Chapter 7
“Dead?” I gasped. “How? When?”
“He was shot,” Aunt Peg told me. “It happened last night. In his home.”
My knees gave out. Thankfully there was a chair nearby. I sank down into it.
“Was there an intruder?” I asked.
“The police aren’t sure what took place. But they’re calling it a homicide.”
A lump rose in my throat. I swallowed heavily. This was all too much to process.
“How did you find out?”
“It’s on the morning news,” said Aunt Peg. “A murder in Riverside is a big deal. Every local station had the story. How could you have missed it?”
“I was feeding the boys breakfast,” I told her. “They’re not allowed to watch TV while they eat.”
“Well, someone ought to be keeping tabs,” Peg said huffily.
“I just can’t believe it.” I realized I was shaking my head, as if denying the news would make it go away. “That’s awful.”
“What’s awful?” asked Sam. He had Kevin with him.
I looked up and he saw the expression on my face. Unfortunately Sam and I have been here before. He knew what to do. “I’ll bet Sesame Street is on now, isn’t it?” he said to Kevin.
The toddler’s face lit up. “Cookie Monster!” he said with a toothy grin.
Sam deposited him in front of the TV in the living room and quickly returned. By that time I’d found that Aunt Peg didn’t have any more information than she’d already given me and ended the call. I was telling Sam the bad news when the phone rang again.
This time it was Bob.
“We’ve already heard,” I said before he had a chance to speak. “Do you know what happened?”
“Just that Nick was shot late yesterday evening. I can’t believe it. Who would do such a thing? Nick was a great guy. We . . . I . . . just had dinner with him a couple days ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know the two of you were good friends.”
Bob blew out a shaky sigh. “God, this is hard.”
“I know,” I said softly.
He didn’t speak for a long time. I didn’t push. I just waited until he was ready to continue.
“Listen, Mel,” he said finally. “I need a favor. Can we talk? Is it all right if I come over?”
“Of course. Anything you want. But Davey’s going to be spending the day at Joey Brickman’s house. So I’ll be dropping him off right down the road from you in just a few minutes. Do you want me to stop by?”
“No, I’m not home right now. I’m . . . somewhere else.”
How very odd, I thought. The definition of not home would certainly seem to indicate that Bob was somewhere else. Was his current location a secret? Was there something he didn’t want me to know?
Then I frowned and reined in my wandering thoughts. My ex had just been hit with news that had to have come as a huge shock. Under the circumstances, it was understandable that he might not be expressing himself clearly.
“Give me half an hour,” I said. “Sam and I will both be here.”
Alice Brickman, Joey’s mom, has been a stalwart presence in my life since we’d met in a neighborhood play group when our boys were less than a year old. We’d quickly discovered how much we had in common and our sons’ compatibility sealed the bond. Davey and Joey had become great friends, and Alice and I did too.
Over the years, she and I had supported each other through chicken pox, snow days, and endless numbers of school projects. We’ve also covered each other’s backs. Alice knew I’d be there for her if she ever needed anything, and I knew she’d do the same for me. So now I didn’t hesitate to strap Kevin into the car when I went to drop Davey off.
I made the drive to Flower Estates on autopilot, my thoughts consumed by the morning’s terrible news. I hadn’t yet had the chance to get to know Nick Walden well, but everything I did know about him made this tragedy seem all the more incomprehensible. Nick had been young, and talented, and eminently likeable. How could anyone have possibly wanted him dead?
Alice answered the door wearing a flowered sundress and flip-flops. Her strawberry blond hair was twisted into a careless knot on the top of her head, and her pale, freckled skin showed the beginnings of a summer tan. Before we even had a chance to say hello, the Brickmans’ Golden Retriever, Berkley, shot through the open doorway. He flew past me down the steps and went careening into Davey. Spinning around, the dog jumped up to plop his big, hairy, paws on my son’s shoulders.
“Berkley, get down!” Alice cried. “As if he ever listens,” she muttered under her breath before treating me to a wide smile. “Great to see you. Do you have time to come in and visit?”
“Unfortunately no.”
Behind me, Davey was giggling. Big dogs, even ones whose manners needed work, didn’t bother him in the slightest. He pushed Berkley down, then ran into the house in search of Joey. The Golden galloped happily along behind, nearly knocking me off the step.
“Hello, Mrs. Brickman,” I called after him. “How nice to see you. Thank you for having me.”
The reminder to watch his own manners didn’t even slow Davey down. He was already gone.
“Oh please.” Alice laughed. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony around here. Considering how much time he and Joey spend together, that child might as well be my second son.”
True, that.
“So tell me what’s wrong,” said Alice. That’s how well she knows me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Actually yes,” I admitted. “Do you think you could watch Kevin for an hour or two?”
