The morning of Bob’s wake Danville was a society observing the same somber holiday. CLOSED signs adorned store windows along Main Street, and light traffic flowed in a steady stream in the same direction. Outside the funeral home, people lined the sidewalk, marveling at the procession of uniformed law enforcement from neighboring towns before filing in to pay their respects to their beloved Sheriff Robert T. Morgan, pillar of all things decent.
Belle sat on the stone wall out front waiting to see if the line would ever go down, apprehensive about facing Ally after her disheartening conversation with Gallagher. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the early morning sun, finding small comfort in the thought that, after the wake, Bob was going to be cremated.
Give him a little sneak preview of where he was headed in the great beyond.
After a good hour wait, she made her way into the hall outside the room in which he was laid out. She spotted Ally through the crowd standing off to the side, a stoic sentinel ready to assist Shirley in any way. Black was definitely her color.
The thought of kneeling in front of Bob and pretending to say a prayer for him made her sick. But if there was such a being as God, he’d want her to pray for him, as wretched as he was. If anyone ever needed prayer, it was a pig like him.
“Belle.” Chloe said her name as she tugged on her shirt sleeve.
She moved out of line to hug her. “Hey, you.”
“I miss you,” Chloe said, still clinging to her. “Where have you been?”
“I’m around. Your aunt’s been wrapped up in all this lately.”
“She’s been so weird. She really misses you.”
Belle smiled, hoping it was true. “I’ve missed you guys. Are you doing okay? I know he was sort of like a grandfather to you.”
She made a face. “Not really.”
Impelled by Chloe’s cryptic response, Belle escorted her off to the side to settle her suspicions once and for all. “You spent a lot of time with Bob and Shirley, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. When I was little. I stopped last summer.”
“Really,” she said casually. “They seemed like such a sweet old couple.”
“I think Bob was starting to lose it.”
“Why do you say that? Was he forgetting stuff?”
“He was just…I don’t know.”
The hair on Belle’s neck rose as Chloe looked away. The kid was clearly growing uncomfortable with the topic.
“Did you ever talk to your aunt about him, starting to lose it, I mean?”
Chloe shook her head. Something was buried in there. Should she keep digging? Well, she couldn’t just ignore it.
She took Chloe by the arm, cut across the line, and walked her down the hall away from the crowd streaming through the front entrance. “Chloe, I don’t know how to ask you this, so I’m just gonna come out and say it. Did he ever hurt you in any way?”
She stared at Belle like an injured bird unsure if the human was about to help or hurt her.
“You can confide in me,” Belle added. “I’m a teacher. Nothing bad will happen to you if you tell.”
Her lips parted as if her words snagged on something on their way out.
Belle gently clasped Chloe’s hand. “It’s okay. Just say yes or no.”
“No,” she said reluctantly. “Not really.”
“What does ‘not really’ mean?” Belle minded her tone, careful not to sound like she was pressing her.
“Well, he never hurt me, but he would try to get me to sit in his lap. I felt like I was too old for that.”
Belle gently lifted Chloe’s face up by her chin. “You’re absolutely right. You are too old for that.”
“Then he would try to tickle me, and I started getting these vibes—like I don’t know. I didn’t feel comfortable being around him anymore.”
“Had he made you feel that way when you were little?”
Chloe reflected on the question. “Not really. I think it was when I started getting boobs.”
Belle’s stomach turned. The son of a bitch certainly had a type.
“I’m really proud of you.” She smiled and clapped Chloe’s hand between hers.
Chloe grinned in embarrassment. “Why?”
“One, for having the guts to share that with me, and two, for knowing you could stand up for yourself when someone started messing with you.”
She frowned. “He did mess with me, didn’t he?”
Belle forced a brave face for her. “But he’ll never have the chance to do it again. Promise me something, will you?”
Chloe nodded.
“If anyone ever tries to mess with you again, please tell your aunt or me or some other adult you trust.”
“Nobody better try,” Chloe said with a smile. “I’ll donkey-kick ’em in the nuts if they do.”
“That’ll work, too.” Belle wrapped Chloe in a firm hug. “But seriously, don’t ever be afraid to speak up.”
“Okay,” Chloe said, still clinging to her.
“Hey, you two.” Ally approached them. “I was looking for you,” she said to Chloe.
“Here I am,” Chloe said with a flourish of her arms. “I’ll go check on Shirley.” She gave Belle a knowing grin before leaving.
