He straightened, and saw the smear of red nail polish on the side of his right thigh. And on the side of his left thigh. Color flooded his face. A smile tugged at his lips. “Damn. And it’s not like I’m overwhelmed with clothes here.”
“How did you do that?”
He knew exactly how he’d done that. When he thought about last night, it was amazing he didn’t have red fingernail polish on his chest and shoulders and … places less obvious. But no way would he discuss this with Margaret. “You know,” he said vaguely. “Helping around the resort.”
“I thought maybe you’d got into some paint mucking around at Elizabeth’s dig,” Margaret said.
“Good one.” He wished he had thought of that excuse. “I’ll go change, and ask the staff if they can clean this off. Or maybe they can make it fade. I’ll have to wear my slacks today. Elizabeth will mock me.” He looked toward the door where Elizabeth had vanished. “We’ll see you tonight, Margaret, and catch you up on anything we’ve discovered.”
Margaret watched him hurry off. She poured herself a fresh cup of tea. She added lemon, cream and sugar, and stirred it slowly and thoroughly.
How could a man get paint on both sides of his jeans? She was old, and she had forgotten a lot, but even so, she could only think of one way … and come to think of it, this morning, Elizabeth had red polish on her nails.
Margaret chuckled. “At least one good thing has been brought about by this earthquake. A very good thing, indeed.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Today, the medical staff at the Honor Mountain Memory Care Facility looked grim, sad, and confused. Garik had seen situations like these before: people dazed by the sudden onset of violence. Time, and a return to normalcy, would bring them solace.
But these days normalcy was difficult to achieve. How much longer until Virtue Falls had heat, light; until homes were repaired; until the staff worked routine hours again? Days or weeks to rebuild the infrastructure—water, gas, electricity, roads—but years for home life and business procedure.
The attack on one of their own had added another dimension of stress—and more important, fear—to already difficult lives.
Garik stopped Sheila in the corridor and asked, “How is Yvonne?”
“Okay. Non-life-threatening injury. She’ll be scarred, and she’s terrified.” As if she felt the knife, Sheila pressed her hand to her throat. “She never did anything to hurt anybody, and she doesn’t understand how she became a target.”
“She wasn’t the target,” Elizabeth said. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Sheila smiled tightly, and without any apparent appreciation of Elizabeth’s attempt to be supportive. “She’s tired, and not taking comfort from such sensible comments.” The words sensible comments held a bit of a snap.
“We’ll visit her today, and see if we can’t cheer her up.” Because Garik liked Yvonne, but more important, he wanted to question her about her attacker. He wanted to know what she had seen, heard, smelled, and whether she believed the man had been after drugs—or attempting to gain entrance to the facility for other reasons. “In the meantime, how is Charles Banner?”
Sheila smiled with sincere pleasure. “He’s fine. A dear man who, when he heard the news this morning, did everything in his power to bolster our spirits. And I don’t think he remembers who Yvonne is. Yet the poor man learned about violence the hard way.”
“You mean when he killed my mother?” Elizabeth asked.
Sheila viewed Elizabeth thoughtfully. “No. I meant when he was repeatedly beaten in prison.”
“So you don’t believe he killed my mother?” Elizabeth insisted.
“No. I don’t,” Sheila said.
Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ear. “I respect your opinion. Thank you for giving it to me.”
Sheila nodded, glanced down at her pager, and hurried away.
Elizabeth turned to Garik. “The preponderance of belief here is that my father is innocent. At first I thought their surroundings and the patients they cared for must have affected the medical staff and their thinking, but as I’ve grown to know them, I find myself hoping that they’re right, and we can discover a different truth about my parents than the one the jury decided upon.”
Taking her hand, he drew her into the open restroom, shut the door, and locked it behind them. “I’m hoping that, too. But we don’t want to talk about your father at all, to anyone. If your father is innocent, then we have an abundance of suspects and a violent attack last night that may be connected to the case—but probably is not. So let’s act casual. We’ll visit your father, I’ll search for evidence, we’ll behave as if the one thing that really consumes our attention is the earthquake and getting back to normal.”
Elizabeth listened, and thought. “Of course. You’re right. If the DOT doesn’t fix the roads soon, the whole town will have trouble getting potable water, so getting back to normal could really be the issue that consumes our attention.”
“Exactly.” He kissed her hand, then opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.
A male orderly stopped and stared, then hurried on toward the dining room.
“We just gave the medical staff something else to discuss besides potable water and the attack on Yvonne,” Garik said.
“What?”
Garik mocked her with his gaze.
“You mean he thinks that we—” Elizabeth looked behind her. “We were in the restroom.”
“Together.” He led her toward Charles’s room.
Elizabeth was clearly appalled. “Who would do it in the restroom?”
“Restrooms are private.”
“They’re a germ factory!”
“Sex is a germ factory. But I’ll take my chances … with you.” He stopped outside her father’s room and kissed her lips. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Elizabeth adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “I’ve got the laptop in case he wants to see the tsunami again. I’ve got my album. And I want to know what he knows. So yes, I’m ready.”
