Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) (15 page)

I reached out and pressed a couple of fingers against her lips to stop her from speaking. Suddenly I could breathe a lot easier. I reached out and grasped her hands, pulling her up and settling her onto the glider. Then I fell back on my bony ass on the carpeted floor, feeling a dozen different degrees of stupid.

“Did he hurt you?” Brenda asked at last, sounding frightened.

I shook my head. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself to speak without my voice cracking into a million pieces, but I had to at least try. “It was my fault,” I said, not sure I believed it. At that moment, I wasn’t at all sure what I believed.

The tears continued to stream down her face, and I knew that I had caused her this monumental, most terrible pain. “I don’t know. I didn’t — ” I couldn’t come up with any more detailed explanation for my abominable behavior.

This time she reached out to press her hand against my lips. “What a fine pair we make,” Brenda said. “We’ve got so much baggage between us we might as well be porters.” She laughed, but there was no mirth behind it. She reached for my hand and clasped it tightly. “You’re so afraid of Da-Marr, and I’m just as afraid of Evelyn.”

“Why does she scare you?” I asked, willing to do anything than admit my own failings.

“Because. In my parents’ eyes, she could do no wrong. She did everything right. She married the right guy. She had great kids. She had a successful career….”

But that wasn’t at all what she meant.

She seemed to be gulping great drafts of air. “I’m scared, Jeffy. I’m about to have a baby and all I want is my mama. She wouldn’t come, but Evie said she would. But … it’s not the same. I knew it wouldn’t be good, but I let her come anyway, and all she’s done is try to destroy the family I have here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I let this happen.”

And then it was her turn to completely lose it. Suddenly she was sobbing uncontrollably and I was scared to death her water would break and I’d be thrust into the role of midwife — something I wasn’t at all prepared for. Instead, I struggled to my knees, threw my arms around her, and let her cry into my shoulder for what seemed like way too many minutes. Nobody should ever have to cry that hard. Her heart was breaking and I, too, was so swallowed up by her misery that tears leaked from my own eyes once again.

First Morrow’s fear. Then Brenda’s remorse and sorrow — it was a terrible, awful place to be, and yet I didn’t let go. I held on to her. I tried my best to comfort her as I had with my mother. She who was too often drunk, who couldn’t take care of herself, let alone me. It had been a terrible situation, and yet I’d loved her unconditionally. I loved Brenda the same way, and yet it was often she who took care of me. Now I had a chance to repay the favor.

Eventually Brenda’s sobs quieted, but I could still feel the emotional pain that had a stranglehold on her heart. She pulled back and wiped a hand across her bloodshot eyes. “What’re we going to do?”

I let out a shaky breath. “I guess there’s nothing to do but get through it.”

“I wish I could just send them home, but … that isn’t going to work. I just want to be with Richard, and you, and Maggie. You’re my family here in Buffalo. We don’t have anything to prove to each other.”

I was glad she felt that way, but I also felt the tug of pain she felt for her missing twin. She’d lost a part of her soul when Ruth had died — and more than a decade later the wound was still a raw slash across her soul. I wished I could say something to comfort her, but at that moment, I was just as big a basket case.

An unopened box of baby wipes sat on the shelf below the changing table and I grabbed it, struggling to rip the plastic wrap from around it. Once open, I handed her a wipe and took one for myself, wiping that cool paper-cloth across my face and drinking in the baby-powder-like scent.

I sat back on my heels and looked around the messy room. We only had days — if that — to pull the nursery together, but at that moment I knew it was the farthest thing from Brenda’s mind.

“Richard said you already know all about our girl.”

Just the thought of little Betsy Ruth was like a balm to my soul. “She’s gonna be one hell of a great kid.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to have a daughter,” Brenda said and looked down at her swollen abdomen and laughed.

“You sure are.”

“You’re going to be an uncle.”

“Yeah,” I said and laughed, and yet somewhere inside me I also knew that being Betsy Ruth’s uncle was as close as I would ever get to parenthood. It was just never in the cards. When I was married to Shelley, I figured we’d eventually have a brood. Now I knew better and felt unaccountably sad.

“I need a drink,” Brenda said wearily.

“It’s another hour or so until happy hour,” I told her.

“I haven’t had a drink in almost nine months. I’m overdue.”

“When Betsy arrives, I’ll bring you a bottle of Dom Pérignon.”

Her expression soured. “You will not.”

“Who says?” I challenged.

