I’d brought The Cat in the Hat for Davey, and he opened the book eagerly. He can’t read yet, but he’s heard most of his favorite rhymes so often that he knows them by heart. Tuning the pages as he says them aloud, gives him the illusion being very grown up.
After the chilly reception, I was prepared to be kept waiting. To my surprise, Louis came out personally only a few moments later. I introduced him to Davey and they shook hands solemnly. After instructing the receptionist to keep an eye on my son, he ushered me back to his office.
It was a large room with a high ceiling, framed by antique molding. Louis waved me to a chair, then sat behind his desk. A wide expanse of polished teak separated us. The leather bound blotter was empty; the gold pen set beside it, neatly aligned. His pipe was in a holder beside the phone and the sweet aroma of his tobacco hung in the air.
Louis folded his hands and assumed a solicitous pose. “Ms. Greeley said you had Belle Haven business to discuss. I do hope nothing’s wrong.”
“Nothing new. I don’t suppose the missing checks have turned up?”
“No, I’m afraid not. It’s beginning to look like we’ll have to make the money up.”
“That’s too bad,” I murmured. Louis wasn’t the only one who could make concerned noises. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about Monica Freedman?”
“Not at all. From what I hear around town, the police investigation is all but stalled. It’s in the club’s best interests to have Monica’s killer found and brought to justice. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
It was an impressive speech. Convincing, too. I wondered if his firm handled litigation. No doubt Louis would be great in front of a jury.
“Were you aware that Monica was practicing a kind of emotional extortion on a number of the club members?”
“No,” Louis said, frowning. “This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing. Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. So you never received any extra notes from her, maybe something that was included with your club newsletter?”
“Not that I saw. My wife usually opens the mail, but I’m sure she’d have mentioned something like that:”
“Speaking of your wife,” I said slowly. “She and Bertie were observed arguing loudly after the February meeting. Do you know what that was about?”
Louis’s brow creased. “Sharon and Bertie, arguing? I can’t imagine what they would have to disagree about at all, much less loudly enough to make a scene.”
“Maybe about the fact that Bertie is a very beautiful younger woman ... ?” I let the thought dangle. “A woman who’s a little more affectionate than she needs to be with some of the male club members?”
“Is she?”
Surely that didn’t come as a surprise to him. “I saw her after the meeting last month. You and she seemed very friendly.”
“That’s just Bertie’s way,” said Louis. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then you and she aren’t involved?”
“Involved in what way ... ?” His voice trailed off as he realized what I was asking. “Certainly not! The very idea is preposterous!”
“Is it?”
“It most certainly is. Not that Bertie isn’t an attractive woman. But a man in my position weighs his priorities. The last thing I need is a complication like that.”
“Because you’ve applied to judge, you mean?”
“That’s part of it. I also have a position in the community, not to mention a lovely wife.”
Ah yes, the lovely wife. The one who’d been seen arguing with the beautiful complication in the bar.
One thing about lawyers, they could defend either side of an argument with equal fervor. Prosecution or defense, it all depended who was paying. Or where their loyalties lay.
I left Louis’s office a few minutes later, feeling distinctly unsatisfied. The only thing I knew for sure was that Monica Freedman had had too many enemies. And that I wasn’t a whole lot closer to figuring out who’d killed her than I’d been before.
Twenty-six
After leaving the law office, Davey and I drove down to Bruce Park and ate lunch outside at a picnic table. The weather was sunny and pleasantly warm for April. Buds were beginning to appear on the trees, and even though it was a weekday afternoon, the tennis courts were full. I’d packed peanut butter and jelly—my son’s perennial favorite—and Davey scarfed down two sandwiches before even coming up for air.
“So,” I said, leaning back and tilting my face up to the warmth of the sun. “Is it fun having your Dad around?”
“Yeah, sure.” Davey folded his napkin into a paper airplane and sent it sailing off into the bushes.
“I guess it’s going to be hard for you when he goes back.”
“Why can’t he stay here?”
“Because his job, and the rest of his life are in Texas now. That’s where he belongs.” I waited as Davey scooted off the bench, retrieved his plane and sailed it, looping, over the table. “What if you could go to Texas sometime and stay with him. Would you like that?”
Davey squinched up his face, thinking hard. “On an airplane?”
I nodded.
“Would you come, too?”
“Probably not. Just as your Daddy’s life is there, mine is here. But we both love you very much, so we both want to spend as much time with you as we can.”
“Then Daddy should move back to Connecticut,” Davey said firmly.
“I don’t think he can do that.”
“If he wanted to, he could. Grown-ups can do anything.”
The implacable logic of a five-year-old. I beckoned him to me and gave him a hug. His hands were dirty, but his hair smelled like sunshine. I buried my face in his neck and blew out a stream of cold air. Davey squirmed away, giggling with delight.
“I’ll tell you what this grown-up wants to do,” I said. “This grown-up wants to go catch that Good Humor truck. What do you think?”
“Yea!” cried Davey. “Beat you there!”
We didn’t solve the world’s problems that afternoon; or even, as it happened, our own. But we did sit in the sun, giggle a lot, and eat toasted almond bars. It seemed like a good deal to me.
