Murder at Barclay Meadow (31 page)

“And now you know that isn't going to happen?”

“Yes.” I sipped more wine. “It's like he left me all over again.”

“I'm sorry.” He stroked my hair. “That must be very difficult.”

“You know what he said?” I shook my head remembering the moment. “He thanked me for being such a good sport about the divorce.”

“He's an idiot. I told you that the first time we met.”

“So it's time, right?” I finished my second glass of wine.

Nick slipped my left hand into his. “I think I know something that might help.” He looked up. “Are you ready?”

“What?” He placed his finger and thumb on my wedding ring. “What are you…?”

It came off easily. The extra pounds, I thought. It had been loose for so long, I feared I would lose it. I sucked in my breath and stared down at my naked hand, so plain and unadorned. Age spots I'd never noticed before dotted my skin. I felt vulnerable without the talisman of my ring to protect me. My phone clanged.

“You have a text message.”

“I don't care,” I said. My throat was tight, but I spoke the truth. My tie to Ed severed, my veins coursing with wine, I didn't care about anything. I was spent.

After tucking my ring into the front pocket of my jeans, he looked into my eyes. “You seem sad.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry.” He squeezed my hand. “You've been through so much.” He stood and pulled me up next to him. “It's getting chilly. Why don't we go below?”

I picked up my jacket and followed him down into the cabin. It glistened with heavily varnished honey-colored wood. I had seen this cabin before, but by the light of a flashlight months ago. I sat at the small table and Nick twisted a corkscrew into another bottle of wine.

“What about you?” I said.

“What about me?”

“Your wife. What happened?”

“She left me in September.” He pulled out the cork with a loud pop.

“Why?”

“I was having an affair.”

“With who?”

He laughed. “I don't think that's really significant. It's over now, anyway.”

“It's an epidemic,” I said. “The infidelity.”

He filled our glasses. “I was unhappy long before the affair. I don't think it was a surprise to her. And I think she's happier now without me.” He set the bottle on the table and sat next to me. “It's true for most marriages, I think. The affairs come after trouble.”

“I don't agree. I think that's what adulterers say after they've slept with someone to rationalize what they did.”

“Ah, in vino veritas,” he said.

“Well, it's true, so yes, in vino veritas.”

“I like that we are being honest with one another.”

“Me, too.” I gave him a genuine smile. “You're easy to talk to, you know that?”

“Well…” He dipped his head. “It is my profession.”

“So, in vino veritas. Who did you have an affair with? It helps me to know, Nick. I have been bowled over by my entire situation. Tell me how it came about for you.”

“Although I had a few minor affairs before, this one was different.” He took a long swig of wine. He had been matching me sip for sip so far. “She was beautiful and passionate and pursued me relentlessly. She was—”

“A student?”

His eyes flashed. “Yes. But over twenty-one.”

“This cove,” I said. “Is this where you carried on your affair?”

He leveled his eyes with mine. “Sometimes.”

“Is that how your wife knew?”

“Rosalie…”

“I told you about Ed. And you just removed my wedding ring from my finger. I believe it's your turn.”

He took another long sip. Keep it up, Nick, I thought.

“Okay,” he said. “Fair enough. But that's not how my wife learned of our affair. The girl? She emailed my wife. And she copied President Carmichael.”

“That would put an end to things pretty quickly.” I held his gaze.

He filled my glass again and I immediately took a sip. The wine was empowering me to go for it. I cleared my throat. “Why didn't Carmichael fire you?”

“Because I'm a rock star. My study is going to make me the next Kinsey.” He set his glass on the table and rolled his shoulders back. “I'll be speaking all over the country and bringing in a hell of a lot of money. Do you think they would fire me because a student overstepped her bounds?”

“How did you get her to leave you alone? Or did you keep seeing her after that?”

A loud boom resounded through the cabin.

“What the hell is that?” He bolted up the ladder. I followed. The sky glowed with a large red flame. “It's a flare,” he said. “A boater must be stranded.”

