The Widow's Walk (17 page)

Chapter 25

Mike hadn’t had a hangover since Mary died. He swallowed two aspirins, expired since 2005 but, like him, they might have a spark left. After a fresh start, he was now in danger of going stale, dormant again. He couldn’t face a whole day in this desolate house to ruminate about it, but he certainly wasn’t ready to face Liz.

Kevin came into the kitchen and rubbed his arms. “‘Tis been a cold, cold winter. I’ll be happy to see it end.”

A metaphor for life. “What did Mae say?”

Kevin’s face blanched. “There were visitations. From Jared and Elizabeth They faced off.”

Mike shuddered despite the heat seeping out of baseboard vents. “Jared, too?”

“Aye, and angry. Mae wants me to stay with her in the guest room tonight.” Worry lines graced the face of a man who never worried.

“Liz said she’s seen him before.” While he’d been drinking, Jared had been haunting.

“What did that Kensington woman say about this?”

The mention of Sandra’s name peeled the scab off another layer of guilt. “That the ghosts are trapped in moments of time that held great significance, either bad or good.”

Kevin frowned, nodded. “Well, for this crew it would have to be bad. They had to be absolutely miserable for the last years of their lives.”

Mike was absolutely miserable right now. “Let’s go to the diner. They say tomato juice is good for hangovers.” He owed Kevin breakfast, at the least.

“Don’t get hooked on that whiskey now. Never solved nothin’.”

He followed Kevin to his car. “I’m not a drinker. That was good going down, though. Aged and mellow, like I used to be.”

Kevin pulled into the diner parking lot. Mike lingered, stuck somewhere between the past and present.

“Are ya comin’ in? Ya look like yer whale watchin’ off P-town.” Kevin got out. Cold air surged in.

Mike dragged himself into the diner. “I’ll talk to Liz when we get back. Maybe last night will convince her to come with me.” Truth was, he’d rather be alone.

“Mornin’ Sylvia.” Kevin slid onto a stool at the counter. “Two eggs over easy, sausage on the side, white toast, butter, jelly. Tea.” He turned to Mike and grinned. “Mae wouldn’t approve.”

“Same for me, Syl. With a big glass of tomato juice.” He whispered aside to Kevin. “I don’t care what Liz approves of right now.”

Kevin frowned. “You’ve a right to be angry, but that won’t solve the problem.”

“True.” Rage bubbled like boiling water inside, scalding and blanching everything it sloshed over. He needed to let off steam, like a radiator relief valve, or he’d blow.

Sylvia plunked down the plates filled with food, cups, a tiny saucer of lemon wedges, a water glass of tomato juice, little jelly packets and pats of butter dewy with the moisture of melting ice. They dug in, fortifying themselves for the biting wind, the gale of discontent swirling and battering them all.

Mike paid the bill.

Kevin stepped into the entryway to answer a call. Face ashen, the cell phone at his ear, his mouth gaped in shock. “Are ya sure? Calm down, we’ll be right home.” He turned to Mike. “Liz is gone. Took Eddie, the BMW, and left while Mae grabbed a nap.”

Kevin bolted, making it to the driver’s seat and turning the key before Mike could respond. Mike jumped into the car after it started to move. His heart pounded. Where could she have gone? To the mall? Maybe the baby was sick and she took him to the pediatrician.

Dread gurgled in him. In her paranoid, irrational state of mind, Liz was capable of anything. The back of his neck prickled. Liz wouldn’t hurt Eddie, but one of her impulsive stunts might go wrong and . . .

Kevin took the turn into the drive on two wheels. Mae paced the porch, sobbing. “I was so tired, just laid down for a little while. How did she get out of here that fast? Couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

“Mae, you can’t attach yourself to her 24-7. It’s not yer fault.” Kevin embraced her, but she pushed him away.

“That’s what you said the last time.” Katherine broke through Mae’s damaged armor.

Kevin got his arms around her, and she quieted.

A spiral of fear, a terrible
déjà vu
swirled around Mike. “Where is the note?”

“She left three. Probably all say the same thing, with a bit of a personal touch.” Mae led them inside. “Left mine on the pillow right next to me. Yours is on the bed in yer, her, room. Kevin, yours is on the kitchen table.”

