CHAPTER FOUR
“How did you know I occasionally drink light beer?” H asked Mac as she sat back in her chair. She’d made it through one piece of pizza. Normally she would eat two and eye a third, but Taft had put her on edge.
“I know people.”
Ah. Okay. “Ricky. Bryan ‘Ricky’ Richards. My ex-partner,” she guessed.
“Ricky . . .” He cocked his head and thought that over.
“He became one of Prudence Mangella’s surrogates during the ‘stolen’ jewelry that was in the pawn shops. She relied on Ricky and he let her.”
“That guy’s your partner?” Taft’s brows lifted. “The one Pru flattered and pretended interest in.”
“Ex-partner,” she reminded. “And yes.”
He shook his head. “I know other people.”
“Someone at the department.” She didn’t wait for his answer, just listed everyone she could think of at the River Glen PD, but Taft didn’t react to any of the names.
“I’m an investigator,” he said, shrugging it off.
Mackenzie formed the words to point out that she’d hardly ever talked to him before today. That she didn’t see how he could know so much about her without a deep dive into who she was. But she decided to let the questions wither on her tongue. The truth was, she was kind of flattered that he’d taken the time to note that small detail about herself.
After a long silence, Taft spread his hands and said, “Okay, I saw you pouring Tecate Light into a glass at Mexicali Rose. You were with a woman with hair pulled up into a bun who’s about your same age and a man, likely her husband, based on the wedding bands, with a trimmed beard, no mustache, left-handed, wearing a Best Homes jacket.”
“That had to be two years ago,” Mackenzie said, not quite able to hide her surprise. “My stepsister and her husband. I didn’t see you.”
“I was in the restaurant,” he said offhandedly. Mackenzie took a swallow of her now warm beer, needing a moment to think. He’d impressed her. She had a lot of half-formed ideas about him, some not so great, but he’d definitely risen in her opinion with that one. “Nolan doesn’t work for Best Homes anymore. He’s with Laidlaw Construction.”
“Didn’t get along with Best?”
“Didn’t get along with Best,” she agreed.
“What happened with Bennihof?”
She should have figured they’d get back to that again. She shook her head. “I’m not going there.”
“Hmm.”
But she couldn’t help herself from asking, “How’d you know about him?”
“Open secret.”
“Open secret, my ass,” she said. “Someone would’ve told me.”
“There was a woman in dispatch I knew who found herself alone with him in his office after hours.”
Mackenzie blinked several times. “After hours . . . ?”
He eyed her shrewdly. “I’m guessing you had a similar experience.”
The woman who was currently in dispatch, Barbara Erdlich, was built like a fifty-gallon drum and tough as nails. She was affectionately known as the Battle-axe and enjoyed the moniker, apparently, as she even addressed herself with the same pejorative and glared down anyone who tried to suggest it was improper. The woman before her, however, had been young and exceptionally pretty. She’d only worked a week or two while Mackenzie was on the job, then she was gone and the Battle-axe took over. Now Mac wondered if the Battle-axe had been purposely hired. Maybe more people knew about Bennihof than she thought. “What was her name?” asked Mac.
“Katy.”
“That’s right. I didn’t know she left because of Bennihof.”
“She’ll only tell you that if she’s drunk enough.”
“Oh.” Mackenzie tried not to roll her eyes.
“It wasn’t like that. I interviewed her, several times. That’s all.”
“Sure.”
“I told her she should Me-Too him. Exposing him’s the only way he’ll leave. She didn’t want to.”
“If that look is because you think I should’ve been the one to do that, put it to rest. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t get that far,” said Mac.
“I’m not giving you a look.”
“Yeah.” She snorted.
“You quit the job.”
“Because it wasn’t working for me.” She hesitated. “And it wasn’t going to work for me in the future, either.”
He lifted his palms.
“Why do you want Bennihof out so badly?” she asked.
“He’s bad for the department as a whole, bad for morale, bad for any woman he sets his sights on. I don’t like guys like that.”
He’d left two different police departments on bad terms and might have his own axe to grind. “Bad for the department?” she questioned.
He didn’t rise to the bait, said instead, “I’ve seen my share of those guys, in one form or another, in one job or another. Political appointments, mainly, though a lot of them don’t make it to chief. I don’t have a lot of success with them, and I don’t have any respect.”
“Okay.”
“A lot of good cops out there. I wouldn’t call Bennihof a cop. I left the job . . . or it was suggested I leave the job . . .” His smile was ironic. “But I didn’t leave the work. I’m still investigating, which is why we’re here.”
