Spin a Wicked Web (16 page)

She laughed. "Justin's the tall one in the red shirt. Belongs to
the neighbor down the road. He might as well be mine, though, as
much time as he spends here."

The shop was in what I'd thought was a barn. No horses, just
horsepower. Inside, the concrete floor was pristine. Three cars
awaited Rocky's attention, and the fourth hunkered over a pit in
the middle of the floor.

"Dang it!" a male voice said from somewhere. "Gabi, that you?
Grab that clutch spring compressor and bring it over here."

She smiled at me and went to an array of tools on a bench
along one wall, searching with her eyes. "I don't see it. Oh, wait a minute, here it is." She hefted an awkward and arcane-looking
contraption and walked around to the far side of the pit.

"Hey honey," Gabi said. "Ariel's friend from the co-op is here."

Rocky came around from the other side of the car, eyebrows
raised. He was about five-ten, with dark, prematurely thinning hair
and a hooked nose. Muscles roped through his arms and across his
bare chest and abdomen.

"Hiya," he said, holding out a grimy hand. Then he flushed,
pulled it back and began wiping it on a greasy rag. "Sorry. Occupational hazard."

"No problem," I assured him. Fishing in my oversized tote bag,
I found the sympathy card. "I brought the paintings Ariel had on
display at the co-op. And this." I held out the envelope.

He took it, carefully drew out the card, and opened it. He
looked at it for a long time. His eyes moved from one signature to
another, and back again. At last he looked up, and his face was
wet.

"I didn't know she had so many friends. Thank you."

I swallowed, feeling like a big, fat liar. "You're very welcome."

A quick glance at Gabi. She was focused on her husband, face
pinched with distress.

"Ariel was the artistic one," Rocky said. "She was the one in the
family who got all the talent. I just know how to fix things." He
looked at the ground and shook his head, smiling.

I was at a complete loss as to what to say; any response was
bound to come across as insincere. For the gazillionth time I wished
I was better at prevarication.

Luckily, Gabi stepped in. "You're a better mechanic than your
sister was an artist, and you always were."

"Don't talk about her like that, Gabi." Grief laced the words.
He turned to me. "She was a wonderful artist. And she was just as
good as me at fixing cars and stuff. We were restoring that '69
Cougar there, together." He gestured to a maroon street rod in the
corner. "Hadn't had much of a chance to work on it in the last
year or so. She couldn't come up to visit much, and I only work
on it when she's here."

We all spent awhile looking at the half-finished vehicle on
blocks, pieces and parts arranged precisely on the tarp around it. I
had a sudden flash that the car would become a mechanical
shadow of Miss Haversham. I saw it a hundred years in the future,
in exactly the same place, rusted, covered with dust and cobwebs,
waiting for Ariel to come back and help her brother put it together
again.

Rocky walked a couple steps away, as if unable to look at the
Cougar anymore. The movement shook me out of my daze.

"I had no idea Ariel was mechanically inclined," I said.

His small smile didn't reach his eyes. "She didn't look like that
kind of girl, she was so little and pretty, but she could take an engine apart and put it back together, have it running like a kitten in
no time."

"Was it just the two of you?" I asked. "Any other brothers or
sisters?"

"Nope. Just us. For years we only had one another, after both
of our parents were killed in a car wreck."

"That must have been horrible. How old were you?"

"I was twenty-one," Rocky said. "Ariel was sixteen."

Right. She'd mentioned that when she more or less said Chris
should just get over Scott's death. "That must have been especially
difficult for her, so young," I said.

"It was hard on both of us. But I took care of her, and we got
through it." The last words were clipped, and he moved farther
away.

His nerves were already raw, and in my enthusiasm to understand Ariel I'd apparently overstepped the bounds of tactful behavior once again.

"I'm sorry," I said.

He smiled and shook his head. "That's okay. It's kind of hard to
talk about right now, is all."

"Of course."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then opened them
again as if making a decision. "Do you know who found her?"

Oh, God. "Um, yeah."

He waited.

"I'm afraid it was me."

His eyes widened. "Oh!"

WELL, I HAVE TO tell you, I'd be hard pressed to find a more awkward moment than that. We both looked anywhere but at each
other.

Finally, Rocky said, "Well, maybe it's not good to speak too
much of the dead."

Not quite what I'd been hoping for this trip, but understandable. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and it was obviously too
soon to quiz him about his sister.

"A police detective came yesterday, with all kinds of questions.
Horrible questions. I can't do it anymore." He mopped his face
with the grimy rag. "I mean, how could anyone have done that-"
His voice cracked, and he turned away.

"I'm so sorry," I said yet again.

He nodded, silent.

Gabi indicated the door with a jab of her chin. Once she and I
were outside again, she said, "He doesn't like people to see him so
upset."

"Of course," I said. "Maybe you could help me unload Ariel's
art, and I'll be on my way."

"Why don't you take it back to the co-op and sell it and then
send us the money," Gabi said, her voice laced with bitterness.

I'm sure my surprise showed on my face.

"She owed us a lot," Gabi said in a confiding tone.

So much for not speaking about the dead.

"Well," I said. "You might be able to sell one of the pieces. There's
a note on one of them from someone who's interested in buying it."

Rocky's voice came from behind us. "I want that art. Every single piece if it. Just show me where it is."

Gabi shook her head and walked toward the house. I led him
around to my truck and opened the topper. I reached for a painting.

"I'll take care of them. You go ahead in the house and have
Gabi get you something to drink," he said.

