3 Can You Picture This? (12 page)

I tuned back into George just as he was ending his message with, “…‌I love you, Sam.”

What a great thing to hear after berating myself, and being corrected by George.

“I love you, too.”

By the time we walked back into the dining room, Robert was finished eating, and was exhibiting my previous behaviors as he waited. I felt relieved that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait.

I walked up to him and asked appropriately and maturely, “Are you done, hon?”

He said yes, so I asked him to walk into the kitchen with me.

I started with asking him how school was going for him.

He said that since he started on his ADHD medicine, he was having an easier time of it.

After my aunt duties were satisfied, I told him about the murders and how the murderer had worn the same color of hoodie, but without the GCHS logo.

“Do you have any notions of how they could be connected?” I asked him.

“Well, there’s a huge rivalry between GC and St. Francis. I know my family at St. Francis feel that way, but at Gem City there’s even more. It’s like animosity. Hatred. I don’t know why, except a lot of times St. Francis beats GC in sports and St. Francis is a lot smaller.” He paused for a deep breath. “Have you checked to see if the victims were from the same school?”

“No, I haven’t. And that’s an excellent idea. Thanks.” I hugged Robert as I thanked him. And like a typical teenage male he half-heartedly hugged me back.

I couldn’t wait to tell George this idea, but as soon as I returned to the table and sat, Gus went into the kitchen and returned with a cake. There were so many candles that there was a danger of the smoke alarm going off.

After they sang happy birthday to me, and before I blew out the candles, I said, “I’m so grateful for all of you in my life.” I couldn’t say any more because of the lump in my throat. I made a wish and blew out the candles.

When I was able to talk again I said, “Six months ago, you guys surprised me in the ER, congratulating me on my new job after my return to Quincy. Today you did it again. I loved it! But I promise that I won’t fall prey to this one more time. I’ll be on the lookout from now on.”

People smiled and chatted, some of them loudly. As I looked around the table, and around the blanket on the floor, I knew I was absolutely blessed. What a crew! And they loved me.

As soon as the cake was eaten, some people had to go to work. A lot of us didn’t have traditional jobs with regular holidays off. Others stayed, along with the kids, and gave me presents. Tears again on my part.

Each gift was thoughtfully purchased or made and showed how well people knew me. Gus and Georgianne gave me gourmet coffees from around the world. Generous and appreciated. Jenny and Manh had bought an SFU hoodie, in brown and white, along with a baseball cap in the same colors. Pete and Rob joined forces to give me gifts for Clancy—a pink blanket with paw prints on it, and a new leash and collar in bright pink. I sure wouldn’t miss her in the snow with those on. Ed and Angie went in with Jill and Ben to get me gift certificates to the Dairy and the Rectory.

The kids made me drawings, which warmed my heart. Some of them were quite sophisticated in their technique.

Soon, the gathering broke up. I thanked everyone, and George, my kids, and I went back to my house. As we placed my gifts on the dining room table, I was struck by the brown hoodie I’d been given. What was it about the blue hoodie in the murders? I couldn’t let it go.

“George, Robert gave me an idea. Why don’t we check to see if all the victims went to the same school? That might give us more info about why the person used the blue hoodie.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he said, but seemed to have his mind elsewhere.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Us. Well, us and what a great family you have.”

“Thanks.” I went to give him a hug.

“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, too.” But I was beginning to get worried because of the tone of his voice.

By then Adam and Sarah knew they needed to vanish. So they did, and they took Clancy upstairs with them.

George took a step back and took my hands before he spoke.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

SEVENTEEN

F
or a moment I was too stunned to say anything.

“Get out,” were the first words out of my mouth.

“But you don’t even know what I—”

“Please leave.”

He waited a beat, and the look on his face showed both anger and hurt. As George opened the door to leave, he said, “You really need to work on that.”

I ran to my bedroom, threw myself on the bed and began crying. He was going to break up with me. Despite what he had said earlier. I was sure of it.

Or was he? For a moment I feared I had done something terrible. Caused him to walk out when he just wanted to talk to me.

