Mom Zone Mysteries 02 Staying Home Is a Killer (22 page)

“Yes. But you’ve solved it very neatly.” He smiled. “There’s nothing to do now but tell the truth.” He said the last sentence loudly enough so that Bree could hear us as could a few other people, including Chelsea O’Mara.

As Chelsea’s sharp gaze focused on Aaron, I slipped back into the gallery and melded with another group.

“But the marbles
belong
in Greece,” said a woman to my right as she leaned forward to emphasize her point, tottered for a second, and then swept upright.

I smiled, intelligently, I hoped, as I tried to figure out what they were talking about. Games? Home decorating?

A stout man across the circle said, “Like there would be anything left of them, if the Brits hadn’t carted them off to England.”

The woman swished a languid hand heavy with sparkly rings through the air, brushing away the argument. “You’re so basic, Harry. Yes, the British preserved and cared for the Elgin Marbles, but that’s all the more reason to return the antiquities to the country of origin.” The woman smiled blearily, enjoying the debate.

But Harry’s face turned red, reminding me of Livvy. I’d seen that exact shade right before one of her crying bouts. He said, “They’d have destroyed them!”

I hadn’t noticed Victor Roth was part of the circle until he put a restraining hand on Harry’s shoulder. “What Harry means, Allison, is that the local people didn’t appreciate the innate beauty of the antiquities or care for them properly.” His sharp white teeth flashed when he smiled. “Why should we return these works of art to states that may not appreciate them for their history or magnificence, but merely see them as a way to attract tourists to their countries? And there’s the added danger that Greece would again ignore their care and protection.”

Allison’s droopy hand landed on Victor’s arm. “You are so sure you’re right, you don’t even listen to me.” Allison looked up into Victor’s face, teetered on her spike heels, and then tightened her grip.

An older woman across the circle spoke carefully with a slight trace of an accent as she said, “On the contrary, some countries do appreciate their exquisite works of art and handle them with the greatest care.” A scarf framed her light brown face. Her dark stare seemed to bore into me as she said, “Turkey appreciates her history. Anyone who would try to keep something that belongs to Turkey, to the people of Turkey, would be a thief.”

I shifted uneasily. Her words were directed specifically to me. What was she talking about? Her dark gaze simmered with anger. I opened my mouth, stretching for a reply, but Victor, once again, stepped into the breach. “Elaina, you are right, of course.” Allison hovered on his arm, gazing up at him with glassy eyes. While his tone had been playful with Allison, he was serious, almost respectful, to this Elaina. “Turkey has recognized the vast importance of preserving and regaining its antiquities. I hope your country realizes what an eloquent and beautiful asset you are to it.”

Even Elaina’s anger cooled under Victor’s charming speech. “You are most kind, but I am merely a diplomat’s wife, speaking for myself.”

At a tap on my shoulder, I turned to find Abby standing behind me. “How’s it going? Can we get out of here? My feet are killing me.”

“Sure.” I didn’t know what else I could find out here and I wanted to think about what the diplomat’s wife, Elaina, was trying to tell me in the middle of cocktail chitchat.

“Let’s go by the ladies’ room first so I can rest my feet for a few minutes before we head to the parking garage.”

“Sounds good to me.” Now that I had time to think about it, it felt like the tips of my shoes were forcing my toes to grow together. We collapsed on a padded bench in the foyer of the ladies’ room and kicked off our shoes.

I rubbed my foot and described the scene with Elaina.

“Strange,” she said as she put her shoes back on. “Let me go to the bathroom and then let’s go. I’m beat.”

She headed around the wall to the bathroom. The door whooshed open and Elaina walked in. She didn’t look surprised to see me. She quickly checked her reflection in the mirror and then took a seat beside me.

“You must return to Turkey what belongs to Turkey.”

“I don’t know—”

She ignored me. “There will not be any questions. You simply give it to us. That will be the end.”

“What? Give what to you? I don’t have anything that belongs to Turkey.”

This time she examined my face carefully, then tilted her head to one side, considering.

“Then you have a problem.” She briskly pulled on her gloves and stood up. Small black oval-shaped beads edged the wrists of her gloves and caught the light as she fastened the top button on her coat. “I do not know you, but I believe you, looking at your face. But others, they will not.”

