Home Fires (6 page)

“Sounds good.”

“I went straight to her apartment instead. It had already been broken into and searched. Searched pretty thoroughly. She wasn’t there.”

Tooley said, “Then they didn’t get her, sir.”

Skip studied him. “You think not? Why?”

“Because they searched. They want her, not something she’s got.”

Skip nodded.

“So they were looking for something that might tell them where she went. Did she have luggage?”

“You’re good. You’re very good. I wish I’d had you with me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Yes, she had an overnight bag. It wasn’t there.” Skip paused to think. “Chelle hasn’t gotten her leave yet. Tomorrow, she says. She sounded confident.”

“That’s good, sir.”

“My point is that Vanessa can’t have joined her. She can’t have walked into Camp Martinez and announced that she was staying with her daughter.”

“A hotel room?”

Skip shook his head. “She’d need a credit card at the very least. Identification, too, very likely. She hasn’t got either one.”

“You said she was a clever woman, sir.”

“You’re right, she is and she may have gotten some somehow.”

“I’ll get the Z man on it. It’s his kind of problem. Okay if I pass along your description?”

“Yes. Of course. Give him everything you’ve got. Chelle and I plan to book a cruise. We’ll do it and board as soon as she gets leave. If Zygmunt finds out anything—or if she contacts you, which I’d think more likely—call me right away. Otherwise, you’re in charge as long as I’m not there.”

“You don’t have a picture, do you, sir?”

“I’m afraid not. I wish I did.” He handed Tooley the brown object. “Ever see anything like this? Be careful if you open it. It’s sharper than broken glass.”

“A pocketknife? No, I’ve never seen any quite like this one.” Tooley handed it back.

“It’s probably two hundred years old, or so I was told by somebody who knows about such things, and it was meant for shaving. The brown handle is bone—he thought it had been dyed that color. Vanessa got it from him, and I found it in her bedroom. She’d bought furniture from him. He’d probably had it in stock for years with no takers, so he gave it to her. When I came in it was on the floor.”

“So they didn’t want it.”

“Correct.” Skip opened the blade. “The thing that interests me is that it seems pointless in two senses. Why did she want it?”

*   *   *

Skip had been relaxing on the veranda outside their stateroom for an hour or more when Chelle dropped into the chair next to his. “I have the most amazing news! You won’t like it. Want to hear it?”

He turned to look at her. “You’re so beautiful that my spirit would soar if you’d come to announce the end of everything.”

“That wouldn’t be amazing, just the Os. This really is amazing. I hope you won’t be angry.”

“With you? I couldn’t be.”

“With her.” Chelle took his hand, holding it between both of hers; he noticed yet again that her right hand was noticeably larger than her left. “Mother’s on the ship.”

He straightened up. “You’re not joking? Are you sure? You didn’t just glimpse someone who looked like her?”

“I—I hugged her.” For a moment Chelle was silent. “That was after we’d talked for a minute or two. She … She said to call her Virginia. Virginia Healy. That’s what they call her here, she said.”

“Which worries you, as it should.”

“I want a drink.” Chelle rose, posing. “I was hours and hours in the spa. Don’t you think I look pretty?”

“Lovely. You glow.”

“That means sweat, and I did. I want a cold drink and something to eat. Do we have to go to the dining salon?”

“No, and it would be better not to.” Skip took out his phone. “I’ll call food service, and that will give you time to think over what you want to say.”

“I know what I want to say. I’m trying to decide how I feel. You brought—not now. I want something tall and tropical, icy cold, with fruit juices and rum.”

“How about the umbrella?”

“Tell them they can keep it.” Chelle sat again. “I want a club sandwich, too. A big one.”

“Anything else?”

“A teddy bear. Never mind, you’re my teddy bear. I hold you and feel comforted. And safe. Pretty soon I’ll stop hitting the dirt when I hear a loud noise.”

Skip smiled and ordered.

“Let me start like this. I didn’t hate her today.”

“I never thought you did.”

“Sorry, but you’re wrong. Furthermore I told you about it that time in the restaurant.”

“I didn’t believe you.”

“You should have, because it was true. Before I went into the Army, Vanessa was a bitch with stardrive. God knows my father had his faults, he drank too much and he cheated on her, but he never molested me and he was semi-nice. Vanessa should’ve been a Halloween costume. Nothing was ever right unless she did it. Nobody was good enough for me, and Charlie certainly wasn’t good enough for her—she had married beneath her, and let that be a lesson to me. Didn’t you notice that I never brought you home to meet my folks?”

Staring out at the rolling green Atlantic, Skip said, “Actually, I didn’t. I should have.”

“Why doesn’t the food come?”

“I suppose because it’s not ready. How’s the spa?”

“Small but good. The masseur’s a big black lady they call Trinity. It’s where she was born, she says. They ought to be Swedes, but she’s good and she’s got arms like a weight lifter. I liked her, and I think she liked me. Her brother’s a soldier.”

“What about the rest?”

“You haven’t said a word about my hair. Is it me?”

“Not quite, but it will be.”

She fluffed her golden curls with both hands. “Could our children be blonds, Skip? Any of them?”

“I didn’t know we were going to have any.”

“We are. That’s not negotiable. If you don’t like them, we can put them up for adoption.” Chelle paused. “Only I think I’d rather keep them. I’ll be a bad mother, though.”

“You’ll be a wonderful mother.”

“Because I had a bad role model.” Her voice fell. “Only I couldn’t hate her today. I—well, I just don’t know. I tried.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t hate or shouldn’t try?”

“Both. We’ve got to hate when we can’t help hating. It’s legitimate then, because we can’t help it. The other thing is the essence of evil.”

