Pall in the Family (16 page)

We were met by a loud babble of voices at the door.
There were arms hugging us and questions being asked and it took me a moment to realize who was in my house. My father had been listening to the police band again. He said if my mother can spy on the town with her readings, he should be able to back her up with the police reports. He'd heard the call about Tish's death on the radio. My aunt and mother had assumed the rest when I didn't arrive to pick up Seth. They had called Alex, who had called Diana, and I arrived home in the middle of a wake.

Baxter looked exhausted and lay down in the center of the chaos, which was where Tuffy found him. They curled up together as if they understood that they shared a similar tragedy.

Everyone spoke at once as they gathered around.

“Are you okay?”

“Is it true?”

“I was so worried.”

“I just knew it!”

I could hardly identify who said what, except for the last statement, of course, which could only be Vi. I tried as best I could to reassure them I was okay. This was difficult, considering the amount of blood on my clothes. What I really wanted was a long shower, a whiskey, and bed. I settled for a short shower.

I left them all hovering over Baxter. Vi was on all fours trying to get some information out of him. He looked like he could use a break as well. I thought I saw him cast a wistful look at the stairs as I climbed toward the bathroom, but he was quickly swallowed by the crowd.

I stripped off my jeans and T-shirt and threw them in the trash. There was no way I would ever want to wear them again, even if the blood did wash out. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand and got in the shower. I washed quickly and then stood in the searing spray, trying not to think or to feel anything at all. The heat couldn't stop the trembling that started up as soon as I relaxed. My whole body shook, and the tears came—some for Tish, some for Sara, some I had been saving for Jadyn, the boy I'd shot in the spring. The police psychologist had said I should let my emotions out more. But it only left me exhausted and red-eyed.

After the shower, I tried to calm my eyes down with cold water but had only minimal success. I would just have to face the mob downstairs looking like I was suffering a severe allergy attack.

They were all in the dining room because my mother insisted on feeding people when a tragedy occurred. A pot of chili sat on the table, but no one was eating. Seth looked scared and young and sat with both dogs on the floor. Alex and Diana were at one end of the table, Mom and Vi at the other. My father was manning the neutral middle territory.

“Here she is!” My mother gestured toward the door as if I were entering royalty.

I gave a small wave to the gang and sat across from my father. They had broken into the whiskey, and I helped myself to a small glass.

“Tell us everything. Don't leave anything out,” Aunt Vi said.

I took a deep breath. “I went over to Tish's to talk to her. I felt bad about what happened yesterday.” I gave Vi an icy glare she pretended not to notice. “She had her sign up saying to wait. I waited for a few minutes, but I didn't feel right. . . .”

“What do you mean?” Mom leaned forward. “Did you sense something?”

“I don't know that I sensed anything. I just felt cold and not-right. I knocked, and when she didn't answer I got the key and unlocked the door.”

“Oh, Clyde, you could have been hurt, too!” Diana said, and grabbed my hand.

I glanced quickly her way but didn't want the shaking and crying to start up again, so I gently pulled my hand away and continued.

“As soon as the key was in the lock, I heard a gunshot. By the time I unlocked the front door, the back door slammed, and I went in and found Tish.”

“Why would you just go in after a 10-72?” Dad said. His eyes were red and wet. He must have had a scary afternoon, wondering if I was safe.

“I didn't just barge in. I went in quietly. I was worried about Tish, and after I heard the door slam, I figured there was no one in the house.” Listening to my own story, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. No trained police officer would ever enter a scene like that without a real weapon and some sort of backup. But at that moment I wasn't a police officer. I was just Tish's friend, and I wanted to help her.

“Did you see anything at all?” Alex asked. His eyes were red, his face haggard.

“No. Whoever did this was gone before I got to the kitchen. I didn't see a car or anyone running away. . . .”

“They could have been hiding in the back,” Seth said from the floor.

A cold chill skittered down my spine as I realized he was right. I hadn't searched the yard or locked the door while focused on Tish. All my training had disappeared when faced with Tish's attack. I put my head down on my arms.

“Well, we need to organize a memorial service for her,” my mother said with a shaky voice.

“She doesn't have any family.” Vi shook her head.

“I'll really miss her,” said Diana. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.

Sniffles and muffled coughs made their way around the table. Baxter moaned. I was focused on who might have done this. My mother could worry about the memorial; I wanted the murderer caught and punished. Gary was a very real possibility. He was out of jail, had just been fighting with her, and because she had talked Alison into reneging on her alibi, Tish was partly responsible for his arrest in the first place. Maybe she'd known something she hadn't yet told the police. Maybe she'd talked Alison into changing her statement because she'd known Gary had done it and he knew she suspected him.

“I'll bet it was Milo Stark,” Vi said.

“What?” Alex said, as Mom nodded and Diana raised her eyebrows.

“Now, don't start that again, Violet.” My father poured himself another shot of whiskey.

“He's the best suspect. He killed that girl years ago, left town in a shower of scandal, then returned and within a month—two more murders!” She pounded the table to make her point. “I'd like to find out where he's been living and see what
their
murder rate has been.”

“What is she talking about?” Seth asked, looking from me to Diana to Mom.

