"My name is Jim, by the way."
I stuck out my hand.
"So, what brings you out on this fine evening?" he asked.
"That’s my brother playing the guitar." I pointed my index finger and brought my hand down as if firing a gun. "There." I figured that the ‘brother’ might be scarier than the five kids and the husband at home. I didn’t mind talking to an eye–catching man, but I didn’t want to encourage him.
"Talented guy. I’ve heard this group before."
"You come here often?" My turn to feel cheesy.
"No, just now and again."
"You must live nearby."
"Not too far. I work in the area. I periodically stop in for lunch, and every so often for a drink on my way home."
"You dress in a sports coat and work on Saturdays?" My curiosity got the better of me.
"I’m a detective for the local police. City of Lexington Heights, actually. My name is Jim McGrath."
I stared at him. Jim McGrath. Detective. Lexington Heights Police Department. He’d called me about the other Mrs. Stitsill. Could the world really be this small? Deep breath. In and out. Too damned freaky.
"Interesting line of work," I remarked.
"Some days."
The band got louder. The first set usually started slow and easy. I knew from past experience that things rocked and rolled to keep the customers interested, drinking, and on the premises. Jim and I had to discontinue our conversation until the song ended.
"So, what do you detect?" I asked.
"Whatever needs detecting," he answered, displaying his sense of humor.
"Do you enjoy it?"
"Yes, I do. It’s not exciting all of the time, but there are cases that get me pretty wrapped up. I enjoy it when that happens."
"Family?"
"No. That was over a long time ago, and I haven’t had the heart to try it again since. What about you? You like what you do? You like your family, I take it." He nodded toward the band. "You’re spending time with your brothers."
"Family is a priority, for sure. Other than that, I’ve taught school pretty much since childhood. I wouldn’t know what else to do with myself. I love my gaggle of kids and my husband. The whole nine yards. I even like the picket fence."
"You have a picket fence?"
"Just a figure of speech," I said, smiling at him.
Mark joined us while the band took a break. Jim introduced himself, explaining he’d kept me company during the first set. Like I needed the protection of a law officer.
"Can I get you anything, Mark?" Jim asked as he stood. He must have been nervous since he high–tailed it to the bar as soon as Mark grabbed a seat.
"Just a Coke, man. Thanks." Mark turned to me. "What are you doing here?"
"Tom invited me. Five seconds after I arrive, some hot babe catches his eye and he ditches me."
"Sounds like Tom." Mark nodded.
"Of course, you wouldn’t personally know anything about it."
"That’s right. I’m done with women. By the way, did I tell you about trying the internet dating thing?"
I shivered with revulsion. "Spooky."
"That’s one word for it. One night, five women showed up here. They’d all posted photos of themselves on the net. Not one of them looked like their pics. Now that’s spooky."
I laughed. Couldn’t help myself.
He shuddered.
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Jim the detective reappeared. I surveyed him again, aided by my adult beverage, and he appeared even better looking than he had five minutes ago. Dangerous, but Mark and Tom would protect me from myself.
Jim placed a drink in front of me. An observant detective, he’d observed my beverage of choice. Mark and I thanked him in unison. Jim made small talk with Mark, asking the appropriate groupie questions until Mark excused himself to search for Tom.
Alone with Jim again, I wondered what the hell we’d talk about. I searched the crowd for Mark, and breathed a sigh of relief as he returned to the stage. The second set began, the bass rhythm smooth and even. No small talk required.
Jim seemed equally content to sit and listen to the music. All too aware of the peace I felt in this man’s quiet company, sort of like seeing an old friend again after a long absence, the easiness sent a surge of uneasiness through me.
When the band stopped playing, I zipped to the ladies room. I needed coffee. While sitting in a chair, I’d felt mellow. Being on my feet proved trickier than I’d imagined. I called home from the ladies room to check on the kids. All well on the home front. There is a God. I could take time for coffee.
I made it back to the table without a problem. Jim sat and chatted with Tom and Mark, both having reappeared during my absence. Sweet Tom asked if I’d like anything, and I said a little too loudly, "Black coffee."