She grinned, happy with the change of subject. “Isn’t it supposed to be the love of money? Charlie used to say that.”

“Nine times out of ten, the love of money makes people work harder and do a better job.”

“Yeah. I guess so. Or fear does. Like when we were digging in. People worked until—you wouldn’t believe it. Fear made me clean up my room when I was a kid. Fear of what Mother was going to say and keep on saying. Saying over and over again, with no forgiveness. Not ever. I was afraid of how she’d look and how she’d scream and keep on screaming. I couldn’t help hating her. Can you understand that?”

Picturing the scene, Skip nodded. “Yes. Easily.”

“You brought her up to Canam because you thought I’d want to see her.” It was an accusation.

“You’re right. I did.”

“I didn’t! I hate the sight of her, hate the sound of her voice.”

“You didn’t recognize me, Chelle, but you struggled through that crowd to get to her.”

“Yeah. I suppose I did.” So softly that he could barely hear it, she asked, “Do you understand yourself?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“I don’t. I mean, I don’t understand me. When I met her here, just a few minutes ago. I was glad to see her, but I didn’t want to be.”

He waited.

“Why did you bring her here? It was supposed to be just you and me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Really?” Chelle stared.

“Yes. I’m going to tell you some things she wouldn’t like you to hear. In a way, I shouldn’t. But I haven’t promised not to, and they’re things I think you ought to know.”

“I won’t tell her you told me.”

“Thanks. You know she doesn’t have much money now. You commented on her feather earrings once.”

“I remember.”

“She has one other pair. They’re attractive and look like gold, but they’re plastic. She needed a place to stay, and I found an apartment for her in my building. It was on the seventh floor, and everything below the twenty-fifth is—well, you know.”

“Cheap. Did she pay her own rent?”

“No.” Skip shrugged. “It wasn’t big and it didn’t rent for much, but she was happy to have it. She furnished it with used things. Used furniture—still serviceable, but used—is very reasonable.”

“She must have hated that.”

“I don’t know. I—”

A knock at the door of their stateroom announced the arrival of their lunches. When they were settled at the table, Skip sipped his gin-and-tonic and wondered how best to restart the conversation.

“We should have asked Mother,” Chelle said.

“Asked her what?”

“Asked her to lunch. Can she afford to eat?”

“If she could afford passage on this ship, even in tourist class, she certainly can. Food’s included in the ticket. Tourist-class passengers eat in the tourist-class dining salon. It’s not fancy, but if you don’t mind a lot of canned and dried stuff, there’s nothing wrong with the food.”

“Have you ever been there?”

He shook his head.

“Then how do you know?”

“I checked things out before I booked, that’s all. The information on their site covered all three classes. What the rooms looked like, where they were on the ship, what the food was like, and so on. What deck were you on when you met your mother?”

“This one. The spa’s on this deck, too. Why are you looking like that?”

“Because tourist-class passengers—and second-class passengers—aren’t permitted on this deck. Now eat your sandwich.”

Obediently, Chelle did. “Maybe they’re not, but if they have guards to keep them out, I never saw any. We could call her up and ask her. How could we get hold of her?”

“Wait. We need to talk, so let’s finish lunch.”

“I didn’t hate her. I met her and I was surprised to see her. Flubbergassed. And I hugged her, and she hugged me. I’m bigger and stronger than she is now.…”

Skip nodded.

“That didn’t seem right, but she didn’t seem to mind. You paid the rent on her apartment? Isn’t that what you said?”

“I took care of it, yes.”

“But you didn’t buy her a ticket on this boat?”

“Ship. No, I didn’t.”

“Have you gone up to watch them work the sails?”

“No.” Skip turned on the fan. “If you’ll stop asking me questions, I’ll tell you what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last five minutes.”

“What is it?”

He sighed. “Someone’s after her. Let me back up and explain. Mick Tooley’s a bright young guy in our firm. I told him about your mother and gave him her number. I told her about Mick, too, and gave her his number. She was to contact him if she needed anything.”

“But if someone is after her…?”

“This was before I knew that.” Skip sighed again. “Here I’m guessing, but I don’t believe she knew anybody was after her then either.”

“I see. Go on.”

“I went there the day before we left. It had been broken into and searched fairly thoroughly. She wasn’t there.”

Chelle’s eyes were wide. “You must have thought they’d gotten her.”

“No. It seemed clear they hadn’t. For one thing, her overnight bag was gone. Her clothes were missing, too—all her personal possessions. For another, the break-in had to be quite recent. If it hadn’t been some of the other tenants would’ve reported it—you could hardly walk past the apartment without noticing that the door was broken, and it was near the elevator. I talked to the doormen, and they hadn’t seen her for at least two days.”

“You—you should’ve canceled our trip!” Chelle’s glass slammed the table. “You should have told me. You bastard!”

“Naturally you’re angry. What would you have done if I had?”

“I’d have tried to help her! What the fuck do you think I’d do!”

“Keep your voice down, please.” For a moment Skip was silent, biting his lower lip and feeling terribly, terribly old. “Your mother has your number. If she had needed your help, wouldn’t she have called you?”

“If she could. Only if she could.” Clearly, Chelle was struggling to keep her anger under control.

“You met her just a few minutes ago. You hugged her. Did she ask your help?”

“You smart-ass bastard!”

“As you like.” Skip sipped his drink. “She did not. She had my number, too. She did not call me. She may have called Mick Tooley—as I said, I gave her his number. If she did, which I doubt, he thought it better not to tell me. I’ve found him a young man of sound judgment.”