Dooley Is Dead

by Kate Merrill

Trev and she settled back in their seats and gazed out at the black lake, where a pencil-thin reflection shimmered across the placid water, connected to a slice of melon moon. The stubby candle in the round, red glass dome had melted down into a puddle of itself, yet its flame stretched straight up from the wax like a proud soldier. Frogs chattered, and somewhere along the shore an angry blue heron squawked in alarm, but otherwise they were alone.

  When Trev took her hand, Ginny shivered in the hot, humid night. Now that this moment had arrived, after seven long years, she feared the words wouldn’t come.

  “So, what did you want to tell me?” Trev’s voice faltered.

  She took a big gulp of the night. “I need to tell you about my daughter, Lissa.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Moment of truth…

  Diana lowered more plates into the sudsy dishwater and looked out the window to the dark driveway. Damn Ginny. How could any mother break her promise like that? Ever since Matthew returned without her, Diana had feared Ginny would be a no-show. And now, as the hands on the clock inched towards ten, Lissa’s bedtime, Diana’s anger boiled over.

  She ducked her head to wipe the sweat off her chin onto her shoulder sleeve, then cursed under her breath. To top it off, the air conditioner was malfunctioning. Matthew’s ancient heat pump couldn’t keep up with the unprecedented heat wave, and since it was Friday night, the repair guys wouldn’t come until Monday. They had placed antique fans in crucial positions. They cranked, clattered, and helped a little---but in the end, the adult members of the family’s emotional thermostats quivered in the red zone.

  The welcome home dinner had gone well, considering the guest of honor was missing in action. They had eaten barbeque on the deck while they still had a breeze off the lake. Afterwards, she had put the chocolate cake in the fridge to keep the icing from melting, and then began praying Ginny would come home in time to tuck Lissa in bed.

  Damn her. Diana rinsed the last dishes and stacked them in the drainer rack. She dried her hands and listened to the frenetic romper room music coming from the living room. Matthew was playing a video game with Lissa. It involved remotes mounted in small, white plastic steering wheels and featured wacky-looking cartoon characters racing through exotic graphic landscapes---not Diana’s idea of fun. But Matthew and Lissa were laughing, so that was good.

  Matthew had not been laughing when he returned home alone. Indeed, Diana had seldom seen him so upset or depressed. He gave her the briefest of explanations, when she was hungry for details about the hearing, and then he stomped away to brood in the shower. Again, not Diana’s idea of fun. When he finally explained that Ginny had opted for a date with her old boyfriend, rather than a celebration with her family, Diana decided the girl was beyond redemption.

  She turned on the cold water spigot and filled Amazing Grace’s steel drinking bowl, set it down on the linoleum for the poor greyhound, who had been panting and cowering all evening. Ursie was holding forth in the living room at Lissa’s feet, still guarding the child---another bad situation. The dogs had not yet made peace with one another. No more fights, thank god, but Matthew’s Ursie continued to growl at Diana’s Gracie whenever the two were in close proximity. Diana chose to believe the animals’ inability to live together was not a metaphor for her relationship with Matthew. Instead, she hoped the dogs would eventually work it out when life returned to normal.

  But when would that be? She drifted out the back door to see if the humidity of the night was better than the oppression in the house. As she stood on the porch, unimpressed by the air quality, Diana saw headlights coming up the road.

  The Jeep turned in, its beams briefly blinding her before the driver cut the engine. Ginny slid out the passenger door and headed in her direction. Trevor exited slowly, remained several paces behind as they approached. A melon slice of moonlight illuminated their tense faces, and to Diana, the two looked like pale, unhappy ghosts.

  Ginny fell into her arms and gave her a tight, desperate hug. The girl smelled like sweat and fear, but Diana hugged her anyway.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rittenhouse.” Trevor’s eyes remained downcast, so she couldn’t decide if he was shy, ashamed, or both.

  “Is Lissa still awake?” Ginny gripped Diana’s hand.

  “Yes, lucky for you, she insisted on waiting up for her mommy.” Diana didn’t want to sound angry, she just couldn’t help it.

