We lunched at McDougal's Pub, a boisterous place where I thought Stacy might feel free to talk because there was no chance of our conversation being overheard by others, and little chance we'd run into anyone we knew. The place was meant to replicate an old-time Irish Pub, with hardwood floors, a long wooden bar with brass rail, and framed prints of the Irish countryside hanging on the dark paneled walls. Visually, it came off cute. Audibly, it was something else. With no sound absorbing surfaces in the entire place, the voices and laughter bounced off the walls and echoed through one's eardrums. The effect was like being locked inside a pre-school at recess time, only the voices were several octaves lower.
Stacy was quiet through the meal, picking at her Reuben sandwich, occasionally swirling a French fry through a puddle of catsup but not eating it. Her mouth stayed set in a straight line but her eyes looked weary.
"Stace," I finally broke in, "do you want to talk about it?"
She shook her head, not meeting my eyes.
"What is it? Are you worried about the case, or is it about going home?"
She busied herself with a large bite of her sandwich, shaking her head as if to say neither. It was obviously my cue to butt out. I changed the subject and we finished the meal reminiscing about high school.
The Tanoan community was as dead looking as ever when we pulled through the gates an hour later. The tan stucco giants shouldered side-by-side, their curtained eyes pointed straight ahead, as if to ignore each other's presence despite the fact that they were almost touching. We drove three blocks before seeing another living being. A yard service truck was parked in front of one of the tan mammoths. Three men bustled about like servants, manicuring and trimming. They would be gone in fifteen minutes, leaving the giant trimmed and pretty, if unloved. I pictured my mother planting and tending her rose bushes with love. I supposed that just wasn't done here.
Brad's Mercedes sat in the circular drive. Stacy tensed visibly as we pulled up. I stopped short, in front of a neighbor's house.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. "You're welcome to come home with me if you need a few days to get yourself together."
She sucked in a deep breath and let it out again slowly. Her eyes remained riveted to the front of the house. I followed her gaze. A front curtain stirred.
"No," she said, "I'll be fine." She darted a quick, tense smile my way. "I better get in now."
I edged the Jeep slowly forward, stopping in front of Stacy's house. I squeezed her hand.
"Do you want me to go in with you?"
"No, no, don't be silly." She forced her voice to be breezy. "Really, Charlie, I'll be fine."
Secretly, I was glad she'd turned down the offer. I watched her walk away from me, squaring her shoulders as she approached the front door. A person's home should be her refuge, her safe haven from the pressures of the world. Somehow, I knew this wasn't the case with Stacy.
Thoughtfully, I drove slowly through the lifeless streets. What did it matter if a person had shitpots of money, I thought, if there was no joy in their lives? What joy could there be in working oneself to death in a high pressure career, just to come home to a house that looked like it had been cloned from that of a neighbor you didn't even know? My heart went out to Stacy but I didn't know how I could tell her so. After all, she'd made her choice.
It was a little after two by the time I reached the intersection of Academy and Wyoming. I remembered that I'd promised Josh Detweiller to meet him after school one day. My timing might be just about right if I headed across town right now.
At the next red light, I pulled my phone book from the back seat. Video Madness, Josh had called their hangout. It was listed on Coal, I guessed about two or three blocks from the school. I hit San Mateo southbound. The weather was beautiful and it seemed to put people in an aggressive mood. I got the one-finger wave from a guy after he abruptly changed lanes in front of me. After nearly taking off my front bumper, he sped ahead and I watched him pull the same maneuver on someone else.
Video Madness was just that, I discovered, when I finally found the place twenty minutes later. The small parking area overflowed with cars of the same vintage as Josh's primer-coated muscle car. A few newer ones dotted the area but not many. For the most part, these kids were from families like Josh's, hard working, many with single parents. Most of the parents didn't drive new cars, much less their teens. Opposite of the neighborhood I'd just come from.
I could hear the dinging, whizzing, boinging of electronic video games even before I opened the door. The windows had been painted over with black paint. I stepped in, my eyes adjusting slowly to the dimness. The jangling cacophony would drive me crazy in about fifteen minutes. A middle-aged man manned the counter, dispensing quarters, soft drinks, and slices of pizza, which were kept warm under two red light bulbs in a glass case. Clumps of teens gathered around two small booths, Formica tables with Formica benches running along each side. Apparently food was the first priority after school, although the games were getting a fair amount of attention, too.
