Someone Knows

by Lisa Scottoline

  “I heard you left camp early today.” His father glowered. “Why are you hiding that from me?”

  “I’m not.” David wished he could tell his father about the gun, but no. Never.

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I forgot, it didn’t matter.”

  “So did you miss practicing your overhead?”

  “No, I practiced at our courts.”

  “You can’t practice your overhead on a backboard.”

  David knew his father’s eyes would be narrowing behind his thick sunglasses, sensing that David was lying but wrong about the reason. David tried to think of an answer. “I found somebody else to hit with. Mr. Forman was there with another guy, and they let me hit around.”

  His father glanced away. “Why’d you leave camp early? I heard you and Julian both cut out.”

  “Right, we did.” David realized his father must have called the camp director to check his progress, something he did from time to time. Vince had had a dentist appointment, leaving the assistant in charge, which was why Julian had picked today to show David the gun.

  “What for?”

  David thought fast. “Julian didn’t feel good. He said his stomach hurt and he felt woozy.”

  “What does that have to do with you?”

  “He wanted to go home and he was going to ride his bike.” David knew these weren’t questions but criticisms, like many of the questions his father asked him, they came in disguise. “He keeps it at camp. On the weekends he goes to his father’s and rides it home.”

  “So?”

  David saw Jason opening his mouth, looking like he was going to interrupt but he didn’t. A good decision. David felt a rush of affection for Jason, who picked up for him against their father, when he could. Jason was in a suit, too, because he was interning at a law firm in West Chester. David dreaded thinking about life at home after his older brother, Jason, left for college.

  His father frowned. “You don’t have to leave camp because Julian does. I pay good money for that camp.”

  “I know that, Dad—”

  “Julian’s set for life. Set for life. All that money behind him, he doesn’t have to earn a g-d penny. You do. You’re not in the same position, so don’t slack when he slacks.”

  “He wasn’t slacking—”

  “Yes, he was. You didn’t have to go with him. That kid is so spoiled.”

  “Dad, he’s a nice guy.” David didn’t like his father criticizing Julian, because he didn’t know him at all.

  “He’s had everything handed to him.”

  “He’s still a nice guy.” David recognized the rant. His father had a chip on his shoulder about money, which made no sense because everybody in Brandywine Hunt had money, including them. His father owned his own business, Hybrinski Optical, in a strip mall in Frazer.

  “David, you don’t have to do everything he does. Be a leader, not a follower. You follow him.”

  “I don’t follow him.” David got so sick of his father giving him grief.

  “Then why’d you ditch camp?”

  “I left early, is all. You got your money’s worth.”

  “Don’t smart-mouth me.”

  David fell silent.

  “Why’d you leave early?”

  “Julian said he felt sick and dizzy. He had to ride his bike home, so I told him I’d go with him to make sure he didn’t fall or anything. I mean, he could’ve fallen in traffic. It’s a long ride from camp.” David saw his father’s brow unfurrow, so he kept going. “I don’t want him dead in the road, do you? Because I had to practice my overhead?”

  His father didn’t reply, turning away again.

  David knew that his father would never say he was sorry. Saying you were sorry meant you made a mistake, and his father could never admit a mistake.

  “So how was Julian?” Jason asked, nudging him, and David realized his brother had believed the story about Julian being sick.

  “He was fine. He was probably dehydrated.”

  “Right.” Jason patted David on the back, a gesture that meant you did the right thing.

  The crowd shouted and clapped, and David returned to the book. His favorite author was David Foster Wallace, a tennis player who loved books, kept his hair long, and wore a bandanna. David wore his red bandanna as his tribute to DFW, which was how he thought of him. DFW’s book Infinite Jest was filled with insights about life and tennis, because tennis could really be cerebral. His father thought it was about dominance, but it was really about how you felt about yourself. Nobody understood that except for David and DFW.

  “Jessica, way to go!” Jason nudged him again. “Dude, Jessica made another catch.”

