Fortunately for Freddy's self-esteem, Annie spoke half under her breath. I don't think he heard her.
Tom went over to him at once and took the printout. "You're a miracle-worker, Freddy. I'd slap you on the back but I don't think I ought to. How'd you do it?" The right response.
Jay and Bonnie clustered around Freddy and Darla, but I spared a glance at the two women before I joined the throng. Clara was rocking gently and smiling. Annie looked frozen.
I gave Freddy a light pat he probably didn't notice. He was busy laying on the technical explanations. Darla watched him with shining eyes. Hero worship. Very promising.
I went back and sat on the couch, trying to think of some way I could soothe Annie without dishonesty.
Clara gave a decisive rock. "I'm so relieved, Lark. Tom has been sweating that book. To lose it after all that work--"
Annie said, "We really should go."
I couldn't very well say don't rush off. I cleared my throat. "Would you like another cup of coffee?"
"No, I would not." She started to rise.
Clara said, "Sit down, Annie, and don't make an ass of yourself. I can see why Small Victories upsets you, but the last thing you ought to do is raise a ruckus."
Annie made a noise that was half gasp, half laugh, and sank back onto the couch.
"That novel is going to make a very large splash. You might as well get used to the idea. Think up a way of damning it with faint praise, if you have to, but don't let anyone see that Tom got your goat. Least of all Tom."
"But it's not accurate."
Clara sighed. "So it doesn't reflect your feelings. Why should it? Tom has already established himself as a writer of the first rank. Even if he's lying through his hat, everyone's going to praise the book for its honesty. You should be telling your subscribers how clever he is."
"Why do you care?" Tears stood in Annie's eyes.
"I care about Tom," Clara said bluntly. "I'm also fond of the peninsula, though, and I hate feuds. In spite of your silly prejudices, you do a lot of good work for the community, and you run a good newspaper. You can't derail Tom's success. He's earned it. But you can take advantage of it. Run a rave review."
Annie sniffed, but she was looking thoughtful.
"Magnanimity," said Clara, whipping out a cigarette and lighting it, "is never a mistake."
"Is it a good book?"
"Well, if you haven't read it all the way through, you certainly ought to. What if it does win the Pulitzer Prize?"
Annie's eyes narrowed.
"The first one took the Western Book Award," I murmured. "Did you review it?"
Annie shook her head.
"Home town boy makes good, huh?"
Annie flushed. "I didn't hear about it until it was out of print."
Clara gave an exasperated cluck. "You could have asked Tom for a copy. Last year you did a front page story with photos on a local cookbook author. Not to mention running excerpts of Judge Claymore's boring memoirs. Very small potatoes compared to Starvation Hill and Small Victories. Do you blame Tom for feeling hostile? He has a normal writer's ego."
"You could interview him," I suggested.
Clara said, "That's the idea."
Annie made a face.
At that point, the others rejoined us, still chattering in computerese. Jay said, "Do we have any champagne, Lark?"
"No, but there's a bottle of Cointreau."
"We ought to drink a toast."
I caught Bonnie's eye, and we scooted off in search of liqueur glasses.
I think Freddy enjoyed the limelight, but he had enough diffidence not to be obnoxious. All of us drank to his achievement except Bob, who slumbered on. Annie toughed it out. I had to admire her. She even took a sip when Bonnie toasted the new novel's success. I'm not sure Tom noticed. He carried the printout of his manuscript off to the guest room for safekeeping.
When Annie did announce her departure, there was the small awkwardness of rousing her sodden husband. She seemed not to know what to do. She shook his shoulder, and he mumbled something, but he didn't sit up or even open his eyes. In the end, Jay and Tom had to take a hand. Between them, they got Bob upright. He stumbled along obediently until they reached the front hall. Then he turned belligerent. He took a swing at Jay and connected with the coat rack. When Tom extricated him, Bob called him a Siwash bastard.
"Oh, Bob--" Annie sounded near tears.
Tom was rather tight-lipped. "All right, Colonel. Time to move out."
Annie choked. "That's not fair--"
"No," Bob said. "Oh, no. Going to be sick."
I opened the front door and held the screen wide. "Get him outside, Jay."
This time Bob didn't resist. He staggered onto the porch under his own power and stood there swaying.
