Murder Came Second (7 page)

“Lately, things had been a mess, Elaine said, and blamed her brother Bobby. He didn’t want to go anywhere without Daddy, or didn’t want Mom and Sis to go along at all. He complained that Elaine and Mom didn’t want Daddy to love him anymore. Then he told her that Daddy loved him best, man-to-man, now that Elaine was getting big and grown-up like Mom. Well, you can imagine what a can of worms
that
opened up, especially when Elaine flatly and consistently denied her father had
ever
touched either her or, she was sure, Bobby, improperly.”

More commercials. No more pizza, and finally, the end of the Leonard saga.

The psychiatrist Jeff Leonard had agreed to see was never found and was thought to be a figment of Virginia’s imagination. Elaine quietly stuck to her story. Bobby stuck hysterically but vaguely to his and was thought to be lying. Medical examinations showed no signs of abuse to either child. One shrink added that Bobby had perhaps somehow seen his parents having sex and thought his father was hurting his mother, especially if she had been making moaning sounds at the time. He was simply a very sensitive child. Yeah, I’d bet. The kid looked beautiful but shifty to me. I figured him for just wanting everyone’s attention.

Virginia’s insistence that Jeff’s pat on Petey’s bottom was sexually abusive didn’t help her case. Neither did her plea that she had killed Jeff in self-defense, acting for her children who could not protect themselves. She was sent to a facility for the criminally insane, for life, such as it must have been. Solemn little Elaine and adorable blond, wavy locks Bobby were adopted—separately—in another state, and changed their names accordingly. Their whereabouts, the commentator smirked, were carefully guarded, letting us all know he could have found them if he wished.

Later, I let Fargo out for last call, and when he came in I patted his bottom. “I guess we’ll have to start watching that,” I told him.

He yawned and slurped some water onto the floor.

Friday morning I had snuck Fargo out for an early beach run and was back, sitting in the kitchen with a mug of my special Costa Rican coffee, when the phone rang. It was my mom.

After our hellos, she announced, “I’m at work. Mildred Morris was just here to drop off the monthly accounts. She looks ten years younger than she did yesterday.”

“That’s nice to hear, wish I could say the same.” Pause. Pause. “Er, is there some reason I need this information?”

“Yesterday afternoon she found two adorable kittens left on her doorstep. A note said their names were Eos and Eris.”

“What strange names!” I grinned at my mug.

“Not if you once knew a little girl who was crazy about Greek mythology,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know, I know you did it. You’re a softie and I love you. Bye.” She hung up.

Cross Mildred off the worry list. One down, one to go. The phone rang again. This time it was Cindy.

“Hi, darling! Tried you earlier, but the line was busy.”

“Yes, it was Mom.”

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, sure. She called to tell me someone left two cute kittens on Mildred Morris’s doorstep, and Mildred is recovering rapidly from Hercules’ sad disappearance.” I sipped the coffee, getting cool but still great.

“And I suppose you had nothing to do with that.” I could tell she was smiling.

“Absolutely not.”

“Alex, are you lying?”

“Absolutely.”

“I thought so. You can be quite nice on occasion. It’s why I put up with all the other times.”

“All what other times?”

“I have to get downstairs. I just wanted to let you know, we’ll be back around six or so. Choate says he will drop me off, so you don’t have to worry about fetching me from the airport.”

“I always find you fetching.”

“I’m glad. I gotta run. I love you, cat woman. Bye.”

“Me too. Bye.”

My two phone conversations gave me inspiration to do a few things around the house. How had it gotten into a mess in just one day? Fargo had tracked up the kitchen. I had duplicated him in the bathroom. The empty pizza box and a dirty ashtray plus an empty beer can decorated the coffee table. Jeez! The couch pillows were squashed. Oh, Lord, give me strength. He did, I guess, until around noon, when I said the hell with it.

I wondered how Harmon was coming along with the deck and if he would be finished by tonight when Aunt Mae returned. I hoped she would have no reason to go down to the cottage, and assumed Cindy and I would be here overnight.

I took for granted that Harmon would be lunching at the Wharf Rat Bar. Maybe I should go down and ask about his progress. That was the only reason I was going. I certainly would have preferred to stay home and have a nice cucumber sandwich and some of Cindy’s skim milk for lunch, but I really needed to know about the deck and should pay him if it were finished.

Leaving His Nibs ensconced in the shade with a bowl of water, I went inside and found a seat at the bar. Sure enough, Harmon had joined his
confreres
for luncheon and was, as usual, dominating the conversation.

“Well, o’course I ain’t no expert on cats. But they was so little and helpless . . . what you gonna do? I brought ’em in and quick-like read that little paper that came with ’em, telling you what to do with them, and we was off to a fine start.”

I began to relax and ordered lunch before I tuned back in. “Now that little cutie, Geraldine, she just curled up in my arm and looked around like a little . . . a little princess . . . and then fell right asleep. But that Tom.” He sighed deeply. “I tell you, he’s forever runnin’ up my pants leg and jumping from my lap to the table and slidin’ all over the floor.” He shook his head heavily. “He don’t give a man a minute’s rest.”

I turned to my sandwich and iced tea with a free conscience. Harmon was in love.

