It actually took me and Stump more like thirty minutes to get there, but Viv still wasn't ready to go. While she primped her hair and put on fresh lipstick, I pulled up the security camera footage again. I was glad to see her back in normal clothes today—chocolate brown slacks and a gold satin button-down shirt, with a brown jacket over it.
I found the right time in the video and rose to stand beside her. The picture was a bit grainy and dark from the rain, but it was still possible to tell what we were looking at. The front part of the school still stood, and if you only looked at that part, you'd never know anything was wrong.
“Okay, check the date,” I said. I tilted the phone so Viv could see.
“November third?” she asked.
I nodded. “The day Peter Browning disappeared. Look at this.”
The car entered the frame—a light-colored hatchback, the kind we knew Peter Browning drove. It entered the driveway to the school and then the parking lot, driving first straight down the middle of the drive, then hugging the right side of the road, then back to the middle. Even on this small screen, I could tell that the license plate would probably be easy to make out on a larger screen. The car drove slowly to the front of the parking lot, slowing even more as it reached the very front of the building where the sidewalks converged to provide one wide entryway into the building. It stopped there for a few seconds, then, with a quick burst, it sped out of the frame and presumably out of the lot.
“See that!” I said. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Did something move on the other side of the car? Look again.”
I dragged the dot back a bit. Watched again as the car made its wobbly way up the driveway and to the drop-off loop.
“There!” I did see something. Something small and barely perceptible, but it was there. I was almost sure.
We rewound again. “Now look, there on the passenger side. Something moves right before he speeds up and drives off.”
It was almost impossible to see, because the movement was on the other side of the car. And it could have been nothing—just a blip, some static or something, a glitch in the film. Except this was digital. Did digital recordings get blips? I had no idea. But it looked like just the merest hint of movement at the passenger door. A small triangle, darker than the rest of the area around it.
“Did the passenger door open?” Viv asked.
“That's what I am wondering.”
We watched it again. And again.
It could be.
I tried to imagine Peter Browning's frame of mind as he drove up to the school that night. Driving by the school would certainly support the theory that he felt remorse for the death of David Baucum—this school was the scene of Baucum's own undoing, after all. It was the scene that Browning himself brought to the public's attention, again and again, relentlessly.
If he had swung by the scene of this devastation on the way to intentionally carrying out his own death, it could have meant that despite the self-assured face he put on, he was consumed by guilt over David Baucum's death, the shuttering of the firm.
But...was he alone? I tried to gauge the distance from the driver's side to the passenger door. Peter was a tall man, so he probably had long arms. The car was small. It was within the realm of possibility that he had leaned over and opened the door, before driving away.
But why? Had he thrown something out?
I took out the notebook I had been writing notes in. “We have to tell Bobby all of this.”
Viv frowned. “We do?”
I chewed my lip. “Yes?”
She made a groaning noise. “This is rubbish. He'll probably get a promotion and a raise from this. You know that, don't you?”
“Yes, I know.” I thought for a moment. “Of course, when it comes right down to it, I'm the one with the concerned husband. There's no reason you couldn't follow up on this lead.”
She curled her lip. “That wouldn't be nearly as much fun.”
Like the complete dork I am, I teared up.
She sighed and stood. “Oh, well. We might as well get this over—” She stopped when she looked at me. “Oh, good grief. Are you crying?”
“No,” I said, through tears. “Don't be stupid.” I sniffed and cleared my throat. “You're crying.”
“You're not pregnant, are you?”
“No!” I hadn't meant for it to come out so loud. Even Stump flinched a little. “I mean, no. I don't think so. I'm just a little emotional. My aura's all out of whack.”
“Well, get a grip. You're not a civilian yet.” She locked up and we headed toward the elevator. “You need to keep a steely grip on your nerves for a bit longer.”
“Okay, I have never had a steely grip on my nerves, as you well know.” I pushed the elevator down button. “You should have seen me this morning when I realized that we had been talking to David Baucum's half brother and I hadn't even known it.”
