Dead In The Water (Rebecca Schwartz Mystery #4) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series)

by Julie Smith

  I was at a loss. “Talk to her? What would I say?”

  “I don’t know. She liked you. She told me so.”

  If this was a sexual ploy, it was the oddest one I’d ever encountered. But if it wasn’t that, what was it?

  “I think maybe I should take her to a doctor. Maybe she’s in shock or something.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She won’t speak, except to mention the rock or whatever it is. She won’t even give it a name. She calls it ‘the white thing.’ She’s acting as if Sadie’s death had something to do with it.”

  My ears perked up. “You mean, as if someone killed her for it?”

  Ho looked confused and frustrated. “I don’t know. She’s not making sense. Something’s going on. She’s acting as if she’s afraid of me.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I couldn’t believe what I saw in Julio’s living room—a huge saltwater aquarium. And other than that, precious little, as if Sylvia had taken the furniture and he’d replaced it with odds and ends.

  “You like the aquarium?”

  “Was I staring?”

  “It’s kind of predictable, I guess.”

  “It’s not that; it’s just that—” I stopped. I was damned if I was going to tell him we had this huge thing in common, as if this were a date or something. “It’s very nice.”

  It was quite different from mine, much bigger for one thing, three hundred gallons maybe. And mine was heated, so I could keep tropical fish; his was a cold one. He kept the same sorts of fishes in it that they did in the big aquarium—the ones found in Monterey Bay.

  “I keep mostly juvenile things in it—little blue rockfish, chili peppers, mysid shrimps, perch, gunnels—”

  “There’s a grunt sculpin!” I didn’t mean to show off, but I love those funny little fellows.

  “You seem to know your fish.”

  “Oh, look—a baby wolf eel.” I could just see its head in a little rock cave Julio had built for it.

  He grinned. “Cecil the sea serpent. Esperanza hates him. She doesn’t care much for snaky fish.”

  “Omigod! What is that!"

  “What?”

  “That thing that looks like a—a—”

  He stared at my pointing finger. “A dog turd?”

  “To put it delicately.”

  “That’s how Esperanza puts it. And talk about something she hates! Wow, does she hate them—with a deep, primal loathing the way some people hate spiders. Libby, too—all the kids do. Can’t say that I blame them either. Some things are hard even for an aquarist to stomach. It’s a hagfish—I’ve got three of them in there. Disgusting, but they’ll keep your tank clean for you.”

  “A hagfish?”

  “Otherwise knows as a slime eel. Does that ring a bell?” I shook my head. “I guess I’ve led a more sheltered life than I thought.”

  “No eyes; one rasping tooth.” He shuddered. “Among its other charming qualities, it can tie itself in knots.”

  “What about the slime?”

  But Esperanza, who had heretofore not uttered a peep, called, “Daddy, are you back? Did you get it?”

  “Uh-oh.” Julio looked sheepish, a provider who’d failed to bring home the bacon. “I guess I’d better break the news.”

  “I didn’t realize she was here. She was so quiet.”

  He sighed. “That’s how she’s been.”

  “I mean, I guess I imagined you’d left her with a neighbor.”

  He saw what I was getting at. “You don’t think I should have left her alone?”

  “She seems so little.”

  “She’s just short, like her mom. She’s ten—you don’t think that’s old enough?”

  I considered. “I guess so.”

  It was comical, really. I could tell he genuinely didn’t know if she was old enough to be left alone, and he thought I might because I’m a woman. I hadn’t a clue. Who did know anything about kids, and how did they find out? I’d never thought to wonder before.

  “I’ll tell her the bad news. Then you can go in.” Julio walked to the back of the house, and I thought I could hear a drone, his voice. There was one stifled wail and nothing else from Esperanza.

  He came back looking like some sitcom depiction of an expectant father in a waiting room—terrified by the alien world of women and children. “She’s a wreck.”

  “Shall I go in alone, or do you want to come?”

  But he was staring past me, out the window. “Here comes Ricky. Maybe Amber’s with him.”

