Billie nodded acknowledgment.
“Can I help you?” Emma’s voice was strong and level as she stood in the open door of her office. Billie had no idea how long she’d been watching. She was carrying her briefcase. “Is there a problem?”
“I—she—I want to hire her but she’s refusing! She doesn’t like me—the Tassios poisoned her against me. I have money—oh, not enough for his kind, for his family, for his mother, but enough for you! I have to find him! Isn’t that your job? I’ll die if I don’t find him soon. He ruined my life—I never finished college because of him. He owes me.”
“I’m sorry, but perhaps we could discuss this another time?”
Emma moved toward the wild-eyed woman. Zack stood, too, looking temporarily benign, permanently large and powerful. “Right now is not a good time for us and you look as if perhaps you should think this through first, decide if you truly want to—”
“You’re brushing me off, too? You’re detectives! What kind of game is this? ‘Come back some other time’—who are you kidding? The time is today. Today. The anniversary of our last time together and I’m bleeding inside and all I ask is a little help.”
“Ah, Emma, this is Yvonne.… She’s looking for Stephen Tassio?”
Emma’s right eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly.
Yvonne spoke right through Billie’s words. “You were with his parents, you were at his work—you’re after Stephen, too, but you don’t know him the way I do. I could help you. I know where he must be. Last chance—will you or won’t you?”
Emma took a deep breath. “Won’t. Will not. Clear enough? Now, our business here is over.” Billie, Emma, and Zack advanced like a V-shaped weapon aimed at Yvonne.
“I won’t forget this!” Yvonne screamed as she backed out the door. “Don’t think I will!” Her voice shook and dimmed as she walked down each stair, but she never stopped talking. “I don’t need you, never did—I just wanted to make it easier, give you a chance, too—but now…whatever happens—it’s your fault!”
Emma looked taller than usual, muscles on alert. “Not good,” she said. “She’s hell-bent on proving something today. She could kill herself, kill him, or kill an innocent bystander.”
She meant Penny. The most likely innocent bystander. Billie felt her pulse in her throat. “She has no idea where he is, that’s why she followed me all day. Process of elimination, but now, she’s going to the beach, I bet. All that talk about their last rendezvous.”
“If he’s anywhere near it, he’s both a fool and god-awful easy to ID in a hearse.”
“He wouldn’t go back to the same place with his new girl, would he? Even if it’s his buddy’s place?”
“We don’t know him. Don’t know if he gives the place special significance, and she’s crazy,” Emma said. “Yvonne’s seeing patterns where there aren’t any. There’s no point calling the police about a skinny girl who’s angry, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t big trouble. I’m really worried about Penny. She’s in the way. In Yvonne’s way. Hurry—maybe we can still see her, follow her.”
As they raced down the stairs, Billie thought hard, willed herself back to her front door, at Yvonne’s car parked across the street. God knows, she’d stared at it long enough, remaining on her doorstep, watching until there was no trace of the madwoman. “A little wagon,” she said. “Black, maybe. I don’t know what make. Sorry.”
“Maybe a straight line isn’t the fastest way this time,” Emma said. “Maybe following an unknown car driven by an unstable woman to an unsure destination is how we’ll actually find Penny Redmond.” She glanced at Billie. “Alive. Maybe. If we hurry.”
Twenty-Three
Penny sat at the top of the stairs, too furious to go into “their” bedroom where the only roommate she had left was the scowling, brown-eyed hawk. She couldn’t believe Stephen could dump her and leave her and go off to the beach alone. As if she were nothing more than a chore he couldn’t wait to finish.
He hadn’t even asked her to feed Morgana, like she wasn’t grown-up or responsible enough to trust. Not that she wanted to touch a frozen rodent, or get near the creature whose look always struck fear in her, as if it really was from the Middle Ages, looking out from behind eyes that had hated what they’d seen for seven centuries.
But all the same, she wasn’t a baby, incompetent, unreliable, irresponsible—and she wasn’t to be treated like one.