I didn't mention his wife had already plied me with cider, but
obediently turned around and walked toward the front steps.

"Miz Reynolds?"

I turned.

"I'm sorry if I sounded rude. I want you to know how much I
appreciate you driving these all the way up here."

"No problem at all," I said. I watched him fumble with one of
the large canvases for a moment, but couldn't think of anything to
say that would make any difference at all. I turned and went into
the house.

I found Gabi sitting back at the kitchen table, working away on
the pile of pea pods. Her face was red, her hands a blur.

I sat down and reached for another handful. "I'm sorry if I
upset your husband."

"Oh, heck. I'm the one upset him, not you. I have a hard time
keeping my mouth shut about that sister of his, even now. He
wouldn't stand for it when she was alive, either." Her expression
was strained with worry. "I guess now we'll never see that money."

I looked around the kitchen. The parts of the house I'd seen so
far were clean, but well-worn. The vinyl in front of the sink was
torn and the curtains were faded. I didn't know how much land
they were able to devote to the tulip bulbs, or how much Rocky
was able to bring in with his mechanical work, but the budget here
seemed pretty tight.

"If it helps at all," I said, "I don't think keeping the art at the
co-op would do much good. It wasn't exactly flying out the door. I
doubt that you'd have seen much money from it, anyway."

Gabi's laugh was sharp. "Well, that figures. Ariel and Rocky
were the only ones who ever thought she was any good."

"Well, I'm not saying she was bad," I hedged. "Just not, you
know, popular with the buyers. It's possible she'd have sold more if
the prices hadn't been quite so high."

The look she gave me said she didn't believe me. "Let me tell
you a little something about Ariel." Another handful of peas
rained into the bowl. "She was a slut."

I paused in my pea shelling, jarred by how she grated out the
word.

"Oh, I know. I'm not supposed to talk about her like that. But
if you knew her at all you'd know I'm telling the truth. Are you
married?"

I shook my head.

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes"

"Well, I sure hope you didn't let him spend much time around
her, because men were idiots whenever she was around, and that
girl knew how to take advantage of it."

"I'm not sure what you mean. Oh, I know she was pretty popular with the male of the species, but how did she take advantage?" I
caught myself starting to lean forward in eagerness and forced myself to sit back in my chair.

"Every which way she could," Gabi said. "I've known that family forever, grew up on the place next to here."

"Rocky married the girl next door."

She smiled. "Yep. We were meant for each other from the start."

"So you knew his sister very well."

"Too well. Here's an example of what I mean: in high school,
she had an English teacher, name of Randolph Owens. Made the
kids read, lots and lots, as part of his class. Ariel didn't like having
to read a lot-too boring, too much work, and she sure didn't like
being told exactly what she was supposed to read. So she didn't do
it. Tried to fake it in class, got some CliffsNotes, you know the drill.
But she wasn't clever enough to pull it off, and everyone in class
knew she hadn't done any of the reading, including Mr. Owens.
Heck, she even talked about it."

I glued an interested look on my face and shelled faster. So
Ariel was lazy. That wasn't exactly a news flash.

"But she got an A in that class," Gabi continued. "She and Mr.
Owens had an `arrangement,' if you know what I mean. He lost his
job over it."

Well, that was news. "That's terrible," I said.

"Now don't be thinking she was some kind of victim. She seduced him, and she did it because his class was hard, and she didn't want to do the work in order to get a good grade. And she needed
the good grade in order to up her GPA and get into college. Not
that it did much good, since once she got into college she just
turned around and dropped out. Maybe the professors there
weren't as easy to manipulate.

"She was a user. She used people to get what she wanted, and if
that meant she had to sleep with them, well, that didn't seem to
bother her one bit. Didn't have much use for women in general,
since her charm was somewhat lost on them. But still, there were
those who saw how little and cute she was and wanted to mommy
her, take care of the little thing. She wasn't above using that, either."

"But she didn't fool you," I said.

"Not for long. But her brother, my darling husband, who is
just about the sweetest man on this planet in my opinion, well,
she played him like a fiddle their whole lives. He's five years older'n
her, but she managed him like I manage this mangy mutt here."
She chucked the German shepherd under the chin as if it were a
child.

"That's sad, in a way," I said. "People like that don't usually
have a lot of friends. I imagine she was pretty lonely."

Gabi blinked. "I never really thought about it that way, but I
guess you're right. 'Course she had that friend from high school.
Lindsey. Thick as thieves then, and I know they're still in contact."

"Lindsey," I repeated. "I think she might have mentioned her."
A bald-faced lie, that, but Gabi didn't seem to notice.

"Lindsey Drucker. Still lives here, just down Bowers Road.
She's married now. She and Ariel were awful close, but they sure
took different paths in life. Lindsey seems happy enough with the
one she chose."

The back door opened and the kitchen filled with loud boy
voices clamoring for a snack. Gabi rose and fetched a gallon of
milk and a cookie jar packed to the top with old-fashioned chocolate chip cookies.

"All right, you heathens. Go out and eat on the porch, where I
can just sweep up after your mess." Loading each child with a plastic
glass of milk and a handful of cookies, she shooed them out of the
house. They seemed content enough to go, taking Tut with them.

"Don't you feed that dog any cookies," Gabi called. "If he eats
chocolate he'll die."

She sat back down and gave me a sheepish grin. "I know it
would just make him sick, as much chocolate as is in those cookies, but I've learned by now that boys don't do so well with subtle
differences like that. Here, have a cookie."