Reilly 12 - Show No Fear (24 page)

N
INA DROVE
B
OB TO HIS PRESCHOOL, CLUTCHING HIM IN A
warm good-bye hug before he jumped out of the MG. She watched him scamper up the stairs.

She had now lived one-half of a life and had viewed her mother’s final half. That made a life in its entirety, fragments strung together really, discontinuous when you stepped back and took a good look. A new life had begun with this small wild animal. She saw herself in him as well as her mother.

She wondered if Matt would ever have children, ever be healthy and happy enough to sustain a serious love relationship.

On the way to her mother’s house, she stopped in to buy coffee at the bookstore café. The woman behind the counter greeted her, brought her cup, and left her alone. A neighbor had been browsing the philosophy section nearby. He told her how sorry he was about her mother and offered to help her clear things out of the house. She declined his kind offer but felt cheered.

Leaving the car parked near Lighthouse Road, she walked to her mother’s. She wanted to walk. She would fetch the car later when the time came to load it. A soft sea breeze scooted up the street, and the sky had turned a thrilling clarified blue. Like everything else on the Central California coast, the climate in winter was mellowed by the presence of the ocean. The temperature seldom
dropped below forty degrees on the Monterey Peninsula, although it could feel colder because of the moisture in the air or wind. She jaywalked easily across a no-longer-busy road, stepping through piles of mildewing leaves at the curb.

Yellow-flowered breakfast dishes still cluttered the sink. She began by washing them.

In the old rolltop desk, her mother had kept orderly files for bills and records. Her mother had told her there was a “small” insurance policy, which lay under the photo. This policy, along with the sale of the cottage, would in fact amount to about $200,000 for each of them after paying a Realtor and taxes.

Nina sat back in the chair. She could quit working and devote her nonschool time to Bob if she wanted to, she thought, staggered. She looked at young Ginny in the photo and said, “Oh, Mom.” Then she sat on the couch and thought some more about it. This money would make her life so much easier, but—

Like the tail of a scorpion, this windfall would sting Matt. Paul, who no doubt had a copy, would wonder if Matt had known about it. Had he mentioned it to Zinnia one weak night? Nina hadn’t known the amount and assumed Matt had not. But then there was also the cottage, free and clear and now to be sold. Paul must realize Matt had a financial motive to kill his mother, along with all the other crazy stuff.

Well, Zinnia had a financial motive. Nina didn’t even know the girl’s last name. She wondered about this person who had invaded their lives, who didn’t bother to hide her own desperation.

Harlan’s windfall, the disappearance of his spousal support obligation, would also suggest a motive to Paul. For about half a second she entertained the possibility that her father or brother had murdered her mother.

Of course not. But if, Nina said to herself, breathless at the thought, if—that would be the end of me. I would never recover.

Heart as heavy as an anvil, she put the policy into a manila envelope in her bag, which already held her copy of the will. Her mother’s will left everything to her and Matt, share and share alike. Very simple, very clear. Not like Professor Cerruti’s will case.

She remembered the pretermitted heir discussion in class. Let’s see, if a will made no specific mention of a child—meant to protect after-born children—

Wait. Maybe Bob was a pretermitted heir, if Richard had a will and had left him out! She really had to talk to Perry Tompkins, take him out to lunch or something.

A desk-sized appointment book, left over from busier times, lay open on the desk. Marks here and there noted times for doctors, dentists, and lately the lawyers. A note taped to the front indicated that the police had copied this book and had taken last year’s.

Nina checked the days right before her mother died, finding only that her mother had refilled a prescription, called several repair places about her car, met with Remy, and noted names of several lawyers she planned to call on Monday, the day she died. Nina flipped back to the page for Matt’s birthday, where Ginny had noted the birthday party and drawn a happy face. Nina slammed the book shut.

She located empty boxes in the shed and filled several with papers from the desk, all the old letters and mementos of her and Matt as children. Her mother had never packed them away. She must have taken them out to look at once in a while. Piling picture albums into a box, Nina knew she would not be able to look at them for a long time. Clothes, shoes, and personal items she packed quickly in plastic bags for donation. She kept the pearl earrings for herself and a few rings with real stones.

Matt might like something. An auction agency would be hosting an “estate sale” this weekend to clear out the antique furniture. “All my junk,” her mother had called it.

Nina carried the boxes out to the front lawn, walked to her car, drove it to the house, and stuffed it full. With the top down it held rather more than she had expected. She locked the house behind her and took a long look at the rattan chair and flowered cushion dusted with dead leaves and blossoms on the front porch. She would remember the smell of the house for the next half of her life, drifts of baked ham, old papers, sachet, and all the rest.

