“The demon and the zombie,” she said, because, of course, I’d already told her the whole story. “And you think they’re trying to kill you so that you won’t have the chance to use this sword thing?”
“That’s my best guess.”
“See, I’m thinking that would have been a really nice segue into telling Stuart.”
“Yes, but then I would have missed out on making out like a teenager in the back of a movie theater.”
“Excuse me?”
Okay, so I hadn’t told her the
whole
story.
She cleared her throat.
I looked at her sideways. “What?”
She twirled her hand, urging me to talk. “Come on, Kate. You can’t drop a bomb like a movie make-out session and then not follow through. I don’t have the rule book with me, but I’m certain that violates at least ten different regulations regarding the handling of gossip within a friendship.”
I laughed. “Okay, fair enough. Let’s just say that Stuart was more attentive last night than he has been in quite a while. At the restaurant, at the movie, and after we got home.”
“How nice for you,” she said, her eyebrows rising as her mouth twitched with the makings of a smile.
“Very,” I agreed.
“Really?” she asked, quirking a brow. “Even if all this attention is because he’s picking up on your vibe?”
“I have a vibe?”
“Your dead ex-husband has come back to life. You’re sneaking around behind your current husband’s back to see your ex. We’ve talked about this, Kate. Yeah. You have a vibe. Stuart’s probably completely freaking out about the state of your marriage. Tell the man the truth.”
She was right, of course. Fancy dinners, sweet words, and movie make-out sessions weren’t par for our usual course. Adding a little spark to a marriage was one thing. But in this case, I saw the motive behind setting the fire.
“It
is
Eric we’re talking about,” Laura said gently. “Does Stuart have reason to be worried?”
“No!” I said, the answer coming before I could fully think about it. “I mean, of course not. Stuart’s my husband. I love him.”
I would never do anything with David, but that didn’t change how I felt. David was Eric. And I loved Eric. And the fact that I was married to another man couldn’t ever change that.
“You love David, too,” she said, pretty much reading my mind. “And he’s your husband as well. Or, sort of, anyway.”
I made a face, not sure I wanted to get into that theological kerfuffle. So far, I’d hesitated asking Father Corletti’s opinion on the status of my marriage. I knew the answer as far as the State of California was concerned. As for the state of my soul, the question remained. Did I have one husband? Or did I have two?
“I’ll talk to him Wednesday night,” I said.
“Got a hole in your calendar and looking to plan a few fun-filled few hours?”
“Cute. No, tomorrow he has the morning show at one of the network’s affiliates, and then he’s flying to Sacramento and won’t be back until Tuesday morning. Then that night is the dinner party at our house. And I can’t see telling him before a TV appearance or a campaign party.”
“I see your point. ‘Hey, honey. I hunt demons in my spare time. Think I can help you round up the bad guys once you’re in office?’” She shook her head. "Definitely not the right approach.”
I rolled my eyes. “Wednesday,” I said. “Come hell or high water, I’m telling him Wednesday.”
Laura grimaced. “The way things are going, my money’s on hell.”
Twelve
"You’re sure this is a
good idea?” I asked Laura as I shelled out twenty-five dollars to buy Allie a wristband that would allow her to go on all the rides without tickets.
“Trust me,” Laura said. She pointed to a spider-looking ride in which the passengers lay on their stomachs and were whirled around in midair. “As many times as they’re going to want to go into the fun house or ride that spinning, whirling death thing, we’ll be glad we coughed up the money for the all-included price.”
“I bow to your shopping savvy,” I said, having learned long ago not to argue with Laura where the value of a dollar is concerned.
“Where’s Daddy?” Allie asked as the ticket-booth man strapped the band to her wrist.
I cringed, but Mindy was one booth over, busily fidgeting with her own band.
“David, sweetie. You need to remember to call him David.”
“Right. Sorry. I know that. Really I do.”
“And the answer is, I don’t know. He’s got to be around here somewhere.”
We both craned our necks, trying unsuccessfully to find the man. The parking lot for the boardwalk and beach was crammed full of carnival rides, tents, ticket booths, and snack shacks. Among all these temporary structures, so many people moved in thick throngs that you would have thought no one in San Diablo had ever been to a carnival before.
“We’re
never
going to find him,” Allie said, sliding into a whininess I hadn’t heard from her for at least several glorious weeks.
“I promise we will,” I said. “Until we do, why don’t you and Mindy go enjoy the carnival? I paid for that wristband—I at least want you to get some use out of it.”
She aimed a sour expression my direction, but eventually nodded. “Okay, but if you find him, it totally qualifies as an emergency and you
have
to call my cell phone. Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
“ ’Kay. I’m gonna see if Mindy wants to ride that thing,” she added, pointing to the spiderlike machine that Laura had tagged right away.
“Fine,” I said. “Go. I’ll be here with my feet safely on the ground.”
She gave a disgusted little shake of her head. “Jeez, Mom. You’re such a wimp.”
Laura laughed as she and Mindy hurried off. “And just like that, you’re reduced to the level of us plebeians.”
“I scream when I find a bug in the bathroom, too,” I said.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Hang on,” I said, twisting quickly to look behind me.
“What?”
I scoured the area around us, seeing no one out of the ordinary. “Paranoia, I think.” But I wasn’t entirely sure that was the case. I distinctly remembered that odd sensation of being watched in the alley on David’s first night back. Then again in my own backyard, and that on a night when a demon’s body had gone missing. (And as far as I could tell, had thankfully stayed missing, not turning up in Dumpsters or ditches or other places that might cause the police to ask all those irritating questions.)
