I told Trish I was going to the police station and raced to my car. Minutes later I stormed into the precinct. Gracie raised her eyebrows when she saw me red-faced and out of breath.
“John’s in his office with your mother and her lawyer.”
“Is she being charged?”
“No clue. It’s been a full house today. I can’t imagine John’s charging the whole bunch of them. We haven’t enough cells.”
“Can I join them, do you think?”
“I’ll find out.”
Gracie left and returned a few minutes later. “John said he’s almost through interviewing your mother. She’ll be out very soon.”
Thank God he isn’t holding her! I released a lungful of air. I was too tense to sit, so I paced the small waiting area. Why were my mother’s prints in Ilana’s room? She’d never mentioned going there.
My mother looked subdued as she walked toward me. Her lawyer, a Paul Giamatti look-alike in a gray three-piece suit, followed a few paces behind. She murmured something to him, and he approached.
“Carrie, pleased to meet you. I’m Phil Demuth.” We shook hands.
My mother gave me a shamefaced smile. “Sorry to drag you away from work, Carrie.”
“How did you get here?” I asked.
“Phil drove me.”
“I can drop her back at your cottage”—he glanced at his watch—“if we leave right now. I’m meeting a client at my office in forty-five minutes.”
“Is there anything I should know?” I asked him.
“Linda’s not being charged, though Lieutenant Mathers might want to speak to her tomorrow.”
“I’ll drive her home,” I said, and turned to my mother. “Wait here. I want to speak to John before I leave.”
John was on the phone when I entered his office. He cut his conversation short when he saw me.
“Sorry, Carrie. Your mother’s prints were on Ilana Reingold’s doorknob and a few articles inside her room.”
“That doesn’t mean she murdered her.”
He exhaled loudly. “Of course it doesn’t, and—off the record—she’s not my number-one suspect in this homicide. The trouble is, when I questioned her yesterday, she never mentioned entering Ilana Reingold’s room.”
“She’s been staying with me. I’ll drive her home now.”
“Good. She worked herself into quite a state when I questioned her.”
“Probably because she’s having marital issues on top of all this.”
“So she said.”
“She doesn’t know it, but my father’s flying in tomorrow. To give her moral support.”
John burst into a loud guffaw. “That’s all we need—Jim Singleton on the scene.”
In the car, I told my mother we’d swing by the library so I could collect Smoky Joe, then head for home.
“I am so sorry, Carrie. I never wanted to be a burden to you,” she said.
“Why did you go to Ilana’s room?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
“Why do you think? To tell her to stop flirting with Tom. I told her she had her chance to marry him years ago, but instead she broke it off and broke his heart.”
“What did she say to that?”
My mother pursed her lips. “She laughed at me. She said Tom still loved her and she could have him back anytime she wanted. I was furious. I wanted to hurt her. I picked up the vase …”
My heart began to pound. “And you hit her with it?”
She shook her head. “No, but I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to.”
“Then what happened?” I asked.
“Ilana seemed to change course. She said it would all be over soon and then I could have Tom back.”
“She wanted to make Dirk jealous,” I said.
“How do you know that?” my mother demanded.
“Tom came to see me at the library. He’s miserable and he wants you back.”
“What does he think—he can flit from me to Ilana and back again?”
“I think,” I said slowly, “that he was flattered when Ilana asked him to show interest in her and it got out of hand.”
My mother turned to study my expression. “It sounds like you’re advising me to go back to Tom.”
“Only if you want to.”
“I don’t know if I can trust him,” she said softly.
I drew a deep breath. “I have to tell you something. Dad’s coming to Clover Ridge.”
“Jim is?” Was that pleasure I heard, mixed in with her surprise? And why was she patting her hair? “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“He’s concerned about you and wants to be supportive. He’s flying in tomorrow.”
“He’s actually coming here because of me? There’s no need for that,” my mother said.
“Which is what I told him, but I couldn’t change his mind. He’s going to stay with Dylan.”
I pulled into the library parking lot and turned off the engine. “Be right back,” I said.
“I don’t mind spending time in the library while you finish your day’s work.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I’ll find some magazines to read or chat with some of your colleagues. It will be a relief to talk to someone not connected to the police or those movie people.”
“Well, all right, if that’s what you want—but Mom, they’re bound to ask you questions about the movie and Ilana.”
My mother shot me a knowing look. “Carrie dear, I’ll be fine.”
And she was. I left her chatting with Angela, who offered to show her around the library during her break. After greeting Susan and giving her an abbreviated version of my trip to the police station, I buckled down to some much-needed paperwork. I finally came up for air at four thirty, when I left my office to check on my mother and found her sitting at a table in the coffee shop with Marion, the children’s librarian, and Katie, who ran the coffee shop.
“Your mother’s been regaling us with stories about you when you were little,” Marion said.
“Really?” I said, wondering what on earth she’d remembered or had made up to tell them.
“Carrie dear, you’re so lucky to be working in this library,” my mother said. “Your coworkers are by far the nicest group of people I’ve met in a long time.”
Katie beamed at me. “And we feel the same about Carrie.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Mom, we’ll be leaving for home in half an hour. Please come to my office at five o’clock.”
“I’ll be there!” she said with a grin. Socializing with my colleagues seemed to have cheered her considerably.
My mother was practically euphoric on the drive to my cottage. She went on and on about how proud she was of me. I had finally settled down. I had a good job and a wonderful man in my life. She finished by saying, “Who knows? I might become a grandmother in a couple of years.”
Who is this woman and what has she done with my mother? “Mom, what put you in such a good mood?” I asked.
“Aren’t you glad that I am?” she asked, sounding peeved.
“Well, sure—I guess. I’m just surprised that you seem so happy after the harrowing day you’ve had, being questioned again by Lieutenant Mathers.”
“Carrie dear, I know I didn’t murder Ilana Reingold, and I have confidence in Phil Demuth.”
Oh no! A thought struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I didn’t like it one bit. “Mom, please tell me your good mood isn’t because Dad is coming.”
“And what if it is? I’m deeply touched that Jim’s coming all this way because I’ve been interrogated in a homicide case.”
“What about Tom?” I asked.
“What about him?”
“I’m just wondering if perhaps you should give him another chance.”
“We’ll see about that. Anyway, enough about this. I’m tired, and I’m going to close my eyes until we’re back at your cottage.”
While my mother rested in her room, I watched the local news on the living room TV. There were no new developments regarding the two homicides.
Dylan called me from his car. “I’m on my way to the airport to pick up your dad.”
“You’re kidding! I thought he was arriving tomorrow.”
“He changed his plans. Talk to you later.”
At six thirty, I was heating up last night’s leftovers when my mother came into the kitchen. She opened the cupboard and started setting the table.
“Wine or water?” she asked.
“Whichever you prefer.”
“I think water tonight.”
“Then water it is,” I said.
She reached for the tumblers and placed two on the table.
We chatted as we ate. I was surprised. There were no criticisms. No bragging. “This is nice,” I said when I’d swallowed the last of my dinner.
“It is, isn’t it?” My mother put her hand on mine. “I quite like having a daughter.”
I frowned. “Why didn’t you like having a daughter years ago?”
My mother studied my face. “I loved you and Jordan—really I did—but I didn’t have the stamina to deal with your father and raise two kids on my own. I’m sorry, Carrie, for not being the kind of mother you would have adored.”
I nodded. “I suppose I wasn’t the easiest daughter in the world.”
“You weren’t, but I was the adult. I should have tried harder.”
Something inside me urged me to get up and hug her. “I’m glad I have you now.”
She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed. “Me too.”