by Sandra Balzo
And yesterday I’d been more than nice. In fact, I’d actually started to like the little slut. Even agreed to help her catch others of her species.
The pot beeped and I took Ted’s cup out from under the filter and inserted another for me. Then I switched out the bundle of soggy grounds for a new one. Hazelnut cream sounded good.
I added one Splenda and a little cream and took Ted’s cup to him before it got cold.
He looked up as I held it out to him. ‘What am I going to do, Maggy?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, giving up any thoughts of going back to the kitchen for my coffee immediately. I sat down on the couch across from him. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you’ve already done.’
I wasn’t quite sure what I was asking him, but it sounded like one of those great open-ended questions they ask on TV.
Ted shrugged, looking away from me, but didn’t say anything.
‘You called the sheriff’s department, right?’ I prodded.
‘First, I called her house – I mean, her parents’ house – thinking maybe she was there.’
‘When?’ I asked. ‘This morning?’
Ted looked startled. ‘No, last night at about nine.’
‘So she didn’t come home at all last night?’ I was trying to put a timeline together in my head. Rachel had left Stephen’s office a little after three o’clock toward a three thirty meeting at the Hamilton.
‘Do you know where she went after her meeting at the Hamilton?’ I asked before I could think of all the reasons I probably shouldn’t.
‘What meeting?’ Ted had taken a sip of the coffee and was holding the cup lop-sided, the hot liquid threatening to spill.
I took the cup away from him and set it on a coaster on the cherry table next to him. Maybe I was being considerate. Then again, maybe I was buying time to figure out how to answer.
How much should I, or shouldn’t I, tell Ted about yesterday afternoon’s events? It would all come out eventually, though later seemed a whole lot better than sooner right now. Especially since Rachel might have her own reasons for taking off for a while.
Besides, if Ted didn’t know what Rachel had been up to, my tipping him off would not endear me to law enforcement. Especially Pavlik. And I really, really wanted to keep being . . . endeared by him.
‘I told you I saw Rachel yesterday,’ I reminded Ted. ‘She said you both had been very busy.’ There. I’d covered myself on what I’d let slip the previous afternoon. ‘She was on her way to a three thirty meeting at the Hamilton.’
‘That’s great,’ Ted said, leaping to his feet. ‘You have to tell the sheriff. It will give them someplace to start looking.’
‘I figured Stephen . . .’ I slapped my mouth closed, but it was too late.
‘Stephen Slattery? I thought you just met him.’ If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Ted sounded jealous.
Think quick, Maggy. I jumped up. ‘Wait! I think I hear my coffee!’ I ran out of the room.
Fortunately, I’d forgotten to push the brew button, so that bought me a few extra seconds. Unfortunately, Ted got impatient and came in after me.
‘What does Stephen have to do with this?’ he asked.
The smell of brewing coffee had settled me down a bit. The answer to the question was obvious. ‘Stephen was with Rachel when I saw her,’ I said as the coffee machine beeped, signaling it was finished brewing.
‘Oh.’ Ted reached for the freshly brewed cup. My cup. My hazelnut cream cup. Before I could stop him, he tore open a packet of Splenda and dumped it in. ‘So if Rachel went with Stephen, he’d know when they left the Hamilton.’
‘He didn’t go with her.’ I watched Ted dump in cream. Way too much cream.
‘Why wouldn’t he go with her?’ Ted asked, taking a sip and pulling out a chair, as if to sit. ‘He’s the executive VP of Slattery Hotels, not Rachel. She couldn’t have cared less about the hotel business.’
‘That’s all you know,’ I muttered. I needed coffee. I’d left home without it and now I’d been aced out of it here. I was getting cranky. I stuck another cup under the brewer. ‘Rachel told me she was getting involved in the family business. She said it was time she stepped up.’
Ted looked genuinely astonished. ‘But that’s ridiculous. Why now, when―’
Ted was interrupted by ChiChi, who came skittering around the corner into the kitchen. Using the pulled-out kitchen chair as a ramp, he launched himself at Ted.
Startled, Ted dropped the coffee cup and it hit the floor, shattering. ‘What the hell?’
