After Kyle left, Jack grabbed the mop from the utility closet and went over the puddles our guest had left behind. He laughed as he did it. “No wonder folks with nice houses don’t want to rent them out. Forget the paint chips. There must be salt water and sand on every floor and every chair in that house.”
“What’s in the notebook?” I asked.
“Lots of good stuff. Looks like she kept a kind of diary of her search.”
“I’m torn,” I admitted. “Eddie needs his supper and bath and I can’t wait to see what’s in that notebook.”
Joseph was all smiles. “I’m glad to hear motherhood hasn’t taken you over completely. I’ll resist temptation till Eddie is safely in his crib.”
“I knew I could count on you,” I said, lifting my little one off the floor with a swoop and a kiss.
“OK, I’m outvoted.” Jack put the notebook back in its plastic bag and dropped it on the table. “I’ll start getting things ready for dinner so we’ll have a little time before the Jorgensens come.”
We had invited them to meet Joseph and join us for spareribs. And until we had read every word of the notebook, I had no intention of sharing its contents with anyone. Jack had put together his best barbecue sauce during the day. I knew this because I smelled it when we returned from one of our jaunts. “OK, Eddie,” I said, my eye on the precious package, “it’s bath and suppertime. How does that sound to you?” I gave him a big kiss and we got started.
Joseph was more interested in the almost ten-month-old Eddie than she had been in the little baby. She was clearly pleased that he said her name, and she joined in the good-night kisses when he was ready for bed. I took him upstairs and read to him from a picture book with hard cardboard pages, showing him the pictures and talking to him about them. When he started looking drowsy, I put him in his crib. Three little fingers went right into his mouth and he closed his eyes. I dashed downstairs.
Jack had cleaned and cut the vegetables, made his wonderful blue cheese dip, and was sitting at the kitchen table with Joseph, the notebook untouched between them.
“You are the two most honorable people I know,” I said. “Are we going to look now?”
“You bet.” Jack slipped it out of the bag. It was an ordinary spiral notebook with a soft cover picturing some rock star unknown to me standing in front of a microphone, holding a guitar and singing his heart out. Jack opened the cover, and inside was a sticker like those you get in the mail from organizations that want donations. On it was Tina’s name and address.
The pages were written mostly in blue ballpoint—Jack flipped through them before turning back to the beginning—but occasionally in pencil or some other color of ink. Tina had grabbed whatever was near to make her notes.
“Well, here’s the beginning. No date.” He began to read.
“ ‘I know he was my father. Mom always said no but I believe Bill was my father. I remember the last time I saw him, just an ordinary visit. Afterwards I remember asking Mom why he didn’t come around anymore. She said she didn’t know and for a long time I didn’t believe her. But I believe her now. He had simply disappeared. I want to find him. I want to know the truth. And I will.
“ ‘A group of us will rent a house on Fire Island. I volunteered to do the dirty work so I could get a place in or near the town of Blue Harbor. That’s where Bill told Mom he was going the last time he came to see us.’
“There are a lot of short notes here,” Jack said. “She visited Blue Harbor, she mentions Honey Quinn, the realtor, the Kleins’ house, a couple of other houses. Let’s see. This must be her first weekend out here.” He moved his finger down the page.
“ ‘Walked around. Took a swim. Talked to a neighbor who’s lived here over twenty years. Said I should see an old man named La Coste. Will look him up next time.
“ ‘Found La Coste. He’s really old, over ninety. Asked him about deaths in Blue Harbor fifteen or so years ago. Says he doesn’t remember any. Went to police station. Cop named Springer. Wasn’t here when Bill disappeared. Doesn’t like “fishing expeditions” into his files but said maybe next time I come he’ll let me look. Bernie La Coste says he’ll look in the files for me.’ ”
“Was Tina out here all summer?” Joseph asked.
“No. The group, there were about ten of them, shared the house. They alternated weekends so that about five were out here every weekend. Half of them came for the Fourth of July and the other half for Labor Day. Most of them took their vacations out here for a week or two. Tina took the weeks before and after Labor Day, the way we did.”
“So Tina had only a small number of weekends to work on her project.”
“That’s the way it looks,” Jack said.
“Sorry for the interruption. Please go on.”
“ ‘Bernie La Coste saw the police files! Made a list of several years of fights and disturbances when I got back. No one named Bill or Will or William. No Jamieson at all. No one killed. No one even badly hurt. No drownings. No boating accidents. Where is he? Nobody seems to be hiding anything. Could he have come and gone and then disappeared?
“ ‘Housemates worried that I don’t join in the “fun.” I do but they expect more. Kyle very sweet. I like him but can’t spend all my time with him and don’t feel like explaining what I’m doing. Have to keep looking. Maybe get together in the winter.
