I found the pool bottom and almost managed to stand, but Giselle was still trying to get her footing and she kept clawing at me, pulling me back under the water. I yanked her hair a couple of times and it came out of its upsweep. Finally, somehow, we both managed to stand up in the waist-deep water.
“I hate you, Marty Sheffield,” Giselle screamed. “You did this on purpose.” She grabbed Dicey’s necklace, pulling on it so hard that it cut into my skin.
I chomped down on her hand. She screamed, but let go of the chain, going for my nose instead. I grabbed for hers, giving it a fierce twist. No way was I going to let her get the best of me. I’d had too many years of practice on Charli.
Somehow, during the ensuing scratching and clawing, Giselle’s halter-top came undone. She let out a shriek that could have peeled paint and grabbed at the top of her dress. Two rubbery falsies came unstuck from her breasts and floated in front of me.
I snorted and pointed to them. “I believe these belong to you, Giselle.” Just being helpful.
She screamed again and then started clawing at me with her left hand while she held her top up with her right. I fought back, venting all the pent up frustration of having had her make me look like a fool for the past few months. Before we could kill each other, though, Kyle and Robby had us apart, Robby holding Giselle and Kyle holding me.
“Let me go,” Giselle screamed. “I’m going to kill her.”
“Not if I kill you first,” I yelled.
Kyle pulled me toward the steps. “That’s enough,” he said. “Please, both of you, just stop this thing right now. This isn’t the place for it.”
I realized right away that he was right. People were staring. About a million of them, from the looks of things. Including the two women who’d told me how grown up I looked. Oh, God. My mother. No doubt that she was going to hear about this.
In fact, as fast as gossip flows over the Glenvar grapevine, she probably already had. I figured the best thing to do was just to go ahead and drown myself. At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to her patented sighs and a lecture on how she just couldn’t understand where she’d gone wrong with me, because, Lord knows, she’d tried to raise me right, and I must have inherited it from the Sheffield side, probably from that rabble-rousing Aunt Flo whose behavior was so scandalous that Great-Gramma had to up and leave Charleston to avoid being tarnished by her younger sister’s reputation.
Even though I dreaded Mom’s wrath, I managed to let go long enough to follow Kyle up the pool steps. When I reached the top, someone handed me a thick towel, which I threw over my head. I’ve never been so humiliated in my whole life. Well, except for when Ricky Ray dumped me right before the wedding and took off to St. Maarten with Paula Dombroski on what should have been our honeymoon trip.
“Are you ready to go?” Kyle asked.
He seemed awfully calm for someone who was sopping wet and whose date had just totally embarrassed him by falling into a swimming pool and getting into a catfight. I couldn’t believe that he was being so nice to me. He actually laughed about the whole thing on the drive home, and when we arrived at his house, he invited me inside to dry off.
“I’ll loan you a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt while your dress dries,” he said. “That way we can finally have time to talk.”
His house was very tastefully decorated. Nothing spectacular, but manly and comfortable looking. He gave me the promised clothes and I changed into them in the bathroom.
I pulled a comb through my snarled hair and studied myself in the mirror. I never wear makeup, but Charli had convinced me to let her ‘fix my face’ before I went to the ill-fated dinner. I used a tissue to clean the last dribs of it off and that’s when I realized that I was no longer wearing Dicey’s necklace.
I dashed out of the bathroom and found Kyle sitting in the family room, wearing dry things, and pouring two Heinekens into glasses.
“I have to go back over to the country club,” I said. “I’ve lost Dicey’s black pearl necklace. I just knew something like this was going to happen! I told her I shouldn’t wear it.”
Kyle placed the glasses of beer on the coffee table. “Okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. The first thing you need to do is calm down so you can think. Do you remember when you saw it last?”
I squinched up my eyes and fast-forwarded through the night’s events. “I remember Giselle pulling on it during our fight. After that, nothing. I’ll bet it’s in the pool.”
