Picture Them Dead (22 page)

“And as for Esme moving out, maybe she's right, maybe it's time,” Jack said.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said, unable to suppress a smile. “I'll miss her, but some privacy might be nice.”

*   *   *

I met Dee for coffee the next morning and as we stood in a line that snaked all the way out the door, I spotted Bryan Mason at the far back table. He was sitting with the Francesca woman. Something about the scene made my blood boil and I imagined I actually heard gears clicking in my head.

On Gavin's best day he's an average-looking guy. Cute if you like scruffy guys, but nothing that would cause a gal to swoon. And this woman had asked him out? No, surely not without an ulterior motive. And what would that have been? To get him away from his apartment and his car? And what of Bryan's uncharacteristic concern for Gavin? I had a hunch his goal had been the same as Laney's—access to information on the investigation.

Well, now I wanted information. And since they had Laney's statement, I figured I was released from my promise not to talk to Gavin or Bryan.

“Get me a cup of medium roast and an apple fritter, would you?” I said to Dee, pressing money into her hand.

“Sophreena, don't . . .” she called as I walked toward the tables, but I didn't stop.

I approached Bryan's table with purpose and planted my feet. “Hello,” I said. “Fancy seeing you two together. You know, Bryan, Gavin's got enough problems without you messing with him. Or you, either,” I said, turning my ire on Francesca Whozit.

Bryan gave me an amused smile. “What are you talking about, messing with him?” he asked. “I haven't done anything but try to help him.”

“Help him right back into jail!” I said.

Bryan gave me a perplexed look, but I didn't buy it for a moment. “You're obviously upset about something. Sit down, Sophreena. Have a cup of coffee with us. Do you know Frankie?” He held out a hand in her direction, all Mr. Charm.

“Cut it, Bryan,” I said. “I know you had something to do with—”

Dee grabbed my arm hard. “I got us a table,” she said.

I pulled my arm away. “I'll be there in a minute, I'm not done here,” I said.

“Yeah, you are,” Dee said in a singsong voice. She nodded curtly to Bryan and the woman and dragged me off bodily. Picking up our pastries and coffee from the table, she continued to the sidewalk, her hand around my arm like a vise.

“What are you doing? Fine, I won't talk to them. Where's my coffee?” I asked, trying to wrench my arm away.

“No coffee,” Dee said. “Keep walking.” When we came alongside a florist's van, suddenly Jennifer stepped into our path. “Thanks for your help,” she said to Dee and took her turn at the vise grip on my arm like it was a relay baton. “Probably be best if you go on home, we'll call you later,” she said to Dee. And with that she practically threw me into the van.

“What did I tell you?” came a deep voice from the front seat. “Did I not say, clearly, Sophreena, don't talk to either of those fellas? Was I not specific?”

“Yes, Denny, you did,” I said, rubbing at my arm. “But that was before you solved the case. And those two were sitting there looking all smug and it just got to me, that's all. I know he had something to do with—” I stopped abruptly as I looked around the van. A guy was sitting on the floor in the back, headphones clamped askew to his head so that it left one ear free. He was staring at a computer screen. Two computer screens, actually.

He glanced up and nodded at me. “Jerry,” he said. “I'm a technician.”

I craned my neck to see the screens. One was a video feed of the table where Bryan and Francesca were sitting. The other was an up-and-down squiggle that I surmised was an audio feed.

“You may have just screwed up an operation it took us weeks to put into place,” Denny said through clenched teeth.

Jerry raised his voice so Denny could hear him. “Actually this may have worked in our favor. He was Joe Smooth before, now he's rattled. We may get something yet.”

Jerry tapped a key and suddenly the van was filled with voices. I looked a question at Jennifer.

“We flipped Frankie,” she said. “She's wired.”

“I didn't sign up for this,” Frankie was saying. “I want no part of it. You told me Gavin was guilty, that he killed Sherry, and that you were just trying to make sure the blame fell where it should without getting us involved. Now Laney Easton has confessed and the police are asking all kinds of questions.”

