Heart-Shaped Box (Claire Montrose Series) (25 page)

Sawyer went on to flatter most of the people who were there, effortlessly weaving in everyone from the garbage hauler (“his company has tirelessly promoted recycling”) to the travel agent (“spreading some of our wealth - and along the way, our ideals - to third world countries”). He mixed the serious with the not-too, telling funny stories, like the time Alex built a working replica of a guillotine for history class and nearly severed his index finger, or the time Jim ate a cigarette butt to avoid being suspended for smoking - but then got so sick that he voluntarily gave up cigarettes for nearly a month.

Jessica was sitting between Claire and Dante, and at one point Claire’s vision focused on the other woman. She was watching Sawyer with her lips parted, her eyes soft and dreamy. Even twenty years ago, Sawyer had had that effect on women, and his rugged handsomeness probably didn’t hurt him at the polls now. Claire told herself that she would still vote for Sawyer if he were wall-eyed, fat and balding, but she had to admit that his looks and beliefs made for a pretty nice package. While she was thinking this, Sawyer went on to hit the high points of his platform (children are the future, public schools need to be fully funded, the plight of the environment can’t be ignored), without ever specifically mentioning that he was running for governor.

The finer points of the last part of his speech were lost, though, when the Minor Miner mascot appeared behind Sawyer and began waving at the crowd. People broke into laughter, and he stiffened, perplexed and nearly angry, unaware that a giant miner had appeared behind him, wearing a headlamp and coveralls and waving its enormous four-fingered hands. When he finally turned around, he abandoned his speech with good grace and led the crowd in their old cheer.

We don’t need picks,

We don’t need tools,

To beat you guys,

‘
Cause Minor rules!

Although the Minor Miner traditionally never spoke, he accompanied the chant by swinging his giant foam rubber pick up and down in a chopping motion, which the crowd accompanied with rhythmic clapping. For a moment, Claire thought of Cindy, of how she would have run to the front of the room to join Sawyer and the mascot, how she would have kicked and yelled and shaken her hips. Looking around the table, at the faltering expressions on the faces of Wade, Richard and even Jessica, she knew they were thinking the same thing, too. It was, Claire realized, easier to like Cindy now that she was dead.

After the chant was over, preparations began for the dancing. A DJ started spinning records (actual records, too, not just CDs) while the hotel staff pushed in a karaoke machine. On the low portable stage that Sawyer had just vacated, Jim began setting up amplifiers and guitars. When Dante went to the bathroom, Claire walked over to talk to Jim. They had to raise their voices to be heard over a medley of Donna Summer hits.

“
So are you going to play
Louie, Louie
tonight?”

He shrugged, but couldn’t hide his smile. Jim was always at his happiest when he was making music or making love - or just about to do either. “Wait and see. We’re not scheduled to start playing for an hour. You won’t hear none of this disco stuff, that’s for sure.” Donna Summer’s voice finished swooping through the last notes of
Bad Girls
. Jim winced when Olivia Newton-John began popping the notes on the bubble-gum sweetness of
A Little More Love
.

The Minor Miner waddled by them, high-fiving (or high-fouring) anyone who put up a hand, occasionally swinging his pick. For the most part, he was ignored, although the occasional guy would come up, knock on his foam head and wittily shout “Anybody home?”

“
I started thinking about Cindy when I saw the Miner,” Jim said. “She would have loved to have gotten up there, reliving her glory days. She would have had us all on our feet, cheering.”

There was something about his tone. “You liked her, didn’t you?”

He looked away. “Remember when we broke up?”

“
Yeah?” Ckaure drew the word out. Jim hadn’t wanted to formalize their relationship at the time by even using the term ‘break-up.’

He plucked at a string. “It was because I was starting to see Cindy.” Jim didn’t have to explain what ‘see’ meant.

Her heart constricting with an old, half-remembered pain, Claire made herself think back. “But she was dating Wade then.”

