When the bus stopped and the door swished open, two seven-year-old boys emerged. Joey Brickman is Davey’s best friend. His family lives at the other end of the block, and his mother, Alice, and I had become good friends six years earlier over baby play-dates and gymboree.
“Hi, Joey,” I said, grabbing my son’s backpack as he ran past me to greet Faith. “What are you doing here?”
“Mom had to pick Carly up at school and take her to the doctor. She might have strep throat. Mom stopped by my classroom and told me to come home with Davey. She said she’d leave you a message about it.”
Carly was Joey’s younger sister. She’d started kindergarten in September and spent the last two months bringing home every germ and disease that an elementary school could incubate. Alice and I were used to covering for one another. Over the years, we’d made a habit of it.
“Okay.” I took Joey’s backpack, too. “Let’s go inside and get you guys something to eat.”
As expected, when we reached the kitchen the message light on the answering machine was blinking. I hit the “play” button on my way to the cupboard to get out some granola bars and a couple of glasses.
Alice’s voice filled the room. She sounded frazzled, and the message she’d left was just what Joey had said it would be. The machine didn’t click off when she finished speaking, however. Instead, there was a second message.
“Hi, Melanie, this is Maris Kincaid. I know this is short notice, but I’m calling because I was hoping we could get together this afternoon. This whole thing with Sara is really creeping me out. I’m grooming a dog in Stamford not too far from where you live, so I’m just going to stop by and see if you’re there. I hope that’s okay. See you later.”
“Fine by me,” I said to nobody in particular.
It seemed to be my day for drop-in guests. And for listening to people talk about Sara. Apparently I was the only person in the whole world who realized that what Sara was or wasn’t up to was no longer my concern.
The boys finished their snacks and went upstairs to play. Maris showed up a few minutes later.
“Good, you’re here,” she said when I opened the door. “Did you get my message?”
“About fifteen minutes ago. Come on in.”
“I’m sorry to just drop in like this, but I didn’t know who else to talk to.” Maris followed me into the living room. Her gaze settled on Faith. “Nice Poodle. Do you groom her yourself?”
“Yes. With some help from my Aunt Peg. She’s shown Standard Poodles for years.”
“Peg?” Her brow furrowed as she thought. “Peg Turnbull?”
I nodded.
“No wonder she’s a good one. What’s her name?”
“Faith.” Trying to sound like I wasn’t bragging, I added, “Champion Cedar Crest Leap of Faith.”
Maris sat down on the couch and patted her knee, calling Faith to her. “Since she’s still in hair, does that mean you’re specialing her?”
“No. She just finished week before last. As soon as it’s confirmed, the coat’s coming off.”
She twined her fingers through Faith’s dense coat and rubbed behind the Poodle’s ears. Faith leaned into the caress. If she’d been a cat, she’d have been purring. My dog was perfectly content, but I was ready to move things along.
“You said you wanted to talk to me about Sara,” I prompted. “Have you heard from her?”
“No.” Maris looked up, clearly surprised by the question. “Have you?”
“No, but Bertie Kennedy has. Sara called her yesterday. She wouldn’t give Bertie any details about what she’s been doing for the last week or where she is, but apparently she’s okay. If totally unconcerned about the people who’ve been worried about her.”
Maris shook her head. “That’s Sara all the way, isn’t it? Stir things up and let other people deal with the consequences. Look, I wasn’t entirely honest with you the other day.”
“Oh?”
“It’s not like you started out being honest with me,” she pointed out. “And I didn’t know you from Adam. So I didn’t see any reason why I should start telling Sara’s secrets to you.”
“And now?” I asked.
“Now things have just gotten weirder and weirder. A disappearance is one thing. On some level, I could even see how Sara might have enjoyed the drama of it. But then there was the fire. And the body. Carole Eikenberry’s body. I know perfectly well Sara’s not enjoying that. Nobody would.”
I leaned forward in my seat. “Did you know Carole Eikenberry?”
“Yeah. Not well, but we’d met a few times. She was a friend of Sara’s. A good buddy, I guess you’d say. I know they’d done a lot of things together over the last few months.”
“So she was someone who might have known who Sara’s mystery boyfriend is,” I mused.
I had no idea whether that made a difference or not. It was just another unsolved piece in an increasingly murky puzzle.
“Actually, that kind of has to do with why I’m here. You asked me before if I knew any reason why Sara might have run away and I said no, but the truth is, there was something. Sara didn’t want anyone to know. She made me promise not to tell anyone, so I didn’t.
“Not until now, anyway. And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the rest of this stuff. But with everything else that’s going on, I just figured I ought to talk to someone else so I’m not the only one keeping this secret. In case it is important. I had your phone number and I found your address in a dog show catalogue, so here I am.”
Maris kept chattering, but I wasn’t learning anything new. I wondered if she was going to get to the point any time soon.
“Now that there’s been a murder,” I said, “the police must be running an investigation. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk to them?”
