Marlene Kirby woke up to a cold, wet nose nudging her hand. She opened her eyes just as Hershey’s long pink tongue swiped her cheek. She put her arms around his neck and relished the affection, all too aware that sleep had done nothing to dispel her depression.
Hershey wiggled free and started running in circles in the middle of the room. He yelped and then sat, tail wagging, a look of anticipation in his eyes.
“All right. I’m coming.”
Marlene looked over at the empty side of the bed, torn between missing Charlie and wanting him gone.
She got up and put on her bathrobe. She opened the door and Hershey shot out into the hallway, almost knocking Charlie down.
“I was hoping you were up,” he said. “Can I talk to you before the kids get up?”
“I need to make the waffle batter.”
“This can’t wait.”
“Well, Hershey can’t either. Someone needs to let him out.”
“I’ll do it. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Charlie, you already told me what you told the elders. What more is there to talk about?”
“Please.” He turned and looked over his shoulder. “Give me five minutes.”
Marlene went to the rocker and sat, her arms folded tightly in front of her. What was the point in rehashing what had happened? She didn’t believe him anyway.
A minute later, Charlie came in and closed the door. He sat on the side of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. “Honey, no matter how strained things are between us, we have to do something differently. Kevin is starting to act out.”
“He’s angry and depressed,” Marlie said. “But I hadn’t noticed him misbehaving.”
“I got up at three o’clock to get some Tylenol and his light was on. I knocked on his door and he was in bed with the headphones on—listening to Dream Slayer full blast. I could hear from the doorway.”
Marlene closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. “He knows how we feel about that kind of music.”
“Ricky let him borrow it. I think he’s angry and trying to get back at me. So it seemed like a good time to use my situation to make a point. I had a heart-to-heart with him.”
She listened as Charlie relayed the entire conversation he’d had with Kevin.
“I’m surprised you admitted all that to a twelve-year-old,” Marlene said.
“I can’t afford not to. We can’t shield him from the gossip. He at least needs to hear the truth from me.”
Marlene didn’t say what she was thinking. “Did he believe you?”
“I don’t know, Marlie. Kevin’s more confused than anything. But he said something that kept me awake the rest of the night. He asked me …” Charlie paused, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “He asked if we were getting a divorce.” Charlie caught her gaze and held it. “I told him not if I could help it. But I couldn’t sleep after that. I need to know: Is that what you’re thinking?”
She threw her hands up. “I don’t know, I can’t think straight! You have a lot of nerve expecting me to know anything about the future at this moment.” Her chin quivered and she put her hand to her mouth. “You broke my heart, Charlie. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”
“But what about the kids? They need me.”
Marlene could tell by his face that her words had cut deeply. She didn’t care.
“Do you want me to move out?” he said.
“Where would you go?”
“I don’t know, Marlie. But I can’t stay here under these conditions. I think it’s doing more harm than good. Kevin knows I’ve been sleeping in my study. What kind of message does that send?”
“It’s your own fault.”
“That’s beside the point. Our son is not handling this well. No matter how upset we are, we can’t let this throw Kevin into a tailspin. Twelve is too tender. He can’t handle the pressure inside the house and out.”
Marlene realized she was rocking too fast. “I don’t know what to tell you, Charlie. I’m a long way from resolving this. Do what you have to do.”
“I suppose I could stay at Morganstern’s until this blows over,” Charlie said. “Maybe we could get some counseling.”
“What for? I’ll never know for sure whether or not you’re telling the truth.” Marlene started to sob. “I still don’t believe you. I’ve tried, Charlie. God knows I have. But you lied. How can anyone believe you after the diary?”
Kevin moved away from his parents’ bedroom door. He turned and tiptoed down the hall, went back to his room, and shut the door. He took Dream Slayer II and slid it into the CD player, put on his headphones, and turned up the volume.
On Sunday morning, Mark Steele turned on the Open sign at Monty’s Diner, and then unlocked the door and held it open, not surprised to see a crowd already gathered outside.
“Mornin’,” Mort Clary said, squeezing past him. “Need my caffeine.” Mort put a quarter in the jar and took a newspaper off the top of the stack.
“Wonder what Ellen’s got ta say about the mayor?”
“She’s giving him the benefit of the doubt,” Mark said.
“Really?” George Gentry came into the diner, his hand holding his wife’s. “After what KJNX revealed?”
“Revealed is right!” Reggie Mason stepped inside.
Liv Spooner nudged Reggie forward. “Move it, Reg. I already know what you think.”
The early crowd sat at the counter and Rosie Harris poured the first round of coffee.
Mark waited until the other patrons were seated and then stood behind Reggie and reread the lead story.