“Sure.” Alice nodded. “Carly has a friend coming over too, so I’ve already got four. I’ll hardly even notice one more.”
Carly was Alice’s daughter. At nine, she was graceful as a willow and loved nothing more than dance. Except maybe kittens, and the color pink. I adored my rough-and-tumble sons, but sometimes I envied Alice her very girly daughter.
“Trust me, you’ll notice this one,” I told her. “He’s two and into everything.”
“Like I haven’t been there,” Alice scoffed. “At least he’s still at an age where I can pick him up if I see trouble coming.”
She accompanied me down the steps to the driveway. Kevin was still in his car seat. Before I could open the Volvo’s door, Alice put out a hand to stop me.
“I’m happy to watch Kev, you know that. But it wasn’t what I meant when I asked if I could help. Is everything all right?”
I shook my head. “A friend of Bob’s was killed last night. He wants to come over and talk about it.”
“Nick Walden.” Alice’s face fell. “I heard about it on the news. What an awful thing. He seemed like a great guy.”
“You knew him?” I asked, surprised.
“I just met him once actually. I was walking Berkley—which is to say that Berkley was walking me. You know how that goes.”
I did. Berkley was supposed to be the kids’ dog but, not unexpectedly, Alice was the one who’d ended up taking care of him. And since no one in the family had the time to devote to consistent training, the young, rambunctious Golden Retriever tended to do things his own way. His walks with Alice often appeared to be less like a team effort than a wild ride that both participants hoped to survive.
“Berkley and I ran into Nick outside Bob’s house one day,” Alice said with a grimace. “As in, we literally ran into him. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention because when B saw something interesting and started to run, the leash flew right out of my hands. By the time I caught up, Nick was standing on the sidewalk with the lead wrapped around his legs. Even worse, Berkley—who obviously was stuck too—was barking like some demented hound from hell. Of course I immediately started to apologize.”
“Of course,” I agreed.
“And then I got a good look at Nick and all I could think was, Oh crap, why did I run out of the house looking like this? Would it have killed me to put on a little lipstick to walk the dog?”
That made me laugh. Yeah, Nick was that cute.
“But you know,” Alice continued, “he couldn’t have been nicer about the whole thing. Not only that, but in less than a minute the two of them were untangled and Berkley was sitting calmly beside him like a perfect angel. I have no idea how Nick did it. It was like watching someone perform magic.”
“Nick was a dog whisperer,” I said softly. My smile died as the enormity of the loss hit me again, making my chest feel hollow and empty.
“That’s what he told me.” Alice expression grew somber too. “He said that Goldens make great family dogs, but even great dogs need steady, dependable training. He offered to give me a few pointers.”
“That sounds like Nick. He wanted the best for every dog he came in contact with.”
“I took his card and tucked it away,” said Alice. “I planned to take him up on his offer when the kids’ camps start and I have more time. I’m sure he could have helped us.”
Just one more way in which Nick’s death had been a tragic waste. “I barely knew the guy,” I said. “But I know I’m going to miss him.”
“Don’t make me cry.” Alice reached up and scrubbed a hand across her cheek. Then she reached around me and opened the car door. “Kevin will be fine here until you’re ready to come and get him. And you’ll have to tell me what Bob says. Maybe he knows something that can help us make sense of what happened.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “But I wouldn’t count on it. I don’t think there’s anything that could make me feel better about this.”
I’d barely arrived back home when Bob’s dark green Explorer turned in to the driveway. To my surprise, another car followed behind his. The second car was a small, red, Japanese hybrid. There appeared to be a woman driving it.
I stood in the front hall and stared shamelessly out the window, waiting for the pair to get out of their cars. I wanted to see who our second visitor was.
“What are you doing?” asked Sam, coming up behind me.
“Spying,” I replied, my voice hushed. As if I was afraid that the people outside the house could hear me.
“On your ex-husband? I didn’t know you were still that interested. Should I be worried?”
“I’m not looking at him.” I pulled Sam over beside me and pointed out the window. “It’s the woman I’m curious about.”
By now she’d stepped out of the second car. She paused for a moment and gazed over at the house. Aviator-framed sunglasses covered her eyes; I couldn’t read her expression. The woman was tall and slender, wearing a narrow linen sheath dress in a bright shade of pink that complimented her dark, glossy, hair. Her arms and legs were bare; she’d dressed appropriately for the warm summer day. Even so, she didn’t look comfortable. Or maybe I was reading more into her stance than was actually there.
Bob had disembarked too. He stood next to the Explorer, waiting for her so that they could walk to the house together. When she reached his side, he slipped an arm around her waist and briefly pulled her close.
As I watched, Bob leaned down and said something to the woman. His lips brushed lightly across her silky hair. His hand continued to rest lightly on her hip. The contact between them appeared both supportive and intimate. Whoever the woman was, she and Bob knew one another well.
