Murder Melts in Your Mouth (29 page)

I sat with her in the hospital the night she saw the rape counselor. While we waited, we played tic-tac-toe on her hospital gown with a textbook highlighter from my school backpack.

She had rescued me so many times. Picked me up after Todd's death, consoled me after my miscarriage.

But I had never been able to protect her from the demons she bottled up inside.

We all accompanied her to the police station. On the afternoon of the Fourth of July, I kissed her good-bye as they took Lexie Paine into custody.

“She shows the world her strength,” I said to Michael. He had driven us to his house on the Delaware, and we stood on his deck as the darkness gathered. “But she's always been vulnerable. And afraid. Even Crewe couldn't break the barriers she's built around herself.”

Michael held me.

“Her cousin broke her collarbone when she was eleven, did I ever tell you that? And he raped her a couple of years later.” I drew a ragged breath. “Now I feel as if she's dead.”

“She's not dead.” He kissed the top of my head. “She won't be inside for long. A manslaughter charge like the one she pleaded to—it's only going to be five years, max. She'll be out in three.”

It was no consolation.

The trees shivered overhead. The Delaware River rippled and murmured before us. The Delaware, shallow as it flowed before Michael's house, was a peaceful river. If I threw a leaf onto the water, though, it would rush down to the Chesapeake and out into the ocean, gone forever.

I said, “When did you know? That she killed him?”

“I had a gut feeling. The things she said, the way she pushed Crewe away. I knew she wanted to handle something alone.”

“Like you,” I said.

He tightened his arms around me.

But I turned in his embrace and looked up into his face. “Were you being truthful with her? About paying the price and being absolved? About a new life?”

“Yes.”

“You weren't going to help her run away, were you? Please tell me that.”

“When she asked me to get her out of the country, I thought about it. But I knew it would be wrong. I was going to try to talk her into sticking around. I couldn't have done it the way you did. You saved her.”

“It doesn't feel that way.”

In the sky overhead, a flicker of lightning flashed, and a moment later the thunder rumbled. The oppressive summer heat seemed to rush down upon us hotter than ever, and then it broke as the first drops of rain hissed on the deck beneath our feet.

But I said, “You're going to jail again, aren't you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I'm sorry, Nora. I have to admit I'm an accessory to the truck theft. The only way my father will agree to go quietly is if I take some of the blame too. And maybe it's right.”

I felt the rain sting my cheeks. We let the rain fall around us, though. Cleansing, perhaps.

A
fter the weather broke and a few days of rain washed the world clean, my family voted to go to the beach. Libby insisted I come, too. We packed an enormous picnic. It took three cars to transport everyone and all our junk. The day was warm and clear with a brilliant sun.

We staked out a spot on the sand and spread quilts before the weekend crowd got too huge. We opened umbrellas and checked that the coolers had plenty of ice. We could smell popcorn and seawater on the breeze. Daddy bought a box of taffy, popped a piece into his mouth and immediately pulled a crown off one of his molars. I took Maximus down to the water and held his arms while he squealed and splashed his pudgy feet in the waves.

The twins went off to look for dead fish and desiccated crabs. Lucy dug a hole near the water's edge and spent the afternoon burying things. Rawlins and Shawna rented boogie boards and plunged into the ocean to be alone with each other in the crowd. Max took a nap in my arms.

All morning, Emma sat, ominously silent, in a beach chair. She dug her toes into the sand, wearing black sunglasses that hid her eyes from the rest of us. She drank can after can of ginger ale and didn't say much. Her brooding made us all nervous.

When she pulled a T-shirt over her head and sauntered off to find a bathroom, Libby whipped off her sun hat and leaned toward me. “Actually, Emma handled the whole episode very well. Except for lighting the Haffenpepper girl's dress on fire. And Hart's a quick thinker. I give him all the credit for stripping off the dress before anybody got hurt.”

“Did Hart propose to Eva Braun's daughter?” I asked.

“He did, but then there was all that screaming. I'm surprised you didn't hear it, Nora. Anyway, Hart's a free man. The beer heiress never wants to see him again.”

“Did Emma tell him? About the baby?”

“Yes, she did. And he took it badly, but I don't think that will last. Mark my words, Nora, there's something happening between those two. Of course, I'm not entirely sure they like each other much. And there are dozens of issues to be settled. But the sexual tension is electrifying!”

