The Girl Who Ran Off With Daddy (19 page)

“Marco was afraid to let Lulu sniff his shoes this afternoon. He even went inside and changed them. Why is that? Was he afraid she’d recognize the mud on them?”

Barry laughed, relieved. “Good heavens, no. Nothing so sinister as that. You want me to tell you why?”

“I’d rather hear it from him.”

“Marco!” he called out. “It’s Hoagy! He wants to know why you changed your shoes at the table.”

I heard Marco groan and say, “Why is that any of his fucking business?”

And Barry say, “Just tell him.”

And Marco say, “Why the fuck should I?”

And Barry say, “For me, okay? Will you do it for me?”

And Marco growl, “Christ, okay.” Before he got on the phone and said, “That was just me being paranoid, Hoagy.”

“Paranoid how, Marco?”

“We grow some marijuana down by the river, okay?” he answered testily. “Down behind the blackberry bushes, in a sunny spot where no one can see them. Nothing major. Eight or ten plants, tops. I was down there just before lunch harvesting some leaves to take back with us to the city. When your dog started getting all interested in my shoes I started wondering if maybe she was trained to sniff dope …”

“She’s not.”

“And then I looked up and saw Trooper Slawski sitting there and I freaked. He can be a genuine hard-ass—especially if he thinks you’re selling the shit.”

“Are you?”

“No! But we grow enough that, technically, they could say we do. And, Christ, they can take your
house
away for that. Anyway, I freaked. I guess it didn’t help that I was stoned off my nut at the time.”

“When did you smoke it?”

“After breakfast.”

“You and Ruth?”

“God, no!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I can’t stand being alone with her when Barry’s not around. She’s never liked me and I’ve never liked her.” He sniffled, resuming his normal voice. “I smoked it by myself in my room. Just stretched out and listened to some music until Barry and Arvy got back.”

“How long were you in there?”

“Maybe an hour.”

“What was Ruth doing?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Was she in the house?”

“She may have been. She may have been out back. I don’t know.”

“Could she have left?”

“Left?”

“Taken the rental car and gone.”

“You mean gone and bashed his head in?”

“Could she?”

I heard muffled voices. He was conferring with Barry. “I guess she could have,” he allowed after a moment. “I do crank up the stereo pretty loud.”

“Who were you listening to?”

“Miss Diana Ross, who Barry hates. I don’t know why. She’s such a survivor.”

I felt thirsty all of a sudden. Lulu’s anchovies. I filled a glass with cold well water from the tap and drank some. “How are you feeling these days, Marco?”

“Feeling?” An edge crept into his voice. “Why?”

“No reason. Barry told me you’ve been—”

“Fuck what Barry told you,” he snarled. “I’m fine, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m
fine
.”

“Do you smoke a lot of dope?”

“Why not?” he replied defensively. “It helps keep me even.”

“Does Barry smoke, too?”

“He likes his drinks more. What the hell does this have to do with—?”

“Ever smoke any of that illy?”

“Not a chance. I’m trying to stay pure and clean. That’s why I grow my own. Illy’s got poison in it. Besides which, it makes you mean. And that’s not where I want to be anymore. That’s the last place in the world I want to be.” He was getting impatient. “Anything else?”

“Not a thing, Marco. Could you please put Barry back on?” When he did I said, “How’s Arvin doing?”

“He seems terribly lost,” Barry replied heavily. “Not that he’s cried. He hasn’t shed one tear. Just sits there on the sofa like a resolute little soldier. I wish I could say something to him, but what on earth is there to say?”

Not a thing, except our goodbyes.

Once again, I left the phone off the hook.

Clethra was still staring at the TV when I went up to bed. She’d moved on to
F Troop.
Everyone grieves in their own way. Hers was to watch Larry Storch. As good a way as any, I suppose.

“You might be more comfortable in the guest room tonight,” I offered. “You’re welcome to move inside.”

“I’ll stay out in our room” was all she said, her voice wooden and far away. Her eyes never left the screen.

“Suit yourself. Goodnight.”