He nodded and made his way across the room to the bar. The crowd filled in. It seemed like a good time for me to leave, before the place began to take on a life of its own, and me along with it. I certainly had the ability to take on the life of a place. At home as a wife and mother, at school as a teacher, at a bar as a floozy. Time for me to remember my real life and get the hell out of there.
The coffee helped. Jim and the boys shot music talk back and forth while I sipped caffeine. Before too long, I felt jolted awake. In another ten minutes or so, the band would start their third set. I’d finish my coffee and be on my way.
After Tom and Mark excused themselves, I met Jim’s gaze. "I’ve got a detective question for you. Do guns for hire really exist?"
Jim laughed. He found me amusing or strange. I couldn’t tell which.
I shrugged. "I know. A naïve question."
"Sure they do," he replied, looking incredulous. "What the hell kind of books do you read?"
"Mysteries, international intrigue. That sort of thing."
"I don’t know any assassins personally. After all, I’m just local blue. Not a Fed."
"I see." My nerves kicked in, and I thought maybe the naïve tactic would work well at this point. "Listen, Jim, I’ve enjoyed meeting you and talking with you, but I need to get home."
"You okay to drive?" Such a gentleman.
"I am." I displayed a wide smile, trying my darndest not to be flirty. Sometimes I got flirty even when I didn’t mean to. This guy had my blood flowing hot and fast. He still looked attractive, even after the coffee. Trouble!
Jim reached into his inside suit coat pocket and withdrew a business card. "If you’re ever in need of a detective, give me a call."
He flashed a drop–dead gorgeous smile at me.
My insides melted. Just a little. "Thanks." I stifled the urge to tackle him right then and there. "Again, great talking with you. And good job getting your friend out of here intact."
"You take care, Samantha. It’s been my pleasure." Jim stood as I pushed in my chair and offered me his hand. I behaved and politely shook his hand.
I found Tom, giving him a quick kiss and the kid excuse. Then I located Mark, doing the same with him.
I believe in fate. There had to be a reason I’d met Jim McGrath tonight. I thought about this as I tucked his business card inside my purse and dug out a breath mint. I’d gotten a great parking spot under a light in the parking lot. I punched the unlock button on my remote and jumped into the driver’s seat of my van. Plenty to think about on my ride home.
Chapter 13
MONDAY MORNING OPENED with a hands–on Social Studies project. The kids and I busied ourselves, excited about the assignment and carefully coloring maps as soon announcements ended. I felt energized after the weekend, feeling as though I’d somehow turned a corner. Not sure what corner exactly, but I felt it deep within my bones.
The morning flew by. My mind, over which I maintain sporadic control, strayed beyond the classroom. I needed a way inside the Stitsill home. I’d concocted a reasonable plan on my drive in that morning. A woman on a mission, I would soon set the wheels in motion. Di and I rendezv
oused in the lunchroom. She, too, looked refreshed after the weekend.
"How was your date?" I asked, noticing an extra gleam in her eye. Her glance told me I’d misspoken. She wanted privacy. I tried to change the subject, but Ben caught on before I could switch gears.
"What, Rossi had a date?" Ben called everyone by their last names. I think it came from being a jock. The old pat–on–the–ass familiarity and part of his charm.
"No, Ben, I didn’t have a date." Di flashed him a winning smile and asked him about his weekend. "What about you, Ben? Did you have a date?"
"Yeah, me and Bud Light. We rented a couple of movies and kept each other company until the wee hours. The old ball and chain went to a bachelorette party, so I was on my own."
"Ben, you aren’t even married. How can you call Sara the old ball and chain? Do you want to keep seeing her? She’ll ditch you if she hears the way you talk about her." Di shot a look right back at him.
"Trust me, she knows all about me. She’s crazy about me. She can’t help herself." Ben’s eyes began to twinkle. He had this way about him. On the outside, a callous exterior, on the inside, pure mush. Crazy about Sara, I knew he’d be the one to despair if they parted.
