After she left I turned the place mats to the menu side. “Noelle, if you can’t read yours, Holly will read it to you. Right?” I looked at Holly for confirmation.
She complied, after a ritual eye roll.
“Fish and chips?” I asked when she finished.
She shrugged, but she looked pleased I’d remembered. Noelle asked for shrimp.
They flipped their place mats and began to color an ocean scene. Noelle was determined to turn the fish a fierce purple, but Holly corrected her. “There are no purple fish, Noelle.”
She looked crushed, and I pushed her hair behind her ears. “Holly has never heard of the Purple Panama Perch, sweetie. It’s my favorite fish. And let’s not forget the Lavender Lionfish.”
“You’re making that up,” Holly said.
“And I forgot the Violet Vampire fish. But guess what?” I leaned forward, like I was telling them a secret. “That’s a piece of paper and those aren’t real fish. They can’t even swim. So you girls can color them any color you want.”
Noelle looked pleased; Holly looked suspicious. But they went back to work, and I noticed that Holly used a blue crayon on the seaweed.
As the art project wound down, the hush puppies arrived, and our server was effusively complimentary. While we munched I asked about school. Noelle told me she’d moved into a different reading group. Holly didn’t volunteer anything, but when I asked what she’d liked most of all that day, she said she liked learning about Florida Indian tribes.
“They are indignant people,” she added.
I was pretty sure she meant indigenous, but I could have been wrong.
Our dinners came, and despite the hush puppies and cookies, we did a credible job of cleaning our plates.
On the way home the girls were subdued, but both of them seemed contented. We’d taken baby steps today, but we were moving in the right direction. We were establishing a relationship, and that was not to be taken lightly. Of course if I continued down this path, I was making a commitment, and there was no evidence I did that well. On the other hand, in the past I hadn’t seen anything I could give them they couldn’t get more of from their mom. Now I did.
Me.
We pulled into the driveway, and something at the side of the house caught my eye. I stopped and opened my door. “Stay here. I need to check something.” When I turned to make sure they’d heard, I saw they were both falling asleep. I clapped my hands, Arlie Gracey style. “Wait until we get inside for that, okay? You’ll sleep better in your own beds.”
I walked to the side of the house where the great room was located. Two windows allowed light inside, both more than halfway up the wall, so as not to be a problem for furniture placement. They were too high for a view, as well as difficult to open and close, but the builder had included screens.
The latter was the culprit. While I was fairly sure the screen closer to the road hadn’t been hanging from one corner before we left, now the wind had knocked it loose, and it banged against the house with each gust. I doubted my parents’ handyman would come back for such a small job.
I couldn’t address the problem without a ladder, but I was able to shove the screen back into place, and hoped it would hold until later. Then I got my sleepy little nieces inside.
Fried seafood coma had set in, and without argument I maneuvered them into the bathroom for sponge baths and next into their bedroom for nightgowns. I said an abbreviated bedtime prayer, then tucked Noelle in first.
“I guess I don’t have to offer a story,” I told her. “Grandpa read you one already.”
She reached up and put her arms around my neck when I kissed her cheek. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. It was the single best moment of my day.
Since Holly had sleep to make up for, I’d hoped she might already be working on it, but I found her on her back staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
Emboldened by my success with her sister, I perched on the bedside as I pulled up her covers. “You’ve had a long day. You’ll sleep well tonight.”
“I have allergies. Mommy always gives me medicine.”
My mother hadn’t said anything about allergies, and I hadn’t noticed sneezing or sniffling. Still, it was possible the wind might have stirred up pollen. I thought I remembered something about children with allergies and sleep problems. Also something about them being especially cranky. Of course I might have been making that up since it fit the situation.
I pushed her hair back from her forehead, and lay my hand across it to be sure she wasn’t feverish. She didn’t wince. “You often have problems with allergies? Hard to breathe?” I tried to think. “Itching? Problems hearing?”
She shook her head.
“Do you know what your mother gives you?”
She shook her head again, making a rut in her pillow. “She keeps it in the medicine cabinet.”
“Your eyes look fine. Your nose seems clear. But if you start having symptoms, I’ll find out what to do.”
She forced a sneeze. I laughed and ruffled her hair. “You’ll feel fine in the morning. I promise.”
She was staring at me now instead of the ceiling. I might not be good at this parenting thing, but I knew that look. She wanted to say something.
“Do you want to talk about what’s worrying you? Because I think something has to be, or you’d be sleeping better.”
She didn’t respond.
I probed a little more. “I know you must miss your mom. And I think you’re a little worried about her being gone.”
The words spilled out, as if Holly could no longer contain them.
“Can you find Daddy and make him come home?”
I hadn’t been prepared for that. I fiddled with her covers, but I couldn’t delay for long. “I don’t know how to do that. His job is pretty important, and it’s not easy to reach him. Your mommy will have to do that when she gets home.”
I leaned over to kiss her cheek, and at least she didn’t turn away. I was sure something more needed to be said. “I promise, your daddy is just fine. He’s out in the water somewhere protecting all of us. You don’t have to worry about him. He doesn’t want you to worry. I know that for sure.”