Now the feeling was back, this time in broad daylight. My only suspect was Dukkar, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“I know that look, Kate,” Laura said.
“Goose bumps,” I said. “Like someone’s watching me.”
“Maybe it’s David,” she suggested. “Or our carnival flyer friend.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Come on. Let’s either find David or get something cold to drink.”
“Do carnivals sell wine coolers?” she asked, heading into the thick of things.
“I don’t know. But I think it’s high time we find out.”
As it turns out, this carnival did, which made it a high-class operation in both my and Laura’s estimation.
We were on our second bottled cooler when Timmy decided he’d had enough of that napping thing and woke with a start and a definite opinion as to where we should go next.
“Nemo! Mommy, Mommy, look! Nemo!”
Sure enough, one of the game booths was strung with clown fish and other denizens of the sea. Not the Disney licensed version, but my little boy didn’t care.
“Want out!” he said, leaning forward and straining against the strap on his stroller. “I want a Nemo!”
I didn’t bother to explain to him that getting out of the stroller wasn’t actually going to get him much closer to holding a Nemo in his hot little hands, but I did release him. He raced pell-mell to the edge of the game, then reached up, as if by the sheer force of his desire he could will one of those fishies to drop down into his hands.
“Gotta play the game, little guy,” the carny said. I cocked my head, considering the carny and, more important, wondering if he knew who I was. If he was one of the ones who’d been watching me.
“Mommy, please? I want Nemo.” He rubbed his chest and pouted his lips and looked so dang cute I had to give in.
“How much?”
“Three for five,” the carny said, pointing to the darts that lined the railing. The idea was to toss them and pop the balloons. I hesitated to ask how many pops it took to earn a Nemo.
“Five tries,” I said to Timmy. “But there’s no guarantee you’ll win.”
“Ten.” He held up two hands, all five fingers splayed out.
“Yay, you! What a good counter. But, no. Five tries.”
“Seven!” One hand disappeared behind his back.
“Five.”
“Three, Mommy! Three, three, three!”
“Sweetie,” I said. “Five is more than three.”
I’m not entirely sure he believed me, but he finally let loose with an “Okay, Mommy,” which I swear had exactly the same tonal quality as his sister’s famous
whatever.
“So here’s the way the game is played, little man,” the carny said, leaning over the counter to pick my son up and plunk him on the thick railing. “You take this dart—hold it carefully—and you toss it at that wall. Aim high, boy. You pop one, you get a prize. More you pop, bigger the prize. Got it?”
Timmy gave a thumbs-up and looked at me for assurance. “Have at it, kiddo.”
He picked up a dart, the carny stepped out of the line of fire, and away the thing flew.
Surprisingly, it actually made it to the wall. The point didn’t hit a balloon, but I was pretty darned impressed that my little boy managed to send a dart flying that far.
“Second time’s a charm, little man,” the carny said, handing him a bright yellow dart.
As it turns out, it was. The carny gave him a few pointers and he popped balloons with darts two and three. Four went wild, but he popped another with five. Not a bad average, all in all.
“Good job, boy. You get any of the prizes along the pole. Take your pick, little dude.”
The carny had a big wide grin, obviously assuming Timmy would be thrilled. I knew better. There was no Nemo on the pole. All the Nemos were strung across the top of the booth.
“Nemo!” Timmy said.
“Can’t do that, dude. But this fishy here’s real cute.” He pointed to a yellow fish with bulging blue eyes.
“Ne. Mo.” Timmy put his little fists on his hips and stomped his foot. “Want Nemo!”
“Calm down, sweetie,” I said, hauling him off the railing and plunking him on the ground beside me.
The second I did, the tears started, and I was forced to face that most delicate of mommy moments: Explain to my child that you don’t always get what you want, or win him the damned fish.
Call me a wimp, but I chose the fish.
“How many balloons to win Nemo?” I asked.
“Fifteen,” he said. “In a row.”
I looked at Laura, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I couldn’t do better than Timmy.”
“Here.” I passed him nine dollars. “Let’s go.”
“Little boy’s gonna be awfully disappointed if you don’t get him a Nemo,” the carny said. “I can sell one to you for thirty.”
“I think not.”
“You got a husband around here? Maybe he ought to give it a whirl.”
Not only was he now pissing me off, but I decided that he couldn’t possibly have been surreptitiously watching me if he was that clueless. I pointed to the railing. “The darts, please.”
He sighed, low and deep, as if it pained him to see an innocent female like me embarrass myself in front of my little boy.
And, to be honest, with so much riding on my performance— winning a fish for Timmy and impressing the chauvinist carny—I was probably more nervous tossing that first dart than I’d ever been in combat with a demon.
Pop!
“Score one for the little lady,” the carny said, causing Laura to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
That broke the ice, though, and I fired off the remaining fourteen darts in quick succession. I aimed my most feminine smile at the carny, then pointed to Nemo. To his credit, he didn’t say a word, just passed it to me and watched as I passed it to my little boy.
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“Any time, kiddo,” I said, pushing the stroller back into the throng.
“Show-off,” Laura said from beside me.
“Maybe,” I said. “But at least I’ve still got it.”
“So does your daughter,” Laura said. “Look.”
I followed the direction of her outstretched finger and found Allie across the makeshift walkway. David was by her side, and they were huddled close together, her father showing her how to properly hold the pellet gun that would take out the metal duck targets.