Chapter 23
The day had been hectic and profitable, so I didn’t feel guilty about closing up ten minutes early. Besides, the hour before closing was notoriously slow in the touristy part of town. Those few minutes allowed me to drop Sashkatu at home and feed everyone. It also meant I could enjoy my own dinner without constantly checking the time. Driving to The Caboose, all I could think about was one of their cold, thick strawberry shakes. That’s when it dawned on me I’d had nothing to eat since breakfast.
I pulled into the half-filled parking lot. Although five-fifteen on a weekday evening was a good time to eat at The Caboose, a mere half hour later the lot would be full and it would be difficult to get in the door. With six booths on either side of the center aisle, The Caboose had never had enough seating. The result was a booming takeout business.
I parked in the spot next to Ronnie’s car and went inside. The restaurant wasn’t big on decor. When it had first opened in the eighties, its claim to fame was a Lionel train that rode the inside perimeter on a track that went by each table. Several of its freight cars had been outfitted with cup holders, so that shakes and other beverages could be served by train, captivating children of all ages, myself included. Unfortunately, the restaurant was sold a decade later, and the new owner didn’t have the patience for a gimmick that was often in need of repair. He did, however, have the smarts to retain the original kitchen staff and assure their loyalty by giving them a substantial raise. The trains were gone, but the kitchen still turned out consistently great, if not heart-healthy, food.
I spotted Ronnie in a booth on the right, halfway back, drinking iced tea. I slid in across from her at the same time the waitress arrived to take my drink order. Service was never lagging at The Caboose; turnover was the name of the game. I ordered my strawberry shake and turned to Ronnie. My heart dropped at the bleak look in her eyes. She made an effort to paste on a smile, but it was like putting a little Band-Aid on a gash from a machete. My own smile instantly evaporated.
“Are you all right?” was the first thing to pop out of my mouth. A downright stupid question given her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“No, you first. You said you had a question.”
I thought about arguing that she should go first, but it was easier and faster to get on with it. “Jim’s file on Roger Westfield mentioned a letter he wanted Jim to give to his wife in the event of his death.”
Ronnie nodded. “It was sealed when Westfield gave it to us.”
“Do you know where Jim put it for safekeeping?”
“Ordinarily he would have put it in Westfield’s paper file, but for some reason, he shredded it.”
It was hard to keep the frustration out of my tone. “Couldn’t he have been disbarred for doing that?”
Ronnie shrugged. “As long as money isn’t involved, you’d be surprised what lawyers can get away with in this state.”
My head filled with a dozen related questions, all of which were beside the point for now. “What makes you think he shredded the letter?”
“I did all the shredding in the office—part of my job description. In fact the shredder was always right next to my desk. He hated wasting his time on it. A few months ago, I left early, forgot my glasses and had to go back in. I found Jim at my desk, feeding the letter into the shredder. I knew it was Westfield’s letter, because he’d dropped the envelope that had his wife’s name on it. He jumped six feet when he heard the door closing behind me. It’s possible he was startled, because he wasn’t expecting anyone. If I’d been in his shoes, I might have reacted the same way.”
“Did you ask him why he was shredding it?”
“Yes, and he got angry. Told me to mind my own business. In all the years I’d worked for him, he’d never spoken to me like that before.” I could tell by her voice that the incident had shaken her at the time.
“Another dead end,” I murmured with a sigh. “We’ll never know what was in that letter.”
The waitress stopped at our table to set down my shake and take our order—two cheeseburgers with fries, no onion on mine. Once we were alone again, I tried to put the letter out of my thoughts and listen to what was on Ronnie’s mind.
“Here it is,” she said, punctuating the words with a heavy sigh. “When I told you about Duggan calling me down to the police station again, it wasn’t just about my having had access to the gun. Someone came forward with new information.” She stared at her iced tea, poking at the lemon wedge with her straw. “I didn’t tell you the truth when you asked me if Jim was having an affair.” She couldn’t seem to look me in the eye. “This person claims to have seen Jim and me in a . . . a compromising situation that—”
“Hold on. What are you saying?” Although I’d heard her words, my brain was having trouble making sense of them.