  “Go, Jessica!” David watched the girls change sides, and the brown uniforms mixed with the red uniforms, coming together, then apart on the other side. Team sports were two armies opposed, but in an individual sport like tennis, it was you against yourself. David tested himself all the time, challenged himself to be more, and better. Someday he would do it as an author, too. He thought of his favorite line from Infinite Jest:

  I am not just a boy who plays tennis.

  CHAPTER 10

  Julian Browne

  Need a hand, Mom?” Julian entered the dining room, bracing himself for dinner. Last weekend was his father’s weekend so tonight would be a cross-examination, not a conversation.

  “No, honey, just sit down!” his mother called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready!”

  Julian sat down to a table that had been set with a platter of steaming roast chicken and fresh rosemary, next to a side dish of red potatoes with fresh dill. The herbs smelled great, and his mother had grown them in her garden, since she used only fresh herbs. She called herself a perfectionist, and it wasn’t until Julian got older that he realized she was trying too hard to make everything perfect. And then he’d realized why.

  Their house was the nicest house on Pinto Road, with three stories and seven bedrooms on the Alternate Second-Floor Plan, including the master to end all masters, according to the brochure that Julian had proofread himself. They had eight and a half baths with top-of-the-line, special-order Italian finishes, radiant floor heating under the marble tile, and Perrin & Rowe polished nickel faucets and trim. They had the optional Expanded In-Home Office Suite downstairs and a smaller Pocket TV Room/Study upstairs, also optional. The HVAC was zoned throughout, with the HEPA filtration system, and the floors were Resawn Oak, special-order. The dining room was a showstopper, 20’3” by 16’8”, with the optional Coffered Ceiling, conceived for the finest entertaining. He worked in his father’s office every summer and school vacation, where he had learned everything about the real estate business.

  His gaze wandered outside, since windows surrounded the dining room on all sides, overlooking the wraparound deck, which came standard with the Main Line Model. Their backyard was landscaped with terraced gardens, a large pool, and a Pool House with the Optional Elite Guest Suite addition, for when his grandma visited. His mother also had an English Greenhouse and Potting Shed, which was a Luxury Option, which led to the Palm Beach Sunroom Addition, another Luxury Option.

  Brandywine Hunt was the crown jewel of Browne Land Management, encompassing 410 luxury homes on eight hundred acres. The parcel used to be several horse farms, so the streets were named after horse breeds and the sections after local hunts. The minimum lot size was one and a half acres, and their street, Pinto Road, was in Cheshire Hunt, the nicest section, where all of the homes cost between $1.2 and $2.3 million, had 5,500–8,500 square feet, two- to five-car garages, and three or four stories including the optional Two-Story Foyer. Browne Land Management had developed sixty-six residential and commercial properties in southeastern Pennsylvania.

  Kiss my ass, Toll Brothers, his father always said.

  Their dining room table was a walnut circle able to seat twelve, and did, back when his parents gave dinner parties. It was too large for Julian and his mother, who sat on the left side nearest
the gourmet kitchen. Julian had asked his mother why they didn’t just eat in the kitchen, but she insisted on the dining room, like his father had. She didn’t want to change anything in case his father moved back in, but that was never going to happen and the only one who didn’t know it was her.

  “Spinach salad!” His mother entered the room with a large serving bowl.

  “I was worried we weren’t going to have enough food.”

  “Oh, you.” His mother smiled, then put the salad down and served them both with tongs.

  “Looks great.” Julian’s stomach grumbled at the delicious aromas, and his mother had made his favorite dinner, which she always did on the Wednesday nights after he’d come back from his father’s weekends. Because that would be the first time they’d have dinner after he’d come back from his father’s weekend. Julian’s life was divided into his mother’s weekends and his father’s weekends, and none of the weekends belonged to him anymore.

