Mudlark (22 page)

"I saw what may be the pickup that ran Freddy off the road," I said. "Ruth was offering me the use of her
telephone."

"When did you see it?" He skirted the marigolds.

I explained the sequence of events, and he swore under his breath. "I tried to reach you," I added,
defensive.

He tugged at his mustache. "Well, you'd better come home now and give Dale the whole story."

"Okay. Did you stop by the hospital?"

"The hospital?"

"I think Lottie wants to see you. I did leave that message with the secretary."

"I knew I should have checked with the office before I left campus." He did a double-take. "How do you
know Lottie wanted to see me? I thought she couldn't talk?"

I explained Clara and the felt board as we headed home together. Bonnie showed no disposition to
leave the garden.
She
hadn't weeded out spinach. As we went off, Ruth called out, "He would never do a
thing like that, not my Ben."

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring wave. Tom started the sprinkler.

After some delay, Jay got through to Dale and sat in the nook with me while I explained about the man
with the pickup.

"You're not sure." Dale sounded resigned.

"I just caught a glimpse. Ruth Adams said he was bragging about having a lot of money. He's been
unemployed."

Dale sighed. "Kevin's a sorehead, but I hope it's not him. We went to school together. I'll bring him in,
Mrs. Dodge. Will you be available?" When I said I would, he added, "Tell your brother-in-law we'll need him, too. I'll
contact Ms. Sweet."

"Freddy's in Kayport with Darla. The injunction--"

"Yeah, it was served this morning. Been a busy day. I'll call you when I've tracked Kevin down. Thanks.
Will you put Jay back on?"

Jay listened to him. I made a fresh pot of coffee and a cup of herb tea. Finally Jay muttered something
and hung up. He was looking thoughtful.

"What did he say?"

"He pulled the McKays in for questioning. Annie says Bob was with her all evening the night of the
murder."

I clucked my tongue. "Bonnie will be disappointed. Bob was her number one suspect."

"Tough." He smiled.

The right frame of mind. I said, "Did Tom say anything to you about assault charges?"

He raised his cup, grimacing when the hot liquid touched his lips. "Dale told me right after the murder.
Tom told me later while we were doing the floor."

"And you didn't mention it to me?"

"The charges were dismissed, Lark."

"Guys. You always stick together."

"It was confidential information. I spent the morning listening to faculty members' nightmares about
violation of privacy, and God knows your mother's made her feelings clear. I even agree with them, most of the
time. I hear a lot I keep to myself. If Tom had wanted you to know about the...episodes, he would have told
you."

"Wonderful. The man is living under my roof."

"Our roof." He swallowed tea and set the cup down with deliberation. "The first time was a flashback.
There's less excuse for the second, the one in California. That was a drunk and disorderly charge while he was at
UCLA. How did you hear about Tom's rap sheet?"

"Clara Klein."

"She's a busy woman."

"She's worried about Tom."

"So she says. What's the deal with Lottie?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should call Clara and ask her to come to the hospital with you."

"Maybe I should." He picked up the laughably slim telephone book and started paging through it. "Klein
with an
ei
--here it is." He reached for the phone and began poking numbers. Clara was out. He left a
message.

"Lottie was expecting you this afternoon."

"I'll call her room. Matt's probably still there." He flipped to the front of the book and looked up the
hospital. Matt answered almost as soon as Jay gave the switchboard the room number. He told Matt he'd try to
make it in during evening visiting hours.

I was still brooding. When the phone conversation ended, I said, "Does Bob's alibi hold up?"

Jay shrugged. "Annie's staff at the
Gazette
say she only popped in for ten minutes after dinner
the night of the murder. That was unusual because she tends to hang around while they're putting the paper to
bed. According to Dale, Annie says Bob drank his way through dinner. She made him follow her to the
Gazette
office afterward."

"Sounds like Bob. What time?"

"About eight-thirty. He was driving the Mercedes. She had the Blazer. He parked behind the newspaper
office and waited while she checked on the printing crew. When she went back to the parking lot, he seemed
soberer, so she followed him home in the Blazer. They spent the evening together in their house in the Enclave and
went to bed early. Nobody's contradicted Annie's version of things so far."

