She nodded. “Made me quite cheerful.”
He gave her a Hank look. The one he used when he thought she was being silly. It made him look much older, and it amused her. His dark brows came close together over his eyes, and his firm mouth got a pinched look as if he’d eaten something sour.
Thoughts of Crystal came flooding back, and Tina had the sudden, horrible realization that she, too, could die at any moment. There was so much in life she still wanted to do and so many questions she wanted answered. Especially about Hank.
“I hear your mother’s in town,” she said.
“Yes.” His face shut down. Not even a Hank look gave anything away.
“Where does she go all the time, Hank? She’s not ill, is she?”
“No, not ill.”
An uncomfortable silence arose between them. The waitress cleared the appetizer and served their salads.
“You didn’t answer me. Where does she go?”
“It’s really none of your business, Tina.” Still, no expression. Even his eyes looked dead.
“We’ve been friends for years now, Hank. Almost three decades! Friends generally know more about each other than we do. At least, you know a lot more about me than I do about you or your family.”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He tried to smile, but didn’t quite make it. “Or marry you.”
She gasped. Her fork fell from her hand with a clatter onto the crystal salad dish. The “m” word had never passed his lips before. She stared at him while he fumbled with his cocktail glass.
“Scratch that,” he said.
She didn’t know whether to be amused, outraged, happy, or sad. She’d tried to imagine how it would be to marry Hank, but her mind wouldn’t go there. It was easy enough to think of being married to Brandon. She knew it would be a comfortable life with him. No surprises. Maybe a tad boring after a while.
She doubted Hank would ever bore her, but sometimes he scared her, and they both pulled away when things got too personal, like now. Whatever had possessed her? Crystal’s death.
“One of my best friends just died, Hank. I don’t want to die.” Her throat closed up, and she took a sip of her daiquiri. “But I also don’t want to live with all these questions … “
He took her hand. “Doll, there’s no way you can have all the answers in this life. You might as well ask me why we were born, why the sky is blue, and how giraffes came to be.”
His hand warmed her icy one. She hadn’t realized how cold she was. She felt shriveled, diminished, confused.
“Are you saying you don’t know where your mother goes when she disappears?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” He took his hand away from hers and looked off into the distance.
She felt bereft. She’d lost Crystal. She couldn’t lose Hank, too, and if she pushed him any more, that was a real possibility.
“I’m sorry I asked,” she said.
He nodded and looked at her. The old Hank was back. She breathed a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER 11
The next morning Tina sat at the breakfast table with Uncle Bob, reading the paper, when the phone rang. Tina waited for the answering machine to get it. Most people she knew in Newport her mother’s age and older didn’t use cell phones or caller ID. It had taken a lot for Tina to get Laura to buy an answering machine. All the telemarketing calls had finally convinced her to do that.
At first all Tina could hear was sobbing, then finally Rachel said, “Tina, you there?”
Tina grabbed the receiver. “I’m here, Rach.”
“Did you see the paper?”
“Oh, Rach, yes, I did. I’m so sorry.”
“You saw what they wrote about our house?” More sobs.
“Don’t worry about it.” Tina felt suddenly tired, as if she hadn’t slept at all last night. She’d had a nightmare about Crystal and couldn’t go back to sleep for over an hour. “Everyone will forget about it eventually,” she reassured Rachel, rubbing her forehead. She knew that wasn’t true. No one would ever forget. She sighed. “We’ll straighten it out as soon as the police are done. Any word on when that will be?”
“No!” Rachel wailed. “They won’t say. They’re being horrible. They give us these looks, like they think we all murdered Crystal.”
The thought crossed Tina’s mind that maybe Rachel had done it, but she pushed it away. Certainly she didn’t shoot Nicky.
“I just know one of them told the reporter about my house,” Rachel said, “and they won’t let us back in. I can’t even go inside to get my clothes! And I can’t talk to Mother. She’s in denial or something. Nicky had to go to work and clear some stuff up so he can attend the funeral. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“How is Nicky?”
