Maybe, though, she shouldn't have told Daphne so much about Madden's personal affairs, about Linda Howard's miscarriages early in their marriage, the details of Candy's divorce, the tension in Marlena and Ray's relationship. Although anyone with eyes could see that the young Howard children looked nothing like Steve, that Candy should've dumped her brute of a husband years before, and that Marlena had had the hots for Roger since they'd been kids. But it was just her personal opinions. Daphne would be gone from Madden in the blink of an eye. Peg decided to put it out of her mind and just enjoy the view: the two pagoda-shaped bird feeders outside of her window, and the lovely breakfast tray Daphne had left by her bed. A bit more rest then she'd get up.
When a searing headache attacked the back of her skull, she reached for the painkillers. She couldn't remember how many she'd already swallowed this morning. Two more couldn't hurt. This was the worst bug she'd ever had.
Old Doc Rimmer was respected in the community the way that you respect an old guard dog. A dog that, simply by existing, has kept thieves at bay for a lifetime, but has never gone out and done anything splashy, like catch a bank robber. In addition to setting bones and writing prescriptions, Dr. Rimmer served the community in many respectable, unexciting ways, such as sitting on the school board. His most notable achievement was serving as chairman when they voted in construction of the new school. He steered the board quietly. “Hard work without hullabaloo” was his motto. When the board wanted to design a plaque in his honour, he refused with a shake of his head.
When it came to raising his only child, though, Dr. Rimmer had been a drowning man. In his day, during the war, there hadn't been all these street drugs. Well, not in the schoolyards of small towns like Madden. When he and Laura realized that the beautiful green palm under the grow light in Roger's bedroom was marijuana and that he was supplying the junior high school, Laura started reading books about drugs while he buried himself in work. It turned out to be the beginning of Roger's long road that ended with hard drugs and the destructive behaviour that went with addiction. The doctor couldn't admit it out loud, could barely admit it to himself, but he was relieved that his son was dead. It had been an exhausting, terrifying twenty-five years. His wife and he could now sleep through the night without worrying. He wished it could have come some other way, that it hadn't had to be so violent, but at least it was over.
Candy was breathing heavily by the time she reached the top of Peg's front stairs. She shifted the box of Co-op pastries to her other arm and knocked with her free hand. There was no answer so she tried the door. It opened easily. The house was silent, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the Chinese wind chime above the door. When she called out, there was no response. There wasn't even a sign of Peg's old cat, Me-Me, who was usually quick to greet guests in anticipation of treats.
Candy made her way down the hallway to Peg's bedroom, making as little noise as possible in case Peg was asleep. She entered, then stumbled backwards in shock, dropping the bakery box. It broke open, scattering pastries across the broadloom. Me-Me was beside the bed greedily eating the remains of Peg's breakfast that had spilled onto the floor.
When Joan arrived at the Rimmers', there were already several cars parked at the curb and in the driveway. One, she noticed, had rental plates. As she walked up the path toward the tidy splitlevel home, a couple of older women were leaving. There was one thing in Madden that hadn't changed. In the event of tragedy, you were never alone, at least for the first while. The casserole brigade bolted into action and tea flowed like the Nile. She remembered how it had been when her dad had died. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she rang the bell and Hazel answered the door.
“C'mon in. Glad you made it.”
Eau d'egg salad assaulted Joan when she stepped into the house. Hazel took Joan's coat and eased the introduction. “Laura, look who's here. It's Joan Parker.”
Mrs. Rimmer, wearing the sagging look of suppressed anguish, fawned over her. “It's good to see Roger's friends here.”
Joan felt like a fraud, but this wasn't the time to correct the mourning mother. She sat down next to Mrs. Rimmer with a plate of shortbread and a cup of Earl Grey.
“Except for the members of his band,” Mrs. Rimmer said, “I never knew who his friends were. I never met any of his girlfriends, not even his wife.”
“Crystal, wasn't it?” asked Joan.
Laura Rimmer nodded. “He didn't tell us that he'd been married until it was over.” She dabbed at a spot on her skirt with a napkin. “I felt badly about it, but it was probably for the best.”
“How long were they married?”
“I'm not sure.” She looked embarrassed. ”It's been over for years. There were no children.”
