If She Should Die (38 page)

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Again. You’re certainly at liberty to make accusations.”

“I haven’t made any accusations. I’ve just asked questions.”

“Your accusations are implied.”

Michael startled Travis by laughing. “Well, now, sir, you’re going to lose me if you get into all this
implied
and
inferred
business. That’s for the lawyers. I’m just here to ask a few questions like a simple cop should.”

Travis’s eyes narrowed. “Simple cop, my ass. You know a lot, but you’re not telling anything.”

“A lot about what, sir?”

“A lot about what people are saying about me!”

“I think you have a case of paranoia going there, Mr. Burke.”

“Do I need a lawyer? Because Sloane Caldwell is a good friend of mine. I can get him here like that!” Travis snapped his fingers.

Michael smiled. “You can call him if you like, but I have only one more question. By the time he gets here, your wife might be back.”

“Okay. One more question.
One
.”

“Were you romantically involved with Patricia Prince or Dara Prince?”

“No! For God’s sake! And I resent—”

“All right, sir. You can sit here and resent all you want when I’m gone. I just had to get a few answers.” Michael stood. “Sorry to bother you,” he said pleasantly, as if this had been a friendly visit. “You take good care of that little girl. Did you say her name was Jan?”

“What? Yes. Jan. But—”

“I’ll bet she’s a cutie. Well, good day to you, Mr. Burke.”

As Michael walked to the police cruiser, he glanced back at Travis Burke. He stood in the doorway staring at Michael. He looked dreadful, Michael noted, almost sick.

The minutes following Jeremy’s outburst at the funeral had been agony for Travis. Bethany had stalked ahead of him to the car. He’d asked if she wanted to drive and she’d refused—an extremely bad sign. After they’d driven about a mile, Travis had lowered the music volume and said, “Bethany, let’s talk about this.” She’d responded by leaning forward and turning up the volume until the New Age sound of John Tesh, whom Travis detested, boomed through the car. They’d driven the rest of the way home with the car windows nearly rattling from the sound waves and Bethany’s seething.

He’d made another attempt at détente after they’d paid the baby-sitter and sent her on her way. “Beth, if you would let me explain—”

“I think you’ve said enough for one day,” Bethany had snapped after settling Jan down on her canopied bed with a cup of apple juice and her coloring book and secondfavorite
green crayon, and then stomping off to their bedroom.

“What are you talking about?
I
haven’t said anything.” Travis had pursued her to the bedroom. “Jeremy Ireland has done all the talking.”

“And he spoke volumes.”

“Oh yes, that impeccable source Jeremy Ireland,” Travis had said witheringly.

“He said Dara called you Snake Charmer.”

“So? A lot of students did. Still do.”

“He said you liked Dara a
lot
.”

“Well, Jeremy would certainly be an expert on my feelings. We’re such good friends. Best buddies.” Travis had rolled his eyes in disdain. “Beth, he’s retarded! What does he know?”

“He’s
mentally challenged
, he is not a vegetable. I think he reads people quite well, not to mention that Dara probably told him things.”

“Dara Prince—a paragon of truth, an astute analyzer of other people’s emotions—talking things over with the highly intelligent and perceptive Jeremy Ireland. That would be a conversation to intimidate even the gods!” Bethany had glared at him. “Look, Beth, even if Dara thought I particularly liked her, it wasn’t true. You know what an inflated ego she had.”

“No.
I
didn’t know her that well.”

“Christine told us about her. She said Dara thought half the men in town were smitten with her.”

“Nice try, but it won’t work. I sensed something when Dara was your student, Travis,” Bethany had said as she began removing the suit she’d worn to the funeral. “And after that body washed up from the river, you said her name in your sleep.”

“Oh. I said
Dara
. I didn’t slur like most people who talk in their sleep. I distinctly said
Dara
.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I wish I’d had a tape recorder running.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t, Beth. You have
always
been suspicious of me and female students.”

“Maybe I’ve had reason to be.” Bethany had hung up her suit with the careful precision that indicated suppressed fury. “I remember how you pursued me when I was your student.”

“I wasn’t married to someone else, dammit!”

“Keep your voice down. Jan is in the next room.”

“You’re talking as loud as I am.”

“I am not. And I don’t wish to discuss this any longer. I’m going to my father’s.”

