E.T. arrived a little before two o’clock. When I opened the door, he stood there, dazed and disheveled.
“You look awful,” I blurted out as he came inside.
“And you, Katherine Sullivan, are a very blunt and direct woman.”
“Have you eaten?” I asked, leading the way to the kitchen.
“That’s all I’ve been doing. There isn’t much else to do sitting in a car for hours, except listen to the radio . . . and eat.”
“Well, how about something to drink, then?”
“Herbal tea would be nice.”
“This is my daughter’s house . . . let me have a look . . .”
“Your daughter Elizabeth, right?”
“Right.”
Next to the coffee was a wooden box with a variety of teas inside. I brought it out, set it in front of him, and went to boil some water.
“You know, tea is full of antioxidants,” he said.
I got out two cups. Tea sounded nice, and I decided to join him.
He held up a packet of lemon zest and pushed the box over to me so I could make my choice. I picked orange spice.
“Are you sure you don’t want something with that? I think we have cookies . . .”
“Stop mothering me, Kate. I’m fine. And I’ll be better once we decide what our next plan of action will be.”
“Okay, okay, let’s talk. First we have to agree that Nathan will be informed of our plans. It’s important he feel in charge of his life, especially now.”
“Ahh, you’re worried about PTSD,” he nodded and, while he did so, brushed back some hair that had fallen in his face. “Sure. No problem.”
“And our investigation can’t interfere with his business. Or your job. You all have to make a living.”
“Agreed. Anything else?”
I took a moment, then said, “I think that’s it.”
We had moved to the living room, and E.T. scooted back into the couch pillow. He held his cup with both hands as if warming himself. “We need a picture of Larkin’s wife,” he said. “Then we’ll go back to the foreman of the construction crew and find out exactly who that woman was.”
“And once we track her down, she might lead us to her husband. Good. Hopefully we can catch her off guard.”
“And I keep thinking about Kerrigan’s girlfriend. Brock couldn’t get over how calm she was after someone took a shot at her. Any ordinary person would have been shaken—would still be.”
“I’ve been thinking about her, too,” I said. “Maybe I should go back and have a visit with her.”
“That would be great. She’ll respond better to you than she would to a stranger. So I’ll see if Polly can find some kind of photo of the wife from a driver’s license ID or newspaper article and then head out to the site while you—”
“Will construction be going on out there on Sunday?” I asked.
“I didn’t think of that.”
“I know you don’t relish the idea of staking out the Larkin house for another day, but it may be all you can do for now.”
He nodded and, at the same time, checked his military watch. “It’s two forty-three now. How about we rendezvous back here at six o’clock?”
“I’ll see you then. Hopefully we’ll each have something to report.”
* * *
The only thing different about Ashley Knight’s neighborhood since the last time I’d been there were the children. The beautiful weather had brought them out in droves. Five boys kicked a soccer ball in the middle of the street while half a dozen smaller ones shouted and screamed from the grass. Two girls turned a rope while a tall friend jumped and chanted. Farther down the block, men were working on a car that had been parked in the driveway. Before I could even get to Ashley’s door, she ran outside shouting to the kids to keep it down; she was trying to sleep. When she saw me, she managed a smile.
“Never move into a house without checking the neighborhood first. I should have listened to all my single friends, but no, I knew better. And now look. It’s like a flippin’ school yard around here. Next time—”
“Ms. Knight,” I managed to say, hoping she’d stop a minute to let me continue.
“I know, I know, you want to talk to me about Charlie.” She rolled her eyes. “Good ole, dearly departed Charles. Right?”
Between the noise and her prattling on, all I could do was nod.
“We better go inside.” But before she started back up the steps, she couldn’t help shouting one more warning. “And all you kids, stay off my lawn!”
None of them hesitated a second. Obviously they were immune to her threats.
I wondered just how many muumuus Ashley had in her closet. This day she was wearing a black one with large white-and-pink Hawaiian flowers printed on it. Her hair was pulled up in a bun on the top of her head. She reminded me of Bloody Mary in South Pacific.