“You’re probably right. Why don’t I call over there and have the manager search for it? If they find it, they’ll put it in the safe and you can pick it up tomorrow.” He hesitated, as if trying to think how to say the rest. “I think, uh, considering the, uh, circumstances, that calling would be the best way to handle it. You probably shouldn’t go back over there tonight.”
He had a point. I wasn’t about to show my face at the country club while the party was still in full swing. I was embarrassed enough as it was. While Kyle made the call I settled down on his buttery-soft leather sofa and sipped my beer.
There was a photograph of a younger Kyle, a pretty woman, and a small round-faced boy on the table next to where I was sitting. I picked it up and admired it. When Kyle returned from the phone call I held it up.
“Your family?”
He took the picture and the saddest, sweetest smile crossed his face. “Yes. That’s my son, Vince. He’s ten now. He was two when that picture was made.”
He carefully placed the photo back on the table. “His mother, my wife, died about fifteen months after that was taken. From breast cancer.”
I was mortified. What on God’s green earth had I been thinking, making all of the breast jokes to Giselle within Kyle’s earshot? I felt like a complete jerk.
“Where is your son now?” I asked when I’d semi-recovered from my shame.
“He’s staying with my in-laws back in Denver. He has Down’s syndrome. I didn’t want to bring him here until I’d worked everything out and found someone to help me out with him while I work. He doesn’t do well with change.”
I looked at the picture again. When it was made, I’d been a kid, just hanging out at the pool with my friends without a care in the world.
“I’m so sorry. About your wife, I mean. I’ll bet that was really tough on you.”
“Tough doesn’t begin to describe it. She was an amazing woman and I miss her every single day. They say time heals all wounds, but it really doesn’t. At least not completely.”
I wiped away a tear. “I’m helping out at a Breast Cancer awareness fundraiser next Saturday. A craft fair and auction. Proceeds go to pay for mammograms for women who can’t afford them. Are you involved with anything like that?”
He opened another Heineken and poured it evenly into the two glasses. “I was back in Denver. Let me know the details and I’ll be glad to lend a hand.”
We spent the next couple of hours talking, getting to know each other. I found myself thinking more than once that, in spite of the age difference and the fact that he had a kid, he was a guy I could really fall for. I got the distinct impression that the feeling was mutual. About midnight, after watching me yawn and struggle to stay awake, he walked me across the street to Charli’s.
“I really enjoyed being with you tonight, Marty,” he said. “You’re a very interesting woman.”
I snickered. “Interesting as in ‘psycho’? Or interesting as in ‘lunatic’?”
“Interesting as in interesting.”
“Thank you. That’s a really nice way of putting it. I’m very sorry about that thing with Giselle. You must think I’m crazy, what with my getting into it with Frank and then Giselle. I hope you don’t think I act like that all the time.”
“Not at all.” The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. “Well, maybe. But I’m willing to take my chances. Will you have dinner with me next week?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “And I promise that I’ll be on my very best behavior. No fights. Well, maybe just one or two little ones.”
We grinned at each other and then he put his hand under my chin and tilted my head. Our lips met in a very friendly kiss. And then another one and another one and then Charli’s front porch light flickered and I felt about fifteen. I could have killed her.
Kyle straightened and laughed. “Tell your sister I said goodnight.”
He kissed me once more, this time on the cheek, and then headed across the street, his hands jammed into his pockets, whistling as he went. I liked that. Almost as much as I liked his kissing.
“So,” Charli said, “I take it you had fun. By the way, what happened to your dress? And your shoes? Why are you wearing those?” She pointed to the borrowed shorts.
I sighed. It sounded suspiciously like Mom’s ‘not in the mood to discuss this’ sigh. I hoped that it wasn’t a sign that I was turning into my mother. Just the thought of it made me shiver.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Charli said.
“I’m sure. Very sure.”
She seemed disappointed, but that was just too darned bad. It was late, I was tired, and I wasn’t particularly anxious to relive my tussle with Giselle just yet. I didn’t want to talk about Kyle Zagle either. There were some things I needed to think about, to get sorted out in my own head, before I could discuss them with Charli.
