Keeping the Peace (16 page)

John coughed. “We were talking about Seeley.”

“Sorry.” Strand looked down at the floor. “We were all there, and the phone rang. My mother picked it up and said something like, ‘Oh, Richard. How are you?’ Something like that. When she got off the phone, she said she’d invited him to dinner. That didn’t make my sister or me very happy, but she was so thrilled about the horse and I was so thrilled to be able to do it for her that we just let it go.”

“So he came to dinner?”

“Yes. Yes, he did. And you know what? From the minute he walked into the house, he seemed changed.”

“Changed? How so?”

“Belligerent. Like he had a chip on his shoulder. He’d always been kind of a jerk, but he hardly spoke to my sister, even when she told him about the horse. He was always pretty nice to her before, but now it was like he didn’t have any time for her. He kept asking my mother all kinds of questions, like whether she going to move now that the band was doing so well. And he asked me, since I bought my sister a horse, was I going to buy my mother a car? Stuff like that. And the weirdest thing was that he brought her a present.”

“A present? What was it?” asked Melanie.

“It was an expensive bracelet. One of those wide ones. A cuff, I guess you call it. It was more than I figured he should be spending. Random.”

“Did your mother keep the bracelet?”

“No. She told him it wouldn’t be right, that it would make her feel uncomfortable. Anyway, he stayed for dinner, but it was a weird evening.

“After that, he called my mother a couple of times, but she wouldn’t go out with him. I think it kind of pissed him off. One time, I answered the phone, and when I told him she wasn’t there, he said he wished he could make the money I did by not working. I kind of freaked out on him and told him I worked all the time, sometimes all night long. And I wrote the songs, too, and that’s not easy. Then he said that he knew my mother was there, which she really wasn’t, and to tell her to give him a call when she could break away from her kids.”

“Were you aware of any personal problems he was having at the time?” asked John.

Strand shook his head. “No. Not a clue about his personal life. And since he’d quit his job at the high school, my mother didn’t know much about what he was doing, either, except it was supposed to be some counselor job. So, everything was quiet for a couple of months. It was a great couple of months for us because album sales went through the roof. Then, in March, my business manager told me I could buy a house. I freaked, man, I tell you. I couldn’t believe it. When he told me how much I could spend, I freaked again. All of us in the band were, like, unbelievable, man. My mom and sister and I had the best time buying a house. My mom wanted a place where she could garden. And my sister wanted a pool and a place closer to where she kept her horse. We found a really nice house in Beverly Hills, with the right zip code, too.”

“And where was Seeley through all this?”

“Well, I don’t know. That’s the weird thing. He had stopped calling my mother after those initial attempts to get back with her. Then, on the exact day we moved into the new house, I swear, the first call we got on the phone—on the landline—was Seeley. I don’t even know how he got the phone number.”

“Did he ask for your mother?”

Strand held up his finger, to make the point. “Here’s the thing,” he said, “that made it creepy. The caller ID gave me an unfamiliar cell phone number, and I thought it might be one of my band guys calling from some other phone. So I answered it and said hello. Richard Seeley said, without any introduction or anything, ‘I know where the new house is; it’s real nice. Tell your mother I said it was real nice. She’s lucky her kid could buy her a house.’ Then he hung up. I thought that was strange, and I told my mother. She just shrugged and said it seemed to her that the last time we saw Seeley, he had changed somehow.”

“Meaning…?”

“After that phone call, he started calling every day. He didn’t say anything threatening, but he would just ramble on to whoever answered the phone—me, my sister, my mother. I thought he was drinking or taking some sort of drugs. We got the landline number changed, and we all got new cell phones. Everything was quiet for about a week. Then, I had a gig in Seattle. We flew up there that day, did the gig, and we were supposed to stay overnight for an appearance on a local morning show. Well, really early in the morning, I get this call from my sister. She sounded upset, and when I asked what was wrong, she said she had gotten up early, before my mother, about five o’clock, and looked out her window, and she saw Richard Seeley in the street. Just standing there, looking at the house.”

“At that hour? Was she sure it was him?”

“That’s what I asked her, but she said, yes, it was him. I was really spooked, so I let Mike, my bass player, take the rest of the guys on the show, and I blew home as fast as I could get there. My mother had already called Richard to tell him that his behavior was unacceptable and to please leave us alone. I was angry that she had talked to him at all.”

“Did he say anything to her?”

“He said something like she needed a life of her own instead of living off her son. He said that just because I had made a lot of money, I wanted to control her and my sister. Then my mother asked if he was in some sort of trouble. He said he missed her and just wanted to get back together. Then he hung up. After that, the weird stuff wouldn’t let up.”

“What weird stuff?”

“He kept leaving flowers outside the gate. Sometimes, he would ring the bell on the gate, and when my mother answered the intercom, he would say he just wanted her to know he was thinking of her. He followed her in his car a couple of times too, like to the grocery store or when she dropped my sister off at school. He went to the stable where we board my sister’s horse, saying that he just wanted to leave a note for my sister. The girls at the barn didn’t think anything of it, so they let him leave the note.”

“What did the note say?”

“It didn’t make any sense. It was a rambling letter asking why my mother had retired and that my sister and my mother had better get out from under my control, that he would help them. It said something about how he was sick of being ignored. Everyone ignored him. Stuff like that. I can’t remember all of it, but that’s when I went to the police.”

“Was there anything threatening in the letter?”

“Not directly, no, but it was still sinister.”