She tried to hide a smile, but it peeked out anyway. “You will? But you can’t afford it.”

“Hey, I’ve got a generous landlord. He doesn’t charge me an arm and a leg for my humble abode, so I can sometimes splurge.”

Brenda shook her head, but her smile was beatific. “No, I guess he doesn’t.”

I sobered. “Hard as it is, I think we can get through the next week or so. At least, I’m willing to try.”

She reached for and captured my hand. “It won’t be easy for either of us.”

“Yeah, but we’re made of tough stuff.”

“Not!” she said, and we both laughed.

That’s when I knew we were going to be okay. Whatever shit had gone on since Evelyn and Da-Marr had arrived was not going to impact our lives in the long run. We were family once again, and it felt good.

And then I remembered that horrible yawning light that threatened to suck me into it and everything I’d just accepted as truth seemed to crumble.

The fact was that I might be dead in the not-too-distant future.

And the thought scared me shitless.

Richard and Evelyn returned from the grocery store sooner than he’d expected. He followed her into the house, hands filled with plastic grocery bags, when Da-Marr stormed into the kitchen.

“She’s crazy!” he hollered, absolutely livid.

“Who’s crazy?” Evelyn demanded.

“And that brother of yours is an asshole,” he railed, stabbing the air with his index finger. “A stupid, wuss of an asshole!”

“What’s going on?” Richard, too, demanded.

“Aw, it ain’t my fault,” Da-Marr backpedaled. “I went in the baby’s room and he was there. He picked a fight with me. And then he went berserk.”

Richard’s insides froze. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice low.

“I was just gonna give him a tap when — ”

“Holy Christ,” Richard grated, and practically tossed the groceries onto the kitchen table.

“Richard! Do not take the Lord’s name in vain in my presence,” Evelyn bellowed. She didn’t wait for a further explanation, and took off in the direction of the stairs.

“Did you hit him?” Richard asked, finding it hard to keep his voice from rising.

“No!”

“Then what happened?”

“He made out like I did. And then Brenda showed up and started screaming at me. She said some terrible things. She’s crazy.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t know. She was screaming so loud, nothing she said made sense and then she told me to get out.” He pushed Richard. “And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Wait!” Richard called, and went after him.

Da-Marr grabbed his jacket from a peg in the butler’s pantry, yanked open the door, and stormed out.

Richard felt no urge to follow, and instead he turned and started toward the stairs. Evelyn was on her way down, looking furious.

“She ordered me out! She wouldn’t even tell me what had happened. I’m beginning to think Da-Marr’s right. That girl
is
crazy!”

Richard took the stairs two at a time, but he stopped at the landing and listened. No sound came from the nursery where the door was closed. He walked softly and paused at the door, listening, but heard nothing. Quietly, he opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Brenda sat on the glider, and Jeff was on his knees — the two of them holding onto each other for dear life, while Brenda sobbed uncontrollably.

Richard hesitated for a long moment, fighting the urge to interrupt, and then closed the door softly.

He turned and slowly, quietly retraced his steps to the bottom of the stairs.

He saw Evelyn sitting on one of the living room chairs, her back to him, and ignored her. Once back in the kitchen, he put the groceries away. Glancing out the window, he noticed the garage door was open and that Brenda’s car was missing. Da-Marr must have taken her keys.

Biting back anger, Richard resisted the temptation of a glass of Scotch. It was just too easy to pour himself a glass and sit and brood.

Instead, he went to his study, sat in what had long ago been his grandfather’s big leather chair behind the desk, and stared out the window at the gloomy gray sky. The leaves on the maple tree out back had already started to fall.

Da-Marr had made two unforgivable mistakes. Threatening Jeff, and taking the car. God only knew where he was and what he was up to.

Richard wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, thinking of too much — and nothing — for far too long, but eventually he got up and wandered down the hall, passing the living room where Evelyn still sat, only now she was thumbing through a magazine.

In the kitchen, Richard pulled out a couple of glasses, filled them with ice, and then poured Scotch, neat, in one, and bourbon in the other. Then he took out a wine glass and filled it half way with Cabernet. Grabbing a tray from the cupboard, he tossed a clean tea towel over it and headed up the stairs.

Upon arriving at the nursery, he found the door still closed and knocked.

“Come in,” came Brenda’s muffled voice.

Richard turned the handle and stuck his head inside. Jeff was on the floor with the instructions beside him, while Brenda sat on the glider, holding up the partially assembled crib. “Can you use an extra pair of hands?” he asked.

