Death in a Funhouse Mirror (36 page)

He sat down on the bed, shaking his head. "Sometimes it seems like the world is going to hell faster than we can comprehend. That must have been very frightening. And you have no idea who it was?"

"None. That is, I suspected it was an employee we'd just fired, especially since the intruder burned up my clothes, but the police say it wasn't her. So I have no idea... maybe a burglar who covers his tracks with arson?"

"Your boyfriend, that nice policeman, he wasn't around?"

"He appears to have ridden off into the sunset."

He put his hand over mine. Despite the heat of the room, I was chilled, and the warmth felt good. "I'm sorry to hear that. You deserve a lot more of the good stuff than you're getting. First your husband, then your sister. That's why you work so hard, isn't it?"

"I like my work," I said defensively.

"I know you do. It shows when you talk about it like you did the other night. I was very impressed. Too many people just walk through what they do without ever getting engaged. You're not like that. Whatever you get involved with, you take seriously. That's why I'm worried about this business with Eve."

"What business?"

He smiled. "Give me credit for some intelligence, Theadora, even if I am an old fogy. We already talked about this. At my office on Friday. I must say, I'm a bit disappointed in you. I understood you to say you weren't going to get involved, didn't I?" I opened my mouth to speak but he shook his head. "Let me finish. I know who you've been talking to. Eve hasn't been exactly subtle, has she? And Norah is loyal, if a bit confused. And Mrs. Coffey?" He shrugged. "She's very confused. I don't know what she told you, but she hated Helene. It's hard to believe, but Martha once convinced Eve not to tell her mother that she was pregnant so that Martha could go with her for the abortion. Sort of sick, if you ask me. She sees everything through the filter of her own bad marriage."

Ordinarily, in my vaguely sick and dizzy state, depressed as I was about Andre, Cliff would have been the ideal person to be around. He'd always made me feel better. Not today. Today I felt like a twelve-year-old caught stealing from the local five-and-ten.

"That's the trouble with this so-called investigation you're conducting," he said. "Even if you had the time for it, which it seems you haven't, given how tired you look and the fact that you're falling asleep in strange places in the middle of the day, I wonder how you have the stomach for it. Getting the sordid details of Helene's and my life doled out in little bits and pieces by malicious informants can't be very pleasant, especially with Eve breathing down your neck."

"I'm just trying..."

"I know what you're trying to do. I think. You're trying to make her be reasonable. To see the whole picture. To stop being so obsessed. You've been trying to steer her straight as long as I've known you. I admire your loyalty, I truly do. She's very difficult. Most people would have given up on Eve by now. But I'm tired of this business. Tired of having her suspicions hanging over my head. What you're doing isn't going to help. You know Eve better than that. Nothing you tell her is going to change her mind. This is an emotional thing, not a reasoned one. Can you imagine how much it hurts me to have my only child suspect I murdered her mother?"

He had my injured hand between his, and as he spoke, he squeezed it tighter and tighter until my eyes stung with tears and I couldn't stand it any more. I jerked it back and cradled it protectively against my body, searching his face for signs of the malice I'd felt. All I saw was regret and sympathy. In his face. His eyes. His voice. "Oh, God! I've hurt you, haven't I? I'm so sorry. I was so carried away I forgot. May I see?"

He reached for it, and I fought the urge to refuse, to snatch it back as he pulled it toward him. To get up and run out of there and go home where I was safe. Ha. As if I was even safe there. Okay, so I'd let him look, make a few comforting noises, and then I'd get out of there. If there was still time before Eve came back. Why couldn't it be last Sunday? Then I'd at least have beer and clams and my good friend Suzanne to look forward to. It was very inconsiderate of her to go and get married just when I needed her most.

He started to peel the tape off and I closed my eyes. I wasn't good at blood, at pain, at injuries. It hurt more when he pulled the gauze loose, and when the air hit it, things escalated from just pain to agony. I clenched my teeth and tried to keep him from seeing. To distract myself, I said, "We didn't talk about Eve on Friday."

"Tuesday then. Or Wednesday," he said impatiently. "This hand is a mess. You haven't been taking care of it. I'll see what Eve's got."

I glanced at it. Ugly. A wide red swath across my palm with crusted, oozing blisters and raw skin underneath. Just looking at it made it hurt more. I reacted to the pain in my usual way—by getting angry and impatient. I didn't want to be fussed over. If he'd just left me alone, this wouldn't have been necessary. I knew Eve didn't have any Band-Aids, unless she'd bought more. Now I'd have to sit here while he tried to patch together some kind of makeshift dressing when I was chafing to be gone. I had to get to the office and do the rest of my preparation for tomorrow. Sarah was coming in specially to type the questionnaire. Then I had to get some food and get the sleep my tired body was begging for. He came back with gauze and adhesive tape. Despite the fact that I was seething like a pressure cooker, I managed to stay cool while he very competently and tenderly rebandaged my hand. As soon as he was done I jumped up. "Thanks, Cliff. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Shouldn't you take a few days off?" he said.

This from the guy who'd been breathing down the back of my neck for the past week, pushing me to get things underway. "I'll be fine. Really. This is nothing." Nothing but a hand that felt like I was wearing a red-hot boxing glove. "Tell Eve I'll call her later." It was a calculated remark. I didn't think he was there to see Eve. His response confirmed that.

"I don't think I'll stick around. Too hot in here." When he walked there was a rattling sound from his pocket. I stared. He noticed, then reached in and pulled out a vial of pills. "Eve puts too much faith in chemistry," he said. "From time to time I vet her medicine cabinet." He put the pills away.