“I was about to come in when she stopped me,” Belle said. “How are you?”
“I’m doing okay. You?”
“Fine…other than missing you like mad.”
“I miss you, too,” Ally said, looking down. She had to have heard the anguish in Belle’s voice. Was she avoiding eye contact because she felt it, too, or was it a requiem for their love affair?
“Do you?” Belle said.
Ally stared into her eyes. “Yeah. A lot. I know I haven’t acted like it much lately.”
“No, you haven’t.” Belle pursed her lips and flipped her hair back.
“And I’m sorry for the way I reacted when you told me about Charlene. I was already completely stressed out, and that pushed me right over the edge.”
“It was a rather shitty position for you to be in.”
“Thanks for understanding that.” Ally’s smile looked sincere, the first of its kind Belle had seen on her in a while.
“Even if it’s true,” Belle said, “what does it matter now?”
“Right.”
Belle wanted to grab her by her silk shirt and yell, No, wrong, Ally! It still matters. Bob might have been dead, but there were people who still deserved their day of reckoning—a baby boy, a lost girl, and a grown woman who’d had to live an entire lifetime with what he’d done to her.
If Ally had known what he’d attempted to pull with Chloe, would it still not matter? As incensed as Belle was with her, she couldn’t spring that one on her there.
“I’m gonna go give Shirley my condolences.”
“Are you coming to Ethel’s after?” Ally asked.
“Uh, I’ll try. I have a meeting with a realtor later.”
“Oh? For the condo or this house?”
“This one.” She lied without compunction, hoping it would get a rise out of her.
And it worked. “Um, okay,” Ally said, clearly working at being nonchalant. “If you can’t make it to Ethel’s, I’ll call you tonight.”
“Sure.” Belle gave her an awkward hug, then turned away before she could gush like a geyser about how much she loved and missed her.
This business of being mature and rational instead of a delirious romantic was no country for old women. No wonder she’d never conducted her personal affairs in that manner until now.
She entered the parlor through the back entrance of the room to avoid the casket. Shirley deserved her respect but not him. She couldn’t even fake it anymore.
Shirley was standing in front of the row of family’s chairs, lovingly flanked by an assortment of familiar mourners. A middle-aged woman, impeccably dressed, sat behind her, dour-faced and seemingly disconnected as she looked down at her phone.
That had to be the daughter.
Belle gave Shirley a warm embrace and the obligatory, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Belle, this is my daughter, Debra,” Shirley said as she put her arm around her estranged daughter. “And this is Isabelle Ashford.”
Belle offered her condolences as she shook Debra’s hand.
The woman smiled appreciatively, but her eyes were vacant. She was there for some purpose other than mourning a beloved parent—a claim to an inheritance perhaps, like a has-been TV star supporting a provocative politician to get his name in print once more.
Oh, what Belle wouldn’t give for a private word with her.
She sandwiched Shirley’s hand between hers. “You let me know if I can do anything for you.”
“I will, dear. Thank you. If you can, please join us at Ethel’s later.”
When she’d showed up at the wake, she’d had no intention of attending the repast and toasting to that creep’s memory, but now that she knew the prodigal daughter had returned…
***
When Belle arrived at Ethel’s for the buffet luncheon, she carried out her usual scan of faces, but this time it wasn’t Ally on her radar; it was Debra. Surely, the estranged daughter would have some new insight to share about her father—with the right motivation. She absently glided her hand down and felt for the pint of Jim Beam Honey concealed in her pocket.
She’d schmoozed her way through the crowd, noticing Ally, then swerving in the opposite direction toward the counter. That’s where Debra stood cupping an empty wine glass in her hand.
“Hello again,” Belle said. “Ready for another?” She indicated her glass.
“I suppose,” Debra said. “These bumpkins may know strawberry-rhubarb pie, but they don’t know good wine from possum piss.”
“I was afraid of that,” Belle said with the demeanor of a foreign spy. “That’s why I brought my own provisions.” She reached into her pocket and brandished the tip of the bourbon bottle.
“Now you’re talking.” Debra’s iceberg face at last melted into what would pass for a smile. She turned around and plucked two Styrofoam cups from the stack near the coffee percolator on the counter.
“To the great Sheriff Bob,” Belle said after pouring two shot-size portions.
Debra raised her cup, then looked away as she dumped it down, but not before Belle noticed her roll her eyes.
She immediately refilled the cups.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you hanging back here like you’re a stranger?”
