The sound of a car door slamming jolted Dena awake, and for a moment she felt frightened. She looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings, and then she remembered. She was at Peter’s, staying with the girls. Then, she looked at her watch. It was Peter. It had to be. It was time for him to come home. As she glanced at the door she heard the sound of his key turning in the lock. She sighed with relief.
She didn’t remember drifting off. She had been trying to read, but was unable to concentrate. She recalled wishing that Peter had a TV so she could flip on one of those old movies from the 1940s with women in satin gowns and white furs throwing their marcelled heads back and emitting tinkly laughs at the witticisms of sleek men in tails. A little escapism from real life. The comfortable living room looked a little forlorn. All around her were boxes packed and sealed in the corners, and many of the pictures were off the walls. Peter and his daughters were preparing to leave. Leaving her alone.
Dena rubbed her eyes, and struggled to her feet as Peter opened the door and came inside, letting in a cold breeze.
‘Hi,’ she said.
Peter smiled. ‘Cold out there.’
‘Winter’s coming,’ she said.
Peter nodded and went to the closet to hang up his coat. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Just fine,’ she said.
‘The girls went right to sleep?’
‘No problem. Well, actually, we had a visitor tonight and they got a little scared, but then they were OK.’
Peter stopped, gripping the hanger one hand. ‘A visitor? It wasn’t—’
Dena shook her head. ‘It was Ron. The husband of my friend who was killed.’
‘Oh?’ he asked, adjusting his coat neatly on the hanger and replacing it in the closet. ‘What did he want?’
Dena sighed. ‘He wanted me to have the things that Jennifer bought for the baby.’
Peter shut the closet door and walked over to the refrigerator. He opened it and looked inside, pulling out a bottle of juice. ‘How morbid,’ he said.
‘He didn’t mean it that way. It’s very difficult for him,’ Dena said loyally. ‘I’m sure you of all people could understand.’
‘Me?’ Peter said, surprised. ‘What would I know about it?’
‘You had to dispose of your wife’s things after she died. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.’
Peter poured his juice and put the bottle away. ‘Just something that had to be done,’ he said shortly.
‘I’m sorry, Peter,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to remind you …’
‘Not at all,’ he said. He smiled brightly. A little falsely, Dena thought. ‘It was long ago. Time heals all wounds.’
Dena wondered about that. ‘Well, I’d better be getting upstairs,’ she said.
‘I was concerned when you said you had a visitor,’ he ventured. ‘I thought maybe it was Brian.’
Dena shook her head. ‘I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier. I had a restraining order served on Brian. He’s not allowed to come near me.’
‘Right,’ Peter snorted. ‘Like that will stop him.’
‘I had to do something,’ Dena said defensively.
‘Don’t you know you can’t rely on the legal system?’ he said. ‘That’s a piece of paper. It’s meaningless if he decides to come after you.’
‘Well, what do you suggest I do?’ she demanded irritably.
‘Get a weapon,’ he said. ‘The next time he comes after you, use it.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Peter. I can’t do that. I’d be more dangerous to myself than to him.’ A weapon. The very idea made her feel shaky.
‘Then get out of here. Get away from him. As far away as you can get.’
‘Believe me, I’d like to. I can’t leave,’ she protested. ‘The chief of police forbid me to leave town until Jennifer’s killer is apprehended.’
Peter shook his head. ‘Catch-22. The police won’t let you leave, and they can’t protect you as long as you stay here. Perfect.’
‘Don’t say that,’ she insisted. ‘You’re scaring me.’
‘I’m just stating the facts. You’re relying on the legal system for justice. It isn’t about justice. It’s about lawyers’ fees and corrupt officials and bureaucracy. They want you to think that your rights are protected. That the law is on your side. That’s simply not true. You have to protect yourself. And your child.’
‘I’m doing what I can to protect myself,’ she said angrily.
Peter shrugged. ‘It’s foolhardy to assume that because the legal system has issued you a piece of paper, everything is going to be fine.’
‘You’re awfully cynical,’ she countered.
Peter hesitated. ‘You’ll have to forgive me. My mother was an attorney. If I’m cynical, it’s because I watched the way she operated. She was an … unscrupulous person.’
‘Well, I’m sorry you felt that way. But, I feel safer now that it’s done.’
He looked as if he was about to reply, and then thought better of it. ‘Well, it’s late,’ he said. ‘Let me walk you upstairs.’