  I remembered that Amber was a young friend of Esperanza’s, and seeing a boy—or young man—getting out of his car, I thought he might be her brother. He was wearing a baseball cap, jeans, and tennies. He was fairly slight and fairly short—maybe a boy and maybe a man. Almost certainly the fleeing figure I’d so impulsively chased.

  Clearly hoping for a juvenile distraction, Julio strode past me and opened the door. “Ricky, boy, come in. Did you bring Amber?”

  “Amber’s grounded. We’re talking about a very, very naughty girl.”

  “What’d she do?”

  “Something so bad I don’t even want to say.” He came in, spotted me, and went, without missing a beat, into a none-too-subtle onceover. He wasn’t Amber’s brother. Either he was another single father or married life didn’t suit him.

  “Ricky Flynn, Rebecca Schwartz,” said Julio.

  I nodded, not offering to shake. Ricky’s staring had put me off.

  Ricky nodded back, gave me a worried look—did he recognize me?—and turned to Julio, all but jerking his head in my direction, spelling out that he wished I weren’t there. A polite person would have left the room. I thought I’d learn more if I stayed.

  Ricky said, “Hey, man, I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “Ricky, it’s not a good time. Esperanza’s really flattened by Sadie’s death.”

  “Oh, God! It’s true.” Ricky looked as if he might cry. “That’s what I came by to ask. I thought it was just some crazy rumor. Marty—”

  Julio looked a warning. “Rebecca’s Marty’s lawyer,” he said quickly.

  “You’re Marty’s lawyer?’’

  I nodded, slightly amused that he wanted it repeated. On second look, there was something appealing about Ricky, and it was the thing that had put me off at first—the boyish quality that included staring like a teenager. He took off the baseball hat and ran a hand through light hair that was cut stylishly spiky, but wouldn’t stand up right after its mashing. Some of it sagged and some stuck up in tufts, affording an amusingly zany look that went well with his freckles. I thought he was younger than Julio, but I couldn’t be sure. It was hard to imagine him a father.

  He blurted, “I heard Marty murdered her.”

  “You did? Maybe you better tell me about it.”

  He flushed. “I thought it was just a rumor.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans and stared at his tennis shoes. “It’s really true, huh?”

  “It’s really true someone murdered her. Where were you last night between six and eight?”

  “Me?” He seemed deeply shocked by the question. “Having dinner with Amber.”

  “Just kidding.”

  “Oh.” To Julio he said, “This really messes me up, man.”

  “Ricky, could we talk about it later?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry—see you later.” He gave me a nervous, surreptitious grin and more or less stumbled out, tripping over his toes. The look reminded me of a little kid who covers his face and thinks he’s invisible. Ricky might be a puer etemus, but it’s the sort of thing lots of grown-ups do.

  The funny thing is that it usually works, I’ve noticed. When one person telegraphs he wants to keep something secret, others usually enter into a silent conspiracy to help him do it, even when it’s much to their disadvantage. And so my natural impulse was to respect Ricky’s privacy. I ignored it.

  “I think I made him uncomfortable,” I said. “He gave me a funny look when he left.”

>   “You didn’t make him uncomfortable. He thought you were swell.”

  “It seemed as if he really had something on his mind.”

  “Ricky overdramatizes.”

  Oh, well. Discretion is a good quality in a man.

  All this time, there hadn’t been a peep out of Esperanza. We found her lying on her bed staring at the wall.

  Julio said, “Nena, I’ve brought Rebecca. You know—the nice lady from Libby’s? I thought you might want to talk to her.”

  No answer.

  The hopelessness of the whole idea swept over me like a bucket of cold water. And I was furious. Esperanza had been afraid of me before, she’d be afraid of me now. I was a stranger. She wasn’t going to talk to me.

  Now I saw exactly why Julio had brought me here. This was no sexual ploy, it was a sexist one. Dealing with difficult children was women’s work and he’d simply never learned how to do it. He’d told me the truth—I was sure he did feel helpless in the face of Esperanza’s withdrawal. Instead of having the balls to break through, figure it out, do what had to be done, he’d recruited me. But I wasn’t really angry at him. I was pissed off because I felt as much at a loss as he did.