“Why should that scare you?” Viv fluffed her hair in the reflection of the elevator doors. She rolled her lips together and stepped back as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
“Because. What reason would he have for being so...secretive?”
“Well, he didn't do anything.”
“Not that we know of. But...why is he lying about who he is? What reason could he have?”
“Has he actually lied?”
“Well, he hasn't been honest. I mean, we don't even know his name. We've had all these conversations with him. He's had every opportunity to tell us who he really is, and he hasn't. Doesn't that imply some ill intent?” I said as we headed for the front doors.
“It is odd.”
“It's very odd. I think we should find out what it means.”
I heard something around the corner as we approached it. I almost jumped out of my skin. I whirled and faced the perpendicular hallway in a crouch, fully expecting to see what's-his-name ready to bring something heavy down on my head.
Instead, we saw Nigel, frozen in the middle of the hall runner. He had a most definite “I'm caught!” look in his eye.
I stood with an apologetic smile for him. Poor guy. It must be wearing him out that Viv was after him so blatantly. He probably had all he could handle on his plate with poor Anne.
His eyes darted between the two of us. “I—uh, I forgot something in my room.” He turned and hurried away.
Viv grabbed my shirt. “Come on!” Viv whispered. “I thought of another one this morning.”
We quick-footed after Nigel, while Viv hissed, “You say, 'How long has it been since you've played cribbage.'“ She gave me a raised-brow look, then nodded.
“What? What is that?”
She grimaced at Nigel's retreating back. “Just say it. Now!”
“How long has it been since you've played cribbage?” I shouted after Nigel.
“It's been at least a bloody fortnight!” Viv shouted back.
Nigel kept up the hasty retreat. I was getting out of breath, so I slowed.
After a few moments, Viv gave up, too. She watched Nigel around the next corner, then turned back, her shoulders slumped. “Come on. Let's go give Mr. Hot Detective the lead of his career.”
––––––––
There was a new receptionist at the police station and she got, frankly, quite rude when Viv and I walked through with Stump.
“Excuse me!” she shouted through her glass partition. She slid it back so she could direct the full force of her outrage at us. “Where do you think you're going?”
“We're going to see Detective Sloan about an important murder case.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Viv gave me the side-eye and waltzed up to the window. “Let me see. Do we have an appointment? Why don't you check your little book there?”
Her gaze never leaving Viv's, she said, “Nope. Nothing in my little book.”
I joined Viv at the window and, just to be annoying, positioned Stump so that her front feet rested on the counter.
I checked the name plate. “Jeannie? Jeannie. Nice to meet you. I'm Salem, and this is Viv.”
Viv gave her a flat smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“I know who you are,” Jeannie said.
I was guessing Jeannie was about ten years older than my mom. She had dyed long blond hair that swept back from her head in big waves. I had seen that style in pictures of the ‘70s. It was probably the style she'd had in high school, and she just never changed it. You had to admire that kind of commitment.
“So Bobby's told you about us?” I asked. “Good. We don't have an appointment, but we do need to see Bobby. It's important. We have a lead in the Peter Browning case.”
“Have a seat.”
“He won't mind if we go on back to his office,” Viv said. “We've been there before. We know where we're going.”
“Have a seat.”
“Has he told you that we've worked together on other cases? Did he tell you we brought down the Hombres' cock-fighting ring?”
“Have a seat.”
Viv's mouth thinned, but she said nothing for a moment.
“Maybe you could just call Bobby right quick and tell him we're here,” I suggested.
“Have a se—”
“We're having a seat!” Viv barked. She stalked toward the plastic chairs at the other side of the room.
Jeannie picked up the phone and bent her head to look at the keypad.
The second she did, Viv raced for the door and jerked the handle.
The door rattled loudly. It was locked.