‘I don’t need anyone to walk me upstairs,’ she said. ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting upstairs on my own.’
Peter looked at her with one eyebrow raised. ‘Don’t take it out on me,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘The fact that the system doesn’t work.’ He came out from behind the kitchen counter. He was still dressed in his European-cut suit from work, his hair and beard trimmed to a stylish length so that he looked like an ad from Gentleman’s Quarterly. ‘Now, like it or not, I’m walking you upstairs,’ he said. ‘I’m old fashioned.’
‘An old-fashioned anarchist,’ she said wryly.
‘A realist,’ he said. ‘But don’t take my word for it. Wait and see how long that legal paper keeps him at bay.’
‘Are you hoping you’re right?’ she asked coolly.
‘I am right,’ he said.
Paper streamers still hung from the overhead fixture in the dining room, and confetti littered the table. Half of a devil’s food cake stood under a glass dome on the sideboard. Lou Potter’s daughter, Kim, a compact, freckle-faced blonde woman, was folding up wrapping paper and stuffing it into a paper bag for recycling. Kim’s thirteen-year-old son, Jeff, led Tyrell into the dining room where his mother was trying to pick up after his little sister’s birthday party.
‘Hey, Ma, look who I found prowling around outside,’ said Jeff.
Tyrell punched the kid lightly on the arm. ‘Hey Kim,’ said Tyrell. ‘Where’s the birthday girl?’
Kim laughed and pushed her hair back off her forehead. ‘Doin’ her homework,’ she said. ‘Birthday or no birthday. Second grade is tough. What brings you here?’
‘I was just down at the station,’ Tyrell said. ‘They told me Lou came home.’
Kim frowned. ‘Can it wait?’ she asked. ‘He is awful tired. Between the funeral, and the party this afternoon, and then he had to go back down to work. Something about Brian. I am really worried about his health.’
Tyrell regarded Kim curiously. She was as good a person as he knew, and always had been. He wondered if she might be able to explain this to him. ‘Kim,’ he said, ‘Lou … your dad and Brian Riley’s dad were great friends, right?’
Kim smiled, and wound a fat pink ribbon around her hand. ‘Still are. The best of friends,’ she said. ‘Known each other all their lives. Our mothers were friends too. We were like one big happy family for a long time. Until Janine … Brian’s mother …’
‘They’re divorced, aren’t they?’ Tyrell asked.
‘Well, yes,’ Kim said. ‘She left them when Brian was about nine or ten. She moved away. She moved to California. Brian went back and forth between them. I guess none of the grown-ups were that surprised. Apparently, Matt Riley was always kind of a hard man to get along with. Very demanding. It was sad, really. Tough on Brian.’
‘Your father seems to be very fond of Brian.’
‘I think he always felt sorry for him,’ said Kim. ‘He’s a softie. You know him.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Tyrell. ‘Is he out back?’ After Kim’s mother died, her husband built a little apartment for his father-in-law above their two-car garage. The arrangement seemed to work out for everyone.
Kim nodded. ‘But please, Tyrell, let him rest. Ever since Mom died I can’t get him to take care of himself. If it can wait until tomorrow …’
‘I don’t think it can,’ said Tyrell.
‘Well, go on then,’ she said. ‘You know the way.’
Tyrell left the house by the kitchen door and went out to the garage. He walked up the steps and knocked on the outside door. Lou hailed him from inside and Tyrell opened the door.
Lou’s apartment was cozy but plenty spacious for one person. It had a bedroom, bathroom, a galley kitchen and a little living room. In front of the television was a roomy recliner in a nubby oatmeal-colored fabric. It was well worn, in contrast to a similarly upholstered loveseat, which looked like no one ever sat in it.
Lou was already in his bathrobe, pajamas and slippers, carrying a cocktail glass of whiskey over to his single end table when Tyrell came in. The bookshelves in the room had very few books on them, but many photographs of all sizes clustered in the empty spaces.
‘Hey Tyrell,’ said Lou, holding his cocktail glass aloft. ‘Caught me cheating. Can I fix you one?’
Tyrell shook his head.
‘Sit down,’ said Lou, indicating the pristine loveseat. Tyrell hesitated, and then perched on the edge of one cushion while Lou settled himself in the recliner. As Kim had said, Lou looked tired. The circles under his eyes were darker than usual, and his skin was almost the same color as the upholstery on his recliner. ‘What’s up?’
‘Lou,’ said Tyrell. ‘I’m here about the Riley kid.’