Melanie finally spoke. “It sounds like some sort of displaced anger to me. Like he was blaming you for your mother not going out with him. Or something worse, like mental illness.”

“I think he wanted in on the financial gains, too,” Strand said bitterly. “He was probably sorry he was such an asshole to me. Or that he had pushed my mother to sell her house.” The musician sighed. “Who knows? Anyway, we got a restraining order.”

“Were there any repercussions from that?”

“He made some sort of statement. That’s what you saw in the tabloid, but other than that, no, there didn’t seem to be. We haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

John stretched his legs out in front of him and shut off the tape recorder. He stood and looked out the window at the snow. The clock in the hallway struck nine. The chief felt like he hadn’t slept for a week. He said, “I’m going to take a shower and get back to the office. We’ve got to find out where this Richard Seeley person is right now, before he has time to cover his tracks.”

“You think it was him who killed Bruce?” Strand asked.

“I don’t know, but we have to act on every lead. You haven’t helped matters, Strand. It certainly sounds like he had a grudge against you, and depending on the depth of his obsession, who knows? Whether you like it or not, you’ve brought a lot of trouble to my town, and I’m not happy about it.” John turned to leave the room. He was beginning to let his personal feelings influence his professional behavior. Besides, the lure of hot water was calling him.

“What’ll I do?” Strand asked after him.

John looked back from the doorway. “You stay right here,” he said wryly. “Stay here with my wife.” Then he paused. “Actually, I do have something you need to do. I’d like a transcript of your personal e-mail. I need to see these threats we were talking about. Mou—Mia’s on her laptop now, going over some of these message boards or whatever you call them for me, trying to find suspicious comments. Go see her. She can print it out for you, too. We can trace people through e-mail and do it pretty fast. Will you do it?”

Strand shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “You want my e-mail from the band web site or my personal e-mail?”

“I’d like them both. And maybe you could highlight the suspicious ones. Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to take a shower.” He turned and left the room without looking at his wife.

John lifted his face into the shower and let the steam and hot water wash over him. He had gotten his second wind somehow, and the shower reinforced it. He felt his energy returning. It was best not to think about lost sleep.

Above the rush of the water over his ears, he heard the bathroom door open. “Hey!” he cried. “I’m in here!”

There wasn’t a place in this house where a person could escape for even a few minutes! Kids would barge in anywhere; they had no boundaries. He felt himself agreeing with his mother-in-law: it was their mother’s fault. Even here, in his own bathroom that he’d carved out of the closet in their bedroom with his own hands, for the express purpose of privacy from the children, he could get none—but it was Melanie.

“What do you want?” he grumbled, soaping himself all over.

“I want to know what you meant by that parting shot.” She sounded huffy, and he was glad.

“What parting shot?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“‘Stay here with my wife.’ What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently. He rinsed himself leisurely and then turned off the shower. “Hand me my towel, will you?”

She opened the glass door and shoved the towel at him. He began to dry himself.

“John, really,” she protested. “You’ve been so…distant…lately. What’s wrong?”

He wrapped the towel around his middle and stepped out of the shower. “It just looked as though you were the best person to leave him with,” he said, not looking at her. “He has to be watched, and you don’t seem to be able to take your eyes off him.”

“Very funny! Are you jealous?” She sounded incredulous.

“Me? Should I be?”

“John, I’m nearly old enough to be his mother.”

“Hmm. I was younger than he is when we took off and got married. It looks to me like you are carrying on a blatant flirtation.”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.”

John glanced at her sideways as he reached for his toothbrush. “Are you protesting too much?”

He’d disarmed her with his remark, and he watched as she studied herself in the foggy mirror. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said in a while!”

“That’s how it appears to me,” he replied. He brushed his teeth quickly and rinsed his mouth under the tap. “Do you have to hold his hand all the time?”

“I don’t hold his hand all the time!”

“Often enough.” He spit vehemently into the sink. “I walk into my office. There you are, holding his hand. I walk into the room just now, and there you are again, holding his hands—both of them!”

“I—I’m just trying to—to calm him down.”

“That kid doesn’t need calming down. He has nerves of steel. He’s playing you, Mel.”

“You’re being ridiculous! And just what’s been going on with you lately? I’ve hardly seen you. Last night was the first time we’ve made love in two weeks, maybe more. I forget. What if I thought you had a girlfriend?”

He sighed. “You know I don’t have a girlfriend. You haven’t been particularly available either. The kids take up most of your time; the paper takes up the rest.”

“You’re blaming the kids?”

“All I’m saying is a family is a unit. Every individual counts. We don’t exist for the kids; the world doesn’t revolve around them. The whole family counts. We count, too.”

“Is that what this is about—the kids?”

He jammed his toothbrush back in the holder and met her eyes for the first time since the conversation began. “We’re getting off topic. No, it’s not about the kids. It’s about you carrying on with this rock star. I’m getting pretty claustrophobic with him in the house, but I guess there’s nothing to do about it now. Look, I don’t even want to talk about it. I have a murder case. I don’t like murder cases. I don’t like strangers coming into town and wreaking havoc. I’m going in to the station.” He turned abruptly, and she followed him.

“John! We’ve got to get a grip. I have never seen you like this. For somebody who is so confident in his job, you seem to be real insecure about our marriage right now. And for no good reason! John, look at me.”

He looked up, trying to keep all his emotion under control. “I said I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m not going to talk about it, Melanie.”

“We have to!”

“Not right now we don’t. It will have to wait.”

She made a frustrated noise and whirled, stalking out of the room.

Chapter Thirteen