“You’re moving out?”

Bethany had whirled on him. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d be free to play your little games. Who is it this time? Another nubile nineteen-year-old?”

“I’m not involved with anyone, Beth, and you know it. Don’t go to your father’s now.”

Then, to make matters worse, the doorbell had rung. Bethany had thrown him a damning look, as if she expected it to be Dara herself come calling. “Who could that be?” Travis had asked. “Did you invite anyone to come after the funeral?”

“Not specifically, although I mentioned to a couple of people I thought it was awful that Ames Prince wasn’t holding some kind of after-service gathering. Maybe it’s Chris and Jeremy.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Travis had said. “Just who I want to see—Jeremy.”

But to his surprise and relief, it was Tess and Reynaldo Cimino. “I hope we’re not intruding,” Tess had said. “I just didn’t want to go home.”

Bethany had looked nonplussed for a moment, then
quickly recovered. “We’re happy you dropped by, aren’t we, Travis?”

Travis had nodded, although he wasn’t at all happy about the visit. Neither was Rey, by the looks of him. Travis had noted that Cimino’s locally famous drop-dead looks were dimmed by a slightly gray skin tone and eyes reddened by sleep deprivation. Even his small smile at Bethany was tight and forced.

“I’m in the mood for Baileys Irish Cream,” Bethany had said lightly. Her guests would never know that fifteen minutes earlier she’d been in a rage. “Can I interest anyone else in joining me?”

Everyone else was interested. While Tess and Bethany fixed drinks, Travis and Rey had sat down in the living room. They weren’t good friends, but they were friendly, and the Ciminos had come to dinner a couple of times a year and to Bethany’s annual Christmas party. Rey had even taken a tour of the snake house with Travis and seemed extremely interested in them, not afraid or repulsed like a lot of people. Travis had begun to like the guy then, although he was a bit envious of Cimino’s looks. But Travis had felt distinctly uncomfortable today with Rey as they sat waiting for their drinks. He hoped Rey hadn’t heard Jeremy blast out that Dara had called Travis Snake Charmer and that Travis had especially liked Dara. After all, Cimino had been in love with Dara at the time she’d gone missing. But Rey’s hard, dark stare and monosyllabic replies to conversation attempts had let Travis know Rey had heard Jeremy loud and clear.

“That was the most dismal funeral service I’ve ever attended,” Travis had begun when everyone settled in the living room. “No reception afterward. Patricia’s plot placed so far away from Ames’s. Strange.”

“I think Ames knew Patricia was having an affair,” Bethany had pronounced.

“Affair?” Tess had echoed. “I never heard about an affair.”

Her face had stiffened and her voice had turned high and insincere. Travis had given her a searching look and suddenly realized she
had
known Patricia Prince was having an affair and she’d known it for a while, not just since Patricia’s death. But why was she acting so odd? Did she think the affair had been with Rey?

Conversation had limped along. Travis had desperately wished the Ciminos would leave after one drink. Rey looked like he would have gladly picked up the alabaster ashtray on the coffee table and smashed his wife on the head with it when she’d accepted Bethany’s offer of a second drink. Afterward there was more meandering, stilted conversation. Everyone had nearly fallen on Jan when she entered the room carrying a teddy bear and her coloring book. “We have comp’ny,” she’d said in her adult little voice. “No one told me we have comp’ny. How do you do?”

Gushing. Compliments. Baby talk from Bethany and Tess. A lackluster, “What are you going to be when you grow up?” from Rey.

“A artist,” Jan had answered firmly. “I’m gonna send my pictures to New York City to hang in a gowery where people can pay money to go in and see them and buy them. I’m gonna make tons of money and buy lots of puppies and kittens. And diamond earrings.”

Everyone had laughed at the adorable child, who looked confused. She didn’t see anything amusing about what she’d just said. Then, to Travis’s huge relief, she’d yawned loudly.

“We should go. Jan needs a nap,” Tess had said.

“I’ll just use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind,” Rey had said. “Be back in a minute.”

A minute had turned into ten. “I don’t know what’s
taking him so long,” Tess had fretted after the first six minutes. “He hasn’t been well lately. Maybe I should check on him.”