I built a fire in the bedroom fireplace. Got into the soft white cotton broadcloth nightshirt from Turnbull and Asser. Climbed into bed with Lulu and Ring Lardner, who is someone I re-read every couple of years just to remind myself what good writing is. But I didn’t read and I sure as hell didn’t sleep. I had too much on my mind. Like who had killed Thor. Munger was going with the gang from Slim Jim’s. Me, I agreed with Slawski—I doubted Kirk and those other chowderheads were involved. Unless, that is, they’d gotten high on illy and decided to get even. It certainly wouldn’t have been hard to find out where I lived. Anyone in town could tell them. Only, it still didn’t play. Say they had done it—why Bobbitt Thor? Why leave him—and it—there in the duck pond? Why not bury him—and it—way off in the woods somewhere, never to be found? I wondered. There was so much to wonder about.

Thor’s murder had been a violent one. It would take someone strong to smash in his head. A good-sized woman could swing that six-pound sledge. Merilee could, for instance. But to load him into the garden cart, chain him to that wagon wheel, shove him into the water … no one small could have done that. Ruth couldn’t have done it. At least, not alone she couldn’t. But what if she had help? What if Marco helped her? What if the two of them killed Thor together while Barry and Arvin were gone? Marco was certainly strong enough and volatile enough. Then again, maybe it was Barry who’d helped her. Maybe that whole story about meeting his ex-lover in Essex was baloney. Maybe he and Ruth had banded together to save their young, helpless daughter from Thor’s evil clutches. Or maybe Barry had acted alone. Or maybe Marco had. Or maybe Barry and Marco had acted together. Neither of them had much to lose, to be blunt about it …
“Don’t let them take me away, Bucky!”
… Or maybe the two of them
and
Ruth had been in on it together. So many possibilities. And so little I knew for certain.

Except that whoever had murdered Thor Gibbs had hated him something fierce.

I lay there gazing at the fire and thinking about him. He’d never answered me. Never told me why he’d run off with his own stepdaughter. What had he been trying to do—hang on to his youth? Piss off the world? Cause a stir? Or was he genuinely in love with the girl? If so, why hadn’t he touched her? How could he be so cruel to Ruth and to Arvin? He hadn’t explained. Wouldn’t explain. All he’d said was that I wouldn’t understand—not for another thirty years. But I could think about it. Hell, yes, I could think about it.

I lay there thinking long past midnight, the fire crackling, Lulu snoring contentedly on my head. Until finally I slept.

It was past two when Lulu woke me, growling softly. Something had awakened her. Something she didn’t like. The glowing embers and the moon outside the windows threw an eerie half-light over the room. But I saw nothing. And I heard nothing. I shushed her and listened harder. And then I heard it—a creak on the stairs. Footsteps. Someone coming up. Someone inching down the hall toward us … Nearer … Pausing outside the bedroom door … Slooowly, it opened. A figure started across the room toward the bed. A figure clutching something shiny and sinister in one hand, gripping it overhead like a weapon …

I flicked on the light.

It was Clethra. And the weapon was a claw hammer. Only the light startled her so much she dropped it. “Oh, shit!” she cried, as it crashed to the floor. “Did I wake you? I’m so fucking sorry.” She stood there, wide-eyed and shivering. She had on a T-shirt and nothing else.

Lulu bared her teeth, snarling. I told her to behave herself.

“What’s with the hammer, Clethra? Planning to install some drywall?”

“I-I was just so scared.” She was breathless, her teeth chattering. “I had this nightmare—that the killer was right outside the chapel. That he came back for
me.
And I was just … I felt so alone. I-I’m sorry I woke you. I just got so
scared
.” She sounded like a frightened little girl. She
was
a frightened little girl.

“There’s no need to be. A trooper’s at the foot of the drive.”

“I know that. I do. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” She stayed there at the foot of the bed, trembling.

There was an extra blanket over my feet. “Here, put this around you.”

“Could I get in there with you, Hoagy?” she blurted out. “For a little while? Please? I just need to …” She let out a jagged sob. “I j-just need to
be
with somebody.”

It was pretty much Lulu’s call. She considered it a moment, weighing if this chilled, semi-naked semi-celebrity was any threat to her unhappy home. She stirred and had herself a leisurely stretch. Then she moved over to the rocker by the fireplace and curled up in it with a grunt. When push comes to shove she has a pretty good heart. Just don’t ever tell her I said that.

Clethra dove in gratefully. “Oooh, it’s so nice and warm in here,” she gasped, burrowing in. Her feet were two blocks of frozen hamburger.

