Jared was a caring person and good company, but there was no magical spark between us. I liked Dylan, but it was too soon to know how he felt about me. My pulse quickened. Maybe I’d find out Thanksgiving weekend.
I considered wearing one of my Goth outfits just to raise eyebrows but then decided to wear brown leggings, a beige blouse with a pattern of horses, a long beige cardigan and, of course, my new boots. I showered, dressed, and started on my makeup. I began to perk up as I lined my eyes with black eyeliner.
Jared came for me at a quarter to seven. As we drove to the restaurant, I told him of my unsuccessful venture into the attic in hopes that his mother might have left her journal there.
“It’s not very likely, is it?” he said.
“I suppose it’s wishful thinking, which is why nobody needs to know I’m going up there again. That way, no one will be disappointed.”
“Unless you find it!”
As we approached the restaurant, I asked Jared if he was upset that his father was dating Helena.
“Not as much as I’d expected. Dad and I’ve spoken more in the past few days than in the previous six months. He sounds so happy. And Helena seems to like the idea of us all going out for dinner. Tonight was her idea.”
“Does she have children of her own?”
“No. Either she or Lloyd couldn’t have children.”
“What happened to Lloyd?”
“He died a year or two after Mom. Heart attack, I believe.”
The maître d’ led us to Bryce and Helena’s table.
Bryce surprised me by leaping to his feet and hugging first Jared and then me, a broad grin on his face. “It’s so nice to see you, Carrie, under much more pleasant circumstances.”
“Nice to see you too . . .”
“Call me Bryce.”
I smiled. “Okay, I will.”
“Jared, good to see you,” Helena said when he kissed her cheek. “Carrie, I’m glad you’re joining us tonight.” She tucked away the brochures scattered about the table. “Bryce was helping me select new doors for my condo. There’s so much more to do than I expected.”
I sat next to Bryce, and Jared took the seat opposite me. Two uncorked bottles of wine and six glasses were already on the table.
“What’s your pleasure, Carrie?” Bryce asked. “Merlot or pinot grigio?”
“Pinot grigio, please.”
“Jared?” Bryce poured a generous amount into my glass.
“I’ll have a Beck’s dark.”
“Of course. Of course. Whatever you want.” Bryce looked around until he caught our waiter’s attention.
Helena downed the last of her wine and reached for the bottle of white. “I sure love this pinot.” She filled her glass.
Jared stared from Helena to his father. “How long have you two been chugging away?”
“Not long at all,” Bryce said. “What would you say, Helena? Ten minutes?”
Helena laughed. “Certainly no more than twenty.” She gulped down a mouthful of wine.
Oh, no. It’s going to be one of those evenings.
The waiter arrived at the same time as Gillian and Ryan. He waited while they greeted everyone and took their seats next to Jared, across from Bryce and Helena.
Bryce pointed to Jared. “A Beck’s dark for my son. Gillian, Ryan, would you like wine or something else to drink?”
Gillian chose the merlot, and Ryan ordered a double scotch straight up.
“Now that that’s all settled,” Bryce said, “we can relax and enjoy ourselves.”
He finished his merlot and poured himself another glass. Jared and I exchanged glances. I felt as though we were the adults and Helena and Bryce were teenagers intent on getting drunk.
“Does he often get like this?” I murmured so only Jared could hear.
“Never.” He pressed his lips together.
“So”—Ryan turned to each of us—“what has everyone been up to this past week?” He stared pointedly at me. “Carrie?”
I shrugged. “Working hard at the library.”
“No more murders, I hope.”
I didn’t bother answering.
He turned to Jared. “Little brother, did you have a busy week too?”
“Yep. I flew to Providence to see a client.”
“All on your lonesome, eh? Dad, what have you been up to?”
Bryce had a cat-that-ate-the-canary look. “I’ve been working hard at the store.”
Ryan gave his father a devilish grin. “So I see. And Helena, what have you been up to lately?”
“I’m working feverishly on my new condo. Your father’s been kind enough to help me pick out furniture.”
“How nice for you.”
“And you, Ryan, what have you been doing?” Jared asked.
Ryan shot him an amused look. “How kind of you to show interest. I’ve been busy lining up a new job.”
“Really?” their father said. “That’s good news. Want to tell us about it?”
“Not till it’s all settled. I don’t want to spook my chances. Right, babe?” He pulled Gillian close and kissed her cheek. “Gillian has her own good news. Tell them.”
“I’m getting a promotion at the dealership where I work—to assistant manager.”
“Bigger pay and perhaps a bigger apartment.” Ryan winked.
Oh, oh. What are you thinking, Gillian?
Jared and I looked at one another. “She has no idea what she’s in for,” he mouthed as the waiter approached with six large menus.
I decided to order shrimp oreganata and put my menu aside when Helena said, “Why don’t we order family style—a large antipasto for the table and four main courses with veggies and pasta?”
“Great idea, Helena,” Ryan said. “I want a sausage dish. Gillian?”
“I’d love seafood marinara.” She grinned.
“Seafood marinara it is! Dad, what would you like?”
“Meatballs in tomato sauce. Their meatballs are the best!”
