Back Against the Wall

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Afraid not,” he said, also smiling, if crookedly. “I promise I won’t go anywhere else when—” if “—the time comes. Today’s business.”

  “Something for me to look at?”

  “Yep.” Tony pulled the sandwich bag from his pocket and set it on the glass counter.

  It happened that the store’s diamond jewelry was displayed in the case right beneath. He saw immediately that the pendant and earrings were as fine, or finer, than anything Thurman’s Jewelry had for sale.

  “Ah,” Thurman murmured. He produced a small, soft cloth, on which he shook out the pieces. “What do you need to know?”

  “Well, first, are those diamonds? And a rough value, if you can give me that.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time the jeweler had provided this service, which he never charged for. He considered helping the police to be his civic duty, he had insisted, the first time Tony had come in.

  Where Tony had felt clumsy picking up anything as delicate as these pieces, Thurman’s touch was deft. He chose the pendant first, turning it over and peering through the loupe.

  “The setting is platinum, as I suspected.” He flipped the pendant over, studying the stone at length through the monocular loupe which, he had once explained to Tony, offered a 10x magnification.

  “It’s the standard for grading diamond clarity,” he had said absently.

  Now, he made humming noises as he set aside the pendant and peered intently at each earring. At last, he put them on the cloth and looked at Tony. “If you want a thorough appraisal, I have a fellow who stops by on a regular schedule. He’ll be here next week—”

  “That’s not necessary. Yet,” he amended. “The, er, owner will likely need that eventually. As I said, a rough idea of quality and value is all I need for my purposes.”

  “These are very fine, as I imagine you’ve guessed. We grade diamonds by color, cut and clarity, as well as size. These are remarkably colorless—which is positive, for a diamond.”

  Which meant nothing to Tony, but he nodded.

  “Clarity, also excellent, although I thought I saw a tiny inclusion in this diamond.” He nudged it with his finger. “Round cut.” He paused. “I believe the earrings are two carats each, the pendant three carats. The earrings alone would sell in a retail store for a minimum of ten thousand dollars, perhaps significantly higher. The pendant, perhaps the same. And those are conservative estimates.”

  Tony came close to gaping. Christine Marshall’s lover—and Tony had no doubt she’d had one—had spent upwards of twenty thousand dollars on some pretty jewelry for her? What was she supposed to do with them, when she couldn’t wear them around her husband? Or had she slipped them out of the house and put them on before she got to work, like a middle-school girl wearing clothes her mother wouldn’t allow? Well, Christine had certainly worn them when she was with her lover.

  “Thank you,” he said, tucking his shock out of sight.

  “Let me put these in boxes to protect them.” The jeweler disappeared in back and returned with two black velvet boxes. He gently stowed the pendant and earrings, hesitated, then put both boxes into the sandwich bag and handed it over. “Tell the owner we charge ninety dollars for a full appraisal, which is fairly standard. I might be interested in buying these myself, should he or she decide to sell.”

  “I’ll pass that on,” Tony agreed. “For the moment, these are evidence in a criminal investigation.”

  “So I assumed.”

  “Any chance you sold these yourself? It might have been ten to fifteen years back.”

  “No, I’d recognize these pieces. I carry comparable quality now, but less so that long ago. You might try jewelers in Walla Walla. Although the odds of them remembering...” He shrugged.

  He didn’t have to say that the pendant and earrings could as well have been purchased in Seattle, Spokane or online.

  Thanking him again, Tony tucked the jewelry into a pocket of his pants, buttoned it carefully, then walked out to his car. Straight to the station next, he decided; he didn’t want to be responsible for pricey diamonds any longer than he had to be.

  During the short drive, he thought about Christine. If she’d been in love with another man, why hadn’t she left her husband? Because of the kids? Or because the lover had had his own impediment—say, a wife? If he had been married, he’d have to have been plenty wealthy to drop that kind of money on another woman without his wife noticing.