“Stay cool,” Bryan said. “It'll all be okay. It's all over with now. All we have to do is go low-key for a little while. Our suppliers are a little skittish, but it'll blow over in a few weeks and it'll be business as usual.”

“Business as usual?” I asked, but my question only earned me a shushing from the three of them.

“Not for me, it won't,” Frankie insisted. “I'm out of it. Out of the whole business.”

“No, you're not,” Bryan said, his voice dead calm. “You're in up to your pretty little eyeballs. I'm very disappointed in you, Frankie. You had only two things to do that night. Two things,” he repeated, holding up two fingers. “One, keep Gavin out of sight and tank his alibi, and two, put his keys back. You totally screwed up one out of two.”

“You didn't tell me you were going to run somebody off the road, or I would never have helped you.”

“A little self-aggrandizing,” I said. “But she's working it, isn't she?”

Jerry nodded and grinned at me, but Denny and Jennifer shushed me again.

I could see Bryan starting to shift in his chair. They were little metal bistro chairs and not the most comfortable under any circumstances. He leaned in toward Frankie, causing the back legs of his chair to tilt off the ground. He reached across to place his hand on hers. To a casual observer, it would have looked like a gesture of affection. “Listen to me,” he hissed. “This is not the kind of thing you can resign from, Frankie. Don't act stupid; it doesn't suit you. If I'd wanted Gavin's car for anything legit, I'd have asked to borrow it.”

“I want out,” Frankie said, pulling her hand away. “Out of all of it.”

“And last week you wanted the same thing I want. I want enough money so that I can quit my job and stop licking other people's boots. And at this point I don't care what I have to do to get there. And you'll be right by my side, helping me, every step of the way.”

“You don't own me, Bryan,” she said. “And you'd better remember, I know everything about your operation.”

“You should,” Bryan laughed, “you helped me set it up. Without you and Sherry, I'd never have realized I was sitting on a prescription drug gold mine. Seems rich folks have a lot of anxieties. And as for owning you, Frankie, you'd better remember I've already killed once to protect our enterprise. Who's to say I wouldn't do it again if I felt everything was on the line?”

“What?” Frankie said, and I really believed the shock this time.

“Laney never was any good at finishing what she started,” he said, his voice down to a growling whisper. “She called me in a panic after she and Sherry fought and, as usual, she expected me to clean up her mess. But when I got there, Sherry was very much alive and thoroughly pissed. She was going to tell not only about what happened all those years ago but she'd gone all righteous prig about our deal. She was the one who told me how to do it, for God's sake. And there she was, screaming all this nonsense about how I needed to cleanse my soul and how being involved in the drugs had ruined her life.

“So,” he said, throwing up his hands and leaning back in his chair, “if it was ruined anyhow, what good was it? Right there by that open grave in the middle of a driving rain. Two problems solved, or so I thought. I guess the cat was already out of the bag about that phone call to Quentin Calvert when we were kids. I took care of it. I let Laney go on thinking she'd killed her, which worked out well, incidentally. But, good friend that I am, I did help her get Sherry's things out of her place. I figured Gavin would end up back in jail for something anyhow, eventually. And it might as well be something that would help me out. I was gonna tip off the police anonymously, but the idiot called them himself.”

“What do you have against the brother?” Frankie asked. “Were you trying to kill him when you ran him off the road? Were you going to pin that on Gavin, too? My God, Bryan.”

Bryan shrugged. “I thought maybe Sherry told him stuff about us. I wasn't trying to kill him, I just wanted him to move on and figured I'd give him a little encouragement. Look, Frankie, I'm not a monster, I'm just a guy who's tired of getting the short end of the stick. I'm telling you all this,” he said leaning in close again, “to let you know I mean what I say. Nothing is going to stand in my way. Nothing and no one.”

“You really killed her?” Frankie said, her voice shaking.

