Past Malice

by Dana Cameron

  But it wasn’t real money; the furniture itself was generic modern Colonial Revival. In fact, I realized that the television was the only truly expensive thing in the room; the antiques weren’t valuable, although they were arranged to give that impression. The longer I looked, the more I saw that there was a lot of taste but not a lot of cash in that room, besides the television.

  And people who are confrontational to begin with don’t usually back off because they are in the middle of a conflict. Claire shouldn’t have been subdued by the violence of our meeting; she was in the right, she was safe with her dogs, and I posed no obvious threat. She should have been in her element. No, it must be something else.

  Something else that scared her.

  I tried to think back over our conversation to pinpoint where the shift had occurred. I returned to the kitchen and inspected the view from the window over the sink. I touched the neatly folded dishtowel next to the sink: it was still damp. Perhaps this is where Claire had been when she first saw me in her yard. She would have seen…I let my eyes unfocus, trying to imagine what Claire would have seen. As she dried dishes or washed the counters, glancing out the window at her expensive view, Claire would have been startled to see a figure coming up over the cliff, beyond the fence that delineated her domain. She would have watched as I tried, twice, to hop the fence, seen me hesitate as I got my bearings. Perhaps that’s when she put down her towel, folding it automatically, and came outside. She would have seen me begin to beat it for the far side of the yard, toward the safety of the public road and then she might have realized that the dogs had also detected me and begun their race. She begins to run, I hit the fence, the dogs corner me, she arrives in time to keep them from playing too roughly. Fine, at this point, she’s still defensive, she’s confrontational, she’s still Claire as I’ve gotten to know her.

  I gripped the sink, trying to remember how the conversation went. She demands to know what I’m doing there. I tell her I came over the cliff, she gets angry about the police coming over here—why was that? And we didn’t keep talking about that, despite how angry that made her. She asked why I was shivering, I said I’d been stranded in a boat that was full of fuel and climbed out….

  No. I told her I’d borrowed Aden Fiske’s boat. That’s when things changed. She’d gone positively pale when I mentioned Aden’s name. Aden, who she thought was my boss. I wonder whether—

  “Here we are!”

  I jumped, then sighed deeply. Claire had appeared suddenly from the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the wall-to-wall carpeting. My already overextended nerves were not up to any more surprises.

  “I had to find another bottle of hydrogen peroxide. It’s like the kids drink it or something, we go through so much of it so quickly. Maybe you’d better….” She proffered the bottle and some cotton balls to me.

  I poured a little of the liquid onto the cotton, gritted my teeth, and dabbed it onto my other hand. My eyes welled up and I blinked tears away, taking a deep breath. “Man, that stings,” I said, watching the foam subside. I did the other hand, and it was no more fun than the first. At least the scrapes were clean for now.

  Claire put the first aid box onto the counter, opened it, and handed me some bandages. I tried to pull the paper wrapper apart at the edges, but my fingers were shaking too hard to get it on the first try. I noticed how dry my mouth was. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

  She hesitated, then got a bottle from the fridge and poured me a glass. I could tell she wasn’t keen on the idea of me prolonging my visit.

  “Thanks.” I took a sip, then surprised myself by drinking half of it at once. “That’s good. I appreciate the Band-Aids. I suppose I’ve got to go tell Aden what’s happened.” I watched her. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

  “Why not?” She refilled my glass, her face quite blank.

  “Well, I borrowed his boat this morning, and now I’ve got to tell him I had to jump ship, leaving his boat full of gasoline out there. And a life preserver. Odds are, he won’t let me borrow anything again.” I smiled weakly.

  “I’m sure that—” She looked about nervously, and I wondered what she was so sure of.

  “I was kidding,” I said. “It’s just that no one likes to pass on bad news.”

  “But I’m sure…he’ll…I mean, it was an accident, after all. You couldn’t have known the boat was going to…was…that you’d have trouble. He can’t blame you for that.”

