Chapter Eighteen

 

I jumped as the coffee machine made a sound like a death rattle and squirted dark liquid into the glass pot.

Betty dead. Despite the evidence of my eyes, it seemed unbelievable. Betty was practically an institution. She was part of Green Lanterns. Part of my childhood—though she wasn’t really that old. I hadn’t thought people died of high blood pressure these days. She took medication, after all.

Where the hell was Tarrant?

Did he know? He had to know. Father and daughter always rose at the same hour.

On autopilot, I turned and crossed to the door leading to the Tarrants’ living quarters. The door was closed. I knocked, and when there was no answer, I opened it and went inside.

There was no sign of Tarrant. I checked the bedrooms. Tarrant’s room did not appear to have been slept in. Betty’s room was a different story. The bedside lamp was on. The bed was unmade, the sheets and blankets rumpled.

Perhaps sometime toward morning, Betty, alone and feeling unwell, had gone into the kitchen for a glass of water and suffered some kind of seizure. But then what? What had happened to Tarrant that he still wasn’t back from his nighttime prowling?

Or had Tarrant returned, found Betty dead, and…what? Panicked and fled? No way. Why the hell would he? He would have phoned for help, right? Even if he had panicked—and I’d never seen Tarrant panic; I’d seen him angry, offended, outraged, but not panicked—but even if he had panicked, he wouldn’t have left her lying there, surely?

Or maybe he had phoned for help and was outside waiting for emergency services to arrive? I returned to the kitchen, went to the window, and looked out at the wide spread of driveway. Two small brown birds rose from the ivy, skimmed the asphalt surface, then fluttered upward toward the trees and out of view. A pale sun was soaking up the last remnants of overcast. It was going to be another lovely day.

Not for Betty. God. Poor Betty.

Impatiently, I shrugged the maudlin thought aside. Anyway, that scenario didn’t make any more sense than the previous. Liana and I had been walking up the driveway less than fifteen minutes ago. We’d have seen Tarrant.

But there was no sign of him anywhere.

The whole situation was crazy.

I glanced back at where Betty lay. The sight of her sad pink slipper made my stomach curdle. How long had she been like that?

I made myself walk back to the table, kneel, and touch her hand. She was cold. Cold like I’d never felt another human. And that terrible expression…

I rose, went back into the Tarrants’ rooms, took an afghan from the sofa, and carried it to the kitchen to cover Betty. Then I ran upstairs to Aunt H.’s room and tapped softly on the door.

She murmured inquiry, and I opened the door, peering through the gloom until I spotted her sitting up in bed. “Artie? What is it, dear?”

“It’s bad news, Aunt H. I’m sorry.”

“What bad news? What’s happened?” She was fully awake now, her voice sharp as she reached for the bathrobe lying across the foot of the bed.

“It’s Betty—Ulyanna, I mean. I’m afraid she’s…dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

Aunt H. sank back on the bed. “But she can’t be. How? What happened?”

“I don’t know. She must have had a stroke or a heart attack or something. I found her when I—” I broke off, suddenly remembering Liana and the events of the night before. I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to be summoning the doctor.

“When you what?” Aunt H. asked, staring at me.

“It’s a long story. In other news, I think Liana’s had some kind of breakdown.”

“Over Ulyanna?”

“No. No, I’ll explain later. The thing is, can you sit with her while I phone the doctor and look for Tarrant?”

Aunt H. was looking more bewildered by the minute. “Has something happened to Tarrant?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to be around anywhere. I don’t know if he found Ulyanna and went for help or—”

“Went for help? Why wouldn’t he call 911? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand either,” I admitted. “Maybe he panicked.”

“Tarrant? Panic?”

“I know it doesn’t seem likely. None of it seems likely, frankly.” With increasing desperation, I said, “Look, me old darling, could you please, please go sit with Liana so she doesn’t chuck herself out a window or something? As soon as I know anything, I’ll report back.”

Without another word, my aunt rose from the bed, slipped on her robe, and firmly tied the sash. “Go,” she told me. “Leave Liana to me. And never mind about phoning the doctor. I’ll take care of it. The thing for you to do is find Tarrant. This news is liable to break him.”