Lou placed his cocktail on a folded paper towel. ‘What about him?’
‘I told Ken to pick him up and charge him, and Kenny told me that you let him go tonight.’
Lou waved a meaty hand dismissively. ‘It’s more of the same baloney. That woman is a hysteric, Tyrell.’
Tyrell leaned forward and tried to catch the chief’s eye, but Lou avoided his gaze.
‘Lou; he followed her out to the cemetery. He punctured a hole in her tire. He was chasing her when she was spotted by some workers out there.’
‘Lovers’ quarrels,’ Lou said stubbornly. ‘Whoever decided we should start interfering in the private squabbles between a man and a woman?’
‘Judge Hobart issued a restraining order this afternoon.’
‘Well, what can I tell you? You know she’s one of those women’s lib nutcases. Tyrell, why are you wasting so much time on this? We got a murderer out there to catch.’
‘Yes, and it could be that Brian Riley is the man we’re looking for,’ Tyrell snapped.
Lou turned a glowering gaze on him. ‘That is not true,’ he said.
Tyrell, who was holding his hat in his hands, kneaded the brim between his long fingers. ‘Lou,’ he said, ‘I’m trying to understand this. I’ve never known you ignore the law. You always try to treat people equally. That’s one reason I wanted to work for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lou gravely. ‘I try.’
‘But you’ve got a blind spot when it comes to Riley. This is twice you’ve let him off with a slap on the wrist.’
Lou sighed. ‘I know I may favor him a little bit. You’ve got to understand, Tyrell. Not only is he … my best friend’s boy, Brian’s had it rough in his life. His parents … There were a lot of terrible things that happened to him, through no fault of his own. His parents ended up very bitter towards one another. I’m afraid his dad sometimes took it out on Brian. His mother was a … strong-willed woman. Very beautiful but not always … she could be cruel. I mean, she wanted what she wanted and she didn’t care who got hurt. So, Brian was the one who suffered …’
‘Chief, my mother’s a drug addict who left me and my brother almost as soon as she had us. That doesn’t give me the right to break the law.’
‘Yes, but you had Reggie and Ella to love you and set you a good example. Brian didn’t have that. He has a little trouble sometimes knowing how to treat women …’
‘A little trouble? Are we talking about letting a man get away with murder? You said you questioned him. Does he really have an alibi for the time when Jennifer Hubbell was murdered?’
Lou glared at him, wounded. ‘You disappoint me, Tyrell. I believed in you. I gave you opportunities when some other people might not have. You’ve never had any reason to doubt me.’ Lou’s phone rang and Lou picked it up. ‘Excuse me,’ he said with exaggerated politeness.
Tyrell looked away from the chief’s rueful gaze. It was true that Lou had been his mentor. He hated that it had come to this. His gaze fell on the many photos on the bookshelves. He recognized many of the people pictured there. Kim, her husband in wedding gear. Hattie and Lou, heads tilted together, smiling. Some sepia-toned pictures of people in Victorian outfits. School photos of the kids, gap-toothed against a sea-blue background. And there, a man with his handsome face nearly obscured by a cowboy hat. At first, Tyrell thought it was Brian Riley. Then, on second glance, he realized it had to be Matthew Riley. He was standing beside a beautiful woman with long black hair, holding a baby. Brian and his mother. In the picture, Matthew stood next to them, but apart from them. The woman seemed to be holding the baby away from him, while Matthew stared, unsmiling, into the camera. It was a good friend, indeed, Tyrell thought, whose picture you kept among the photos of your own family.
Lou hung up the phone and sighed. ‘Some friends of the dead girl,’ he said. ‘Something they want to talk about before they leave tomorrow.’
Tyrell stood up. ‘Lou,’ he said, ‘I’m going to go serve this restraining order on the Riley kid. After this, it’s everything by the books. The judge explained her rights to Miss Russell. Now you know he can’t come near her or harass her in any way or we have to pick him up. We can’t fuck around with this now, Lou, or the judge is going to be all over our butts.’
‘Don’t tell me how to do my job,’ Lou grumbled.
Tyrell felt like saying that somebody had to, but he held his tongue.
Vibes was the name of the bar downtown where Tyrell had been directed by an aide out at the nursing home. He had been looking in vain for Brian, first at the Riley farm, and then at the nursing home, but his queries finally led him to a girl in a turquoise smock with an underwater print on it of fishes and coral. The aide was young, early twenties maybe, and she had explained that it was her favorite place to stop after work. She had often seen Brian Riley there when she stopped in. Tyrell thanked her, and made his way there.