The tears came hotter and faster.

What in the hell is wrong with me that I would sabotage the best relationship I ever had? Now I would never know if I had ended it with my own stupid temper.

I heard a noise and turned over. George hadn’t left after all. He’d returned and just stood in the doorway. It was now or never for me. I rolled off the bed, and stood at a respectful distance from George.

“You probably shouldn’t forgive me. But I’m begging you to. I am so very sorry. I was stupid, impulsive, and immature. I don’t know why. But I promise I’ll get help…” Then I finished the thought, “…‌whether or not you stay with me.”

“Sam, what I said a few minutes ago is still true.” He held up his hand in the universal stop motion.

He’d done that before, when I’d just returned to Quincy and was involved in a murder investigation. At that time, it enraged me. Now, it was what I deserved. So I didn’t interrupt him.

He seemed to relax and put his hand down.

“What I said before still holds true. I love you. I love you a lot.” He ran his hand through his thinning hair. “But you drive me crazy.”

He walked over, sat on the bed, and patted for me to sit as well.

“I do want you to get help. Your impulsiveness has gotten worse since we’ve been together.” He covered my hand with his. “I hope it has nothing to do with me, but I suspect it might.”

I wanted to talk but waited for a few seconds to make sure he was done.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. I know that it could be sabotaging our relationship, and trust me, it’s the last thing I want to do. You are the best guy I’ve ever known, and certainly the best guy I’ve ever dated.”

He gave a rueful smile.

I continued, “And whether or not you stay with me, I promise I will see someone for therapy to figure this out.”

“Stop it. Stop it now.” He stood, and there was uncharacteristic anger in his voice, and his face was beet red as he said, “Every damn time there’s a problem you think I’m going to leave you. Stop it. I AM NOT JOE! I’m not going to leave you. When I say I love you, I mean I love you. You. With every fault, with every good thing, with every laugh, with every tear, with every impulsive and stupid move. I love you.”

By then I was bawling. I didn’t deserve him. Even when he was saying that he’d never leave me, he was not a weakling. He was a man. A real man who knew what it took to make a relationship work.

“Why haven’t you ever been married?” I said, changing the subject, and wiping the tears and snot off my face with a handkerchief George handed me. “I mean, I think you are the best catch there is. Why haven’t you ever gotten married?”

“Guess I was waiting for you.”

The answer thrilled me, but there had to be more than that.

“Have you ever been engaged?”

“Kind of. Not really. Well maybe. Yes.”

Surprised, I said, “It doesn’t sound definite.”

“It was on my part, I thought. Not on hers. She wore my ring, but wasn’t committed to the relationship. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Was it someone I knew? Was she pretty? How long ago was this? Do you still think about her?” I was breathless from my questioning.

Finally, George smiled. Then he laughed. “There’s my Sam.”

“We’re going out,” Sarah yelled from the other room.

“Clancy’s going with us,” was Adam’s contribution. “So we’ll all be…‌you know…‌out.”

“For a while,” Sarah said. I heard the leash being clipped to Clancy’s collar and the door slam as they left together. I looked at the man I loved.

George grinned at me and then kissed me. And then we made up in the best way we knew how.

It wasn’t even noon and it was already my favorite birthday ever.

Later, I stared at the ceiling and thought about how I had been acting.
I’ll talk to Marian Dougherty in the morning.
Marian was also a therapist at the Quincy Community Clinic. I’d met her on my first day as she helped clear out the office where my boss had been murdered.
Yeah. She’ll be good. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.

Then my mind went back to the argument with George. It came back to me that before I’d told him to leave, he’d said that he didn’t know if he “could do this anymore.”

He was dozing but I tapped him on the shoulder. More than once. Finally he opened his eyes, saw my face near his, and smiled. Then he must have noticed my quizzical look.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’m not trying to start an argument, but I think we left something unfinished.” I took my time so I didn’t say anything stupid. “You said, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ while looking at me. What did you mean?” I was careful that my tone wasn’t accusatory.

He hesitated, then said, “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it now. But just know it had nothing to do with breaking up with you.” He took my chin in his hand, and gently kissed me.

