by Mary Feliz
I looked at our friends Stephen and Jason, both of whom were experienced first responders with the skills and compassion required to deliver bad news to grieving families and friends. Paolo hung back, exhausted from driving in traffic, looking after both Tess and me, and making sure all the official requirements had been observed. He wasn’t a multitasker. Though he kept a cool head in the direst of circumstances, emotional situations drained him. Whether or not the late afternoon activities would have typically been wearisome for him, Paolo was spent. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, but experience told me he would remember every word of the conversation. “Correct me if I get any of this wrong, Paolo,” I told him. He nodded once, opened his eyes, and closed them again. It was like communicating with a cat.
Stephen had turned on the teakettle and grabbed Tess’s cobalt-blue mugs from a nearby cupboard. David sat on my right, but Brian moved to help Stephen.
Jason sat at the other end of the table, flanked by Stephen’s mastiff, Munchkin, and Tess and Teddy’s Mozart. Max sat on my left and took my hand, which was met by a heavy sigh from Belle.
“So it was Patrick?” Jason asked. “No question?”
“None.”
“Who found him? When?” Stephen asked.
I parroted the information Paolo had provided during our drive from the medical examiner’s office. “A man named Kon Sokolov, the night ranger in the county park. He found...” My throat tightened, and Stephen passed me a glass of water. I took a sip and continued. “The ranger found Patrick at about five this morning. Kon had been keeping an eye on the fire. After the wind shifted, he went up on the ridge trail to look for hot spots. The Cal Fire team was busy elsewhere, but I guess all rangers have some fire-control training.”
Before I could elaborate, Teddy burst from the back of the house, rubbing his eyes and scowling. “It’s not my dad. It can’t be. He would never go running alone.” He glanced at Brian and David for confirmation. They were all on the cross-country team and had been training together throughout the summer, often accompanied by Patrick.
“He’s right, Mom,” David said. “Patrick told us over and over not to run alone, especially in the hills, where anything could happen.” He shuddered. “He had all these gross stories about rattlesnakes and mountain lions and dislocated knees and broken ankles.”
“And even if it was my dad, there’s no way he fell. He claimed he was half mountain goat. You guys know that. Dad was always on my case, telling me to pick up my feet and scan the trail for obstacles. He stayed focused on the path ahead. Said watching your footing was a sure way to overbalance and stumble, especially on the steep downhill parts of the trails.”
Tess came into the kitchen, wiping her face with a washcloth. She’d changed from her dominatrix-tough black suit and heels into sweatpants and a faded Stanford T-shirt that I suspected had belonged to Patrick. She sat between Teddy and Jason while the dogs rearranged themselves to be closer to their people.
“Teddy’s not sure that the body you identified was Patrick’s,” Jason said, bringing Tess up-to-date.
Tess brushed her hair back from her forehead.
“It can’t be.” Teddy’s voice had a pleading tone.
“Aw, sweetheart...” Tess’s face was etched with her own pain and her aching need to soothe her son’s agony. “I agree. It can’t be. It makes no sense.” Her voice broke. “Your dad should be walking through that door right now saying how sorry he is to have given anyone such a terrible scare. The only good thing is that he didn’t suffer.”
The phrase was losing its comfort value, at least for me. Tess spoke slowly and precisely, much like someone who’d had a little too much to drink and was being careful not to slur her words.
Teddy leaned forward with his hands flat on the table. “That’s another thing. I mean, I’m glad this guy, whoever he is, didn’t die in agony. But what was he doing on the hillside below the path with a fire coming up the ridge? Dad would have known that was a dangerous place to be. Any idiot would have known that. If he’d gone down there deliberately, he could have climbed out, right? So, something must have happened. Has the coroner checked for other injuries or did he just look at the guy and say, ‘Oh, crispy critter. Died of wildfire burns.’”
I winced at the insensitivity and harshness of Teddy’s words. David and Brian appeared shocked, then seemed to be battling the kind of hysterical laughter that often emerges in the face of death. I signaled to them to head outside, where they had less chance of offending or distracting anyone while they got their emotions under control.