I looked at Jeannie, who stared stonily at Viv as she dropped the handle and stomped away grumbling. Jeannie talked into the phone. She hung up and slid the glass partition back without another word.
Stump and I had a seat. Viv stalked back and forth, her heels clicking on the tile floor. I pulled my phone out of my purse. “Windy, call Bobby.”
“Gettin' him for ya now, Honey.”
I got his voicemail. “Bobby, Viv and I are in the lobby. We have some information for you. The dragon lady at the front desk won't let us in. Come get us, please.”
Ten minutes later, I called again. “Bobby, I'm quite sure I have at least two pieces of information you don't have. Come get us.”
Fifteen minutes after that, I called again. “Bobby, come on. Tony doesn't want me to investigate any more, so I can't follow up on these myself.”
Less than ten seconds later, he was at the door.
I picked up Stump and gave Jeannie a benevolent smile as we left. “Thank you so much.”
In Bobby's office, I pulled up the surveillance video I had found. “See? That's Browning's car, right? And look at this.” I jabbed my finger at the screen when the car stopped. “See?”
“What am I looking at?”
I dragged the blue dot backward. “Look at the passenger side.”
We watched it again. “He stops, he goes again,” Bobby said.
“Don't you see the door open? I think the door opened. The passenger door.”
“The door definitely opened,” Viv said.
Bobby groaned and watched the video one more time. Then he said, “What am I doing?” He hit the mouse on his computer, then studied my phone and typed in the URL. We all gathered around his computer and watched the whole thing play out again.
On the bigger screen, it was easier to see that something had happened on that side of the car, but it wasn't clear just what.
Viv and I waited while Bobby wordlessly watched the monitor. He dragged the car back and watched it three more times.
“Well?” Viv said. “Did you know Peter Browning had driven by that school the night he disappeared?” When Bobby didn't answer she said again, “Well, did you?”
Bobby sat with his hand on his chin, his finger over his mouth, staring at the screen.
Viv smiled at me. “He's stumped. We stumped him.”
“Do you think he was throwing something out, Bobby?” I asked. “Like, a note or something?”
Bobby gave me a look, but said nothing.
I sighed. “Are you going to say anything? Anything at all? What do you think this is?”
He frowned, then leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers over his belly and said, “This is a good find, Salem.”
I was so shocked I had to sit. “What?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Not saying it twice.”
Viv laughed and did a little victory dance, right there in Bobby's office. She mimed spiking a football.
Bobby let her indulge for a few seconds, then said, “We'll follow up on this. Now, go home and stay out of trouble.”
“That's it?” I asked. “That's all you're going to say?”
“Your husband asked you to quit doing stuff like this, didn't he?”
I nodded.
“Smart man. Now, again—good job, go home.”
Viv shook her head. “Sad. Your professional envy of us is just sad.”
The corner of Bobby's mouth tipped up, but he didn't answer.
I wanted to argue, but there really wasn't much I could say, either. I told myself to be glad we had found something that could be helpful, and let it go. I mean, I should start getting used to that, right?
This was no longer my purview. I mean, it had never been my purview, but I could no longer play like it was.
I stood and hefted Stump on my hip. “Fine. We're going.” As I reached the door, though, I turned back and said, “You could at least say thank you.”
The look he gave me...I wasn't sure what to make of it. He sat with his elbow on the arm of his chair, his hand over his mouth. He was watching me walk out of the room, his eyes filled with something that might possibly have been...regret? Sadness?
Seriously?
He straightened, gave me a small smile, and said, “Thank you, Salem. This is a good find.”
The ride away from the police station was a silent one. I kept seeing that look on Bobby's face. What had he been thinking? He couldn't possibly have been upset to know that Viv and I would no longer be bugging him for inside information or bringing largely useless information to him.
Could he?
To be honest, my feelings about Bobby were pretty mixed-up. I had had a crush on him for two solid years, from the beginning of the fourth grade through the end of the fifth grade. I had written Mrs. Bobby Sloan on every available surface. I had—to my undying mortification—written him love notes that I signed with my real name and left in his car.
