Old Chaos (9781564747136) (38 page)

“Sheriff McCormick, have you given any thought as to who will replace Commissioner Bjork?”

No, but I’ll bet you have. Beth almost said that. She responded with odious piety to the effect that it was way too early to think of replacements. She hoped that didn’t make Madeline angry. They would surely hold another special election. She hoped
she
didn’t have to choose the new candidate. On the other hand…

As she made her slow way back to her office, leaning heavily on the walker, she turned the question over in her mind. She found Rob, Karl Tergeson, and a wild-eyed Hank Auclare waiting for her.

Ramona said, “I thought it was best to put them in there. Shall I bring coffee?”

“Bless you,” Beth said rather faintly. She hadn’t dared to ask Ramona for coffee for herself. “Uh, are there enough chairs?”

“Rob doesn’t want to sit.” Ramona bustled off.

As Beth entered the office both commissioners stood, Karl shakily.

Rob was standing by the window. He turned. “How did it go?”

“Well enough.”

“No thanks to me,” Rob said ruefully.

“I didn’t say that.” She smiled at him. “Ellen had to leave.” She turned to Karl, balanced on her good leg, and held out both hands. “My dear, I am so sorry.”

Karl took her hands, tears in his eyes. “Thank you. I hung up on you, Beth. I wasn’t…I didn’t…”

“It’s all right, Karl.” She edged the walker over to her chair and sat with a thud.

“Unanswerable questions?” Rob again.

“Lots. I no-commented extensively.”

Rob smiled.

“You have to talk Karl out of it,” Hank wailed, coming out of nowhere. “He wants to resign!”

Beth shut her eyes.

Karl said, “I have to resign. My little girl…”

Karl’s resignation was going to look like an admission of guilt. All of them knew that. None of them said it. And Hank was not a stalwart personality. If the Board were besieged he’d surrender at the first boom of the cannon. Then they’d have to replace all three commissioners.

Wait a minute, Beth thought. Is this a bad thing or a good thing?

With suspicious timing, Ramona came in at that point and even volunteered to pour. Beth let her. She didn’t have the strength to lift the coffeepot herself.

When Meg came through the kitchen door at six-thirty Rob was already there. A bottle of Laphroaig reposed on the table, two New York-cut steaks marinated in a plastic bag beside a heap of thawing chanterelle mushrooms, and the aroma of baking potatoes reminded her that she had skipped lunch.

She plunked her bookbag, briefcase, and purse on the nearest chair and clasped her hands soulfully. “You’re fixing your Meal!”

He gave her a sidelong grin. Rob wasn’t a bad cook, but he had only one menu designed to impress the unwary. He had fixed it the first time he cooked for her. He turned back to the oakleaf lettuce he was washing.

“Where did you get the booze?” Her search for Red Label the night before had been fruitless. “Ah, you took Beth home and popped in for supplies while you were at it.”

“It’s useful to have two pantries.” He began blotting the greens dry on a clean dish towel, at least she hoped it was clean.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Bridge building. Fence mending.”

“Ah. Well, it’s Charlie you ought to be cooking for.”

“First fences first. Besides, Charlie’s teaching tonight.”

“So he is.” She grabbed her belongings and took them to her office. She had forty-two e-mail messages, thirty of them spam and one a nice long letter from Lucy. She saved that one and whisked into the bathroom. When she had scrubbed her hands and tidied her short curls she looked at herself. Am I ready for this? No.

She stalked to the kitchen. “About your cousin—”

“I know. Charlie’s a good kid.”

“Charlie is a good man.”

A pause. “Yes, he is.” The Laphroaig had disappeared, probably into the drinks cabinet. They tended to treat it like brandy. He poured two glasses of local pinot noir and handed one to her.

She sat. “Guess who came to the library this afternoon?”

“No idea.” He saluted with his wine glass and took a sip.

“Dede Marquez and daughter.”

“No kidding. How’s Kayla?” He set out a plate of table water crackers and Brie.

“Bruised and bored but unbowed.” She slathered a cracker with Brie, ate it, and began to feel more civilized. “You know how it is at the library at that time of day.”

“Schoolkids doing homework and hanging out, mothers with toddlers, tourists wanting to use the Wi-Fi, unemployed guys reading the help-wanted ads, retired gents whose wives kick them out of the house—”

“It’s a circus. I was at the Information desk when Dede and Kayla entered. One of the teenagers spotted them and shouted, ‘Hey, it’s Kayla,’ and the next thing I knew they were all applauding, even my staff, even little tots.” She waved another laden cracker.

“No kidding?”

“They just stood there and clapped. Kayla turned bright red, and Dede started crying.
I
was crying.” She sniffed, remembering. “I hustled them into my office before Kayla died of embarrassment, and some kind soul, not Marybeth, brought coffee.”

Rob sighed. “Kayla ought to run for county commissioner.”

Meg stared at him, eyes narrowed. Of
course
someone would have to replace Cate Bjork. “Why not? She’s a hero.”

“She is.” Rob smiled. “She’ll have to contend with my candidate, though.”

“Who?”

“Bat Quinn. The search and rescue guy.”

“Why not Jack Redfern?”