‘Doorbell. Wait for it.’
He looked at me.
‘The doorbell is going to ring in a second,’ I explained. ‘Dogs sense it.’
Sure enough. Bling. Bling.
No pedestrian ‘ding-dong’ for Rachel’s house.
I looked at the mess on the floor and did a cost-benefit analysis of answering the bell versus cleaning up the mess on the floor. ‘I’ll get the door,’ I offered.
Pulling the heavy front door open, I fully expected to see a cadre of Slatterys.
Instead I found a cadre of . . . Pavlik.
He looked at me. I looked at him. Neither of us seemed thrilled to see the other one.
‘Hi,’ I said lamely.
‘Hi.’ His eyebrows worked their way down his forehead from the heights they’d achieved when he saw me to the depths they typically reached when he was ticked at me.
‘Didn’t I just leave you in bed?’ Pavlik signaled for the deputy standing by his squad car to wait outside and stepped in.
‘Ted called me. He was frantic.’
Pavlik didn’t say anything. He’s good at this sheriff stuff.
‘His mother is in Berlin. Or London.’ I said it like it explained everything. ‘To tell you the truth, I was surprised you weren’t here when I arrived.’
It was a little fib, since Ted had told me no one was there.
‘I stopped at the department.’ Pavlik was moving deeper into the house as he spoke, heading toward the living room.
‘Isn’t everyone jumping the gun?’ I asked, trailing after him. ‘Maybe Rachel just decided to go away for a while.’ I said the last part as I maneuvered to get between Pavlik and the living room.
Pavlik glanced in at Ted, who was back in his chintz sling chair. My ex-husband had hold of ChiChi and was stroking him like his life depended on it. Ted’s, not the dog’s. The chihuahua looked unenthusiastic, at best. At worst, he looked like he was going to take off one of Ted’s fingers with those tiny, razor-sharp teeth.
Pavlik turned back to me. ‘Maybe she just went away?’
‘Women need to do that sometimes,’ I asserted, like I was some sort of an expert on the habits of the female species. Fact is, I scarcely understood myself, much less anyone else. ‘Sometimes we need to go,’ I hesitated, ‘umm . . . to a spa.’
Pavlik looked at me. ‘Have you ever been to a spa?’
‘No, but I don’t have all this either.’ I waved my hand toward the living room. ‘It must be very . . . stressful.’
As if on cue, there was a crash. I looked in on Ted. The first cup of coffee, the one I’d set on the end table, was on the floor and Ted was standing, holding his thumb. ChiChi was nowhere in sight. Having apparently bitten the hand that feeds him, he’d made a break for it.
‘You seem awfully eager to protect him,’ Pavlik said, nodding toward Ted.
I didn’t like the way this was going. I’d had a spectacular time with Pavlik last night and I had no intention of ruining it. I also had no desire to protect Ted. I looked over at my former spouse, who was trying to stem the flow of blood by wiping his thumb on his sweatshirt.
‘Protect him?’ I asked. ‘The man doesn’t need a protector. He needs a nanny.’
I almost got a smile from Pavlik. At the very least, his face softened. ‘You need to stay out of this one, Maggy, for your own sake. There’s more going on here than you know.’ He touched my arm. ‘Than you want to know.
’
As much as I aspired to be a strong, independent woman, I was a sucker for being taken care of. Must be all those years of taking care of other people.
I stepped back and Pavlik entered the living room. He stuck out his hand to Ted and I belatedly realized the two had never met. ‘I’m Sheriff Jake Pavlik. And you are?’
Of course Pavlik knew who Ted was. He was standing in Ted’s house, after all. I recognized the technique, unfortunately, from when Pavlik had interviewed me the first time we met. The man had a way of making you feel like an insignificant bug. Even in your own house – or coffeehouse.
It did work wonders, though. ‘Ted Thorsen,’ my ex said, sticking out his hand. There was still blood dripping off the thumb. The damned dog must be a vampire.
The two men shook lefty, while I ducked into the kitchen to get something to mop up.