“Nobody knows anything for sure.” She turned on her side. There was nothing else I could say.
Downstairs I considered what to do about the screen. I preferred waiting until both girls were asleep before I went outside, but judging from my conversation with Holly, I didn’t think she would be asleep anytime soon. Before long it would be too dark to see.
In the garage I removed a lightweight stepladder from its home against a wall and found a screwdriver. Outside the screen was already flapping in the wind. Once I was level with it, I saw two screws were missing.
I removed the other two and pocketed them. Then I carried everything back into the garage. At some point I would buy new screws and fix the screen for real, but for now, at least it wouldn’t be banging against the siding.
Inside I locked up and turned on the security alarm for the first time since the dead bolts had been repaired. Something about being outside had set my teeth on edge. We were isolated here, with no neighbors in residence yet and woods behind the house. Caution was always the best choice.
I checked on Holly, who was staring fixedly at the ceiling. I left her to stare, afraid if I spoke to her she might stay awake even longer. In the master bedroom I pulled out my computer and researched childhood insomnia. As I’d thought, stress was often a cause. Insomnia could also result from too much caffeine, conditions in the bedroom like noise, an overabundance of light, and most interesting of all to me, a stuffy nose from allergies.
“Bingo.” I got up to search the girls’ medicine cabinet and found cotton balls, but nothing they could swallow. My sister was a diligent, protective mother.
Wendy was even more protective in the master bathroom,
where I discovered a locked medicine cabinet and no key, although several nearly empty prescription bottles, one for high blood pressure, another for heartburn, sat on the sink. Since the cabinet didn’t match the vanity, I theorized it was an addition. Whether Wendy or another renter had added it, medication was safe in this house, which in today’s world of accidental overdoses was a bonus.
Since I had no way of knowing what medication Wendy used for Holly’s allergies, I had to let go of that idea. The website had advised allowing children to read in a low light environment to help them relax. I would try that if Holly stayed awake.
While I waited, I changed my search to Milton Kerns and began to scan multiple varieties of the name. Nothing promising turned up, and many of my hits were obituaries. I found one M. Kernston who was starring in an amateur theater production of The Sound of Music. Somehow, I couldn’t envision Wendy’s “Milton” performing the role of Captain Georg von Trapp one night and committing murder the next.
I was typing in “Milton” and “murder” when my cell phone rang.
“Long day?” Sophie asked.
I got up to close the bedroom door. “Things went better.”
“Glad to hear it. I—”
I interrupted. “This is always about me. First, how are you? Anything up there?”
“Wayne’s moved to Texas to get a job on an oil rig.”
Sophie’s ex-husband was more of a hobby than a relationship. He came and went as regularly as the meter reader, and she regarded him with the same lack of wonder. “You okay with that?”
“I met a new guy in a singles chat room. He’s legit. We’re meeting for coffee tomorrow.”
I didn’t have to warn her. By now Sophie probably knew everything about the new guy, including his blood type and the relative length of his toes. “Is his photo for real?”
“Come on, that only happened once. And that photo was legit, only the guy was a little younger when it was taken.”
“Twenty years.”
“I could still recognize him.”
I grinned. “Wishing you luck. Glad it’s coffee, not a bar. Get a go-cup and keep the lid on. Just in case.”
“So, I found a murder. The thing that drew my attention? It happened at a resort on Friday night, maybe sixteen hours or so before your sister first called you. Not one of Gracey Group’s resorts, either.” She said the last in a hurry, knowing that would be my first question. “But I think it’s the kind of place your father might be interested in.”
“It’s for sale?”
“I’m still working on that. Anyhow, the resort’s in New Mexico, not Arizona or California, but not ridiculously far from Phoenix. She could have driven there afterward, so maybe she was telling the truth when she told you where she was calling from.”
I couldn’t figure out why that made me feel better, but it did.
“The murder happened at the Golden Aspen Resort and Spa outside Santa Fe. The property’s not huge, but apparently they have fabulous mountain views. The resort specializes in small-to medium-size conferences and events, and they house their guests in casitas—small cabins—nestled all over the grounds. They have the usual meeting rooms, the spa itself, recreation facilities. You could be happy there for eternity.”
“Sounds like a scenic place for a murder.”
“Apparently somebody thought so.”
I had already keyed in Golden Aspen Resort and Spa so I could look while we talked, but the website was taking a long time to load.
Sophie continued. “A doctor was killed, a surgeon of some kind, and the sheriff is looking for several persons of interest.”
I could tell from her brief description that she had just discovered the murder, because otherwise I would be swimming in details. “That’s all you have so far?”
“They’re keeping the whole thing quiet. The resort is probably doing everything they can to keep a guest’s murder out of the news, and the sheriff’s office isn’t releasing details.”
We knew so little, how could we tell if this was the murder haunting my sister? On the other hand, it wasn’t connected to an urban gang. It wasn’t a hit and run with someone who didn’t fit Wendy’s description at the wheel. It wasn’t any of the other possibilities we’d all but discarded.