“I basically am,” Debra said. “I haven’t lived here since I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen? What were you, a child bride?” Belle forced a charming laugh as she refilled the cups.
“Boarding school.”
Belle immediately sensed a story in there but was treading lightly. “Your mom must be happy you’re back—despite the sad occasion.”
“It’s the only occasion I’d bother coming back for. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really close with my parents.”
“Eh, who is?” Belle poured them another, feeling like a shit for her shameless subterfuge. But in all fairness, Debra seemed like she wanted to get it off her chest, and Belle was providing an attentive ear.
And bourbon.
“Your dad sure was one popular guy.” Belle looked around the café. “I think literally the whole town is here.”
“Everybody loved old Sheriff Bob,” Debra drawled.
“Mmm. Not everybody.” At that, Belle hid the mouth that dared utter the suggestion behind her cup.
“I was being facetious.”
“I wasn’t.” Belle looked directly at her.
Debra’s eyes met hers and flared with what Belle could only interpret as recognition until she glanced away.
“Look, I’m a stranger here myself,” Belle said. “I only ended up in Danville because a distant relative willed me some property. But since I’ve been here, I’ve heard some rumors—disturbing ones…”
That won Debra’s attention back. “Like what?”
Belle shrugged. “That he roughed up a teenage boy who was dating my dad’s cousin years ago. Got him sent off to juvie or some kind of military school. She ended up killing herself.”
Debra looked at her, aghast. “Really?”
“Well, I don’t know if it was intentional, but she definitely died of an overdose.”
“That’s rough.” Debra drained her cup.
Belle reached for the bottle again. Although her head had started spinning, she couldn’t stop now. Debra hadn’t waved her off when she splashed more bourbon into their cups.
“My dad’s cousin, Judy was her name, had other problems. You know, the ugly kind that sometimes happen to innocent little girls.”
“Too often, to too many girls.”
“Yeah, especially in Danville it seems. I talked to an older woman who grew up here who was molested as a kid. I wonder if they ever caught the guy.” Belle watched for a reaction out of the corner of her eye.
“I’m sure they never did,” Debra said. “He probably had connections.”
“Probably.” Belle sipped her drink for courage and almost tumbled off the stool. “Did you ever hear any stories about it happening to anyone you knew?”
Debra took a drink and paused, staring blankly into the crowd. Finally, she said, “I didn’t have to hear them.”
A little nauseous now, Belle swallowed the remnants of bourbon on the back of her tongue. “Why is that?” She already knew the answer but put it out there anyway.
With her back against the counter, Debra continued staring straight ahead, the empty cup cradled in both hands. “Why do you think?”
Belle downed the last of her bourbon and allowed a moment to absorb everything before she asked, “Did you know the guy?”
Debra nodded.
“Did getting shipped off to a private school have anything to do with it?”
Another nod.
At that point, Belle passed the rest of the pint to her.
“Did your mother have any idea what was going on?”
“It took me a year after it started to find the courage, but I finally told her.” She knocked back her next shot like a cowboy in a saloon.
“What happened?”
She smiled mirthlessly. “I ended up getting the best high school education money can buy at a prestigious prep school seventy miles away.”
“She didn’t believe you?”
Debra pursed her lips. “I’m certain she did. That’s why she got me out of there. She was one of those dutiful wives—the obedient, stand-by-your man type. And after all, I wasn’t really theirs. I was adopted.” She looked down at her cup, her chin dimpling with emotion. “I never went back either. I went right from Choate to Quinnipiac University. That’s where I met my husband.”
“You met your husband at college? I’d heard you’d become estranged with your parents after throwing your life away to marry an illegal immigrant.”
She laughed derisively. “Illegal immigrant? Miguel was here from Barcelona on a student visa. He obtained his citizenship when he was hired by Dana-Farber as a cancer researcher. We’re divorced now, but we have two children and co-parent them with no problems.”
“You live up in the Boston area?”
She nodded as she took another swig.
Man, this woman could drink. By then Belle was pretending to sip lest she end up being scooped up off the floor by Danville’s fire department that consisted of the two young, burly volunteers drinking Miller Lite by the door.
“I probably shouldn’t be mentioning this, but since we’re bonding here…” Belle glanced around to see who was within earshot. “There’s an investigation going on that’ll probably tie him to my father’s cousin and the remains of an infant found in my backyard this summer.”
Debra’s face withered in shock and revulsion. “What? They think he killed the baby?”