I called Aunt Peg when we got home and told her about my visit to Louis’s office. “Do you think he was lying?” she asked when I was done.
“He was very convincing,” I said, hedging.
“He’s a lawyer. He’s paid to be convincing.”
“He did admit he thought that Bertie was a beautiful woman, but said she’d be too much of a complication.”
“Oh pish!” Aunt Peg snorted indelicately. “Where beautiful women are concerned, men have been dealing with complications for generations. And if he’d lie to us about Bertie, do you suppose that means he’d lie about the dinner checks, as well? He was the last person to see them.”
“I know, but what could he possibly have had to gain by taking them?”
“What would anyone have had to gain?”
She had me there. I hate it when Aunt Peg has more questions than I have answers, and it happens all the time.
“I’ve got to go,” I said. “Sam’s coming to dinner.”
“It’s about time.”
I knew I shouldn’t, but I had to ask. Like the impulse that makes you poke a sore tooth with your tongue.
“What is?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It’s shameful the way you’ve been neglecting Sam since that ex-husband of yours arrived on the scene.”
Me neglecting Sam? I thought I could make just as good a case in the other direction. Tonight, hopefully, we’d both have a chance to rectify that. It was time to reaffirm what we both knew inside—that our relationship was solid enough to weather a few bumps.
Even major ones, like an ex-husband who’d all but taken up residence in my house.
With daylight saving time newly in effect, it was still light outside when Sam pulled into the driveway just after six o’clock. I had chicken marinati
ng on the counter and wine chilling in the refrigerator. While Davey and Faith waylaid our guest by the front door, I slipped into the powder room, combed my hair and put on some lipstick.
“Wow,” said Sam, holding open his arms.
I’m probably several years and a skein of stretch marks past my last legitimate wow, but I was too pleased to argue. “Nice to see you, too,” I murmured, cuddling in close.
“Hey Sam!” said Davey, wedging his small body between us. “Want to play Nintendo with me? I’ve got a whole bunch of new games.”
“Maybe later.” Sam released me and we both gave ground. “First I want to spend some time with your mom.”
“All right,” Davey conceded ungraciously. “I guess that means I have to play with Faith.” Boy and puppy ran back to the living room.
Sam helped himself to a beer and opened one for me. “He hasn’t actually taught that puppy how to play Nintendo, has he?”
“Not yet.” I grinned. “But it’s probably only a matter of time. You know what Aunt Peg says, Poodles can learn to do anything.”
“I’m a Poodle fan myself, but somehow I think this is one learning curve they won’t surmount.”
“Probably only because they don’t see the point of moving a blip across a screen.”
Sam pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “Where’d all the new games come from?”
“Bob. Where else? His theory of child-raising seems to be, when in doubt, spend money.”
“Not a particularly healthy attitude.”
“In the short run, Davey’s fine with it. A few new toys won’t change his values. And in the long run ...” I looked at him and smiled, “I’d rather not ruin a great evening by talking about it.”
“Fine by me.”
Sam reached out a hand and pulled me down onto his lap. His legs were hard with muscle. I wiggled just enough to make him grin, then braced a hand on his shirt and felt the warm skin underneath. Sam’s breath smelled like beer and his kiss tasted like heaven.
Two weeks apart had definitely been too long.
His fingers slipped inside my sweater, then up the bare skin of my back. “No bra. You must be one of those wicked women I’ve heard about.”
“I hope so. Later, you can find out for yourself.”
“No time like the present.” Sam grasped the hem of the sweater and raised it, lowering his mouth to my breast. My back arched and I gasped aloud.
In the living room, Faith began to bark. Dimly I was aware of the front door opening.
“Hey!” Bob yelled cheerfully. “What’s for dinner?”
Sam raised his head and lowered my sweater. “That isn’t ... ?”
Heaven disappeared in an instant. I dropped back down to earth with a thud. “It is.”
“You invited him, too?”
“Of course not.” Hurriedly, I stood and rearranged my clothes. “He must have invited himself.”
“Does he do that often?”
“You’d be surprised,” I grumbled, heading out to see my new guest. “Hi Bob. We’re having chicken. Sorry you can’t stay.” Pointedly I opened the door he’d just shut behind him.
“No problem.” Bob moved past me and into the living room. He took the Nintendo controller Davey held out to him and sat down on the couch. “I like chicken.”
“I’m very happy for you. But you can’t stay.”
“Mommy, please?” Davey turned an imploring gaze upward. And why not? Now he had someone to play with, too.
“Another time. Tomorrow. No, that’s the Belle Haven meeting. Wednesday? Perfect. Okay, guys?”
I felt, rather than saw, Sam come up behind me. He stood in the doorway and looked at Bob, who was leaning forward in his seat, grinning like a fool as he vanquished a small ape with a barrel. Expression intentionally bland, Sam cocked a brow in my direction.
“I was very young,” I muttered unhappily. “So sue me.”
“Sue who?” asked Bob. “Do I know her?” He turned to look and his monkey fell off a cliff. “Damn!”
“Daddy!” Davey cried.
“Sorry, darn.” His gaze slid back to Sam. “Who the hell are you?”