Mike ran upstairs and tore open the pale yellow envelope set against the fluffed and arranged pillows. His hands shook, he gasped for breath. Visions of her floating in the bay flipped through his mind like clips from a thriller. Forcing air into his lungs, he made himself read.

Dear Mike,

First of all, I’m fine and so is Eddie. Please try and understand I need some space, some time to settle things. If I don’t, things will never get better. I missed you terribly last night and wished you’d come home. I’m sure Mae told you about Jared being here. He was so angry, so hurt, and I’m sure you feel the same. By the time you read this, I will be far away so don’t go driving around searching. I’ll come home soon but won’t call, write or email because I don’t want a scene or an ultimatum.

Mike, I want things to work out between us. Spend this time dealing with your own anger, and Jared’s, while I do the same with mine and Elisabeth’s. Forget what Sandra says, this is the only way.

I left Mae and Kevin instructions for things that need to be done. There is enough money in the checking account, thanks to Marianne, and all the bills are paid for this month.

I’m sorry, Mike. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you again. You’ll find Sandra’s book in your night table drawer. Read the whole sad story about the Barretts. It’s all true. I tried to protect you, but there’s no way to evade the truth anymore.

Love,

Liz

Tears stung his eyes, and he mopped them with his sleeve. More took their place and his nose ran. He had to pee and throw up at the same time.

Jared thrashed.
I told you! You should have stayed with her
.

“Shut up!” Mike screamed. “I’m doing the best I can. The woman is crazy.”

A draft blew around the room, and the bedroom door slammed back against the wall. Mike whirled, looking for the specters. “Get the hell out of here. Both of you.”

Elisabeth, in that God awful dress she’d died in, and Jared, disheveled grieving, faced each other.

“Leave us alone. You’re killing us all over again!” Mike’s voice clogged in his throat, as if he was being strangled.

Footsteps pounded in the halls. Mae and Kevin stampeded in.

She ran to him. “Michael, what is it?”

“What’s in yer letter?” Kevin’s voice wavered.

Barely breathing, Mike tried to speak. He pointed. Mae and Kevin’s eyes tracked to the ghosts, silent, oblivious to the living.

“I should never have come here.” Elisabeth’s voice played in Mike’s head though she was looking at Jared. “If I’d stayed in London, none of this would have happened.”

“I should never have left you alone.” Jared buried his face in his hands.

Mike’s stomach lurched, and he put a hand over his mouth to hold back the bile rising in the back of his throat.

“Merciful, Jesus. Maybe we best get a priest.” Mae’s jaw hung open, her breath puffed out in shallow spurts.

Kevin put his arm around Mae. “To hell with the priest.” He looked at Mike. “We best call Sandra.”

The room was cheap, but adequate. She walked downtown to get snacks and milk at Trader Joe's on Boylston, a few blocks from the post office on Massachusetts Avenue. Cold walk, all uphill past the Fens, this time of year. The steep hill kicked her butt and strained her knee even more.

The stroller groaned under the weight of the shopping bags. Liz scouted out a payphone near the post office.

Marti answered, even without a known caller ID. “Hello?”

“Marti, it’s Liz. Listen I’m in Boston and need help.”

“What happened, sweetie?”

The sound of her friend’s voice summoned tears. “I have to get away for awhile. Too much going on, and things are really bad between Mike and I. He left.”

“Oh, Liz. Come right over.”

“No, Eddie and I are taking a vacation. Can you babysit my car? It’s parked right near my old house, and I just mailed you the keys.”

“Sure. Where are you going?”

“I’ve got some research to do for my book.”

“So, where are you going?”

“I’d rather not say. This way if anyone asks, you don’t have to lie.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know you can count on me to keep a secret.”

“I’m fine. Lots of loose ends to tie up. Then I’m going back home to the Cape.”

“Okay, Liz. Promise to keep in touch so I don’t worry.”

“I will, Marti. Thanks. Love ya. Bye.” Liz hung up before she had to give any more information.

The walk downhill, back to the motel, took her farther and farther from anyone, anything she knew. She and Eddie had a quick snack. It was getting late, and Bill might have already left his office.