  Julio stayed at the threshold while I crept in and sat on the bed, not sure whether the closeness would be comforting or threatening. I started winging it, babbling, more or less stream-of-consciousness-style, hoping I’d hit on something that got a response.

  “You know, Libby loved Sadie very much, too. It’s going to be very hard for both of you without her, and I understand how bad you feel. I want you to know that it’s okay to cry and feel as bad as you need to feel and that that feeling will go away, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—”

  I stopped to get hold of myself, hoping she was too young to have seen Casablanca. I got up the nerve to stroke her hair, and to my surprise, she turned on her back and looked at me. Her eyes flicked to Julio, and I thought I saw fear in them—he had said she seemed afraid of him—and instinctively I turned, perhaps to see if I could see what she saw. But Julio smiled a quiet smile and left.

  The coward, I thought, but my heart wasn’t in it. I knew he had done the right thing, leaving us alone.

  What next? It was anybody’s guess what was troubling her—other than simple grief—but that flicker of fear made me think there was something. Why would a child be afraid of her father?

  The first thing that came up made my throat go dry. I smashed it down quickly and tried to think. But my mind wouldn’t leave it. I remembered everything I’d ever heard about molested children—that is, about our reactions to them. We try to pretend it didn’t happen. We don’t want to believe it and we don’t listen. I couldn’t fall into that trap. I had to face it.

  “Sweetheart, is there something you need to talk to me about?”

  Terror. Absolute, unadulterated terror spread like a blush on her small face. She shook her head violently. I pretended not to notice. I smiled, or maybe grimaced; anyway, I went through the motion. “Good. Because if anybody hurt you, I wouldn’t let them get away with it. Adults are supposed to protect kids, and I’d do that. I’d make sure they never hurt you again.”

  I saw the relief even before I started the protection promises. Did she believe me? Was I winning her confidence?

  “Has someone hurt you?”

  She shook her head, eyes bland, telling me I was completely off base.

  “Are things okay between you and your dad?”

  Fear flickered again. Having faced the incest specter (and gotten nowhere), I tried to see beyond it. Why else might a child be afraid of her father?

  Because she had a guilty secret. Or thought she had.

  That must be it. Aha, I had it now for sure.

  “You know, Esperanza,” I intoned importantly, “what happened to Sadie was really awful, but you couldn’t stop it from happening. A lot of times people feel guilty when someone dies, but it’s only a feeling, it’s not real. I mean, they feel that way even though they couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with the person’s death.”

  Tears started in the brown eyes, and a sob from the deep wracked her body upright and into my arms. She clung to me like a barnacle to a gray whale, her body heaving as if she were retching, and I knew that it felt that way to her. I was swept to my own childhood crying jags, to the overwhelming feeling of needing to be rid of something.

  Unexpectedly she spoke to me. “Did they really put Marty in jail?”

  “I’m afraid they did, but she won’t have to stay there long. They’re going to let her out pretty soon.”

  She pulled away from me, but maintained eye contact, kept sitting. She seemed to be coming out of her waking coma.

  “Is jail worse than hell?”

  “To tell you the truth, not everyone believes in hell.”

  “They don’t? It isn’t a real place?”

  “Some people think it is. But no one’s ever been there and come back, so no one knows for sure.”

  “Jail’s real, though, huh?”

  “Yes, but you know what? I’m a lawyer—did you know that?”

  “You are?”

  “Uh-huh. And that makes me an officer of the court. The law says you can only go to jail if you’re guilty. As an officer of the court, I pronounce you Not Guilty.”

  She lay back on her pillow, her face infinitely sad. I had said the wrong thing.

  Desperate to keep her from retreating again, I said, “Can we be friends, you and I?”

  She nodded once, vaguely, her heart not in it, just pleasing a grown-up.

  “I’ll help you no matter what, Esperanza. And I can do that because I’m a lawyer. Do you believe that?” (I’d heard that kids know instinctively when you’re feeding them bilge water, but I was gambling that it wasn’t true.)