“Chicken in white wine sauce would be lovely,” Helena said.
“There are your four dishes,” Ryan said. “A few sides and we’re done.”
“You didn’t bother asking Carrie and me what we want to eat,” Jared said stiffly.
“I could eat some seafood and chicken,” I said.
“That’s not the point! As usual, Ryan arrives late and takes over.”
“Get over it, little brother. You can’t have everything your way.”
“I don’t want everything—”
“Jared and Carrie, please order whatever you like,” Bryce said. “Forget the meatballs.”
“I didn’t mean to start a family feud,” Helena said. “I thought it would be easier and less waste if we ordered family style.”
“Carrie, what would you like?” Jared asked.
“Shrimp oreganata.”
“I’ll have veal scaloppini,” Jared said.
“We’ll order all five,” Bryce said. “No, six. I’ll have the meatballs, after all.”
Helena smiled. “It’s all settled then. Ah, here comes our waiter.”
Bryce ordered for us, and Helena asked for another bottle of pinot grigio.
“Are you sure?” Bryce whispered. “You’ve had a lot to drink tonight. You’ll get a headache if you have any more.”
“Are you kidding?” Helena said. “Believe me, I can drink a few glasses of wine without getting sick.”
“Another bottle of pinot grigio.” Bryce looked unhappy.
Gillian glanced my way, and I rolled my eyes. I should have trusted my instincts and avoided this dinner.
Our waiter brought us a plate of piping hot garlic twists and another with pieces of bruschetta piled high. He opened the new bottle of wine with a flourish. Ryan ordered another double scotch, and Jared ordered another beer. Bryce, Gillian, Helena, and I refilled our wineglasses and conversation resumed. Minutes later, our waiter placed a platter of antipasto and six salad plates on the table.
“I’ll be mother and dole out the salad,” Helena said.
We all stared at her, even Bryce.
“Sorry, that was tasteless of me.”
We passed the dishes of salad around. When I handed Jared his, he whispered, “Sorry I asked you to come along.”
“Dinner’s almost over,” I whispered back.
By the time our main courses arrived, I wasn’t very hungry. I ate a small part of my shrimp dish and told the waiter I’d like to take the rest home.
“Would you like to taste the veal?” Jared asked.
“A small piece, please.”
Jared cut it for me and held out his fork.
“Delicious and tender. I’ll have to order it next time.”
“You plan to come again soon?” Ryan asked.
I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or jeering. He went back to giving his undivided attention to Gillian and gobbling down the large shrimp she’d offered.
Helena and Bryce fed each other forkfuls of their food. Eventually, everyone had eaten all they could.
A young man cleared the table and gathered up the leftovers to be boxed. I can leave soon, I thought hopefully. I was wrong. Bryce insisted that we order cappuccinos and three desserts for the table.
“Tell me, Jared, how’s your little investigation going?” Ryan asked.
Bryce turned to Ryan. “What investigation are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know? Jared and Carrie are conducting an investigation to find out who killed Mom and that detective who couldn’t solve her murder.”
“Is that true, Jared?”
Jared’s face turned red, and my ears burned.
“We tried to find out what we could—”
“But had no success,” I quickly added.
“Why, Jared, when I told you years ago not to get involved in your mother’s case? The police—”
“That’s the trouble,” Jared said. “The police are hopeless. They have no idea who killed Mom or Al.”
“You’re forgetting the detective in charge of Mom’s case was Al Buckley, the guy you thought so highly of,” Ryan said.
“Yes, but Al finally figured out who the murderer was,” Jared said.
Ryan snickered. “I don’t believe that for one minute. If he knew so much, why all the questions that night? He was looking for information, not offering any.”
“That’s because he’d figured out who murdered Mom but had no evidence to back it up. He was hoping to get some that evening.”
“What? Suddenly the killer was going to have an attack of guilt and stand up and shout, ‘It was me! Call the police.’”
“Ryan, that’s enough,” Bryce said.
“Sorry, Dad.”
Gillian stroked Ryan’s arm. He took her hand and clasped it tight. Maybe he seriously had feelings for her. Not that it mattered. Ryan was full of anger and hostility. He lacked the loving traits I would want in a boyfriend.
“Do you think Detective Buckley confided his findings to anyone?” Helena asked.
“I doubt it. His closest friend had no idea whom Al suspected.” I didn’t feel like mentioning Roy had been assaulted and ended up in the hospital.
“He probably kept everything on his iPad,” Jared said. “The killer took it the night Al was poisoned.”
“Proof that the two murders are linked,” Gillian said.
We all stared at her. It was her first contribution to the conversation.
Jared cleared his throat. “There’s one possible lead, but it’s only hypothetical.”
I glared at him, but he seemed to be enjoying the spotlight too much to notice. “Carrie learned Mom was seen writing in the library the last weeks of her life. We’re thinking she might have kept a journal. Carrie’s investigating. There’s a chance it’s still there.”
“A hidden journal!” Gillian said. “Awesome!”
I pressed my lips together, hating how this was playing out. So far, the existence of a journal was only guesswork and not something I wanted to discuss with Laura’s family.