“Yes,” they said as one, and laughed.

Leaving the door open behind him, Richard entered.

“And what have we here?” Brenda asked, looking intrigued.

“Just what the doctor ordered,” Richard said, whipping off the towel with a flourish. He passed out the glasses and set the tray on the changing table.

Brenda sniffed the contents of her glass. “Is this real?”

“As real as it gets,” Richard assured her.

“But what about — ?”

“One glass is not going to hurt the baby.”

“It sure isn’t going to hurt me,” Jeff said, and took a good slug of bourbon.

“Hey, wait for the toast,” Richard said. “To Betsy Ruth.”

They clinked glasses and drank.

“To the crib!” Brenda proposed.

They clinked again.

“To us,” Jeff chimed in.

“Let’s not chug it,” Richard admonished, and they all laughed. The icebreaker had worked, because the ensuing conversation was likely to be hard on all of them.

Richard eased himself down to the carpet, set his glass down, and picked up one of the errant crib pieces. “Now, where does this go?” he asked.

I’d arrived at Maggie’s well before dark, and wasn’t sure exactly when she was likely to return from visiting Lily at the rehab facility. I knew she’d be hungry and have no interest in cooking, so I stopped at the grocery store and bought a selection of ready-to-heat entrees and sides that would feed an army. She wouldn’t have to make dinner for a couple of days. After putting everything in her nearly empty fridge, I went downstairs to visit my cat, who latched onto me like a leech. I hadn’t realized how much we would miss each other when I’d dropped him off the day before.

“It won’t be long before you can come home, buddy,” I told him, and the cat’s purr launched into overdrive.

I fed Herschel and read Lily’s copy of the morning paper, keeping my cat company for more than an hour before I heard Maggie’s car pull up the drive. Less than a minute later, she came through the communal door, where I met her and Holly, who whined with happiness to see me.

“Good girl,” I said, petting the dog.

“How about me?” Maggie asked tiredly.

“You’re better than good.” I tried to give her a kiss, but Holly jumped up between us, trying to lick both our faces at once.

“Ugh! Dog germs!” Maggie squealed with delight.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I suggested. The cramped entryway could not accommodate the three of us.

“Upstairs!” Maggie said, and Holly raced up the steps for the apartment, while I turned off the lights and locked up Lily’s apartment.

By the time I made it upstairs, Maggie had shed her coat and had wandered into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and whooped in surprise. “The dinner fairy has visited,” she announced with joy — something I hadn’t heard in her voice for a long, long time. She grabbed a beer for herself and one for me. “I’ve been waiting all day for this. Let’s go sit down in the living room.”

Holly tried to tell us she was near death from starvation, so before we could settle down Maggie fed the dog, and we finally sat down to the sound of happy slurping in the kitchen.

Once seated, I gave Maggie a proper kiss, and then we clinked beer bottles, not unlike what I’d done with Richard and Brenda several hours before. But this was different. The three of us had discussed what had happened in the nursery between Da-Marr and me — with Brenda coming to my rescue. I didn’t want to rehash it with Maggie, but I did need to talk. Before I could unburden myself, I had to make sure that she was up to it, and if she wasn’t … then I would just have to keep the rest of the day to myself.

“I can’t tell you how happy I was to see your car in the driveway when I pulled up.”

“It’s been a while,” I said, and took a sip of my beer.

She sighed. “I know I haven’t given you much attention lately, but I got good news today. Lily is making amazing progress. They say if she keeps improving, she might be home as early as next week. And I heard from Gary. He’s coming up this weekend, and he’s agreed to pay for home help until Lily is back in tip-top shape.” She smiled. “It’s been a really good day.”

I looked away. There was no way I was going dump my load of shit on her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I took a long swallow of beer. “I’m glad you had a good day.”

“But I can tell by your expression that you didn’t. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “It’s not that important. Let’s celebrate your day.” I held my beer bottle up as though in a toast. We both took a sip, and I leaned back farther on the couch. After all that had happened that day, I was too numb to even feel disappointment.

“Most of the stuff in the fridge can be nuked,” I said. “You should have enough for another dinner and maybe a lunch or two.”

She gave me a sweet smile. “You got all my favorites. Thank you.”

I shrugged.

The silence seemed to hover.

