The Girl Who Ran Off With Daddy (29 page)

“Well, why the hell not?” he demanded.

“I have my reasons,” I said quietly, not liking a single one of them.

Slawski stared at me. “What, you think
she
the one did her?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Dude always has his reasons,” Very informed him, chewing on a fry. “And they always seem kinda whacked on the surface. It isn’t until you trip on ’em awhile, check ’em out from a million different angles, that you realize how totally whacked they really are.”

Slawski ate the last bite of his hamburger, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. He was a dainty eater for such a big man. “If I’m going to be sticking my own individual neck out, then I got to know what those reasons are. What’s on your mind?”

“Two things, Trooper. One of them has to do with Lulu.”

She immediately sat up, tail thumping eagerly.

“What about her?”

“The way she behaved that day you and I went to Barry’s house to tell everyone Thor had been murdered.”

Slawski frowned. “How did she behave?”

“The other thing has to do with something an extremely wise old man said to me not long ago.”

“Gibbs?” said Very. “What did he say?”

“I may be completely wrong about this,” I continued. “And, frankly, I hope I am. But if I’m right, our killer has all but gotten away with three brutal murders. We haven’t got much of a chance, not unless we move fast and we move smart. That means we have to have a plan when we show up to notify Clethra. Before we go, Lieutenant, there’s something you need to check out from the New York end. Something you can do that I can’t. I have to make a couple of phone calls myself. I’d like to make one of them right now.” My mouth was getting dry. I took a sip of my shake. “If we stick together we’ll have this whole case wrapped up by morning. And Munger will be left hanging in the breeze, saluting his own shadow. You’ll be the big hero, Trooper. You and the lieutenant here. What do you say?”

Slawski hesitated, scratching his square chin with a big thumb. His eyes met Very’s, then returned to mine. “I say the pay phone’s over there by the men’s room. And I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

“So do I, Trooper.”

The narrow, twisting stretch of Joshua Town Road approaching the farm was blessedly dark and deserted, almost like old times. Almost but not quite. Our timing was good, that was all. The resident press corps had gone tearing off to Essex to cover the hatchet murder of legendary feminist leader Ruth Feingold. Their lucky night.

They didn’t know yet just how lucky.

We pulled up in front of the carriage barn next to Dwayne’s truck and got out. We were one fewer. We’d dropped Very off at Slawski’s house to do his phone work. Klaus stayed in the cruiser. Klaus always stayed in the cruiser.

They were sitting down by the salt marsh where we’d left her, an oil lantern throwing light on the greasy pizza box and a dozen or more empty beer bottles that lay there in the grass. Lulu made straight for the pizza box in hopes of finding anchovies. And right away there was a flurry of movement in one of the Adirondack chairs—Clethra scrambling up out of Dwayne’s lap. She staggered to her feet, eyes bright, face wet and shiny, her clothes rumpled and partly unbuttoned. Dwayne stayed where he was, looking pretty much the same way.

“Evening, Mr. H,” he mumbled guiltily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes avoided mine.

“Good evening, Dwayne,” I said coolly.

Clethra reached for her cigarettes and lit one, straightening herself. “We were just, like,
talking
,” she whined, going indignant teenager on me. “It’s not like we were
doing
anything.”

“Ms. Feingold,” Slawski spoke up. “I’m here to inform you that your mother is dead.”

Clethra froze. “Wha … ?!”

“She was murdered earlier this evening on the grounds of your father’s residence.” Slawski took off his hat and examined the brim. “In a rather brutal fashion, I’m sorry to report.”

Clethra’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Just a gurgle.

“Fuckin’ A.” Dwayne’s voice was a hollow gasp. He looked up at her in astonishment, then ducked his head, shaking it. “Fuckin’ A,” he said softly.

“If you so desire, Ms. Feingold,” Slawski offered, “I can transport you there so that you may presently join the immediate family.”

“D-Do I have to?” she moaned.

“You may remain here if you so prefer,” Slawski assured her. “The choice is entirely your own. I am merely here to inform you of her demise and to offer you any professional courtesies of which you may choose to avail yourself.” The resident trooper stayed there a moment, grimly turning his hat in his hands. Then he put it back on his head and said goodnight. He started back up toward his cruiser without looking at me.

