by Teresa Trent
He hadn’t responded well when I told him that I had invited Leo Fitzpatrick and his son Tyler to dinner.
“You invited them? Why would you do that?”
“Tyler is going to be your buddy at the campout, and I just wanted to make sure you guys are getting along.”
“You have to call Mr. Benny. I can’t be a buddy to Tyler.” His little voice shrieked upwards. “He’ll kill me!”
“No, he won’t. I had lunch with his dad the other day, and Tyler’s been going through some rough times.”
“You had lunch with Mr. Fitzpatrick? Tyler’s dad? Like a date?”
“No. Not like a date. We just both happened to be at the Dine-N-Dash at lunch time and decided to sit together.”
He didn’t look appeased by that. He tilted his head slightly evaluating me for truthfulness. “At the window?”
“Yes.”
“Where everyone could see?”
“Yes, already, but it wasn’t a date. I promise.” I crossed my heart with two fingers.
“I don’t want Dad to come back and see you sitting at the diner with some other dad. He could turn around and go away again.”
I drew in a breath and felt a pit in my stomach. Just when I had let myself forget about it, Barry’s rejection was there. Here was his son, petrified that if we didn’t do anything but wait, he would punish us by leaving again. That is, if he ever showed up. I suppose he got that attitude from me. He had seen me waiting for Barry for seven years. The only time I went “out” was with my family. There were no men threatening to take his place – until this week, that was. Somehow I had broken an unspoken code between the two of us. I had ventured out into the world. He still had his candle in the window burning for his dad. I had just doused mine with a bucket of cold water.
I remembered how Tyler had mocked him heartlessly about his dad and wondered how many other comments had been hurled at him in the viciousness of childhood teasing. If it had been happening, he didn’t complain about it. I knew no matter what other kids said to him, or even what I said to him, he would never give up on his dad. I could see it in his eyes, every holiday and every birthday. He would spend a little time by the window, expecting to see his father walking down the driveway, gravel crunching at his feet, a plastic bag filled with cough drops swinging from his hand. I was pretty sure he thought it was his own little secret. Yet he would give little clues about what was on his mind by finding those times to ask questions about his missing father. What color was Dad’s hair? Did he like sports? Could he throw a football? All of those things would come sneaking out when he was trying to keep his inner thoughts quiet. So I would smile and sit him down away from the window and tell him a little about his dad. I could tell him if his dad liked sports and could throw a football, but the one thing I seemed to never tell him was why Barry didn’t come back.
I probably did him a disservice by not telling him the awful things about Barry. What do you say to a child? “Oh, your dad was a great football player, and by the way, he skipped town, left a pregnant wife, and put our little family in some pretty serious debt. What a guy!”
I couldn’t even tell him whether the reason that Barry didn’t return had to do with us or with some sort of foul play that nobody had figured out yet. I wanted to hug the hurt away, but knew I didn’t have the cure that would heal this. Having other male role models in his life helped some, but they were just a facsimile of what he was actually needing. Learning to make a friend out of a bully seemed to me to be one of those jobs in the dad column, but once again I put it in mine. As the time neared for our dinner guests to arrive, I called to Zach, who was still in front of the TV.
“Zach, come set the table for dinner. Tyler and his father will be here soon.”
He groaned. “Okay Mom, just give me one more minute.”
“All right, but not too long.” I knew by now that giving Zach one more minute was infinitely better than an all-out war over video games. No matter what was going on, he would need another minute and would come around the corner in the allotted time. I could be saying, “Zach, the house is on fire, and he would return with something like, ‘Sure thing, Mom, just one more minute. Let me get to the portal.’”
A minute later Zach walked in, rolled his eyes, let out a sigh and stuck his hands out. I handed him a stack of plates with silverware and napkins stacked on top. He began to set the places at the table slowly, his mind on something else.
“Hey, Mom,” he said as he placed the silverware crookedly on a napkin. “I was just wondering. Does Grandpa still look for Dad?”
A leaf of lettuce escaped from the bowl as I tossed the salad. “You bet, champ.”
“Good,” he said, a quietness creeping into his voice.
“You going to be okay with Tyler coming over here tonight?”
“No.”
“Come on, we have to try.”
“You don’t understand, Mom. Tyler is a mean boy. He’s been mean since the day he started at school.”
“Well, maybe he just needs a friend.”
“A friend to beat up all the time?”
“No,” I corrected him. “ A friend to find out why he’s so angry all the time. Maybe he misses his mom.”
That made him think a minute, but then a scowl came over his face as the doorbell chimed. As Fitzpatrick came in the door, he handed me a bottle of Riesling. “This is for our supper tonight. Thank you so much for inviting us.”
“We’re just glad you could come,” I said. The boys eyed each other, reminding me of the predatory animals on the nature channel.
Shortly after sitting around the table, all three of my fellow diners dug into the spaghetti dinner. I surmised that Tyler and his dad didn’t get a whole lot of home cooking, or else they were just downright hungry. They scarfed it down.
“So are you looking forward to the campout tomorrow night, Tyler?” I asked when it seemed he had come up for air.