“Positive. It’s bad enough I’m betraying Sara’s confidence to one person. I’m not about to spill the beans to the whole world. Besides, this isn’t about the murder. It’s personal. It’s the kind of news a woman has every right to keep private. Sara’s pregnant.”
Yikes, I thought. That was news.
“Are you sure?”
Maris looked annoyed. “All I know is what Sara told me the last time I saw her. She was trying to get me to take over some of her clients and I was telling her no deal. At first she just said she hadn’t been feeling well, but the more she kept talking, the more I began to suspect.
“When I guessed right, she was really irritated. Keeping the pregnancy a secret seemed really important to her. Sara wasn’t even two months along, so she wasn’t showing yet or anything. Last week when you told me she’d disappeared, I thought maybe that was why she hadn’t wanted anyone to know about the baby. Maybe she’d gone away to get rid of it.”
Sara wouldn’t have had to disappear to do that, I thought, but she might have wanted to take some time to recover in private.
“Didn’t she want the baby?” I asked.
“That’s the problem,” said Maris. “Things don’t exactly add up. Because Sara said that she did want the baby. In fact, she was thrilled with the idea. But then I wondered if maybe she’d changed her mind. It’s not like she’s married or anything, and she isn’t the kind of person I could picture wanting to settle down.
“I figured it would be just like Sara to drop out of sight, fix the problem, and then act as if the whole thing had never happened. You know how women get when they’re pregnant, all emotional and unpredictable.”
No, that was society’s perception of how women behaved when they were pregnant. As I remembered my own experience, I’d been remarkably level-headed. Of course, that was an admittedly biased view. Bob might have had a different opinion.
I sat for a minute and thought about things. Maris’s news certainly put a different slant on the situation. But unfortunately it didn’t address the bigger question: if Sara had merely dropped out of sight for a few days to ponder or even act upon her options, how had a dead body turned u
p in her burned-down house in her absence?
“Did Sara tell you who the baby’s father is?” I asked.
“No, and you better believe I asked. Having a baby is a big decision, not something you just do on the spur of the moment. Even Sara couldn’t be that impulsive. But she wouldn’t give me a clue. Just smiled and said there was no need to worry about minor details like that.”
Minor details? I wondered if that meant Sara wasn’t planning to tell the father.
I thought back to the first meeting I’d had with Debra at the tennis courts. She’d said Sara was looking for a lawyer. Could this have been the reason why?
I reached up and rubbed my temples. All this information was beginning to give me a headache. I read plenty of mysteries. I know perfectly well that people are supposed to give you answers. How come everyone I talked to just gave me more questions?
“What do you suppose this has to do with Carole Eikenberry?” I asked.
“I have no idea.” Maris nudged Faith gently aside and stood up. “And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I want to know. Having Sara for a friend is like being on a roller-coaster ride. You’re either way up or way down. Well, right now I’m thinking about hopping off.”
I knew how she felt; I was about ready to jump ship myself. I stood and walked Maris to the door.
“Would you do me a favor?” she asked as she lifted her jean jacket off the coatrack and pulled it on.
“I’ll try.”
“You said that Bertie had heard from Sara?”
“Right. Yesterday.”
“If she hears from her again, or if you do, would you ask Sara to call me? She still owes me the money for all that work I did for her last week. I want to make sure it doesn’t slip her mind.”
Cold air billowed in when I opened the door. As soon as Maris had gone through, I pushed it shut behind her. I watched through the window as she got in her car and drove away. Somehow I suspected that the small sum of money Sara owed to Maris was the least of her problems.
Alice didn’t bother to knock. She simply let herself in the front door and walked straight back to the kitchen, where she found me with schoolwork spread out over the butcher block table. Faith, gnawing on a new rawhide chip, didn’t get up, though she did thump her tail up and down in greeting.
“Grab a seat,” I said. “And a soda, if you like.”
“Diet?” Alice was already heading toward the refrigerator. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her lightly freckled skin was makeup free. Jeans, which had been tight a month earlier, were now merely snug.
“No, regular. Sorry. You look like you’ve lost some weight, though.”
“Maybe a pound or two. No time to eat. With both kids finally in school, you’d think I’d have more free time, but somehow it hasn’t worked out that way.”
“That’s what you get for volunteering to be kindergarten room mother. And speaking of which, how’s Carly?”
“Asleep in the car out front. Absolutely out like a light. I can only stay a minute. It is strep. They did a culture to confirm.” Alice popped the top on a can of Coke, guzzled down a long swallow, and sank into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “I’ll sit over here so I don’t contaminate you. I’m probably covered with germs.”
“Like I’m not.” Teachers run that risk every day. “Listen, I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Say you were pregnant . . .”
Alice snorted. “Bite your tongue!”
“Okay.” I grinned and started over. “When you were pregnant . . .”
“Better.”
“Do you think you were overly emotional or impetuous? Did you behave irrationally?”
“Eating patterns aside?” Alice cocked a brow.
“Sure.”
“No, I think I was a model of madonna-like stability.”
“For real?”
“For real.” Alice slouched back in her chair. “Why? Did you go nuts or something?”