This murder had taken place at a classy resort, like the ones my father owned. A doctor, not a barfly, was the victim, and the sheriff was looking for several persons of interest.
Sophie moved on to questions. “Can you introduce the subject of resorts in New Mexico next time you speak to your father? In case Gracey Group does have some connection to the property?”
“I’ll try. What else can I do?”
“I’d love to know if your sister was a registered guest on Saturday or before. But they’ll keep that information private. They won’t tell either of us.”
When I investigated for Out in the Cold, I knew how to get information, which strings to pull, which ears to bend. I could cite my credentials as a journalist and podcaster before I asked for help. But this was different. I didn’t want anybody to connect Wendy to what had happened. If anyone was suspicious of her part in this, they hadn’t yet traced her to Seabank.
“Do you have any connections you can use?” I asked.
“I’ll try to think of some. But at this moment, no.”
“Thanks, Soph. This...could be it.” I’d almost said “This is promising.” But what was promising about a murder? Ever?
We said goodbye, and I went to check on Holly. She was finally sleeping, although fitfully. The long-term solution to her insomnia might well be hush puppies. Somewhere a medical journal was just waiting to hear from me.
When I returned to my computer, Golden Aspen’s website had finally loaded, but the information was basic. The resort relied on gorgeous landscape photos to entice new guests. Of course there was nothing about a murder anywhere on the site.
I gave up and got ready for bed. As I slipped between the covers, I wondered where my sister was tonight. I was sleeping in her bed, living her life, taking care of her children. Where was she and why?
I was back to saying prayers now that I was in charge of my nieces. Tonight, though, I said a silent one for Wendy. If we’d found the murder she was fleeing, how much evidence pointed to her and why? I prayed that whoever had really committed the crime would be caught and charged so my sister could come home.
Somehow tonight, prayer seemed like another long shot.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Holly wasn’t exactly bright-eyed the next morning, but she was moving. I put Noelle’s hair in pigtails and found their raincoats for the drive to school. Yesterday’s wind had heralded a storm, and heavy rain was falling, an unpleasant addition to cooler temperatures.
As we were leaving, I told both girls to bring their raincoats and backpacks. They’d need raincoats for the trip up the sidewalk from the drop-off point. Since I hadn’t been the aunt-in-residence long, I hadn’t learned that telling a little girl to do something doesn’t always bear fruit. When we arrived and pulled into the line of parents dropping off their children, Holly told me she’d forgotten both raincoat and backpack.
“And your head?” I asked. “Firmly in place?”
“We can go back.”
Nosing my way into the line had taken minutes. I wasn’t about to nose my way back out. “Take this.” The rain wasn’t letting up, so I stripped off my windbreaker, wiggling my way out without removing the seat belt. “This will keep you dry for the trip inside. I’ll get your backpack and drop it off as soon as I can.”
“But my homework and lunch ticket are inside.”
I admired her whining, which was a step up from sullen silence. “I’m sure you’re sorry you forgot them. But hopefully I’ll be back before lunch.” I intended to come back the moment I was sure the line at the curb had disappeared. But why let her
off the hook so easily?
“I don’t know why we can’t go back now.”
“Because Noelle would be late for no good reason. And that wouldn’t be fair.”
“She’s only in first grade!”
“And aren’t we proud of her for being right on time today?”
We’d arrived at the drop-off point. I pivoted in my seat and made shooing motions. “I’ll be back. You two have a good day.”
Holly threw the door open. At least she slipped my windbreaker around her shoulders. I watched them both disappear up the walkway.
My plan for the morning included a trip to visit my parents. I wanted to casually mention New Mexico to my father, and I had the perfect excuse to visit. I had promised my mother I’d check a nearby natural foods store to see if it carried vegan-friendly items she hadn’t been able to find. But first I made a detour back to the town house.
When I arrived, a pickup truck was parked on the street several houses away. Someone was probably getting repairs made before the season, which meant with luck, we’d soon have neighbors. Since I had to get out of the car anyway to punch in the garage door code, I parked in the driveway and skidded through puddles to the front door, which was protected by the master bedroom sundeck.
I stopped to get my key and was just taking in the fact that something was different about the door, when I heard a rustling from the podocarpus trees looming beside the porch. I turned as a figure in jeans and a dark hoodie launched itself in my direction. I didn’t have time to scream. I threw up my hands and threw myself forward to keep from being knocked over. As I did I registered two things. One, that even though the person was tall and slim, the build was too heavy and broad-shouldered to be a woman. And two, that the “something different” were pry marks along the seam where the double doors met.
The man swiped my hands away and shoved me hard, grabbing for my keys as I fell backward. Once I landed on my butt, I clamped my fingers around them and lifted my feet, kicking hard in his direction and aiming for the spot where a kick would do the most good. He swiveled to one side and then, enraged, threw a punch toward my shoulder. The air moved as his fist grazed my shirt, but the punch missed because I had already rolled away. Now I dove for the front door. He tried to grab my feet, but I kicked out at him again, and then one more time when he dropped the only one he’d managed to get a grip on.
A Family of Strangers Page 10