“I’m saying I was the one having an affair with Jim,” she said bluntly, her words quickly swallowed by the general hubbub.
“Wait—you and Elise are friends, really good friends.” I wanted her to take it back. Tell me it was a joke. That she’d misspoken.
“We didn’t mean for it to happen. I know that’s what everybody says when they’re caught. But it’s the truth. It wasn’t some thoughtless, frivolous fling. We’d managed to keep our feelings under lock and key for a long time. And then one day we couldn’t anymore. I’m not saying any of this to excuse my behavior. There is no excuse for it. I was hoping to at least spare Elise more pain, let her memories of Jim remain untainted. But that’s not likely now. I wanted you to hear it from me. That way you can be there for her when . . .” Her last words caught in her throat.
In the space of a minute, she’d rendered me senseless, too numb to react. I couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. Not one expletive to spit at her.
“Here you go, ladies,” the waitress said brightly, parking our plates in front of us. “Enjoy!” she called as she moved on to another table.
I rummaged in my handbag for money. I found a twenty, tossed it onto the table, and stood up on shaky, Gumby legs. Ronnie rose too. We both started to talk at the same time. “I’ve gotta go,” I mumbled, amazed that my voice was working.
“No,” she said, low and determined as she dropped another twenty on the table. “I’ve done enough damage. Please stay and eat.” She walked away before I could argue. I didn’t want to stay, but I also didn’t want to follow her out like I was running after her, so I sank back down in the booth. My stomach recoiled at the thought of biting into the burger, despite the fact that I’d been looking forward to it all day. I reached for the shake instead and took a sip. Cool and creamy, it slid down my throat without effort, although the taste barely registered in my brain. I drank most of it and once I was certain I wouldn’t see Ronnie in the parking lot, I got up and left. The forty on the table would cover the bill and a hefty tip. I didn’t want to signal the waitress to bring the check, because then I’d be forced to explain why our food went untouched. She’d ask if my friend was okay, if I’d like a to-go bag or if I’d prefer to order something else. Questions I didn’t want to answer. Questions I wasn’t sure I could answer with any degree of normalcy.
I parked in my driveway and went inside, unable to remember how I actually got there. A part of my brain must have directed my driving, while another part was busy sorting out my tangled thoughts and feelings. One realization I’d come to was that in addition to all of Ronnie’s sins, she was a coward. She should have been the one to tell Elise. To stand there and take whatever Elise would say or do to her. But Ronnie had made me her flunky. All that babble about not wanting to cause Elise more pain was pure garbage. Ronnie didn’t want to grovel or deal with any more pain herself. For Elise, hearing this news would be like losing Jim all over again. A second death that robbed her of even the sustaining memory of being loved. And Ronnie had me the messenger.
I turned on the TV in hopes of distracting myself. It was hard to find a show that wasn’t about murder or adultery. I tried a couple of sitcoms, but they were more irritating than amusing. Sleep was probably the one thing that would quiet my thoughts, if I could manage to fall asleep at such an early hour. A cup of Tilly’s Sweet Dreams tea might help. She made it from a mixture of chamomile, valerian, lemon balm, and lavender. I’d never been crazy about the flavor of valerian, but Tilly maintained that it was the most potent herb in the concoction. While I waited for the tea to steep, I checked to be sure the cats’ communal water bowl was full.
I was headed from the kitchen to the stairs, teacup in hand, when the phone rang. I backtracked to the kitchen for it, glancing first at the caller ID. I was afraid Elise might be on the other end and I wasn’t up to destroying her world quite yet. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Travis’s name.
“Hi there,” he said. “I assume I’m not intruding on your bedtime again.”
I squelched a laugh. If he only knew. “Hi, what’s up?” I asked, reaching for my most wide-awake voice.
“I thought you might want to hear the results of my latest research.”
“Sure.”
“If you’re not busy, I could swing by in . . . say . . . ten minutes.” Oops, I hadn’t realized he meant in person. He sounded so eager, I didn’t want to shoot him down. Not to mention that my heart had started doing a little jig at the thought of seeing him again. I gave him directions to the house, then ran upstairs to pull a comb through my hair and put on some lip gloss. I told myself I would have done that if it was a girlfriend coming over too. But I didn’t buy it.