Ryan’s eyes were scrutinizing me. “What aren’t you telling us, Carrie?”
“Nothing! I only know your mom occasionally wrote during her free time at the library. No one said anything about a journal.”
“If she kept a journal, it might have information about someone she was afraid of,” Gillian said.
“Or the mysterious Mr. X.” Ryan glanced at his father. “Sorry, Dad.”
Bryce sighed. “I’ll never stop wondering who killed your mother and why.” He turned to me, his voice cracking with emotion. “Do you think Laura wrote down her thoughts and feelings and left the pages somewhere in the library?”
He sounded so sad, I had no choice but to answer him truthfully.
“It’s possible she occasionally wrote in a room that’s now used for storage. I checked it out. The place is a total mess. Full of cartons of books piled high. Finding some pages or a notebook would be an impossible task—that is, if she even left them there.”
Helena put her hand on Bryce’s arm. “Perhaps it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.” She smiled as our waiter approached. “Ah, here come our cappuccinos and desserts.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
We finally left half an hour later. Gillian and I hugged Bryce good-bye, and we all thanked him for dinner. Bryce and Helena remained at the table, clearly in no rush to leave. She spread open one of the brochures she’d tucked away earlier and pointed to something. Bryce offered his opinion. Gillian and I walked to the exit together while Jared and Ryan followed behind, chatting amiably as if they had always been on good terms.
“Wow! That was one emotional psychodrama,” Gillian whispered. “Are they always like this when they get together?”
“I hope not.”
We both rolled our eyes and giggled.
“I could tell you didn’t want to talk about the possibility that their mother had left a journal, but the idea that she might have is exciting.”
“Yes, but there’s no point in getting Bryce’s hopes up if it doesn’t pan out.”
In the car, Jared said, “That didn’t go too badly.” He leaned over to kiss me, but I pulled away.
“What’s wrong, Carrie?”
“Are you serious? It was awful! From the moment we arrived, I couldn’t wait to leave.”
“Really?” He sniffed as he backed out of the parking spot.
“For starters, your brother is obnoxious and mean-spirited and puts you down every chance he gets.”
“That’s Ryan,” he muttered.
“For another, I asked you not to mention that your mother wrote during her free time in the library. It may have been a journal, or for all we know, she was composing a short story.”
“What’s wrong with their knowing? You can’t think any of them murdered my mother.”
I had my suspicions but thought it wise not to mention them. “Why get their hopes up when we have nothing real to go on? Your mom wrote in the library fifteen years ago. We have no reason to believe she hid whatever she wrote in some secret cranny. She might have brought the pages home with her. She might have ripped them up. That what she wrote still exists is pure speculation.”
“Won’t you reconsider going back up to the attic to search for her journal?”
I let out a snort of exasperation. “Sorry, Jared. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
That said, we drove the rest of the way home in silence.
* * *
Though I was exhausted, I was unable to fall asleep that night. I kept rehashing the evening’s conversations, trying to figure out exactly what was troubling me. So the Foster family wasn’t the happy, close-knit unit they and their Clover Ridge neighbors would have had everyone believe. Bryce had been a workaholic. Laura had felt neglected and unhappy and had looked for love elsewhere. Ryan had serious anger management issues even before his parents’ marriage began to fray.
And Jared? I believed he’d been a kindh
earted boy who’d been buffeted about by his parents’ and brother’s dysfunctional behavior. Tonight I’d observed how desperate he was to win his father’s and brother’s goodwill and approval. Why else had he been so eager to tell them about the possible journal when we’d agreed not to share that with anyone? I’d made my feelings very clear on the subject, but he ignored both my feelings and me.
I finally drifted off and awoke at five thirty, unable to sleep any longer. A strange dream about digging in a cave was fading as I woke, and I knew I wanted to go back to the attic and try once again to find Laura’s journal. Only this time, I wouldn’t tell Jared.
* * *
Sunday at noon, I carried Smoky Joe into the library, which was suddenly bedecked with Thanksgiving decorations. As soon as I set him down, he sniffed at the pilgrims, turkeys, scarecrows, and dried bunches of colored corn arraying every nook and cranny. Many of our upcoming programs were in celebration of the holiday.
I was glad that neither Trish nor Susan was scheduled to come in that day. I needed to be alone to work out whatever was disturbing my peace of mind. I was disappointed in Jared. I had no idea if we’d be seeing each other again. What’s more, I didn’t know that I cared.
“You look down in the mouth for a sunny November afternoon.”
I looked up from my computer into Evelyn’s smiling face.
“What are you so happy about?”
“Nothing in particular. I sensed you weren’t in the best of moods, and I’ve come to cheer you up.”
“I could use cheering up,” I admitted. “I was at the dinner from hell last night.”
“Do tell.”
When I finished my account, she tsk-tsked. “Not a fun evening for you. How did Jared and Ryan take to Helena dating their father?”
“Not as badly as I thought they would. When Jared first found out, he carried on about how she was the most awful person, but he didn’t seem upset by her being with us last night.”
Evelyn’s eyebrows shot up. “And Ryan?”
“He was too busy being offensive and putting Jared down to go after Helena.”
Death Overdue Page 22