  “I’m sure he won’t—”

  “It wasn’t your fault. In fact, it might be his fault! He shouldn’t have been letting you use the boat if there was something wrong with it.”

  “I’m sure it was an accident,” I said. An accident on his part, anyway: Those holes were deliberately punched into the fuel tank. But trust Claire Bellamy to take comfort in finding fault in the matter. “It’s just that we’ll have to notify the Coast Guard, so they don’t freak out if someone finds the boat empty. I’m sorry, I’m just completely worn out. I should be going now. Thanks again for your help.”

  “Certainly. I…good luck with the, ah…” She gestured across the street, toward the Chandler House and I thought she was going to say, “Good luck with telling Aden,” but she paused. “Good luck with the, ah, dig.”

  I whipped my head around, tact and discretion burned away by the adrenaline. “The dig?” I barely managed to keep the surprise out of my question.

  “Yes, isn’t that what you call it?”

  “Yeah, I guess….” She was wishing me luck with the dig, the thing that was the blot on her social landscape? The thing that was robbing her of sleep and adding to the density of noisome tourists? “I guess…we’ll be back at work tomorrow, if the police say it’s okay.”

  “Yes, the police.” She seemed to consider, then spoke in a rush. “Well, it would probably be a nuisance for you to fill up your holes and everything, so you shouldn’t worry about that for the weekend. I mean, you really can’t see so much of it from here, and we’ll just whisk people inside and out to the back.”

  I couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d suddenly grown a second head. “I…appreciate that. It certainly makes my life easier.” I decided to make a run for it, before she changed her mind again. “Thanks again.”

  I walked down the steps and hurried out the side gate, all too aware that Monet and Matisse had lifted their heads to watch my departure. I held my breath until I was safely on the other side of the gate and the latch dropped down, equally aware that Claire Bellamy was watching me too. I sensed rather than heard the kitchen door close silently behind me.

  As I crossed the road to the Chandler House, I could see that Daniel was talking to Aden in the parking lot. “—been threatening to do it for ages. I just hope you mean it this time.”

  “Trust me, Daniel.” Aden ground out the cigarette he’d been smoking.

  Doubt was written large on Daniel’s face. He saw me coming toward them, gave me an odd look, and took my arrival as an excuse to cut the interview short. Aden’s face flickered annoyance and then slid smoothly into a welcoming smile. It was so quick a transformation that it was barely noticeable. Then his smile faltered and turned into a worried frown when he saw that I was soaked through and my hands were covered in Band-Aids. “Emma, what happened to you?”

  “There was…someone punched a hole in one of your fuel tanks. I had to ditch it off the Bellamy’s property. I’m sorry, Aden.”

  “How could that have happened?”

  “Aden, I think someone stuck a screwdriver or something through the tank on purpose. When the first one was empty, I switched over, and after I opened the vent, it began to spill out. It’s anchored out there but have you got any idea who might have—?”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Emma, I’m very sorry that this happened. I can’t imagine how it might have…all I can think of is that a lot of unsavory things happen down at the marina. Perhaps it was just vandalism, perhaps it was something directed at me. I don
’t know, maybe I took someone’s parking space inadvertently. It’s equally possible that someone tried to sabotage someone else’s launch but got mine instead. I’m only sorry that it happened to you. Are you all right? Nothing broken, nothing…irreparable? How did you get ashore, if you ditched by the Bellamys?”

  “I climbed up the cliff.”

  “My God.” He stepped back. “But then, how did you get past those two dreadful dogs, what are they, Mamet and Baudelaire?”

  How strange. Someone like Aden would make a point of learning the names of the dogs, I felt sure of it. It felt like he was playing for time. “Monet and Matisse. I didn’t get past them.” I shivered. “But Claire got to me in time, though she claims they wouldn’t have done any damage, that they were just playing.” I looked him straight in the eye. “She was surprisingly nice about the whole thing, once she’d heard what happened. She even wished me luck with the dig. I suppose I have you to thank for that?”

