The Goodbye Body (3 page)

“Continue,” I said to Caron.

“Well, we heated up some pizza and ate it while we watched some totally bizarre cooking show. Then we changed into bathing suits and went out to the patio. I took the cordless phone and called Carrie and Ashley to see if they wanted to come over for hamburgers, but neither of them was home. I suppose they were at Rhonda’s house, kissing up to the cheerleaders.”

“Or shopping at the mall,” Inez added wistfully. “My mother won’t let me buy any school clothes until the sales start in September.”

“And then … ?” I said, poking Caron.

“Inez and I decided to look around the yard. We found some rafts and a beach ball in the little shed with the pump and chemicals and stuff. Then we went behind the gazebo, and that’s when we saw the dead guy stretched out on the ground.” She held up her hand before I could interrupt, which I was intending to do. “He was kinda short and bald, with pudgy cheeks, wire-rimmed glasses, and a crooked nose. His eyes were wide open and he had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Trust me, Mother, he wasn’t taking a nap.”

“How close did you get?” I asked.

She gave me a level look. “Close enough to see he was dead. We ran back to house, locked the doors, dialed 911, then called you. When the cops showed up, I told them where the guy was. They came back in about two minutes and said they hadn’t found anybody or anything. Then again, I doubt they could find the pool without a map.”

“And that’s when you arrived,” said Inez.

She’d stopped hiccuping, but she was shivering and both of them looked distressingly pale. “Go upstairs and take hot showers,” I said. “I’ll talk to the police officers and have them do a more careful search of the yard.”

“You don’t think we’re making this up, do you?” Caron asked me in a voice reminiscent of elementary-school days.

I tried not to think of the times she’d come home and regaled me with tales of lions lurking behind bushes, kidnappers posing as crossing guards, and cafeteria ladies recruited from Siberian prison camps. “I believe you saw something very peculiar,” I said carefully. I gave them each a hug and sent them upstairs, then went out to talk to the police officers.

Although it was an excellent plan, it did not come to fruition in that the officers and their vehicle were gone. Harrumphing under my breath, I went back through the house and onto the patio. It all seemed quite idyllic. I located the shed and glanced inside, where I saw the pool equipment and anticipated accouterments. The gazebo was octagonal, made of redwood siding and roofed with cedar shakes. I continued behind it, where the ground was covered with pine needles and speckled with shadows. Wildflowers tolerant of shade grew in abundance. I studied the ground for any signs of blood or indentations, but saw nothing more suspicious than pinecones and twigs.

Midway along the back wall was an arched opening with a wrought-iron gate. The gate creaked painfully as I opened it. Beyond the wall was an unpaved alley, somewhat overgrown but obviously still in use. A shortcut for those residents farther up the hill, I surmised without much mental exertion. However, it did mean that someone could have come into the yard through the gate and, if not too terribly dead, left in the same fashion. A dearly departed, so to speak. Caron had sworn his eyes were wide open, but he could have been experiencing a severe panic attack or some sort of seizure. The bullet hole in his forehead could have been nothing more than a smudge of dirt. He’d been strolling down the alley, felt faint, and for some reason came in through the gate to recuperate for a moment. Caron hadn’t admitted that she and Inez screeched, but it was probable. Justifiably alarmed, the man had picked himself up, dusted off his trousers, and slipped away. I was sure the police offices had already written up a report saying as much.

Or, on the other hand, something very odd had occurred.

Well, he has to live in the neighborhood,” I said to Peter as we sat on the patio that evening, idly watching swallows swoop and dive for unwary insects.

“And why is that?”

“It’s hard to imagine that this man would drive over here, park in the alley, and come into the yard for a little snooze in the middle of the afternoon. He had to have been on foot. Otherwise, why not just pick a shady spot in the park, which, among other things, is public property?”

Peter pulled another beer out of the cooler. “We definitely need a backyard like this. I can just see you curled up on cushions in the gazebo, reading Proust as you waft away the mosquitoes with your fan. I’ll insist on a hairy, unintelligible pool boy, though. I wouldn’t want you to find yourself gazing at some young hunk’s rippling, bronzed muscles as he skims—”

“Did you check the missing-persons report before you left the office?”

“Yes, dear,” he said with a sigh. “You’ll be pleased to know that all the citizens of Farberville are accounted for except a junior high school girl who skipped her piano lesson and may have run off with her ne’er-do-well boyfriend. No one has reported the inexplicable absence of an elderly man with wire-rimmed glasses and a crooked nose.” He popped open the beer and leaned back. “Isn’t it more likely that he was a drunk who wandered by and thought the pine needles looked inviting? Assuming the sliding glass doors to the house were closed, he would have had no reason to think anybody was at home.”

“Caron was convinced he was dead,” I said. “She and Inez were both seriously upset.”

“If he got up and left, he wasn’t dead. Maybe he does this every afternoon, and Dolly just forgot to mention it to you.”