I stayed in the doorway and let Tom, Jay, and Annie wrestle Bob out to the gleaming Mercedes. He threw up on Matt's rosebushes.
When he was safely strapped in the car, the two men started back to the porch, and Annie went around to open the driver's door. She stood in the rain for a moment, then turned and marched back to the porch.
She came straight to me. "I'm sorry we spoiled your dinner."
Tom said, "Dinner was fine."
She ignored him. "I should have left Bob at home. I knew he'd been drinking all afternoon."
I said, "It's okay," though it wasn't.
Her mouth trembled. "I won't apologize for anything I said, but Bob...he's been drinking this way since last week. I don't know what to do."
Jay said, "Maybe he should see a doctor, if he doesn't drink so much ordinarily."
Annie's face set in bleak lines. "He drinks. He doesn't have enough to do. But he's been much worse the last few days."
Tom said, "He tried to hit Jay. Has he turned violent?"
"With me?" She looked at him as if he had suggested she vote the socialist ticket. "No. Bob's a gentleman."
Jay said patiently, "What Tom's saying and what I was trying to suggest is that you're dealing with a sudden personality change. Sometimes there's a medical reason."
Her eyes widened. "A brain tumor?"
"Or a mild stroke. There are other possibilities."
Her mouth eased. "I hadn't thought of that. Maybe you're right. Thank you."
"It's worth a try. Is there someone to help you get him into the house when you reach home?"
She nodded. "Our son's still here--his school doesn't start for a week. We'll manage. Thanks. I am sorry." We said good night and she left.
Freddy and Darla were giving Bonnie the low-down on word-processors. When we entered, Darla broke off an impassioned defense of the Macintosh and said, with the righteousness of twenty-one years, "He was really disgusting."
Freddy nodded. "Gross."
Bonnie raised her coffee cup. "I'll drink to that."
Clara rocked. "Now, children. Don't be judgmental."
Darla said with spirit, "I don't see why not. I'll bet he makes jokes about drunken Indians."
I said, "He called you a Siwash, Tom. I hesitate to ask, but what does that mean?"
Tom shrugged. "In the Chinook jargon, it was just the way the native people referred to themselves. They called the white men Bostons."
"When white men use the term, they usually say 'dirty Siwash,'" Darla added. "In English it's a pejorative."
Tom sat in the chair beside Bonnie. "Actually, he called me a Siwash bastard. My mother decided to pioneer single parenthood before it was fashionable. The McKays disapproved. You will note that I didn't clean his clock."
Jay had fetched the coffee from the dining room. "If you'd knocked him out he would have been easier to get to the car."
Tom grinned. "True. Half a cup, thanks."
Freddy refused a refill. He was looking droopy. "I guess I don't know why having the McKays to dinner was such a big deal."
Clara rolled her eyes. "They wield a lot of power, my innocent. The family practically owns Kayport. Not to mention a vast Victorian gothic in the Enclave that's listed with the Historic Trust. Annie's not a bad egg. Robert McKay is no prize, but he's usually smoother. He's a womanizer."
"No shit." Bonnie took a sip of hot coffee and set her cup down. "I put up with that kind of harassment when I worked in an office, but I'm getting less tolerant in my old age."
Me, too.
Jay said, "A womanizer. Who, Clara?"
She contrived to look embarrassed. "He was supposed to be having a flaming affair with Cleo Hagen."
That created a silence that might have been called pregnant. I wondered what Clara's game was. She hadn't planned to come to the dinner, yet here she was springing revelations on us.
Jay leaned forward.
Tom frowned. "Are you sure? Bob wasn't her usual type."
"I'm not sure. I'm relaying gossip of the lowest sort. His affairs have been notorious for years, though."
Bonnie said, "What a jerk. Why doesn't Annie divorce him?"
Clara lit a cigarette. "The McKays own the Gazette. I imagine she could get a decent divorce settlement if she hired a good lawyer, but she couldn't stay on as editor of the family newspaper. She'd hate to lose the paper."
Jay said, "Did Annie know Cleo Hagen?"
"I'm sure they met." Clara flicked an ash. "But probably not socially. Annie's very busy these days, what with the paper and her committees and causes. She doesn't hang around cocktail lounges. Bob is at loose ends, though. His brother took over management of McKay Construction last January. Bob does a little investing and sits on a couple of boards, but he's basically retired. He's at the Blue Oyster almost every night. I've seen him there with Cleo and the real estate crowd."