“We should help them,” I said. “Isn't that in the boaters' code of ethics?”

Nick shook his head.

“What if they're sinking?”

“You can see that flare for miles. Someone will call it in.”

The wind had picked up, carrying a metallic scent. “Is there a bathroom?” I said. “I need to pee.”

“Of course. I'll show you how to flush.”

“Isn't there just a pedal thing?”

“That's right.”

I felt immediately woozy as I descended back into the cabin. We still hadn't eaten. Nick followed and watched as I walked into the head and clicked the door closed. When I stepped out, he was standing before me, my phone gripped tightly in his palm.

“Nick?”

“You weren't texting your daughter.” His eyes smoldered under heavy lids.

I stepped back. “No.”

“Your friends are signaling you. They want you to answer their flare.” He shook his head. “Is that the best you could come up with?”

I crossed my arms. “I want to go home.”

“But you didn't learn what you were hoping to. You might as well ask. What have you got to lose?”

I looked up at him. “Did you sleep with Megan Johnston?”

“Many times,” he said.

“Why did she tell your wife? I thought she pursued you.”

“Because I wouldn't give her the internship. What else would you like to know?”

“How did she die?”

“She killed herself.” He didn't even flinch.

“I thought we were being honest.”

“What makes you think I'm not?”

“Because she didn't drown, that's why.”

He took a menacing step toward me. “Nobody cares about that anymore.”

I avoided his eyes.

“So, why do you?” he asked.

I looked up, his lids were at half mast. “Maybe I don't anymore, either.”

“Now who's lying?” He cocked his head.

“I'd like my phone back.”

He dropped it in my hand. He had powered it down. “Do those clowns in the boat know anything?”

“They know I'm here with you.”

“Accidents happen, my dear.”

The wine swirled in my gut. I placed my hands over my stomach. “I need some air.”

“Be my guest.”

I squeezed past him and hurried up the ladder. Cold wind blasted my face. A roll of thunder vibrated the hull. I looked for an escape, but all I could see was darkness—sky, land, and water bleeding into one solid black. I noticed a boat hook tucked under the bench. I dropped to my knees and tried to free it. A good jab and I could shove him right into the water.

“Stop. It's secured.”

I sat back on my knees. “There's a storm coming.”

Nick wore a yellow windbreaker over his sweater. He held a chunk of my bread in one hand and clutched a small joint in the other. After taking a long hit, he exhaled a thin stream of smoke. The ashtray, I thought. The prestigious professor smokes dope.

I stood, keeping as much distance as I could between us. I gripped the side of the boat behind my back. “I want to go home.”

His eyes darkened. “I'm sorry.”

Terror constricted my throat. I wanted to scream, but no one would hear. Is this how he killed Megan?

“You found her,” he said. “Didn't you?”

I nodded.

He held the joint out for me.

“No.”

He took another toke. “What to do?”

“My friends?” I said quickly. “They know about you.”

“I'm getting bored.” His eyes darted around the deck. He walked over to a loose line and picked it up.

My teeth chattered. I was losing control. He was going to strangle me with that line. I had to do something. “My friends won't let the sheriff overlook it another time, no matter how much of a rock star you are.” I waited a moment before showing my best weapon. “You wrote on my Facebook wall that we would be together tonight. If I die, everyone will know it was you.”

He was deep in thought. I watched him closely. If I had to, I would dive into the water. I thought about all the warnings I'd heard about the Cardigan's current. The number of drownings. I wasn't a strong swimmer. I looked out at the blackness. Where was the shore? I jumped when he started to move. He squared his shoulders, walked past me, and raised the anchor. The small motor sputtered to life, the boat jerked, we were under way at last.

I sat as far away from Nick as I could. He never took his eyes off me. His face glowed from the embers every time he took a toke. I clutched the side of the boat, willing it to go faster. Lightning flashed around us like strobe lights at a rock concert.