  He shrugged. “No, not at all. I had a chat with her; I think we’ve reached a sort of détente, in the matter of the dig. But she should be nice, that’s only what neighbors should do.”

  “I think we should call the Coast Guard, shouldn’t we?”

  “Yes, and then I’m going straight to the marina, to see if I can’t get some answers to this. But,” he looked at me, “maybe you need to get to the hospital? Let me take you there now.”

  “No, no, I think I’m all right. Only tired and shaken. I just want to go home and take a bath. Maybe take a nap.”

  “Maybe take a Valium,” Aden agreed. “Good God, what a morning. You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Valium sounded like a nice idea, but it wasn’t actually part of my medicine chest. Aden came up with it pretty casually, though.

  “Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Take good care of yourself. We don’t want anything to happen to you before the end of the dig.”

  “Thanks, Aden.”

  He walked me over to the car and waited patiently while I got the key into the lock. I sat down, frowning at the cold fabric chafing against my skin. I waited until he returned to his office, and then went to see if Detective Bader was still on the site. He was, but when I gestured to talk to him, I realized that we would be directly beneath Aden’s window. The curtain moved, so I suggested we go away from the crime scene to talk.

  “What happened to you?”

  I told him the story and he frowned. “I’ll look into this. I don’t like the way things are going around here. You’re not badly hurt?”

  “No, but I’d like to get going and change out of these things.”

  “Sure. Let’s fill out a report too, when you’re feeling up to it. I’ll let you know if I find anything. Just…be careful.”

  I nodded and thanked him. Back in the car, and functioning on autopilot now, I pulled out of the parking lot. I got about two blocks along when I had to pull over, just for a minute, because another fit of the shakes came over me. I rested my head on the steering wheel and took some deep breaths until I thought I could drive again.

  I sat up, turned the key in the ignition, and frowning, turned it off again. I lifted my foot from the brake and shifted, awkwardly resting it on the passenger side seat so that I could examine my leg. Okay, I wasn’t seeing things. I reached down and poked at the four little tears in the bottom of the leg of my jeans, just above the ankle. Playing, my ass, I thought. Those dogs play rough.

  I turned again, squelching against the vinyl seat, and hit the ignition. Claire had been scared into concern and politeness, and I was beginning to suspect that it was Aden Fiske who had scared her. I didn’t know what was going on, I thought as I pulled off the verge, but it was big enough to involve sabotage and the possibility of death. Whatever it was, one thing was for sure. I was done with the eighteenth-century point of view for a while. No more messing around in boats.

  Chapter 9

  I PULLED UP INTO THE DRIVE OF THE FUNNY FARM TO see the students more or less doing as I’d asked. They were sitting outside with their dishpans full of water, washing sherds. I noticed that they’d taken some of the sawhorses to serve as drying racks, setting window screens up on them. I noticed with some jealousy that they’d had lunch and the drinkers had had beers. Sitting in the sun, laughing, nattering on, and working, they all looked pretty normal. And there was little or no chance that I could sneak past them without revealing that I was soaking wet. I was just glad that Brian wasn’t home to see me like this.

  I got out of the car and tried to keep my demeanor as careless as I could. “Hey guys. How’s it going?”

  They all looked up and waved. Joe frowned. “Emma, what happened to you?”

  “I took a swim.”

  “You took a swim.” Bucky stood up, looking like she’d bitten into tinfoil, pained and disbelieving.

  “Yep. Pretty embarrassing.”

  “Yeah, but how’d that happen?” I noticed that Meg was looking at my hands, which I stuffed into my pockets.

  “I was motoring past the Chandler House and Aden’s fuel tank sprang a leak. I decided not to stick around. Man, was that water cold.”

  “Not exactly the best time for swimming in New England,” Dian said.