Rachel’s voice gained strength. “He’s amazing. He claims it doesn’t hurt. I know he took some pain pills, but I still think it would hurt.”
“Well, that’s good. I think you need to shop for some clothes. Especially something to wear to the funeral. When is it?”
“We don’t have a date yet. The police don’t know when they’ll release the body. Mother made the arrangements—she had the man come here to discuss it. She won’t leave the house.”
“How about I take you shopping?”
“Oh, Tina, that’s so nice of you. I’d like that.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up in half an hour and we’ll have lunch out, as well.”
Dr. Ted’s grungy kitchen could wait a day. It wasn’t going anywhere. Tina figured Rachel was calling her and not a friend because she couldn’t invite them over to her house and was so embarrassed she stopped going to theirs.
Rachel had a hard time deciding what to buy. Tina could tell she wanted to buy at least four of the outfits she’d tried on for the funeral, but forced herself to choose one. Wide-legged black slacks and a plain black top with white piping around the collar and down the front. She needed underwear, stockings, shoes, and some everyday clothes, as well. Jeans and tops. Boots because it could snow anytime now.
Over lunch at D’Angelo’s, Rachel said, “Thanks so much, Tina, for this. I don’t have any friends left, you know.” She took a bite of her tuna sub and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “I can’t have them over, and I can’t tell them why. It’s so embarrassing. I hope you can help me.”
“I’m sure I can. Rach, you already know how to organize some. Your boxes were in neat piles. The nursery … “She swallowed hard. “The nursery was perfect… “Tina trailed off, hoping Rachel would explain.
“I know,” Rachel whispered. “After we finally found out we couldn’t have any children—it’s my fault—I couldn’t go in there again. Nicky dusts and vacuums. He’s always grumpy afterward.”
“Why do you think it’s your fault?” Tina asked.
“Something to do with my uterus.” Tears squeezed out of her eyes, and she brushed them away.
“That’s not your fault,” Tina said. “That’s just bad luck or fate or whatever you want to call it. I’m so sorry, Rach. Have you thought about adopting?”
“We’re talking about it. A little. Nicky doesn’t seem to want to. I don’t know … “
But he cleans the nursery. Both Rach and Nicky could use some counseling. But she’d given that up. And she wasn’t going back.
“Well, time enough to think about all that later.” Tina squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Right now we need to get you back on track. As I said, you created a perfect room. You can do the same with all the rooms. You just need to be able to let go of a lot of the stuff, and you’ll be fine.”
“I have too much trouble deciding what to do with everything. There’s just too much.” Rachel wiped away more tears.
“It’s hard because there are so many decisions to make. It will get easier for you as we go along, and you’ll feel better about the house and about yourself. I’ll teach you not only how to get it all straightened out, but how to keep it that way without a lot of effort. Then you ca
n contact your old friends and have them over for lunch.”
“That would be wonderful.” Rachel’s voice was wistful, unbelieving. “I have to try,” she said. “Crystal wanted me to.”
“There you go. Crystal could be a bit pushy, but her heart was in the right place. Do you remember the time she organized us all to take turns visiting Brandon when he broke his leg?”
Rachel nodded. “And when Dad was in the hospital, dying, she kept Mom and me going, making sure we ate, keeping the house up. God, Tina, I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”
“You’ll be fine. Ask yourself what she’d do, and if you think you should do the same thing, go for it. How’s your mother holding up?”
“Not so well. I know she seemed fine when you saw her, but she’s coming unraveled, I think.”
“Then you should step in, Rachel. Make the meals, clean up the kitchen. Keep at least the front room straightened out in case people drop by.”
“I guess I could do that.”
“Of course you can.” Tina ate her last potato chip and took the last sip of her root beer. “Now, what about some more shopping? I’d like to hit the bookstores. How about you?”
