6

“STUART,” CHARLIE SAID AFTER CONSTANCE took Tricia out to the terrace, “before we go to inspect the garage, one little detour.”

“Sure,” Stuart said. “Where to?”

“Paley.” They walked through the hallway to the closed door. Charlie tapped, then opened it. He left it open as he entered, motioning for Stuart to come along. Paley was seated at the desk with an open book, writing in a legal pad. He stood and frowned at Stuart as if to invite him to leave. “He’s with me,” Charlie said. “You have something for me?”

“Mr. Meiklejohn, I think we should talk a minute in private,” Paley said.

“Haven’t you heard that transparency is the key word of the day? I have no secrets.”

“I must inveigh upon you that to breach the conditions we all agreed on might cause considerable consternation,” Paley said without moving.

“Right. Now the key if you don’t mind. I have errands to run.”

Moving like an automaton, Paley walked around the desk as Charlie approached with his hand outstretched. With obvious reluctance Paley reached into his pocket. He palmed the key as if to hide it from Stuart and dropped it into Charlie’s hand. His lips were a thin line and he looked as if he were in pain.

“Ah, the magic key,” Charlie said. “Have you had a talk with Mac?”

“I informed him,” Paley said.

“No searches of me or my wife. No interference from the other guys. I trust you will have a little chat with the other two watchmen.”

“I’ll talk to Hanson when he arrives, and I already called Leib, the midnight shift.”

At that moment Pamela ran into the room. “You’re giving him a key to the joint?” she cried. “He can come and go when he wants to? You can’t do that! Are you out of your mind? How do we know he won’t find the checks and walk out with them?”

Paley made a deep moaning sound.

“You don’t,” Charlie said. “Okay, Stuart, now we can take that little tour. See you later, Mr. Paley.”

“Stop him!” Pamela screamed at Paley. “I want to talk to your boss about this.”

When Charlie took Stuart by the arm and headed for the door, Pamela whirled about and yelled, “Lawrence, stop him! He has a key to the house! He can come in late at night and do whatever he wants to.”

Lawrence was standing in the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I don’t think Mr. Meiklejohn wants to be stopped,” he said. “Pamela, you’re screeching in a very high octave. Do you sing soprano?”

She glared at him. “You sniveling pissant!”

#

When Charlie stepped into the hall, Lawrence made a mocking salute and Pamela ran toward the kitchen. Charlie saw Alice step back out of sight. At the other end of the hall by the entrance door Mac was watching them all with a stony expression. He moved aside when Charlie drew near, but turned apologetically to Stuart.

“Sorry, Stuart.”

“No problem,” Stuart said and didn’t move as Mac patted him down.

The two-car garage was detached from the house with a covered walkway to a side door. “It’s unlocked,” Stuart said. “Guess they think there’s no point in another lockdown out here.”

Inside the garage Charlie agreed with his assumption. The garage was empty except for a dolly and a four-year-old Infiniti. Retailers had gone over it. It gleamed like a new car.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Stuart said after Charlie’s quick glance about the space.

“Did what?” Charlie asked, peering into the spotless interior of the car.

“The key business, no search. You want everyone to know. You’re pushing buttons, aren’t you? See who jumps and how high.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlie said with a grin. He drew back from the car and took another quick look around at the empty space.

“Sure,” Stuart said. “Enough out here?”

“Yep. Let’s take a ride to town. I want to buy a few things. My car’s around the front of the house.” They walked around the house to the front parking area. “Whose car is that one?” Charlie asked pointing to the Camry.

“Pamela’s. Dad gave her a new Acura when they married, but she probably sold it when she left and bought that, pocketed a little cash in the deal. I don’t think she knows there are carwashes in most places.” The Camry had what looked like several years of accumulated grime.

When Charlie unlocked his car and got in, he moved Constance’s purse from the passenger seat to the armrest on his side. Stuart got in and Charlie started the car. “Fill me in on you, your father, Pamela.”

Stuart was silent for a minute. “Not much to tell,” he said. “You know my mother was killed by a hit-and-run driver—twenty-six years ago, when I was two. Stolen car, no one ever pulled in for it. After that my grandmother was with us off and on for the next couple of years. I have little memory of any of that,” he said. “Then my grandfather died. Sepsis,” he said. “Ruptured appendix, infection, like that. Grandmother moved down to Orlando when I was four and she was my mother until she died five years ago. Dad has an electrical installation company. It was doing pretty well, I was in graduate school, electrical engineering, and he met Pamela somewhere. They were married within a couple of months. She was in trouble with bad checks or something and he bailed her out. But there was never quite enough money for her. That lasted eight months before he caught on and turned off the money spigot. A couple of months later she took off and stayed gone until now. When the economy went sour, really sour down in Florida the company was in trouble. We’d been gearing up to go all solar installations, investing in equipment and stuff. It’s a natural for down there and would have done great. Instead, Dad had to let people go and he went back to installation himself and fell off a roof. That was eighteen months ago. Two surgeries so far, another one probably in the works for the near future, and the bills are ceiling high. That’s about it.”

