by Leslie Meier
“First wives go first,” said Monique with a smirk.
* * *
Lucy regretted taking that prime spot in the front row of the choir loft as it meant she was one of the last to leave. She seemed to be having some sort of low blood sugar problem. Or maybe it was the noise of the organ or the heat in the church, or the fact she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. She was feeling quite unsteady when she finally reached the stairs and began descending. She held on to the railing for dear life and concentrated on getting through the crowd to the door, hoping that all she needed was some fresh air. At the bottom of the staircase she encountered Eudora’s assistants, who were distributing packets of press releases. She grabbed the thick folder and slipped through the crowd to the porch, where she grabbed a handy pillar for support and breathed deep breaths.
She spotted a CVS store across the square and made a somewhat unsteady beeline to its candy counter, where she bought herself a lifesaving Snickers bar and a bag of peanut M&Ms. She ate them all while standing outside the store, watching the great and good—the celebrities and the politicians—stream from the church and make their way to the Copley Plaza. All except for Mireille and her mother, who Lucy saw leaving by a side door and getting into a waiting black town car unnoticed by the chattering crowd.
She felt much better after her chocolate and sugar binge and was sorely tempted to cruise down Boylston and back up Newbury for a bit of window-shopping . . . or maybe even some actual shopping if she found something irresistible that wasn’t too expensive. Then she remembered the price of the parking garage where the meter was running and decided she’d better head back to Tinker’s Cove. She had a long drive ahead of her, after all, and a long list of weekend chores that weren’t going to do themselves. There were no little fairies (or even family members) who shopped for groceries like she did, taking advantage of coupons and sales, nor any who remembered to pick up the dry cleaning or knew which brand of dog food to buy.
She was somewhat nervous about the traffic in Boston, which was known for its notoriously bad drivers, but she made it to the expressway in one piece, and then joined the bumper-to-bumper traffic crawling through the Big Dig tunnels to the dramatic Zakim Bridge. Things gradually improved as she headed north and traffic steadily thinned out. She was approaching the Hampton tolls, where her EZPass allowed her to fly through the formerly clogged toll booths, when her cell phone rang.
She picked it up, she saw Zoe’s picture, and quickly answered. “What’s up?”
“It’s Dad, Mom. He’s in the hospital.”
Lucy felt as though she’d been hit with a sledge hammer. What could it be? A heart attack? An accident? “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. I’m on my way there now. Barney called. He said the restaurant was firebombed.”
Lucy had lots of questions, but the only thing that mattered was getting back to Tinker’s Cove and Bill as fast as possible. That was all she thought about as she pushed her car beyond the speed limit, rushing to her husband’s side.
CHAPTER 16
The drive from New Hampshire had never seemed so long to Lucy, even though she was risking getting a speeding ticket. She kept trying to call Zoe or Bill or even the Tinker’s Cove police department on her cell phone, desperate to learn what had happened and, more important, Bill’s condition. She struggled to divide her attention between the phone and the road, unwilling to lose time by pulling over into a rest area. Her fingers kept fumbling and she couldn’t get a signal and when she nearly ran off the road, she gave up.
She ran out of freeway in Brunswick when she had to exit onto Route 1 and that was when the state trooper appeared in her rearview mirror, blue lights flashing, and she had to pull over.
“I know I was going too fast,” she told the trooper, “but my husband’s been injured. It was an explosion, and I’m desperate to get to the hospital in Tinker’s Cove.”
“License and registration,” said the trooper, unmoved by her plea. “Turn off your engine.”
She obeyed, turning the ignition key and producing the documents, and watched in her side mirror as he took them back to his cruiser, where she knew he’d run them on his computer. Minutes ticked by slowly and it seemed like hours before he returned and handed them back to her.
“It seems you’re known to the department,” he said, still expressionless. “I’m supposed to escort you to the hospital. Follow me.”
“Great,” said Lucy, amazed at this surprising turn of events.
Moments later he passed her, blue lights flashing, and she followed as he sped along the local road clearing the way. Traffic was fairly heavy this time of day when people were heading home for supper, but vehicles scattered before him as drivers pulled over to the side. When an inattentive motorist failed to spot the cruiser and forced him to slow he hit the siren, producing a couple short barks, and the driver quickly moved out of the way.
Lucy found she had to pay close attention in order to keep up as they whizzed along the narrow two-lane road, sometimes pulling into the oncoming lane, and she had to put her worries about Bill out of her mind. She’d never driven like this, weaving through traffic at speeds approaching eighty miles per hour, and she found it terrifying. It was a huge relief when they finally made the turn onto Main Street in Tinker’s Cove and she spotted the illuminated emergency room sign at the cottage hospital. The trooper turned off his flashing lights and drove off, giving her a cursory wave as she pulled into an empty parking space.
Getting out of the car, she was assailed by fear, dreading what she might find. What if Bill hadn’t survived the blast? What would she do then? She couldn’t imagine living a single day without her husband. It would be like losing part of herself. Or what if he was gravely injured and required constant care? How was her life going to change? Was he suffering?