She led me into the family room and started pulling the cushions off of her sofa. “You can sleep on the sofa bed. That way you won’t have to drive home.”
Since I’d gone home to feed Delbert after we finished Operation ONAG, I gratefully took her up on the offer. She loaded me down with crisp white sheets and cozy pillows from the linen closet and then went to see what Jaelyn was whimpering about.
I made up my bed, decided to sleep in the shorts and shirt that Kyle had loaned me, and lay down. I think I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. It felt like only a couple of minutes had passed when I suddenly jerked awake, but I heard Charli’s anniversary clock bong four. I climbed out of the bed and fumbled my way down the hall to the bathroom. As I washed my hands I saw a shadow slide in front of the window. I peeked out behind the window blind.
Two figures stood next to the line in the mulch between Charli’s house and Frank Billingham’s. I watched for a second, but couldn’t tell who it was. I decided that I’d better wake up Charli to see if she thought we should call the police. She wasn’t in her bed. Must have gone to the kitchen to get some water or something.
As I headed down the hallway toward the kitchen I heard a loud popping sound and muffled cry come from outside. It scared the hell out of me, but I recovered quickly, worried that one of the figures had been Charli and that it was she who had screamed.
“Charli! Are you okay?” I yelled as I ran to the front door and darted outside.
One of the shadow figures disappeared around the back of Frank’s house. Someone was lying in the mulch where we’d had the run-in with Frank. “Charli?” Please, please, please don’t let it be Charli. It wasn’t. Her floodlight came on and my sister joined me.
“It’s Frank,” I told her. “Go call 911. I think he’s been shot.”
Charli didn’t move. Blood squirted from a gaping wound in Frank’s chest.
“Charli! Go! Call 911. Tell them to get an ambulance out here immediately.” I kicked back with my foot and landed a mean wallop to her shin.
That got her moving. She flew into the house. I checked Frank’s pulse and tried to remember what to do. I had a vague memory of high school first aid class and it popped into my head that I should start CPR. I ripped a strip of Frank’s shirt and pressed it into the wound, then struggled to begin the CPR. Within minutes it seemed like half the neighbors had flooded out of their homes and were gathered around me. First Kyle and then Sue Parnell, who is a nurse when she isn’t singing in her band, joined me on the ground next to Frank and I gratefully let them take over the life-saving duty.
Shaking and shivering from shock and fear, I moved back out of the way and found myself standing next to Frank’s wheelbarrow. Piles of plastic pink flamingos replaced the compost it had held earlier. I guess he’d been out pulling up the little buggers.
But what had happened to cause him to be shot? And who was the mystery person who’d done the dirty deed? I was trying to concentrate, trying to see if I could identify the other shadowy figure I’d seen, when I noticed a glint of metal lying in the big azalea bush that was at the back of the planting bed.
It was Dicey’s necklace. How did that get there? Something else caught my eye underneath the foliage and I bent down to see what it was. It was a small handgun. I stuck the necklace into my pocket and then I did the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I picked up the gun. When the first squad car rolled up the officer saw me with the gun and automatically drew his own weapon.
“Drop it!” he shouted. “Drop the weapon and put your hands in the air.”
My mom might not agree, but I’m not always as dumb as I look. I tossed the gun away from me. He rushed me, kicked it even farther from me, and practically slammed me against the side of Frank’s house. Within seconds I was cuffed and locked in the back of the squad car.
Charli evidently called Mom and Dad after she dialed 911, because just as the officer deposited me in his cruiser, they arrived. But the problem wasn’t Mom and Dad’s arrival. For once I was actually grateful to see them.
Robby and Giselle, on the other hand, I could have lived without. They made a real nuisance of themselves, spending most of their time screaming at each other, but there was no doubt that they managed to get the whole arrest on tape.
As I sat in the back of that squad car, shivering, all covered with Frank’s blood, watching the red lights of the ambulance flash on and off, watching Giselle gesturing toward me, watching them cover Frank Billingham’s face with a sheet, I realized that Mom had it all wrong when it comes to bad things happening. When it comes to murder there is no ‘bright side’.