Charlie nodded. “When did Howard appear on the scene? You said you were still in school and didn’t meet him.”

“That’s right. I never met him, Lawrence or Ted, either, until this all came up. It was in the spring, just about when Dad and Pamela were slugging it out, three years ago. I got my degree later that spring.”

“What do you know about Howard’s visit?”

“Just what I said before. He got there on a Saturday afternoon, turned down dinner, went back Sunday and stayed an hour or so and left. Dad said there was so little conversation, he had to wonder why Howard bothered. He didn’t even find out why Howard was in the area.”

“Did your father talk about the past, about his brothers and sister?”

“Just about Tricia. Her family came down twice and stayed with us for a few days. They were doing Disney World. The girls are great kids. We’ve kept in touch.”

“Your father didn’t get a divorce, did he? Why not if the marriage was kaput?”

“No forwarding address,” Stuart said. “When she left, she loaded the Acura he bought her with as much as it would hold, probably to hock it all. She trashed the house and was gone when he got home from the office.” He stopped for a few moments, then said, “I would have hunted her down, had her arrested and sent to prison for theft.”

Although Charlie agreed with that sentiment, he didn’t voice his opinion. They had reached Stillwater and the supermarket. “I’ll add a bit to the stash in the refrigerator,” he said in the store, picking up beer. He bought gin, bourbon, mixers, and a powerful flashlight. Stuart eyed the flashlight with a thoughtful expression but did not comment.

“Back to prison,” Charlie said when done shopping. “Anything you want in town first?” Stuart said no and they headed back to the Bainbridge house.

#

“I’m making drinks with gin and tonic water or bitter lemon,” Charlie said later at the door to the library, where Lawrence was reading a magazine. He had left the bourbon in the car. That was not for public consumption. “Or there’s beer. What will you have?”

Lawrence followed him out to the worktable in the kitchen. “Gin and bitter lemon,” he said. Stuart had already opened a beer and Pamela had a glass of gin and tonic.

“Happy hour,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “What? No chips, nachos, or at least peanuts?”

“Next time,” Charlie said. He poured drinks for Lawrence and himself. Then, with a nod to Pamela and another to Stuart, he said, “Why don’t you kids amuse yourselves awhile. Come on, Lawrence, back to the library. I have a hankering to look at picture books.”

Alice was busy at the sink, casting quick glances at them, then away. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like, Alice,” Charlie said, going to the door with Lawrence right behind him.

“I don’t use alcohol,” she said. “God-fearing people don’t need that poison.”

“Well, there you are,” Charlie said. He and Lawrence went on to the library, where the chairs were very comfortable, he thought approvingly. Howard had believed in comfort above style and so did he.

“Actually,” Lawrence said, “I’m sure Alice drinks like a fish. I’ve smelled booze on her more than once.”

“I wonder,” Charlie said in a musing way. “Do fish drink?”

“Damned if I know,” Lawrence said with a laugh.

“Yeah, me too. Do you fear God?”

“No. I made a deal with god a long time ago. I ignore him and he ignores me. It works out pretty well. It must be hell to think that an ever-watchful, never-blinking eye is on you at all times, and to know that when the score is tallied you’re going to burn forever. I’d be scared to death, too.”

Then, surprisingly, he said, “I studied theology for a year and, after I dropped out, I gave various religions a try. Catholicism, evangelism, Judaism, Buddhism, even spent time with the Koran and Islam. When the point came that I found myself either giggling, or my attempted suspension of belief breaking down, I’d drop it for another one.” He drank deeply. “Good. Thanks.”

“What would you do with a million dollars? Or five million?” Charlie asked almost idly.

“Spend it,” Lawrence said without hesitation. “Spend it all before the world ends in 2012, or 2020, whichever is the right date. If it didn’t end, I’d have great memories and be back where I am now, and I know my part in this script. Wouldn’t have to learn new lines or anything.”

“No school? Ted seemed to think you wanted to establish a school of some sort.”

“Ted’s full of it,” Lawrence said. “Look, he was getting under my skin moaning and groaning about the damn farm, paying more for fertilizer, seeds, equipment, everything he needs to buy, and getting less and less all the time for what he has to sell. I don’t have a farm to save, or kids to educate, no sinking business heading for bankruptcy, and Ted seems to think I should have all that shit. He’s fucking jealous of me, so I gave him a school to brood about.”