“A good idea if Jack wouldn’t die laughing first. One politician per family, Meg.”

“Must be a local custom.” She thought he was probably right.

“So what did you talk about?”

“Kayla didn’t say anything. Dede and I talked about Cate Bjork.”

He frowned over another sip of wine.

“Cate was on Dede’s mind. They were good friends once.”

“Maybe Prentiss should interview her.” He sounded indifferent.

Meg fired up. “Dede may have a strange angle on things, but she’s an observant woman.”

“Sorry. I don’t doubt it. I shy away from thinking about the late commissioner at all. I don’t even want to consider Ed Prentiss’s state of mind.”

Meg touched his hand, she couldn’t help it. She said carefully, “According to Dede, Cate was a perfectionist, obsessed with her image of herself, but she wasn’t particularly greedy.”

He nodded. “The pre-nuptial settlement she got was modest relative to his wealth.”

“Sounds like a lot to me, but I suppose you’re right.” Meg cocked her head. “Even though Lars Bjork’s family gave her a bad time, she took pride in her impeccable public conduct. And she loved him. At least that’s what Dede said. You know, Cate wasn’t a wide-eyed, silicon-enhanced starlet. She was a smart woman in her thirties with a sad history. She was grateful to Lars for rescuing her and determined to be a perfect companion. What she couldn’t stand was betrayal.”

“Unlucky in love,” Rob mused.

“In a sense her first husband betrayed her. Dede said she was still bitter about that.”

Rob was listening, eyes dark and intent. “If Fred and Lars betrayed her by their manipulation of the geological surveys—”

“The mudslide was the betrayal,” Meg interposed.

“Dede said that?”

“Nope. I did. None of them believed the slide was going to happen. But I’ll bet Cate wasn’t the one who persuaded Inger to switch the reports.”

“I agree with you.” Rob got up and started to tear lettuce into the salad bowls. “There’s no way to prove it.”

“Except by talking to Lars.”

Rob shook his head. “He’s beyond that.”

“Not all the time. Long-term memory fades in and out.”

“I can try.” He chopped a green onion,
whack, whack, whack
. “Not that it will do any good.”

“It might ease your mind.”

He chopped a radish and sprinkled the thin slices into the bowl. Then he turned up the heat under a pot and came back to the table. “You said the mudslide was the betrayal.”

“She had just been elected as a green candidate when it happened.”

“Maybe Fred and Inger threatened to come clean.”

“Fred wouldn’t have. I can believe it of Inger, from what you’ve said of her.”

He told her what he knew of the letter that had been found in Inger’s track suit. “It’s consistent with what I know of Inger’s character. She intended to confess, but she had to let Cate know she was going to admit to her role in the disaster.”

“But Cate didn’t wait to hear about it.”

“Or read about it. Both killings were swift and ruthless.”

“Anger,” Meg said.

“Anger and impatience.” He looked thoughtful. “Jack thinks Cate was edgy and impatient when she shoved Lars out of the car. It’s a little hard to reconcile that with what Dede said about her loving her husband.”

“She loved him before he betrayed her.”

“Whew,” Rob said. “I’m getting indigestion. Ready for steak?”

“Ready for chanterelles.”

“Christ, I forgot them.” He dolloped butter into her omelette pan, turned the steaming pot on the stove off and the pan on, and began sautéing. Timing was all.

Meg got up and set the table. He’d forgotten that, too. She thought she’d probably forgive him.

Charlie called Kayla at 9:50, right after class. “Are you all right?”

Kayla leaned back on the soft heap of pillows and closed her eye. “I’m just fine. You’re never going to believe what happened today.” She told him all about the library incident, clowning, and he laughed.

“Did they ask for autographs?”

“One did. This little girl with long braids and braces. She wants to be a nurse.”

“I hope you signed. You’re one hell of a good example.”

She felt herself blushing all over. “Do you really think so?”

“You know I do.”

Something unknotted at the back of her neck. “Will you take me back to the hospital in the morning?”

“If you can be ready at six.” He had a nine o’clock lab.

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Thank you, Charlie. How did your class go?”

“Nobody asked for my autograph, but it was okay. I may take that teaching job at Portland State. It’s temporary, but I want to look around for a while anyway, think things over.”

“Me, too,” she said softly. “Me, too.” She wondered if she could work with children. She hadn’t done much with pediatrics….

Rob got to his office fairly early the next day in spite of a languorous good time the night before. He’d walked to work and even had a brief conversation with Towser on his way. Tammy Brandstetter was walking the dog herself these days and looking all the better for it. Maybe he and Meg needed a dog. No, what they needed was matrimony.

Meg knew when to push and when not to. He supposed he would have to learn that from her, too. Now was not the time to push. He knew that much, but Beth was going to move out of his house within the next week. He would have to make decisions.

When he saw the heap of papers in his in-box he almost turned around and walked out, and there was twice as much on the computer. Any investigation generates paper. He had the mudslide and those deaths, his abortive investigation of the missing hazard warning, the deaths of Fred Drinkwater and Inger Swets, his own mugging, and now the death of Catherine Bjork and the search for Lars. Whoever took over Inger’s job would be occupied sorting and securing the records at least until the special election.