"Including Jim Knight?" Jay said.
I gaped.
Clara sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that. Jim and Cleo had a thing going when she first came up here, but it didn't last long. Rumor had it that Jean was ready to leave him, but I guess they ironed out their differences. That was, oh, sometime in the fall. Cleo took up with Bob in January or February, after he retired and started staying at the house in the Enclave during the week. Before that, he had an office in Olympia."
Jay set the empty coffee pot on the freshly painted hearth. "What about Donald Hagen, did you see him at the Blue Oyster?"
Clara shook her head. "I've never seen the man at all. In fact, I used to wonder if he existed."
I retrieved the pot. "He exists."
Tom said, "Any other juicy tidbits, Clara?"
"Ungrateful whelp." She stubbed out her cigarette. "Tom said you were thinking of looking into the murder, Jay. I decided you ought to know about Bob and Cleo, but I wasn't sure how to approach the subject credibly. Fortunately, Bob made it easy for me. I thought he might."
Jay said, "Dale Nelson will have to know."
She nodded. "Okay. He should interview Kate Dalton. She's the bartender. And the other regulars."
"He did a round of questioning there. He got nothing."
"They're a clannish bunch, and Bob is a regular."
Tom scowled. "So was Cleo."
Freddy said, "You mean that drunk did the murder?"
"Freddy!" Darla sounded genuinely alarmed. She was going to be a great lawyer. Jay was frowning at his brother too, but Freddy had leapt to the natural conclusion.
"There's one other thing, Jay." Clara pushed herself up and the rocker thumped. "Kate said she thought Cleo had an assignation with Bob the evening before she was killed. Cleo was gabbling about it with her drinking buddies."
Jay had stood up when she did. He took a step toward her. "No shit?"
Tom let out a long whistle.
I clutched the empty coffee pot lest I drop it. Bonnie's eyes gleamed behind her glasses. Freddy and Darla just looked bewildered.
Jay said, "Do you mean the evening before her body was discovered or the night before that? Cleo Hagen was murdered around 10:00 p.m. Between eight and midnight, the M.E. said, but they think nine or ten."
It was Clara's turn to stare. "I was assuming Cleo was killed the morning Bonnie and Lark found the body." She looked rather frightened. "The date was for the evening before Cleo's body was found, the evening she was killed, if I got the story straight. You ought to ask Kate."
"I will," Jay said. "Dale will, too."
"I'd better go," Clara muttered. "Before I get myself in deeper water. I don't like cops. I beg your pardon, Jay, but I was a labor organizer in my salad days. And I taught art at San Francisco State during the sixties. I saw a lot of heads busted." She fiddled with her handbag. "It would be less inflammatory to say I don't always trust the law. But I thought somebody ought to look into Bob's activities. And Annie's. I don't know that there's anything to cover up, but the McKays have the power to squelch an investigation."
Jay said, "In this case, it'll be the McKays versus Donald Hagen and company. I don't envy Dale, trying to find out the truth with witnesses stonewalling all over the place."
Clara turned to me. "It was a fine dinner, Lark, and the living room looks great with a fire going."
I shifted the coffee pot to my left hand and shook hands. Though my feelings were ambivalent, I said I was glad she had come.
By the time we saw Clara off it was almost ten. Freddy was yawning, and Darla looked as if her pain pills had lost their effectiveness.
Bonnie was gathering coffee cups. She set Darla's on the tray. "You ought to be in bed."
"I'm not a child."
Tom said, "I'll drive you home, brat."
Bonnie stacked Freddy's cup on Darla's. "You can use my Escort while I help Lark clean up, Tom. No need to get the pickup. Just a sec. I'll dig out my keys."
"I can drive her," Freddy protested.
"Not with that medication in you." Jay retrieved Bob's coffee cup from the floor by the fainting couch. It was half full.
"Aw, Jay."
"He's right, Freddy." Darla rose and gave him a peck on the cheek, wonder of wonders. "I'll call you in the morning."
Freddy grumbled but raised no further objections. Jay headed straight for the telephone. He left a message for Dale.
We had cleared away the worst of the debris, Jay and Bonnie were drying wine glasses, and I was transferring salmon to a storage container by the time Tom returned.
