“It’s just been last evening and this morning. How about you? Is Don’s sofa as lumpy as he said it was?”
“Worse. My back feels as though I was tackled by the Incredible Hulk.”
I reached for his hand and traced the lines of his palm with my finger. “It’s not too late to change your mind and move back in. Faye won’t bite. She even asked about you.”
“I bet. And I can well imagine the unspoken agenda behind the words.”
“She’s going to get the wrong idea with your not being there at all.”
Michael leaned across the gear shift and kissed me lightly. “I’ll come by some evening to beat my chest and set the record straight.”
“It would be easier to simply move back.”
“No,” he said grimly, “it would not.”
Chapter 3
I managed to delay my return home until after I’d picked up Anna from school. I figured there was strength in numbers, if only because Anna’s presence seemed to diffuse the tension.
The drone of the television was audible as we came up the front walk. I couldn’t make out the words, but the cadence of the dialogue made me think it was probably one of the afternoon soaps. Inside, the noise was almost deafening.
“Faye?”
No answer.
I headed for the nook off the kitchen where we kept the TV, and turned down the volume. The room was empty.
“Faye?” I yelled louder this time.
“Out here, dear. I’m just finishing up the ironing.”
“What ironing?” I made a point never to buy anything that didn’t come out of the dryer ready to wear.
“Just odds and ends.”
I joined her on the laundry porch. “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, motioning to the stack of neatly pressed and folded items. I’d never known anyone to iron pillow cases and sweatshirts.
“I need to keep busy. I’m not one to sit around all day.”
“You should at least have moved the ironing board into the den so you could watch your program at the same time.”
She made a face of disgust. “Television. There’s nothing worth watching anyway. It’s all trash.”
“It was on when I came in.”
Her hand brushed the air, gesturing disdain. “I just listen in, you know, to keep my mind occupied.”
I didn’t understand how listening to the stuff without actually watching made it any more tolerable, but for Faye there was obviously a distinction.
She turned her attention to Anna. “How was your day, honeybun?”
“Good.”
“I made brownies. Why don’t you come into the kitchen and have some while you tell me what happened at school.”
I made coffee for Faye and myself, and poured Anna a glass of milk. She chattered away about dodge ball and freeze tag while Faye tried her best to fend off Max, who wanted to be part of the festivities.
“This dog needs to go to obedience school,” she muttered, pulling her cup away from Max’s nose.
I laughed. “He’s been.”
She gave me a stern look. “Poor manners are never funny.”
I bit my tongue, shoved Max out back, and shut the door. “Be brave,” I whispered in his ear, “she’s only here for a week.”
I could see that Faye had indeed kept busy during my absence. In addition to the laundry, she’d washed the kitchen floor, cleaned the cupboards, and had the table already set for dinner.
I thanked her. “Libby won’t be here for dinner tonight,” I said, noting she’d set the table for four.
Faye broke off a piece of brownie. “I know that. I’ve invited Andy.”
I gulped. “You’ve what?”
“I thought it would be nice if we had an old-fashioned family meal.”
“Don’t you think you should have asked me first?”
Faye’s forehead creased. Her lips compressed into a thin line. “I don’t understand the problem. He is Anna’s father.”
I wasn’t sure I understood either. Whatever bad feelings there were between us, neither Andy nor I wanted anything but the best for Anna. To that end, we had occasionally done the very thing Faye was now suggesting. Only this time I felt manipulated. And uncomfortable as well, thinking about Michael spending his nights sleeping on a buddy’s sofa, catching his meals at deli counters and all-night diners. I bit my tongue, though, and reminded myself of the wisdom I’d offered Max. Only a week.
Handing Anna another brownie, Faye addressed me over her shoulder. “Oh, by the way, you had a couple of calls.”
“Who were they?”
“One was a woman. Something about driving for a field trip. The other sounded like a girl. She asked for you first, and then Libby.”
“Did you get the names?”
Faye shrugged. “You know me and names.”
“Try, please.”
She shook her head, then stopped. “The girl’s name was Julia, or maybe Julie. I imagine they’ll try again if it’s important.”
My poor tongue was going to be chewed to pieces if I bit it any more. “That’s why I have an answering machine,” I said, working hard to keep the irritation from showing. Why, in fact, I’d specifically told Faye to let the machine pick up my calls.
“I hate those things,” Faye sniffed. “So impersonal.”
As it turned out, Andy did not stay for dinner that night, after all. He showed up at the appointed hour, helped himself to a beer, gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, his daughter a mighty bear hug, and me one of his bright, self-satisfied grins.
“What do you mean ‘you can’t stay for dinner’?” Faye admonished. “I’m fixing fried pork chops and mashed potatoes with gravy. Your favorite meal.”
Not that I’d ever heard.
Andy seemed unconcerned with the menu. “Mom, I told you I’d come by, but not to count on me for dinner. I’m meeting someone.”
“Who?”
He rolled his eyes. “No one you’d know.”
“A date?”
“Business.”
“Maybe you can come by afterwards then, for dessert.”
“I don’t think so. We’re apt to be late.”