She sat down and pointed to a chair for me. “I knew you’d be back.” This time she wasn’t offering a drink; this time there were no niceties. Maybe Bostwick’s men had been there since my last visit. Or a reporter or two. She was probably tired of telling her story again and again. But I was there to get a sense of her emotional state since the shooting and decided the best way to do that was to tap into my motherly side.
“I was worried about you, Ashley. Our last visit was so . . . so . . . traumatic. Are you okay?”
She relaxed a bit. “Oh, I was shaken up. It’s not every day someone pulls a gun on me. You know, it wasn’t at all like they show on TV or in the movies. Hey, if only there was some menacing music playing in the background, like a warning that a bad guy was coming. Wouldn’t that be something? I’ve had a few nightmares . . . but I’m okay. When the cops were here, I told them everything. But you know, I don’t think they’ll do much about it. How can they? All I could give them was a description of the car—”
“Oh, so the detectives came later?” I asked. “The patrolmen did say they’d be stopping by. So you told them everything, right?”
“Well . . .” As she thought up an excuse, I could almost hear that voice in her head replaying what we’d told her. Reminding her that she’d have to explain why she threw her boyfriend—her now dead boyfriend—out of a moving car. “. . . not exactly. I was going to, believe me. I was ready to call when two detectives just showed up. They were full of questions, squinting at me with their beady policemen eyes. Always so suspicious, you know?”
I wondered how she knew so much about being questioned by the police.
“I told them everything I knew. But they kept asking and asking. How stupid do they think I am? They can ask the same question a hundred different ways, and the answer will always come out the same. They think they can trick me. But I’m not going to tell them . . .”
She’d slipped up, and she knew it.
“It must feel very threatening,” I said in a soothing voice. “Oh sure, Charlie made you angry sometimes; what couple doesn’t argue now and then? But I’m sure you loved him very much.” Then I sat back and waited for her to start up again.
“You’re right . . . so very right. Charlie was my soul mate. Did I tell you we met in rehab? Both of us were so vulnerable and scared back then. He understood me. He loved me . . . in his own way. I miss him.” She took a moment of silence to think about her departed lover. When she looked at me again, she smiled. “Funny, you said you’ve been thinking about me. I’ve been wondering about you. Did you ever find your friend? The one you were looking for when you came here the first time?”
“I did. A man who lives in one of the houses at that new construction site where Charlie worked was holding Nathan. It’s a small world, isn’t it? Did Charlie ever mention a Mr. or Mrs. Larkin?”
She was preparing to lie to me but changed her mind. It was in her posture, her eyes, the way her foot shook. “Yes. He did odd jobs for Mr. Larkin sometimes. It was fast money and a lot of it.”
“I assume the jobs were illegal, and I don’t want you to incriminate yourself, so I won’t ask.”
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Sullivan. But I feel I can trust you.”
“And you haven’t told any of this to the police?”
She shrugged. “They didn’t ask. Always so full of themselves, aren’t they?”
I thought of Bostwick and had to agree.
“They asked if he worked at the construction site, and I said he did. End of story.”
“I found out it was Charlie who forced Nathan into the car and brought him to Larkin’s house. Maybe working for that man was giving your boyfriend some bouts of guilt? It happens all the time. Decent guys get caught up in illegal activities, and it does a real number on their psyche. A lot of times it becomes more than they can handle. Sooner or later, they have to tell someone—”
“And that’s how they get caught,” Ashley said. “Charlie spilled his guts to me when he was high. You think I’m bad? You wouldn’t believe how that guy could talk.”
“Well, nothing can hurt him now,” I told her. “And maybe whatever he told you can help Nathan. I’m sure there are others out there who Larkin’s hurt. I bet he was the one who hired the person who shot at you.”
Her eyes widened. “To shut me up! He had to cover his tracks. He had to know sooner or later Charlie would talk. Why, that lousy bastard.”
“Those kinds of men never leave witnesses behind.”
“Wanna drink?” she suddenly asked.