“Yeah. Maybe we can find some books about organizing.”
Tina laughed. “Hey, that’s not such a bad idea. You can cram for the exam.”
They left D’Angelo’s in a brighter mood. There was always shopping.
Tina dropped Rachel off at her mother’s around four and drove home, pleasantly tired. She found her mother in the kitchen, making a meatloaf. Tina grimaced as she plopped herself into a kitchen chair and watched Laura put the meat into a pan. It would have too much pepper, be undercooked, and fall apart when Laura tried to serve it. She wished for Hank to rescue her again and take her to a nice restaurant.
“Where’s Uncle Bob?” Tina asked.
“He’s not feeling so good. Something with his stomach.”
“Probably something he ate, which he cooked himself,” Tina said. “What did he have for lunch?”
“I don’t know.” Laura gave the meatloaf a pat with the back of a spoon and put it in the refrigerator. She took three baking potatoes out of the bin and began to scrub them. She always started preparations early so she could sit down with a cocktail or a glass of wine while dinner cooked.
“Well, I hope he’s okay,” Tina said, a bit worried although Uncle Bob did frequently complain of stomach pains. He’d been checked out thoroughly years ago. Maybe it was time to do it again. “When did he start with this trouble with his stomach, anyway? Seems he’s had it ever since I can remember.”
Laura shrugged. “He was this way when he moved in with us. I’ve always thought it was either something he ate or nerves, or a little of both. Now I’m not so sure. What’s he got to be nervous about? And sometimes he eats something and gets sick; other times he eats the same thing with no problem.”
“Maybe he should see a doctor. When was the last time he did that?”
“Oh, years ago.” Laura wiped the scrubbed potatoes with a paper towel and set them at the back of the counter. She went to get a small casserole dish to put the vegetables in to microwave.
“Maybe he should go again. Maybe they know more now than they did back then.”
“Good idea. You talk to him. He won’t listen to me.”
“I will. Any phone calls?”
“Brandon called, and Hank. And Dr. Hockmann. I feel like a regular receptionist.”
“Sorry. Maybe I should get my own phone line.”
Her mother waved her hand at her. “Too much trouble. And boy would that confuse Princess.”
Tina laughed. The dog thought she should alert Uncle Bob every time the phone rang, even though he never answered it. Poor Uncle Bob had to stop whatever he was doing to see what she was alerting him to. It could be the front door, the smoke alarm, or the carbon dioxide alarm, so he always followed her. Most of the time it was the phone. Tina’s mother was a stickler for safety and had every alarm and alerting device she could buy in the house. Lights flashed when the doorbell or the telephone rang. Since Uncle Bob often burned things, the smoke alarm went off at an alarming rate. Princess was a hard-working dog.
“Well, just let the answering machine get the phone, then.”
“Tina, darling, sometimes it is for me, you know.”
Tina blushed a little. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking. Caller ID?”
Laura gave her a sour look.
Tina stood up and the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”
The two police officers who had questioned them when she and Rachel found Crystal stood on the doorstep.
“We need to talk to you,” Lisbeth said, squaring her shoulders.
“Come in.” Tina’s throat closed up with fear. What did she have to be afraid of? She didn’t know, but the way they were looking at her, as if she were a bug they wanted to squash, made her nervous.
“Who is it?” her mother asked, coming into the foyer, wiping her hands on a towel.
“These are the police… um, people who came to Rachel’s house when Crystal was … “
Laura looked them both up and down in her most haughty manner. Tina didn’t know whether to be amused or more worried. It didn’t seem like a good idea to tick off the police.
“And you are here because?” she asked Lisbeth.
“We have a few questions for your daughter.”
“I don’t know what she could possibly tell you.”
“It will only take a few minutes,” John said. “We can do it here or at the station.” He stuck out his weak chin.
Laura retreated. “Come in, then.” She led them to the living room and sat down on the dark green couch.