And now what was she supposed to do? They didn’t want her here, but she had nowhere else to go. No money. And Stephen didn’t care. All he’d said was, “Go back to school. Get control of your life so you can do what you want to.” Easy for him to say, but impossible to do. But that was his complete conversation, except for, “You are not my permanent responsibility. I wanted to bail you out, not make you my foster child.”
She closed her eyes, still mortified by the memory of those words. His voice had been flat. A robot’s.
Now he was gone, off with his sleeping bag and camping gear. He hadn’t even told her where he was headed. And here she was, at the top of the staircase, listening to the rest of them, like a kid eavesdropping on the grown-ups’ party. Somebody—Alicia maybe, she was the one who sounded like an opera singer when she got loud—said “With her!” in a way that made Penny know they were talking about her. About her staying here while Stephen wasn’t because three of them were leaving for the long weekend. Some big deal event in Phoenix, something called Estrella. A tourney, she thought. Big-time, between two kingdoms. Camping out for two nights, and Kathryn, Alicia, and Toto were going, trying to talk Gary into coming, too, even though he thought he was getting the flu. Their excited voices tried to sell him the idea.
And then a low murmur and back to the her. Why were they so concerned? What did it hurt if she stayed in Stephen’s room?
She should kill herself. Solve everybody’s problems at once. Then they’d all feel sorry about how they’d treated her, and they’d deserve to.
The phone rang—only once before it was answered by somebody speaking too softly for her to hear. She moved down, step by step, in a crouch, minimizing if not eliminating the staircase creaks.
“Kathryn Meyers here.” She sounded very official, businesslike. Nothing like the vamp she was around Stephen.
Whoever was on the other line must have done some talking, because she just kept going “uh-huh,” to show she was listening, until finally she said, “He isn’t here right now. Could I take a message?”
Then the call was about Stephen. But what could have needed verification?
“I see. Well, I don’t really know. Maybe Point Reyes. But he said to leave messages at a place in Stinson. Here’s the number.”
Kathryn knew where he was. He’d told her. Told everybody except Penny. Left them a way he could be reached, left Penny in the dark, like she was the same as his insane ex-girlfriend. She wanted to cry—and to kick somebody at the same time. She wanted to hurt all of them, all at once, for how much they were hurting her.
“What are you doing?” Toto, usually silent and smiling, looked up the stairs. “Eavesdropping?” He seemed incredulous, like nobody he’d ever known would do such a thing.
“Sitting here, that’s all.”
Still looking in shock, he went back into the living room, where the phone and everybody else was. Then Alicia appeared at the foot of the stairs. “There’s no use pretending you weren’t there the whole time. Come down and let’s work things out.”
Penny had the sense of being called into a courtroom with a small jury ready to send her to the gallows.
“Come on, Penny.” Alicia sounded tired.
She hadn’t realized she wasn’t moving. Her brain and body weren’t working together anymore. “I’m—“ Sorry had almost emerged from her mouth, but it would have been a lie and she swallowed it. This wasn’t something she was doing to them, this was something they’d done to her.
“I know you’re disappointed,” Alicia said. “But don’t act like a stubborn
child. Come downstairs and talk it out.”
She wondered if they had any idea of how many times they used “child” or “baby” or “infant” when they spoke to her, if they realized what a constant insult it was. But she went downstairs.
“So you heard us,” Kathryn said when she came in. “Heard the phone call.”
“I— It was an accident, but—you weren’t supposed to do that. I mean isn’t that the whole thing, keeping it a secret?”
Kathryn looked bored and disgusted. “It was the police, all right?”
“How do you know? Anybody could pretend to be the police, all they have to do is find you, or whoever’s listed in this house.” They weren’t only mean, they were stupid.
Kathryn sat down on the green armchair. Its side was yellow where the sun had baked it. Rolled-up sleeping bags and bulging duffels were piled near the fireplace. They probably had all kinds of medieval gear in there—eating bowls and garb along with modern inventions like toilet paper. Penny considered it hypocritical to live in both centuries at the same time.