Clethra stayed where she was, looking blindly around at the darkness surrounding her, the cigarette between her fingers forgotten. “Like, c-could I be alone for a while?”

“Of course,” I said.

Dwayne and I trailed Slawski across the pasture.

“Guess I owe you an apology, Mr. H,” he said, tugging at his scraggly goatee.

“Now isn’t a good time, Dwayne.”

“I remembered what you said—how I shouldn’t be bustin’ a move on her or nothing. And I wasn’t, I swear. We was just chillin’ is all. And next thing I know she’s all over me. Practically tore my clothes off. I’m only human, y’know?”

“I said now isn’t a good time.”

“You pissed at me?”

I sighed wearily. “I suppose if I gave it any thought I’d be a little disappointed, but I have a lot on my mind right now.”

Slawski was leaning against his cruiser, waiting for me with his arms crossed.

“You’d better run along now, Dwayne,” I said, not unkindly.

The kid lingered, pawing uneasily at the gravel with his work boot. “You firing me?”

“No. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You got it, Mr. H,” he said gratefully. He hopped in his truck and started it up. The death metal came right on, blaring. He turned it down, waved and took off.

Slawski and I stood there watching his truck head down the drive. Then I heard the phone ring inside. I raced in the kitchen door and answered it.

It was Very. He said one word. He said, “Bingo.”

I called Merilee when I got into bed, Lulu snuggling close to me for warmth. The bedroom was chilly in spite of the fire I’d made. A storm had blown in, this one complete with lightning and thunder and cold gusts that shook the dark old house and rattled its windows.

Not that Clethra had noticed one bit of it. She hadn’t spoken a word to me the rest of the evening. Just sat there by the marsh smoking cigarette after cigarette and staring numbly out at the darkness. No doubt she would have stayed out there all night in the cold rain if I hadn’t fetched her and toweled her off and put her to bed in the chapel.

“Oh, thank God it’s you, darling!” Merilee cried when I got through to her. “Pam and I were just sitting here watching the late news when they said—”

“You’ve heard about Ruth then.”

“When will this end, Hoagy?” Merilee wondered, her voice heavy with sorrow.

“Soon, I hope.”

She was silent a moment. “You sound funny, darling.”

“Funny ha-ha?”

“Funny weird.”

“It’s this bed.”

“What about it?”

“It’s awfully cold in here.”

“That’s because you don’t have me there to keep you warm.”

“Have I told you recently I’m nuts about you? Both of you?”

“Not in ages and ages,” she answered solemnly. “And if by ‘both of you’ you’re referring to Tracy the answer is never. As in not ever. Have you been drinking tequila? You know what that does to you.”

“No, I haven’t, Merilee.”

“What about Lulu?”

“She hasn’t been drinking tequila either.”

“I meant, sir, how does
she
feel about Tracy?”

“She’s accepting the fact that she can’t go back, only forward, and that if she’ll just give Tracy a chance she’ll find her enriching her life, rather than intruding upon it.”

“Mighty complex ruminations for a gal with a brain the size of a garbanzo bean,” Merilee said tartly. “… Hoagy?”

“Yes, Merilee?”

“You’re not doing something reckless and foolhardy, are you?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It seemed to work for Very. “Of course not. Why would you say that?”

“Because I know you, that’s why. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“When can I come home? I miss my garden somethin’ arful.”

“Tomorrow, Merilee. Just …”

“Yes, darling?”

“Just don’t make it too early.”

“That’ll be perfect. They want to talk to me at ten about doing
Gilligan: The Musical
.”

“Oh, no …”

“Oh, yes.”

“Would you be Ginger or Mary Ann?”

“Actually, they’re offering me the title role.”

“But—”

“It’s a feminist interpretation, darling. I’d be Gilligan. Chita Rivera has already signed to play the Skipper. And they’re talking to the Cassidy brothers, David and Shaun, for Ginger and Mary Ann.”

“I don’t even want to know who’s going to play Thurston Howell.”

“Sandra Bernhard.”

“I told you, I didn’t want to know. Merilee, you’re not actually considering this, are you?”

“I miss the action, darling,” she confessed. “I hate to admit it, but it’s the truth. I’ve been realizing it ever since I’ve been back here. And a play is ideal. Tracy can be with me all through rehearsal, and then once our run starts I can be home with her all day. Okay, so it’s not Sondheim. But—well, it
is
a stretch.”