“Well, another night then.” Fay picked up a pot and began scrubbing it with short, quick strokes. I could see that she was working hard not to let her disappointment show.
Later, as I walked Andy to the door, I took him aside. “You’ve got to spend some time with her,” I said.
“I will.” He pulled at the sleeves of his blue blazer.
“Maybe tomorrow. You could take your mom and Anna somewhere. They’d both like that.”
Andy gave Anna’s hair a playful tug. “Sure. Only not tomorrow, okay. I’m playing golf.”
“Golf!” Anna and I spoke in unison.
“Since when can you afford to play golf?” I asked.
He glared at me. “It’s a good way to make important contacts.”
Anna tugged at his hand. “Are you going to the Fun Center? Can I go, too?”
“Tomorrow’s for grown-ups. But we’ll do miniature golf soon, Anna Banana.”
He held out a palm. Anna giggled and slapped it.
“Can’t your mom stay with you, Andy? I’ll make sure she gets to see plenty of Anna. It would be easier if she weren’t here all the time.”
“Jesus, Kate, we’ve been over this. I’ve got a one- bedroom apartment.”
“So give her the bed and sleep on the sofa.”
He grimaced. “My back hurts just thinking about it.”
Not as much as Michael’s back hurt, I thought angrily. I took a breath. “Don’t you think it’s about time you learn to think about someone besides yourself?”
Andy gave me a cocky grin. “Why?”
<><><>
Saturday afternoon Libby went to the library to do research for a term paper and Faye took Anna to a movie. I kept my appointment with Steve and Yvonne Burton, whose spacious new home was in need of artwork for the walls. Meeting Yvonne had be
en an added bonus to the teaching job. It wasn’t often that clients landed in my lap.
“Yvonne will be back in a minute,” Steve said, greeting me at the door. “She had to run Skye over to the stables.” Steve Burton was a prominent local judge currently up for re-election. But you’d never guess that from meeting him. He was surprisingly soft-spoken and unassuming. A perfect complement to Yvonne’s bubbly, and at times overly gregarious, disposition. I don’t think he cared much one way or another what went on his walls, but he tried his best to feign interest for Yvonne’s sake.
He led me to the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?”
“That would be lovely.”
“Cappuccino okay?”
“More than okay.”
I took a seat at the marble-topped center island and watched as Steve’s experienced hands worked the espresso maker. Whereas Yvonne was dark and petite, Steve was tall and broad-shouldered, with the faintest trace of freckles along his arms. His hair was silver at the temples, but thick and full.
“I swear that horse of Skye’s takes more time and attention than a baby,” he said. “Not to mention the cost. That girl spends every free minute she’s got out there at the stables.”
“She does seem devoted to him.”
“Do you ride?”
I shook my head. “Do you?”
“Skye is after me to learn. I’ve tried it once or twice, but frankly, I don’t understand the attraction. On the whole I’d rather walk than ride. Better exercise and a whole lot more comfortable. If it was excitement I was after, I’d go with a motorcycle. I rode one of those for years.”
Steve filled a metal pitcher with milk and held it under the steam spout. “Maybe it’s a gender thing. The guys seem to go for bikes, girls for horses. Bet there’s some psychiatrist’s got a theory about that.”
I laughed. “I’d hate to hear what he’d have to say about those of us who feel at home in an aging Volvo station wagon.”
Steve smiled. “It’s certainly the safest of the three.” He handed me a cup topped with thick foam and powdered chocolate. “We do worry about Skye when she’s out on her horse alone. Especially now, after what happened at the park. It’s a damn shame how one deranged individual can hold the rest of us hostage.”
I licked the foam and nodded in agreement.
“People in town are fearful in a way they weren’t before,” Steve said. “Things have changed, maybe forever.”
“I’m afraid you may be right. Especially if the guy is never caught.”
Steve’s face clouded with misgiving. “Even if he is, they may have a hard time pinning it on him. I used to be with the DA’s office. I saw it time and again. The police would zero in on a solid suspect, but without the evidence to back up an arrest. It’s frustrating as hell.”
I’d heard Michael say much the same thing. It was why the closed cases and convictions were so dear to him. Why each new crime claimed some part of his soul.
“Yvonne’s thrilled to have you helping her,” Steve said, bringing the conversation back to the reason for my visit. “She’s been talking about buying paintings ever since we got married.”
“Have you been married long?”
“Three years next month. Second time for both of us.” He turned at the sound of the door. “Here’s Yvonne now.”
She dropped her purse on the counter and ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry I’m late. It was one of those mornings where nothing went according to schedule.”
“No problem, I told her.”
She took a sip of Steve’s coffee, then draped an arm around his shoulder. Her gaze was flat, as though her mind were elsewhere. After a moment, she took a breath. “You ready to get started?”
I set down my cup and nodded. “I brought along a silkscreen I’m thinking of for the hallway. Also some slides of water colors that are possibilities for the dining room. I’d like to get your reaction to them. You want to start with the hallway?”
“Sure.”
The Burtons’ was a sprawling two-story house with high ceilings and a wall of glass along the back. The kind of house where a few well-chosen pieces of art would be shown to their best advantage.