I was thinking about my aunt’s words as I returned downstairs and found the kitchen still deserted—barring the blanketed form behind the wooden table.

Maybe Betty’s death had broken Tarrant. Maybe it had been the final straw.

I went out through the kitchen door—keeping an eye out for Tarrant—and jogged across the sun-dappled grass to the garage. I slipped in the side door, flipped on the light, and counted cars in the gloomy illumination. The green station wagon was not there.

Did that mean that Tarrant had gone for help?

Leaving Betty behind?

No. That made no sense.

But this made no sense either. Why would Tarrant flee Green Lanterns without a word—in what was technically my aunt’s station wagon.

I headed upstairs to knock on Seamus’s door. By the time I reached the landing, I could smell the coffee brewing, and my stomach knotted unhappily as I remembered Betty and my earlier attempt at scoring caffeine.

Seamus opened the door almost immediately. He was wearing jeans and holding an electric razor, which he switched off at the sight of me. His brown hair was damp and scented of Herbal Essences; his smile was lopsided.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners to leave without a word in the middle of the night?”

“Uh, no, as a matter of fact. Anyway, it was dawn. Or nearly. But I apologize. I’d like to do it again. Not the leaving in the middle of the night part. The earlier stuff. Meantime, something’s come up—and I don’t mean that in a playful, flirtatious way.”

His brows drew together. “Are you okay?”

“So far, but our numbers are dwindling fast. Betty—Ulyanna, that is—is dead, Tarrant is missing, and Liana tried to kill herself last night, supposedly on orders from Ogden.”

“You—” His jaw dropped, his eyes widened, and for a gratifying instant he seemed speechless. “Are you— This is for real?”

“Only too real. I just checked downstairs, and the station wagon is gone. Do you have any idea when Tarrant left?”

“I’m not even sure when you left. I was out.”

I nodded automatically. He had been out, which, considering the days he was putting in trying to whip the garden into shape and the nights he spent watching the house and searching the grounds, was probably not surprising.

“I think I might have heard Tarrant leaving while I was wandering through the maze trying to find Liana.”

“Wandering through the…” I saw him make the conscious and determined decision to let that pass. He said instead, “Have you phoned the police?”

“No. Aunt H. is phoning Dr. Tighe.”

Seamus frowned. “You can’t keep this hushed up, Artemus. If Tarrant killed Betty—”

It was my turn to gape. “If Tarrant killed— What are you talking about? Tarrant never killed Betty. I didn’t say Betty was murdered. I think she just had a heart attack. She looked…”

I started to say she looked natural enough, but remembered her expression—I doubted I’d ever manage to forget it. Her features had been frozen in horror.

“I’d better take a look,” Seamus said grimly.

I felt a wave of relief. Yes. Great idea. This was Seamus’s area of expertise, after all. And the truth was, it hadn’t even occurred to me that Betty’s death might have been a violent one. Maybe Tarrant had lost his mind and struck her. Stranger things had happened at Green Lanterns.

“Pour yourself some coffee, and I’ll finish dressing.” Seamus stepped aside.

I went into the kitchen and found a clean mug in the cupboard. Seamus had closed the bedroom door behind him, but after a minute or two, I heard his voice. He was on the phone. I sipped my coffee, eyeing the broken lamp in the trash bin—the bent linen shade sat on the linoleum counter—and tried to hear Seamus’s half of the conversation.

I couldn’t make out the words, but his tone sounded official.

A short time later he opened the bedroom door. He wore his usual jeans and a blue Reading Diver T-shirt. He also wore an air of authority he hadn’t displayed before. Or at least not so obviously.

“Who did you call?” I asked.

He hesitated. “My boss at SFPD.”

“I see.”

His eyes met mine steadily. “Instinct tells me things are going to happen very quickly now.”

“Which means what?”

“I meant what I said last night. If I’m able to return the money Foxworth stole, there’s a very good chance I can keep your aunt out of trouble. Assuming she’s willing to cooperate.”