  “What about that chocolate cake?” Trevor was still unable to make eye contact. “Ginny figured you’d save a piece, or two.”

  “Forget the cake, Trev,” Ginny snapped. “We’ll talk first, then decide about the damn cake.”

  Diana extracted herself and held the door open. As the couple passed into the house, tension shimmered off their bodies like shock waves. The electrical disturbance tingled against Diana’s skin and lifted the soft hairs on her arms. Not good. Had they been fighting, or was the static caused by something far more elemental? They were together, yet apart, and when Trevor finally glanced at Diana through his troubled blue eyes and offered a jerky smile, she sensed his fear. Whatever had happened between them had cast this tough war veteran into a state of sheer panic.

  Even Gracie felt their vibes. She whined, tucked her tail between her legs, and tried to hide under the kitchen table when the strangers entered.

  “What’s with the dog?” Ginny asked.

  Diana realized Ginny had been in prison when Gracie arrived at the house, so they’d never met. “She’s my dog, and it’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

  “It’s mighty hot in here.” Trevor mopped his forehead with his hand.

  As Diana explained that the air conditioner was on the blink, Lissa flew into the room.

  “Is Mommy home?” she squealed.

  Ginny dropped to her knees and gathered her daughter into her embrace, while Trevor froze like a marble statue.

  “I’m home, honey. Lord, I missed you so much!” Ginny’s tears flowed freely into Lissa’s curly red hair.

  “It’s about time.” Matthew hovered in the crowded entry like a storm cloud. He frowned disapprovingly at Trevor. “But at least you brought her home.”

  “Yes, sir.” Trevor gulped, finally thawing from marble to mobile as he shifted nervously foot to foot.

  “Let’s all move to the living room.” Ginny kept tight hold of Lissa’s hand. “Time for a family conference.”

  Diana’s heart seized up. The tone of Ginny’s pronouncement set blood charging through her arteries, spreading dread through her veins to the extremities of her toes and fingertips. She sensed that whatever they were about to hear would be life-changing. It could be anything from a sudden announcement of wedding plans, to confessions of murder, or something Diana had suspected all along--- had she bothered to listen to that erratic heart of hers.

  But she held her peace, because this was Ginny’s show, god help her. Diana followed quietly and sat in her favorite armchair as Matthew settled into his recliner. Ginny and Trevor chose opposite ends of the sofa, with Lissa between them. It was a moment of truth, and one look at Matthew told her he knew it, too. His tanned face had taken on the same sickly pallor as his male counterpart on the sofa. His mouth had compressed to a thin, grim line.

  Diana listened to the ticking of the grandfather clock, which was disturbingly much slower than the rhythm of blood pulsing in her ears, and absurdly, she found herself imagining a scene from the Tom Dooley legend---an idyllic interlude with Tom’s pregnant Laura riding horseback through a peaceful mountain forest---before all the violence.

  “I remember you.” Lissa pointed at Trevor. “You came to visit Mommy on my birthday. I asked you to watch me ride my new bike, but you got in your car and drove away.”

  Lissa’s high, piping voice brought Diana back to reality. She braced herself.

  “That’s right, Punkin.” Ginny hugged her daughter close. “This man is Trevor Dula, and he was a dear friend of mine before you were born.”

  “Really?” Lissa reached out an
d grabbed one of Trevor’s fingers. “Can you eat some cake with us tonight?”

  Trevor stared at the child, an expression of stunned disbelief on his face as he tentatively patted her hand.

  Ginny cupped Lissa’s face in her palm and forced the child to focus. “Now pay attention, Lissa. Are you listening?”

  Lissa nodded. “Yes, Mommy.”

  For a moment Ginny hesitated, glanced at Matthew and Diana, then at the ceiling seeking what---divine intervention? Finally she fixed on her daughter. “This man, Trevor, is more than my old friend, Lissa. Once upon a time, we were in love, and he is your real father.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Pillow talk…

  “I knew it all along,” Diana said as Matthew crawled in beside her.

  “No, you didn’t. If you’d known, you would’ve told me.” He reached up and turned off his bed light.

  “I wasn’t sure,” she admitted truthfully. “But I sure enough suspected.”