“Oh,” said Sam.
I reared back and looked at him. “What does that mean?”
Sam didn’t answer. Instead he slipped past me and opened the door. I stayed where I was and stared after him. Oh indeed.
Bob and the woman were already coming up the wide front steps. She lifted a hand gracefully and slid her shades up on top of her head. Her eyes were amber, flecked with bits of brown. She smiled briefly as Bob made the introductions.
“Melanie, Sam, this is Claire Walden,” he said. “Claire is Nick’s sister.”
I did not see that coming. Choking on the greeting I’d meant to offer, I just stuck out my hand instead. Thankfully Sam’s manners were smoother. He invited the couple inside. That gave me the minute I needed to regain control. But . . . Bob and Nick’s sister?
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said to Claire. “I only met your brother recently, but I was hoping to have the chance to get to know him better.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Her gaze slid past me and went to the pack of Poodles gathered at the back of the hall. The big black dogs had come running when the door opened. But instead of offering their usual exuberant welcome, today the Poodles seemed to sense the mood of our guests. A palpable feeling of sadness hung in the air and their response was equally subdued.
When Claire crouched down and held out a hand, the dogs didn’t rush forward to overwhelm her. Instead they surrounded her quietly, pressing their bodies against hers and offering their own silent brand of support.
“What lovely Standard Poodles,” said Claire. She looped an arm around Raven’s neck and gazed at Augie, whose long hair was held in place by an array of protective bands and wraps. “Is that one a show dog?”
“They all were, at one time or another,” I told her. It was easier for both of us to talk about the Poodles than about the true reason for their visit. “Augie is the only one who’s being shown right now. He belongs to our son Davey.”
“Davey,” Claire murmured. “Of course.”
My eyes widened. Claire knew Davey? I shot my ex-husband a questioning look over her head.
Bob, that coward, pretended not to notice.
Ignore me at your peril, I thought. Then my gaze shifted to Sam. How much did he know? Was I the only one who didn’t have a clue what was going on?
Sam must have sensed the tension in the air. He moved quickly to change the subject. “Come on in and sit down,” he said to Bob and Claire. “Does anyone want food? Or something to drink?”
Nobody took Sam up on his offer of refreshments. Instead we all followed him into the living room. Bob and Claire headed for the couch. I helped myself to a chair.
The Poodles came with us and Raven continued to remain close to Claire. When she took a seat on the couch, Raven sat down on her feet and leaned her warm body against Claire’s legs. Bob, outmaneuvered by a Poodle, had to be content with a seat at the other end.
“Claire wanted to talk to you about Nick,” Bob began.
I nodded, then waited for Claire to chart the course of the conversation. When she continued to remain silent, Sam said, “We only know what’s been reported on TV. Do the police have a better idea of what happened than they’re telling the media?”
“They have a few more facts, but not many,” Claire said. She stopped and shook her head. “All they know for sure at this point is that Nick was shot last night in his home. There was no forced entry. They’re speculating that he knew the person who shot him.”
“Any sign of a struggle?” I asked.
“No. And Nick’s dogs were there with him. He has two, a Rottweiler mix and little terrier. They’re both pound puppies but they’ve been with Nick for years and are utterly devoted to him. If my brother had tried to defend himself, I’m sure they would have helped him if they could.”
That was interesting.
“Who has the dogs now?” I asked.
“They’re with me,” Claire said. “I picked them up this morning. It was because of them that Nick was found.”
“Apparently they started barking and howling.” Bob picked up the story. “Nick’s neighbor said the noise went on for more than an hour. She told the police that that was highly unusual. She said Nick never allowed his dogs to cause a disturbance. So she went next door around nine o’clock to check and see if everything was all right.”
“She took one look in the front window and called the police,” said Claire.
“So Nick had a nighttime visitor,” I mused. “Someone both he and his dogs must have felt comfortable with. Did he have a girlfriend?”
Bob snickered, then quickly apologized. “Sorry. Yes, he did. Short answer, yes.”
I turned to Claire. “What’s the long answer?”
“There’s one girl he’s been involved with for several months. Her name is Diana Lee. But Nick is the kind of guy who attracts women. It’s not unusual for him to be juggling several at once. I guess he and Diana are serious enough but my brother’s not big on commitment.”
“Was that a source of friction between them?” I asked.
Claire shrugged. “If it was, I never saw it. I never saw anything wrong at all. That’s what’s so awful about this. My brother was fine. He was building his business, he was happy with his life, he was in a good place. Until . . .”
Claire didn’t finish the sentence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bob wince. Maybe that should have clued me in to what was coming. I hate it when I’m the last person in the room to catch on.
“Until?” I prompted her.
Claire lifted her head and jutted out her chin. “Until he got himself mixed up with your Aunt Peg.”