  When Tony was a kid, growing up in this eastern Washington town, not many people had much money at all. The wheat farmers, who lived out of town, were about it. He’d had a few friends whose parents or grandparents took the whole family to Hawaii at Christmas or Disneyland for spring break. By the time he graduated from high school, the wheat farmers were either selling their land to be planted in wine grapes or planting those vines themselves. Huge, ostentatious houses sprouted atop ridges, while downtown businesses retreated to side streets, leaving the picturesque main street to boutiques, tasting rooms and restaurants, all geared to tourists. Handsome old homes were turned into bed and breakfast inns.

  Drawn by the mystique of high-end wines, some residents and probably most visitors apparently had money in a way he didn’t and never would. His mind turned to the woman he shouldn’t have kissed. He didn’t even wonder whether Beth hungered for money or the things it could buy; this was a woman who’d chosen to work with the elderly and their anxious families. Salaries in social services tended to be modest.

  Matt, now, he had a streak of ambition, if Tony read him right.

  This might be a good time to catch him. Would his sister have already called him? It would be interesting to find out.

  * * *

  MATT HADN’T BEEN enthusiastic when Tony called and asked to speak to him, but he’d agreed, suggesting a bench in the shade near the duck pond on the Wakefield campus. Tony offered to bring iced coffee, which required a small detour.

  Beth’s brother was there ahead of him, probably from eagerness to prevent his boss from seeing him interviewed by a cop again.

  “This isn’t as iced as it was,” Tony said, handing over Matt Marshall’s drink of choice.

  “Thanks. It’ll be good, anyway. It’s damned hot today.”

  Summer around here was hot every day.

  Tony sat a couple feet from the other man, took a long swallow of his blessedly cold and caffeinated drink and looked at the few ducks swimming desultorily in circles. None even bothered scrambling out of the water in hopes of crumbs.

  Tony decided to get right to the point. “I’ve found evidence to suggest that your mother had an affair.”

  Matt snorted. “Like we didn’t all know that.”

  All? “You’re saying Emily and Beth knew, too?”

  Matt pressed the chilled cup to his forehead and closed his eyes. “Emily... I don’t know. Beth did. She asked me something once that made me sure.”

  The feeling of betrayal dismayed Tony. She’d described them as adversaries. Had he really let himself trust her to this extent? All he knew was that an uncomfortable lump seemed to be wedged in his chest.

  “Your father?” he asked.

  “Oh, Dad.” The laugh was as much a sneer as anything. “He could have walked in on her naked in bed with the guy, and all he’d have done was look puzzled and say, ‘Have I met your friend?’”

  “You don’t think he’d have cared.”

  Matt shifted, straightening his legs, then tucking his feet beneath the bench. Even so, his shoulders looked stiff when he said finally, “He’d have cared. It’s just that he wouldn’t notice any clues more subtle than seeing his wife with her legs spread for another man. A strange cologne on his sheets? I doubt he’d even ask. Mom flustered and rosy-cheeked and stinking of sex while asking solicitously about Dad’s day so he wouldn’t notice the sound of the back door closing?” Tendons stood o
ut in Matt’s hand and forearms. “Why would she bother? She could have introduced her bed buddy and said brightly, ‘Look who stopped by.’ Dad wouldn’t have thought a thing about it.”

  Had he pulled that scenario out of a hat? Tony didn’t think so. He asked, “Did she introduce her lover to you?”

  Matt scowled. “No! What makes you think that?”

  “But I get the feeling you do know who he was.”

  “No.” He set his coffee on the bench beside him and bent forward, elbows on his knees, hands yanking at his hair. “If I’d known... God. What could I have done?”

  Clearly, he had felt helpless and angry, a volcano ready to blow. Was the anger directed more at his mother—or at the man tearing apart Matt’s family?

  “Has Beth called you today?” Tony asked abruptly.