Steve carried the framed print to the hallway and propped it against the wall where I indicated. “Looks good to me,” he said, kissing Yvonne’s cheek. “But it’s up to you gals. I’ve got to run. Nice to see you again, Kate.”
“Honestly,” Yvonne said when he was out of earshot. “It’s his money going into this, you’d think he’d care what we ended up with.”
“What do you think of it?” I asked, stepping back to view the effect from the entry. The piece looked darker than it had in the gallery, the colors less true, but the size was good.
Yvonne considered it for a moment, came to stand by me, and shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Just okay?”
Another shrug.
“If that’s your reaction, then it isn’t right. I’ll keep looking.”
“I’m sorry, maybe it’s just my mood. I feel like there’s a pall over everything.”
“Why?”
She bit her lower lip. “You haven’t heard then?”
“Heard what?”
“Julie Harmon is missing.”
“What do you mean ‘missing’?”
“She didn’t come home last night. That’s all I know. Skye talked with Mrs. Shepherd this morning. They’re treating it as a runaway, but after what happened to that girl at the reservoir, I’m worried.”
“What do the police think?”
Yvonne shook her head.
“They’ve reported it to the police, haven’t they?”
“I’m sure they must have.” Yvonne’s voice lacked conviction.
Anxiety settled in my stomach like lead. “Do you know much about the aunt and uncle?”
“Their son was in my class a few years back.” Her face was pinched, as though she were squinting into the sun. “I can understand why Julie might not be happy living there, but . . .” She hugged her arms across her chest. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right somehow.”
Like Yvonne, I felt the tremor of alarm. It was possible Julie had run away. But there were other reasons why she might not have come home. And even if she had left of her own volition, it didn’t mean she was safe.
Chapter 4
On the way home, I stopped by the library to check on Libby.
I knew that Anna would be safe in her grandmother’s company. I didn’t think Libby was in actual danger, either. But the news of Julie’s disappearance brought into full bloom all those irrational, motherly fears that usually saved themselves for the dark, sleepless hours of night. The fact that Libby was not actually my daughter didn’t change this in the least.
Libby had come to live with me last year after her mother, who was a friend of mine, had been killed. It had been a temporary arrangement initially, prompted by Libby’s refusal to live with her father and, more importantly, his bimbo fiancée. Since the bimbo was now his wife and neither of them had much time for Libby, they’d offered me a monthly stipend for “keeping” her until she graduated. The money was useful but I’d have done it anyway. Libby may not have been my flesh and blood, but I couldn’t have cared about her more if she were.
Pushing my way past the tissue-paper pumpkins and black cats that adorned the library entrance, I scanned the room for Libby. When I didn’t see her at the reference table or in the periodical section, I gave in to a moment of panic. Then I caught sight of her in the courtyard, deep in conversation with blue-eyed, silver-tongued Brian Walker—a young man renowned for being the only member of the senior class to have his own trust fund and his own apartment. From the expression on Libby’s face, he might have had his own kingdom as well. This was not the sort of menace I’d been worried about, but it was a situation fraught with peril all the same.
I watched for a moment longer while Brian whispered something in her ear. When Libby looked up to laugh, I quickly pulled
back behind the magazine shelves, then slipped out the door before she could see me.
After Brandon, with his punk piercings and metal-studded apparel, I’d thought anyone Libby dated would be an improvement. But I’d forgotten that old adage about the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
The light on my answering machine was blinking when I got home. Three calls for Libby, one for Anna, and two for me—both from Michael. I ran through the list of numbers he’d left, and finally reached him in his car.
“What do you know about a high school student by the name of Julie Harmon?” he asked without preamble.
I bit my lip. “She’s missing, isn’t she?”
“How did you hear that already?”
“A woman I teach with. Her daughter spoke with Julie’s aunt.”
Michael’s response was lost in a burst of static. From the accompanying sigh, however, it was likely his comment related to the speed at which news makes its way through town via the grapevine. It’s a phenomenon Michael has come to accept, but one he sometimes has trouble understanding.
“Have you found her?” I asked.
“Not yet. We were only notified of her disappearance a couple of hours ago.”
“A couple of hours ago? She’s been missing since last night!”
“Don’t yell at me, Kate. We got on it as soon as we heard.”
“I wasn’t yelling; I was just surprised.” I took a breath and asked the question that I’d been avoiding in my own mind. “Do you think she was abducted?”
“Her aunt and uncle believe she ran away. I’m on my way to talk to them now. Since the girl is a student at the high school, I thought you might know something about her.”
“She’s in my class. The only one of my students with any real talent.”
There was another burst of static. When I heard Michael’s voice again, it sounded as though he were under water.
“I can hardly hear you,” I shouted.
“I’m in the Caldecott Tunnel.” If he was shouting in return, it didn’t make much difference. But without the static, at least I could make out his words.
“How about you come with me when I talk to Julie’s family,” he said. “It would be a big help. I haven’t had a chance to find out anything more about her than what the responding officer handed over, which wasn’t much.”
Murder Among Us (A Kate Austen Mystery) Page 3
