The Coach House (38 page)
And then it hit her.
Karen could be in cahoots with Richard. Here she was spilling her guts out to her, and she may be the conduit to him. Maybe that’s how Richard knew where to find her, and wouldn’t it be convenient to have someone close to her feeding him information about her every move? Maybe that’s why she hadn’t heard from him in such a long time. For the time being, maybe he was content with just knowing what Marie was up to.
What have I been doing?
What did she really know about Karen anyway? She couldn’t think of any suspicious behavior on her part, but she could be a good actress. But then there was that mobster cousin of hers. And she was good friends with Lulu.
What a fool I’ve been.
Her insides churned.
Marie stewed about it for days, constantly looking for clues when she was with Karen. She internally analyzed her every question and scrutinized her every move.
The dark cold days of winter slowly turned to spring, and Marie was still bothered by Karen’s possible involvement with Richard. But she had a plan.
“Karen, do you want to take in a movie this weekend?
All the King’s Men
is playing.”
“Sure. What’s it about?”
“Gee, I’m not sure,” Marie lied. “But it’s supposed to be good.”
Marie led Karen to the far left side of the theater and sat in the seat next to the wall, requiring her to turn her body slightly toward Karen in order to look at the screen. She kept one eye on the big screen and the other on Karen’s face throughout the whole movie.
Jack Burden (played by John Ireland) was a newspaper reporter who first hears of Willie Stark (played by Broderick Crawford) when on assignment. Willie is running for county treasurer. Burden watches Stark deliver a speech while his son passes out handbills, a sweet picture to be sure. Stark loses the race for treasurer, but later makes his way through law school, becoming an idealistic attorney who fights for what is good. Another wholesome scenario. Wanting all the better things in life, he gets mixed up with shady characters, and his once wide-eyed innocence takes a turn downward into corruption.
Marie studied Karen’s face in each relevant scene but saw no evidence of whatever she thought might rise to the surface of her face if she was guilty of anything. They talked about the film afterwards at Lund’s.
“Did you enjoy it…with Richard and all?” Karen asked. “I mean, didn’t it bring back bad memories?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just a movie, after all. Did you like it?”
“I did, but I don’t know how anyone could go from such an honest small-town family man to such a jerk. How does someone all of a sudden lose all their scruples like that?”
Feeling a bit unscrupulous herself, Marie studied Karen’s face for signs of deception or hypocrisy, but Karen was merely acting like Karen. Eating normally. Talking normally. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Marie stayed fixated on her friend’s face. “Wasn’t that an interesting scene where Broderick Crawford uses his son to get votes?” Marie asked.
Yeah, just like Richard is using you to get to me.
“Interesting? That was pathetic, involving a sweet innocent child like that. What a scumbag.”
“I suppose you can’t operate in a complete vacuum when you’re on the take.”
“What’s wrong?” Karen asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
“What way?”
“Like a viper ready to strike.”
Marie sat back in her chair and relaxed, suddenly feeling utterly stupid and contrite. Her best friend…and after all she had done for her. “I’m sorry, Karen. Maybe that film affected me after all. Or maybe it’s the date.”
“What date?”
“Today is the one-year anniversary of my leaving Richard. Do you want to come back to my place for a nightcap?”
“Do you have to ask?”
* * *
Marie settled into a comfortable routine. The economy was strong. Unemployment was low. Life was good.
While she didn’t feel outwardly endangered, Marie remained on the lookout for anyone who appeared to be a threat, especially the short fat cigar-smoking man. One such occasion was on a Sunday afternoon when Marie and Wayne Sr. were sitting on the bench in front of the coach house.
They talked about cars. Marie had asked Wayne a while back to keep her in mind if he ever ran across an affordable decent car. Wayne was describing a used 1946 Ford sedan to her that he had recently acquired, when a policeman walked up the driveway toward them.
Marie sat up straighter on the bench and pulled her shoulders back, trying to look confident and relaxed despite the sudden weight she suddenly felt in the pit of her stomach. As the policeman got closer, her heart pounded high in her chest.
Just act normal.
“Hi, Ed. How’s it goin’?” Wayne asked the policeman.
“It’s a good day, Wayne.” He shot a glance at Marie. “Everything is just fine. I didn’t expect to find you here. How come you’re not working today?”
“Well, the missus wanted the family to go for a ride in the country this afternoon, so I closed the station for the day. You know it
kills
me to do that. Ed, this is Marie Costa. She lives in the coach house. Marie, this is our next door neighbor, Ed Peterson.”
Marie smiled and extended her hand to Ed. “Nice to meet you, Ed.” She struggled to get the words out. “It’s nice to know we have a policeman living next door.”
No, it’s not. It’s frightening to know we have a policeman living next door.
She wondered if he was aware of the incident she had at the Atchison police station. It was a small station. He probably did.
He probably knows my every move.
“Well, this is a pretty sleepy little town. You really have nothing to worry about.” He studied her face. “Where did you live before here?”
“Chicago.”
“Well, you’ll find this town a lot different from Chicago. What part of the city did you live in?”
