Keeping the Peace (35 page)

Automatically, he put out his left arm, and just as he unconsciously expected, Melanie was there beside him, her arm around his waist. “Nobody’s tired,” she said in an effort to explain the houseful of family and friends.

He squeezed her as he said to Cully, who was standing on the other side of the room with Mia, Emmie, Peter, and Michael, “Cully, you should go home. You need to rest now.”

“Just following up, Chief,” the young man said, flashing a brilliant smile.

Tom Dearborne, taciturn as usual, said from his chair at the kitchen table, “Glad you’re back safe, John.”

“John. John!” Juxtaposed to his father-in-law, Debbie enthusiastically threw her arms around him. “I am so very, very glad to see you! Oh, we were all beside ourselves, what with a murder and a blizzard and a rock star!” Conversation was never hard for Debbie.

“It is pretty unbelievable,” he conceded. “Everybody all fine here?”

“Everyone is fine,” his wife said. “Come sit down at the table and have some tea. We’ve all got to unwind. Where is Gabriel?”

John took his chair and leaned on the table. “I thought he’d be at the inn, but when I went there, Bill told me a limo had picked him up and taken him up to Hanover. Personally, I was irked. I thought he’d come here. I still have to ask him some questions in order to put this whole fiasco to bed.”

“He had to get to his band,” Melanie said. Debbie set a steaming cup of tea in front of both of them. “That’s what we were talking about when Seeley burst in on us. He said they always did a new song at every concert, and this concert’s song wasn’t finished yet.”

“Ah, the poor guy’s got problems, then,” John said sarcastically, making Tom’s lips curve almost into a smile.

John sipped his tea. Debbie hovered around the back of his chair, ready to help her friends should they wish the slightest thing. It was her nature.

John said to Melanie, “I have to go tell Bud Seeley about his grandson. Will you go with me?”

“Oh, my, how awful,” Debbie said with a sigh.

“Of course I’ll go,” said Melanie. “We should go tonight, shouldn’t we?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’m ready when you are,” she said.

“Let’s see what the famous Gabriel Strand has left for us, first.” He put the manila envelope on the table and opened it. Inside was a letter and a pile of badges on lanyards.

“What is it, Dad?” Mia asked, sidling up close to her father. “What does it say? Read it.”

“Shhh,” John said. Then he began to read. “Dear Chief Giamo. It sounds weak, but thank you for saving my life. Please understand that I didn’t try to avoid you after this evening’s incident. I just had to get back to my band. It’s been a week since I’ve seen them, and we have a song to complete before tomorrow night’s concert. I would like to invite you and your officers, as well as your whole family and any friends you might want to bring along to the concert. I’m enclosing backstage passes—” Here, John was interrupted by shrieks and screams of delight. Mia and Emmie were hugging each other and jumping up and down. He raised his voice and continued. “Backstage passes for everyone. Just tell them who you are. I hope I can get to see you after the show. Again, thanks for everything you did for me. I know you saved my life. It’s hard for me to think about, but as they say, the show must go on. Tell Melanie I thank her for everything, too. Gratefully, Gabe.”

“This is totally, totally awesome!” Mia said. “Backstage with Ragged Rainbow!”

“Hmm,” said her father. “I guess we’ll have to go, then.”

Melanie looked at her husband. “We should go get this over with before it gets much later.”

Debbie said, “I’m going to stay here. Jim is at the hospital all night tonight anyway, and Emmie isn’t going to leave under these circumstances, so I’m not going home alone. I’ll clean up and get everyone settled. You go do your job.” She put both arms around the two of them as they sat at the table and hugged them. Debbie’s reaction to almost any action was a hug, but because it came from her most honest of hearts, it was always appreciated.

Telling Bud that his grandson was dead was the hardest thing to do, but it went as well as they could have expected. When they had approached the man’s home, he met them at the door in his longjohns, with the pack of dogs barking and whining around his old, bent legs. He knew why they had come, and they sat with him for over an hour at the table, sipping on the syrupy coffee. He told them stories about his grandson before he had been taken away. He asked some questions involving the murder, the hostage incident, and the drowning. John answered them directly. A man like Bud Seeley demanded directness. He finally allowed Melanie to call his daughter so that he would have some family support. To Melanie’s relief, the woman sounded reasonable, promising to come down in the morning.

At the end of their visit, Bud walked them to the door. “Come back in the spring,” he said to Melanie. “I got some of them Mille Fleurs your uncle liked. I’ll give ya a hen and chicks.”

Melanie smiled though unshed tears and thanked him profusely.

Afterward, driving home, John and Melanie were silent, turning the whole dark episode over in their minds. John was the first one to speak as they came to the stop sign where the dirt road joined the main route. There were no cars coming, but he stayed stopped. The sky was beginning to lighten. He sighed. “You okay?”

Melanie shrugged. “Yeah. Sad, though, isn’t it? I feel so badly for the old man. To have had that child and raised him until he was eight years old and lose him, and then lose him again.” She shuddered. “I just don’t like to think about it.”

“You didn’t get hurt getting pulled through the ceiling or anything?”

“Oh, no. John, you should have seen our children. They were a team. They’re almost grown.” He looked over at her. He could see tears in her eyes. “They rescued me.” Now she began to really cry, softly, but her shoulders convulsed with the sobs she tried to repress.

John reached over and took his wife in his arms. They sat like that, watching the sky go from velvety purple to pale lavender with the first light of day. He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go home and get some sleep.”