  “Beth?” Matt turned his head enough to look at Tony. “No. Why would she?”

  “She and I have been going through the boxes of your mother’s things that were packed away in the garage.”

  Matt straightened, his hair now wildly disheveled. “You mean her clothes?”

  “And other things.” He told Beth’s brother about the diamond jewelry and the drawing.

  Both shock and revulsion in his blue eyes, Matt stuttered, “Mom...naked?”

  “Yes. It’s...clearly erotic in intent.”

  He shook his head, not in disbelief so much as shock, if Tony was any judge. “You think my father found it.”

  “That’s one possibility.”

  “Jesus. I always thought—”

  “What?”

  “—that he did walk in on them. Even so... Damn.” He ran a shaky hand over his face. “It’s hard to picture him...” Once again, he trailed off.

  “Killing?”

  “Well...on purpose.”

  Tony swallowed some coffee. The head wound could conceivably have resulted from an accident of some sort. They’d wrestled and she’d fallen, striking her head on a corner of the dresser. Except the dent looked more rounded than that. A baseball bat, maybe a heavy-duty flashlight, seemed like better guesses.

  “You all but accused your father of killing her, the last time we talked,” he said.

  Matt hunched into himself, a little like his sister did too often. “I didn’t mean it, not really. Dad’s...well, you’ve gotten an idea what he’s like.”

  Tony nodded.

  “I’ve been angry at him as long as I can remember. I needed a father. Instead, it was like having a ghost drifting around the house, vaguely surprised when the living people noticed his presence. When I figured out that Mom was screwing around on him, I got even madder. At her, but mostly at him. It was his fault. Why would she stick around? And then this was going on right underneath his nose, and he either didn’t notice or pretended not to because that would ruffle his existence. I wanted him to hurt.” Rage shook his voice. “To feel something.” He swore again, and let his head fall back. “I thought I’d gotten over this crap. Ashley keeps telling me—” He applied the brakes so hard, he all but skidded, taking a wary, sidelong look at Tony.

  “Telling you?” he asked mildly.

  Matt let out a long sigh. “She points out that he could have been a lot worse. He didn’t use his fists, he didn’t belittle us. He’s a gentle man who connects poorly to other people.”

  Ashley’s words, Tony assumed.

  “We’re...about to start a family. I know I should get past this, before I become a father.”

  Tony surprised himself by saying, “You have a good start. You know what he didn’t give you that you needed.”

  “Uh...yeah?”

  “You might make a list someday. What qualities of his do you want to own? Which ones don’t you?”

  “None.” He gave his hair another tug. “Of course that’s not true. I’m a reader, like he is. I’ve chosen to work in academia. He did faithfully bring home a paycheck, and, as Beth poked me with the other day, he paid my way through college.” He frowned, possibly in thought. “I don’t see Dad cheating on Mom.”

  “All positives.”

  “Shit.”

  Tony gave him a moment to brood, then asked, “If you never saw the man, how did you know your mother was having an affair?”

  Matt described a series of small things that an adult male would have recognized sooner than he had at seventeen. Coming home unexpectedly, to have his mother pop out of her bedroom and head him off was one. She’d barred him from opening her bedroom door once, after he’d been sure he heard a man’s voice in there and became suspicious. Low-voiced phone conversations with too many smiles and giggles. Lies about where she’d been and what she’d done. A new, more youthful hairstyle, a lot heavier makeup than she’d been accustomed to wear. Hang-ups when Matt answered the phone after getting home from school earlier than usual.

  “Did you ever ask her outright?”

  “I did the day I heard the voice in the bedroom, and she refused to let me look so I could know no one was in there. She got all outraged, but it felt like cover to me.”

  “Did you hang around to see who came out?”

  He shook his head. “I’d come home during lunch period because I’d forgotten to bring my clean PE clothes. I couldn’t stay.”

  “Ah. Did you ever search to see if you could find proof?”