I said slowly, “You think Tarrant found the money and is on the run?”

“I think there’s a very good chance that’s what we’re looking at.”

I smiled sourly. “And you think he killed Betty?”

“Clearly you don’t.” His smile was wry. “Okay. Maybe she did die a natural death. Maybe they argued and she had a heart attack. We won’t know until we hear from the coroner. Meantime, I think we should go take a look.”

I put my coffee cup in the sink. Said with a briskness I didn’t feel, “Let’s do it.”

 

 

When we reached the house, Dr. Tighe’s car was already parked in the driveway. We went into the kitchen and found him kneeling beside Betty’s body. Seamus offered his ID, and Dr. Tighe said, “You’re full of surprises.”

Seamus shrugged.

“All right, Sergeant Cassidy. I’ve already sent for the coroner’s van. There are no signs of violence. It looks to me like a massive cerebral hemorrhage. Ulyanna was always a little too lackadaisical about taking her medication. I warned her about it more than once.”

“Time of death?” Seamus asked.

Dr. Tighe grimaced. “You know better than to ask. If I had to guess, I’d say somewhere around three, four in the morning.”

Seamus glanced at me. I knew what he was thinking. Betty had died right about the time we had headed over to his place. God. Hopefully, it wasn’t hearing us fumbling our way outside that had triggered her fatal attack.

“Where’s Tarrant?” Dr. Tighe asked suddenly, glancing around the gloomy kitchen as if only then noticing we were alone. “He’s going to take this very badly.”

“We don’t know,” I said. “I thought maybe he’d gone for help, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“Gone for help? Why wouldn’t he just use the phone?”

Seamus shot me a warning look.

“No idea,” I replied. “If you’re done down here, will you come upstairs and examine Liana? I think she may have broken her arm. Although frankly, that’s the least of it.”

“So Hallie mentioned. What exactly went on here last night?” He snapped shut his leather bag and looked from me to Seamus. He did not appear to be in any hurry to get upstairs.

Now that I thought about it, Dr. Tighe was one of the only doctors I knew who still carried an old-fashioned doctor’s bag. But then he was one of the only doctors I knew who still made house calls. Granted, these days his bag held his iPad and a host of other gadgets as well as some of the more traditional tools of the trade.

I offered my version of events to Dr. Tighe and Seamus—leaving out my reason for being outside the house before dawn. Seamus already knew my reason.

“Let me make sure I understand you. Liana told you Ogden instructed her to kill herself?” Dr. Tighe questioned.

I tried to recall Liana’s exact words. “She said he had sent the light for her.”

“The light?” Seamus and Dr. Tighe repeated in unison—and with the same inflection.

I started to answer, then rethought. I had to make a choice, and considering everything, I decided Liana was expendable. “Yes,” I said. “She kept babbling about seeing a light. I think she believed she was pursuing that light through the garden and to the pool.”

“And she believed the light was Ogden?” Dr. Tighe asked.

“That’s how it sounded to me.”

“I see.” He was frowning. “Maybe her case is more serious than I realized.”

I wasn’t lying when I said, “I think so. I believe she’d have thrown herself off the diving board if I hadn’t been there.”

He said a little wearily, “Very well. I’ll have a look at her.”

When Dr. Tighe left the kitchen, Seamus asked, “Was there a light?”

“Yes.”

Seamus continued to study me. “Could it have been a flashlight?”

“I thought so at first, but it didn’t look exactly like a flashlight beam. It was larger than that.”

“It could have been a high-powered flashlight.”

“Maybe.”

“No?”

I said reluctantly, “I think it was too high in the air for a flashlight beam. And the way it moved was odd. It sort of floated and drifted and bounced its way through the trees.”

“What do you think it was?” Seamus sounded curious rather than skeptical, which was a relief to my, frankly, overstrained nerves.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. The light didn’t leave the maze, though.”

“Which means…what?”

“No idea.” I glanced down once more at Betty’s shrouded form. “Do you mind if we get out of here?”