“ ‘Talked to a couple of people where fights took place. They don’t even remember them so how important could they have been?
“ ‘What else is there? Bernie talked about big fire about that time if he has his dates right. But house was empty. Next time.
“ ‘Not much time left. It poured two weeks ago. Stayed home. Nice weather this weekend. House that burned down in Bernie’s “Great Fire” is really gone. Talked to people across the street. Said nothing was left except chimney. Same as Bernie said. Lots of firemen. Lots of water. Everything a mess afterward. Could Bill have been there? Could he have set fire?
“ ‘Went to firehouse. Like a sitcom. Old guys sit around playing cards and pool. Won’t let me look at their files.’ ”
“That’s interesting,” I interrupted. “When I was down there this morning, Fred invited me into the chief’s office. He said their files were open to the public.”
“Maybe they removed something damaging after Buckley died,” Jack suggested.
“You’re talking about a conspiracy. With a lot of people involved. Maybe they just didn’t want Tina poking around. Maybe the person she talked to didn’t feel he had the authority to let her look. Or was too lazy to show her the files.”
Jack turned a page.
“ ‘This is a mess. I’ll never find out what happened. Maybe he just met a girl and took her to California. Maybe he’s not my father after all. Maybe he and Mom had a fight and they split up. But she told me he was going to Fire Island. She said he was going to Blue Harbor. What if he went swimming and drowned and got washed out to sea? He was a daytripper. No one knew who he was. There isn’t much to check anymore. If I don’t find out the truth on my vacation, it’s all over. I think he drowned. I think he’s dead. I think he’s in California.’ ”
“Poor thing,” Joseph said. “This search really consumed her. If this man was really her father, someone should have told her.”
“He may not have been,” Jack said. “It could have been a fantasy that wouldn’t let go.” He looked down at the page.
“ ‘This is it. Got here this afternoon (Sunday). The alternate gang hadn’t left yet. Had to wait to get into my bedroom. They’re complete slobs. They don’t even blow the dust away. What a mess.
“ ‘Saw Bernie. He just likes to talk. Sat on his deck and listened. Said Polly Adler used to live on Fire Island. Then he talked about the hurricane of thirty-eight. Must have been awful. Houses swept into the sea. Roofs lifted off. Walls collapsed.
“ ‘Finally I asked him if I could talk to a fireman about the Great Fire. He said see Chief Buckley. Stopped at Chief Buckley’s house on the way back. No one home.
“ ‘Tried the firehouse this morning. No one knows where he is. Maybe off island. Sure to come back for Labor Day.
“ ‘Tried the firehouse again. No Buckley. Not at home either.
“ ‘Success! Talked to Chief Buckley today. Says he remembers the Great Fire very well. Says there isn’t much to tell but why don’t I come over on Labor Day? There’s some party on the beach and we can talk in his house. Hope he doesn’t come on to me. He’s got to be fifty and I like Kyle better.
“ ‘Have to organize my thoughts. When was fire? (Date and time) Anyone hurt? Whose house? Who was home? Names, addresses. Was it arson? Accident? Whose fault? Why can’t I think of anything else to ask?
“ ‘Labor Day. This is it. They’re setting up tents on the beach. Ran into Bernie.’ ”
Jack looked up. “That’s all.”
“It ends just like that?” I said.
“Just like that.” He flipped pages but they were all empty.
“It’s just like stepping off a cliff. My heart is pounding. I feel as if I were the one who was going to the Buckley house.”
“She must have been too upset when she came back to write anything,” Joseph said.
“Or too busy trying to hide the coat she picked up,” Jack said. “She had to ink out what was probably Buckley’s name and get it out of the house before the police came to question her. Once she saw Chris, she knew she was in trouble.”
“But we still don’t know what happened,” I said. “She never mentions a weapon. We don’t know whether she went to his house with or without the gun that killed him. And I have to say, if he was waiting for her in bed without any clothes on, it looks as though he, at least, had something more planned than a question-answer session.”
“She says in the book that she hopes not,” Joseph said. “Although I guess she could have written that to protect herself.”
“Then why write anything?” I was beside myself with disappointment. “Why even mention she was going to his house?”
“I gotta tell you, I owe Bernie La Coste a big apology,” Jack said. “Remember what I said about his tale about ‘Uncle Bill’?”
“You’re forgiven,” I said. “The way he told it, it sounded like the whole thing was made up.” I turned to Joseph. “It was really hard to take Chief La Coste’s story seriously, but it’s exactly what Tina has in her book.”
“I feel very sorry for the poor child,” she said.
“Well, ladies, it looks like we have as many unanswered questions as we had before and we have guests coming in a little while. I think we can be pretty sure Tina got back across the street in a panic. I remember what you said, Chris, about when you followed her. She came to a fence she couldn’t scale and she was practically screaming with frustration.”