It was kind of hard to get past all that, even now—even as a married woman who was in love with her husband. Bobby had kissed me, once, before Tony and I were reunited. It might have been an emotional impulse brought about by the fact that I had almost gotten myself killed.
But part of me couldn't help but entertain the notion that Bobby was a little, teeny-tiny bit attracted to me. And that part couldn't help but be flattered by the idea.
However, that was a thought I had to put out of my mind. Tony didn't deserve a wife who was playing imaginary flirting games with another man. Even if I was sure nothing would ever come from it—and I was quite sure of that—Tony didn't deserve for me to even contemplate it for a minute. I knew how I would feel if I found out Tony had the slightest attraction for another woman—violence and destruction on a massive scale came immediately to mind. So, no. Bobby Sloan needed to be evicted from my head space before he could put down roots.
“You forgot to tell him your theory about David Baucum’s half brother,” Viv reminded me as we pulled into the Belle Court parking lot.
“Shoot.” I frowned at my phone. I dialed Bobby's number and put him immediately on speaker.
“Bobby, I forgot the other bit of information we had for you,” I said as soon as he answered.
“Let me get a pen,” he said.
I looked at Viv, who gave me an ‘I'm impressed’ eyebrow raise. We had definitely earned some props from Bobby by finding that surveillance video. He'd never bothered to write down anything we said before.
“Okay, you know David Baucum?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, he has a half brother who is here in town, but he hasn't told anyone that's who he is.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he's David Baucum’s half brother. But he hasn't said that.”
“Is he going under a different name or something?”
“Well, I don't know that.” He hadn't introduced himself, so I couldn't say for certain he was using an assumed name.
“What name is he going by?”
“I don't know that, either. That's the thing. We've talked to him on four separate occasions now—” I held up four fingers and gave Viv a questioning look. She nodded. “Four different occasions, and he never once mentioned who he was.”
Silence on the other end.
“Okay, I understand that it doesn't seem like much. But why is he being so secretive? We saw him out at the scene when Peter's body was found. Not a word. We talked to him in the parking lot where he works—”
“Where does he work?”
“Eagle Construction.”
“And he's using an assumed name there?”
“Well, I don't actually know that. I just think it's noteworthy that he had several opportunities to mention who—I mean, we were talking openly about Peter Browning's death, so you would think—but he never revealed that information.”
More silence. Then, “Did you ask him his name?”
I looked at Viv, and we both shrugged at the same time. We didn't remember if we had or not.
I felt my lead crumbling pitifully around me.
“Tell him about the other day at the Baucum Memorial,” Viv said.
“Yeah! We saw him and his mother—his mother has Alzheimer’s, he did tell us that much—at the Baucum Local Hero memorial thingy, and she said that her father was a war hero, but he—he kind of shook his head like he was denying it.”
“Did he come right out and say she was wrong?”
“Well, no, it was more of just a tiny shake of his head—”
“So it could have been anything.”
“But it wasn't anything. He was denying that his grandfather was a war hero, because we were standing right there in the tribute built for his grandfather the war hero, and he didn't want us to know who he was. That's noteworthy, don't you think?”
Bobby sighed, and even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was rubbing his forehead in exasperation.
“Salem,” he finally said. “Maybe—and hear me out, I'm just spitballing here—but maybe he was just a guy who has been through a lot of upheaval over the past few months and didn't want to get chatty with a couple of nosy women asking intrusive questions.”
I drew my head back. I looked at Viv. She looked as offended as I felt.
“His brother faced professional disgrace and ruin and is now dead, his mother is very sick and will never get better, and the family business is in the can. And here come two—”
“If you say nosy women again, I swear I will make you regret it,” Viv warned.