J
ACK STOPPED BY THAT EVENING LOADED DOWN WITH FOOD.
A
disheveled, surprised Nina answered the door. Bob stood silently in the middle of a pile of rough, dirt-encrusted wooden stakes on the living-room rug, his face splotched with anger and distress. Nina had just come upon this scene after putting the vacuum away and just opened her mouth to give Bob some harsh words.

“Hey, little rascal,” said Jack. “I’ve got a bag of stuff in the car I could use some help with.” He offered Nina a warm smile, walked the little boy out to the car, and handed him a small plastic bag.

When they got to the kitchen, Jack turned on some music and helped Bob unload and name the items as they came out of the bag. Nina disappeared into the back of the house, but she could still hear the talking in the kitchen. “Mom’s pretty mad, huh?” Jack was suggesting mildly.

Bob said in his tiny voice, “I can fix it.” It broke her heart and the irritation went out of her.

Nina returned, composed now. She knelt by Bob and touched his shoulder. “I told you to leave those stakes where the builder put them. Remember?” He nodded. “He measured everything very carefully, and now he will have to do it all over again. That takes
up his time and costs me money. So you behaved badly, didn’t you?” He moved his head, yes, again chewing on the inside of his cheek. Nina stood up and touched his hair. “You are a good boy, Bob, and that’s why it surprises me when you misbehave. Will you try harder to listen to what I say?”

Her son released a sigh. “I’ll put them back.” He grabbed the wood and ran out the front door, slamming the screen with a bang.

Nina winced.

“You have the one-minute scold routine down,” remarked Jack, handing Nina a can of beer. “I heard there was a party here and decided to crash.”

“I’m so glad to see you.” She smiled slightly at him. “I do believe the party just started.”

“Bearing up all right? I can’t stop worrying about you. No sign of Peeping Toms? No bumps in the night?”

Nina had put on a long, purple sweater that stopped above her thighs, which were covered in black tights. Her brown hair lay in waves on her shoulders, fluffed with a brush and otherwise left to fend for itself.

She shook her head, saw him looking at her, and looked down. “I’m influenced by teenaged babysitters. I love the way they dress.”

“You look great,” he said. “Always. Wearing whatever.”

Bob came back in, his hands and knees black from his digging. Nina pulled him to her and smoothed his wild dark hair, then took him off for a wash. When she came back, while they were fixing dinner, she told Jack about the insurance policy. “That was a major surprise.”

“I’m glad for you and Matt. Glad to hear it.” Nina saw him bite his lip, deciding not to say any more. She knew he was thinking about Ginny and a motive for murder. If he had said anything further at all, she might have gotten angry. He didn’t. Instead he grew a little in her estimation.

Jack wore a black T-shirt with a
LED ZEP
logo. His arms were as solid as pistons from bench-pressing and freckled all the way down. Nina thought he had wanted to hug her as she let him in, but he was
her boss. She was also afraid she might respond too warmly. She experienced a little thrill as he brushed by her.

He had dropped by as if they had a date, or as if he were her brother who came by all the time, or as if—why had he come? To be supportive? Collegiality, friendship, love even, all lay on a spectrum. He probably couldn’t explain what he felt right now either. Maybe he had come because
he
was the lonely one.

They ate garlicky scampi that Jack sautéed, buttered French bread, red lettuce and avocado with homemade salad dressing. They also scarfed down bakery chocolate cake, then she bathed and put the protesting Bob to bed. Nina and Jack finished the beer.

They sat on the rotten porch steps and listened to the white noise of the surf a few blocks away.

Nina picked up a hammer lying on the porch and whacked hard at an invisible nail. The moon rose over the gables of the house next door, and they heard the honking of geese the neighbors kept behind a fence. In the midst of the upheaval and worry, she felt very aware of his comforting physical presence.

Jack had put his arm around her waist as they sat. His fingers now stroked her hip. Nina edged away.

“Jack?”

He looked at her and took a deep breath, smiling as if he were drinking her in.

“Still going to quit law?” she said.

“Why are you going into it?”

“Oh, I figured out that the world runs on law. I still believe that. Law is slow, and sometimes biased, but it’s a check on wrongdoing from the White House on down to credit ratings and improper late fees and bad tickets and all the other indignities of daily life. I mean, well, I always felt a little unsafe on this earth, Jack. I knew I’d be on my own a lot from an early age. I wanted to understand the machine and be able to manipulate it to protect myself and my family. This kind of knowledge really is power.”

“Ah, all this female empowerment. A few years ago, I might have said, what about a husband? Historically, they have performed some of those—”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get married, Jack. My parents’ breakup was so bitter it destroyed all the good memories from earlier, everything they built.”