I glanced at Diana to gain some courage, and then began the story of Milo Stark/Jones. As a senior in high school he had dated Julia Wyatt. She was beautiful, a cheerleader, on the debate team, straight A's, the whole package. Her family was not psychic, and they ran the hotel in town and owned the marina. This lack of psychic ability put them on a lower social rung, according to Vi, but Milo's family was also not psychic. They owned the restaurant. Everyone expected Milo and Julia to end up married, but, just before graduation, Julia disappeared. Some of her clothes were found in the woods near the highway. The clothes had bloodstains, and Milo was the main suspect in a possible murder. Her body was never found. Without a body the authorities couldn't arrest him, but the town did a good job of trying and convicting him anyway. Just about every psychic in town had a crack at locating her body, but no one was successful and she hadn't been seen since. Her father had been distraught and had ranted about the incompetence of the police force right up until he'd died a year ago. It was Crystal Haven's terrible unsolved mystery.

“Humph,” said Vi when I finished.

“What does that mean?” I said, turning toward her.

“It means you still think Milo is innocent,” she said, her eyebrows accusing.

“I think there has to be evidence before concluding he's guilty,” I said.

“Well, I can tell you, even though no one could locate the body, there were plenty of people who thought she was dead and that he had killed her.” Vi waggled her finger at all of us.

“Now, Vi, let's not get worked up over Milo,” my mother said. “That was a long time ago. No one has ever contacted Julia in life or in Spirit.” She patted Vi's hand into submission.

“Something is wrong with that Milo,” Vi grumbled. “I'm telling you, he's never been right. Takes after his mother. I'm sure Joe regrets ever taking on the whole mess after Mike died.”

I sensed my parents go very still.

“What? Mike who?” Alex asked. Diana and I shrugged and looked to Vi.

Vi kept her gaze on the table, but said, “Mike Jones was Milo's biological father. Joe Stark adopted him. Cecile was pregnant with Milo when she married Joe, which was right after Mike died.”

My father was glaring at Vi across the table. She looked up, possibly sensing the waves of irritation directed at her.

“What?” she said. “Everyone knows.” She put her arms out to encompass the room.

“
Now
they do. Cecile and Joe made it clear they wanted it to remain quiet for the boy's sake,” Dad said.

“Well clearly ‘the boy' found out, or he wouldn't have changed his name,” Vi said.

My mother started nervously dishing up chili. She had a tendency to flit about when my father and Vi argued.

“Frank, Vi, please. It all happened a long time ago. Let's just leave it alone, okay?” she said.

“How did Mike Jones die?” I ignored my mother's pained look.

“Hunting,” said my father.

“What do you mean, ‘hunting'?”

“He and Joe were out hunting, and he got hit by a stray bullet.” My father had become interested in the pattern on the tablecloth.

“They never found out who shot him, the gun was never found, and the hunter never came forward. Cecile was devastated.” My mother wiped a tear and glanced at Vi, who had become very still.

I had a sudden feeling that there was much more to this story than they were telling. The fact that I had never heard it before was curious in itself, but Vi now looked paler than when she heard Tish had died.

“I think I'll go lie down for a little while,” Vi said, and stood quickly. Her hands shook as she pushed the chair back under the table.

We all watched her go, and it felt as if the room itself held its breath for a few moments after she left.

“Okay, spill it,” I said, glaring at my mother and then my father.

“What are you talking about?” My mother had assumed a confused expression that I knew from long experience was fake.

“What's up with Vi?”

“There's nothing ‘up.' She's just been under a lot of strain trying to get information out of the only witnesses to the murders of two of our closest friends.” She passed out the chili-filled bowls and didn't look at me. “I would think even you would understand that, Clyde.”

I focused my glare on my father.

He glanced at Mom, who refused to look up, and then back at me. Cringing away from my pointed stare, he sighed heavily.

“Vi and Mike were a couple. They were supposed to be married, and then Cecile came along and, well, that was it. Violet never met another guy like Mike.” My father hung his head.

“Vi has been carrying a torch for a dead guy all these years?” I said, looking from one parent to the other.

“Shhh! She'll hear you. And I don't appreciate your tone, Clytemnestra,” my mother said. “It was a tragedy the way he died. I felt terrible for Cecile, but it changed your aunt as well. There was a lot of bad feeling between Mike and Vi back then. Vi never had a chance to work through it.”

“What happened?” Diana asked.

My mother looked at Seth, who was listening intently. She and my father exchanged a look.

“Joe Stark and Mike Jones were business partners. They owned the restaurant together, but Mike had a larger stake.” Mom hesitated and glanced at Seth but continued. “Vi claimed Cecile was a gold digger. Her father owned the auto repair shop on the outside of town, and she always felt she could do better. She wanted to be respected here in Crystal Haven even if she didn't have any psychic abilities. When things fell apart with Vi and Mike, Cecile ended up pregnant. Cecile and Mike got married. It wasn't long after that he was dead.”

“Wow, I never knew any of this,” Alex said.

“It was a long time ago. But sometimes, for Vi, I think it's still happening,” my mother said. She crossed her arms and gestured at us to eat.

* * *

After my mother's
revelations, and a few bites of dinner, the group scattered. Dad went off to listen to his police scanner, and Seth shuffled to his room with the dogs. Mom took her cards and the pendulum to Vi's apartment. Alex and Diana had their own plans and unfortunately they involved me. It reminded me of when my grandmother had died. After the first shock of the death had passed, each person had his or her own way of coping.

“C'mon, Clyde. You need this,” Diana said as she took my hand and dragged me out of my chair.

Alex helped her push me toward the stairs, and I noticed he snagged the whiskey bottle on his way. At least they had their priorities straight.

Diana led the way up to my room. She and Alex had spent a lot of time there in high school discussing music, movies, parents, and our future plans. Her large tote bag bulged and clanked as she took each step. I had a lot of experience with that Mary Poppins bag, and not all of it was good. I looked to Alex for help but all he did was shrug and hold up the bottle.