“No, not that I remember.”
“Shoot up a post office? Sign up for the New York Marathon? Buy a satellite dish and stick it in the back yard? Wear Spandex to the ballet?”
“No,” I said, enjoying the mental images. “None of the above.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I’ve been looking for a woman—a friend of a friend—who seemed to have disappeared. While she was gone, her house burned down and someone was killed. Another friend just told me that the woman was pregnant, and implied she hadn’t been thinking clearly. I just wanted to get your take on the subject.”
“Anyone who’s involved in a fire and a murder probably isn’t thinking clearly. But it’s a stretch to blame either one on pregnancy. Otherwise you’d see a lot more dead husbands running around.”
Alice stopped, frowning as she thought about what she’d said. “You know what I mean.”
I did, and I agreed.
“Pregnant or not, whatever your friend has gotten herself mixed up in, I bet she went into it with her eyes wide open.”
That was what I was afraid of.
21
Thursday I actually managed to make it through an entire school day without any unexpected interruptions. Apparently, this fact was not lost on our esteemed headmaster, Russell Hanover II. We passed in the hallway as Faith and I were leaving that afternoon.
Mr. Hanover characterizes himself as a hands-on administrator, and there isn’t much that goes on at Howard Academy that he isn’t privy to. Our meeting might have happened by chance, but I suspected it hadn’t. The man has a gift for micromanagement.
“Everything going well, Ms. Travis?” he asked, pausing to pat the top of Faith’s head. Russell calls all his associates by their last names, even teachers who have been at the school for years.
“Very well, Mr. Hanover,” I replied demurely.
“You’ve been busy this week.”
“No more than usual.” The lie slipped out with shocking ease. This was what getting involved in murders had done to me: corrupted my need for scrupulous honesty.
“I hear you’ve had several visitors.”
“Only two.”
If you didn’t count Debra, whom I’d slipped out to meet, I added silently.
Russell nodded somberly. He was probably adding Debra to his list as well.
“As I’m sure you know, we prefer that our teachers handle personal matters on their own time. When you’re here, we feel that all your energies should be devoted to your students.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “It won’t happen again.”
“On the other hand,” Russell continued, “we also expect our teachers to be an integral part of the community at large. Considering the importance of some outside projects, we are prepared to offer a degree of latitude when circumstances warrant. I believe your own activities, such as I’ve been aware of them in the past, might fall under this umbrella.”
“Really?” Even though I’d solved a murder on the school grounds the year before, I was still surprised. “Thank you.”
“Don’t abuse the privilege, Ms. Travis.”
“I won’t.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that you haven’t become involved in another investigation?”
“Worse,” I told him. “A wedding.”
Russell’s brow arched upward. “Are congratulations in order?”
“No, I’m afraid it’s my brother’s wedding, not mine.”
“I hope you’ll pass along my best wishes.”
“I’d be happy to.”
I started to move on, but Russell had one last comment to make. “I’m so looking forward to a peaceful holiday season this year. You will try to stay out of trouble, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Too bad we both knew things didn’t always work out that way.
“How fast can you come up with a baby-sitter?” Bertie asked.
Davey and I had just finished eating d
inner when the phone rang. As soon as I heard the question, I knew I could forget about my plans for a quiet evening at home.
“Ten minutes if Joanie, the girl down the block, is free. Why?”
“I’m at Frank’s,” said Bertie. “Find out and call me right back.”
She hadn’t, I noticed, answered my question.
Nevertheless, I did as she’d requested. Joanie was a teenager with many virtues, not the least of which was her love of children in general, and my son in particular. I’d been using her services since Davey was two, and the fact that she’d be leaving for college in less than a year was going to leave a hole in both our lives.
“Sure, I can come,” Joanie said cheerfully. “As long as you’re not going to be too late. Is it okay if I bring some homework with me for after Davey goes to bed?”
“Fine,” I assured her. The teenager knew my son’s routine as well as I did. I quickly called Bertie back.
“Great. I’m leaving Frank’s now. I’ll be by to pick you up in twenty minutes.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot to mention that part, didn’t I?”
Forgot, my foot.
“We’re going to New Canaan,” Bertie announced. “Sara’s back home. She’s expecting us.”
My mouth opened and shut.
“Speechless, eh?” Bertie was grinning. I could hear it in her voice. “See you soon.”
She hung up and I went to break the news to Davey that he’d be spending the evening with his baby-sitter instead of his mother. He was thrilled.
Sometimes being a parent is a real kick in the pants, you know?
I was waiting by the front door when Bertie drove up.
“Have fun!” Joanie said as I slipped on my coat. Faith was lying next to her on the couch. My son, plotting his next move on the Monopoly board between them, barely looked up. I let myself out, ran down the steps, and got into the passenger seat of Bertie’s van. She threw the Chevy into reverse and was already backing out as I fastened my seat belt.
“What do you mean, Sara’s back?” I asked, picking up our conversation where we’d left off. “When did that happen? Back from where?”
Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) Page 16