“They can’t determine how it died. The bones showed no sign of trauma. I’ve convinced myself he was stillborn.”
“Amazing,” Debra said. “The fucker got away with everything.”
“Maybe not. If the DNA comes back proving Bob was the father, people will find out about it. He sure won’t go down in Danville history as a superhero.”
Debra shrugged. “Without a guilty verdict, any villain can be remembered as a hero—especially when someone’s around to help rewrite history.”
Belle assumed Debra was referring to her mother, but she wondered if Ally wasn’t a bigger threat to the truth if she intercepted the results of the test.
“Thank you for your candor,” Belle said.
On her way to the ladies’ room, which seemed a lot farther from the counter than she remembered, Ally sidled up to her.
“You’re not putting the moves on Shirley’s daughter, are you?”
The attempt at a joke fell flat.
Belle stopped and wheeled around to face her. “Are you saying I’m free to put the moves on someone else?”
“I hope not.”
“It’s hard to know these days. Am I free or not?”
“Belle, I know this has been hard, but I need a little more time. I want to make sure Shirley is okay and that all her affairs are in order, and I’m still dealing with what you’ve told me about Bob.”
The request irritated her on multiple levels. It was bad enough that Ally was still overplaying her devastation at Belle exposing her daddy figure as a sexual deviant, but Belle’s patience was worn too thin for such a lame excuse for why they were apart.
“Don’t you mean decide whether Charlene was full of shit or not? Here’s an idea. Go talk to Bob’s daughter for a few minutes, then tell me whether Charlene was lying.”
“I never said Charlene was…”
Belle held up her hand. “Save it.”
Overwhelmed with sadness, disappointment, and bourbon, she needed to get away from Ally before this became a two-for-one repast dinner.
***
A few days later, Belle kicked the shovel down into the soil in the cleared-out area abutting the veranda. She’d picked up a few small azalea bushes at Busby’s Farm to add some colorful curbside appeal, still uncertain if it would turn out to be for her own pleasure or luring prospective buyers.
She reached into her pocket to check her phone in case she’d missed the vibrations of a call or text from Ally. She hadn’t phoned the night of Bob’s funeral like Belle thought she would’ve—not so surprising after the way she’d stormed out.
It had been three days since the funeral, five since she’d turned over the straw to Gallagher for analysis. She was sure he would eventually rat her out to Ally despite his promise—he’d have to since they were both on the case. By that time, Ally would hopefully have returned to her old, rational self and understood Belle’s decision to take it upon herself to, oh, let’s call it expedite that critical piece of evidence.
Wasn’t Ally missing her? Belle felt like she was dying inside, her petals wilting and falling to the ground one by one till nothing was left of her but a stem.
No notification on the phone’s lock screen.
Ally hadn’t even fallen into the elaborate trap Belle had set where she’d called her and ended the call before Ally picked up. She was supposed to call her back out of curiosity, and Belle would say she’d accidentally butt-dialed her. Then they’d segue into the reconciliation conversation. The scheme had never failed her before—but then she’d never dated a woman like Ally before.
She sighed and stuffed the phone into her back pocket. She flung the shovel to the ground and crouched down to deposit the second azalea bush into the hole.
That was when the sound of Ally’s truck barreling up the driveway, tires spitting gravel chunks everywhere, knocked Belle off balance and onto the damp grass.
She hurried to her feet as the door slammed and Ally marched toward her.
“How fucking dare you? How could you do that to me?” Ally shouted as though she were a trashy crime suspect about to be wrestled to the ground on an episode of Cops.
Belle straightened her posture and wiped a forearm across her sweaty forehead. Horrified at this new version of Ally, she licked her dry lips as her heart pounded in her throat. “I’m assuming you’re referring to my giving Gallagher the straw with Bob’s DNA.”
“What right did you think you had to go behind my back to my colleague and insinuate that I can’t be trusted to do the right thing? That was totally fucked up, Belle, completely out of line.”
“It wasn’t just an insinuation,” Belle said calmly. “Did you go and get a DNA sample after I told you what Charlene said about him?”
“And if that wasn’t bad enough”—Ally’s rage was now pulsing in her forehead—“you talked to Chloe about him? Where did you get the balls to betray me like this? I feel like I don’t even know you.”
“Did you get a sample of Bob’s DNA before he died?” she repeated slowly, somehow maintaining her cool.