When we reached my dock, I jumped up. If he thought he was going to toss me in the water where Megan washed up, he had another thing coming. “Nick,” I said. “Let me past.”

“Not yet.” His windbreaker flapped in a gust of wind. Thunder bowled across the water. He grabbed my arms and shook. “Why are you messing with me?”

I steeled my eyes into his. “It's a preoccupation. Remember?”

“This isn't even close to being over.” His face was inches from mine. His breath smelled of herbs and smoke. Suddenly, he shoved me hard and I fell onto the bench. My head snapped back against the teak. “Get the hell off my boat.”

I clambered over the side of the boat and onto my dock at last. My hair whipped around my face. Huge drops of water fell out of the sky. I stood, relishing the solid footing. “She was trying to break free,” I called as I backed away. “The night she died. She was trying to break free from all of you. But she didn't get to, did she, Nick?”

“Shut up…” he roared. He slid his hand in the pocket of his windbreaker. He was holding something.

“Oh … Nick, no!” I turned and ran up the bank, fully anticipating a bullet ending my life. Rain pelted down on my skin. I stumbled and felt the cold mud soak through my jeans. I stood and continued running without looking back. My heart pounded as I burst through the back door. I turned the dead bolt and tried to catch my breath. A note on the table caught my eye. I snatched it up.

Dear Rosalie,

Thank you for all of your kindness but I have overstayed my welcome. I am feeling much better and will get back to work on Monday. I can never repay you for your generosity or for saving my finger. Your aunt was lucky to have you for a niece.

Fondly,

Tyler Wells

I clutched it to my chest. He's not here. I whirled around. Nick's sailboat glowed in the darkness. I turned off the lights in the kitchen and ran to the front door. It was unlocked. Tyler—he forgot. I flipped the dead bolt, hurried back to the living room, and switched off the table lamp. Standing behind the drapes, I peered out of the window from the darkened house. He was still there—the green and red lights of his boat staring back at me like a lurking ogre. My legs trembled. I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned it on. Nick had texted Tony from my phone.
I'm fine. Everything is good here. We're having fun so no worries. You guys can head back.
I screamed when a burst of lightning flashed. I looked back out into the night. He was gone.

 

F
ORTY
-
TWO

I awoke the next morning, passed Tyler's empty room and perfectly made bed, and showered until the hot water grew cold. I pulled on my jeans, slipped a sweatshirt over my head, and wandered aimlessly through the house. The post-Tyler silence screamed at me—I was alone once more. I went into the kitchen, glanced down at my computer, but didn't turn it on. The room was spotless. Tyler had cleaned before he left. There wasn't even a dirty coffee mug in the sink. After putting Mr. Miele to work, I fished my wedding ring out of the pocket of my jeans and raised the diamond-studded band up to the morning light, noting how the delicate stones reflected the colors of the spectrum: green, indigo, rose. Rose. That's what Ed called me now. The only person in my life to leave off the whimsical endings to my name: Rosalie, Rose Red, or simply Rosie.

I set the ring on the counter and realized I needed an occupation and began to clean. I scrubbed, scoured, and swept the entire house. I opened every window and moved every piece of furniture. I washed the wood floors and beat the rugs with a broom and didn't stop until there was nothing left to clean.

Next, I decided to empty out Charlotte's files. Although I had gone through everything about the farm, there was a lot more I hadn't sifted through. If I was going to leave this place at the end of May and move into an apartment, it would all need to go anyway.

I filled four grocery sacks with recycling. Aunt Charlotte was a true Depression baby and saved everything. She had receipts from twenty years before. I slowed when I came to a thick file labeled: History of Barclay Meadow.

The sun had set and a cool breeze blew up from the river. I closed all the windows and blinds and lit a fire. After brewing a cup of tea, I carried the file over to the sofa, snuggled under an afghan knitted by my mother, and began to read.

I was startled to see a handwritten note to me on top of the papers.