Tyler was scooping more pasta into his mouth. “Sure,” he said through a mouthful.
“So with your … situation … Benny watches out for Zach?” Fitzpatrick asked.
“Sometimes. My dad goes with Zach when he’s not on duty.”
“And he’ll be on duty on Halloween?”
“Oh, yes,” I replied. “Will he ever. Between the Scouts in the woods, the protection of the crime scene, the paranormal investigation and then all of the other pranks that go on at Halloween, he’s pretty over-scheduled.”
“I bet. Did they ever find out who murdered that guy, Canfield?”
“No, not yet.”
“It’s all pretty strange how I ran into him.” Fitzpatrick twirled his spaghetti. I expected him to continue, but he did not.
“You saw Mr. Canfield before he died?” Zach asked.
Fitzpatrick looked at me checking to see if he could reveal his part in the day of Canfield’s death. Unseen to Zach, I quietly nodded in agreement.
“Oh, that.” He sat back for a minute and looked up. “Well, I was out walking around the hospital, scouting it out for my investment client from Dallas, when I turned a corner and there he was. He about jumped out of his skin when he saw me. A guy like Canfield probably needed to watch his own back for all the people he’s swindled out there.”
“Wow,” Zach said, with Tyler echoing him.
“I’ve heard some things about that but really no details. Do you know of any incidents where he took someone’s money?” I asked.
“Um … I don’t know. I just wouldn’t trust him,” he said.
“Well, thank goodness you gave the council an idea on how to sell that old eyesore. You saved the day and my aunt’s investigation show. I thought it would be canceled, especially with all that stuff Miss Boyle was saying.”
“It’s amazing to me how heated up she gets about all of that hocus pocus.”
“Yes, I know.”
I noticed Zach and Tyler had both finished their meals. “Mom, can Tyler and I go play video games?”
&n
bsp; “It’s all right with me, how about you?” I gestured to Fitzpatrick.
“Leo, please?” said Tyler. “Uh, I mean, please Dad?”
“Sure.”
Tyler jumped up, knocking Zach sideways and hitting him in the cast.
“Sorry,” Tyler said. The two boys rushed off to the next room.
Fitzpatrick folded his napkin in his lap. His eyes darted to me. “Tyler’s still getting used to calling me Dad. His mother always called me Leo in front of him. I’m hoping the campout this weekend will help things along a bit.”
I nodded. “Yes, I wonder how Zach would react if Barry came back into our lives. He probably wouldn’t know what to call him, either.”
“I promised Benny I would serve as sort of a second in command. It doesn’t help that the Texas Piney Woods seem to have brought out the hay fever in me. I’ll probably be sneezing and coughing all night. It must have affected Canfield too – I heard him coughing all throughout that old place.”
“I just can’t believe you were out at the old hospital on the day that Canfield was killed. You’re probably the last person to see him alive.”
“Correction. I’m probably the last person to see Canfield before his killer.”
“Yes, you’re right.” I laughed uneasily.
“Besides, I saw Benny Mason pull up and walk off into the woods.”
“You did?”
“Yes, but I never saw him inside where we were.”
“Did you tell my father this?”
“No. I didn’t know I needed to. We did have quite a conversation ending with the ever-popular ‘Don’t leave town.’”
“You need to tell him this, right away, for Benny’s sake.”
I recited my dad’s phone number to Fitzpatrick. Upon calling him, he proceeded to repeat to him what he had just shared with me. I wasn’t sure whether this would clear Benny or just get a witness confirming he was out there.
“Yes. Well, thank you, Lieutenant Kelsey.” He pushed the end button on his cell phone. I had started rinsing plates and putting them in the dishwasher. Fitzpatrick refilled our wine glasses and brought mine over to me.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He said thank you for the information but that he already knew Benny was out there. Benny told him that he was out there.”
“He did, but my dad didn’t have anyone else saying he was out there,” I said, sipping my wine.
“Benny is a nice guy and all, but what if he really did it?”
I thought about that for a moment. Things like that do happen. Sometimes the charming guy who works with kids ends up being some kind of psychopath who kills the butcher because he didn’t cut off enough fat on the brisket. No, not Benny. I had seen him so many times in stressful situations with the Scouts, and nothing seemed to crack his patience. He just wasn’t the killer type.
“But what if he didn’t?” I asked. “What’s going to happen to Celia and the boys if he goes off to prison for a crime he didn’t commit? What’s going to happen to their business?”
“I guess you’re right. Would it help to tell you that I saw him drive away while Canfield was still alive?”
I went over to the table where he had laid down his cell phone, picked it up and handed it to him. “Call him back.”
He was stunned. “Uh, okay.” After speaking with my dad on the phone for a few minutes, Fitzpatrick handed the phone to me.
“He said he wants to talk to you now.”
“Hey, Dad. Isn’t that great news about Benny?”
“Yes, darlin’ it’s great. Hey listen, I have a little question for you. Why are you entertaining one of my main suspects in the death of Oliver Canfield?”
I sat down on a high stool in my kitchen aware that Fitzpatrick was listening. “Um, Dad, we’re having a play date.”