Shortly after six, Cindy barged through the kitchen door, dropping her suitcase, kicking off her high heels, and fending off Fargo’s exuberant greeting. I got up to kiss her hello, and she gave me a peck and pushed me away. “Don’t touch me! I’m sweaty and awful. Boston was an oven. The plane and Choate’s car were worse after being parked in the sun for hours. I hate these damn shoes. I’ve always hated these damn shoes. I think I’ll burn them. Don’t even speak to me. Just pour me something cold while I shower before I die.”

It was just Cindy letting down after two days of being terribly gorgeous and professional. I could wait. “What do you want to drink? A tall Scotch?”

“No.” She was struggling to get out of her dress, but I knew better than to help. “I’d just belt it down and be a nasty drunk, along with everything else. Iced tea is fine.” She sidled out of the kitchen, dress still over her head. I guessed she knew where she was going.

I poured two iced teas from the pitcher we kept in the fridge and added ice and lemon. Then I took her suitcase in and put it on the bed. The shower was running, and Cindy was swearing like a sailor at something.

Fargo looked at me with concern. “Don’t worry, it’s not terminal. Come on.”

We returned to the kitchen and took the iced tea glasses outdoors. Ten minutes later Cindy padded barefoot across the grass, dark curls still damp, dressed in shorts and one of my too-big T-shirts—looking about sixteen. She sank into my lap. “Hello, darling, did you miss me? I don’t know why you would.”

I kissed her and proved that I had. She sipped her tea and stood, pulling my hand to bring me up with her. “I don’t know why you came all the way out here, just to turn around and go back inside . . . at least I think the neighbors would prefer we go back inside, don’t you?”

“We must always be thoughtful of the neighbors,” I agreed and walked quickly toward the door.

Chapter 6

Fargo was a bright dog who understood many things. Being barred from the beach in summertime was not one of them. Frankly, I agreed with him. As long as we went early, left early and were diligent about poopybags, I saw no reason to deprive us of our early morning visits. Fortunately, as Sonny’s sister, I knew that any patrols passing the beach at this hour of sunup would carefully look the other way. I didn’t ride Sonny’s coattails in other ways and felt no guilt about letting Fargo get his exercise and fun, tourists notwithstanding.

Before we left, I sat down on the edge of the bed, gently patting Cindy’s cheek, risking a fast pop with a pillow. “We’re off for a lap around Race Point, honey. Want to join us?”

She snuggled deeper under the light summer quilt. “Uh-uh, but I’ll be up and running when you get back. I have a lot to do.”

That was the answer I had hoped for. I wanted her up early and over to the cottage. Harmon had told me yesterday, he’d finished the repairs and the painting. I wanted to see it—wanted her and Aunt Mae to see it.

We returned from the beach to be met at the backdoor by a whirlwind. “Hose him off if he’s sandy. What did you two do to this house? Here, these go in the car to go to the cleaners. Here’s a grocery list you can do at the same time. Actually, two of them, one list is for the cottage. I hope it’s right. I can never remember what’s where. What’s that bag?”

“That bag, my dear, holds our breakfast—delicious, nutritious Portuguese fried bread.”

“Nutritious? It should be branded with a skull and crossbones. Well, it
is
delicious. Come on, coffee’s made.”

“Thank you, kind lady. For a moment here, I was afraid we were out to beat the four-minute mile.”

We sat down to coffee and the still-warm bread. I broke mine in two and began to savor it, while Cindy nipped a tiny piece of her own. “Sorry to be in such a rush, darling. I just want to get everything done so I can relax this afternoon. You remember we’re going to Lainey and Cassie’s for drinks and dinner, to inaugurate their new dining room furniture.”

“Oh, yes, sure,” I lied. Then I remembered. “And Peter and the Wolf will be there, too.”

“Right.”

“I hope to God it works out better than the last time this six-some was together for an evening.”

Last fall, the six of us, augmented by Sonny and Trish, had gotten together here for dinner and it had been disastrous. Lainey and Cassie had started an argument that damn near got to the plate-tossing stage. Wolf and Sonny had got drunk. Sonny and Trish had a tiff over who was to drive home. Wolf and Peter had had a blazing argument over an Amelia Earhart movie, of all things. And Cindy had gotten mad at me because I’d had just enough to drink to think it was all quite funny.

“I hope so, too,” Cindy replied with a sour look. “At least Sonny won’t be leading the charge to the bar.”

“Maybe Peter and Wolf will bring some nice, sweet old movie like
Fatal Attraction
or
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf
. They’re always good for a real hoedown.”

“Oh, no. Don’t even think it.” She cocked an ear toward the laundry room. “That laundry should be almost finished. I’ll get it in the dryer and then go over to the cottage. I want to check on Wells. I know the girl who watches the shop for Aunt Mae has fed her, but that seems sort of . . . cold. She must be wondering where I am.”

“Sonny was over there on some errand.” I finished my bread and stole a small piece of Cindy’s. “Said Wells was fine. But I’ll wait and follow you over before I do errands, just to make sure everything is okay.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, darling, and if you touch that bread again, I’ll break your wrist. More coffee?”

Aunt Mae must having been watching out the window. The minute our cars pulled in, she came briskly across the lawn, wearing an accusatory little half smile and shaking her finger. “Now, Cynthia, just what have you gone and done?”

Cindy’s eyebrows went up. “Hi, Aunt Mae. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you do. And it really is my responsibility. Now just tell me what it cost and I’ll write you a check right now.” She patted the pocket of the green canvas apron she had already donned for her day in the herb shop.