"Two cars?"

He nodded. "She says she kept Bob's taillights in sight all the way home. They drove on the Ridge
Road."

"There's not much traffic on that route."

He smoothed his mustache. "No. Dale's unlikely to find another driver who saw them, though the
Mercedes is distinctive. He's looking for corroborating witness, of course."

"What about the staff at the Enclave?"

"There's a handyman. He's out of town at the moment."

"The son, then..."

"Rob McKay says he was out with friends until two A.M. When he got home, the Mercedes and the
Blazer were in the garage and his folks had gone to bed, as far as he knew."

"I hope Dale's double-checking."

Jay looked pained. "He's a good investigator, Lark. He went to the Blue Oyster first and got confirmation
of Clara's story. Then he drove to the Enclave with a warrant to search the vehicles. The M.E. thinks the body was
moved, post mortem, and there were fibers on her clothes that came from a type of carpeting used in cars."

That was news to me. "What kind of car?"

"Not a Mercedes." Jay's mouth twitched at the corners. "Dale said Bob McKay was a little under the
weather this morning."

"God, I hope so. What about Bob's date with Cleo?"

"When Dale started in on that, Annie called her lawyer. Bob clammed up. Hell, they both did."

"That's too bad." The word clammed reminded me of Clara's proposed expedition. I described it with
less than enthusiasm, but Jay said he thought distracting Matt was a good idea and that he'd like to go over to Coho
Island himself sometime. Before I could protest again that I didn't like clams, Tom came in covered with grime. He
went off for a shower. Then Freddy and Darla showed up. Darla was full of the injunction saga.

The archaeologist the tribe had hired had found evidence in James Swan's pioneer diary, and in an
unpublished letter at the Kayport museum, that the site of the resort had been a major Nekana summer
encampment in the 1840s. He wanted to dig.

I had once spent a summer on a dig in northern California. "Why didn't they find out about the
encampment before they bulldozed the dunes? I thought the government required an archaeological survey of all
big developments."

Darla's lip curled. "They sank a couple of test pits, but they didn't want to find anything. Our guy says
the test pits were in the wrong area. What's more, he can prove it."

"That's great, Darla." I was hungry. I'd skipped lunch. I began taking leftovers out of the
refrigerator.

"I wish I didn't have to be in Portland this fall." Darla's eyes sparkled.

Jay took plates from the dishwasher. "Will the dig delay construction?" He began setting the table in the
nook. Maybe he'd skipped lunch too.

Darla found paper napkins and folded them neatly. "The archaeologist says he can keep it going until
the rainy season, even if he doesn't find anything."

According to the
Oregonian
, the peninsula had received two inches of rain in the previous four
days. I set the ceramic container of pilaf in the microwave. "It gets rainier?"

Darla laughed. She was in a fine mood.

Freddy had gone up to verify that Tom's computer was still working. He thudded into the room. "Hey,
dinner. Where's Tom?"

"Shower." I set the time clock, started the oven, and retrieved the leftover veggies from the refrigerator.
I decided we could do without salad.

Jay doled out flatware. "Lark thinks she saw the pickup that ran you off the road, Freddy."

"No lie? When? Who is it?"

I explained about Kevin Johnson through a flurry of excited speculation. Darla didn't know Kevin
Johnson and wasn't sure she could identify the driver, but she'd had a good look at his passenger.

"I saw that guy Hagen in town today," Freddy said. "I'll bet he's the one who hired Johnson."

"Who hired Johnson?" Tom entered from the back hallway.

That led to another round of questions and speculations. I zapped the veg and set out the remaining dill
rolls. Clara Klein didn't call during dinner, which disappeared like rain in the Mojave. We polished off the tart
before I thought to save Matt a slice. Jay was uncharacteristically silent during the meal. So was Tom.

Afterward, before I started the clean-up, Freddy announced that he and Darla were taking in a film in
Astoria.

"You rented a car," I deduced--not a difficult mental exercise. They hadn't come home on the county
bus.

Freddy made a face. "It's a Ford. Pretty boring."

"Boring is good," Jay said. "Be careful."