His face changed. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry, Artemus. I realize this has to be upsetting for you.” To my surprise, Seamus wrapped his arms around me. “I know you were fond of her.”

Greg had not been much for hugging, so for a second I just stood there straight and awkward, but then I realized I was upset. I had been fond of Betty. And it felt very nice to be hugged by Seamus.

I hugged him back. Hard. “Thanks. She was kind to me when I was a kid.” I turned my face to his, offering a twisted smile. “She was always hopeful I’d outgrow this being-gay thing.”

Seamus snorted. “God, I hope not.” And he kissed me.

It was a quick kiss. This wasn’t the time or place for romance, but it was wonderfully comforting.

We went outside to find the coroner’s van had arrived. Seamus directed the attendants to the kitchen door, and we walked a little way down the drive. The sun was shining cheerfully. The air smelled fresh and sweet. If felt like any ordinary summer day—which made the events of the night and morning seem all the weirder.

“Maybe Tarrant got into an accident?” I suggested after a moment or two.

“Anything’s possible, I guess.” Seamus sounded unconvinced. He gave me a sideways look. “You know, Tarrant’s disappearance means I’m going to have to interview your aunt as soon as possible.”

I sighed. “I know. I’d like to be there when you do.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’m already hanging out a mile.”

“Then her lawyer should be there.”

“No. That’s not a good idea.”

Up until then I’d been feeling close to Seamus, but all that vanished. “I’m not going to allow you to interrogate her like she’s a common criminal—”

“Artemus—” Seamus stopped walking, catching me by the arm so that I had to stop too. “You’ve— I’m asking you to trust me. I’m not out to trick or trap your aunt. I’d think you would know that by now, but since you don’t…okay.” He expelled a long breath, as if he had to gather himself. “If she’s truly innocent of all wrongdoing, she’s got nothing to fear. If she is involved…I’ll do my best to help her navigate the legal waters. In which case, we might want to keep a few things off the record. Do you get what I’m saying? I have a vested interest in things working out for her.”

He gazed with unmistakable meaning into my eyes, and I felt my face warm.

Seamus didn’t wait for my answer. “So there’s that. But I’m also an officer of the law, and I have a responsibility and a duty to fulfill the trust placed in me. I’m walking a very fine line here. Please don’t put me in a worse position than I’m already in.”

I’d been with Greg nearly four years, and I don’t think in all that time I’d ever seen him that honest, that open. Seamus had a mix of strength and vulnerability like few men I’d known—myself included.

He waited for my answer, his face solemn as life or death.

That kind of honesty demanded reciprocity, however awkward and unfamiliar. I said, “I haven’t known you that long, so this isn’t easy for me.”

“I know.”

Probably not. Then again, maybe he did.

“My instinct is to trust you, but my instinct has been wrong before. If it was just me… But Aunt H. has been there for me my whole life. She’s my entire family. I don’t have anybody else.”

Seamus didn’t say a word, just continued to gaze at me with those grave, searching blue eyes, and I could read the message there as clearly as if he’d said it aloud.

Once again I felt my face heat—so strange because I’ve never been given to blushing—and I said gruffly, “But you don’t really know me. Memorizing a dossier isn’t the same as trying to live with someone who squeezes the toothpaste from the middle of the tube, eats the last of the ice cream without telling you, or borrows your favorite shirt and never gives it back.”

Seamus looked alarmed. “You always eat the last of the ice cream?”

“No. Greg did. You know what I’m saying.”

“I do know what you’re saying,” he replied, smiling but serious once more. “And I’m looking forward to getting to really know you. The you that forgets birthdays and anniversaries—”

“I’m good at birthdays and anniversaries.”

“—the you that fudges his tax returns—”

“Nope. Never.”

“—the you that squeezes the toothpaste from the middle of the tube—”

“Okay. Yes. Guilty as charged.”

“And I hope you feel the same. But even if you don’t, I’m going to try to help your aunt out of this. Although that’s partly up to her. Fair enough?”

Sometimes there are no guarantees. No safety nets. Sometimes you just have to take a chance.

I nodded. “Fair enough.”