I spotted Josh alone at one of the games. His eyes darted around the screen following some dreaded aliens. Both hands were busy at the controls, shooting the monsters with deadly precision. His concentration was total. There might not have been another person within miles as far as Josh was concerned.
I circled, trying to stay out of his line of sight, allowing him to finish his game without distraction. It probably didn't matter—a bomb explosion probably wouldn't have distracted him. I parked myself behind and to his left, watching the game, waiting for a break when I might speak to him. It took about fifteen minutes before one of the aliens got him.
"You're pretty good at this," I commented.
His head snapped toward me. "Oh! I didn't even see you there."
"You were pretty intent all right. You must play a lot."
"Yeah, I guess so. Every day." When he smiled, his face became angelic. "Wanna play a game?"
"Well, I've never really tried these much," I admitted. My eye-hand coordination skills are pretty much limited to the computer keyboard and sometimes even that is iffy.
"Come on," he coaxed. He was already dropping quarters into the slot. "Okay, get over here. You've got the red controls."
My mouth opened to protest but he had scooped me toward him by my shoulder.
"Now, I'm player number one, so you just watch what I do." His eyes were again intent on the screen. I tried to watch his hand moves but, truthfully, I hadn't much idea of what he was doing. His turn took about five minutes, then he was finally shot down.
"Okay, you go."
I felt like a spotlight had just been turned toward me. Surely everyone in the room was about to witness me making a fool of myself. I braced my feet the way Josh had done. Suddenly, red bursting lights were screaming toward my man. I grabbed the controls. I fired. I dodged. I got shot down within a minute.
"That's okay. You're just racking up points right now. You'll get two more turns."
Goody.
Josh was back at it—firing, dodging, ducking. His body emulated the moves his video icon made. Maybe that was the secret—really putting your whole self into it. When I finally got a turn again, five minutes later, I tried the same thing. This time my turn lasted a good two minutes. We each had another turn before the game quit. Josh's score was more than triple mine but he was gracious about it.
"C'mon," I said, "loser buys the Cokes."
The tables had cleared out now. Stomachs filled, the other kids had turned to the games.
"I hold a record for that game," Josh told me proudly as we carried our Cokes to a table. "Really. It lists the high scores, and my initials are right there at the top. You can check if you want to."
"That's great," I told him. "I believe you."
Peeling the paper off my straw, I tried to figure out the best way to broach the real questions.
"I guess you didn't really come here to play video games with me," Josh said.
"D
id you hear that they arrested a woman for your father's murder today?"
His straw stopped in mid-air. The color drained from his lips. "No!" He seemed frozen, like an actor in a stop-action scene. Our eyes caught for a minute, until he moved again. "Who was it?" he asked.
"Her name is Stacy North. You might have heard of her husband, Brad North."
"Uh, I don't think so." He jabbed the straw down through the little X in the lid on his cup. He took a long drag on the straw before he looked back up and smiled at me.
"Then it's over, huh? They caught her."
"I don't think she did it, Josh. I know this woman—she was a friend a long time ago. She did know your father, but very briefly. People don't usually kill someone they hardly know."
"Well, then why'd they arrest her? The police aren't stupid. They know more about it than you do, I bet."
"I'm sure they do, Josh. But they don't know Stacy personally." We were both getting a little hot under the collar, so I steered the conversation another way. Obviously, Josh wanted very badly to believe that the killer had been caught. I let it go.
"Look," I said, "I didn't mean to get you all upset. How's your mom doing?"
He blew out a deep breath, then took a sip of his drink before answering. "She is doing great. She's acting . . . I don't know."
He fixed his mouth around his straw again. I waited.
"She's acting all weird, Charlie." He drummed all ten fingers on the table rapidly. "It's kind of like. . . kind of. . like she's happy." His voice broke slightly on the last word. He got busy with his drink again, keeping his head tilted downward so I couldn't see his eyes.
I glanced around the room, giving him a minute to compose himself. Noise from the video games clanged from every surface. No way anyone else could hear us. The gurgling sound of an empty straw came from across the table.
"Look, I gotta go," Josh said. He was on his feet already. He slapped his hand down gently on the table in front of me. "Thanks for the game and the Coke."
He headed for the door. I watched his slim back as he affected his teenage boy walk across the narrow parking area. Seconds later, he was out of sight. I remained where I was, sipping slowly at my drink. Our conversation and Josh's reactions kept playing through my mind. He'd been shocked when I first told him of Stacy's arrest. Why? It was almost like he expected it to be someone he knew. He'd been visibly relieved when he found out who it was.
Chapter 13