“It was not Yvonne,” Kathryn said as if each word was a boulder she had to hoist. “I can tell Yvonne from the police. And why do I have to explain anything to you? You’re the one he didn’t want to have that number. How much did you hear?”
Penny tilted her chin up, and looked into the distance. She’d heard everything, but she wasn’t on trial and she didn’t have to answer.
“If we don’t get on the road soon, we might as well not go,” Toto said. “We won’t get there until it’s half over at this rate. You coming, after all, Gar?”
The scarecrow shook his head. “Feel like hell, man. Just want to sleep.”
“If Gary changes his mind and goes, you’ll be here all alone,” Alicia said, but not like she cared. “Will you be okay?”
If she was so concerned, she could ask her to go along. It wasn’t like they didn’t know she was interested, and she could have faked a costume out of tablecloths or pieces from the fabric store. They could have included her, but that idea had never occurred to them.
“I get it,” she said. “You’re afraid I’ll steal the silver.” A joke, but nobody laughed. There was nothing in the house worth taking, except the computers, and she wasn’t a thief in the first place. “Or I’ll have a keg party, or play with matches and set the place on fire. Why do you treat me like I’m a disease?”
“Did you— How much did you hear of the telephone call?” Kathryn asked again.
“Kath, that isn’t important. Can we get on with the packing?” Toto said.
Penny said nothing. Let them worry about whatever they imagined. That she’d stalk him the way Yvonne was. That she’d tell Yvonne where he could be reached. Whatever they were afraid of, let them keep the fear. They let her keep hers.
“Okay, listen, that isn’t the point, anyway.” Alicia’s mouth was tight, as if holding in something, but she kept talking, looking like a stranger. “You might as well know now. The thing is, Stephen isn’t coming back.”
“Not coming back when?”
“Ever.” Alicia’s face was all downward curving lines. “He felt too strung-out to face a scene with you, so he’s waiting till later to tell you on the phone.”
“What do you mean, later?” Penny felt like a kid on the schoolyard, spinning until she was sick. She could see only a blur where they were, mouths speaking an unknown tongue. “When is ‘later’?”
“Who knows? Whenever. That’s not the point.”
“Where is he going? Where has he gone?”
“I’m not talking about a side trip like this weekend. He’s moving out. He is not going to live here anymore. He doesn’t feel safe here and it’s gotten too…I know you understand, even if you’re pretending you don’t. He’s gone. History.”
“Without…” She couldn’t finish that in front of them. Without telling her? What had happened to his code of honor, to the idea of living chivalrously in the way the Middle Ages tried to be? “I don’t believe you. He’s not like that. You’re lying, taking advantage of me while he’s at the beach.”
“Ah,” Alicia said. “You heard everything, didn’t you? But the point is, we’re going to need a new housemate because we need the rent money, so you have to find another place. Soon. After this weekend, we’d like to start cleaning up.”
Toto, looking relieved, as if someone had just lifted Penny off his back, stood up and waved good-bye. “More packing to do,” he said softly.
“The bird,” she heard herself say, of all stupid things. She didn’t even like the hawk, but it was so much Stephen’s. “He would never leave Morgana.”
“We’ll get the bird to him when he has a new address, which won’t be for a few days at least.”
They had excluded her while they plotted against her. Even Stephen. She had a sharp pain in her center, the way, she was sure, it feels when your heart breaks. “What do you want me to do?” she said, hating that her voice trembled, that she couldn’t look directly at them because they’d see she was crying. She sat, head bowed, and heard shuffling feet, a soft “okay,” and thought she might now be alone, so she looked up.
Alicia hadn’t gone. They had silently chosen her to handle things because they all thought she was good at things like this. When she spoke, her voice was soft. A “real Mommy” voice, Wesley would call it, because he divided their mother into the “real” and the “mean” and only the soft, considerate version counted with him as “real Mommy.” She blinked even harder, thinking of him.