Jacque Petite sat up on his elbows on the quilt where he'd been sunbathing. His back was already beet red despite several layers of sunscreen Libby had lovingly applied. His electric blue Speedo had inched downward to reveal some dazzling white skin of his surprisingly perky bottom. He slid his sunglasses up onto his perspiring forehead and smiled. He was always smiling, of course. Except when he was giggling with my sister.

He said, “I think it would be very hard to enjoy good sex with someone you didn't love just a little bit.”

Libby patted his cheek. “Yes, my darling, I agree completely.”

I said, “I heard a rumor Hart may make a bid for what's left of the Paine Investment Group.”

“Really? Would Lexie let that happen?”

“I don't think she has any say in the matter.”

“Won't she be blown to bits if she loses the firm?”

“She's lost it already,” I said quietly. “But after she's released, it will be interesting to see what she chooses to do with her life.”

“Darling,” Libby said to Jacque. “Did you bring any of your incomparable chocolate-covered strawberries, by chance?”

“You think I might forget your second-favorite treat, my pigeon?” He cast an appreciative glance down the flirty skirt of her bathing suit and gave her knee a squeeze. “I brought champagne, too. You said we have celebrating to do.”

“Yes, Nora's promotion!”

My family applauded.

I acknowledged their approval with a seated bow. “Thank you. But it's not exactly a promotion. Just an assurance that I'll be allowed to stick around for another year. Especially if I can continue to come up with good video material for the paper's Web site. And the editors want me to help everybody choose content.”

“That sounds very creative. Very promising,” Jacque declared.

Daddy piped up. “We're very proud of you, Muffin.”

“Does it mean you won't be available to look after the children?” Libby asked. “Because Jacque and I were considering a trip to the islands soon.”

Jacque said, “Why don't we take them with us?”

Libby looked prettily astonished. “With us?”

“Certainly! I love children. And yours are all so interesting, dearest. We could have a glorious time.”

“Well…I suppose we could do that.”

From the other end of the quilt, Tierney interrupted. “Should we be worried about Henry? I think Lucy's got him buried up to his neck over there. What if the tide comes in?”

We all looked over at Lucy's construction project. The whole family was pleased to see she had replaced her imaginary friend with a real person. We hated to break the spell by interrupting.

Daddy said, “As long as he's still breathing, I think he'll be okay.”

Tierney said, “He's supposed to take me to the airport later, that's all. My flight is at nine.”

I said, “You could stay another week, Tierney. You don't really need to rush back to your business, do you?”

“Yes, I do. For so many reasons.”

“Son,” Daddy said, “you're a member of the family now. I hope that means you'll be inviting us to visit you soon.”

“Uh—”

“And, of course, we expect you home for all holidays. I carve a mean Christmas goose, you know.”

A diplomat, Tierney tipped up his mirrored sunglasses and said, “Thank you. I'll take that invitation under advisement.”

I hid my smile. I had seen a glimpse of the Blackbird genes in Tierney. Perhaps part of his reason for fleeing us so soon was that he could tamp down the spirit yearning to break free inside him.

Daddy said, “We do a very festive Thanksgiving, too. I presume all our tax issues will be settled by then. It's only a matter of paperwork now, I'm sure. Nora sets a lovely table. She's a miracle-worker with centerpieces. That is, if she doesn't decide to house-sit for those peculiar friends of hers. What on earth would you do with yourself if you move into the city, Nora?”

“Walk to work?” I said.

“But think of all the joys of family living you'd be missing!”

I was thinking precisely of those dubious joys when I told Daniel and Eric I'd look after their home, but I changed the subject. “Tierney, did you find an investor for Amazon Chocolate?”

He settled down on the quilt again to sunbathe. “My friend the loan shark came through,” he said lightly. “A silent partner, I guess you could say. Amazon Chocolate's going to survive.”

Mama had been sharing the big umbrella with me, reading from a book with a tattered brown cover. Suddenly she gave an exclamation and sat up. “Here it is!”

“Here what is?” Daddy inquired.

She planted her forefinger onto the yellowed page. “Exactly the ceremony we need to have for Emma!”

Emma's shadow appeared over us, and she blocked the glare of the sun. In her hand was another can of ginger ale, fresh from a vending machine. “What kind of ceremony?”

Mama's sequined sunglasses sparkled. “A godparents' incantation! At least, I think that's what this is. My translation from the Inca text might be off.”

“You're reading an Inca text?”

“No, Nora, this is an interpretation by the famous mentalist Charles Merriman—with footnotes in Incan symbols. I'm sure you've heard of him. He was a famous nineteenth-century Jesuit who left the order to become a scholar in metaphysical beliefs of ancient cultures. That was before he turned to magic acts to make a few bucks. Of course, he lived out his days in a mental institution, but that was after he wrote this brilliant book.”