“Okay. I trust you.” I kissed him back. “And I want you to know I’m talking to a therapist tomorrow at work, and I’ll set something up. Would you be willing to come in for a session sometime later?”

“Sure, but why?”

“Well, it’s often helpful for a couple to meet with an objective third party to work out some kinks. It may not be necessary, but just in case it is, I’m glad you said yes.”

I sat up, and started toward the shower. I’d been surprised with my party this morning, and hadn’t even brushed my teeth.

I turned around, and said, “It’s tough when a therapist needs a therapist. But it happens all the time. We’re human. However, it will be hard for me to allow someone else to help me through this, since I know all the techniques she’s likely to use. And I’m a little stubborn.” At that I was rewarded with a grin from George. “But I’m going to do it. You are worth it.” I paused and smiled. “We are worth it.”

When I’d finished my shower, I found George in the living room watching ESPN. I figured it was time to get back to the murders, so I did.

“Honey,” I said, “I’m going to get on the computer for a while. Okay?”

“Sure. It’s your birthday,” he said, with his face still directed toward the TV. “But later, I have plans for us.”

I went over and hugged him, then set up my laptop on the small dining room table that sometimes doubled as my desk. I could see George from there, and my heart leaped as I noted how perfectly he fit here. Right on my couch. Watching TV. And every now and then he would turn and smile at me.

If my life were a musical, as I’d often wished it were, this would be the moment to break out into song.

Finally pulling myself back to reality, I decided that I’d had enough distractions for the day. Back to the mystery at hand.

I pulled up Google and did a search on Richie Klingman. He’d gone to GCHS, as I’d anticipated. It hit me that I still didn’t know the names of the two dead guys.

“Hey, George, did you ever get the names of the guys who were murdered?”

“Yeah. I don’t have the info handy. Check out the Whig online.” Our local paper had gone with a digital edition as well as their paper one. So I did a search and came up with the names.

“Did they identify them with imprints of their teeth?”

“Yep,” he said, finally turning away from the tube for a moment. “Everything is accessible nowadays.” He turned back right away, lest he miss some statistic. I loved sports and yelled at games with the best of them. But all the stats bored me.

I turned my attention from the bigger screen to the little screen before me. I plugged in the first of the three names I got from the Whig, John Delacourt. He was from Quincy and went to St. Francis High School. Creighton Jameson was next. He and his family moved here when he was in high school, and he also went to SFHS. So two out of three went to St. Francis. Richie was the only one of the three from GC. They all graduated the same year, so they probably knew each other. That didn’t give me any information that helped with the blue hoodie notion. But I could check it out with Richie whether he knew the other two or not.

I decided to delve some more. The obituary for Delacourt stated he played football, basketball, and baseball for SFHS.

“An all-around jock,” I said aloud. I looked over at George to make sure that my talking hadn’t disturbed him.

Some of the same information surfaced when I looked at Jameson’s obit. He had played basketball and baseball for SFHS. It also said donations in his memory could be made to the local arm of the American Cancer Society. Jameson was the guy we assumed was the murderer, and according to the Coroner’s report, his cancer was so far advanced that he would have lived for only a few days longer if he hadn’t taken his own life.

I thought that Richie himself had played soccer, or wrestled or something, for GC, but I wasn’t sure. I could check with him on that too.

The stuff I learned online was interesting, but it didn’t get me any closer to figuring out the mystery of the blue hoodie. Or the reason Creighton Jameson killed Delacourt, tried to kill Richie, and then killed himself. A suicide didn’t surprise me, if Jameson was that ill, but I couldn’t see him killing the other two. At least I couldn’t come up with the reason. A little more snooping might help.

Whoever killed Delacourt, and I assumed it was Jameson, had pushed the knife in below the heart and then angled it upward so that it ended up in the heart. But when he’d stabbed Richie, he missed the heart because of the dextrocardia. Why did he make Richie hold on to the knife itself? He hadn’t done that with Jameson. Maybe he’d wanted people to think Richie had killed the first guy and then committed suicide.