‘Here,’ I said, returning and handing Ted a paper towel. Pavlik ignored me. I suspected he was letting me stay for the same reason a miner keeps a canary. My reaction might let him know whether Ted was gassing him or not.
‘Ted Thorsen,’ Pavlik said, pulling out his notebook. ‘I thought I saw here that your name was . . .’ He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he wanted and then looked up. ‘Tor?’
Ted’s ears turned red.
‘His parents’ names are Martine and Thor,’ I piped in.
Ted shot me a look.
I shrugged. ‘Just trying to explain it’s not your fault.’
Ted’s father and I had waged a nine-month battle about Eric’s name. Thor had wanted Canute. I won. I was half Norwegian, too, but I preferred normal names like Simon or Eric. You know, the ones from my side of the family.
‘OK,’ Pavlik said, ‘so Tor Thorsen.’
I giggled.
Now both of them shot me dirty looks. ‘I’m sorry,’ I pleaded. ‘It’s just been a while since I’ve heard it.’ I waved my hands. ‘I’m fine now.’
Pavlik just nodded. The man was made of ice.
‘Have you heard something from Rachel?’ Ted asked eagerly. ‘Maggy says―’
By that time, Pavlik had heard enough of what ‘Maggy’ had to say. He cut Ted off. ‘No, we haven’t.’
He was leafing through the notebook again. ‘Your wife’s family provided us with some interesting information, though. Something that you didn’t seem to think was important enough to share.’
Uh-oh. Here it comes. I looked down at my feet and only then realized I had two different sneakers on. Not that it mattered. It was all going to come out now. Ted’s cheating on Rachel. Rachel’s visit to me. Our visit to Stephen. The possible reason for Rachel’s disappearance.
‘You see, that’s what I meant,’ I said, trying to get out ahead of it. ‘Rachel was probably just upset and that’s why she took off for the night.’
Pavlik looked uncertainly at me, a rare crack in his interview-armor. Then, gathering himself, he turned back to Ted.
‘Was your wife upset, Mr Thorsen? Or was it you who was upset that she was pregnant?’
Chapter Six
‘Pregnant?’ I turned toward Ted. There was no reason it should have hurt, but it did. There was no reason I should have cared, but . . . I did.
‘I’m really sorry, Maggy,’ Ted said. ‘I should have told you.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ I had to stop to clear my throat. I was trying to sound normal, but probably not fooling anyone. ‘There’s no reason to apologize. I’m happy for you. Congratulations.’ I plastered a happy-smile on my face.
Pavlik was just watching, willing to see how it all played out.
‘Still, you always―’ Ted started to say, but I interrupted, already embarrassed enough by my reaction.
‘You can’t imagine that I want another baby. I mean, Eric is eighteen, for God’s sake. I’m closer to being a grandmother than a mother.’
I got it then. I knew why I was reacting the way I was. The issue wasn’t having a baby or not. It was moving on or not. Ted had a new wife and a new baby on the way. Me? I was standing still. No, I was doing worse than standing still. Ted was getting younger and I was getting . . . old. Suddenly I knew how Caron felt.
Ted was patting me on the shoulder. ‘You are not old enough to be a grandmother. You look fantastic,’ he said reassuringly. Or was it patronizingly? Guess it depended on my mood.
I waved him off, glancing self-consciously at Pavlik. My lover. Once. Before I was old enough to be a grandmother.
‘I think we have more important things to think about here,’ I said. ‘For example, when was the last time you saw Rachel?’
Ted, taken aback, looked at Pavlik.
Pavlik shrugged. ‘Answer the question.’
‘Yesterday morning when I left for the office,’ Ted said and then turned the tables on me. ‘And you said you saw her and Stephen yesterday afternoon, right? And that Rachel was on her way to a meeting at the Hamilton?’
Pavlik looked surprised, but I just nodded.
‘Why didn’t Stephen say anything to me about it on the phone?’ Ted said.
‘Maybe he assumed you knew,’ I offered. ‘That Rachel told you.’
I looked at Pavlik. For the moment the sheriff seemed content to let us interview ourselves. And it seemed to be working.