I reached over and turned off the light. She turned on her side, facing me. I could see tears on her cheeks in the moonlight. And I could smell her. She smelled of the Crab-tree and Evelyn avocado oil bath gel Merilee kept in the guest bath. She inched closer to me, hesitant but insistent. I sighed inwardly and raised my arm. She immediately snuggled under it with her head on my chest. Then she broke down. I held her while she cried, stroking her hair, feeling the scented warmth of her there. I held her until she grew still and silent, our chaperone watching us carefully from the chair.

“Hoagy?” she whispered, after a long while.

“Yes?” I whispered back. I don’t know why. We were alone in the house. At least I sincerely hoped we were.

“I miss him.”

“I do, too.”

“There’s nobody in the whole wide world I can trust now. Not one person.”

“There’s Arvin.”

“I meant a grown-up.” She raised her head, her eyes searching my face. “There’s
you
.”

“I thought you said a grown-up.”

Her breath caught. She needed the words.

“There’s me,” I assured her. “And there’s Merilee.”

“I like her.”

“So do I.”

“You guys really have it all together, y’know?”

“You must be thinking of another couple.” I knuckled my eyes, yawning. “There’s Ruth,” I suggested.

“No way.” She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t ever trust her. Not after this.”

“You really think she had something to do with his death?”

“She
caused
it, Hoagy. By hating him so much. By hating
us
so much.”

“What about Barry?”

“What about him? Like, he’s never been for me. Not ever.”

“Has Marco?”

She reacted with surprise. “Marco?”

“Are you and he at all close?”

“Like, why would we be?”

“No reason. I just wondered.”

“Hoagy, is it okay if I stay out here for a while? I don’t want to go back to her.”

“Stay here as long as you like.”

“Even though I’m, like, an annoying little brat?”

“Even though you’re, like, an annoying little brat.”

She let out a giggle. “You weren’t supposed to agree with me.”

“My mistake. Sorry.”

“Will you still help me with my book?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

Slowly, I became aware that she wasn’t lying completely still anymore. She was a living, breathing girl, her body warm and pliant against mine, stretching, arching … Her hand was on my stomach. My hand was on her round, firm hip. And she had nothing on under that shirt. And all I had to do was pull her over on top of me and …

“What are you doing, Clethra?”

“Nothing,” she insisted.

“Well, stop doing nothing.”

She lay still. From the chair I could hear Lulu snoring softly. Some goddamned chaperone.

“Did you and Arvin stay at Debbie’s Diner that whole time?”

“Well, yeah. Barry only left us there for maybe an hour.”

An hour. Was that enough time for Barry to get to the farm and do Thor and get back? Was an hour enough time to kill? “You didn’t go anywhere else?”

“Like, how could we? We didn’t have a car.”

“That’s right, you didn’t. And how long did you have to wait for us by yourself after Barry came back for him?”

“Maybe half an hour.”

“What did you do?”

“Um, I went to the ladies’ room, did some magazine grazing at the drugstore … Shit, I don’t remember. Why?”

“Just curious,” I said, thinking she sounded vague and evasive. Or was that just my imagination?

“Geez, you don’t think I killed Thor, do you?”

“I don’t know what to think, Clethra.”

We were silent then, her chest rising and falling more evenly as she started to drop off. But as soon as she did she let out a startled yelp and was awake again, remembering it all. “Hoagy, if I tell you something will you promise not to hate me?”

“I promise.”

She sniffled. “Mom never beat me and Arvy. Not really. I-I just said that to piss her off. Kind of a shitty thing to do, I guess.”

“Kind of.”

“I’m sorry, Hoagy.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

“I know. But I’m still sorry.” Her eyes were searching my face again. “It hurts, Hoagy. It really, really hurts.”

“I know it does, Clethra. And it’s going to keep hurting for a long, long time. But eventually you won’t feel it anymore. In fact, you won’t feel anything at all.”

“What do they call that?”

“Being middle-aged.”

“Sounds a lot like being dead.”

“It’s very similar, except it doesn’t last as long.”

“Hoagy?” she said drowsily.

“Yes, Clethra?”

“You take some getting used to.”

“So do you.”

She held her face up to mine. “G’night, homes.”