“Two people asking a bunch of questions,” Bobby said. Now, though, I could hear the smile in his voice. “And he doesn't feel like getting involved. I see nothing really noteworthy about that.”
I stared at the phone for a while. Viv killed the motor.
Finally, I said, “Thanks, Bobby,” and hung up. I slipped the phone back into my purse, feeling better.
“You look happy. Why do you look happy when he insults us?”
“His condescending attitude means I don't have to worry that my childhood crush gets revived.”
Viv shrugged and opened her car door. “Whatever gets you through the day, I suppose.”
As we walked back through the halls of Belle Court, I said, “Let's go see Anne.”
“We can't. You've got your kid.” She nodded toward Stump.
“Shoot. That's right.”
“I can watch your dog.”
I turned and froze in shock. Imogene Walker stood behind us.
When I just stood there, mouth slightly agape, she said again, “I can watch your dog. You should go see Anne. She's having a good day today.”
I looked down at Stump. “She has...issues. Sometimes she freaks out when I'm gone and starts...” I searched for the right word.
“Screaming bloody murder,” Viv said.
I gave a grudging nod.
“She'll be fine.” Imogene reached for her.
Reflexively, I tightened my grip. Stump groaned.
Imogene fixed me with her steely gaze, and I dropped my hands.
I'm sorry, Stump, I said silently as she was lifted away from me. I was the worst mother ever.
But Imogene cradled her close, the way Stump liked to be held, and looked down at her. The closest thing I'd ever seen to a smile played at the edges of her mouth. “You look a bit like my Mookie,” she said.
Stump stared up at her, then gave a loud belch.
When Imogene did no more than raise an eyebrow and say, “Is that so?” I felt like things were probably going to be okay.
“We'll be in my cottage,” Imogene said as she walked away.
Viv grabbed my elbow and dragged me down the hallway. I watched them go, thinking this was what mothers must feel like when they drop their kids off at kindergarten the first time.
We were two or three hallways down Belle Court's labyrinthine structure when Viv said, “I'm proud of you. You've gone probably a good 75 or 80 yards without turning back.”
“Only because I'm too afraid of Imogene not to do what she tells me to.”
“Still.”
I had noticeably slowed, though. I was falling behind Viv and looking back over my shoulder, listening for the telltale tortured howl that meant I needed to go running, when Viv suddenly stopped in mid step.
I crashed into her back.
Facing her in the otherwise empty hallway was Nigel, holding the handle of a rolling suitcase. He carried a box under his other arm, and a smaller bag hung from that hand. His eyes were wide, his mouth open.
“I haven't done anything!” he shouted. Then he pulled himself back at the shoulders and nodded once, his mouth firm. “I have done nothing illegal, and there's not a thing you can do to me.”
Viv and I looked at each other. She looked as confused as I felt.
“Is that right?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
Then it dawned on me. What he'd just said was not in a British accent. What was going on here?
The best defense is a good offense, I remembered from the poster hanging in my middle school gym. “How can you even say that?” I stepped around Viv and crossed my arms over my chest, tossing my nose in the air. “Done nothing wrong,” I echoed with a sneer.
“I said I've done nothing illegal.” He continued to eye Viv with distrust. “For that matter, though, I have done nothing wrong. I gave Anne what she needed and what she wanted. She wanted a charming gentleman to keep her company as her brain cells slowly dribbled away, and that's what I gave her. I have made her happy for a few weeks, and I would have gone on making her happy if you would have kept your clever little nose out of things—” He jabbed a finger furiously at Viv. “You with your—your taunts and questions at every turn, trying to trip me up.”
Viv sneered back at him, tossed me a look that clearly said she had no idea what was going on, then turned back to him and crossed her own arms. “Yes, well...” She nodded decisively as if to say, “Heck yeah.”
“You're not even British!” I shouted.
“I never said I was.”
“Seriously?! You said you were an RAF pilot, you told people you were a war hero. You talked with a fake accent!”
“Which is not illegal, I again point out.”
