This Little Piggy Went to Murder (12 page)

“Do you go there often?” asked Sophie. Her curiosity was piqued. She wondered if Jenny was one of the
regulars.

“Not really. I have a couple of girlfriends in Knife River that I see once in a great while. I just feel like, I don’t know, doing something tonight. What do you say? You want to come along?” Jenny pulled on her oversized, lumpy green sweater and looked hopeful.

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. I promised Amanda that we’d have a game of cribbage before bed. I think she needs the company right now. She’s still pretty upset about her father.”

Jenny nodded, her face full of sadness. “Death is an awful thing. So unreal.”

“Unreal?”

“Yeah, you know. Being human, our spiritual insight is so limited. But sometimes it’s a blessing in disguise. Well, I better get inside.”

Sophie would have pursued the comment, but saw that the light was fading fast. If she wanted to walk down by the lighthouse and do some exploring, she’d better get going. “Will we see you at the barbecue tomorrow?”

“Yes, you definitely will. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

“It will?”

“Oh, yes! You can count on it.” Her face suddenly flushed.

Sophie wondered if the evening light was playing tricks with her eyes. For a second, Jenny’s intensity seemed to border on the frightening. “Well, so, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“You sure will!” She gave Sophie a quick hug and then set off toward the cottage.

Sophie waited until she was safely inside before turning her attention to the lighthouse. Standing this close to it now, she was truly amazed at how tall it appeared. Much taller than she’d remembered. The entrance was through a weathered wooden door. As she tried to push it open, she noticed a newly installed dead bolt. Well, wasn’t that just peachy? Amanda had warned her that the inside stairs were badly in need of repair. With Jenny’s day-care center so close, it did make sense to prevent the children from getting inside. Oh weIl, it would be dark soon anyway. She could get the key and come again tomorrow.

Before heading back through the tall grass, Sophie tilted her head and gazed one last time up at the top. Several gulls had perched on the iron railing that circled just under the narrow open windows in the topmost room. If she could have gotten in, she might have found a nest somewhere up there. For some reason, that possibility intrigued her. As she moved around the side, she felt her foot slip on something wet. Down she went, hitting her shoulder against the side of the building and banging her knee on a stone. Damn. The pain in her leg stopped her cold. Why hadn’t she been more careful? Propping herself up against the wall, she pulled up her pant leg to assess the damage. It didn’t seem too bad. She’d probably have a beauty of a black-and-blue mark in the morning, but that was about it. As she was about to get up, she heard the sound of voices. She looked behind her and saw that she was sitting next to a low, screened window. Since no one else was around, the sounds had to be coming from inside. Dipping her head nearer, she could just make out a dark form moving slowly down the central stairs.

“Watch out for the next to the last step,” called a woman’s voice. Sophie recognized it at once. It was Amanda’s.

“You should get a carpenter in here before winter sets in,” said another, softer voice. A moment later Claire reached the bottom.

Both women stood motionless fora moment in the dim, interior light. Neither looked happy.

“So,” said Claire, moving to one of the higher windows and glancing nervously outside. “What are we going to do?”

Amanda sat down on the steps, brushing a sticky cobweb off her jeans. “Exactly what we’ve been planning all along. Nothing has changed.”

“I never thought it would be like this.”

“I know. I didn’t either. But it won’t be long now.”

Claire groaned. “Don’t say that. It makes me feel too much like a ghoul.”

“We have no other choice! What we’re doing isn’t wrong. Surely you see that.” Amanda stood and crossed to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her around. “You love me, don’t you?”

Claire sagged against the wall. “You know I do. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

As they kissed, Sophie’s eyes opened wide. She leaned closer to the screen, to get a better look. She felt guilty watching this intensely private scene, yet she simply couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“And I love
you
,” said Amanda, touching Claire’s hair tenderly. “Listen to me for a minute. We’ve got a good reason for everything we’re doing. You know that. You can’t back out on me now.”

Claire closed her eyes. “I won’t.”

“Good, then it’s settled.”

“Nothing is settled. I just want it to be over.”

“It will be. Soon, you’ll see. Jack will be in Washington, and …” Amanda’s voice faltered.

“See! You can’t even say it. Where will
Luther
be?”

Trembling, Amanda turned away.

“I know I’m only making it worse. I’m just not thinking straight.” Claire took her in her arms. “When will I see you again?”

“You know what the barbecue is going to be like tomorrow. I think we should be seen together as little as possible. We don’t want to create any more suspicion than we already have. But later, maybe in the evening, after all the commotion has died down.”

“Will you be able to make it to my book signing in Duluth? It’s going to be at Beckman Books on Superior Street. Eight o’clock.”

“I think I’d better pass. You understand.”

Claire seemed terribly disappointed. Her entire body sank. “Sure. I understand. By the way, what did you tell Jack about the files we got from the clinic?”

Amanda stepped a few paces away. “I said I burned them.”

“You’re not serious? Does he believe you?”

“He has no reason not to.”

There was a long pause. “No. Of course you’re right.”

“Look, right now, nothing is more important than getting him elected. I’m absolutely committed to it. I’m afraid that after what we’ve done, there’s no turning back.”

Claire’s hand clutched at her throat. “I know.”

“I’ll try to get away later tomorrow night and meet you at your cabin. It all depends on how everything goes tomorrow. Let’s just leave it for now.”