He shrugged. “It was like a secret thing for both of us. I’d park by Safeway at the end of the shopping center and she would get in my car. We would drive out to the river and go skinny-dipping. I knew she was slumming, but I didn’t care. She didn’t want anyone to know about us. Maybe her parents didn’t, and maybe the teachers didn’t, and maybe even the other girls didn’t, but I’ll guarantee some of the guys at least guessed. Cindy collected guys. She used to sing that Blondie song, you know, the one that talks about a girl putting another notch on her lipstick case.”

What a cliché
, Claire thought.
Cheerleader slash whore
.

She must have murmured the last word underneath her breath, because Jim reacted with a protest, the expression in his green eyes hardening. “She wasn’t a whore. She was just Cindy. Her dad was a doctor who was never around, even when she was really little. And when he was, he criticized her. So you could never tell her enough that she was pretty or funny or had something to say that you wanted to listen to. She needed to hear it all the time.”

It was strange to think of Cindy as vulnerable or insecure. When they were teenagers, Claire had hated Cindy for the way she picked on others, for the way she always had to be the center of attention. Now the perspective shifted. Had all Cindy’s actions been fueled by a deep insecurity?

And there was another facet to Jim’s story. Claire tilted her head to one side, thinking. “OK - so who else?” she demanded suddenly.

“
What?” She could tell Jim knew what she was asking, but he didn’t want to answer her question. He pretended to tune his guitar.

“
Who else did she sleep with?”

Grimacing, he raised his shoulders to his ears. “What does that matter?”

“
It matters because I’m beginning to doubt that the dishwasher killed Cindy. And if he didn’t - well, someone who used to sleep with her would probably have more reason to kill Cindy than someone who didn’t.”

His gaze was an inscrutable as a cat’s. “Does that mean you would put me on the list of suspects?”

Her answer came on the heels of his question. “Of course not, Jim. I know you pretty well, remember? And you would never do that. So who else?

He gave in. “I don’t know everyone besides me and Wade. There was Alex Fogel, and Brian Jones, and a couple of other guys from the football and basketball teams, I think. Oh - and once I saw her with that old buddy of yours, Logan.”

“
Logan!” Claire couldn’t believe it. In an odd way, it felt more of a betrayal than learning that Jim had slept with Cindy.

“
Cindy always liked a walk on the wild side. The best way to get her to do something was to tell her that she shouldn’t or she couldn’t.”

Claire hardened herself. “Do you know of anyone else?”

“
I’m sure there were, but I don’t know anyone else for sure. From the way she talked, I think she was even sleeping with one of her parents’ friends. Some older guy that would really get in trouble if anyone found out about them. A little taste of forbidden fruit.” He looked at her with flat eyes and she could tell that he was angry with her. “Does it make you feel better, knowing all that?”

She answered him honestly. “No. But don’t you care if the wrong person is in jail for killing Cindy?”

“
If it’s the wrong person, then yeah, sure I care. But you asked me the wrong question.” His finger slid down a string until it made a low squeal. “You should have asked if I want to see the right person in jail.” Before she could answer him, he turned around, set the guitar down and walked away, pushing through the wine-red curtain that hid the service entrance.

Claire stared after him, unsure of his meaning. In the back of her mind, though, she counted the reasons to link Jim with the crime. He had once been Cindy’s lover. And he had disappeared for a while after they found the body. Had he been disposing of Cindy’s wallet in the casino’s dumpster? And, she realized, there was yet another reason to wonder if Jim was involved. Cindy’s body had been found less than thirty feet from his car. Was that more than just a coincidence?

An arm slipped around her waist. She turned. Dante.

“
That Jim of yours didn’t look too happy.”

“
You know he’s not ‘my Jim.’ But yeah, you’re right. He thinks I’m asking too many questions about who might have killed Cindy.”

“
What did he tell you?”
“That Cindy slept around, which wasn’t really a surprise. She slept with him, though, and I didn’t know that.”