“It's illegal to pose as an RAF war hero,” I said. I had no idea if it was or not, but I seemed to remember from some TV show that it was illegal to pose as someone from the US military, so probably...
“No, it's not!” The vehemence in his voice told me that he was someone who had studied the statutes very well. “Not unless you take some kind of benefit from it—a free meal or a free bus ride or something.”
“What about free nookie?” Viv shouted. “It's probably illegal to pose as a war hero so you can get free nookie!”
“That was mutually given,” Nigel said. “An even exchange, thank you very much.”
Since we were smack-dab in the middle of territory I didn't want to explore further, I said, “What's your real name? I know it's not Nigel.”
“Exactly,” Viv said, fighting to catch up now that she'd caught on. “That's the most ridiculous name I've ever heard, by the way.”
“It's very British,” not-Nigel said.
“It's too British. It's the Britishest British that ever Britished! And I can't wait to tell Anne what a charade you are.”
She stalked past Nigel toward the elevator to the fifth floor.
Viv worked her mouth in anger all the way up to the Alzheimer's unit. “That—that fool! What in the world was he playing at?” She shook her head, her mouth a thin line. “He must have loved how he had all those poor women fooled.”
I checked her reflection in the elevator door. I did not say anything.
“Poor Anne. She was so—so taken in by him. Bless her heart.”
“Well, if she'd had all her faculties, like you do, maybe she could have spotted it—”
“I know what you're thinking,” Viv said, glaring at me. “And I'm not having it. Yes, I was attracted to him. He's an attractive man. But I knew, on a certain level, that he wasn't legit.”
“Did you?” I raised my eyebrows innocently.
“Of course, I did! Why do you think I kept trying to trip him up like I did?” She tapped her temple. “A sharp mind is always working, Salem. Always working. My subconscious obviously knew the score, even if my conscious mind hadn't caught up to it yet.”
I nodded as the doors slid open. “Whatever gets you through the day, I suppose.”
Viv marched up to the desk. “We're here to see Anne,” she said to the nurse. “We have some shocking news that she needs to hear.”
“Well then, you better just march yourself right back out that door,” the nurse said, pointing back the way we'd come. “Because we do not do shocking news on this floor.”
Viv frowned. “Look. Anne has a very close friend who, it turns out, is not who he said he was. She will be expecting him to come see her, and she needs to know that he's a louse who is hightailing his chicken butt out of town as we speak.”
“Were they close?”
Viv's frown deepened. “Yes.”
The nurse frowned, too. “Well, then. We will give this information to her family, and we will let them and her doctors decide if and how to tell her.”
Viv appeared to be thinking about it.
“I mean it, Ms. Kennedy. A shock like that could really set her back. Alzheimer's and dementia are greatly exacerbated by trauma.”
“She will need to know that something has happened, though. She'll wonder why he isn't coming to see her.”
“And we will send his regrets until such time as she is ready to hear it. Or else we won't. But that won't be for you to decide.” She put her hand on her hip and studied Viv. “Now. Do you still want to see Anne? Because if you go in there spouting off, I'm gonna tell the nurses on your floor to slip some powerful laxatives into your morning coffee.”
Viv raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I ain’t playin’, Viv.”
“Fair enough,” Viv said. “Please arrange to have her family get in touch with me.”
The nurse looked at me. “I'm counting on you to remind her of her responsibilities.”
A chill went through me. I wasn't sure I was up to the task.
I followed Viv to Anne's room, looking back over my shoulder at the nurse. She watched me with a lifted eyebrow.
Viv took a fortifying breath outside Anne's door, then knocked lightly.
Anne stood beside the table in her new room, going through a stack of folders and loose papers.
“Viv! Salem! This is a nice surprise!”
“We came to see your new digs!” Viv planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the place. “Very nice. I like the colors.”