The two officers now stood awkwardly near the doorway. Tina sat down on a chair opposite her mother and looked at them expectantly.
Finally Lisbeth strode over to the chair opposite Tina and sat down. Her feet barely touched the floor. John remained in the doorway.
“Tell us what you know about Mrs. Hudson. Any thoughts you might have on why someone would want her dead?” Lisbeth asked, opening her notebook and getting out a pen.
“You want gossip?” Laura asked before Tina could speak. “You’ve come to the wrong place for that.”
Tina looked at her mother and put her hand in her pocket to finger the worry stone.
“I don’t know any, anyway,” Tina said. “Crystal and I were friendly, we knew each other for years, but after she got married we sort of lost touch. When she found out I was a professional organizer, she contacted me for Rachel.”
She noticed John’s smirk. He still thought her new profession was silly. She’d like to reorganize his face.
“And that’s all Tina can tell you,” her mother said, folding her arms across her chest.
Don’t tick them off too much, Mother, Tina thought. I don’t want to be a suspect.
“I think you knew Mrs. Hudson a bit better than you’re telling us here,” Lisbeth said.
Laura bristled noticeably. Chill, Tina begged her silently.
“You went to her wedding,” Lisbeth continued. “You saw her socially at parties. Sometimes you had lunch together. As a matter of fact, we’ve been told that about a week ago you had a rather public argument with her.”
Tina blushed. Laura glowered. Tina remembered the argument, of course, but she’d never thought it would mean anything. They’d both gotten over it, had even apologized to each other when Crystal called to ask her help with Rachel’s house.
Tina picked her words carefully. “Crystal liked to run things. That was her style. And sometimes the rest of us objected. We’re planning a winter dance at the country club, and she wanted to do a Hawaiian theme. In Newport! It didn’t make sense to me, or to several other people at the planning committee meeting.”
“You hold committee meetings in the public dining room?”
“Yes.” Tina was surprised anyone would think that odd. It was the way it had always been don
e. “It’s very efficient. That way, we can eat and meet—do two things at once.”
No one smiled. Tina shrugged and quit talking. Let them ask questions. She forced herself to stop worrying the worry stone.
“So you argued about the theme for the next dance,” Lisbeth said.
“Yes. It wasn’t personal. Just a difference of opinion. We both apologized to each other when she contacted me to help her sister.”
“Anyone hear that conversation?” Lisbeth asked.
“No, it was a phone call.”
“What’s the theme going to be, then?” Lisbeth asked.
“Hawaiian,” Tina said. She admitted to herself she was still a bit angry about it. But Crystal usually got her way. Of course she had been gracious when she’d called Tina. She’d won, after all.
“You let her win?” her mother exclaimed.
Tina recoiled, both from her mother’s tone and because she’d said that in front of the police.
“It’s not a big deal. I was upset when she first brought it up, but I’m okay with it now.” Tina let go of the worry stone she was playing with again and crossed her fingers in her pocket.
“Harrumph,” her mother replied.
The cops followed this exchange, their eyes alive with interest.
“Do you own a gun, Ms. Shaw?” Lisbeth asked.
Tina and her mother gasped at the same time.
“Of course she doesn’t,” Laura said.
“Yes,” Tina admitted. It was registered, and she was sure the police came here knowing she owned a gun. It would be stupid to lie. Hank had bought it for her and taught her how to shoot. She was actually rather good.
Lisbeth flicked a glance at Laura, then asked, “Caliber?”
She was relentless. Tina was sure they knew all about the gun.
“It’s a twenty-two,” she said, her voice sounding defensive in her own ears. She shuddered. She could not imagine really shooting someone.
“Where’d you get a gun?” Laura asked.
“Hank gave it to me.”
“Hank who?” asked Lisbeth.
“Hank Silver.”
The officers exchanged glances. “You know Mr. Silver?” Lisbeth asked, her voice sounding strained to Tina.
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