“Daddy!”
“Sam Driver.” He held out a hand. “You must be Bob.”
“I must be.” Bob stood and the two of them sized each other up with all the intensity of ten-year-olds about to butt heads over a football. “You’re the one I’ve been hearing about.”
“I am?”
Bob nodded. “Davey talks about you all the time.”
“That’s good.” Sam looked pleased.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Bob looked less pleased. “What’s your relationship with my son?”
Davey gave a frustrated squeal as his monkey got eaten by a bee. “Your turn, Daddy.”
“Not now, Davey.”
“We’re good friends,” said Sam. He looked past Bob and smiled at Davey. “Aren’t we?”
My son returned his smile. “The best.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Bob asked me.
“Perfectly. I’m also sure that it’s none of your business.”
“Daddy, it’s your turn. I can’t play again until you go.”
“Honey, play with Faith for a minute, okay?” I took both men by the arm and led them out to the kitchen. “If we’re going to fight, I’d just as soon we do it out here. Davey doesn’t have to hear this.”
“Fight?” Bob said innocently. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Good.” I spun on my heel and headed toward the front door. “Then you can go back to your hotel.”
“Wait,” said Sam. “I think he should stay. It’s probably a good idea for us to have a chance to get to know one another.”
What was the matter with him? Was he nuts?
“Stop talking around me,” said Bob. “Don’t I get any say in the matter?”
“Why not?” I snapped. Everybody else was having one.
“Good. Then I’ll stay.” He went to the refrigerator and took out a beer. “Got any chips?”
I threw up my hands. They were both crazy. “Cabinet over the dishwasher. Help yourself.”
I’d thought childbirth seemed endless, but that evening set new records. Sam and Bob spent the first hour scoping each other out, and the second engaged in a subtle duel of one-upmanship. By the beginning of the third hour, I was ready to throw them both out.
I know women who think it’s flattering to have two men battle for their attention. Not me. I ended up feeling like a pawn being manipulated on the game board of male supremacy. And of course, both men were feeling too macho to help me cook, much less clean up afterward.
Davey didn’t fare much better. I’m sure he wondered why questions directed at Sam were often usurped by his father, and vice versa. Being the center of that much attention is wearing on a five-year-old. And while most of the tension seemed to go over his head, there were times when he did look torn between Sam and Bob, and more than a little confused.
By the time dinner was over, however, my son had obviously figured out how to work the situation to his advantage. He suggested a game of hide-and-seek, and grinned with delight when both men suddenly avowed an abiding love for the game. At least that was something I could encourage wholeheartedly, especially as it got them all out of my hair for a while.
I finished doing the dishes and sat down in the living room with a second cup of coffee. Faith was lying on the floor, eating the toe out of an old slipper. Aunt Peg would have frowned mightily at the sight, and with good reason. If the puppy ate my new slippers, I’d have no one but myself to blame. But Faith was having so much fun, I didn’t have the heart to play the disciplinarian.
Sam came sauntering in.
“Game over?” I asked.
“No, I’m supposed to be counting to one hundred while they hide.”
“Davey almost always goes to the same places. Want a clue?”
“What? And ruin the suspense?” He went to the doorway and had a listen up
the stairs, then came over and sat down. “Bob doesn’t seem too bad.”
“My thoughts exactly, the first evening I met him.”
“He tries very hard with Davey.”
“He has to,” I said, feeling exasperated. “Fatherhood doesn’t seem to come naturally.”
“Maybe you’re being too tough on him.”
“Maybe you’re in no position to judge.”
This was going well.
The last thing I’d wanted to do that evening with Sam was argue. Of course it was beginning to look like all the good ideas I’d had in mind were out of the question.
“Ready!” yelled Davey. “Come and find us!”
Sam rose. He glanced down at Faith. “You know you shouldn’t let her chew on a slipper like that.”
“I know,” I said complacently.
He shrugged and headed upstairs.
Bob and Sam left within a few minutes of each other after I put Davey to bed. Despite my pointed hints, Bob had been determined to hang around as long as Sam remained; and there was definitely something distracting about an ex-husband hovering in the background. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who cheered when the evening was finally over.
I went upstairs and checked on Davey. He was sleeping soundly, his arm curved around Faith who was resting her head on his pillow. She saw me, thumped her tail up and down a few times, then went back to sleep.
Mothers should have it so easy.
Twenty-seven
After a disastrous evening like that, I spent the next day making things up to my son. Joey Brickman came over and I took both boys to an early afternoon movie. It felt liberating to be out running around town during the week. Of course, the only reason we were doing so was because we’d been too broke to go away during the school vacation like everyone else.
That evening, I had Joanie, the neighborhood babysitter coming to watch Davey, while I went to the Belle Haven Kennel Club meeting. I’d also arranged to meet Aunt Peg there. That was a big plus, because it meant I could cut out early if things got too boring.
I arrived a few minutes late, but didn’t hurry inside. Instead, I walked down to the end of the row, to the spot where Monica’s van had been parked two and a half weeks earlier. Then it had been dark; now it was light enough to see the area clearly. For a moment, I simply stood, scuffing the toe of my shoe back and forth over some loose gravel.
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