  “How was camp?” His mother picked up the carving knife, which she would’ve just sharpened in the kitchen. Like a true gourmet, his father always used to say, back when.

  “Fine.” Julian thought of the gun, but would never tell her. She was only asking to warm him up. She always started with a few innocent questions before she got to the ones she wanted to ask.

  “Is Vince treating you any better?” His mother carved two perfect slices of white meat from the chicken breast, and he offered his plate, then she served him some potatoes, too. His father always said, the hostess with the mostest, but he was really talking about her chest. His father had once called himself a breast man, an expression Julian had never heard before or since.

  “He treats me fine.”

  “Oh, you said he was helping with your backhand or something?”

  “He did.” Julian shrugged, taking a bite of chicken, which practically melted on his tongue. His mother was an excellent cook, though Julian sensed she believed if she cooked well enough, or did everything else well enough, that his father would have stayed married to her, but Julian knew that wasn’t true. His father had a slew of girlfriends, and none of them could cook for shit.

  “So how’s your backhand?”

  “Fine. He only says that so we think we get our money’s worth.”

  “Exactly right.” His mother smiled, turning on the charm. Everything he said for the rest of the night would be exactly right. She was softening him up to get the dirt.

  “What did you do after camp?”

  “Hit with David. He likes to practice.” Julian ate, happy to answer her preliminary questions.

  “Well, my lesson went great today.” His mother smiled. She played golf, and it kept her in good shape, chesty with a thin waist and really nice legs, always tanned. She got manicures and pedicures, but Julian doubted his father noticed. No man was a foot man, unless it was a fetish. Julian had been learning about fetishes. He was starting to think he had one.

  “What was so good about your lesson?”

  “I was hitting really well. I could feel it.” His mother beamed, and Julian thought she had the greatest smile. She’d been a cheerleader at the University of Delaware, and she still looked like one, with bright blue eyes and a short nose. Her hair was medium brown but she streaked it blond and wore it bouncy around her chin. She had met his father when she was playing in a local amateur tournament sponsored by Browne. His father always said that she was the prettiest girl there who wasn’t gay.

  “Good for you.”

  “What did you have for lunch, honey?”

  “Hoagies from Wawa.”

  “Again?” His mother frowned. There was never anything to make a decent sandwich with at his father’s house. He and his father always rolled in to the convenience store in the morning.

  “It was fine.”

  His mother picked at her salad, and Julian knew she was getting ready to pump him for information about his father. She’d caught him screwing his assistant in his Porsche Carrera at the office. Their divorce had become final last year.

  “So is your father still seeing that girl?”

  “Which one?” Julian realized it was a mistake when he saw his mother cringe.

  “Lindsay?”

  “Oh, right, I think he’s still seeing her.” Julian ate more quickly, to finish sooner.

  “Weren’t you with him and Lindsay last weekend?”

  “No.” Shit.

  “So were you guys alone?”

  “No.” Julian’s father’s girlfriends were always around, which was fine with Julian. His father didn’t act like a father, but like a cool older guy who had a younger friend named Julian. His father didn’t want to be a father anymore, if he’d ever wanted to. It worked for Julian, who didn’t need a father anymore.

  “So he goes out with other girls, in addition to Lindsay?”

  “Right, I don’t think they’re exclusive.” Julian used his father’s term.

  “So which girl was he with?”

  “Another one, I forget her name.”

  His mother set her glass down. “Julian. You didn’t forget her name. Don’t lie to me.”

  “I forgot her name, really.” Julian wasn’t lying, for once. He did forget the girl’s name. He didn’t forget how she looked in a bathing suit.

  “Was it Brittany?”

  “No.”

  “Courtney?”

  “There’s no Courtney.”

  “There’s always a Courtney.” His mother laughed. “Tell your father to hop to. Find himself a Courtney.”

  “Good one, Mom.” Julian wished she could laugh it off more often, but she couldn’t. They’d been married nineteen years, and his mother really loved his father, even though he’d turned into a selfish jerk after he became a successful developer. He’d developed into an asshole.