I ate a slice of salami while I thought this over. The plate of antipasto I’d prepared lacked Dolly’s artistic flair, but I’d been touched by her romantic vision. I wondered if Peter and I would feel that way about each other after twenty-five years of marriage. Or one, for that matter. In the past, he’d been more than irritated when I’d taken it upon myself to assist in various murder investigations, and even more so when I’d arrived at the correct solution. He’d gone so far as to use the word
meddlesome
on occasion. And had my car impounded not once, but twice.

“Dolly wouldn’t forget to mention it, but I suppose you’re right,” I conceded gracefully. “Do you want to swim while I see to the hamburgers?” I caught his leer and added, “The girls went for a drive, but they’ll be back any minute.”

“Later, then,” he murmured as he stood up and went over to examine the gleaming gas grill. “Who ever said only boys want toys? You could roast a cow in this thing.”

I picked up the antipasto platter. “Perhaps we will, one burger at a time.”

Caron and Inez were not convivial companions while we ate dinner on the patio, responding in monosyllables to questions. Peter’s attempt at a joke about the missing body was met with frigid stares. After we’d all taken the plates and bowls to the kitchen, he said goodnight and left for a warmer environment. I wished I could do the same, but instead told the girls I’d finish cleaning up and sent them to the den.

After I’d tucked away the leftovers and put the silverware and dishes in the restaurant-sized dishwasher, I decided to go upstairs and read in relative tranquillity. The machine-gun fire was blasting away as I reached the staircase, but the sound that caught my attention was the doorbell.

Wondering if Peter had left his beeper by the pool, I opened the front door. Two girls were standing on the porch, shifting impatiently. One had short blond hair, pouty lips emphasized by cerise lipstick, and the physical endowments of a
Playboy
cover girl (or perhaps a centerfold; such things were beyond my realm of expertise). The second girl presented a more mature demeanor, with dark hair that fell below her shoulders and a shrewd, appraising expression.

“Is Dolly here?” asked the blonde.

I must have looked blank, because the dark-haired girl said, “Dolly Goforth? This is her house, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s her house,” I said, “but she isn’t here. I’m Claire Malloy.”

The blonde stared at me. “And … ?”

I felt as though I was being challenged to explain before they took the matter to the authorities, who would pull out the rubber hoses and force a confession. “She’s out of town. I’m house-sitting.” They continued to stare, so I said, “It’s like babysitting, only in this case the baby has three and a half bathrooms and a Jacuzzi.”

The girls stepped back and had a whispered conversation that was interspersed with suspicious glances in my direction. It was obvious they were both distressed, and the blonde went so far as to wipe away a tear before she looked at me and said, “This is really awful. How long will she be gone?”

“About two weeks,” I said, not especially impressed. Sixteen years with Caron has given me a high threshold for melodramatics. “She went to visit relatives in Dallas.”

“I’m Madison Hayes, and this is my cousin, Sara Louise Santini. Dolly invited us to come see her whenever we could, so we just tossed our stuff in the car and decided to surprise her. We’ve been driving for two days. It was okay until Sara Louise’s car broke down about twenty miles from Farberville. We had the car towed, then took a cab here.”

Sara Louise frowned. “My car did not break down, Madison. You snapped off the key in the ignition switch. It seems there is no Maserati dealership in this town. The guy at the garage said it’ll take him a few days to get a replacement.” She growled under her breath, then looked at me. “Can you recommend a cheap hotel?”

“Not sleazy, though,” said Madison. “Last night we stayed at a horrible place where some pervert kept scratching on our door all night. I was too terrified to close my eyes. Sara Louise locked herself in the bathroom.”

I noticed two bulging backpacks at the edge of the driveway. “Why don’t you bring your things inside and we’ll try to clear this up? Dolly left a number where she can be reached in Dallas.”

“That’s really kind of you,” said Madison, then recoiled so abruptly that she and Sara Louise nearly tumbled off the porch as a sputter of gunfire ripped through the house. “Who’s here? What the hell is going on?”

“My daughter and her friend are watching old movies.” I herded them inside and led them to the kitchen. With the door closed, the violence emanating from the den was muted, if not entirely inaudible. “It seems Bibi was fond of gangster movies, where the hills may have been alive with the sound of music but the cast most assuredly was not by the time the credits rolled. Would you like a sandwich or something to drink?”

Sara Louise sank onto a stool. “I’d love almost anything, Ms. Malloy. We shared a sandwich while we waited for the tow truck, but that was all we’ve had to eat today. Do you have white wine?”

I took an opened bottle from a shelf in the refrigerator, along with whatever I could find for sandwiches, and set it all on the island in the center of the room. “Please help yourselves while I find the phone number Dolly left.” I went back to the hall, where I could hear Big Al warning Stinky that he’d be swimming with the sharks if he didn’t cough up the goods. I retrieved the pad of paper and the cordless phone, and retreated to the kitchen. Madison and Sara Louise had located wineglasses (it might have taken me weeks) and were assembling thick sandwiches. Neither acknowledged my presence as I sat down and dialed the number.