“Not what? Not believe me?”

The door whooshed again and three women entered. Elaina quickly leaned down and pretended to adjust her shoe. She walked away. She didn’t glance at me again.

The next morning I rolled over to Mitch’s side of the bed and turned off the alarm. I listened for a moment, but didn’t hear Livvy. For once she wasn’t awake before me. Of course, the one day Livvy didn’t wake me up calling, “Moommmmyyy!” was the day I’d set the alarm to get up early. I slumped back into the pillows for a few more minutes, automatically reaching for an extra pillow to drag over to Mitch’s side, but then I realized I didn’t need to move any pillows. They were still stacked, like I liked them, two-deep with an angle to snuggle into. I sighed and burrowed deeper. Mitch hated my pillow pile, as he called it. He’d always toss any extra pillows off his side before he went to sleep. I punched the pillow and rolled over again. It was the little things like pillows and seeing the empty hook where his keys usually hung that reinforced the loneliness. I concentrated on deep breaths, hoping a steady, relaxing breathing rhythm would help me drift off to sleep.

But a few minutes later, I realized I was studying the pile of clothes I’d left on the closet floor. My little black dress needed to go to the cleaners and my abandoned heels rested under the collapsed spirals of my hose. Thank goodness, I didn’t have to wear those every day. Being a stay-at-home mom had definite advantages, dress code being one of the best. The hours, now, that was a different story. Talk about always being on call.

As the growing light revealed more of the room, I looked around and realized I needed to clean up. I had a tendency to let things like cleaning and cooking go when Mitch was gone. Other wives had told me they did the same things. I smiled when I remembered one friend’s comment about gearing up for her husband to come home. “I’ve got to go home and clean,” she’d said. “The house is a pit right now.”

Ours might not officially qualify as a pit, but dusting and doing some laundry wouldn’t hurt.

The telephone rang and I lunged across the bed to grab it before a second ring.

“Hello.”

“Hi, hope I didn’t wake you,” Mitch said. His words echoed down the phone line, sounding like he was genuinely calling from the other side of the world.

“No. I’m awake.”

We both said, “How are you?” at the same time and then waited as our words traveled over the lines. Then we both paused again.

“I’m fine,” I said. It came right on top of his comment: “We’re here. I’m a little tired.”

I hated international calls. The two-second delay made it hard not to talk on top of each other.

I paused, waiting to see if he’d say anything else, then said, “I saw on the news that you’re helping with the Osan thing.”

His laugh echoed down the tinny line. “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he joked.

“Yeah. I know.”

After silence filled the line, he said, “How’s everything going?”

“Okay. How much time do you have to talk?”

“Not long. Just wanted to let you know we made it.”

“How long are you going to be there? Any idea on that?”

“Haven’t heard anything. Watch the news. You’ll know when we’re coming home before we do.”

I wanted to tell him what was going on, but a thread of restraint held me back. He was so far away. He wouldn’t be able to help. He’d only feel frustrated and worried. Instead I asked, “So what have you been doing?”

“Not much. The usual—eat, sleep, fly, wait. Wait some more. Make phone calls. I tried you earlier, but the call didn’t go through so I tried my parents. I wanted to check on Mom.”

“What’s up? Did you fill her in on your deployment?”

“Yeah, but I really wanted to see how she was doing. She was pretty upset about Summer last week.”

“They’re always upset about Summer. What did she do, change her major again?” Mitch’s flighty sister kept his parents guessing.

“No. She dropped out. Says she’s going to become a hairstylist.”

“Oh. I bet that went over well.”

Mitch avoided that comment. He only said, “She’ll figure it out.”

“I know. If anyone does what they want, it’s Summer. I only hope your parents can handle it.” I switched the topic back to him as I asked, “So what are you doing today?”

“They’re setting up a market for us. We can’t go off base, but they’re bringing stuff in. Want another carpet? They’ve got some small prayer carpets, silk on silk, about three feet by two feet, that are nice.”

“No. I don’t really want another carpet. What would we do with one that small? I wouldn’t want us to use it to wipe our feet on. They’re expensive, I bet.”

“Yeah. We could frame it, like the one in the Hole.”

“I did see that one. So how much are they?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll find out today. Probably a few hundred.”