DIARY UNDER SCRUTINY
Myerson’s KJNX-TV has surrendered a diary to the FBI that allegedly was written by Sheila Paxton, and supposedly contains details of an illicit relationship she had with Baxter Mayor Charlie Kirby.
The diary first came to the forefront on Friday evening when KJNX received an anonymous tip from a man who not only revealed the whereabouts of the diary, but also stressed that it would be “a shocking eye-opener for the people of Baxter.”
KJNX station manager Hutch Evans arranged for the diary to be picked up at an undisclosed location and, after reviewing the contents, made the decision to run the story. “We have every reason to believe the diary is authentic,” Evans said. “Mayor Kirby’s involvement with Ms. Paxton may have influenced the controversial decision to allow the relocation of Thompson Tire’s regional plant in Baxter. Therefore, we believed it was in the best interest of the citizens of Baxter that this information be made public.”
Mayor Kirby denied the allegations of impropriety with Paxton.
“The diary cannot be authentic,” Kirby said, “because I had no such affair with Ms. Paxton. Something is very wrong here.” The mayor also stated that, prior to KJNX running the story, he received several calls from a man threatening to give the diary to KJNX unless the mayor convinced Baxter Daily News editor Ellen Jones to use her sources to dig into Paxton’s background for information that has not been made public. The mayor reported the blackmail attempt to local authorities, who then informed the FBI.
The FBI refused to comment, and has asked Mayor Kirby to refrain from making further comments during its investigation.
Mark lifted his eyes and tuned in to the conversation already underway at the counter.
Reggie blew on his coffee. “Man, this is big-time stuff. Who would’ve thought the diary would end up at the FBI? Think the mayor knows somethin’?”
Mort nodded. “Probably a lot more than he’s lettin’ on.”
“Honestly, you two always look for the worst,” Hattie Gentry said.
Rosie’s eyes widened. “You have to admit this doesn’t look good.”
“Well,” Hattie said, “I think we should give the mayor the benefit of the doubt.”
“Yep, doubt has benefit.” Mort elbowed Reggie and laughed his wheezy laugh. “Works fer me.”
Liv shook her head and let out a sigh. “Oh, let’s be honest. There’s not a person here who believes the mayor is telling the truth.”
Giorgio pushed open the door to his room at the Heron Lake Lodge and went inside. He shut the door with his foot, then carried a cup of coffee and two doughnuts to the table and sat down.
He wasn’t giving up because the mayor had failed to cooperate. That two-bit TV station had ruined Charlie’s chances for reelection. Giorgio laughed. Served him right. On to Plan B.
He took a bite of doughnut, then opened the file he had taken from Ellen Jones’s office. He read through her notes on Sheila Paxton one more time to see if he’d overlooked anything. He hadn’t. Jones had no plans to pursue the story. She was reluctant to dig into Sheila’s background and risk opening herself up to whoever killed Richard. He let out a laugh. Too late for that!
Ellen walked into the house and heard a wolf whistle from the other room. She smiled and walked into the family room, where she saw Guy sitting in his favorite chair reading the Sunday paper.
“You look wonderful in that dress,” he said. “Let me feast my eyes for a moment. How was church?”
“Good. Especially the sermon,” Ellen said. “Charlie and Marlene weren’t there. I’m not surprised.”
“Me either. Christians shoot their wounded.”
“That was unfair.”
“Tell me people weren’t whispering about it—how they’re appalled and disgusted.”
Ellen’s eyebrows gathered. “People care, Guy. We’re all concerned for the Kirbys. It’s a horrible situation. No one should have their private life exposed that way.”
“I agree with that. I’m just wondering how long before they’re asked to leave the church.”
Ellen sat on the couch and studied Guy’s face. “No one is going to ask them to leave the church.”
“Wanna bet?”
“What’s eating you?” Ellen said. “You’re deliberately antagonizing me.”
He folded the newspaper and put it in his lap. “Sorry I just know how self-righteous Christians can be. They’re not going to accept Charlie after he fell from grace.”
Ellen paused for a few seconds, careful to hide her annoyance. “I hadn’t noticed the church trying to stone him. So far, it’s been Avery Stedman, Jeremy Adler, and KJNX.”
“Okay, that’s fair. But brace yourself for the reaction from the pews because there’s going to be plenty, believe me.” He held up the front page. “I will give you credit for not being one of those who shoot their wounded.”
“Well, thank you, Counselor. I was wondering if you’d noticed.”
“Of course I noticed. I thought it was fair and factual. You didn’t put a spin on it.”
“Thanks. It’s getting harder to stay objective. I honestly don’t know what to believe about Charlie’s guilt or innocence. But this whole thing with English gives me the creeps.”
“I’ll feel better when they find him. You gave them a good description.”
Ellen nodded. “The artist’s sketch was excellent. I can’t imagine they won’t find him soon.”