She didn’t trust him. “It was actually pretty quiet where I lived.”
He turned his attention back to Wayne. “Listen, the reason I came over was to borrow your hand drill. I’ve got a screen door that needs to be replaced, and my drill broke.”
“Sure, I’ve got one in here someplace.” He led Ed into the middle garage.
Marie remained on the bench, took in a deep breath of air, and wondered if it would ever get any easier. When Wayne returned, they finished talking about the car. She was about to go back to her apartment when she saw that Ed had stopped to talk to a man on the sidewalk in front of the Edwards’s house. When Ed moved to one side, the man came into full view. Short and stout. No cigar. They shook hands and went their separate ways.
Wayne interrupted her thoughts.
“So when would you like to see it?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“The car. When would you like to see it?”
They made arrangements for Marie to see the car the following day.
* * *
“Do you want to go see
It Happens Every Spring
this weekend?” Marie asked Karen. “I’ll pick you up in my new car!” Wayne had come through with the Ford. It had a few dents and bruises on the outside, but he assured her the engine was in perfect running condition.
The lighthearted baseball comedy starred Ray Milland as Vernon Simpson, who accidentally develops a product that when rubbed on a baseball allows a pitcher to strike out every batter he faces. He tries out as a pitcher for a major-league team and becomes the star player. In the final scene, Milland runs out of his magical chemical and has to pitch without it.
Partway through the film, two ushers, followed by a policeman, came through the theater waving their tiny flashlights in the crowd. They started at the front of the theater and worked their way back. “Calm down,” Karen whispered to Marie. “I can hear your heart beating way over here.”
Marie stared straight ahead at the movie screen. But when the ushers and policeman came back up the aisle empty-handed, her palms started to sweat. She pretended to look for something in her purse. She felt their flashlights pass across her face. It was only when they were gone, she started to breathe again.
As Marie and Karen left the movie theater, the same policeman was outside with two young boys who were now joined by their parents. He was giving them a lecture about sneaking into the theater.
“See, it turned out to be nothing,” Karen said.
“I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier…believe me.”
“How would you like to go to San Francisco with me?” Karen asked Marie. “My aunt lives there and lets me stay in her house whenever she travels, and she’s going to visit her brother for a week. Want to go?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to!” She hadn’t traveled anywhere since leaving Richard, and she missed it.
Karen’s aunt picked them up at the San Francisco airport. The three of them spent the rest of the day visiting. The following morning, they drove Karen’s aunt to the airport and then headed for Fisherman’s Wharf. For the next three days, Marie and Karen did all the things that typical tourists do. They rode on cable cars, drove up and down Lombard Street, visited the Cliff House, strolled around Knob Hill, and toured several historic mansions.
“Thanks for helping me pack, by the way,” Karen said to Marie as they headed for the boardwalk. “I had forgotten all about the clothes tucked way in the back of my closet.”
“That dress looks so good on you. Why haven’t you worn it?”
Karen didn’t respond.
“Karen?”
“I haven’t worn it since Ed died.”
“How come?”
Marie could tell Karen was getting uncomfortable with their conversation.
“Put all my nice clothes away after he died. I didn’t…”
“What is it, hon?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you look great in that dress, and if you ask me, I think you should bring all of those clothes to the front of your closet and start wearing them again.” She glanced at Karen who was staring straight ahead. “I know you didn’t ask me, but…”
“It’s just that Ed used to pick out clothes for me and would make me feel good in them. Now…”
“Now, what?”
“I just try to blend in with the background, and then there aren’t any expectations.”
Marie took hold of Karen’s arm. “We both need to change, my dear.”
As they strolled down the boardwalk at Fisherman’s Wharf, breathing in the moist salty sea air, Marie realized for the first time since she left Richard, she didn’t think about him when out in public. “This is so nice,” she told Karen. “Maybe I
should have
relocated clear across the country from him. I feel so liberated here.”
“And what? Miss out being with me?”
They came across a fortune teller sitting at a rickety card table at the edge of the grass. Her crudely made sign read, FORTUNES $3.
“Let’s go,” Karen said. Marie rolled her eyes and followed her.
The woman was middle-aged but looked older, with skin like an orange that had been left out in the hot sun, her upper lip severely creased, and her hands markedly veined. She was far too thin and dressed like she had put together her outfit from a Salvation Army store. Her straggly brown hair covered parts of her large vacant eyes. Karen sat down on the only other chair at the table and handed her three dollars.
“Give me one of your earrings,” the woman ordered in a low gravelly voice. Karen obliged her. The woman looked at Marie and barked, “Can’t you stand farther away? This is private.” Marie backed off several feet and leaned up against a tree where she watched two sea gulls vigorously fight over a crust of stale bread while Karen had her fortune told.
Fifteen minutes passed. The losing gull was screeching so loudly, Marie couldn’t have overheard the fortune teller’s words to Karen if she had tried. When they were done, Karen sported a big smile. “Okay, you’re next.”
“I really don’t want to do it,” Marie whispered. “She gives me the creeps.”