“I didn't have a choice,” Bryan said, leaning over to cup her hand again. “I didn't want to do it, just like I wouldn't ever want to hurt you, Frankie. But yes, I ­really killed her.”

“That's it!” Denny said. “Keep it rolling, Jerry. Jennifer, let's move in.”

nineteen

Winston and Marydale's wedding was joyous. The weather bestowed its blessing, allowing the ceremony to be held in the garden as Marydale and Winston had wanted.

Winston's concerns about how the families would blend seemed to have been a waste of anxiety. During the reception Dee and Brody abandoned all sense of decorum and began chasing Winston's youngest grandkids around the backyard to a chorus of laughter and squeals.

Marydale and Winston each looked resplendent and seemed to be enjoying every moment. This was very different from other weddings I'd attended, where the tension that ramped up during preparations spilled over into the big day and every minor glitch was cause for a freak-out.

Winston flubbed his lines during the vows, causing Marydale to get the giggles. Marydale's two Westies, Sprocket and Gadget, were honored guests, at least until Sprocket peed on the best man's shoe, much to the amusement of the grandchildren, and some adults, too. A mother bird got worried about so many people close to her nest and took a couple of dive-bombing runs at the wedding party. Still, everyone kept right on smiling and enjoying themselves.

Most especially Denny and Esme. They were the happiest I'd ever seen them. Esme even allowed some public displays of affection from Denny, an arm around her waist, an adoring eye lock, gestures she'd never have permitted a month ago.

Coco brought River as her plus one and I had the chance to ask if he'd heard from Ron Solomon about what was to be done with Samuel Wright's remains. “Ron said I could probably make a case for having him moved, but it didn't seem right somehow,” River said. “We'll keep him there, only this time with a proper grave marker,” he said. “I'm at peace with that idea and Luke's pleased. I hope his sister would be, too.”

“And what does Jennifer think?” I asked.

“Jennifer's in a good place,” River said, smiling and shaking his head. “Or leastwise, she's working toward it. She's never allowed herself to be happy since her mother died, but she's mellowed out here recently. I don't know what did it, but I'm not gonna overthink it. I'll just take it as a gift from the cosmos.”

“How are she and Luke getting on?” Jack asked. “Last time I talked to Luke, he was thinking maybe he should look for other quarters.”

“That's changing, too,” River said. “Fact, the two of them have gone out to the mountains on a camping trip with some of Jenny's other friends. They're at Sliding Rock. I'm thinking the water may be pretty cold this early in the season, but if I know those two, neither of them will admit they can't take it. I expect they'll come home with blue lips and frozen fannies.”

“Sounds like there may be a little something developing there,” I said.

“No, nothing like that,” River said. “But if things did go in that direction, I wouldn't have any objection. I've grown quite fond of the boy. But it's nothing romantic between them, they're just becoming friends.”

“Friendship romances are the very best kind,” Jack said, punching me playfully on the arm.

“Well, you two oughta know,” River said. “Them, too,” he added as Marydale and Winston stepped up on the back porch so everyone could see for the official cake cutting. They thanked everyone for coming, Marydale cried, Winston stammered, the dogs yipped, and everyone clapped and hooted and lifted glasses of champagne to toast the newlyweds.

I reached up to touch the pendant Jack had given me and ran my fingers over the embossed tree that represented life, growth, and family. Things were changing. Marydale and Winston were married now. Esme was back to her old self, still bossing me around, but with good humor again. She'd closed on the house and would be moving out soon. I'd miss her, but she'd be only a half a block away, and she was right, it was time. She and Denny were past the last obstacle keeping them apart, and Jack and I were finding our way in our newly defined relationship. Who knew what life would bring in the months and years to come, but after the ugliness of the past weeks, there was plenty to celebrate. As I looked out over the crowd of well-wishers, a feeling of deep contentment came over me. I wasn't thunderstruck, but I was most definitely awestruck. I touched my champagne glass to Jack's. “To new beginnings,” I whispered.

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