“What about Klaus and Elise? They’ve been together for forty-some years, I believe.”

Nina waved a hand. “We don’t even know if they’re married.”

“Were you in love with Filsen?”

“God knows why I picked him. Because he was the brightly colored bird in the next tree? Noisy. Convenient. Attractive.”

“What was he like?”

She sighed. “A hypocrite, but I didn’t see that. I never heard anyone talk more about honesty who could tell more lies. But, at least in the beginning, I had no idea he was lying. He told me bald-faced stinkers: he wanted everything I wanted, it seemed. I think he lied to himself all day long; that made him believable. I was gullible.”

“At what? Twenty-three? You’re not supposed to be a hardened cynic at that age. In fact, it’s probably better to go through life believing what people tell you.”

“I was a hick.”

“How’d you get over him?”

Aha, Nina thought, this is definitely about Remy. She thought for a second, then said, “I ran away and stayed up at Tahoe for a few weeks. That’s another bad experience I’ll spare you from hearing about, but I thought for a short period that I was in love with another man.”

“Where’s he?”

“Long, long gone.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, after my fling with Richard was over, I found out I was pregnant. I never considered not keeping the baby, and I never considered getting back with Richard, who was seeing other women.”

“Isn’t it strange,” Jack ruminated, “how when you feel close to somebody, you have this pigheaded perception that they feel close to you?”

She smiled. “I came home from work one day and found green leaves on the front path. He had gotten mad because I was late and hacked up all my houseplants. Little green corpses everywhere, I suppose that was the symbology. I wasn’t frightened. I’d say I felt liberated. That was it, that and the obligatory dinner date where I officially told him it was time to go our separate ways.”

“Did you see him after that?”

“No. Not until he came around that one day. And you know the rest.” Jack didn’t know the rest, he didn’t know that her mother had spent her inheritance on ensuring Richard would stay away. That was none of Jack’s business, that was family business.

“What about the custody case?” he was saying.

“I’m taking Perry Tompkins out to the Firehouse Restaurant and getting all that cleared up tomorrow. But—I suppose we’ll have some confirmation in the next few days, since the paternity testing has already been done.” Again, she didn’t mention the possibility that Richard’s estate might go to Bob and—it’s all too complicated! she cried to herself.

Her face must have looked blasted with misery at that moment. Jack reached over to hug her. She hugged him back. Then, sniffing her neck, he moved toward her mouth for a kiss.

She stood up, pulling away before they connected. “You’re still with Remy.”

“Not with her. I still have feelings for her, yes. But you are such a sweet sight, Nina, with that porch light behind you, and all that hair shining like a halo.” He also stood. “I guess I should go. I told Paul I might stop by on my way down the coast to my place.”

She watched him drive away, wiping her wet lips with her hand. Such a good man, Jack. Loyal, honorable, no hypocrite.

Jeez, she really, really liked him.

Paul had moved to a condo in Carmel. The units, most with picturewindow views of the Pacific, were two-story town houses with small lawns and flower boxes around the doorways. Paul’s held roses of an indeterminate color in the gloom. His outdoor light was out. Jack could hear the distant barking of seals through a cool fog.
He knocked, but no one answered. He tried the door, and to his utter surprise, it opened. How unlike Paul.

A familiar smell he couldn’t place filled the air. He walked through the dimly lit living room, intending to tap on the bedroom door and let Paul know he was there. Maybe Paul would get up and talk, because Jack felt like talking. He thought he could talk all night—and do some drinking, too—and plan another climb.

At the door of Paul’s room he heard a low female moan. Transfixed, all he could think was, if he tiptoed, could he get out without being noticed? The last thing he wanted was to spend the evening chatting up one of Paul’s new friends. He tiptoed back toward the door.

Paul must have heard him as he made his way back into the living room, because he was on Jack Doberman-style. “Don’t move,” he snapped, pointing a police-issue revolver from the hallway before Jack could fade out. It was disconcerting, the way Paul moved so rapidly, held the gun with two hands. Jack wasn’t about to move, wasn’t about to permit his heart to make a single loud beat.

But then Jack’s attention sprang from Paul’s palm-tree designer shorts and Paul, who now stood there quietly, gun at his side. The woman who had moaned had run to the door of the bedroom.

Jack looked behind Paul at the pale face and golden hair of Remy, wearing a tan sheet that sure as hell didn’t look like her usual streetwear. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. Paul’s face had turned sheepish and he was trying to work up a speech, too, but Jack didn’t feel like hearing it.

That’s right, yeah, he thought as he stumbled back toward the door without a word. That was what he had smelled. Her perfume. Joy, by Jean Patou. His last gift to her.