  Ever since that morning when she and Ginny drove into Davidson to deliver Lori’s wedding present, Diana had wondered about the bridegroom, Ginny’s ex boyfriend. Ginny had said she’d driven all the way from Las Vegas to “give him a hard time,” and even then, Diana had thought it was an extreme measure to take for some guy from the distant past.

  “But the timing was right, Matthew, do the math. When Ginny ran off almost seven years ago, she was already pregnant. She hooked up with that oilman, Charley Harkin, and they got married in Galveston. Then six, maybe seven months later, Lissa was born.”

  Matthew groaned and turned his back to her. “Give it a rest, Diana. From what Ginny told us, her husband was a drunken roughneck, but she never said he was a fool. He could do the math, too, so he had to know Lissa was another man’s child.”

  “Yes, but maybe Charley didn’t care? Ginny was a good looking young woman, a real catch. He accepted Lissa because he wanted Ginny.”

  “Or maybe he abused Ginny because he resented Lissa.” Matthew pulled his part of the sheet around his shoulders, encasing himself in a cocoon. “Turn off your light and go to sleep. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Diana was losing him. This was not her idea of pillow talk, so she stared at the ceiling and began counting acoustic tiles. Okay, she got it. Matthew felt desperately guilty about what he termed “driving Ginny away,” so it went without saying this latest twist, driving a pregnant Ginny away, was almost intolerable. She could only imagine his pain and longed to comfort him.

  “Well, I think Lissa took the news pretty well, don’t you?” She reached down and touched Matthew’s mummy-wrapped hand. No response.

  In fact, Ginny had done a credible job selling a new “real” daddy to Lissa. Naturally the child was confused, and Ginny’s metaphors were somewhat convoluted. She had compared her love for Trevor to Lissa’s love for her very first toy---a raggedy monkey, then compared her love for Charley to Lissa’s love for a later toy---a Barbie doll. Ginny reminded her daughter it was okay to love both toys, and that both toys loved Lissa. Or some such thing. But it was brilliant, because it worked.

  Matthew mumbled. “I’m not sure Trevor appreciated being compared to a ratty old monkey.”

  Diana was relieved he was listening. “I know, did you see Trevor’s face?”

  “I think he was in shock,” Matthew chuckled from his shroud.

  “But he managed it well.” Clearly Trevor had been handed the surprise of his young life, and although he remained tongue-tied through much of his brief introduction to his daughter, he’d cracked a couple of jokes and put Lissa at ease. “Did you notice how Lissa was watching him? She’s really curious.”

  Matthew turned onto his back, glanced at Diana. “Lissa laughed when Trevor dropped his cake onto his lap, but it will never work out for the three of them, and you know it.”

  She watched his eyes shifting and realized Matthew wanted a response---confirm, or deny. But Diana had no idea. Just because Trevor loved Ginny once did not imply he’d love her again. Indeed, she believed it would be a very long time before Trevor got over Lori, and if that ever happened, likely Ginny would be long gone, home to Nevada.

  “Well, Trevor did agree to visit again today. Ginny and Lissa are taking him on a boat ride, then a picnic.”

  “That’s a mistake,” Matthew grumbled. “In the end, Lissa will get hurt. I’m glad I won’t be around to watch them today.”

  Diana counted more tiles and listened to a motorboat speed by the dock in the dark. Its drunken passengers were laughing and shouting, and as their waves crashed ashore, she wondered if Matthew was right. For Lissa, Trevor could easily become more than a shiny new toy. He was, after all, her father.

  “I won’t be here either,” Diana said. She had to put in an appearance at the office, so when Liz returned sometime that weekend, she could pretend she’d done some work. “But who cares if we’re here? Ginny and Trevor don’t need a chaperone.”

  “They should’ve had a chaperone seven years ago.” Matthew rolled out of his sheet and vigorously kicked it to the foot of the bed. “And they should not be seen together now.”

  Diana understood guilt, but she didn’t understand his anger. It burned through his skin and shimmered between them. “What’s your problem?” she demanded. When he faced her, she saw both wrath and desperation.

