Camilla T. Crespi - The Breakfast Club Murder (32 page)

“Us is in the past, Rob. Let’s just worry about now. If you have any news from the police, good or bad, please let me know.”

As she walked to the door, he said, “When Jess comes home next week, is there a chance I could, you know . . .” He left the question in the air.

Lori turned around slowly. “You could what?”

“Spend some time at the house?”

How long was “some time,” Lori wondered. Two days, a week? For good? She wasn’t prepared to think about it now. “I don’t think so, Rob.”

“I didn’t buy the Jaguar you saw. I only leased it.”

As if that solved anything. Lori closed the door behind her.

With Streisand singing Sondheim in the CD player, an overnight bag in the backseat, an avocado and turkey wrap on her lap, and a full tank of gas, Lori headed for Cape Cod. She had refused to go along with her mother’s request to call her every two hours, but she had given her and Beth Warren’s Cape Cod address and phone number to stop them from worrying. During the hurried minutes she’d been home, Lori had called Jessica, who accepted her sudden upcoming visit with the usual teenage roller coaster of emotions, suspicion followed by elation, more suspicion, and closing with seeming indifference. Lori was looking forward to seeing Jessica, no matter what her welcome was.

Rob had to be missing her, too. “I’m so sorry about us,” he had said with a stricken face. His first show of remorse. When he asked to come home for a few days, what had he been trying to tell her? Did he know what he wanted? Should she let him? Jessica would be ecstatic. Lori knew she didn’t want Rob back in her home, not even for one day, but how could she explain that to her daughter? Lori imagined her reaction. “How could you, Mom? Don’t you have a heart? What about me, Mom? What about how I feel?”

And if she did let Rob come home and sleep on the couch in the den? What would that change? He would still be the man who walked out, who had done irreparable damage to her and the daughter he claimed he adored, who was only back because his new wife was dead, who would surely walk away again as soon as he was healed. But with Daddy home, Jess would start hoping that maybe he was back for good. And if, by the slimmest chance, he did want to stay, Lori wouldn’t, couldn’t, have him. Not even for Jessica’s sake. She loved her daughter more than she could say, but love for Rob was gone. Theirs would not be a family, only a cold, lifeless gathering of three unhappy individuals.

Once Lori hit Route 90, she punched the number Alec had given her. “I need cheering up,” she said when he answered, not giving her name first, treating him like an old friend.

“Another picnic tonight, then?”

“I wish.”

“Do you have a cold?”

“Sinus trouble.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lori could tell from the politeness in his voice that he didn’t believe her. She was sorry she had lied to him now. She was sure he understood tears very well. She was also sure he would never pass judgment. How she knew this, she couldn’t tell. Maybe the divorce had given her a sixth sense to recognize genuine goodness.

“Look, I’d love to try the gnocchi recipe you sent me,” she said. “I bloom with optimism when I cook, and you’re a great mood enhancer, I’ve discovered. That combination would really be great. Any chance you’re free tomorrow night?”

“I would enjoy that very much, but first I should tell you that I’m not—”

Lori jumped in, her face suddenly hot. “I know. I think that’s wonderful.” What was she saying? “I mean, it’s fine. Really. Seven thirty?” She thought she heard a chuckle at the other end.

“I’m glad you feel that way. Seven thirty it is. I’ll bring the wine.”

“Great.” Lori said goodbye and punched the off button. He must have thought she was making a pass at him. Thank God, now the gay issue was out in the open. She turned up Streisand and took a large bite of her avocado and turkey wrap. She was feeling better, but Cape Cod and the town of Chatham were still a long way away.

Lori stepped out of the car into the white brilliance of what she called water light. She lifted her face to the sky, inhaled the salt air, and waited for the knots in her body to loosen, smooth out. Only then did Lori look at her surroundings. Warren’s vacation home, bought when he was still married to Margot, surprised Lori. Knowing the Dixons’ tendency to show off the money they had, she had expected a sumptuous ultramodern house with glass walls and impeccably kept grounds. Instead she was looking at the back of an old-fashioned, two-story beach house with cedar shingles that had aged to a soft pale gray. The small windows had white trim and peeling sky-blue shutters. At one side of the house, a narrow blue door, also peeling, probably led to the kitchen. The land the house sat on was a spontaneous mixture of wind-bent scrub oaks, weeds, sand, and tall grasses. Only its location, facing the beauty of a wide bay, spoke of money.

