Once again I’d been instructed to turn tail. Only I was a detective, not a fucking dog. If I wasn’t going to let Lauren’s dismal family dynamics stop me, I sure wasn’t going to bend over for her temper. Stephen and Lauren were lying about her car, Biancho was hiding something behind Clifford’s fists, and I was bumbling. But fuck it, I was going to keep on, bumbling or not. Boots knew me well.

I toyed with visiting Alexis but quickly nixed the notion. Whatever possible rationalization I might concoct, seeing her was just more masochism. So I decided to talk to Paul Brown and see what he’d noticed the early morning of the drive-by. Paul had arrived on the scene before me and questioning him couldn’t be construed as messing with kids. Anyway, the man owed me a sweatshirt.

By the time I found his modest brick house it was late afternoon.

“I don’t know when to expect Paul,” Anne said at the front door. “Lately he’s been dropping by Vivian’s after work.”

“Vivian’s?”

“Lauren’s mother.” Anne’s tight, pinched face didn’t brighten at the thought.

“May I come inside?”

Anne looked flustered. “I generally don’t have people in without Paul.”

“How about I promise not to sell you a vacuum?”

“It’s been easier now that Heather’s back,” she said.

“You always stay home by yourself?”

Anne hesitated then opened the door. “Come in, but if Paul does return, you just got here, okay?”

Nothing like long term trust, but who was I to woof? “Paul the jealous type?” I asked, stepping through the screen door.

“Things are complicated these days,” Anne replied, leading the way to the living room. “Would you care for something to drink?”

“A beer would be great. No glass necessary. And an ashtray if it’s all right to smoke.”

“It’s fine. Paul doesn’t care for it, but that doesn’t stop Heather. Or me, for that matter. Make yourself comfortable.”

The room was nondescript, the only splash of color a tilted oil painting on one of its walls. Though smaller than the canvasses I’d seen at Stephen’s, the picture was just as good.

Anne returned with a Miller, a glass of water, and a large curved sea shell blotted with old yellow stains.

“Let me take those.” I put the beer and shell on a dark coffee table and pointed toward the picture before sitting at one end of the tired couch. “Original?”

“Heather gave it to us as a gift when she moved back in.”

“I met her at Lauren’s party. She seems like a real nice kid.”

“Everybody thinks so—except the man she lived with. Like mother, like daughter,” Anne murmured under her breath sitting down on the other corner of the sofa.

I lit a cigarette and waited for her to continue.

“May I have one?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Truth is, Paul gets furious when he catches me smoking,” Anne said. “I usually mooch off Heather.”

“No big deal.”

Anne inhaled gratefully. “You haven’t lived with Paul Brown. Anything can be a big deal.”

Her not so between the lines was beginning to bum me out. “Actually, I’m here to talk about the shooting after Lauren’s party.”

Anne shrugged, “The police think it was a gang thing.”

“I want to make sure.”

A fresh look of recognition crept into her eyes. “I knew we’d met at the party but I completely forgot about seeing you that morning. I’d taken a couple of sleeping pills and was pretty woozy. You came in with Alexis, right?”

“Right.”

“Paul was pissed you kept her out for that many hours.”

“He gets angry a lot.”

Anne sighed. “He usually keeps it to himself or at me when he’s around.”

“Was he upset at being dragged out of bed?”

“Don’t be silly, it was Lauren who called.” Anne stubbed her cigarette into the shell that I’d placed between us. “Do you mind if I take another? I don’t get many opportunities to smoke when Heather’s not home.”

I handed her the pack, “Take as many as you like.”

Anne took three and slipped two into the breast pocket of her short-sleeved blouse. “Do you remember the song “Whatever Lola Wants”?”

“Lauren gets?”

Anne nodded.

“Did it surprise you that she called? Paul was in his cups when he left the party.”

“The surprise was that she called the police. Lauren always calls here when there’s a problem.”

“You sound annoyed.”

Anne coughed and stubbed out her cigarette. “I am.” Her tight, thin lips began to quiver and almost immediately a few tears rolled down her cheeks. I automatically moved the makeshift ashtray, slid next to her, and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

“I never thought things would work out this way,” she gulped. “I keep waiting for it to change but...”

“You don’t have to talk,” I said removing my hand as her eyes dried.

But my questioning uncorked Anne’s pent up unhappiness. “It’s all so crazy. Paul spends more time and money taking care of Lauren and Alexis than he does us. We barely scrape by. Look around, you see us living high off the hog?”

Anne didn’t wait for an answer. “Everything up here costs three times as much as anywhere else. Of course, it’s a privilege to live near the ocean,” she finished sarcastically.

“Can’t you move?” I asked edging back to my corner where I lit two more cigarettes and handed her one.

“I’d leave in an instant,” Anne said. “Paul says it’s the kids, but it’s really just Lauren and Alexis. And these days it’s probably Vivian as well. We’d do okay if he didn’t keep forking over half his check.”

Anne puffed nervously. “I can’t believe I’m talking like this. I don’t even know you.”

“I can appreciate what you’re saying. I’ve watched my father-in-law grow incredibly absorbed with Lauren and her family.”

A small smile tickled the corners of her lips. “Lou seems like a very good man. It just adds to the shock.”

“Of the shooting?”

“No, no,” she waved her hand. “No one ever imagined Lauren would get serious about anyone, especially a man so traditional. I’m no shrink, but I’m sure Ian’s suicide attempt had something to do with their relationship.”

No shrink, but honest enough to call Ian’s “accident” what it was. And the same as Stephan’s analysis. I tried to make her feel better. “Well, the divorce ought to help with your money problems,” I said, finishing off my beer. “I don’t think Lauren will need Paul’s money.”

“What divorce? What are you talking about?” Anne appeared dumbfounded.

It took a moment to realize that no one had told her about Lauren’s decision. “Lauren’s going to finalize the divorce.”

Anne’s jaw clamped shut, her eyes blinked, and the hand that jammed the cigarette into the shell trembled. I reached for my pack to offer her another but she shook me off.

“I’ve smoked too many already,” she said, her voice frozen steel. “I’ve talked too much as well,” she added, rising to her feet.

“And I overstayed my welcome,” I apologized, joining her in a rapid walk to the front door.

“I want to keep this conversation between us.” She looked at me, “The entire visit, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“No problem. Any particular reason?”

“If Paul finds out that I was crying about our relationship to a stranger I’ll never hear the end of it.”