Dante shrugged one shoulder. “Does that really matter now?”

“
Sure it does. Someone who once had an intimate relationship with her would probably be more likely to kill her than a stranger, don’t you think? And it sounds like she went through boys like scratch paper, so one of them might still be mad about being treated that way.”

“
Who were some of the other guys?”
“Besides Jim and Wade, Jim said Alex Fogle - that guy from breakfast, remember? - and some other guys from the football and basketball teams.” Claire looked down at her feet. “And maybe Logan, once.” When she looked up, Dante was watching her intently.

“
Sounds like she had her fingers in every pie of yours. Does that make you dislike her more?”

“
What - are you looking at me as a suspect?” Then she turned serious. No,” Claire heard her own answer with surprise, “I guess I’m starting to understand Cindy a little better. I think she was one of those people who lived all on the surface, but underneath she was lonely.”

BWHO UR

Chapter Twenty-nine

During a break in Jim’s set - which had had everyone on their feet, cheering - the DJ put on
Chuck E’s in Love
. Even thought it wasn’t really a slow song, Dante pulled her into his arms and out onto the dance floor anyway. “Has anyone told you anything interesting about what really might have happened to Cindy? Or have you overhead anything?” she asked him.

“
No, but I didn’t know you needed me to be snooping.”

“
You’re an outsider here. People might talk more freely in front of you. Kind of like they do in front of a waiter or behind the bus driver. I’ve already noticed that when I join a group, people tend to switch subjects.”

“
You’re not exactly subtle, though, are you? You’ve already told a bunch of people that you don’t think the dishwasher did it. Well - who else does that leave? Only the people in this room. They might resent the fact that you suspect them.”

“
But I don’t suspect all of them.” Dante pulled back to look at her better and Claire laughed. “All right, I don’t suspect three or four. You, for instance. I’m pretty sure
you
didn’t do it. But it seems like a lot of other people could have. I wish I were a pillar or one of these stuffed cactuses or even that guy over there with the camera - something or somebody no one pays any attention to.” She pulled Dante back so that they avoided running into the lumbering mascot. He was moving blindly and slowly around the room, pausing every now and then to wave enthusiastically and totally cluelessly. “He reminds me of a presidential candidate,” Claire whispered to Dante.

“
I don’t think the mascot can hear you,” Dante said in a normal voice. “He’s got all that padding around his head.” The Minor Miner stopped waving for a moment and turned his big pasted-on felt eyes in their direction.

“
You just gave me an idea. Do you have some money - ideally four or five twenty dollar bills - that I can have?” That was the nice thing about going to an event like this. Claire didn’t need to worry about carrying a purse, since everything was already paid for and Dante was keeping the hotel card key in his wallet.

“
Yeah. I’m afraid to even ask why.” He pulled five twenties from his wallet and handed them to her anyway.

She tore each bill down the middle.

“
What did you do that for?”

“
I plan on appealing to the oldest human emotion - greed.”

###

The high school kid wearing the Minor Miner costume hadn’t been able to resist the lure of $100 - even if he only got half of it right away, stuffed into his four-fingered fist. She told him he would get the other half if he let her wear the costume for the rest of the night, and after a moment of silence, he had nodded his giant head.

He had retrieved his things and a big, lightweight black box from the janitor’s closet, then met Claire and Dante in their hotel room as they had arranged. The Minor Miner went into their bathroom, and a skinny high school kid with a buzz cut and a pierced nose and wearing jeans and a T-shirt came out, carrying the costume in his arms. He wouldn’t hand it over until Claire had promised not to talk while wearing the costume, never to act out of character, not to lose or damage any part of the outfit, and at the end of the night to leave the costume, in its trunk, with the front desk. Only then did he set the costume on the bed (all of it neatly folded, with the exception of the head and foam rubber pick), and hold out his hand for the other halves of the bills.