Freddy swore he'd keep a wary eye out for pickups. He and Darla made a perfunctory offer to do the
dishes. When I told them to forget it, they dashed off in obvious high spirits.

I carried the salmon platter back to the kitchen. There was quite a lot left. It was a large salmon.

Tom joined me and started scraping plates. "Ah, youth. They probably don't even feel their
bruises."

Jay was using the phone. After a wordless pause he hung up. "Clara's still out. I'm going in to the
hospital, Lark. I want to see Matt anyway, and I've got a weird feeling about Lottie. You're sure I was the one she
wanted to see?"

I thought of Lottie's frantic blinking. "As sure as I can be. Clara thought so, too."

"Okay. It's only six-thirty. I'll swing by Dale's office first."

I slid the boneless slab of salmon into a plastic bag and sealed it. "Take care."

He brushed a kiss on my cheek as he went out.

Tom and I loaded the dishwasher in silence. I felt constrained in his presence. Finally I asked him how
the work was coming on his house.

"Okay, I guess. A little depressing. They were throwing stuff into the dumpster--clothes, bedding,
curtains, mattresses, the sofa."

"Don't let them touch the Morris chair."

He poured soap into the proper slot. "I salvaged that and the sideboard. Took them to Kayport in the
pickup to an outfit that does refinishing."

"Won't the chair have to be reupholstered?"

"They said they could do that, too. I was relieved. I do most of my thinking in that chair."

"I hope you aren't going to modernize the kitchen."

He smiled. "I thought I'd cover it all with yellow tile."

I looked around my too-perfect kitchen. "I overdid it, didn't I?"

"It's a nice room, Lark. It just needs to, uh, weather awhile. Your living room is exactly right."

"Thanks to Clara." I swabbed the counter and drain board. "Cup of coffee? Oh, I forgot, with the
computer up and running, you probably want to write."

He groaned. "I'm still in the revulsion stage. Do you play gin rummy?"

I laughed. "Only at gunpoint."

"Then I'll settle for coffee and conversation. I've been wanting to talk to you anyway."

I filled the coffee maker and set out mugs. "What's on your mind?"

"Room and board."

I made a ritual protest which he overrode. The contractor had told him he'd be back in his house in a
week. Tom thought that probably meant a minimum of ten days and more likely two weeks, contractors being
contractors. He was worried about his intrusion into our lives and felt uncomfortable free-loading--his words--but
admitted that the arrangement was ideal for him otherwise. I said I liked all the free salads. He smiled, but he
looked troubled.

I was troubled, too. I poured coffee into the mugs and laced mine with creamer. "I'll set up house rules,
if you like. I did that for Freddy. If you're really bothered about not paying, I can charge your insurance company a
modest per diem. And when Jay and I want the house to ourselves, I promise to kick you out for the evening."

We carried our mugs into the nook and sat down.

"You probably have writing rituals, Tom. Why don't you move your computer down to the guest room?
Then you can hole up whenever you want to."

"Sounds great." He eyed me over the rim of the cup. "I'm not just any burned-out neighbor. I'm a
murder suspect. That has to bother you."

It did bother me. I drew a deep breath. "Tell me about your grandparents' funeral."

I think I surprised him. His brows drew together and his hand clenched on the mug.

"I ran into Clara Klein at the hospital today."

He set the cup down but he didn't say anything.

I bit my lip. "Jay said you told him about the assault charges last week."

His cheeks had flushed. He was looking into his mug, anywhere but at me. "I guess I expected him to tell
you."

"Did you? Or did you hope he'd protect the little woman from unpleasant thoughts?"

In the silence that followed I could hear my heart thudding. I took a swallow of coffee.

Tom cleared his throat. "I have a problem dealing with anger."

"So do we all." I shifted in my chair. "I'm inclined to take direct action myself, and God knows I have a
hot temper. So if you're about to tell me I can't understand, don't do it. I'm reasonably intelligent and reasonably
empathic, and you are a master of the English language. Tell me what happened."

He laughed. It was not a mirthful sound, but it seemed genuine. "Here I thought you were going to ask
me about Cleo."