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I HAD A QUIET DINNER with Donnie that night. We ate linguine alle vongole at the dining room table, with the correct silverware, the cloth napkins, and the proper wineglasses. Unlike at my house, where I don’t even own real wineglasses and use repurposed furikake jars for my box wine.
“I can’t believe it,” Donnie said. “It must’ve been an accident. What else could it be?”
“Donnie, you need to talk to Davison. Maybe you can convince him to go in and see Medeiros voluntarily.”
“You don’t think Davison had anything to do with this, do you?”
“These forensics people, it’s amazing what they can find. If Davison was in Randy Randolph’s apartment, they’ll know. Even if he was wearing gloves, people shed hair and skin cells.”
“How would Davison have gotten into Randy Randolph’s apartment in the first place?”
“Oh, that’s easy. At the dinner, Randolph invited Davison, challenged him actually, to work out with him. So, he could’ve gone over that morning, and Randolph would’ve let him in. Or even if he didn’t go there by himself, his girlfriend, Crystal, said she was Randolph’s personal trainer. Maybe Davison got in through her, got the access code from her or something.”
Donnie put his fork down on his barely touched mound of linguine. Maybe he hadn’t really wanted a detailed and plausible case for Davison’s guilt.
“As a single father, you always feel guilty about something. If you’re at work, you feel bad because you should be spending time with your kid. And when you’re with your kid, you feel bad because you should be out working to bring in money.”
“Donnie, I think you did a—you’ve done the best you could.” I reached over and rested my hand on his. “I think you’re amazing. Where is Davison, by the way? Is he out with Crystal again?”
“I think so.”
Excellent. Donnie and I would have the evening to ourselves.
“It’s hard for a boy to grow up without a mother.” Donnie looked at his plate, but I didn’t think he noticed the food. “Sherry is the closest he’s had. And she didn’t stick around very long. Well, he has you now.”
Great. A romantic evening where I get to hear my husband reminisce about his ex-wife. Nothing personal against Sherry, but I hated when Donnie brought her up. It was bad enough when people told me I looked so much like Sherry I must be her long lost twin. Her fatter long-lost twin. What galled me was Donnie married Sherry first. Years after she ran off with someone else, he’d decided to throw his lot in with me. It made me feel like a consolation prize. Especially when he would slip and call me “Sherry.”
“Is there anything you haven’t told me?” Donnie looked up at me. “About what went on between Randolph and Davison?”
“I think you have the basics. Randolph was drinking. A lot. And he’s an ugly drunk. Was an ugly drunk. I don’t know how a guy like that ends up with a job as a community liaison.”
“The Mahina assignment might not have been one of Seed Solutions’ most desirable postings. You seem to like it here so far, but for a lot of people from the mainland, it’s a backwater. It’s why they usually end up leaving after a couple of years.”
“It’s no excuse for Randolph’s behavior.” I shook my head. “He was awful. If I had the upper body strength, I might’ve been tempted to drop a barbell onto his neck myself.”
“Molly.”
“Sorry.”
I took a gulp of wine, an earthy Albanian merlot. It tasted like it had been fermented in a stable. I wasn’t going to complain. Donnie had gone out of his way to special order it from Hagiwara’s, thinking I’d appreciate the nod to my Balkan heritage.
I had assumed when Donnie, an inveterate Italophile, found out I wasn’t really Italian, he’d lose interest. In fact, not only did he not break our engagement, he took the news quite well. He’d even tried cooking Albanian cuisine (which was as unfamiliar to me as it was to him). It was sweet of him. Donnie really was a catch. Too bad about the rotten stepson.
“We all had to sit around with pleasant smiles pasted on our faces while he was being as boorish as could be, just because Seed Solutions has money. The whole thing was revolting.”
The front door burst open, and we heard two adult voices, giggling like children.
“Davison,” Donnie called out. The voices shushed, and Davison peered around the corner to see Donnie and me at the dinner table.
“Oh, hey, Dad. Hey Molly. Crystal’s here.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yeah. We’re just gonna hang out.”
“You take in the propane tanks like I asked you?”
“Aw, forgot. Too dark now. I get to it tomorrow.”
“You get your closet sorted out?”
“Yeah, we go do that right now.”
“We need to talk to you about something,” Donnie called after Davison. “Later, when you don’t have company. And remember to lock the front door.”