Throughout Joan's visit, Dr. Rimmer was robotic in his responses, smiling when spoken to, obediently holding his cup out for a top up when the pot came around, but mostly his tired eyes rested on the television, where herds of elephants silently crossed the savannahs of Africa.
Hazel easily navigated her way around the Rimmer house, directing guests to one of three bathrooms and pulling extra cotton napkins from a drawer in the buffet. Joan chalked it up to her friend's experience as a minister. This kind of pastoral visit must be second nature. But when Mrs. Rimmer caught Hazel's arm and requested that she bring her pills to her, Hazel went directly upstairs without asking where to find the medication.
When a chair became vacant beside Roger's father, Joan perched on the edge and leaned over to get his attention.
“Can I get you anything, Dr. Rimmer?”
His automatic response was to shake his head, but then he pursed his lips and really looked at her. “Joan?” he asked.
She nodded, shocked that he recognized her so easily.
“It's good to see you. How is your mother?”
Joan brought him up-to-date, but was surprised that not much was necessary. Not only had Vi been sending Christmas cards, but Dr. and Mrs. Rimmer had had lunch with her in Vancouver.
“Must have been a dozen years ago,” he calculated. “But, when you get to our age, that's like yesterday.” He filled Joan in on their day-to-day lives. Both Mrs. Rimmer and he kept active in the community.
“But you're retired?”
“Trying to be,” he answered. “Stepped down as president of the Rotary last year, but still busy as past-president, and we both volunteer at Mountain View. There are two other doctors in town now, but some of the older patients still call for a second opinion now and then. ”
By the time Joan left him he'd filled in the fine strokes, but they'd never once mentioned his only child.
Later, Joan walked with Hazel to their cars. Here they were, two middle-aged women. So many years had passed. This block-shaped, grey-headed women in African dress was a complete mystery to her. She asked her about her partner, Lila. Joan knew from Gabe that the two women had been together for nearly twenty years, had contemplated marriage. It was a committed relationship.
Hazel hesitated before answering. “We drove up to Madden together, but Lila's cloistered in our hotel room. She's grading papers for the Russian lit class she teaches at UC Berkley.”
Joan suggested that the three of them get together for dinner.
Hazel shook her head. “Lila's grumpy with me at the moment.” She looked at Joan, assessing whether or not to say more. “The reason I didn't get to the opening night reunion bash was because we pulled over to the side of the road to decide if we should end it.”
“End it? You mean the trip?” asked Joan.
“The relationship. The whole bag. She thought I had a thing for Roger. Can you believe that?”
“Did you?” asked Joan. She was beginning to feel like a cop.
Hazel paused before answering. “I went from hating Roger to feeling sorry for him. I guess I did love him, the little boy in him. But not the way you mean or Lila feared. It's my work to be there for people and it's work that I'm cut out for. Keeping their confidences is another part of the job. I'm good at that too.” She put an abundant arm around Joan's shoulder and gave her a friendly squeeze. “I'll see if I can get Lila to quit whining and have dinner. You'll love her. I've always thought that she's a lot like you.”
Joan smiled. “What does that mean?”
“Why, intelligent, honest, a bit of a prig . . . ” Hazel held her at arm's length, “And still hot after all these years.”
As Hazel climbed into her rental car, Joan called out: “How long are you staying?”
“Don't know. The most I can hang around is till mid-week.
How about you?”
“I have no idea,” Joan responded, but she had an overwhelming sense the decision was no longer in her hands.
Peg lived in one of the older neighbourhoods, where boulevards separated the sidewalks from the roads, wide porches overlooked the street, and people still walked to the corner store. It gave Joan comfort to see that some parts of Madden hadn't changed. Peg would be able to clear up the misunderstanding about the invitation list, and then she'd be able to return to Vancouver. As she turned the corner onto Peg's street, an ambulance passed her headed in the opposite direction. Joan's stomach lurched when she saw a police car parked in front of a hot pink bungalow. Candy Dirkson sat on the curb, tears flowing, her generous body heaving with uncontrolled sobbing.
Joan parked and went to her. “The ambulance. Is it Peg?”