He looked beat. "Where's Freddy?"
I closed the refrigerator. "He went to bed."
"I ought to thank him decently."
"Tomorrow." Jay set the last wine glass in the cupboard. "Want a brandy?"
Tom groaned. "An Alka-Seltzer would be more my speed."
"Well, have a chair."
"I was thinking about turning in."
"Soon," Jay said, "but I need answers to a couple of questions first."
Tom sat on one of the kitchen chairs. "No, I was not holding out on you. I did not know about Clara's bar-room gossip. I don't hang out at the Blue Oyster."
"That was one of the questions."
He leaned his head against the high chair back, eyes closed. "What else?"
"Did you see the McKay Mercedes the night of the murder?"
"Annie's car? No."
"What does Bob drive?"
"A Blazer, usually."
"I don't suppose you saw it cruising the neighborhood?"
"No, I was writing." He opened one eye. "You could ask Ruth Adams. Or those summer people across the street."
"Or Matt," I added. "Bob might have used the Shoalwater road."
"I'll talk to Matt and Ruth." Jay joined Tom in the nook.
I began to set up the coffee maker for morning. Bonnie wiped counters around me.
I said, "You called Bob 'colonel,' Tom. Out by the coat rack. What was that about?"
"Ancient history. I owed him a jab."
Bonnie went in to the nook, and I followed. "I minored in ancient history," she said.
Tom looked rather flushed. "It's a long story and doesn't bear on anything important."
I took a seat. "Annie said you weren't being fair."
"I wasn't. Bob is four years older than I am. He was finishing up a business degree at the UW the year Annie and I graduated from high school. His grades were lousy, so that meant his student deferment would run out, and he'd done ROTC. He was going to be commissioned a second lieutenant in the army."
Jay said, "Nineteen sixty-eight?"
"Sixty-seven." Tom shifted in his chair. "The half-life of second lieutenants was about a month at that point in the war, though he might've been sent to Germany or Korea. I was conscious of his little problem because I didn't have a student deferment. I started working on the boats as soon as I graduated, and I wasn't planning on going to college. So I decided to see if I could get a transfer to the National Guard when I was called up. I got my draft notice at the end of August. Right about this time of year."
"What happened?" Bonnie was fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers, but her eyes were on Tom.
"Well, I wrote a really heart-rending plea to the effect that here I was an orphan child and the sole support of my aging grandparents. There was no truth in it, and my grandfather hit the ceiling when he heard what I'd done. He didn't raise me to be a goddamn draft dodger, etc. The local draft board agreed. I went off to Fort Lewis for basic about the time the Gazette announced that Second Lieutenant Robert McKay had been posted to the Washington National Guard."
"That's not right!" I admit I'm naive about government.
Jay said, "String-pulling was pretty common."
"And not popular. One of Darla's uncles was killed in Nam. I had one tour. I spent enough time in combat to find out that the Great Spirit did not intend me to be a warrior."
"Doesn't take long." Jay was a combat medic.
Tom grimaced. "After Tet, I did nine and a half months typing letters and requisition orders for the battalion. I typed fast. I was also converted to the idea of higher education."
I said, "What about Bob McKay?"
Tom shrugged. "He stayed with the Guard, made patriotic appearances at Fourth of July picnics. By the time the Gulf War rolled around he was a company commander. You will recall that units of the Washington National Guard were activated and shipped to Saudi Arabia. Bob got sick."
"A chicken colonel," Bonnie muttered.
Tom grinned. "Now, now. That was the kind of irresponsible talk that circulated on the docks. Myself, I think it's a damned good thing Bob stayed at home. He did have an operation."
"Elective surgery?" I muttered.
Jay said, "You're right. It's not relevant, but it is entertaining. I have some other questions, Tom, but they'll keep. Has Darla been able to come up with an ID on the driver of that pickup?"
Tom got up, yawning. "She's a funny kid. I think she knows something. She's talking like a lawyer, though. Alleged this and alleged that. She won't name names unless she's sure of herself."
"Unlike Clara," Jay said.
"I think Clara's terrific," Bonnie announced. "G'night, everybody. It was a spectacular evening, Lark."
"In spite of Bob McKay?"
She grinned. "Because of Bob McKay."