He’d unfolded himself from the chair and his height made her feel small, so she scrambled to her feet as well. He stuck out his hand and she cautiously did as well. They shook hands.
“So, am I on for surveilling Seth and Patti, starting tomorrow . . . morning?” she asked.
“As much as you can keep tabs on them. He’s dealing the stuff. Maybe she is, too. They’re going to make some move soon. It’s like they know they’re being tailed, so maybe they caught me at it.” He said it like there was no way for that to be true. “Whatever the case, something will break. I’m counting on you to take this seriously.”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Keep in contact. If something happens, let me know. Otherwise we’ll circle back in about a week?”
“Sounds good.”
He nodded and held the door. She walked out ahead of him, inhaling deeply as she passed, far too aware that she liked the clean, male scent of him.
As soon as she was in her SUV she headed toward Seth and Patti’s place, needing to assure herself that they were still in their current rut of work, home, and the Waystation. The lights were dimmed but she could see the flickering of the television and more importantly, Seth’s truck in the driveway.
Satisfied, Mac drove back to Mom’s house. She would make keeping eyes on Seth and Patti a priority for Taft, but she hadn’t forgotten Bibi’s request to find out what had happened to Rayne Sealy. Though Bibi had pointed to Seth, the ex-boyfriend, as a likely place to start, there were other avenues of investigation as well. Mac had planned to try to interview Seth and see what he knew about Rayne, but she was going to put that off for a bit now. Other people knew Rayne. Other people who worked for the Coffee Club and there was Rayne’s mother and her sister, who Bibi had said still lived together in River Glen. Mac had the address. It was possible that they had information on the mysterious boyfriend among other things. She hoped to interview them soon, although they were playing a little fast and loose about getting together. Nobody appeared to be all that concerned about what had happened to Rayne. Mackenzie had gone to Rayne’s apartment and learned that she’d told the manager she was leaving, given her thirty-day notice, only to take off both early and shy of a few days’ rent. Maybe it was true that she’d just disappeared with her latest Mr. Right. It definitely seemed to be within her modus operandi.
* * *
Monday morning Emma stood behind the counter at Theo’s Thrift Shop, her place of work. Theo had arranged the donated clothing on metal rounders and there were stacks of items on tables, folded shirts, pants, shorts, toys, and household goods. Bigger items were in the back or along the wall. There was one bike that Emma liked. She didn’t have anywhere to ride it, but she thought maybe she should use one. She could see herself riding along with Duchess trotting beside her.
As if discerning her mistress’s thoughts, Duchess looked up at her from where she was lying next to the counter and gave Emma the eye before turning her attention toward the front door. She liked to watch. At first Theo had resisted Emma bringing Duchess to work, but Emma couldn’t leave her at Ridge Pointe every day and make someone else take care of her. Realizing the issue, Theo had allowed Emma to bring Duchess as long as the dog behaved herself. Duchess got along with Dummy . . . well, Bartholomew, Theo’s little dog, so it worked out okay, and luckily, Duchess seemed to get it. She was well behaved at work, and well behaved at Ridge Pointe, except when it came to the cat.
“Twinkletoes,” Emma muttered in disgust. No, that was not the cat’s name.
The door opened and a mom with two young blond-haired daughters entered. Emma recognized her. She came in once in a while by herself, once in a while with her kids.
“Is Theo here?” the woman asked, craning her neck to look around.
Emma hesitated. Theo was out picking up lunch, but she didn’t like people thinking Emma was alone. That’s why she kept the television on low in the back room to one of those stations where people yakked, yakked, yakked about politics. Emma didn’t think much of politics. She preferred food shows and was still glum over the fact that all her favorite episodes had been erased when her sister upgraded their cable subscription and got new DVR boxes. But now, at her own place at Ridge Pointe, she’d found a few new shows that were pretty good and she was filling up her own DVR. She was proud of the fact she was a good programmer. A lot of people at Ridge Pointe weren’t.
“I’m Kendra. I don’t know if you know me?” the woman asked, looking at Emma anxiously. There were deep lines in her forehead.
Emma shook her head.
“I keep hoping you’ll have children’s bikes. They’ve outgrown the ones they have. You’d think the girls were twins, but they’re not. They’re just the same size. It’s a problem.”
“We have one bike,” Emma said. It was hard to get the words out. She didn’t want the bike to leave. But it wasn’t her bike. It was the thrift shop’s.