“A what?”
“A play date, Dad.”
“Well, after seven years I guess I should be pleased with whatever you’re calling it,” he said.
“No! Not like that. The boys will be camping buddies, so we’re trying to get them to become better acquainted.”
“Oh, so they don’t kill each other.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, as long as you are looking out for your son with the boy, I need you to look out for yourself and that guy you’re playdatin’ with. I never did get too straight a scoop on just what he was doin’ at that fire. As a matter of fact, I’m not all that sure I know what you were doin’ out at the bank building.”
“Dad. You were going to shut us out of the hospital, and well … Don’t laugh, okay? I wanted to see if I could figure out what Oliver Canfield was doing and to make sure that whatever had happened it didn’t have anything to do with Barry.”
“Barry? Too much time has passed for that, Betsy.”
“Maybe. I know, Dad, I know. It sounds preposterous.”
“And what did this private investigation prove? You have interfered with an ongoing investigation and put yourself in danger.”
“Yes, but I may have figured why someone killed him.”
“Do tell.”
“Did you read through the stuff on his desk? The man had at least three different girlfriends.”
“It might make him tired, but I don’t think that’s against the law.”
“It is if Canfield was using their credit cards without their permission.”
“Where did you find these credit cards? Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” My father’s anger was rising.
“I didn’t know how you would react to my ‘interfering,’ dad. I found the cards hidden in his desk drawer.”
“Did you happen to bring these cards out of the fire with you?”
“Well, no.”
“Do you remember the names on the cards?”
“Um, let me think. Ruby Morris. Uh, Mary – no, Martha Johnson, and uh … Baumgartner. The only one I knew was Maureen Boyle.”
“The Maureen Boyle?”
“The one and only.”
“OK, I’ll check this out. In the meantime, you keep an eye on Fitzpatrick and son over there, and if there’s any trouble they’ll have to answer to your old dad.”
Fitzpatrick leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, holding the half-empty wine glass. He watched me for a moment and then spoke as soon as I finished my conversation with my dad.
“Excuse me for listening in, but did you say you found something with the name Baumgartner on it in Canfield’s office?”
I handed him back his phone. “Uh, yes. I don’t know if my dad would want you to know, but then again, after hearing me talk about it, I guess you already know, now don’t you?” I surmised.
Fitzpatrick looked a little confused after all that. He cocked his head to the side. “What do I know, exactly?”
I rubbed my eyes and felt a little tired, especially after that second glass of wine. “It was a credit card I found along with a few others with all with the names of women on them. Do you know someone named Baumgartner? And as long as I’m thinking about it, just what were you doing there besides rescuing me?”
“I was wondering when we would get around to that, you see …”
A screech came from the living room. “Mom! Tyler won’t share!”
We put down our wine glasses and headed for the living room.
“Tyler, it’s my turn.”
Tyler was bent over the game controller pushing buttons as his body swerved with a race car careening down drawn-in highways on the television screen.
“In a minute, dude.”
“Tyler!” Fitzpatrick said, his tone commanding. “Put down the controller this minute and apologize to our host.”
Tyler’s car crashed into a wall on the screen, generating the “Game Over” banner.
Tyler stuffed the controller back into Zach’s hands. “Sorry.” His apology was short and unfeeling. He rose to Fitzpatrick’s side. “Can we go now?”
“Sure,” Fi
tzpatrick answered as he followed Tyler to the door.
“But you were about to tell me why you were in the bank building,” I said after him.
“Oh yeah, well, I guess I was just there to rescue you.” He put his fingers to his forehead as if touching an invisible brim of a hat. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, Mrs. Livingston. We’ll see the both of you at the campout.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next day, I dropped Zach off wearing his safety pin-altered policeman’s uniform. We used his Scout shorts, along with one of my dad’s old tan shirts tucked in so far the hem it could be seen creeping out where the shorts hit his legs. That shirt was important, Zach told me, because it had the patches for the PBPD on the sleeve. It was official, whereas all the other kids had on fake stuff. He would be there as a Scout but also operating as a junior deputy for the campout. Barney Fife lives and breathes right here in Texas, complete with one spitwad in his pocket.
The sun was beating down as we unloaded his gear at the campsite. I could smell bug repellent drifting by as all the little boys ran around us with bundled sleeping bags and tents. Rivers of sweat ran down through their hair, causing it to layer in straight lines across their foreheads.
I was not excited about leaving Zach with his camping buddy the bully, but what could I do? Maybe Tyler would think Zach could actually arrest him if he beat him up. Hopefully Benny would keep an eye on them, or at least listen for screams. Zach assured me that he could take care of himself and didn’t need Benny babysitting him. Fifty pounds of fighting man, or at least that’s what he thought of himself.
When I met up with Maggie and Danny in front of the hospital, I couldn’t help but notice her hair. As she walked over to me, her bouffant style seemed to be molded around her “Paranormal Investigator” cap. She even had a “Casper the Friendly Ghost” pin stuck on the brim of the hat, just in case it might attract a few spirits. It was a work of hair art. I raised my eyebrows and crooked my neck around trying to see the whole thing.