The banter continued through the rest of lunch. All part of sharing a meal with Ben. "Sorry about that," I told Di as we exited the teacher’s lounge.
"No biggie." She shrugged. "I just don’t want everyone knowing my business. There’s enough gossip around here."
"I know what you mean." The rumor mill at school. Not pretty.
"So, how was your date?" I asked as we wandered side by side down the long, narrow hall.
"Fabulous," Di said, her voice lilting. "Chris is quite dashing. We dined at Mexican Village, and then took a long walk along the river. The stars glowed, and he put his arm around me as we strolled down the river walk. Very romantic. He’s so easy to be with…" Di paused, then nodded as she admitted, "He might be a keeper."
Di had a faraway look in her eyes, the same one I remembered having when I’d first met Jon. The dreamy look of hormones moving in the right direction.
"I hope so. You deserve it." I gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
"I don’t want to get my hopes up needlessly, but I can’t help thinking that something good may come of this."
"Hey, Di, not to change the subject, but is there any chance you could give me a ride to the car dealer’s after work tomorrow? I have to drop off the van in the morning. Carrie Martin’s going to bring me in from there, but she has a doctor’s appointment after work and can’t take me back."
I hoped she wouldn’t turn me down right off the bat and offer to take me after she finished tutoring at Joey’s house.
"I have to tutor Joey right after school tomorrow, but I can swing back by and pick you up after I’m done."
"Why don’t I just come with you? Do you think Rosie would mind? I could even stay in the car, roll down the windows and correct papers. The weather is supposed to be nice. The kids will be at the neighbor’s after school. I’ve already arranged it."
Di looked thoughtful. "I don’t know if Joey’s mom is up to having more company. She’s so sick."
"I don’t mind waiting. The peace and quiet will do me good."
"Alrighty, then."
It took forever for Tuesday afternoon to roll around. I felt fired up. Nervous but exhilarated.
We pulled into Joey’s driveway at 4:00 p.m. on the dot. Joey waited at the door for Di, then noticed me sitting in the car. Out he came, running up to the passenger side door. I rolled down the window to greet him. Our eyes met as if a special bond held us, a glue that neither one of us could explain or escape.
"Mrs. Stitsill, hi! What are you doing here?"
I certainly couldn’t tell him. "I’m going to wait here for Ms. Rossi today, and when you two are finished, she’s going to drive me to the car dealership to pick up my car."
"Come inside, Mrs. Stitsill," he urged. "Mom won’t mind. She’s resting on the couch, and she loves it when Ms. Rossi comes. She’ll be glad to see you, too."
"I don’t want to bother her, Joey. She’s not feeling well." I have to admit that his big brown eyes glowed with conviction. Not that I needed anyone to twist my arm.
"You can sit in our den if you want. There’s a desk in there." Joey nodded at the stack of papers in my lap.
I smiled. "You’ve persuaded me. Thanks, Joey."
He opened the car door for me. Di headed up the walk to the side door, all business. I checked out the garage door, Stitsill’s access point that dark night a few weeks ago. Nothing remarkable there. As Joey led me around to the rear of the house, I noted that both side and back doors led into the tidy garage.
Inside the garage sat Rosie’s old silver Taurus. A small tool bench stood alongside the south wall, two shiny Schwinn bikes carefully parked in front of the hanging yard tools. The side door into the house from the garage led to a tiny landing with a short two steps up into the kitchen. Modestly furnished. Di had been right about that, too. Joey ran ahead of me, excited to tell his mom of my arrival with his tutor.
"Mom, guess what? Mrs. Stitsill is here with Ms. Rossi today. She needed a ride to pick up her car. Can she work in the den? Ms. Rossi and I will work in the kitchen, and we won’t bother you at all."
I heard Rosie answer him in a soft voice, and I felt more than a little guilty. Not guilty enough to leave, but definitely ashamed. A smiling Joey emerged from the family room.
"Mom said you’re welcome to use her desk in the den. She’s resting, so I’ll get you a drink if you want one. Ms. Rossi and I always have ice water. Want some?"