Anne gave her a patient smile. “You don't have to put a positive spin on it, Viv. I know where I am and I know what's going on. I do pretty well, still, as long as the sun is up. For some reason the night time gets me confused. But right now I am lucid enough to know why I'm here and the situation I'm in.”
“I”m sorry,” Viv said, and she seemed as close to tears as I'd ever seen her. Which made my own throat close up and my eyes burn.
“Oh, I know. You're sorry, I'm sorry, everyone is sorry. Not a thing any of us can do about it, though.” She dropped into a chair and shrugged, a stack of papers in her hands. “But, it's not really that bad. I mean, I would have liked more. But it's not as if I didn't have a fantastic life. I was just sorting through these papers and reliving my teaching days. It's silly to keep them all this time, I know.” She leaned forward and gave me a conspiratorial smile. “But I only kept the best. My teacher's pets.” She laughed and shuffled through the papers. “I know we're not supposed to have them, but we do. Favorite students. I had so many, too! Precious kids who became precious adults and are friends still. Do you know, I have students who still come to visit me? They graduated forty years ago and still come to see me. Because I taught them about Dickens or Poe, or helped them learn how to appreciate a poem. Now, someone who has lived that kind of life can hardly complain, can they?”
Viv and I agreed, but it still seemed too sad.
Anne took a deep breath and slapped her hands onto her knees. “And just where is Nigel, anyway?” she asked. “That scoundrel. He promised he'd come see me this afternoon and it's almost—” She looked around for the clock. “Why, it's almost dinner time.”
Viv and I exchanged a look, which was a mistake.
“What?” Anne asked. “Why are you looking at each other like that?”
My heart thudded. I looked at Viv.
“Look,” she said with a sigh. “We didn't want to have to tell you this.”
“Viv,” I said.
“Salem, she needs to know. She's going to find out sooner or later.”
I stood. “Viv, don't—”
Viv put her hand out to stop me. “Nigel's kids came and got him. This afternoon.”
“What? Why?”
“Apparently they wanted him to live with them all along, but he didn't want to be a burden to them. You know how...selfless and considerate he was.” She had to spit the last words out, but she got it done. “Also, I remember him saying something about what a control freak his daughter is.”
Anne frowned, putting her hand to her mouth. She looked unsure. “Yes...”
“They showed up with no warning. His daughter made a big fuss and he couldn't very well say he'd prefer to live here than with her and her family. They have an entire suite for him in their house. They brought all these brochures for programs around there that he can be involved in. Even a World War II veterans group that he can be a part of. They had it all worked out.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Anne said. “How nice for him.” She looked genuinely pleased.
“Doesn't it?” Viv looked out the window then back at Anne. “Anyway, he said he would be fine, of course, and expects to be treated very well even if he is constantly fussed over. He was quite upset that they wouldn't give him time to say goodbye. But hopefully he can come back for visits from time to time.”
“Oh, that would be nice.”
“And, he said that he would write to you as soon as he can.”
Anne smiled. “Of course. Of course he will write.” She frowned again. “I can't remember, Viv. Where does his daughter live?”
“Florida,” Viv said. She stood and smoothed at her blouse. “She lives in Port St. Lucie. Right on the coast.”
“He'll be by the ocean again, then. That will make him happy.”
“Exactly. Well, we need to be going. But we'll be back for visits, and maybe you can still hang out with us. Poetry night and all that”
“I will, if they let me out,” Anne said with a laugh.
“Why Florida?” I asked, just to have something to break the heavy silence on our elevator ride back to Viv's floor.
“I have a friend there. She can postmark the envelopes for me.”
“Envelopes?” Then it dawned on me. “You're going to write her letters? As Nigel?”
“Of course I am. I can't let her sit here and pine away for something from that loser, can I?”
I shook my head. “Definitely not.” I put my arm around her skinny shoulders and gave her a slight squeeze.
“Get off me.” She batted at my arm.
I grinned but withdrew and said no more.
––––––––
Chapter Sixteen