Sophie continued to watch as the two women held each other, whispering words of tenderness and encouragement. Finally, Claire unbolted the door. “I love you,” she said, an urgency in her voice. A moment later she was gone. Amanda took hold of the handle and leaned heavily against it. Running her hand roughly through her long blonde hair, she jerked open the door, bolted it behind her, and then fled into the growing darkness.

Quickly, Sophie stood. She could see Amanda disappear into the tall grass, her thin body bending into the wind. In the other direction, Claire was climbing, a sandy hill to where her car was parked. Feeling absolutely stunned, Sophie sank back down on the grass and drew her knees up, resting her head in her hands. As she sat watching the waves pound the jagged rocks in the distance, she had the queasy sense of the ground moving unsteadily beneath her. Of course, she’d known Amanda and Luther hadn’t been happy together for a long time, but this? It wasn’t that Amanda had found a woman, it was that she had found anyone. Did Luther know? And how could Amanda keep something as important as this from her? Selfishly, Sophie realized that the dissolution of one of her oldest friends’ marriage would strike at the very bedrock of her own life. It was unthinkable. Still, neither Luther nor Amanda acted any differently toward the other. Was Amanda waiting for the right time to tell him? How could there ever be a right time for something like that? And what was all that stuff about Jack and some clinic’s files? Sophie closed her eyes and tried to calm down as her heart continued to race.

What on earth was going on?

Sydney Sherwin sprawled in a rocking chair on the front deck. Pulling a bowl of mixed nuts closer, he began to pick carefully through the contents. “I only like the cashews,” he said, spitting out a peanut that had inadvertently slipped into his mouth. “Would you like some?” He peeked over his sunglasses at Ryan. “They’re kind of stale.”

“No, thanks.” Ryan sipped his freshly squeezed morning orange juice and tried to pretend he wasn’t grinding his teeth. “Isn’t it kind of early to be drinking Scotch?”

“Nectar of the gods.” Sydney smiled, popping another nut into his mouth. “And anyway, it’s almost eleven. Sitting outside under a cloudless summer sky makes me feel like I’m a kid again.”

The Scotch no doubt helps, thought Ryan acidly. “What time is everyone supposed to be arriving for the barbecue?” Sydney’s pudgy hand fingered another small cashew.

“Around noon.”

They both watched in silence as cameramen from WDPC set up equipment on the front lawn. At least two hundred folding chairs had been arranged in front of the deck. This, plus an abundance of standing room, had been organized for the sole benefit of those loyal supporters who would, in a few short hours, be intently listening to Jack GrendeI’s long-awaited Labor Day speech. Jack was known for being a philosophical, yet charismatic speaker. His supporters were rarely disappointed.

Red, white, and blue balloons and long, crepe-paper streamers had been affixed to the base of the rounded deck, making it look a bit like an extremely patriotic birthday cake. In back of them, the house had been plastered with American flags. Off to the side, a group of men dressed in white shirts with bow ties, striped suspenders, and old-fashioned straw hats practiced the beginning of a Sousa march.

“I suppose Jack and Nora stayed here last night,” said Sydney. He yawned, his florid face stretching like rubber. “When I went to bed, you were all still hard at it.”

“They did. We needed to do some last-minute polishing on today’s new material.”

“You’re really working hard to get him elected, aren’t you, son?”

Ryan’s skin crawled at the use of the term
son
. He found Sydney one of the most thoroughly repulsive men he had ever met. Just the suggestion that they might be related turned his stomach. Sydney Sherwin not only looked like a human rodent, he had all the instincts of a sewer rat. Nora Grendel had been quite informative about the real reason for his unexpected visit. It appeared there was something even more potentially damaging to Jack’s political career out there than the Lake Superior dumping scandal. If Ryan could only get his hands on the proof! It was like walking a tightrope. Others wanted to control Jack, too, wanted leverage over his future decisions. Ryan was positive he knew who the biggest threat came from, but who would believe it? Certainly not Jack. “Jack is the best candidate for public office Minnesota has seen in the last fifty years.”

“Well now, that’s kind of a tall statement.” Sydney’s nose twitched rodentially. He watched a group of young women busily setting up the food tables. “I’ve known Jack for a lot more years than you. It’s kind of hard for me to see him as anythiug other than the crazy kid I bunked with in Nam. You knew that, didn’t you? That Luther, Jack, and I were all buddies over there?”

“Yes,” said Ryan wearily. “You mentioned it several times last evening.”

“Did I? Yeah, well, but I bet I didn’t tell you the whole story.” He winked. “It might blow some people’s minds.”

“What are you saying, Sid?” Ryan didn’t even try to hide the disgust in his voice.

A catering truck clattered into the drive on the west side of the, building. Two heavyset men got out looking confused. Before they had a chance to climb the steps to the deck, Nora Grendel appeared and shouted impatiently for them to move the van around to the back. She waited until the truck drove away before crossing to a redwood chair and sitting, down.

Ryan was a little concerned about how tired she looked this morning. Even though Nora was only a couple of months Jack’s senior, her freckled, ruddy complexion often made her seem years older. The delicate tracery of lines around her eyes needed careful attention before the afternoon celebration began. It was critical she look her best today. Everyone had been up entirely too late last night. Thank God Jack looked like a newborn no matter how little sleep he got. In many ways, he was the perfect political animal.