  “I wasn’t under the impression that there was a good time for swimming in New England. Brian goes to the beach only for the sun; he wouldn’t get near the surf if you paid him. It’s that thin Californian blood of his,” I said. “Let me get changed, and then I want to take a look at what you’ve got done today.”

  I thought I’d made it into the house without further comment, but then didn’t hear the door slam behind me. My sister had followed me into the kitchen, and she had been followed by Meg. When Bucky realized that she wasn’t alone with me, she gave Meg a guarded and irritated look. Meg returned the favor. I realized that each of them, based on our previous history together, believed that she was one who might be able to get the full story from me.

  “I’ll be down after I grab a shower,” I said, but I was mistaken if I thought that would put either of them off.

  “What happened out there, Emma?” Meg said. Bucky glared at her.

  I dropped my bag onto the kitchen table and began to head upstairs. “I’m freezing. We can talk after I get changed.”

  “You never would have put out without checking everything first,” Bucky said, following me. I might have been able to put Meg off, but apparently Bucky still thought that she had the right to follow me into my bedroom more than ten years after I left the family home. My sopping sneaker laces seemed all but welded together, but I finally managed to work them apart. I pulled off my wet things, down to my underwear. My socks landed with a wet squish on the floor.

  Bucky sat on the bed as I gathered up my clothes. “So?”

  I ignored her and shut the door to the bathroom, stripping down—where to put the wet clothes? The laundry basket wasn’t the place for them and I was about to use the tub; I settled for dumping them onto the closed toilet seat cover. I got the shower going and took a minute to check the bandages on my hands. I’d have to chuck them and then replace them after I got done washing up. I hopped into the shower, immediately grateful to feel how hot the water was; the linoleum floor had been no comfort to my cold feet. As I stood there, letting myself warm up again, I heard the door open and close.

  I stared at the tiles in front of me. “Bucky, go away.”

  “Not until you tell me what happened today.”

  The tiles were in good shape, but the grout needed work. “Could I just have a minute?”

  “Sure. You’ve got a minute, and then I call up Brian to see if you told him anything.”

  I stuck my head out around the shower curtain to glower at Bucky. She’d dumped my wet clothes onto the floor and was sitting on the toilet seat, using my hand mirror to check for blemishes on her face. She put the mirror down when it became too clouded to see anything.

  “I mean, you guys tell each other everything, right?” The litt
le wretch had the audacity to pull the wide-eyed innocent look that hadn’t worked on me or anyone else with sense for years. “No secrets from each other, right?”

  “I haven’t had the chance to call Brian,” I said. I pulled myself back around the curtain and into the shower; I was still raisin-fingered and wrinkly, but far less shivery. I washed my hair and began to soap off, not because I was dirty, but just out of habit: that’s what you do in the shower. “I’ll tell him when he gets home; I’ve got work to get finished up today.”

  “I’ll call him, then. He’d want to know.”

  Shit. I turned off the shower and stood there. “Go get me my robe, would you?”

  I heard the door open and shut again and grabbed a towel. I blotted my scrapes carefully and had replaced the antiseptic and the bandages by the time that Bucky got back with my robe. Snatching it away from her, I pulled it on over my towel and found another towel to start work on my hair. Bucky sat herself down on her throne again, this time using my razor to get rid of a few stray hairs around her ankle.

  “Stop that.” I took the razor away from her and went back into my room. “Jesus.”

  She followed me. “Well?”

  “There was a hole punched into the spare gas tank. I wasn’t about to start the engine again and I wasn’t going to just sit there, so I ended up climbing up some rocks to safety.” No sense telling her about the dogs and Claire, I reckoned.

  “So you don’t think the punctured tank was meant for you?”

  I stopped looking for clean underwear. “Of course not. It was some stupid prank, something that someone did down at the marina. Maybe Aden pissed someone off. Maybe it was just something that someone was doing because they were taking it out on the Stone Harbor Historical Society. It was nothing to do with me. How could it have been? No one knew I was going to use that boat.”

  “Except for Aden.”