Candy nodded. “I haven't been to visit Peg all weekend, after all her hard work to make this reunion happen. She would have had so much fun with us last night. I'm a horrible friend!” she wailed. “And she was probably feeling terrible about what happened to Roger.” Between sobs she tried to describe what had happened when she arrived an hour earlier.
“Me-Me was eating Peg's breakfast.”
“Who's Me-Me?”
“Peg's cat. Peggy was all twisted around.”
“And she was hurt?” asked Joan.
Candy shook her head. “No, Joan. She was dead.”
Ray couldn't believe his luck as he watched Daphne at the end of the bed slowly unhooking the clasp of her bra. When her generous breasts were unleashed, her nipples pointed toward him as though begging for him. He couldn't help but compare them to Marlena's tiny breasts that matched the rest of his wife's boyish, athletic body. Goddamn, Daphne looked great for her age.
They had driven to a motel on the other side of Elgar. He wasn't quite as well known there, and the unkempt young man at the front desk didn't look familiar. The guy didn't seem to give a shit anyway. Unlike a lot of men he knew, Ray wasn't experienced at adultery. Marlena liked sex and besides, basically she scared the shit out of him. She yelled at him if he even told a dirty joke to another woman. When Daphne had come on to him at the gas station that morning, he couldn't resist. How lucky is that, a good-looking broad asking if you want it at nine o'clock in the morning? She even bought him a coffee and muffin. Marlena would never know and Daphne would be gone from town by tomorrow. While driving, she had unzipped his fly and pulled his schlong out of his pants. He'd just about spilled his coffee on her head. Now, straddling him on the motel bed, she was making him crazy by flicking her tongue in and out of his ear.
“You stay in shape to play with the band, Ray?” she whispered. “I heard Marlena stays in shape to play with the band, too.”
Ray corrected her. “Oh, Marlena doesn't play with the band. She just . . . ”
Daphne interrupted, “Maybe not the whole band, but at least one member. One besides yours.”
Before he could respond, she slid her head under the covers. Oh, God! Oh God, this was payback time. Whether or not Marlena had ever screwed Roger, she'd wanted to. Ray knew it. Everyone knew it. Even Daphne knew it, and she'd been in town less than a week. That hurt.
When Joan returned to the resort she went into the hotel lobby to let the staff know that she wouldn't be rushing off. The front desk clerk was glad that not all of the customers were being chased away by the murder. Joan nodded robotically. It wasn't her place to start spreading the word about Peg's death. She'd left a message for Gabe and was afraid to say anything until they talked. Her stomach grumbled and she was light-headed. Although she didn't feel hungry, she had to eat something if she was going to keep her mind clear. She was heading toward the dining room for lunch when the clerk called, “Oh, Miss!”
She turned.
“I forgot to tell you. I put calls through to your room while you were out. One of them sounded urgent.”
Her cell had been on silent when she visited the Rimmers. She turned it on. Still no reception. She wandered the lobby until two green bars appeared on her phone. Wedged between the front desk and a potted fern, she checked her voicemail. The first message was from Mort.
“Hey, babe, just checking in. You sounded stressed earlier. Let's talk about it.”
The second call was from work. It had to be important for Ted to call on a Sunday. His message was brusque. Tony was having difficulty figuring out her market analysis and could she please call.
The last message was from Gabe. He'd be busy for the next couple of days and didn't know when he'd get to see her. He didn't mention Peg but she assumed that was one of the cases now consuming him. He asked her not to leave town without letting him know. “It's a personal request, Joan, not an official one.”
She punched in the number to Constellation Inc. reception, then the three digits to reach Tony's direct line.
“Hey there, it's Joan. What's up?” Tony admitted he was lost. As she listened it became clear that, as she suspected, she needed to be there to finalize the project paperwork or there would be delays in launching Hint of Midnight in the Southeast Asian market. Ted wanted Joan to come back as soon as possible. She glanced at her watch then across the lobby. Time-zone calculations clicked through her mind. If she left now she'd be back in Vancouver by dinnertime. She and Tony could work through the night then email the documentation to their Mumbai lawyer before he left his office. She could feel her heart start to race. This was her usual cue to run back, not because of how badly they needed her but from her underlying fear that they'd find out that they didn't.