As he opened the door, the smoke inside changed the air quality from crisp to heavy. The noise coming from the bandstand in the back was the music of a group of skinny tattooed white boys, all dressed in black. The bar was three deep in patrons, all laughing, talking in loud voices and drinking steadily.
Tyrell felt a number of gazes swivel his way when he walked in. He could hear the din of chatter subside somewhat as the people in the bar realized he was there. He wasn’t sure if that was because he was black or a cop or both. He had a feeling that his presence would have quieted the patrons either way. There weren’t any other black faces in the crowd and he didn’t need any of these liquored-up rednecks to start thinking he had come in here to hit on their women.
Tyrell coughed, choked by the blanket of smoke. He edged his way down the bar, meeting every glance that came in his direction with an inscrutable, slightly challenging stare. So far there was no sign of Boots. He found a break in the jostling of bodies and leaned into the bartender. He had to yell to make himself heard over the evening commotion.
The bartender, as befitted a man who sold liquor to people without benefit of identification, leaned toward him with a solemn, helpful expression on his face.
‘Brian Riley?’ Tyrell shouted.
There was no need to repeat himself. The bartender peered down the bar through the crowd and then pointed out the space in the back, in front of the bandstand. Tyrell thanked him and the bartender nodded. Tyrell resumed pushing his way through the cheerful mob, trying to avoid being burned by the ends of cigarettes which were waved about for conversational emphasis. The noise level in the room had resumed at high decibels.
Once he got past the bar itself, and gazed into the small, tightly packed area of tables, it was easy to spot his man. Brian was seated at a table with four other people, two of them young women in tank tops and multiple earrings. The tabletop was covered with glasses and beer bottles in varying degrees of emptiness. Tyrell stood there, waiting, and Brian looked up, as if he sensed the policeman staring at him.
His immediate, unguarded reaction was alarm, but he quickly covered it with his wide, winning smile. ‘Tyrell,’ he cried. ‘My man.’ He rose partway to his feet, and pointed out the cop to the other people at the table. They turned and gazed at Tyrell with suspicion and mistrust in their eyes, making no effort at sociability. Underage, Tyrell suspected. But right now, he had other concerns.
He waded toward the table and ignored the friendly hand which Brian extended to him in greeting. Instead, he slapped the paper into Brian’s palm.
Brian, who was having trouble focusing his gaze, wrinkled up his nose and looked up innocently at the policeman. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘Restraining order,’ said Tyrell.
Brian shook his head helplessly, to indicate that he had not heard.
Tyrell cocked his head back toward the door. Brian crushed the paper in his hands and followed the policeman out. When they reached the sidewalk, the night seemed suddenly silent and clear. Stars winked above Main Street, and the noise from inside the bar was dim and faraway.
Brian shivered. ‘Shit, it’s freezing out here, man.’
Tyrell could feel the other man trying to be familiar, friendly. He wasn’t about to return the friendliness. Not this time. ‘That’s a temporary restraining order on you, Boots,’ he said, the nickname his only concession to familiarity. ‘It was handed down by Judge Hobart late today.’
Brian frowned at the paper in his hand. Then he shoved it back at Tyrell. ‘I don’t want this,’ he said.
Tyrell roughly pushed his hand away. ‘This means you are not to get anywhere near Miss Russell, or harass her in any way, or I’m going to throw your ass in jail.’
Brian peered at him, the affable expression gone from his face. His eyes glinted at Tyrell in the darkness. He said nothing.
‘Now I know the chief saved your butt again tonight, but that’s the end of it. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’ Tyrell asked. ‘Nowhere near. Not within a hundred yards of her. Clear?’
Riley shook his head. ‘That bitch,’ he muttered.
‘Come again?’ Tyrell demanded.
Brian did not reply.
‘Your troubles are just beginning, man. You stay away from her.’
Brian looked at the paper, and then, coldly, up at the cop. ‘You mind if I go back in there with my friends?’ he said bitterly. ‘I don’t like the weather out here.’
Tyrell shrugged, as if to indicate that he didn’t care. ‘That’s a court order,’ he said. ‘Mind how you go.’
‘I should have let those guys have you,’ Brian said bitterly.
Tyrell didn’t take the bait, though he knew what Brian meant. ‘I’m watching you,’ he said.