I got up and crossed to the stereo. A stack of CDs sat on top of the amplifier. I picked out a bunch I knew she enjoyed most and loaded the five-disk player, hitting the ON button. Soon southwest new age issued from the small speakers.

By the time I sat back down beside her, Holly had finished her dinner and was happily licking her chops. As usual, she pressed her warm body against my leg, settling her head on my thigh and looking at the two of us with adoring eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are we going sit here all evening and make innocuous conversation?”

“That was kind of my plan.”

“I can tell by your eyes that something is very, very wrong.”

“I don’t want to spoil your day.”

“And I want to make your day better. Please, let me help — if only by listening.”

I reached over to hold her hand and a warm wave of affection rolled over me.

“Tell me,” she said softly.

I nodded. “I don’t know what was worse — the crap with Sam or the crap with Da-Marr. I think I’ll let Brenda explain the latter. I don’t think I’m up to it. But the bottom line is they’re going to ask him to leave.”

She sighed and squeezed my hand. I don’t envy Brenda for having that conversation.”

“She’s reached the end of her rope, too. If you’ve got time tomorrow, I think she’d appreciate a call.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Maggie promised. “So what’s going on with you and Sam?”

“Have you heard the name Jack Morrow?” I asked.

She sighed. “Please don’t tell me he has you looking for the guy’s murderer.”

“No, of course not,” I sort of lied. “But Sam
is
interested in finding the guy’s hidden assets.”

“I read about Morrow’s death in the paper. Don’t tell me Sam made you relive it.”

I let out a shaky breath.

“Oh, Jeff. Why do you let him pull this garbage on you?”

I wasn’t going to mention the gun he’d loaned me. Firing that gun had saved Maggie’s life, too, but it would just bring up all the bad memories of what we’d been through some four-and-a-half months before, and that wasn’t a place I wanted to revisit.

“It doesn’t matter why I agreed to help him, what matters is….” I frowned. What did matter? That I was freaked out by what I’d seen? Maybe I should talk to her about the white light that wanted to swallow me — sucking me into everlasting oblivion.

“Sam’s taken me to see Morrow’s home and the car where he was killed.”

“Oh, Jeff,” she admonished. “That had to be terribly gruesome.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It was. And tomorrow he wants to take me to Morrow’s office to see if I can soak up any other vibes.”

“Please don’t do it.”

“I don’t know how to say no to him.”

“You say … no!”

I let out a long breath. “It’s not that easy.”

“What on earth can you possibly owe this guy that you’d take on this kind of obligation?”

I couldn’t tell her:
your life; Richard’s life. My own life.

“It’s a pretty big debt,” I admitted.

She shook her head, exasperated with me.

We were quiet for a long few minutes, sipping our beers, listening to the quiet flute and percussion on the stereo. It was one I must have heard hundreds of times before, and yet I — and I knew for sure Maggie — had never grown tired of.

Maggie spoke first. “So what have you learned?”

I knew exactly what she was talking about. “Morrow didn’t tell his killer where he hid his money. The guy shot him. But it’s not the end of the story, because like us, the killer is looking for those assets.”

“How close are you to finding them?”

“Not very,” I admitted. “In fact, I think visiting Morrow’s offices tomorrow will be a big waste of time, but I feel I have to go, if only to placate Sam.”

“The guy is dead. His offices have been closed for more than a year. That means the place is probably empty. Goodness knows there aren’t going to be any assets hidden there. Morrow would have moved them.”

“But Sam thinks I might be able to pick up residual vibes.” I told her about the billiards chalk and all the information I’d gathered from it.

She shook her head. “You’re going about it from the wrong angle. Concentrating on the killer isn’t going to find hidden treasure. You said yourself, he’s still looking for it.”

“I know, but I haven’t been able to learn anything of relevance from touching any of Morrow’s possessions, either. I get a sense of who he was and what he did — but it’s like skimming the surface of the ocean. He was good at hiding things. About himself, mostly. And he apparently hid them from everyone he knew. For a scheme like the one he perpetrated, I guess that’s the way it would have to be. I doubt he felt safe confiding in anyone.”

Maggie was quiet for a long moment before she spoke again. “I don’t like this. You have bad feelings about stuff — and I have a bad feeling about this.” The lines around her eyes seemed to deepen. “Please don’t go with Sam tomorrow, Jeff.”

I shrugged. “I don’t see how I can get out of it.”

She wasn’t going to beg. She never begged. Instead, she nodded. “Then I want you to be careful. Promise me you’ll be very careful.”