“Oh, I know. That one’s too big. Theo said if one came in in a children’s size that she would let me know.”
“None came in,” said Emma.
Kendra tilted her head a bit, as if to really check Emma out. This happened a lot. When people looked at her strangely Emma knew she’d said something wrong somehow. Jamie had told her that it was her deadpan delivery. “It sometimes stops people. They’re not sure if you’re serious or you’re putting them on,” her sister had explained.
“I’m always serious,” Emma had responded, affronted.
“I know that, Emma. But they don’t know that.”
“I’ll tell them I have a problem,” Emma had assured her.
Jamie had screwed up her face and said, “I don’t think you need to say that. Just, if they look unsure? Like they want to ask a question, but don’t know quite how? Tell them you mean what you say.”
“That I’m serious.”
“Exactly. You don’t have to give them your life story. Just make them feel comfortable.”
Now Kendra looked longingly over at the bike. One of the girls was reaching toward a pile of toys and just as Kendra turned toward her, she picked up a big bag of blocks that she couldn’t handle.
“Paige! Stop!” Kendra yelled, as all the colored blocks crashed out of the bag and onto the wood floor, making a huge clatter.
Duchess barked and Emma put her hands over her ears before she could stop herself.
“Sorry, sorry!” the little girl cried as Emma dropped her hands and shushed Duchess, who’d jumped to her feet.
Kendra rushed over to the girl. “Oh, Paige,” she sighed. She looked at Duchess and Emma. “I’m sorry. I’m just so . . . I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Emma as Duchess lay back down, her chin on her paws, watching.
The other little girl rushed over. Paige broke into sniffles and cried, “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!”
“Mom told us not to touch anything,” the second girl tattled.
“I can handle this, Brianne,” Kendra said, exasperated.
Emma went over to help pick up. She looked down at the yellow, blue, red, and green blocks that Kendra was feverishly grabbing up and trying to put in the bag. There was, however, a big hole in the bag’s netting and the blocks kept tumbling out. “That isn’t going to work,” said Emma.
“I’m really sorry.” Kendra kept putting blocks in the bag, oblivious to the fact that as soon as there were enough of them, they would squeeze out through the hole.
“I’m serious,” said Emma.
“I promise I’ll take care of it,” Kendra said shortly. She gave Paige and Brianne a mean look.
“I didn’t do anything!” Brianne shrieked as Paige started to cry again.
“There’s a hole in the bag,” said Emma.
Kendra shot her a dark look. “What?”
“There’s a hole in the bag. Just leave the blocks on the floor. We need a new bag.”
“Oh . . .” Kendra looked flustered for a moment, saw what Emma meant, and straightened to full height. “Okay, well, then I guess we’ll just go. I . . . tell Theo I was here. I’ll come back tomorrow. I just really need . . . Wait. Let me leave my number.”
Emma went to the counter and ripped off a sticky note from its pad. Kendra scratched down her number and then she hustled the two girls out the door as if she couldn’t bear to stay another minute.
When Theo returned about ten minutes later Emma was just finishing picking up the blocks and putting them in a paper bag instead of the navy netting. Theo was holding Dummy . . . Bartholomew . . . under one arm and a paper plate with a sandwich covered in plastic wrap in her other hand. She set the paper plate on the counter for Emma.
“What happened?” Theo asked. Theo had gray hair and was small and wiry. Dummy was the same and he was trying to scramble out of Theo’s arms to Emma. Emma took the dog, who tried to wash her face with his tongue. He was one of the main reasons Emma had gotten Duchess. Jamie had seen that Emma wanted a dog and so Emma, Jamie, and Jamie’s daughter, Harley, had trooped to the dog place that Jamie’s friend had recommended and voilà!, there was Duchess.
“Voilà,” Emma said as Duchess lifted her head and stared hard at the wriggling dog Emma placed on the ground. Dummy raced over to Duchess, tail snapping back and forth. Duchess rolled her eyes up at Emma. Emma knew sometimes that Duchess felt Dummy was a little too much. That’s what Mom used to say before she died. “Emma, that’s just a little too much.”
Emma picked up the plate with the sandwich and told Theo about Kendra and the little girls and Theo shook her head as if she didn’t want to hear it.
“I wish I could get her what she wants, but it’s not like I can magically make someone donate a couple of kids’ bikes the right size. You just have to come and see what we’ve got.”
“She saw nothing.”