The poor guy wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom in private, Travis thought, although he was nearly fidgeting with anxiety. He wanted these two out of his house. Something was wrong. There was an agenda for this visit, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Did it have anything to do with Jeremy’s announcement at the cemetery? God, he hoped not.

But when Rey came back and his gaze met Travis’s, Travis felt jolted by its cold hatred. Travis flushed. Now he was certain that Cimino knew he’d been having an affair with Dara at the time of her disappearance. But he couldn’t know she was pregnant. Or did he?

Travis broke into a swift, drenching sweat. He shifted his gaze to Tess. She was watching him and Rey closely. Then her mouth had stretched in a false smile. “Well, now it’s definitely time for us to go.” She stood up and looked at the child. “Jan, you’re a doll. Beth, do drop in the store next week. I have a new shipment of books coming in I think you’ll like. Rey, come on. Do you need for me to drive?”

“You had more to drink than I did,” Rey had said grimly. “I’ll do the driving.”

As soon as the Ciminos cleared the driveway, Bethany had picked up her purse. “I’m going to Dad’s now. He’ll be wondering where I am.”

Travis wanted to be alone, but he also knew Bethany’s visit to Hugh could make the home situation even worse. “Bethany, I really wish you’d stay here,” he said. “You’re already mad at me and he gets you even more fired up.”

“Don’t blame Dad for our problems. He’s never been anything but supportive of our marriage.”

“I hope that was a joke,” Travis had said dryly.

She’d given him the slitty-eyed look that meant she was mad as hell. “I’m just going for an afternoon visit. I promised him.” She’d searched her purse for her car keys. “I can’t take Jan. Dad has an awful cold. Maybe the flu. You’ll have to stay here and baby-sit.” She’d looked at him challengingly. “That won’t cramp your style, will it?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Travis had muttered. “Run to Daddy if you must. Pour out your troubles, your paranoid suspicions, your stories of imagined infidelities. Get the old guy all whipped up. Make him dislike me even more. Maybe that will make you feel justified and happy and you’ll act a little more bearable when you get home.”

“That is an offensive thing to say, Travis Burke. And while I’m gone, don’t you
dare
take Jan to that snake house.”

“I have never taken Jan to the snake house and I won’t until she’s older.”

“Not then, either. Not ever.”

“Beth, she’s my child, too.”

“Then start acting like a father.”

“When have I not acted like a father? Just tell me when I haven’t acted like a good and devoted father.”

Bethany had ignored him and headed straight for Jan, who was now sitting on the couch coloring assiduously. “Mommy’s gonna go visit Grandpa, who’s too sick to see his baby-waby,” she’d babbled in baby talk, which set Travis’s teeth on edge. “Mommy will be back quick as a bunny. Until then, you do everything Daddy-Waddy tells you to, except not going to that nasty old snake house where you might get eaten all up by the nasty old snakes with their horrible, dripping fangs.” After painting this ghastly picture, she’d kissed Jan’s forehead. “Bye-bye, candy cane.”

“Candy cane,” Travis had mumbled. “Sounds like the name of a stripper.”

Bethany had glared. “You would know more about the names of strippers than I.”

“Oh, for—”

“Take care of her, Travis.”

“I
will
. God, Beth, she’s my—”

The front door had slammed behind Bethany. He’d looked at Jan, who’d shrugged like a sophisticated adult, then returned to her coloring.

He’d fixed a pot of coffee, then sat in his armchair watching Jan happily color a clown entirely green. A Martian clown, he’d thought. He hated clowns. They should all look like Jan’s.

The phone had rung and he’d had the absurd hope it was Bethany calling from her father’s to apologize. But it had been Deputy Michael Winter, wanting to talk to him. He’d said he had questions that perhaps Travis wouldn’t want to answer at home, which had sent a shiver of dread down Travis’s spine. Winter must know something, he’d thought. But how? Travis had always been so careful.

He’d gone back to the living room to find Jan lying against a pile of pillows on the couch. The speed with which little kids could fall asleep always amazed him. He’d carried her gently into her bed, covered her, closed the door, and paced the living room until he saw the police cruiser pull up out front.

After Winter left, Travis threw himself down on the couch, feeling like someone had let the air out of him. Winter’s questions had thrown him. He’d expected something bad, but not this bad. Damn that identification label he’d forgotten about on his boom box. If it weren’t for that . . .