It was that last thought that propelled her forward, toward the plate glass doors that opened automatically at her approach. She went straight to the reception desk where she was surprised to see Babs Culpepper, her friend Barney’s sister.
“Lucy, you’re here,” she said in a bright voice. “Bill’s in that first exam room. Go right on in.”
“How is he?” Lucy asked.
“I’m not supposed to say,” replied Babs. “But he’s in pretty good shape, considering.”
Lucy wasn’t sure how to take that. “Pretty good shape, considering” could cover a lot of territory. But when she opened the door, she saw Bill was sitting up on the gurney, with his arm in a sling. Zoe was there, sitting on a chair, and State Police Lieutenant Horowitz was standing beside him, dressed as always in a gray suit. Lucy and Horowitz had a long history, and while they often conflicted, they shared a mutual respect for each other. She was rather dismayed to notice his hair was also entirely gray, and his pale blue eyes made him look more tired than ever.
“Did you enjoy the escort?” he asked, stepping aside so Lucy could reach her husband.
“Was that you?” she asked, occupied in studying Bill’s condition and deciding if she could hug him.
His face and head were scraped and bruised, as was the hand that emerged from the black sling. He held out his other hand and she grabbed it with both hands.
“What’s the damage?” she asked.
“Broken arm, a few bumps and bruises,” he answered with a smile. “I was darned lucky. I was standing by the door, which happened to be open, and I was blown outside by the force of the explosion. I guess I must have instinctively used my arm to try and break my fall, which is why it’s broken.”
“You should see the place, Mom,” said Zoe. “The entire front wall is gone and there was a lot of damage from the fire. It looks like a bomb hit it.”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” said Horowitz, looking very serious. “The fire marshal is investigating whether the explosion was caused by a device or a gas leak. I was just asking your husband if he smelled gas beforehand.”
Lucy couldn’t take her
eyes off Bill. She was studying every scab and bruise, and kept hanging onto his hand as if afraid he’d disappear if she let go.
“I don’t remember much,” said Bill, mumbling a bit.
“Does it hurt to talk?” she asked, and he gave her a nod.
“Can you question him another time?” asked Lucy, turning to Horowitz. “He’s clearly in pain.”
“I really don’t know what happened,” said Bill, speaking slowly with effort. “I opened the door and pow! Next thing I knew I was flat on my back in the parking lot and the pub was in flames.” He sighed. “I wish I could tell you more. I really do.”
“Okay,” said Horowitz with a decisive nod. “I’ll be in touch.” He turned to go.
“Thanks for the police escort,” said Lucy, walking the few steps to the door with him. “It was quite an experience.”
“Glad to be of service,” he said, opening the door. “Besides, from what I heard, you were a menace out there on the road.”
“Well, thanks again,” said Lucy as he stepped into the hallway.
Once she was sure he was gone, and the door closed, Lucy had a million questions for Bill and Zoe. She had to wait to ask them, however, as a nurse popped in with a clipboard full of papers for him to sign.
“Once we finish this business you can go,” she announced, flipping the pages and pointing where to sign.
“Good thing it was my left arm,” he said, scrawling his signature where she’d indicated. “I’m right-handed.”
“I’ve got a prescription for painkillers for you,” she said, handing him a blue square of paper. “Don’t try to be a hero. They’re not addictive and you’ll be a lot more comfortable if you take them.”
“Will do,” said Bill. “I’m no hero.”
“I can pick up the prescription on my way home,” offered Zoe.
“That would be great,” said Lucy, giving her the blue slip. “That way we won’t have to stop and can go straight home with your dad.”
The nurse gave him a hand and helped him off the gurney, and then they all walked through the ER and out through the waiting room to the door.
“Safe home,” said Babs, and Lucy gave her a big smile and a little wave before stepping outside.
“Do you want to wait here and I’ll bring the car over?” asked Lucy, but Bill shook his head and headed straight for her SUV, albeit walking rather more slowly than usual.
Zoe headed in the opposite direction, toward her little Civic.
Watching her go, Lucy had a sudden inspiration and called after her, “Zoe! Pick up a pizza for dinner!”
“Again?” asked Bill with a groan.
Zoe turned back and gave her a nod. “Will do!”
Bill grunted a bit as he settled himself in the passenger seat, and he winced as Lucy helped him with his seat belt, arranging it so it didn’t press against his broken arm. Then she started the car and they were on the way home.
“So what really happened?” she asked, braking at the exit.
“It’s like I told the lieutenant,” said Bill. “I opened the door and the place blew up.”
“Do you think it was a gas leak?” she asked, making the turn onto Main Street. “Or did somebody set a bomb, like maybe one or more of those anti-immigration demonstrators?”
“Could be either of those,” said Bill. “Or it could have been Rey.”
Lucy couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Rey?”
“Yeah. Why not? He’s running into a lot of problems here. His son is facing criminal charges, he’s got to pay a lot of money for a lawyer to defend the kid, and he’s already soaked a lot of money into a project that he probably figures is never going to be profitable.”