“You stuck with Yoga, didn’t you?”

“That’s not a religion. It’s a great way to relax and let things go, plus good physical exercise. You should try it.”

Considering the various poses practitioners assumed, Charlie thought it highly unlikely that he would be tempted to try it.

“What do you recall from that day when Howard nearly died and the girl drowned?” he asked.

“Why bring that up?”

“Maybe all this started then. Maybe not. Just covering bases.”

Lawrence shrugged. “We were there every summer from the time I could remember. Hiking in the woods, playing cowboys and Indians, Robin Hood and his gang, swimming, a little fishing. Summer-camp stuff. But it wasn’t working anymore. We were too old for it, and not old enough to think a rocker on the porch was summer vacation high-life. Atlantic City would have been more in line with guys our age by then. Howard and Mary Beth got there late in the afternoon that day. We were bored and they were fresh targets for kidding, so we kidded them. We were all scruffy, shorts, tank tops, barefoot or in sandals, old beat-up sneakers, camp stuff. And they were still in city cloths, high heels for her, suit for him, born targets for some ragging. He took her out to go rowing and we went to the rec room to play Ping-Pong or something. That’s what we did in there, Ping-Pong, board games, music. Jesus, I had my nineteenth birthday just a week before that, the others were in their twenties and we were bored out of our skulls. You can only do so much swimming and we didn’t give a shit about fishing. There was a TV but the reception was lousy and we hardly ever turned it on. Then Mother screamed and Dad was running around looking for his car keys. We took two cars to the clinic. And we waited. And waited.”

His voice was steady and without any evident emotion until near the end when it dropped to a near whisper.

“What was wrong with the boat?” Charlie asked. “Why did it get swamped and sink?”

“I didn’t see it,” Lawrence said after a moment. “Look, Charlie, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a camp like that. It was crude, really rough, meant for guys who wanted to fish and drink, and in hunting season good enough for hunters. Tramp around the woods by day, drink beer or whatever by the fire by night. Play cards. Drink. They didn’t care how it looked or how much it needed repairs. For the most part, when we were young we didn’t either, and probably Dad got it cheap during the off season. There were three rowboats, but two were chained up and we couldn’t use them. The one we did use seemed okay. Old but okay. Dad went out fishing in the early morning a lot of times, he did that day, and it was okay. They said when they hauled it out that a board had come loose, was all the way out from the keel or something. Mary Beth’s hair had got snagged on a nail, and when Howard was trying to free her, the boat rolled and flipped over. They think it hit his head, stunned him. He could have saved himself before that.” He had regained a matter-of-fact manner as if reciting history that was not very interesting to him.

Neither spoke for a minute or two. Then Lawrence said, “Are we done here?”

“One more thing,” Charlie said. “Tell me about the drive-by shooting that killed your friend.”

“Jesus Christ! What does that have to do with anything?” He tensed and appeared ready to spring to his feet and dash out.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “What happened back then?”

Lawrence rubbed his eyes and drank. Without looking at Charlie he said, “Her name was Vickie. I’d dropped out of school, a year and a half majoring in business, for Christ sake. I headed for New York City.” He was speaking fast, almost running the words together. “Got a job backstage at the old Harris Theater. It’s gone now, but then it was one of the off-Broadway theaters where playwrights, actors, directors all could get a start.”

Charlie nodded. He knew about the old theater, one of the worst firetraps in the city when he was still an arson investigator.

“Vickie tried out for a part and we met,” Lawrence said in the same staccato, clipping his words in his rapid speech. “We clicked. She was studying voice, acting school, the whole bit. We were living together in my dump of an apartment, keeping different hours, but together. She got a part in a new play. So she’d be at the theater for rehearsals, then just hang out awhile. That night, she left about ten. I was at work until midnight. Eyewitnesses saw the whole thing out in front of the theater. A car slowed down, shots, then the guy sped away and she was gone.”

He jerked up from his chair. “Now we’re done. I’m getting another drink.” He walked swiftly to the door and left.

Charlie looked at his watch. He would give Lawrence ten minutes to get his drink and take refuge out of sight somewhere. He no longer wondered if Lawrence had studied theology before or after Vickie was gunned down. Her death following Mary Beth’s might have driven him to seek answers. Evidently he had not found them. Interesting, he thought then, that Lawrence had dropped out of school before he met Vickie.

When he strolled out to the hall, Constance was approaching.

“Alice is putting dishes on the table,” she said. “Do you want to eat here?”

“Nope. Let’s get Tricia to hand over that stuff she has and head back to the gingerbread house.”

“Time to unpack,” Constance said. “And compare notes.”

“In due time,” Charlie said with a leer. “In due time.”