Together we walked downstairs and out to our cars. It wasn't until I got out of the car at the office that I remembered the gloves. They were still in my pocket except for two little fingertips peeking out like tiny yellow ears. Well, it was too late to do anything about that now. I finished revising the questionnaire and left it on Sarah's desk, cursing Cliff every time I moved my injured hand. When I got home, I dug some heavy-duty oral analgesics out of the medicine cabinet and washed them down with a swig of fresh squeezed orange juice. If living well was the best revenge, I wasn't getting much. Revenge or anything else. No one had called, which was fine with me. I was feeling rabidly antisocial. I made myself a peanut butter sandwich and wolfed it down. Then, while there was still some daylight left, I put on my shorts and went for a walk on the beach. I had a lot on my mind and I didn't intend to think about any of it.

 

 

 

Chapter 23

 

I came back from my walk with a pocketful of shells and a better disposition. My good humor, inspired by the gorgeous weather and some healthy exercise, lasted through an hour of work out on the deck, where I basked like a happy turtle in the last warm rays of the sun. My hand didn't hurt much, thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, and the day was so lovely it was possible to ignore all the bad stuff that was going on. My good humor lasted until the phone rang. Even before I picked it up, I knew that it was going to ruin my mood. I should have trusted my intuition and let the machine get it. I almost said, "Hello, Eve," but it wasn't Eve, it was Andre. Asking a peculiar question.

"Thea, why do you have a bandage on your hand?"

No hello. No preliminaries. No apologies. Just that. Bastard, I thought. Here I am longing for you and you're cold as a stone. "Because I burned it in the fire." I could be just as terse as he could.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"No. Yes. I also have eight stitches in my head. Or maybe nine. I can't remember. They hurt, too. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"Who was that guy?"

That's right. Don't waste words, Detective, get right to the heart of things. "I told you. A cop. Officer Harris."

"He's a good looking guy, but awfully young. You should think about what you're getting into."

What was this? Yesterday the outraged lover and today he's trying to be my mother. After all this time, he ought to know better. "I always think about what I'm getting into before I take on a new project. I'm getting into the same things I always get into. Consulting contracts to help private schools. That's what I do, Andre. For a living. If you mean my midnight intruders with knives and arsonists and burglars, I didn't think about them because they were quite unexpected."

"Come on, Thea. I mean Harris. You expect me to believe he was there investigating? Over drinks at your place? At ten at night? With you dressed in your seduction clothes? What am I supposed to think?"

"You might try thinking the best, instead of the worst. You're supposed to trust me. You're supposed to believe me. You're supposed to be here for me when someone tries to kill me. When I'm scared and hurt and all alone. Not running away and then calling up and yelling at me."

"But I didn't know...."

"Whose fault was that? I wasn't the one playing hide-and-seek. I called you. You were nowhere to be found. Maybe if you'd been here Friday night..."

"Okay, so I'm sorry. I thought you were calling to make me feel bad about the wedding, so I was avoiding you. And what happens? When I do show up, I find you with another guy. What am I supposed to think?"

He was breaking my heart. Why couldn't he just say he was sorry? That he'd missed me? That he was on his way? "Oh, I don't know, Lemieux. Maybe that I'm the woman who loves you, even if things aren't easy for us right now. That he was there for an innocent purpose even if he was male? Why can't you get it through your head that I'm not your ex-wife? That I'm not going to fall into bed with the next available man because we've had a fight. It doesn't show much respect for me, you know. What was wrong with listening to me? Hearing what I had to say? Why would I have lied to you about who he was?"

"You wouldn't be the first woman who ever lied to me."

There it was again. The specter of his ex-wife. She'd lied and manipulated and jerked him around till he was twisted like a pretzel, until he had the good sense to take a hike. It wasn't just being a cop that had taught him not to show his feelings; he'd learned a lot of it from her. If he didn't show her how he felt, there was less for her to work with. Surprisingly, he'd come out of it still open and decent, but when that distrust lined up with his temper, he could be a pretty pigheaded guy. That's what he was being right now and I didn't see how I could change his mind.

"I know that women have lied to you. But I didn't. I don't know... I might be the first woman who ever didn't lie to you, but I don't think there's anything I can do to convince you of that, not if you've already got your mind made up. You could call the police department and talk to Harris. You could ask him what was going on." I waited to see if he'd respond but his end was silent. "No comment? Well, right now, I'm tired and I hurt. I still have a lot of work to do before tomorrow and I have to figure out what to wear since all my work clothes got burned up. All I can say is that I love you and I'd be happy to talk, or walk, or sleep with you when you get over this heavy macho wronged-lover act, but as long as you're determined to be an asshole, please leave me alone."

I managed to be brave on the phone, but the call left me shaky, and the next one, from Eve, didn't help. Her earlier good spirits seemed to have vanished; like Andre, she was suspicious and unfriendly. I gave her an outline of what I'd learned, skirting carefully around the question of Helene's secret life by suggesting only that her mother might have had other men. I shouldn't have bothered. She was not at all receptive to what I had to tell her. Her position continued to be that I wasn't a true friend unless I could prove her father guilty, something which any true friend would find easy in the face of the overwhelming evidence available.

Despite our agreement, she wasn't at all willing to consider what I had learned, or to entertain the many possibilities it suggested.

"Lenora says you didn't really listen to her. She says you just kept suggesting other possibilities."

"Questioning her assumptions, Eve. Collecting information. That's what we agreed I'd do."

"We agreed you'd help me prove that Cliff..."

"No, Eve. Our agreement was that I'd talk to people and tell you what I learned. What I learned is that no one has any solid evidence that Cliff was involved. Things are no clearer now that I've spoken with people than they were before."

"You're just like all the rest, Thea," she said.