“Sounds like a bestseller to me,” Emma said.

Mama took off her sunglasses and pinned Emma with a disapproving glare. “Don't you want your baby to have all the advantages? You know, a healthy appreciation for spiritual well-being begins in the womb, Emmaline.”

Michael woke beside me and lifted the paperback book off his face. He squinted up at my sister. “Emmaline?”

She kicked his ankle.

Mama clapped her hands together smartly. “We need volunteers! Spiritual godparents, anyone?”

“I nominate Nora,” Libby said in a shot.

“And Mick,” Emma added. “If he's going to make fun of me, he's got to pay a price.”

He laughed. “Sure, Emmaline.”

Michael's skin had turned a delicious shade of bronze in just a couple of hours. Stretched out beside me, he looked like a Roman god, but he appeared to be unaware of the effect he had on passersby. He rolled over on one elbow. “What do I have to do? Wave a palm frond at a virgin or something?”

Mama frowned at her book. “Let's see. First there's something here about embracing the cosmic forces with an open heart and then…” She flipped a page. “Ah, do both of you solemnly swear to uphold peace in the universe and—and—oh, dear, I've lost my place. No, here it is. In the perpetual motion of the sun, moon and stars, you must take each other's hand. Go on, do it!”

Laughing, I reached for Michael's hand.

“In the sight of all who gather here, do you vow to forswear all others?”

“Okay,” Michael said.

“And pledge to remain joined despite all tribulations—and—let's see here, tempests in storm-tossed seas?”

“Of course,” I said. “Whatever that means.”

“And you must revere this joyous bond every day of your life together, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”

“Wait a minute,” Michael said. “This sounds—”

Mama picked up the pace, rapidly bulldozing over his objections. “Do you love this woman above all others?”

“Yes, but—”

“And you, Nora, do you vow to spend the rest of your life bound in happiness to this man?”

“Mama—”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do,” I said as Michael's hand tightened around mine. “But—”

“Then, by the blessings of this gathering, I hereby declare that you—”

She flipped the page and said, “Oh, dear. I think this is the wrong ceremony. It says we can declare that you are joined for life. Does that mean…?”

“Kiss her quick,” Jacque advised Michael. “Just in case it's for real.”

“Mama, what have you done?” I cried. “The Blackbird Curse!”

My mother closed her book with a snap. “Whatever do you mean, Nora?”

“The family curse! All the Blackbird women—our husbands die!”

“Don't be silly, darling. That old curse only counts when the father objects to the marriage. Or if the ceremony takes place during a leap year. And there's something about Halley's comet, too, but I'm not sure about that part.” She put her sunglasses back on and settled contentedly into her chair. “Your grandmother Blackbird was never very clear.”

“Daddy?” Libby said. “Do you object to this marriage?”

“Well, I keep hearing rumors about a jail sentence.” My father put on a stern face. “Just what's that all about, young man?”

“I can't lie to you, sir. I'm going away for a little while. It'll give me a chance to think about the kind of life I want to make for your beautiful daughter. But I expect to be back in time for that Christmas goose.”

“And what are your prospects, may I ask?”

“Prospects?”

Tierney was laughing. “The newspapers say he's taking over a whole family business.”

“Is that true?” I asked hotly. “Is that why yesterday's newspaper suspiciously disappeared?”

“Nora—”

“Sorry, Mick,” Tierney said. “I thought she knew.”

“It's just a few loose ends,” Michael assured me. “Hardly anything at all. I can take care of it from inside, no problem.”

Michael kissed me, and I hesitated only for a moment before kissing him back. Libby brought out the chocolate-covered strawberries, and Jacque popped the cork from a bottle of chilled champagne. Emma gave me a hug, and I think she meant it.

Daddy proposed a long-winded toast that ended with, “It's wonderful to have a plumber in the family!”

After we drank champagne from paper cups, Michael pulled me down to the edge of the water, and we waded into the surf. Children shrieked and splashed around us. An elderly couple stood ankle deep nearby. I saw Rawlins catch a wave, showing off. Watching him from her boogie board, Shawna caught sight of me and waved. I waved back.

Michael said, “So this is it? As close to married as we can get?”

“We'll talk about it. When I come to visit you in jail.” I took his hand as a wave splashed against our knees. I looked at the horizon and breathed deeply of the sea air.