As Lori walked to the trunk of the car to get her overnight bag, a fanny-wagging black cocker spaniel hurled itself at her thighs, followed by a running Jessica, who flung her arms around her mother. “It’s cool you’re here, Mom.”

“Thanks. That’s a nice welcome.” Lori gave Jessica a tight squeeze while the dog wiggled itself between their legs, licking them to claim some attention.

“Stop it, Gertie,” Jessica said. “That’s icky.”

Lori stepped back to enjoy the sight of her barefooted daughter, in frayed denim shorts and a moss green tank top, happily scratching the dog’s ears. Her skin had turned to a warm walnut tan and her hair had bleached into a mass of pink-gold curls. “You look wonderful, sweetie.”

Jessica blushed and pulled at the dog’s collar.

“How’s Deuce?”

“He left yesterday, but it’s okay because I need my space, you know?” Jessica took Lori’s overnight bag from her and they walked to the kitchen door with Gertie following. “I mean, I like him and all,” she said while opening the screen door, “but why do guys have to take over?”

“Only some of them do,” Lori said. Rob was in that category. Jonathan, too. “You have to stand your ground.”

“That’s what Angie said, but it’s kind of hard when you want him to like you. You should do this. You should do that, like you don’t have a brain of your own. It’s so obnoxious. I finally told him to lay off and he left.”

They walked into a large linoleum and Formica kitchen with yellow metal cabinets. Lori was reminded of the kitchen she grew up in until her mother, after a good year at the travel agency, went for granite and tile. “I’m sure he didn’t leave because of what you said.” Lori followed Jessica up a narrow back stairway to the second floor, wondering where Warren and Angie were.

“I knew he was leaving. That’s why I told him. I want him to think about it.” Jessica opened a door to a small, sparse room with striped cornflower blue and white wallpaper, a small bureau, a single bed covered with a yellow and white quilt, a child’s rocking chair, a blue rag rug on the wide plank floor. A narrow window below a sloping ceiling overlooked the bay. Jessica sat on the bed cross-legged with Gertie pushing up against her.

Lori unpacked the few things in her bag. “You don’t look unhappy,” she said.

“Angie says I’ll cry tomorrow, but I don’t think so.”

“Good for you.” Her daughter had more gumption than she’d ever had. “You’ve made a friend,” Lori said, watching Gertie stretch herself over Jessica’s legs.

“Gertie’s great. Can we get a dog now, Mom? Can we? I promise I’ll take care of it. Walk it, feed it, everything. I promise.”

A promise that might last at most until school started. Lori shifted her pajamas from one side of the drawer to the other. A big soft mutt who would fill the empty space in her bed and give her undying devotion. It was tempting. And it would keep Rob out of the house. He was allergic. “Let’s talk about it when you come home, okay?” Lori turned to face Jessica and was met by wary eyes. “I’m not saying no, sweetie.”

Jessica shrugged off her words. “Why did you come, Mom?”

How much more time would it take for Jess to trust her, Lori wondered, sitting down next to her. “I missed you and I needed to talk to Warren about a few things.”

“Dad’s okay?”

“I saw him this morning. I’d say he’s as okay as he can be under the circumstances. It takes time to heal.” Lori stopped herself from adding, “as you know.”

Jessica pushed Gertie to one side, her expression still cautious. “You’re not angry about my not telling you who called Valerie in the car that night?”

“I understand. You have to keep your promise to Angie.” Anyway, she had a pretty good idea who the caller was.

“Thanks, Mom.” Jessica stretched out her long legs to the floor. “We better go down. Warren’s waiting for you to have cocktails on the beach. Come on, Gertie.” She stood up and looked down at her mother’s high-heeled sandals. Lori hadn’t wanted to waste time changing to a more casual outfit. “Lose the shoes, Mom.”

Warren, in a red bathing suit with florid stomach jutting out underneath an old yellowed polo shirt, stood up from his Adirondack chair as Jessica and Lori, now barefoot, approached. Behind his bulky frame a narrow path of sand cut through pale green grasses and led to the shimmering blue of the bay. To the right, a wooden sailboat rocked gently next to a short pier. Above, the paler blue of the sky held a low string of clouds that looked squirted from a pastry bag. Warren grinned. “Welcome to Margoland.”

