Sunset Bridge (29 page)

“I haven’t decided for sure,” she said, although that wasn’t exactly true. “I know you’re in a hurry, but I need to pick your brain about something while you finish.”

“Ask away.”

Her father had already told her everything he could about the Dutta case from the perspective of the local cops, so now she cut right to the chase. “You know Felo and I are still looking into those murders in Miami.”

“What I
know
is that you don’t sound done with the job or the man, Maggie.”

It was like her father to waste no time. Maggie didn’t wince, but she came close. “I don’t know about that, but I do know a few things are turning out to be interesting.” In as few words as possible, she caught her dad up on everything she and Felo had just learned, including the possible connection to Blake Armstrong.

“And there’s something more,” she went on. “I sent myself a copy of Harit Dutta’s novel. He was a talented writer. In fact, he had some important grant to help him finish up the book, and—”

“You sent yourself a copy?”

She explained briefly. “But here’s the thing. I was looking through it last night. I’m pretty sure the police must have checked his computer, but not closely, since they’re sure he was the murderer. I doubt they wanted to go through the novel page by page, and I more or less have started to. I haven’t gotten all the way through it yet, but I discovered he
made notes to himself at the end of each chapter. Some of them are ideas for the next one, but some are a kind of diary. What he did that day, what it made him think about. And there was a long conversation I found this morning that he described in detail. It was with one of his customers. The guy asked him about his marriage. I guess barbers get that, just like hairdressers do. Nothing else to do but chat, and it can get personal.”

“So what did you find?”

“Harit was surprised to find himself, as unhappy as he was, announcing he would do anything to protect his own marriage, because his vow to his wife was sacred. The customer asked if he would feel the same way if his wife treated him badly, or was unfaithful or abusive, and Harit said he would forgive and move on.” She paused. “Those aren’t the words of a killer.”

“You don’t know that, Maggie.”

“Dad, it was important enough that he put it in his book, as notes to think about. And the whole book is about forgoing violence, learning to tap into the peace inside.”

“Could be he wrote about the subject because he was struggling with his own anger. Maybe it got the best of him.”

She had thought of that herself, but it just didn’t jibe with Rishi and Janya’s assessment of the man.

“There seems to be a picture forming, but I just can’t figure out how any of it goes together,” she admitted. “What if Blake Armstrong is involved in some way?”

“Why would a man like this Armstrong fellow want his barber dead? Plus, want it so badly, he came up with an elaborate plan to make it happen?”

“I’m just guessing, but let’s say Harit found something to blackmail Blake or somebody else with. Even though that
doesn’t seem in character, either, for our purposes, let’s say he did. Now, how and why did he and his wife end up dead in a Miami hotel room?”

“If there’s something to your theory? Maybe whoever killed them knew how loyal Harit was to his wife, even though the couple had problems, so they kidnapped her, then lured Harit to the motel. They could have forced the wife to phone and tell him she had gone there with another man, knowing Harit would come after her. What better way to get rid of him than to make their deaths look like a murder-suicide?”

Maggie had been thinking along similar lines. If she was right about other things, this was the only explanation that made sense. She was glad her father concurred.

“And it’s possible, isn’t it, that the customer he had that conversation with was involved, because who would know better than that
particular
man how strongly Harit felt about keeping his marriage intact.”

“You’re thinking it might have been this Blake Armstrong fellow.”

“I don’t know for sure Blake was a customer, but those toys say he could have been. It’s possible he never went to the shop but had Harit come to his house.”

“That’s a whole lot of speculation. Way too many maybes.” Her father pushed his plate away. “I’m getting a bad feeling here. You have a lot of theories and no evidence. The next step is to get proof, but you’re not a cop anymore, and even a cop would have to go through channels. You go into this Armstrong’s house or office to look for connections, you’re breaking and entering, plain and simple. And I don’t want to be called out to arrest my own daughter.”

She grimaced. “You would, too, if it was called for.”

“You think so?”

“
I
would, and I got that from you.”