A haughty mechanical voice informed me that the number was no longer in service and that I ought to dial more carefully in the future. I did so, and listened to the same message, which this time seemed to drip with contempt at my ineptitude. “That’s odd,” I said as I put down the receiver. “Dolly must have written down the number incorrectly. Do you know her sister’s name?”

Madison shook her head. “Sorry, but we don’t really know much of anything about her before she married Uncle Bibi. I think she was from the Midwest. One of those states that begins with a vowel.”

“So you were among the nieces and nephews who spent summers at the lake with them,” I said. “That must have been a pleasant vacation.”

Sara Louise poured me a glass of wine and slid it across the tile surface. “Yeah, we always had a great time. Uncle Bibi used to insist that we watch those very same movies with him. He wouldn’t believe me when I told him that they gave me nightmares. Maybe that’s why I ended up studying international banking. Numbers are very quiet.”

“Where did you go to school?” I asked.

“Yale, and then the London School of Economics. London’s a marvelous city, isn’t it?”

Not wishing to expose my lack of savoir faire, I looked at Madison. “And you?”

“Drakestone, a liberal arts college in the wilds of Connecticut,” she said. “After my parents heard about Sara Louise’s escapades, they wanted to keep me closer to home. I did do a year in Europe after I graduated, but I was chaperoned every step of the way. Most of it was really boring, like being forced to watch other people’s slides from their summer vacation, with their grubby children sneering on the steps of old cathedrals and their fat wives teetering on malnourished donkeys. The only way I survived was to slip away for torrid trysts with unwashed peasants and Australians in tight shorts. Aunt Gabby would have choked on her dentures if she’d known.”

“I guess we’d better figure out what to do “ I said. “I wish Dolly had told me that you were coming. I’m reluctant to invite you to stay here, since it’s not my house.”

Sara Louise managed a sickly smile. “We understand, Ms. Malloy. If you’ll call a cab for us, we’ll find someplace to stay until my car’s repaired.”

“As long as it doesn’t have any perverts,” added Madison, again looking teary. “I’m so exhausted that I could sleep on a bench.”

“Get over it,” Sara Louise said as she finished her wine and stood up. “If it has deadbolts on the door and a decent shower, we’ll be fine. I told you we should have called first, but you swore Dolly would be delighted to see us. I’ll call home tomorrow and ask my father to send some money.”

“He and your mother are in Hong Kong,” Madison said sulkily. “My father doesn’t even know that we took off on a crazy whim, and I’m not about to tell him. The last time I pulled something like this, I was threatened with a convent school.”

“You were fifteen and you skipped off to Bimini with the golf pro’s son.”

“Wasn’t that while you were in rehab?”

I let them bicker while I tried to come to a decision. They were Bibi’s nieces, if not Dolly’s, and she had invited them to visit her. She’d impulsively gone to see her sister as a favor to me because of my predicament. It seemed harsh to force them to suffer the consequences.

“How about this?” I said, cutting off a discussion of the golf pro’s son’s virtues in matters of sexual prowess. “You can stay here until your car is ready. There are two unoccupied bedrooms upstairs and more than enough food and beverages to keep all of us content for a decade. You can lie out by the pool or watch movies with Caron and Inez. If Dolly happens to call, you can explain the situation to her.”

Madison put her hand on her chest. “Are you sure? We really don’t want to be a bother, but I just don’t know what else we can do. I promise we’ll stay out of the way, Ms. Malloy. You won’t even know we’re here.”

“How could she not know we’re here?” Sara Louise said tartly. “She just now told us we can stay. Do you think she has short-term memory problems?”

I wished I did. “Why don’t you take your backpacks up stairs and get settled in? I’m afraid you’ll have to share a bathroom. The girls are in the master bedroom at one end of the hall, and I’m at the other end. I’ll have to leave early in the morning, but you can sleep in and introduce yourselves when you come downstairs. Ignore the machine-gun fire as best you can.”

“I could sleep through a terrorist attack in Timbuktu,” said Madison. She and Sara Louise repeated their gratitude, then went upstairs, murmuring to each other.

I had no idea what Caron and Inez would make of the situation. They might be intrigued by the glamour of Europe and its trappings of sophistication, or they might feel as if their two weeks at Farberville’s version of a stately home would lose its enchantment with the intrusion of those who’d stayed in the real thing. I considered warning them before I went to bed, but instead tidied up the kitchen (for the second time, I might add), turned off the light, switched on the alarm system, and retreated to bed with a book.

Late the following morning I found out exactly what Caron and Inez had made of the situation, and it wasn’t pretty.

“They are Utterly Intolerable,” Caron announced as she sat down on the stool behind the counter at the Book Depot. “They’re like … like older versions of Rhonda Maguire, but with perfect teeth and pretentious accents. What’s more, they treated us like housemaids. I kept waiting for the blond one to ask me to do her dirty laundry. You have to make them go away, Mother, preferably to someplace in Africa where cannibalism is practiced on a daily basis!”

“What do you think, Inez?” I asked.

“Well, I suppose they thought they were being nice, but they left a mess in the kitchen, and when they got back—”