  “Did you guys go on the boat?” His mother’s expression soured because the boat drove her crazy. His father had bought it after the divorce, and Julian had overheard his mother talking about it on the phone with her friends, saying since when did he start boating and who does he think he’s kidding and he can’t even swim. They used to sign off, man overboard!

  “Yes, we went on the boat.”

  “Again!” His mother rolled her eyes so hard the white showed.

  “Don’t start.” Julian smiled, but they both knew she was going to.

  “Was it an overnight trip?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many nights?”

  “Just one.” Julian loved the boat trips because it was fun to dock in the small towns in New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland. He always packed his binoculars.

  “Not Friday night?”

  “No, Saturday.” Julian explained the binoculars by telling his father that he had to bird-watch for an independent study. He even bought a National Audubon Society Field Guide to Birds, Eastern Region with a waterproof cover that he took everywhere. Julian had convinced his mother, too, and she’d bought him a membership to the Audubon Society, which encouraged junior birding. So he’d become Julian Browne, junior birder.

  “Did he get you the adjoining room this time, at the hotel?”

  “Yes.” Julian stabbed his potatoes with a fork. The last time he’d stayed in a room on a completely different floor from his father, and his mother and her lawyer had thrown a fit, saying it was unsafe, that he was unsupervised, that he could even be kidnapped.

  “Was it right next door?”

  “Yes, it was adjoining.”

  “You swear? Don’t lie for him.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Julian was almost finished with his meal. Thanks to the lawyers, he got to listen to his father and his girlfriend having sex. His father said oh baby in orgasm, a fact Julian never wanted to know.

  “So where did you go this time?”

  “The Eastern Shore.”

  “Maryland again?” His mother clucked. “I hope his girls are old enough to cross state lines. Your father will end up in jail.”

  Julian laughed, pret
ty sure she was kidding. If anyone was going to end up in jail, it would be him. He’d started by looking into the houses from the window of his hotel, but then he realized that he could leave the hotel without his father knowing, since Mr. Oh Baby was asleep next door. If Julian ever got caught at night, he’d tell his father he was looking for owls.

  “Do you ever sleep on the boat? It sleeps six. Supposedly.”

  “No, and the town we stayed in was nice.” Julian was thrilled they didn’t sleep on the boat. He walked around the towns at night, looking inside the houses. If he got close enough, he could peek through the windows. Julian Browne, junior voyeur.

  “Which town?”

  “Chestertown. I saw a lot of mallards, but nothing special. The Eastern Neck National Wildlife Refuge is down there, but we didn’t go. They have ospreys and eaglets learning to fly this time of year.” Julian had done his research. “Dad said we can go next time. It’s best in fall or spring for migratory birds.”

  “Like your father would ever go birding. So what’s her name, really?”

  “I don’t know. I tell you, it doesn’t matter. They’re all the same, Mom.”

  “And how is that?” His mother held her water glass to her lips.

  “You know, they’re just women, younger women.” Julian rose, picking up his plate. “May I be excused?”

  “How much younger?”

  “I don’t know.” Julian realized he was making it worse. “He introduces me, that’s it.”

  “Where does he meet them? Where did he meet this new one?” His mother arched an eyebrow. “Is she from the same strip club as the last one? Amber or whatever her name was?”

  “I don’t know.” Julian didn’t add that they all looked like they were from a strip club. And they danced like that, too. Oh baby.

  “Do they ever hit on you?”

  “Of course not!” Julian burst into laughter. It hadn’t happened, but he’d thought about it more than once.

  “I want you to tell me if that happens.”

  “Mom, they never pay attention to me. They pay attention to Dad.” Julian didn’t add that the only girl he cared about was Sasha. She was his secret obsession. She was the one who started him being a voyeur. If there was one bird he wanted, it was Sasha Barrow.