“That’s certainly one word for it.”

“But what am I dithering on about?” she said, shifting gears. “You don’t want to hear about my silly career right now.”

“Yes, I do. More than you can possibly imagine. Hurry home, Merilee. I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling. Goodnight.”

I hung up the phone and stared at it, my heart starting to pound.

Everything was in place. Everyone was ready. Now it was my play. A high-risk play, no question. But the only play. No question there either.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number. When I got the voice I wanted to hear I said: “I love Clethra and Clethra loves me. We’ve been sleeping together ever since Merilee went to New York. We have sex every night. Incredible sex, the best sex she’s ever had. Now that Ruth is gone there’s no one who can keep us apart. We’re running away in the morning to start a brand-new life together. You’ll never see her again. She’s mine, do you hear me? She’s
mine!
”

Then I slammed down the phone.

And lay there, tensed, watching the patterns of the fire dance on the wall of the darkened room. I lay there and waited, the rain pounding on the roof, the lightning flashing, the wind howling. I thought about Merilee and Tracy. I thought about that last conversation I’d had with Mother out in the parking lot at Exit Meadows. I thought about Father and that creak on the stairs in the night. I thought about Thor and Ruth and that kid Tyler, who got himself strangled in his dorm room for being greedy and stupid. I thought about how I was lying there alone and that I didn’t enjoy being alone as much as I used to. I thought about a lot of things. A high-risk play will do that to you. I thought about everything except sleep. Sleep was out of the question. I waited, Lulu snoring softly next to me.

It was nearly one when I heard it.

At first I wasn’t really sure I had because of the rain. But I had—the soft crunch of footsteps in the gravel driveway out by the back porch. The kitchen door opening with a squeak. I’d left it unlocked, like we always did. Someone rattling around in the kitchen. Drawers being pulled open, a cupboard door smacking shut. Footsteps. The creak of a floorboard down below in the parlor. Lulu stirred and opened one eye, a growl coming from deep in her throat. I shushed her. Reached down under the bed and hit the on switch, then dove back down under the covers, waiting … A creak on the stairs now, footsteps climbing quickly …. Stopping at the top of the stairs, hesitating, starting down the hall toward me. Arriving outside my bedroom door. Slowly, the door swung open, its hinges squeaking. They could use some WD-40. Every hinge in the house needed some after the summer. I’d have to take care of that when I had a chance … One step toward me, the floorboard groaning … Another step … Nearing the foot of the bed … Closer … Still closer …

Until I sat right up and flicked on the bedside lamp, freezing him there with the kitchen knife clutched tightly in his powerful hand.

“Greetings, Dwayne,” I said. “What took you so damned long?”

D
WAYNE STOOD THERE BLINKING
furiously at the light, his tongue flicking at his lips. He was shivering. His clothes were soaked through, his hair dripping wet, the drops plopping softly on the hooked rug at his feet.

“I had to hike through the woods to get here, Mr. H. Didn’t want nobody to hear me coming. There’s that trooper stationed down by the …” He stopped short, his eyes darting around the room in confusion. “She’s not here. Where is she?”

“In the chapel, Dwayne,” I replied, my own eyes on the knife. So were Lulu’s. “That’s where she sleeps, generally. She and I aren’t running away together, or having incredible sex, or ordinary sex, or any kind of sex at all. I’m afraid I tricked you. Had to. It was the only way I could get you to show your hand.” I sat back in the bed and crossed my arms, trying to look relaxed. Which I wasn’t. It was a big knife, ideal for chopping vegetables and assorted limbs. It was a sharp knife. I knew this. I’d sharpened it myself. “What were you planning to do when you found us here together? Kill us both?”

Dwayne shook a damp, crumpled cigarette loose from the pack in the pocket of his flannel shirt and managed to light it, tossing the match in the fireplace. “No way, man. Not Clethra. Never Clethra. I love her. More than I’ve ever loved any girl. More than I ever will. I-I was gonna show her how much. Prove it to her.”

“By killing me,” I said. “Just as you killed Thor and Tyler and Ruth.”

Dwayne fingered his stringy moustache, squinting at me over his cigarette. “By taking what I want, no matter who don’t like it. Just like Mr. Gibbs said.”