‘I didn’t know anything about any meeting,’ Ted said. ‘Rachel said she was going to spend her day shopping for furniture for the nursery we’re adding.’ Ted’s voice broke.
The prep work I had seen outside must be for the nursery. Here I was worrying about growing old and Ted was hoping both Rachel and her baby would have a chance to do the same.
Pavlik flipped the cover closed on his notebook and slid it into his coat pocket. ‘We’ll call you when we know something,’ he said to Ted. ‘I assume you’ll be around?’
Recognizing the signs, I led the way to the door.
‘Of course,’ Ted said, trailing behind Pavlik.
‘I’m going to see Stephen Slattery,’ Pavlik said to me as I stopped in the foyer. ‘Then I’ll want to talk to you. Will you be home?’
‘Either there or at Uncommon Grounds,’ I said, opening the door. ‘But I don’t―’ I looked out and felt like Dorothy when she steps out of the farmhouse after the cyclone. We weren’t in Kansas anymore.
But wherever we were, it must be a slow news day.
Three microwave news trucks were parked on the street and two more were just pulling up. News people were piling out of the vehicles, the reporters standing impatiently with their microphones as the camera operators unpacked equipment and hoisted cameras onto their shoulders.
One reporter, a dark-haired woman, caught sight of us and started to sprint up the driveway in her ruby red Jimmy Choos. That started a stampede of people, cameras and wires.
I tried to close the door, but the brunette reporter stuck her foot in. I wouldn’t have hesitated slamming the door on a pair of loafers, but the Jimmy Choos made me hesitate long enough for her to push a microphone in my face.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded. ‘And why are you here?’
Before I could have answered, even if I’d wanted to, her question was followed by a dozen more shouted by other reporters who had no more idea who I was than she did. Nonetheless, they figured I knew something and they weren’t above talking over each other to find out what that was.
‘When was the last time you saw―’
‘I understand a reward has been offered for inform―’
‘Was there any indication from her behavior that―’
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’
Everyone went quiet.
‘You are on private property,’ Pavlik continued, moving out onto the porch. ‘If you’ll follow me to the street, I’ll give you a statement.’
He turned to me and to Ted, who was standing just out of sight. ‘Shut the door and lock it. If anyone steps on the property, call the department. We’ll arrest them for trespassing.’
Pavlik started down the sidewalk,
most of the reporters following. As I went to close the door, though, the dark-haired woman gave it another try. ‘Who did you say you were?’ she demanded.
‘I didn’t.’ I started to swing the door closed, but she stuck her foot in again.
This time I didn’t let the Choo sway me, but kept on swinging. She pulled out just in time, but as the door closed, the edge of it caught the heel and popped the shoe off. It landed inside.
I locked the door and eyed the shoe.
‘You can’t keep it, you know,’ Ted said as the pounding started up on the other side of the door.
‘But it’s so pretty,’ I said wistfully.
‘Open up,’ the woman yelled.
‘There’s only one of them,’ Ted pointed out.
‘I’d put it on a table and admire it.’ God knows I would never be able to afford to buy two of them. I picked up the shoe and balanced it on the palm of my hand. ‘Look at it. It’s beautiful. It should be in a museum, not on some news-munchkin’s foot.’
Ted gave me a strange look. ‘Well, it belongs to the . . . munchkin. You have to give it back.’
More pounding.
I sighed. He was right.
I opened the door and held out my hand. ‘Take your Choo and get out,’ I said.
The woman grabbed the shoe, threw me a furious look and hobbled down the walkway to where her camera operator was waiting in the cluster around Pavlik.
I closed the door.
‘I can see why you’d like the sheriff,’ Ted said to me as we walked back to the kitchen. ‘He’s the assertive type.’
Which Ted wasn’t, was the unspoken part of his comment and he was right. I’d always had to make all the decisions in the family. It was nice to have someone suggest picking up something for dinner. Or having dessert.
I hoped I’d have dessert again. Sometime.
I looked at the broken cup – the first one – still on the kitchen floor. I felt like I’d spent my whole life cleaning up other people’s messes.