“You think he did it himself for the insurance money?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time somebody tried that,” said Bill, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Or the last.”
When they got home Lucy helped him into the house and got him settled on the sectional in the family room where he could rest and watch the evening news on TV while she threw together a salad. When the segment about the explosion came on, he called her and she hurried to watch.
Looking at the images of the damage, which was extensive, she thought it was a miracle that Bill had survived. As Zoe had told her, the entire front of the pub was gone, and the inside was a charred mess. Tables and chairs had been tossed this way and that, the remaining walls were streaked with soot, and the swinging door that led to the kitchen was hanging askew. A lace curtain that remained where a window had once been blew in the breeze.
“What happened here?” a reporter asked fire chief Buzz Bresnahan. “Was it arson?”
“We don’t know yet. The fire marshal will conduct a complete investigation. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. One man was injured, but there were no fatalities.”
Overcome by the thought of what might have been, Lucy plunked herself down on the coffee table and took Bill’s good hand. When she started to talk he shushed her.
“All’s well that ends well,” he said with a wry grin. “And I think Zoe’s here with the pizza—and the pills.”
Lucy met Zoe in the kitchen and they put together trays so they all could eat in the family room. Lucy read the instructions on the bottle of painkillers and counted out two tablets, which she placed in a custard cup on Bill’s tray. He swallowed them immediately when she gave him his dinner tray, washing them down with a big swallow of cola. He had switched off the news and found a college football game, and the roar of the huge crowd, punctuated by blasts from the college band, provided a welcome distraction as they ate their pizza and salad.
When there was a break in the action and the chains were brought out to determine if Iowa had made a first down, Zoe spoke up. “I don’t think I should go to Montreal,” she said, referring to her planned departure after class on the coming Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving. “Dad’s gonna need help while Mom’s at work and I’m sure Renée will understand.”
“But you’ve been looking forward to seeing Renée,” said Lucy, referring to their young neighbor from the housing development on nearby Priscilla Path who was attending Concordia University.
“And I’ll be fine,” said Bill, who had polished off his first piece of pizza and was well into his second.
“I’m really nervous about leaving and I know I’d be terrible company. I’d just be worried about Dad and Matt and, well, it’s just a lot coming on top of Alison’s death.”
“I think you should go, the sooner the better, for your own safety,” said Lucy. “I’ve got a bad feeling that Tinker’s Cove isn’t safe right now.”
Bill was about to take a bite of pizza but, hearing this, set it back down on his plate.
“Don’t be silly, Lucy. That explosion was probably due to a loose gas connection, something like that.”
“I don’t think so, Bill. I think it was purposely set off by somebody, some evil person who didn’t care if someone got hurt. Maybe it was for insurance, maybe it was to send a message. I don’t know. But I do know that the whole town feels different. It’s like people are afraid to meet each other’s eyes. Admit it. You’ve felt it, too. There are people who don’t like the fact that you’ve been working for Rey Rodriguez.”
“Some idiot did throw some rotten garbage into my truck,” he said with a shrug.
“When was this?” demanded Lucy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“A couple days ago. I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he replied.
“It is a big deal!” exclaimed Lucy. “It’s escalating and I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse.”
“Mom, you’re being paranoid,” said Zoe.
“Well, maybe so, but better safe than sorry. I think you should give Renée a call and say you can come earlier than you planned, okay?”
Zoe didn’t answer but looked at her father, waiting for his thoughts.
“I’m not sure your mom is right, but I do think you could use a change of scene,” said Bill
. “It would be good for you to spend some time with Renée . . . and you can brush up on your French.”
“I think you should give Renée a call. See if you can go tomorrow,” suggested Lucy.
“But what about Matt? I want to support him . . .”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be relieved to know you’re safe,” said Lucy. “And he sure won’t want you visiting him in jail.”
“If he’s got any decency at all,” added Bill, who was never a fan of his daughter’s boyfriends.
“Okay,” agreed Zoe, deciding further resistance was futile, and turning her attention to her salad she speared a chunk of lettuce. “Will you keep me posted?”
“Absolutely,” promised Lucy, taking a bite of pizza. She was chewing when a Notre Dame player made a ninety-yard run for a touchdown. Realizing Bill was strangely quiet, she turned to look at him and saw that he’d drifted off, still holding the tray with his half-eaten pizza in his lap. She gently removed it and covered him with an afghan, giving him a little kiss on his forehead as she tucked it around him.
* * *
Sunday morning was busy. Bill needed help getting showered and dressed, and took out his frustration with the situation on Lucy. She’d made him a big breakfast of ham and eggs, thinking it would please him, but he snapped at her when he couldn’t manage to cut the ham by himself and had to ask for help. Zoe couldn’t decide what clothes she needed to pack for Montreal and kept appearing in the kitchen, holding up various garments and asking her mother’s opinion. Lucy was at her wits’ end by the time Bill retreated to the family room, where he promptly fell asleep on the sectional sofa.