  “Remember when I told you Ginny had a secret, that she was hiding something?”

  “Sure, I remember.” His intensity frightened her.

  “Turns out Lissa is Ginny’s dark little secret---the fact that Trevor is her father.” Matthew pulled upright. “Ginny’s lawyer implied the cops had more evidence against her, and this is it.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  Matthew picked up his extra pillow, tossed it up in the air, and punched it across the room. “Seems like Ginny’s a pretty good liar, don’t you agree? She travels halfway across the country because her old boyfriend’s getting married, brings their lovechild along for leverage to change his mind, and then confronts his fiancée, who winds up dead.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  He flopped down on his back beside her, took her hand, and helped her stare at the ceiling. “I’m saying now the cops have a motive for murder.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Back at square one…

  By the time Diana woke up, Matthew had already left for work. By the time she showered and dressed for the office, Ginny and Lissa had finished breakfast and were frantically preparing for Trevor’s visit.

  “Are you okay, Diana?” Ginny was slicing hoagie rolls for a picnic. “Looks like you could use some more sleep, or maybe you got up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  “Do I look that bad?” Fact was, Matthew had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. They’d argued late into the night about Ginny, Trevor, the evidence---you name it. Diana found herself projecting an optimism she did not feel in order to balance Matthew’s premonitions of doom. Granted, Ginny was his daughter, so perhaps he was entitled to be judgmental about the choices she had made. But Diana resented being cast in the role of Pollyanna, so bitter words had passed between them.

  “Daddy’s pissed, isn’t he?” Ginny slathered the rolls with mayonnaise and stuffed them with ham and cheese. “It’s about Trev, isn’t it? Dad hates me for getting pregnant and splitting.”

  “No, it’s more than that. Where’s Lissa, by the way?” Diana felt compelled to clear the air, but not in front of the child.

  Ginny laughed. “She’s changing her outfit for the third time. She wants to look extra pretty for her new daddy.”

  Diana grunted. Like Matthew, she was unsure how much Lissa should be encouraged to bond with a father here today, gone tomorrow. If Lissa came to love the man, then got dragged back to Nevada, her emotions would spin like a yo-yo.

  “Lissa couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Ginny merrily continued. “She was already on a sugar high from the cake and she couldn’t stop asking questions.”

  “We
ll, who can blame her? It’s a lot to lay on the kid.” Diana knew she was grumpy because she hadn’t fallen asleep until just before dawn, then woke up alone with a splitting headache. As she watched Ginny place pickles and peppers on the sandwiches, her stomach did flip-flops.

  Ginny frowned and looked up from her task. “Don’t start in on me, Diana. Let me worry about Lissa, and I promise I won’t let her get hurt. You know Dad will read me the riot act when he gets home, so I need you on my team.”

  Diana poured herself a cup of hundred- proof caffeine from the bottom of the coffee pot. “Matthew is worried about you. He’s afraid your relationship with Trevor, the fact he fathered your child, will work against you in court. He thinks it’ll give the prosecutor a motive, and they’ll try to make a case against you based on jealousy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Geek, my lawyer, says the same thing. Do you know that asshole, Lieutenant Sokolsky, searched my records back in Galveston? He dug up Lissa’s birth certificate and saw I named Trev as the father.”

  “Stop right there.” Diana was incredulous. “You actually named Trevor?”

  Ginny shrugged dismissively. “Sure, why not? My loser husband didn’t give a shit. I knew I’d tell Lissa the truth someday, because I didn’t want her going through life thinking Charley Harkin was her daddy.”

  Diana took a long gulp of coffee and held her tongue until the caffeine hit her bloodstream. At some level she understood Ginny’s reasoning, but it seemed a bitter irony that the mother’s good intentions had come back to bite her on the butt.

  “And you know what else?” Suddenly Ginny’s expression took on a dreamy aspect. “You should’ve seen Trev when I told him. At first he was in shock, but soon he started to cry, he was so happy.”

  Diana took another sip and waited.

  “In fact, he confided in me.” Ginny glanced towards her bedroom to be sure Lissa had not yet emerged. “Would you believe Lori was pregnant?”