She nodded and slid back into her seat. They turned south onto the main road.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I
T
W
AS
S
ATURDAY
N
IGHT
, and the Giamo entourage was backstage at the Ragged Rainbow concert in the hockey rink in Hanover, New Hampshire. Present were the Giamo family; the Cohen family, this time including the oft absent Dr. Jim Cohen; Steve Bruno and his wife; Jason Patterson; and Tim Cully. Becky Dearborne and her family had politely declined, their musical tastes seemingly incompatible with this genre.

The concert was set to start at nine, and they’d been there since seven. John had spent much of the first hour exchanging conversation with Hanover’s police chief and some of the officers on duty. Then he turned his attention to the increased activity around him. The crew was setting up the stage. John had to admit it was fascinating to watch. It was a whole segment of society he had previously known nothing about. He watched them work on their instruments. He heard the backup singers complaining about the clothes they were supposed to wear. A skinny little man was darting back and forth shouting orders at everyone he met. John noticed his children were enthralled.

Gabriel approached them. He wore skintight jeans and a black T-shirt and had his guitar slung over his shoulders. He was ready to play.

“I’m glad you came.” He smiled broadly and extended his hand to everyone. He hugged Melanie and Debbie. John watched the young man. Strand was in his element. This was his world. Melanie blushed as she returned his embrace, and John wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against him.

“This is so great, Gabe,” Mia said, reaching out with both hands to the musician. “Thank you so much for this. Thank you.” She was really being nice, thought John. She had dropped her edge. He was happy to see her transcend the teenage girl defense and give in to honest enjoyment. She even took Cully’s hand and dragged him out from behind her where he stood. “Do you know Tim Cully?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “We’ve met. Good to see you here, Tim.” No one who knew him called Cully “Tim,” except perhaps his mother. It made John smile.

“Good to see you, Gabe,” Cully said. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

The musician’s face changed then. He held the young officer’s hand in mid-shake. Perhaps he had developed a healthier respect for cops, thought John. He nodded his head vigorously. “Me, too. I’m glad too. Thank you, thank you.” There was a slightly awkward pause, and Gabriel said, “I’ve got to get going. We’re on in two minutes. Enjoy yourselves, everyone.”

The crowd was chanting. The musicians were taking their places.

“This is it,” Gabriel said as he prepared to walk on stage.

“Break a leg,” Melanie said.

Gabriel looked at her. Impulsively, he smiled, leaned over, and kissed her on the mouth. Then he walked out on stage, and the crowd noise surged.

“That took balls,” Michael said, looking at his father.

“What the hell!” Peter said indignantly. “Mom!”

“Don’t worry, guys,” said their father, who was surprisingly jovial. “I can afford it.”

“Stop talking, you guys!” Mia hissed. “They’re on.”

The show was fantastic. The music was good; the band was truly talented. Gabriel was full of energy, obviously revved by the crowd’s adoration.

Melanie stood on tiptoe and whispered in her husband’s ear. “I can smell the testosterone.”

He laughed and whispered back, “Think the Cohens will have sex tonight?”

She winked at him. “I don’t care about the Cohens, as long as we do. More of that crazy make-up sex.”

John coughed.

“Are you blushing?” Melanie whispered, laughing.

He squeezed her hand in his.

There was an intermission as the set on stage was changed. The musicians tweaked their instruments, and the backup singers shed their costumes and appeared in T-shirts and jeans.

“They always play the real music in the second half of the show,” Mia said.

“How would you know? You’ve never been to one of their shows,” retorted Peter.

“Shut up for once, Peter!” Mia hissed back as Gabriel stepped up to the mike.

The crowd immediately hushed, on edge.

“This is where we always introduce our new song,” Gabriel said. “Well, this song is special. For a special lady. I fell in love this week. I fell in love with a real lady, but it’s not to be. She’s married, and she loves her husband. Too bad for me, but she inspired me to write this song. Here it is. This song is dedicated to you, Melanie. I hope you like it.”

Backstage, Melanie looked uncomfortable. The Cohens were staring at her. Her children were staring at her. Her husband stood behind her, his big arms wrapped around her. “He’s overreacting,” she muttered to her friends.

“I think it’s wonderful!” Mia said. “Mom, Ragged Rainbow is doing a song about you. That’s huge. Listen.”

It was the wee hours of the morning. John and Melanie Giamo were climbing into bed.

“Well, what a surprise that was!” she said.

“You inspired him,” John replied, crawling under the covers of the bed, naked. He loved to be in bed first so that he could watch her undress. He never tired of it. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he knew.

She unhooked her bra and let it slip to the floor. She didn’t put on a nightgown, but slipped in beside him, naked too.

“Does this mean that we share in the royalties?” he asked.

“Ha,” she laughed. “I doubt it.”

“Well, he named the song after you. He said you were the inspiration.”

“Who knew?” she quipped.

“You did,” John said. “You knew very well, but I don’t care. You’re in bed with me.”

“And that’s right where I’ll always want to be,” she said, and then she switched off the light.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to my Omnific Team—Elizabeth Harper, Coreen, Lisa, CJ, and Kim. Once again, many thanks to Cindy Campbell who did a wonderful job of unjumbling the complicated parts of this story and smoothing out the wrinkles along the way. Thank you to Traci Olsen for holding my hand when needed and coming up with some creative marketing. Thank you, also, to my children for providing me with constant inspiration, and a special salute to Rick Cloud, chief of police in my small town.