Theo nodded. “If you want to knock off early, go right ahead. Your bus’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Oh, right. Jamie dropped you off with Duchess.”
“I’ll stay the whole day. Jamie will pick me up.”
“Okay, then would you mind bringing down the Easter supplies after lunch?”
“Yes, I will.”
As Theo took over the counter Emma went into the back room kitchenette. She set the plate on the counter, then washed her hands. After drying them, she removed the plastic wrap from the sandwich and then picked up one of the cut halves. She really liked her sandwiches in four pieces, but she wasn’t supposed to use knives. She thought maybe she could use a knife and it would be okay, but sometimes when she looked at the sharp blade she would shy away because she would think of how you could be hurt by a knife, just like you could be hurt by banging your head on a fireplace or something else. Emma knew by experience. She tore both halves of the sandwich in half, then ate the four pieces one by one. Every day she worked at the Thrift Store Theo would bring her a tuna sandwich. Occasionally Emma worked when Theo wasn’t there, but Emma didn’t like it as much. Theo would have one or the other people work with her and Emma didn’t feel as comfortable with them.
Finished, she recycled the paper bag and threw the plastic in the trash, then she collected a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank about half of it down, before putting it back in the refrigerator. She would drink the rest in the afternoon.
Before she left the kitchenette she grabbed the sponge and disinfectant cleaner and wiped down the table. She then lined up the sponge next to the faucet on the sink, straightened the salt and pepper shakers, and headed toward the narrow flight of stairs at the back of the kitchenette that led to the attic storeroom. There wasn’t a lot of headroom on the top floor so she had to duck as she started looking through the holiday supplies. She found Easter and started pulling them out. She preferred organization to working the front of the shop. She was good at putting things away and making sure they were in the right spots. St. Paddy’s Day was over and she needed to also pack leftover items into boxes for next year.
Several hours later she was back on the main floor when she heard her sister’s and niece’s voices outside. They came in and Emma was glad Harley had come to pick her up as well. She loved Jamie and Harley. They were her family. And Duchess, of course.
“Hey,” Harley greeted her with a high five. Emma didn’t mind high fives, but she didn’t like hugs very much. Harley was a junior at River Glen High. She’d been a sophomore last year when she and Jamie had moved back to River Glen from Los Angeles. Harley had fallen in love with a boy from school, but he’d graduated and had left town. Harley said they kept in touch, but she didn’t talk about him much anymore. Emma thought maybe it was over. That’s what happened with relationships sometimes. They were over.
Harley had dark hair and it was long now and pulled into a ponytail. She’d started wearing more makeup and Jamie had told her it was “over the top,” which had made Harley mad but she’d stopped putting on the smoky eyeshadow some. Jamie’s hair was light brown, like Emma’s. Now Jamie smiled at Emma and asked, “So, how’d it go today?”
“Fine.” This was the question Jamie always asked her. It was okay, though. It was just her sister’s way. Jamie was in love with Cooper Haynes, who’d been a friend and classmate of Emma’s in high school. If Emma had to leave Duchess at Ridge Pointe, either Harley or Emma or even Cooper usually came to take her outside during the day. But sometimes Emma had to ask that waiter-guy, Ian, the one who smoked marijuana cigarettes outside the building after hours. Emma and Duchess had caught him when they were outside on a walk to let Duchess do her business. “Want a hit?” he’d asked in a squeaky voice, holding the smoke in his lungs.
“I don’t do drugs,” Emma had told him.
“Neither do I,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smelly smoke. “Just toke a little.”
Emma wasn’t sure whether she liked Ian or not. He was good with Duchess, but he also liked the cat and Duchess didn’t like the cat. There had been several hissy fits from the cat when Duchess barked at her.
Emma said to Jamie, “Paige knocked over the blocks and they fell out of their net bag. I had to put them in a paper bag.” She picked up the net bag with the hole in it from the counter and showed them.
“Excitement at the Thrift Shop, huh?” said Harley. “Who’s Paige?”
“One of our customers’ little girls,” explained Theo.
Duchess was on her feet and staring up at Harley expectantly.
“No treats,” Emma warned her niece.
“What did I do?” asked Harley.
“You have treats in your pocket,” said Emma. She was pretty sure Harley knew that already.
Harley made a sad face at Duchess, who got to her feet and nearly rushed Harley for a pet. “I know. It sucks,” Harley murmured. “You’re on doggy Weight Watchers.”
“But she’s in good shape now,” Jamie reminded.