He thought about that for a moment; then he shook his head. “I don’t think so, honey. I’d find a way around an arrest if I could. Truth is, you’re a lot bigger fan of the letter of the law than I ever was. I see shades of gray, and I’m not sure you ever do. I’m not even sure you want to, because you might need help interpreting.”

She was about to ask what he meant, when her mother finished her call and came back. He checked his watch, then stood, said goodbye and headed outside, discussing evacuation plans with Wanda as he went.

Maggie was cleaning off the counter, when her mother rejoined her.

Wanda went straight to the point. “Your dad’s worried you’re going to go off half-cocked and do something you shouldn’t on this investigation. And as usual, you’re not listening to anyone else. Tell me he’s wrong.”

Maggie didn’t respond, but Wanda didn’t drop the subject. Far from it. Instead, her next words came rushing out.

“You know what? You think I don’t see what’s going on with you, Maggie, that I’ve never understood you. But I do. You’re too impatient to let things unfold in their own time, to wait and see, because that’s not your way. Back in Miami you thought you were right, and you lost just about everything that mattered to you. So what did you learn? You still don’t trust anybody else to know better. You were sure of yourself as a kid, but it got worse after you became a cop. I don’t exactly know what happened to you. I know it’s not easy being a woman in a man’s world—”

“Look, I don’t think—”

“I know what you don’t think,” Wanda said. “You don’t think I have any right to say this. But you’re wrong.”

Maggie knew she had made a mistake in Miami, everyone did, but her mother’s assessment went deeper. Wanda wasn’t talking about the secrets that had been kept from Maggie about Paul Smythe, or decisions she had made without having all the information. She was talking about a fundamental flaw in the person her daughter had become.

“Wow,” she said after a moment of silence. “This is pretty much an indictment of everything about me.”

“Nobody loves you better.” Wanda raised a finger as if ticking off points in a lecture. “But you’re here to rethink your life. That’s just a little grist for the mill.”

“More like a hundred-pound sack.”

“You’re a tough woman, but not as tough as you think. Something happened to you those first few years in the sheriff’s department. I saw it, knew it, but you kept me at arm’s length, the way you always did. Your dad saw it, too, but you wouldn’t let us help. You were warned not to take that job, but you did anyway, because you were sure it was the right thing to do. And whatever happened there…? It’s still eating at you.”

Anger shot through Maggie, and it showed in her voice. “Nothing happened to me that didn’t teach me something important. I learned to stand up for myself. I learned to count on myself, because nobody else was going to be there to count on. That’s something every cop has to learn.”

“Most cops know they have their friends behind them.”

“Well, I didn’t, okay?” That was as much as she wanted to say—more, in fact. “But I’m stronger because of it,” she finished.

“You won’t admit you made a bad decision, and you won’t face it because you’re not over being
wrong
. Mistakes bother most of us, some more than others. Lord knows I’d know
about that, since I make more than most people. But all your life nobody ever worked harder at being right than you did. You miscalculated a little, actually screwed up? Didn’t matter how small an error it was, it haunted you like you’d just run over your best friend.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Not much of one. And this next part isn’t one at all. It’s time to start trusting somebody besides yourself again. Past time, for your own happiness. Start right here and now with this Dutta family. Don’t go off half-cocked—”

“Half-cocked? This is not a small error we’re talking about. In this instance,” Maggie said stiffly, “nobody else seems interested in finding out what happened to the Dutta family. And there are two little kids who are going to grow up believing their father killed their mother unless I prove that’s not true.”

“Do you think so? If you’re right and there
was
someone else involved, they’ll still be involved in a week or two, or even a year. Let Felo help you since his department’s handling it.”

Maggie was saved from having to answer by the tinkle of the bell. Two older women came in and headed right for the pie case. Maggie used the opportunity to escape.

Back in the kitchen again, she finished what little there was left to do, but she was haunted by her mother’s analysis, an analysis spurred on, she imagined, by private, worried conversations her parents had engaged in at home for years. Their analysis matched that of her own police chief, who had kept vital information from her. But hadn’t that been the real problem? That she hadn’t been fully informed? And wasn’t the way around that to become more so, not to back off? To
get all the information she could so she never made the same mistake again?