  “You mean, dig through her drawers or something?” Matt looked surprised. “What would I have looked for? Like, condoms? But how would I know she and Dad weren’t using them?”

  “You might have found the drawing,” Tony pointed out.

  Matt went still. “Where was it?”

  “In a stiff paper portfolio with some other unframed art. It was in a box that also held some framed prints that Beth thinks might have been displayed in the house at some point.”

  “I saw that box on Sunday when Beth was taking a look in it.” He sounded wooden. “Even if I’d noticed it back then, I wouldn’t have thought of looking through it. My mother’s taste in art leaned toward cute and pink.” He rose to his feet. “I did not see the drawing. I did not kill my mother. I wouldn’t—” He swallowed, as if at the taste of bile. “This is the last time we talk without my lawyer being present.”

  “Matt, my job is to explore all possibilities, however unlikely. This was...a passing thought.”

  “It’s a shitty one. And that’s all I have to say.” He turned and strode away, never looking back.

  Tony drained the rest of his coffee. It had gotten so he was more surprised by generosity than he was by utter selfishness. Had his cynicism made him unlikable? Probably. Was that how Beth saw him? But, if so, why had she responded so passionately?

  And, God, how had he lost control to the point of doing something so stupid?

  Thoughts dark, he sat unmoving longer than he should have. He roused only when his phone rang. Mamá. No doubt to remind him he’d been shirking his family duties this week.

  * * *

  TONY REAPPEARED A LITTLE after two, seeming withdrawn, even troubled, which scared Beth. He had little to say and mostly watched as she went through one box after another—although he did insist on bringing them to her and taking them away according to her direction. It would be one thing if she were as tiny as Emily—Wait. Had she really just thought that?

  Yes, and it had slid through her mind with such comfortable familiarity, Beth had to recognize what a mess she was beneath her steady facade.

  After something like an hour, she ignored the carton he’d just set at her feet.

  “Is something wrong?” More wrong?

  He turned to her with a brooding look. “I went by the jeweler’s.”

  Apprehensive, she asked, “What did they say?”

  “Top quality diamonds set in platinum. Retail value altogether, in the neighborhood of twenty thousand dollars.”

  Her mouth
fell open. “Oh, dear lord,” she finally said.

  “Not the quarter of a million dollars’ worth draped on an actress walking the red carpet for the Oscars, but a lot of money for most people around here.”

  Momentarily distracted, she blurted, “How do you know that? About the Oscar ceremonies?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes a sister or a niece will stick one of those celebrity magazines under my nose.”

  “Mom and Dad never would have spent that kind of money on jewelry. And they didn’t have the kind of friends who did either.”

  “I didn’t think so.” The watchful dark eyes never left her face. “Did your parents have the money? Was it a question of priorities?”

  “It’s true they could have bought nicer things if they hadn’t had three kids. Mom insisted on starting a savings account for each of us as soon as we were born.”

  “How do you know it was her?”

  “I...assumed. I mean, she was the practical one. Except...”

  “Except?” Tony prompted.

  “Dad was different when we were little. He was more engaged. We did stuff as a family. I imagine it was usually at Mom’s instigation, but he seemed to have fun when we went to the county fair or swimming at the lake. He had his head in the clouds, but... I think it was when Mom started to get so aggravated at him that he withdrew. Once Mom left—died—then he was even worse. It was as if she was his link. You know?”

  He made a noncommittal noise before saying, “Matt holds a lot of anger. He seems to think your father wasn’t present in the ways he needed.”

  Remembering the explosive conversations with her brother last weekend, Beth nodded. “The thing is, Matt was big into sports. Dad never understood the appeal. The only organized sport he played was lacrosse, so he couldn’t coach Little League teams or anything like that, not the way some of the other fathers did. It might have been different if Matt’s interests were—” She groped for an idea that might have united her brother and father, but came up short.

  Tony’s eyebrows drew together. “Cars? Art? Computers?”