Incredible kid, I thought as I nodded.
Joey handed me a glass, filled to the brim with ice and cool water, showed me into the den, and pointed out his mom’s desk. Then, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.
I set my papers on the desk, sat down, and retrieved my red pen from my purse. For a brief moment, I had every intention of getting a little work done, but my curiosity got the better of me. C’mon, who was I kidding? I couldn’t help but look around.
When Joey had closed the door on his way out, I was sure he intended to afford me some privacy. Little did he know it also gave me the opportunity to do some serious snooping. Had I lucked out, or what?
I took in my surroundings, noting the L–shaped desk held an older model PC to the left and a work surface to the right. A two drawer metal cabinet sat to the right of the desk. Photo albums lined the shelves to the right of the file drawers. Bingo. I had an album in my hands, opening the front cover before I knew it. Would this offer any answers? Would I see the mystery man who’d been on the street in front of the house? I prayed for good fortune. Documentation.
I scanned photographs of Rosie dressed in the usual hospital garb, holding an infant swaddled in a blue blanket. I recognized the scene from my own birthing experiences. She looked worn out but ecstatic. I felt like an intruder, but continued my search.
I moved the album to my lap, turning the page. A toddler appeared in the next few photos, so the baby must have been Joey and the toddler, Emilio. Only pictures of the three of them. Rosie, Emilio, and Joey. I continued to hope for at least a glimpse of Rosie’s not so dead husband. No such luck. Surely, he’d been around for Joey’s birth. But then he and Rosie hadn’t been together in any of the wedding pictures she’d left behind at school either. Apparently, he hadn’t wanted to be seen with Rosie, or the kids, for that matter. Who the hell was this guy?
I checked my watch. Di would be done soon. I quickly turned the pages of the album. Sure enough, no pictures of Mr. Stitsill. Just the two boys and Rosie at Joey’s christening, during the holidays, and his first birthday. I closed the album, scanning the room for additional traces of the Stitsill impostor. A shallow metal strongbox, similar to a safe deposit box, peeked out from the back of the shelf that held the photo albums. I reinserted the book I’d been viewing, pulling out the next few albums out to get a better look. The m
etal container, about eight inches deep, eight inches long, and four inches high, had a key lock on the front. I picked it up, giving it a gentle shake. It appeared to contain only paper documents. No jingling keys, nor rattling coins. Heavier than I’d expected, I couldn’t determine the contents by simply hefting it.
Nervous about the time, I returned it to its spot without further investigation. Just to be safe, I wiped the surface with the tissue I kept in my handbag. I carefully repositioned the books, leaving things exactly as I found them. Gathering my papers and purse, I headed to the kitchen. Di and Joey had just finished up.
Joey went in to check on his mom as we got ready to leave. "She’s asleep," he whispered as he handed a check to Di.
"Thanks, Joey," Di said. "And keep up the good work. I’m sure your mom is proud of how well you’re doing. I’ll see you at school tomorrow."
Joey smiled.
As we said goodbye, I imagined what it must be like to walk in his shoes. Obviously, Joey possessed a valiant spirit. Why could some kids weather the storms they encountered? Why were others devastated by the slightest breeze?
I supposed that, to him, his life still seemed fairly stable. In light of Rosie’s illness, life from day to day hadn’t changed much, and he had the stability of school, his brother, and Di. Those constants probably kept him grounded.
As we left, I asked Di, "What do you think of his outlook?"
"I don’t know when I’ve been more impressed by a kid," she said thoughtfully. "He’s amazing. He takes on every single challenge with such a positive attitude. It’s as if he isn’t real. He smiles through all of our work together, chit–chatting about this and that. He talks about Emilio and what they do for fun, like hanging out in the yard and kicking the soccer ball around. He told me today that he’s really looking forward to the weekend. Rosie’s friends from church are taking him and Emilio to the church fair."
"What do they do for dinner?" I asked before I realized I’d spoken aloud.
Identity Issues (The Samantha Series) Page 8