No way could Liz imagine taking the baby on the T to Government Center. Not in this cold, not with her leg hurting the way it was. She needed to be in control, or at least look in control, when she confronted Bill.

A quick make up freshen: dark lipstick, hair up. Eyes lined, dark mascara. She wasn’t playing demure tonight. Liz tightened the brace under her slacks and bundled Eddie into the front pack carrier. He’d have to survive the cab ride without a car seat.

The woman in the deserted lobby looked up as Liz passed, then back at her computer screen. The chlorine smell from the pool mingled with the odor of bad Chinese from the hotel restaurant. Good thing she’d stocked up for later.

Streetlights blinked on. The sky was a pale gray with streaks of orange and purple clouds. Bare tree branches waved like skeletal baseball fans over the deserted, windswept parking lot. Could opening day at Fenway only be a month off? Would spring really come?

“Can you get me a cab?” Liz asked the woman at the desk.

“Sure.” She picked up a red phone and mumbled into it. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

“Thanks.” Liz stepped outside and sucked in fresh air.

Eddie fussed, rubbed his eyes. She’d interrupted his nap. He snuggled under the blanket to escape the chill wind. The black and red Chevy pulled into the circular drive.

Liz eased into the back and pulled the seat belt around both her and the baby. “Leverett Saltonstall Plaza.”

The cabbie grunted his assent.

It had been a long time since she’d been to the office that once was Gerry’s. Would Bill be there, working, pretending nothing was wrong, that he wasn’t under criminal indictment? Or was he holed up in his neighboring co-op? Was Margie, the long suffering secretary, still on the job? Would she tell Liz where Bill was, call to announce her, or call the cops? This was crazy and would likely get her into legal trouble., But who the fuck cared right now? That’s right, who the
fuck
cared? He’d stolen money from her, and she was toting the baby that, except for the grace and goodness of Mike Keeny, would have had no father and a destitute mother.

Guilt gurgled like Old Faithful. Facing Bill as pissed as she was: easy. Hurting Mike was another matter.

The ghost was quiet, content to know that in forty-eight hours they’d be in England–the first time Elisabeth had returned since the day she’d sailed off to Boston to meet Edward. Not unlike when Liz had summoned the courage when she bought the Barrett Inn. And what she was about to do now.

The cabbie, accustomed to sullen riders, said nothing until, “Saltonstall Plaza. Twenty dollars, ma’am.”

Liz handed him two tens, and two singles. Cheap, but she had to stay under a hundred per day. The door thudded behind her. She looked up at what used to be Gerry’s office window, half expecting to see him silhouetted in the yellow-orange light. The neighboring one, Bill’s, was dark. He wasn’t there.

Odd, her heart beat normally. She’d dreaded the scene in front of Margie the secretary and the other partner more than confronting Bill.

Liz walked toward the luxury building where Bill made his home. She knew the apartment number, the floor; they’d been there many times over the years. The last time had been some charity function. She’d worn that sexy red gown. Black stilettos. Gerry wore his tux. Cummerbund. Hot. They could barely keep their hands off each other until they got home. A year later, Gerry was dead.

Stop, not now.
Liz hesitated. Would Gerry approve of her plan to confront the prick that stole his money, betrayed his trust, ruined his practice? A sense of warmth flowed through her, despite the wicked wind scuttling papers and discarded Charlie Cards across the deserted plaza.

Liz smiled. “Thanks, Gerry. This one’s for you.” She strode into the building, to the same doorman who had been there for years.

“I’m here to see Mr. Jeffers. 1220B.” What if he didn’t live there anymore? Had fled? Gone into hiding?

“May I tell him who is calling?” The man studied her, took in the infant in the carrier huddled under a blanket, likely wondering if Jeffers had anything to do with it.

“Mrs. Elizabeth Levine.” A little white lie, nothing compared to Jeffers’ deceit.

A flicker of recognition passed over his face. “Of course, Mrs. Levine. I’m sorry, it’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has.” He knew how to stay out of the tenants’ business, and how to protect them. Would he announce her?

Liz put on her best stone face, pulled herself up high despite the aching back, the throbbing knee.