  She nodded again. This time did I see a faint glimmer of hope? Probably not, but I bulled forward.

  “You lost a good friend when you lost Sadie, and I think you need another one. I’d like it to be me.” I had a sudden twinge. Was I being manipulative? Quickly I said, “I don’t mean you have to do anything for me or even talk to me if you don’t want to. But I want you to know you can if you like.”

  I waited a moment. “Would you like to tell me about the white thing?”

  She turned to the wall.

  “I just thought that, since you trusted Sadie with it, and I’m your friend now, that you might trust me.”

  Dead silence.

  “Okay, I understand. I was just wondering—a thing like that—what did it look like, exactly?”

  Her voice was flat, a monotone, as if she were on drugs. “Like a brain.”

  Julio came in. “You two doing okay?”

  I patted a small leg. “You know, you’ve got a terrific little girl here.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  A tiny sniff escaped the huddled-up heap on the bed—a stifled sob, I thought. Julio said, “You know what Esperanza really loves?”

  “Pizza?”

  “Besides that.”

  “Spaghetti?”

  “Besides that, too.”

  “Movies.”

  “As long as nothing awful happens to any fuzzy animal. But something else.”

  “Sea otters!”

  “Bingo! Bingo! The grand prize for Rebecca! But what I meant was, the way she really likes to look at the sea otters is from a boat. Isn’t that right, Nena?” He paused for an answer, received none, and continued undaunted in the same vein. “So guess what we’re going to do this afternoon? We’re going for a sail! That is, if Esperanza wants to—”

  He winked at me, so confident was he this was an offer she couldn’t refuse.

  And she didn’t refuse. She simply kept her own silent, ominous counsel.

  “Want to go with us, Rebecca?”

  “I don’t know. Libby and Keil—”

  “We’ll all go! It’s more fun that way—isn’t it, Nena?” Esperanza seemed interested. She didn’t face us, but she broke he
r gravelike silence: “Can Amber go, too?”

  “Amber’s grounded. Ricky came by and said—”

  She sat up, her golden face white. “What? What did she do?”

  “He wouldn’t tell us. He just said it was so bad he didn’t want to talk about it.”

  She rolled off the bed, running, but she stopped suddenly, stood a moment, and then started to fall.

  Julio moved quickly, catching her as she sank to her knees. “Head down, Nena. Head down.” To me he said, “It’s all right. It’s all right. She’s just fainted. It’s not a seizure or anything. She’s okay!” He was shouting.

  I saw that her face was sweaty now. Julio fanned her with an opened book, and elevated her feet. In a moment she woke up, and the look in her eyes said she didn’t need to go to hell to know what it was like. “You fainted again, baby.”

  She closed her eyes again, to get away, I thought. When we had put cold washcloths on her face and given her juice, we left. It seemed to be what she wanted.

  Julio stared at his aquarium, and it gave me such a start, I said, “I do that. I stare at mine when I’m upset.”

  “You have an aquarium?”

  “Saltwater tropical. Smaller than yours—only a hundred gallons.”

  “Well.” He seemed to want to smile, but couldn’t bring himself to do it right then.

  “That’s what Marty and I have in common.”

  He patted his pockets, caught himself, and looked at me sheepishly. “I haven’t done that in ten years. Haven’t smoked in twelve.”

  “I’d better go.”

  He ignored me. “She fainted once before—when Sylvia and I told her we were getting divorced.”

  A small voice interrupted. “Dad?”

  Julio and I smiled conspiratorially, two kids who’d gotten a wish.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “What time are we going sailing?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  If it had to be a sunset cruise, I was going to do one little thing first. Maybe not get Marty out of jail, but at least give her a piece of my mind. And there was one other thing I wanted to check on.

  Jacobson, apparently working all weekend, was in her office, which looked out on a little lemon grove. It was a cheerful place for such business to be conducted, very different from San Francisco’s Hall of Justice, which is gray (except for the rose marble on the first floor), urban, and all business.