“Okay. Well, whatever you think. You always bring back good stuff.” I glanced down at the gold, red, and brown carpet, the perfect complement to our dark bedroom furniture. The silence stretched for a few moments. Oh, who cared if Mitch couldn’t do anything to help me? We always tried to be honest with each other. Well, except for that one time when I knew he wouldn’t even listen to my worries about Jeff. But that was over and resolved. I needed to talk to him. “Mitch, there’s been some strange things going on around here.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “Mitch?”

I realized my words weren’t echoing back at me. “Mitch?”

When there wasn’t an answer, I hung up the phone and rolled out of bed. He’d call back as soon as he could get another line, so I didn’t want to get in the shower and miss his call. I slipped on sweats and padded down the hall.

Sometimes calls from Mitch were more frustrating than encouraging.

“Hi, Rex,” I whispered as I entered the kitchen. “Be a good boy and keep quiet to let Livvy sleep.” I leaned down and grabbed the kennel door to open it, but it swung open when I touched it.

“Rex?” The kennel was empty except for the blanket Rex slept on. I looked around the kennel, then the kitchen. No Rex. I moved quickly through the living and dining room, but didn’t see him. I knew he wasn’t in Livvy’s room because I’d checked on her when I returned last night. I hurried to the window in my room that overlooked the backyard. I’d told the babysitter to let Rex inside, but what if she’d forgotten? And I’d forgotten him, too.

I twisted the dowel for the miniblinds and scanned the backyard. Small hollows, Rex’s footprints, littered the snow, but there was no large, black dog.

Chapter Twenty-one

“I
’m sorry, Mrs. Avery,” said Kelly’s anguished voice. “I forgot about Rex. I was having so much fun with Livvy that I completely forgot. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t feel too bad. I forgot about him myself.”

When I got home the night before, I’d paid Kelly and asked her to return later in the week. I’d checked on Livvy, and then waved to Kelly’s mom as she drove her daughter away, assuming Rex was tucked in his kennel, just like Livvy. I’d been so sleepy I’d dropped into bed myself without checking on Rex. Now I realized that when I walked in the door last night I hadn’t heard any barking. Rex always barked.

I slipped on my boots, grabbed a coat, and stepped outside. I folded the lapels of my long wool coat across my chest to keep out the frigid wind. Cold drips from the thawing tree branches plopped on my head as I walked the perimeter of the yard. Even in the growing light, the snow’s whiteness seemed to sting my eyes. In the crevices near the fence I tried to distinguish between slush, mud, and bits of dried grass in the areas where Rex’s paws had pushed through to the ground. Nothing along the fence line. I reached the farthest corner by the shed and paused, scanning the ground again. A cold dollop hit the exposed skin on the back of my neck and I shivered. I took a step back to the house, but then I saw a small red drop in the snow near the shed. I walked closer. The small bright red trail spotted the snow at regular intervals around the shed and stopped at the curb. I looked back over the yard. No more drops. And where was the tether? Without the hook from the tether weighing it down, the string between the maple trees bobbed slightly in the breeze. I swallowed hard and retreated to the kitchen.

A soft rustling sound came from down the hall. I hurried into the bathroom and showered under steaming water. If I hurried, I could get out of the shower before Livvy was fully awake. I let the water pound on my neck and shoulders for a few extra seconds and allowed the awful thought to rise to the surface of my mind. Someone had unhooked the tether from the string and taken Rex. The trail of blood didn’t make things look good. Surely, whoever had taken him wouldn’t hurt him. But there were some sick people in this world. I felt a little nauseated as I turned the water off and focused on getting dressed.

I pulled on a blue turtleneck sweater, jeans, and thick socks. I blasted the blow-dryer over my hair for a few minutes. When I clicked it off, Livvy’s voice floated down the hall, “Moooommy!”

I got Livvy dressed and fed us granola. Out of habit, I opened the plastic tub of dog food and then felt a sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. It was bad enough when Rex managed to slip off his tether and get out of the yard on his own. The thought that he might get hit by a car was terrible, but this was worse. He’d been taken intentionally. I scooped up the kibble and dumped it in the bowl, a gesture that made me feel a little better. For good measure, I filled his water bowl to the brim, too. I checked the animal control number in the phone book and dialed. Closed Sundays.