Duchess had been eating too much after Emma went to Ridge Pointe. It had been hard for both of them to make the change, even though it was a good thing to do. Emma hadn’t been careful enough with Duchess, but like Jamie said, the dog was in good shape now. They were both happier.
“Well, let’s get going,” said Jamie. “We’ve got dinner in our future and I’m substituting tomorrow.” Harley gave her a sharp look, and Jamie made a sound in her throat. “Freshman class. Not you,” she said on a huge sigh.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Harley with a shrug.
Emma kinda thought it did. Harley never liked her mom substituting for any of her classes, though Harley had admitted it didn’t bug her as much as when she was an underclassman. But it still bugged her.
They drove directly to Jamie’s house, the house that was their mom’s before she died, the one they grew up in. Jamie was thinking of selling it but Harley had put her foot down. She didn’t want to move again, even across town. Also, Cooper was over a lot and Harley argued that they needed the space.
“He practically lives with us,” Harley had told Emma. “Which is fine, but why do we have to move? I’d be okay if Marissa wanted to move in and take over your old room.”
Marissa was Cooper’s daughter and Harley’s best friend. Emma had almost stayed at the house, too, because she loved her family, but she’d always wanted to go to Ridge Pointe. Mom had wanted that for her, too, when she was alive, so Emma had moved out. It made her feel a little funny, though, thinking about Marissa taking over her old room.
“Marissa lives with her mother,” Emma had said, starting to feel anxious.
“Well, yeah, but sometimes she could be with us. Right?” Harley had looked at Emma for assurance.
“I’m welcome back anytime,” Emma had pointed out.
“Absolutely. I was just saying sometimes Marissa could live with us. It would be cool.”
“She’s your BFF.”
“Hell, yeah. And no swearing. I know.”
Emma hadn’t been about to chastise her, but it was the rule that they were all supposed to follow. It was good that Harley knew that, but it didn’t stop her much.
“What are you making for dinner?” Emma asked Jamie now, as they all trooped into the house through the back door.
“Lasagna,” said Harley as she raced up the stairs to the second floor. Duchess didn’t hesitate, just chased after her as she did whenever they were at Jamie and Harley’s.
“Close. Rigatoni,” Jamie said to Emma as they heard Harley’s bedroom door shut behind her and Duchess. She glanced at the kitchen clock. “Cooper should be here in about an hour.”
Whenever Jamie picked up Emma from work they all had dinner all together.
“I don’t have to have pasta,” said Emma. “I like sushi, too, now.”
“And tuna sandwiches. I know. But I was in the mood to make some. Tell me what’s been going on at Ridge Pointe while I get things ready.”
Emma sat down at the table and clasped her hands on the tabletop. Sometimes she helped Jamie cook, but she had to be asked. Sometimes she made some mistakes while cooking. “Jewell says Rayne’s a hot pants,” she informed Jamie.
Her sister gave her a quick look. “Older Jewell with the white hair?”
“It’s Old Darla. Not older Jewell. Jewell’s hair is gray.”
“Who’s Rayne?”
“That girl that worked in the kitchen for a while. She had a boyfriend with long hair that she was kissing under the portico. Mrs. Throckmorton saw her. She said it was her grandson. . . .” Emma frowned. Her head hurt a little as she bore down on her thoughts. Very hard to put things together sometimes. “Jewell said Rayne had lots of boyfriends and that Mrs. Throckmorton’s a gossip.”
“Sounds like Jewell might be the gossip.”
Emma looked at her sister in wonder. “That’s what I said!”
“So, it’s news that one of the younger people who works there has or had several boyfriends?” Jamie asked dryly.
“She doesn’t work at Ridge Pointe anymore. Jewell said she has tattoos.”
“A lot of people have tattoos. Harley wants a tattoo.”
Emma heard something in her voice. “You don’t want her to have one?”
Jamie ripped open a box of rigatoni with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t mind tattoos. I just remember when Harley was a baby and her beautiful, soft skin. I can’t get that image out of my head. This unblemished skin, just so . . . perfect.” She shrugged. “I told her when she’s eighteen, to have at it. She’ll be an adult and can make her own choices. I don’t really care, I just . . .” She shook her head and poured water into a pot, then put the pot on the range top. “It’s just confusing. I don’t know. Parenting’s different and it doesn’t really end at eighteen, either. I mean, they might be adults, but there’re still a lot of years ahead, and I still want some influence, too, you know? I’ve never been a helicopter parent. Harley would never allow that, even when she was little. But I hate to be completely irrelevant and that’s where it feels like I’m heading.”