“Go home, Penny,” Alicia said gently. “Finish school. Give yourself a break.”
“I can’t. I can’t stand it there.”
“At school?”
“No. Home.”
“Did they do something bad to you?”
“Yes. No. Not the way you probably mean. Maybe. He hits us and my mom. It’s awful.”
“If you’re being abused there are agencies that will help you, and there’s the police. They’ll stop him.”
Penny shook her head. “I can’t do that. If they take him away, then how will my mother live? Or Wesley?” She shook her head again. “I can’t get rid of one bad thing and make another bad thing happen. I had to leave—and I have to figure out how to make Wesley safe now, too.”
Alicia was silent for a while. “Well, then,” she eventually said, “what you want is to find out where you really belong. You know it isn’t here.” Penny had to strain to hear past the growing roar in her ears. “I’m sorry for what you thought Stephen was offering and what he really was, but that’s how it is. You have to pay more attention to real life.”
A fine thing to say for a woman going off to live in the Dark Ages. Penny silently stared at her own fingers.
“We’re going to Arizona,” Alicia said. “It’s an annual war—well, you know. Stephen isn’t joining us, in case that’s what you’re thinking. He’s too nervous about being in such an obvious place.” She sighed. “We’ve gone the last few years, so Yvonne would expect him there. Anyway, we have to get on the road. Why don’t you take the long weekend—all of it—to give this some thought? It’ll be quiet here, and maybe that’ll be good. You know, helpful.”
And all Penny could do was nod, and then, because she couldn’t really agree, because the downward movement of the nod dumped her onto the hard surface of the nothing ahead, she heard herself say it again, even though it annoyed Alicia. Annoyed everybody, and she didn’t know why. It was an honest question and she needed an answer. “What am I supposed to do?”
Alicia’s tone changed. “Anything,” she said sharply. “Anything except look dazed and made of stone. Do something. Grow up. Decide where you want to be down the road, then think of what you need to do to get there. What do you want, Penny? You only talk about what you don’t want.” She exhaled loudly, like somebody fresh out of patience. “I have to finish packing.” The voice that was always so controlled that Penny thought she was a serenity phony was now sharp-edged and mean. Alicia’
s real self, finally out, but only for Penny. Only for the scapegoat.
“If you decide to leave before we get back, don’t forget to feed the bird first and lock up. You can put the key under the back-door mat.” She turned and shook her head and put her hands out, palms up, conceding to a horrible but inescapable fate. “If it will help you find a place, or whatever you need, use my car. The key’s on the table there. Just be sure it’s back before I am. Gas tank at the level you find it, too, please.”
Penny started to thank her, but she was gone, as they all would be soon, as Stephen already was.
And now Penny was supposed to do something. Whatever it was that would get her where she wanted to be. She stayed on the flowered sofa and wondered where that was and what she’d have to do. It felt like having her brain roll into a brick wall until it split open. But even so, it was less painful than thinking about what Stephen had done to her.
Twenty-Four
There weren’t many cars making the trek to the coast at this hour of a late February afternoon when fog dripped down the crevasses of the mountain, boding low visibility on the ocean side. It had been so beautiful inland, earlier. Hot, even.
Billie half wished for the bumper-to-bumper traffic of a sunny weekend day. It would be something to talk about, at least. The silence in the car was strained, and since Emma made no attempt to turn on her radio and provide alternative sound-cushioning, Billie didn’t suggest it, either.
Forget small talk. They’d exhausted the potentials of the foggy tendrils. They’d speculated on just how bad it’d be on the beaches, commented on the microclimates of Marin and how amazingly different one area could be from another, talked about the need to dress in layers, said how nice it was that at least it didn’t snow—except on such rare occasions they made headlines—although the torrential rains could be horrifying enough. Not to mention, they mentioned, the summer fires that would be the end result of all the rain-encouraged vegetation. And then, having explored the farthest limits of local weather-talk, they lapsed into uncomfortable silence.
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