“That’s right. Whether she killed Ken or found him dead or just walked into the house and found the kitchen on fire, it must have really panicked her. And then when she was trying to slip away without anyone seeing her, I recognized her under the coat and started to follow her home.”
Joseph stood up. “I’m waiting for my assignment. Set the table? Carry food somewhere? Stir something? I’m at your service.”
Jack closed the notebook and slid it back into the plastic bag. “Dinner first, homicide later. Here we go.”
It was a wonderful evening and the three of us almost forgot what had riveted us at the kitchen table earlier. The Jorgensens brought an excellent bottle of wine—well, Jack said it was excellent; my taste buds still haven’t matured—and we never seemed to run out of conversation.
Before we ate, I talked to Al privately for a few minutes and said I had come to believe that his friend whose daughter had been involved with Ken Buckley probably had no part in his death, and Al said he’d never thought he did. He took Joseph and me by the arms and walked us along the beach heading west, as he and I had walked together a few nights earlier. The last of the sun was still streaking the clouds with a vibrant pink, and Joseph exclaimed her pleasure.
I looked around for the solitary man on his beach chair, for the glow of a cigarette on the dune, but there was nothing. “I don’t see Chief La Coste tonight,” I said to Al.
“He’s probably gone to bed early. He went to the funeral, didn’t he?”
“No, he didn’t. He said Eve told him not to come because he might get too upset.”
“Good advice. Eve’s a wonderful woman. Ken was lucky to have her.”
I felt uncomfortable. Bernie La Coste was too old not to worry about. But Al was talking about other things, showing Joseph the nighttime vista. There were the lights of Fire Island, stretching for miles. He named the towns in order, giving each a brief description. He showed us where the tide had reached the last time it came in. He was voluble and easygoing, and when we finally turned around and walked east again, I was surprised how far we had come.
“And down at the eastern end of the island,” he said, pointing ahead of us, “is the preserve, twenty-five miles set aside for the deer. The deer, in this case, get three times the land that the people get.” He kept talking, describing what Joseph would not have time to see on this very brief visit. “Yes, everything’s changed,” he said nostalgically. “Those ferries they run nowadays? Before they got those going, they used to use old rum-runners from the Twenties. Took forever to cross the bay and only held twenty, twenty-five people. These new ones hold a hundred and twenty and only take half an hour. But you know that if you took one out.”
It was cool and breezy. There were no evening swimmers and few people sitting on the beach. Joseph had decided to go home tomorrow. I had offered to take her to the Catholic church for mass tomorrow morning and again on Sunday, but I think when she saw the price of the water taxi, seven dollars each round trip, she decided against it. I was happy to pay, but she said it was better if she returned on Saturday and attended mass Sunday morning at St. Stephen’s. Joseph is a very decisive person, and I’m sure she knew that my offer was genuine, so I did not press her.
Jack’s dinner was marvelous and the wine struck him as a perfect accompaniment. Joseph offered a toast to all of us, and I felt very happy that she had been able to come, to share our vacation home, to eat well and talk to pleasant people.
Before the evening was over, I asked the Jorgensens if they had somehow come into possession of our second set of house keys.
“We have our own set,” Marti said. “Have you misplaced yours?”
“They disappeared from the board in the kitchen and we haven’t been able to find them. I didn’t really think you had them, but I don’t know who else to ask.”
“Well, you know keys. They have a habit of getting lost and turning up in the strangest places.”
“Maybe we’ll find them tomorrow when we clean up.”
“I’ll keep a good watch on the house, Chris. Al’s going back home on Sunday but I’ll stay for a while. It’s always so nice and quiet when the summer people leave.”
But I couldn’t help wondering about the keys. Could someone have come in when we weren’t home and snatched them? Could it have been Kyle?
After the Jorgensens left and we were all in the kitchen cleaning up, I mentioned to Jack that Chief La Coste hadn’t been sitting in his usual spot on the beach.
“Want me to run over and check?” he asked.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea. Take the bike and I’ll finish up the dishes.”
“We’ll finish up,” Joseph said.
Jack needed no more encouragement. I filled the dishwasher and got started on the few pots and the dishes that we preferred to do by hand.
“A wonderful evening,” Joseph said. “I never imagined such luxury.”
“You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go up to bed so you don’t miss your sunrise?”
She hesitated, but this time I pushed and she went off to bed. Jack took longer than I expected and I began to worry. What if the chief had become ill? Even avoiding the funeral would not keep him from thinking about the terrible events of the last few days.
But Jack returned eventually, and in good spirits. “He says he dozed off after dinner and then it was too cool to go to the beach. I joined him for a brandy and did a lot of listening.”
“I’m glad you went.”
“Me, too.” He kissed me. “It was damn good brandy.”