She looked at Emma and Emma felt a certain pressure to answer her, but Jamie held up her hand. “Don’t look so worried. I’m just working through stuff. Other parents with teenagers are struggling with these issues, too.”
“It’s confusing.”
“Yes. Confusing. Uncertain. I wish I had more answers than questions. All of the above. Parents of my students sometimes ask me for advice, and they want answers and it feels like all I can give them are platitudes that they’ve heard before.”
“You don’t have to give them your life story,” said Emma.
Jamie stopped short, then laughed. “No. You’re right. I don’t.”
“You said those words,” reminded Emma.
“I know.”
Emma shrank back when her sister headed her way. She could tell Jamie intended to hug her and she didn’t like to be hugged. But her sister just came over and held up her palm for a high five. “Thanks for listening to me,” said Jamie as Emma slapped her hand.
* * *
Bibi Engstrom drove home carefully from the bar, on the lookout for cop cars tucked into hidey-holes alongside the road. She’d had more to drink at the River Glen Grill than she’d intended. It was a Monday night. She’d sat at the bar during Happy Hour and forced herself not to have more than two drinks . . . which had turned into three, maybe four, when that guy had started flirting with her. He’d bought her a drink, maybe two. It was a little hazy.
She should’ve taken Uber or Lyft, but she only lived a few miles from the restaurant. She hadn’t even meant to stop. She’d just . . . been tired. Her asshole of a husband, Hank, had packed up and moved in with his bitch of a girlfriend. He’d left . . . really left . . . and he wasn’t planning on paying the rent next month and she had nowhere to go and there was hardly any savings and she was going to be broke.
Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want Hank anymore but she didn’t want him to want someone else, either. And the rent . . . and utilities . . . what was she going to do?
Rayne owes you money....
She exhaled as she turned onto her street. Like she was going to get that back anytime soon. She’d loaned the money, knowing full well it was probably a gift where Rayne was concerned. It hadn’t been a lot of money anyway, but now she needed it.
She pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the garage. The garage was full of Hank’s stuff.
As she climbed out of the car she heard a knocking under the hood. The car was probably going to conk out on her. And she didn’t have any way to fix it when it did. She didn’t have a job. She’d once thought about being a hairdresser, but never gone through the training. She’d worked as a waitress for a New York minute, but then she’d married Hank and she’d quit. That was four years ago now. A lifetime . . .
Swiping at her tears, she aimed for the front door, stumbling a little. A car drove by slowly and she looked around, a shiver sliding down her spine. She couldn’t make it out in the dark because . . . well . . . she was a little buzzed, but it felt . . . bad, like someone was watching her.
The keys fell out of her hand as she tried to thread one in the lock. She bent down to pick them up and nearly toppled over. Her head was whirling. She grabbed on to one of the porch posts, wishing she’d left a light on for herself.
You did, didn’t you?
She blinked in the dark. Yes. She’d definitely left the light on, but it wasn’t on now.
Had Hank come back?
Or was it something else?
She finally managed to get the key in the lock and she threw her shoulder into the door as it always stuck. It gave way and she was in her living room. She switched on a table lamp and the room flooded with light . . . only to reveal that half the furniture was gone. Hank had cleared out what he felt was his. And he’d turned out the light.
Well, shit.
Now that the split was really upon her, Bibi was sad, really, really sad. She’d liked being married. Liked to say that she was married. Liked having just one man.
She worked her way to the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten enough at the restaurant, just some peanuts and one order of french fries. Too expensive. Now she dug through the refrigerator and pulled out some celery that was an anemic white-green. She ate without tasting, wondering if there was a bottle of wine left in the garage mini fridge. Unlikely. Hank had made sure there was no extra booze around weeks ago.
She decided to look anyway and walked carefully toward the door to the garage. Her equilibrium wasn’t so hot. Turning the handle, she yanked the door open and flipped the switch.
She stared in open-mouthed horror at the cleaned out, empty space.
“Hank!” she cried aloud.
He’d come in and emptied the place! She’d nagged him throughout their marriage to clean up his shit, and he’d done it in one day, the few hours she was at the bar.
“Asshole!” she shouted, then burst into tears, sank to the step that led from the kitchen into the garage, and bawled her eyes out.
She was too distraught to look out a window and see the vehicle that had turned around at the end of her street and was driving slowly, slowly past again.