“Stay out of this case and stay the hell away from my niece, or I’ll slap a protective order on you.” She turned to walk away.
“I asked you a question, Ally,” Belle shouted. “Answer me.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said through clenched teeth. “And that should’ve been enough for you.”
She attempted to storm off again, but this time Belle grabbed her arm.
“You should’ve done your fucking job.”
Ally jerked her arm away. “Who the hell appointed you police commissioner?”
Belle stared her down. “You know it’s true about him, don’t you? Have the DNA results come back yet?”
Ally glanced up toward the trees, her nostrils flaring like a prize fighter drinking in oxygen between rounds.
“You know your sainted Sheriff Bob is a pedophile.” Belle was taunting her. “Maybe even a baby killer, and you did nothing about it.”
“What should I have done, Belle? Arrested a man who’d be dead before his fingerprints had time to dry? When I get the results back, do you want to come with me when I destroy his elderly widow with the news? And for what? For Justice? Judy and the baby and the perpetrator will all still be dead.”
“That’s not the goddamn point. That infant deserves an identity.”
“And he’s going to get one once Judy’s exhumed. At this point, I’m certain she was his mother. And we’ll probably know his father, too, once the DNA results come back.”
Belle’s heart became too heavy to buoy her anger. “He deserves a voice, Ally,” she said softly. Her voice quavered as she choked back a deluge of emotion. “Maybe he wasn’t murdered. Maybe it was a still birth, but he ended up in a bag in the ground somehow. The circumstances that led to that should be spoken. Even if it won’t bring him back and the person or persons responsible can’t be punished, it’s the right thing to do. You’re an officer of the law. I should not be standing here explaining this to you.”
By now Ally’s face was streaked with tears. “What do you want me to do, Belle?”
“I want them both to finally be able to rest in peace.”
“So do I,” Ally whispered.
“Then this isn’t over—the case, I mean.”
“I know.” Ally shielded her eyes with her thumb and forefinger against her forehead.
Belle wrapped her arms around her, and they sobbed together on the front lawn. When Ally embraced her tightly, Belle soaked in every drop of her, loving her with every molecule of her being.
Then she stepped back.
“Listen.” She wiped her face with the tops of her hands. “You can pretend that Bob wasn’t Judy’s rapist since they’re all dead, but don’t pretend Chloe wasn’t tainted by his wickedness. Talk to her. Get her professional help if she needs it.”
“I will.”
They studied each other for another moment, Belle suddenly lost for words.
“What’s happened to us?” Ally asked.
“I’ve been asking myself that ever since you froze me out weeks ago. I don’t want a life partner who runs from me rather than toward me in a crisis. That’s not what a real relationship is about. That was too hard a lesson for me to learn to ever forget it.”
“I get it,” Ally said softly. “And I regret the way I reacted to everything initially. But my life partner should trust me and not question my moral convictions.”
Belle exhaled deeply. “You know, of all the twists and turns on this wild ride, the fact that you don’t find anything questionable about your convictions in this has surprised me most of all. You let me down, Ally.”
“It’s so easy to judge from your position, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you ask yourself what you would’ve done if your father, your best buddy that he is, was dying in some hospice bed, and someone came along and made that accusation against him?”
“But my father never would—”
“That’s not what I asked you. Would you let him die with dignity or do the moral thing and expose him with only days, maybe hours to decide?”
Belle’s blood simmered at Ally’s flip of the script. “Bob isn’t your father. He was a colleague and friend. It’s not the same.”
“He was the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.”
Belle stood still as a death’s head. Ally must’ve been as convinced of Bob’s virtue as she was of her father’s. Could she have answered that question honestly?
“Like I said before, Belle, what do you want me to do? To what ends should I take this to satisfy you? Should I go public with the story and ruin his name so you and your family can file a civil suit?”
Belle shook her head with a weary smile. “I’ll be satisfied with ruining his name—before they start renaming schools or libraries or erecting statues in his honor. Leave him on your pedestal if you must, Ally, but keep in mind that somebody loved Charles Manson once, too.”
She ran inside and slammed the door, falling against it as she bawled into her cupped hands. How could everything have ended this way? Why had she met the love of her life only to have what they shared decay before it ever had the chance to fully flower?
She took her cell out of her pocket and called her realtor back. She instructed her to reject the offer on her condo, take it off the market, and take a ride up to Danville to get the Ashford place on the market, pronto.
She had to get out of there before the house destroyed her, too.