Right now the missing piece seemed to have Blake Armstrong’s photograph plastered across it. She just had to figure out how to fit it into the Dutta puzzle. She took out her cell phone and found Blake’s number, but she didn’t risk using it, since she saw the battery was low again and now even her car charger had given up on the phone and refused to recharge it. She used the kitchen phone instead and leaned against the wall while it rang. When he answered, she kept her voice low, since her mother was still chatting with her customers, who couldn’t choose which pies they wanted most.

“Blake? Maggie here.”

“Hey, where are you calling from?” He sounded genuinely pleased to hear her voice.

“The shop. We’re cleaning up and getting ready to close. Where are you?”

“Packing the car. I hope you are, too.”

“Soon. I wanted to thank you for last night and make sure everything’s okay. You were obviously worried.”

“I’m really sorry I had to cut our date short. We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

She was sure it wouldn’t, since she had no intention of going out with him in the future, but she injected warmth into her voice. “It was no problem. I was just concerned about you.”

“Everything’s fine. Just some logistical complications. I think I have a lifetime of those ahead of me. I need to figure out which ones really demand my attention, and which are false alarms.”

“Never easy,” she said. “Anyway, I’m glad all’s well. Where are you heading?”

“One of our partners has a house near Sarasota. I’ll go there. We’ll make a party out of it. You say you’re leaving?”

“I’m planning to, if things get any worse.”

“You could come with us. We’d have fun.”

“Unfortunately I promised my mother I’d go to a friend’s house with her. She hates storms, and my father’ll be busy here. I’ll hold her hand and help her pack.” Maggie heard a sniff from the doorway and turned to see Wanda glaring at her.

“You stay safe then,” Blake said. “Maybe I’ll see you out on the highway.”

“I hope the traffic’s not
that
bad.”

He laughed, and they exchanged a few more sentences before Maggie hung up and faced her mother.

“That was a lie,” Wanda said. “You made me sound like some fragile old lady.”

“I’m sorry.” Maggie sifted through possible responses. “I was just using you as an excuse, Mom. When I’m done here, I’m meeting Felo at Alvaro’s camp and staying with him a couple of days. I didn’t want to get into that with Blake. A little hard to explain, don’t you think?”

“Why, because you’re dating him? Or trying to finger him for the murders?”

Maggie had gained a new respect for her mother. She realized she didn’t want to deny the truth. She owed her that much. “Either way, I’d like to keep him hanging on for a while.”

Wanda looked as if she was debating her answer, but in the end she just shrugged. “About time you and Felo spent some real time together. Maybe you’ll actually talk for a change.”

“I’m just going there to get away from the storm. But I’ll
talk to him about the case. I’ll consult him, the way you said I should.”

Wanda didn’t look convinced. “Well, if you’re going to do that, don’t you think you ought to go back home, load your car and get that cat of yours? You’ve got a long drive ahead.”

“You’ll be okay here without me for a few days?”

The shop door tinkled again, and Wanda shrugged. “I’ll close soon enough. No point in pushing things. Hardly ever is.”

Maggie wondered if that was true. Was there a point in pushing this? Did she really have the right, or the duty, to go to Blake’s house and see what she could find? Because she would never have a better opportunity. If she wanted to find a connection between Harit and Blake, this was the afternoon to do it.

She was still asking herself that question when she gathered up her purse. Wanda was alone again when Maggie came out of the kitchen. Her mother looked tired, as if she had used up a day’s energy. Despite her own turmoil, Maggie felt such a surge of love for her that she didn’t know what to say.

“Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for you to come here and help me, after all,” Wanda said. “I just don’t seem to be able to keep my mouth shut, though I sure have tried.”

Maggie put her arms around her mother and gave her a long hug. Wanda hesitated, then hugged her back. They stood that way for most of a minute.