Angie, knee deep in the water, waved. Jessica and Gertie ran in after her.

“Thanks, Warren,” Lori said, waving back to Angie. “What a beautiful spot.”

Warren’s eyes were focused beyond her shoulder, on the empty path leading back to the house.

“I’m sorry,” Lori said, understanding. “I didn’t reach Margot, but I left her a message.”

“Thanks.” His face didn’t betray any disappointment as he reached for a glass pitcher filled with green leaves steeped in a cloudy liquid. He slipped dark sunglasses over his eyes. “A mojito to get you in the beach mood?”

Lori accepted half a glass and settled in the other Adirondack chair. They made small talk and munched on potato chips while watching the girls splashing in the water with the dog, whispering girl secrets in each other’s ears, laughing. The sliding sun enveloped them with the soft light of late afternoon.

They are so happy together,
Lori thought.
May it last forever.

“You came up here for help,” Warren said after Angie and Jessica, with Gertie in tow, ran back to the house to change. “What can I do?” His jovial tone had turned somber.

“You wrote up Rob and Valerie’s will.”

“Yes, I did. Not my department usually, but they thought it was urgent so I complied. Good thing, too. Now that Rob inherits so much money, I think we should revisit your financial arrangement with him. It’s worth a try. We can play on his guilt. No reason he should be the only one to benefit.” Warren lifted the pitcher to refill Lori’s glass.

“No more, thanks. That’s not why I’m here, Warren.”

He refilled his own glass. “I hope you aren’t taking my helping Rob and Valerie personally.”

“I didn’t like it at first. I guess I felt you belonged to me, you were my lawyer, but I was being childish. Business is business.”

Warren leaned forward, his big bear face now close enough for Lori to see his eyes behind the sunglasses. “I didn’t stop to think how it would affect you. I’m not good in the sensitivity department, as Margot liked to remind me. Sometimes I think it’s the secret of my success as a divorce lawyer, but it makes poor marriage and friendship material.” His voice softened. “I’m sorry, Lori.”

She wanted to believe him and yet she couldn’t stop the questions. “I don’t understand why Rob didn’t use his own law firm for the will. He could have gotten some young lawyer to work over the weekend for him.”

“It’s good policy to keep your private business away from ambitious young lawyers in your own firm who might one day use it for their own advancement.”

Lori hadn’t thought of that. She never liked to focus on people’s baser instincts. She took a stab in the dark. “You used to date Valerie before Margot came along.”

Warren sat back and took a long sip of his drink. “That was a long time ago.”

“She called you when she wanted a lawyer.”

“What are you trying to get at?”

“Valerie received a phone call while she was driving the girls back to Margot’s house the night she died. Angie made Jess promise not to tell anyone who it was. I can only suppose it was you Angie is trying to protect.”

“Not Margot?”

“Why protect her? She had every reason to call, since Valerie was driving Angie home.”

Warren’s shoulders slumped. “Lori, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to help Jess’s father. Forgive me, Warren, I am turning into a woman I hardly recognize and don’t like much, but I was looking at our two girls having a great time, and I want it to stay that way. Please tell me if you called Valerie that night?”

“Even if I did call Valerie, it doesn’t make me her killer.”

“I’m not saying it does. You called her and she told you she was driving the girls back.”

“I had no reason to call her. The wills were signed. She left nothing in my office. Why would I call her?”

“Maybe because you were friends. Maybe because you are the man she was still in love with.”

Warren chuckled. “Who fed you the fantasy that she was in love with anyone besides herself?”

“Her cousin Ruth.” She wasn’t going to tell him that Rob had confirmed it.

Warren slipped his sunglasses on the top of his head. “You believe her, but not me.” He was looking at her kindly when Lori had expected him to erupt in anger. That disarmed her.

“I don’t know,” Lori confessed. “I’m so scared of what could happen that I clutch at anything that floats before my nose.”

“I understand that, but you’ve got to admit you make a lousy sleuth. You expect everyone to tell you the truth. That’s not the way it works with most people.”

Rob used to remind her that she always saw the glass as three-quarters full, a viewpoint she had picked up from Papa and thought she had lost thanks to Rob. Maybe she hadn’t yet. “Why would Ruth lie to me?”

“Ask yourself, instead, why would Ruth tell you the truth?”