Tess shook her head and bit her lip. “You’re right, Teddy. He did have additional injuries. A skull fracture, the medical examiner said. Consistent with a fall and a collision with a rock.”
“But if he fell, why did he fall? Let’s say this guy truly is Dad. It’s not, but look at what happened. Dad must have been attacked to have fallen and been unable to climb back up. Someone else might have fallen and hit their head, but Dad—he always won the chicken fights in the pool because no one could knock him off balance.”
I felt a palpable shift in the emotional tenor of the group. Moments ago, I’d felt pity for Teddy and his denial of his father’s mortality, let alone his actual death. But the boy’s arguments were convincing. I was still certain that the dead man found on the ridge was Patrick, but my vision of what could have happened up there had suddenly shifted. This was no accident. Patrick had been murdered.
Chapter 5
Satellites and early warning systems give us time to prepare for many natural disasters. Other crises, like earthquakes or terrorist attacks, might occur at any moment. Your safety may hinge on the planning you do ahead of time. For example, you may have a great emergency kit at home, but what about in your car? You’ll need emergency supplies there too. Some of the most important things to include are clothing and shoes that will protect you from the weather if you need to walk an extended distance for help.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Sunday, August 6, Afternoon
Teddy continued, “Did the guy have any other problems, like a busted ankle or a messed-up knee? Some reason to have fallen on his own?” Teddy pressed his case without giving anyone a chance to answer. “Have you ever known Dad not to suffer? I mean, complaining was kind of his thing. If he was hurt—really hurt—like, from something that could disable or kill him, he would have moaned so loudly we’d have heard it from here, right?”
Teddy was exaggerating, but it was possible we could have heard an injured Patrick from our house, especially last night, when we’d all been on edge, awake, and watchful, eyeing the fire’s progress.
Max coughed and then laughed. “I mean no disrespect, but Teddy’s right. Patrick wasn’t one to underplay an injury. Remember the landscaping day?”
One by one, the rest of us smiled, then snickered, then laughed until tears rolled down our faces. As soon as one of us began to get our emotions under control, someone else would set us off again. After what seemed hours but was probably only minutes, I was able to speak. “Max is right. Patrick dropped that landscaping rock on his foot, and I’m sure it hurt, but he bellowed until every parent who was a nurse, paramedic, or physician had weighed in on the injury. He spent the rest of the day with it propped up, ‘supervising,’ while everyone else worked.”
As memories went, it was one we’d treasure from our time with Patrick and with our children. All the parents and kids at the middle school had been asked to provide the manual labor required over two spring weekends to revamp the school’s landscaping, which had come to resemble a moonscape during California’s prolonged drought. Now, drought-tolerant native plants tough enough to withstand incursions from middle schoolers had created a welcoming, eco-friendly campus. Both weekends had been laughter-filled family events.
Teddy interru
pted with a sound of protest, but Max forestalled his comment. “You’re right, Teddy. Your dad was one of those guys who was an asset to a team. He kept us all laughing with his goofy stories, and we had a blast. Could barely move the next day, but we had a great time.”
No one spoke while we all took a moment to accept that none of us would work with Patrick again. While we’d all continue to feel his absence, Tess and Teddy were bereft and on their own. Teddy might not be ready to accept it, but he would have to, soon enough. For the first time, I realized how hard it must be for a grieving spouse to summon the energy to deal with all the practical concerns surrounding a death, cope with their own pain, and pick up the pieces when their children fell apart. The last thing that Tess needed right now was to have us camped out on her floor, along with our cats and boisterous golden retriever. The Olmos cats were nowhere to be found. I suspected they were relishing the solitude of a bedroom closet and wondered whether Tess and Teddy would soon be looking for similar comforting hidey-holes.
I tried to capture Max’s attention. We needed to come up with a new plan to wait out the firestorm. Surely we knew someplace else close enough to allow us quick access after the blaze burned itself out, but far enough away to be safe. We could find a hotel. One that would take Belle and the cats.