* * *
Misty didn’t even wait for Charles to sit down and take off his muddy boots. She was almost dancing with joy as she announced, “I found our house.”
Charles blinked at her.
They’d lived in an apartment in Virtue Falls for two months, and he had thought Misty had looked at every property up and down the coast trying to find the perfect place for them to buy. “Our house? Really? Did it just come on the market?”
“No! That’s the weird thing. The realtor didn’t want to show it to me because she thought I wouldn’t like it.” Misty tossed her blond hair in disdain. “Realtors are like beauticians. They think they know best and they try to handle you to get their own way. I found our house when I was walking toward the dig and got lost.”
“You found a house? When you got lost on the way to the dig? Where is it?”
“On the flat above the canyon, about a half mile from the ocean.”
“On the plateau? There’s nothing out there.”
“Yes, there is. Our house.” She laughed excitedly. “Come on. Let me show you.”
She took him to the flats above the ocean cliffs where the wind blew with ceaseless force off the Pacific and the trees grew like misshapen beasts, claws pointed inland.
As if the location wasn’t bad enough, the house itself had been an old woman’s abode, neglected for years, until she died two years before. Then the salt breeze battered the last of the paint off the exterior. Humidity leaked through the old single-hung windows to make the plaster swell and fall off the walls in chunks.
Charles thought it strange that Misty, who had been raised in Southern California among the bustle and decadence of the movie business, would desire to live out in the middle of nothing. “We’ll have no close neighbors,” he said.
“I know. Isn’t it wonderful? No one to see us coming and going. No one to gossip about us. No one to interfere with the way we raise our child.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t understand. Why would anyone gossip about us?”
She laughed. “Darling, it’s a small town. Gossip is the main entertainment.”
Bewildered, he said, “But we don’t do anything worth gossiping about.”
“Gossips don’t let facts like that stop them. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been asked about you and me, and how we met, and whether we’re happy together.” She put her hand on his chest. “I tell them we are.”
“Of course … you are happy, aren’t you?” His work engrossed him, but even more, he was engrossed in Misty, in the changes pregnancy was creating in her body, in her constant enthusiasm for her new surroundings.
“I am so happy.” She gestured around at the rundown home. “I feel free here!”
He looked around again, at the mildewed carpets and the doors swollen with moisture; they stuck at the top or the bottom, or both.
Misty said, “Rainbow down at the diner wants to pry every last detail of our sex life out of me.”
“What do you say?” Such rampant curiosity made him cringe.
“I tell her I married you for one reason, and it wasn’t because of your lofty intellect.” She gurgled with laughter. “Haven’t you noticed the way all the women in town watch you now? They think you’re the biggest stud on the West Coast. And of course, you are.” She slid her arm through his and kissed him.
He kissed her back, but her kisses, no matter how delicious, couldn’t distract him from the reality that surrounded him. “The house is going to need remodeling. I don’t know how to remodel.”
“I already bought books at the hardware store. I can do a lot of it.”
He looked at her doubtfully. She was four and a half months pregnant, had been showing for a month, and he secretly worried she was carrying twins.
She continued blithely, “During the off-season, I can hire the workers from the resort.”
“But can we afford to remodel?”
“For the price I’ve negotiated on this house, we could tear it down and start over. Except that I like the house. It has character. And don’t you see? I love this land.” She drew him out onto the big, ocean-facing porch. “Watch the grasses ripple. It’s like seeing music. Listen. The ocean’s out there, eternally pounding the shore, and beyond that is the horizon, and infinity. And freedom. So much freedom. This place makes me feel as if I can fly. It is the perfect place to raise our baby. She’ll be happy here.”
“She? Do we know it’s a she?”
“I know.” Misty stroked her hand across his forehead. “And she’ll be as smart as you.”
“But she could never be as pretty as her mother.”
Misty laughed, a merry chime that blended with the Pacific’s breeze. “You say that now. Wait until she’s born, and you hold her in your arms. Then you’ll say she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on, and you’ll do anything for her, to keep her happy.” Misty’s smile slipped. “Promise me you’ll do anything to keep her safe and happy.”
Remembering her mother, he understood, and he made the promise.
* * *
Charles stood in profile by the window of his room, looking out into the parking lot … and yet looking into the past.
Garik and Elizabeth sat together on the visitors’ uncomfortable chairs. Garik had his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. She had her head on his chest.
Charles’s stories irrevocably drew them together, made them realize how brief and precious life could be, and how quickly its joys could end, leaving nothing but memories, and even those were soon lost.
Charles smiled faintly. “The remodeling went perfectly well. People liked to do things for Misty. She could always find someone who was willing to rewire the switches or replace the sinks or install the Sheetrock. She worked alongside the men, and at night she would laugh and tell me how hard they labored because they didn’t want to be shown up by a fat lady.”
“Was Misty fat?” Garik asked.
Elizabeth poked him in the ribs. “Garik means, did she gain a lot of weight when she was pregnant?”
“He’s the one who said fat,” Garik argued.
“I don’t care,” Elizabeth said. “That’s rude.”
“She gained so much weight. You should have seen her. By eight months, she was a blimp.” Charles’s voice crackled with delight. “Every night I would massage her back, and then rub her belly with lotion because the skin itched. She didn’t get stretch marks, but she had every other symptom of pregnancy. Morning sickness for the first five months. Swollen ankles. Her breasts were—” He stopped. “Never mind that.”
“Right. Never mind that,” Garik said.
“But she reveled in impending motherhood. She glowed with happiness. When she went into labor, it wasn’t as painful as she expected, so she didn’t tell me right away, and we didn’t make it to the hospital. Elizabeth was born in Dr. Frownfelter’s office in town on his examining table. That baby came out, and Misty held her.” Charles’s voice caught, and he whispered reverently, “She thought Elizabeth was beautiful.”
Elizabeth blinked to push back the tears. “Misty must have been a wonderful woman.”
“The most wonderful woman in the world,” Charles said.
Garik found himself aching for Charles, for the loneliness of so many years, and the knowledge he would die bewildered and alone, unable even to remember the people who surrounded him. “I don’t understand. Wasn’t Elizabeth beautiful?”
Elizabeth elbowed him again.
Charles made a disgusted sound. “She looked like she’d been stewed in a hot bath for too long. She was all wrinkled and covered with white wax, and she screamed. My God! That child had lungs on her. But Misty didn’t care. She bonded … they bonded right away.”
“Did you not bond with me?” Elizabeth asked.
Charles looked at her uncertainly.
He had forgotten who she was again.
Elizabeth rephrased it. “Did you not bond with the baby?”
“It took me a few more minutes.” Charles smiled. “I’ll never forget how I felt when I looked at the two of them, sweaty and bloody and both of them crying. I felt as if I’d been created for that moment, for those women. I knew I would keep my promise, and I would do anything for my daughter.” With the suddenness of a winter storm, he dropped his head into his hands and wept, terrible, painful tears. “But I failed her. I failed them both, and I will never forgive myself.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
“Here’s my professional opinion.” Garik stared straight ahead, intently watching the road to the hospital. “I agree with the medical staff. I don’t think your father killed your mother.”
Elizabeth swallowed a lump of hope that gathered in her throat. “Why not?”
“I thought maybe he had. I mean, in my job, I’ve seen everything. And he’s always talking about how beautiful she was—”
“Is,” she said.
“What?” Garik glanced at her.
“How beautiful she is. He thinks she’s still alive.”
“He doesn’t think she’s still alive. He knows she’s dead. But he sees her. It sounds as if she comes around quite often.” A tall, slender Douglas fir was down across the road, and Garik slowed the truck.
“Do you believe my mother is a ghost, too?” Elizabeth asked in exasperation.
“I don’t believe she’s a ghost. But she certainly gave him good advice when she told him to move out from underneath the ceiling that was going to fall.” Garik braked to a halt. “Hold on.” Getting out, he dragged the tree into the ditch.
Elizabeth didn’t understand it at all. How did her father manage to convince sensible, practical people like Yvonne and Garik that Misty was visiting the Honor Mountain Memory Care Facility?
Garik got back into the truck, seemingly unaware that he’d wandered into the land of delusion. In that factual, no-nonsense tone Elizabeth thought of as his FBI voice, he continued, “Before today, Charles was always talking a
bout how beautiful your mother was, and I thought the way she looked was the big deal to him. Which makes sense. This none-too-attractive guy manages to snag a gorgeous babe, knowing all the time she was using him to escape a bad family situation. When she bops off and has an affair, proving she doesn’t value him as anything but a way to get away from her mother, the reality of the situation sends him into an uncharacteristic rage and he murders her. So all the time he’s been talking, I’m thinking he sounds like a great guy and he’s telling the story in a way that tugs at your heart, but my money is still on him as the killer.”
Elizabeth turned in the seat to face Garik, fascinated to hear his thoughts so coolly stated.
Garik continued, “Then today he said your mother gained weight with her pregnancy. And you showed us the photos. She really did. A lot of weight.” Briefly, he lifted both hands from the steering wheel to indicate a broad beam. “He was laughing about it, talking about how she glowed and he was so proud when he massaged her back and rubbed her belly. That’s not a man who owns a possession, who has a trophy wife. That’s a man in love.”
“So you’re saying men in love don’t kill their wives?” Elizabeth had once known the answer; now she was not so sure.
Garik also hesitated. “What I’m saying is, if a man in love can kill his wife—that’s not my definition of love.”
“Okay.” Elizabeth contemplated everything Garik had said, everything she had heard from her father, and her own thoughts, and put them together as coherently as she knew how. “I keep thinking that Charles might believe what he’s saying. But memory is a tricky thing. Is he remembering it the way he wants to? To lose his memories after a savage murder like this is so convenient.”
Garik got that shit-eating half-smile on his face. “I know of a child who after viewing a horrific tragedy lost her power of speech, and was unable to tell anyone what she witnessed until that moment when she managed to forget it all.”
Indignant, Elizabeth said, “But I really did lose my power of speech!”