Jason’s voice jolted me back to the matter at hand. “Teddy, would it help if you could see the body the ranger found?” I noted that he avoided referring to Patrick by name. “To confirm your mom’s observation, or to let us know we need to look in another direction to find your dad and figure out who this guy is?”
Teddy’s gaze moved from Jason to his mom, and then to the tabletop, where he pulled at a loose thread in the fringe of a woven place mat.
“When you put it that way...” Teddy’s voice faded, but he didn’t look up. He cleared his throat and started again. “It sounds as though I don’t trust my mom to identify my dad. I know there are, like, fingerprints and DNA and stuff to be sure. But pieces of this story don’t add up. I mean, my dad? He was just an engineer who liked to run. He wasn’t the kind of guy who gets killed and burnt up. Not even by accident.”
Teddy’s voice broke. He lowered his head, swallowed hard, wiped his eyes, and started over. “I guess I have to see for myself. You know?” He raised his head, confident and with a touch of bravado, as though he expected someone to argue with him. But then his expression quavered, and doubt snuck in. “I mean...he’s not gross or scary, is he?”
Tess let out a short, quiet noise I couldn’t characterize, probably because she, like the rest of us, couldn’t believe we were sitting at her kitchen table overlooking her idyllic and serene backyard, discussing the condition of her husband’s dead body. There were no words for the horror we felt.
Jason broke in before anyone else could speak. “In my experience, Teddy, a body at the morgue looks more like a wax figure or a statue than it looks like the person you knew when he or she was alive. The outward appearance is similar, but everything that once animated the statue, everything that made it the person you loved, is no longer there. But it’s not scary.” Jason watched Teddy closely, and he must have noted that he still appeared wary and confused. “Look, have you ever walked past a neighbor’s house and been certain the family was on vacation? From the outside, the house looks the same. They’ve got lights and sprinklers on timers, and someone is taking care of their garbage and mail—but the life of the house is gone.”
Teddy nodded.
“It’s like that, I think,” Jason said. “Just the shell, with no one home. It’s no more the person you loved than, say, an eggshell is a chick after it hatches.”
I smiled despite my grief, admiring Jason’s turn of phrase, his gentle, soothing voice, and his patience with Teddy.
“I can understand that you’d want to see for yourself,” Jason said.
Teddy stopped stroking Mozart and raised his head. “Do I need to set that up? Call the medical examiner or the funeral home?”
“There’s no rush.” Jason said. “You or your mom can set it up.”
Tess’s eyes widened, and her lip quivered. Jason held out his hand. “I’m familiar with the forms. Would you like me to go over them with you when you’re ready?”
“Sure,” Tess said, but then excused herself from the table and escaped to the back of the house.
The doorbell rang. Stephen moved the curtain over the kitchen sink and peered out. “It’s Elaine,” he said. “With a hot dish and cookies, it looks like. If Tess and Teddy aren’t up to visitors, we should pull all the drapes on the front of the house. Or I can answer the door and tell people to come by in a few days.”
The seldom-used landline attached to the kitchen wall rang loudly, followed quickly by the cell Tess had left on the table and the phone in Teddy’s pocket. Word of Patrick’s death, apparently, was out.
Chapter 6
Documents to pack for an emergency:
Medical records, insurance cards, prescriptions;
property deeds and insurance policies;
passport, license, birth certificates, wills, powers of attorney.
Include a written list of phone numbers you may need (even if this information is also on your phone). Consider putting copies of all documents on a thumb drive. Digital versions of these files may speed claims processing.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Sunday, August 6, Early evening
Elaine Cumberfield lived a few houses down the street from Tess, directly across from the middle school. We’d met while I was investigating the murder of the former principal. As soon as I’d stopped suspecting Elaine, we’d become friends.
She came through to the kitchen carrying a plate of her locally famous gingerbread men. “I rang the bell instead of coming through the back, in case you weren’t up for visitors and wanted to pretend no one was home. Am I the first caller? Let me help get things set up. It will be a madhouse before you know it. How on earth does word get out so quickly?” I peeped under the aluminum foil at the cookies. Elaine was known for creating artful cookies, sometimes meant to send a message. Today I wanted to be sure Elaine hadn’t been too flippant and created images Tess and Teddy might find disrespectful.
Elaine smiled and I blushed, knowing she’d read my mind. As a retired middle school principal, she was adept at reading tiny clues to a person’s innermost thoughts. A few hundred years ago, she’d have been burned as a witch. “Just your garden-variety gingerbread men today,” she said. “What did you expect? Angels? Corpses with little x’s for eyes? Chalk outlines of dead bodies? Give me some credit, Maggie. I wouldn’t hurt Tess or Teddy for the world. How are they holding up?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure yet how I’m holding up. It’s early. I think they’re both still in shock.”
“I don’t know who started this dreadful custom of intruding on a family in their grief, but Orchard View will turn out in droves. They all adore Tess—and an unsolved mystery.” Elaine handed me a cloth grocery bag that was heavier than I’d anticipated. “I stopped by Safeway and picked up some decaf and juice. Can you brew the mocha java and mix up the lemonade? Make sure she’s got plenty of ice.”
I dropped the bag on the floor next to the fridge and helped Elaine move the table to create a buffet. She rummaged in a cabinet for a tablecloth while I marshaled the troops.
“Teddy, pull out whatever soda, beer, and bottled water you have in the kitchen or the garage.” Action was supposed to be effective for dealing with grief. We’d have to see. “Do you have a tub or a cooler your mom uses for parties? David and Brian, help him get soft drinks on ice on the patio. Beer stays inside so the teens don’t help themselves.”
David and Brian sighed in an overly dramatic manner and rolled their eyes.
“Other teens,” I said. “Not you or Teddy or any of your friend
s. Other teens. Teens I don’t know and you don’t know. Keeping an eye on the intoxicating beverages is the responsible thing to do. Providing underage people with alcohol is a crime. Do you want your mom to get arrested?” My kids weren’t the only drama queens in the family. They rolled their eyes again and got to work. If eye rolling was an aerobic activity, no high school on the planet would need to worry about physical education credits.
I continued issuing orders. “Max and Stephen, find serving utensils and get the buffet set up. Locate whatever pitchers or thermal carafes, cups, and glasses you can find for lemonade and coffee. Pull those dining chairs into the living room. If you see anything that needs to be tidied up or thrown in the wash, do Tess a favor and take care of it without asking. She’ll be overloaded with decisions for the next few days, and we don’t want to add to her burden. Paolo, you’re on fridge and freezer duty. See what you can consolidate or toss. Be ruthless. Clear out as much as you can. Casseroles and dinner salads will start piling up before you know it. I’ll track down masking tape and a marker, so we can label any non-disposable dishes with the owners’ names.”
Max and Stephen stared at me like students who hadn’t expected a pop quiz. I said what I thought they were thinking. “Is this kind of heavy-handed? Moving Tess’s furniture and taking over her kitchen?”
“Trust your instincts,” said Elaine. “I’m a widow. My husband died years ago, but I still remember the pain and the fog. I couldn’t have made an extra decision to save my life. Tess probably won’t notice or care what we do. And if she does, she’ll be grateful. Where is she? She’s become a member of the club no one wants to join—parents without partners, subgroup: young widows.” Elaine sighed, and without waiting for an answer regarding Tess’s whereabouts, strode confidently down the hall toward the bedrooms.
Elaine was right. I’d no sooner mixed the first batch of lemonade and poured boiling water over coffee grounds than the neighbors descended. The first few rang the doorbell, but after that they poured in, all of them bearing food. Kids gathered in the backyard. I whispered to Brian and David to call an adult if they needed any help, but I recognized most of the kids and knew they’d be supportive.
