Since You've Been Gone (20 page)

“This gets easier and easier. Killer might as well have signed his name at the scene for all the trouble we'll have finding him,” Curry said dryly. He sipped his coffee. “Is that all the ME came up with?”

“No. There's one bit of information I found fairly interesting. It seems our Skeeter was loaded with Valium.”

“The tranquilizer? I didn't know he was a user.”

“He wasn't. No track marks, no presence of any other drugs in the body. Just a bloodstream full of Valium. There were also tiny bits of undissolved Valium in his wine bottle. That must be how it was administered. He didn't even know he was getting it.”

At last Curry looked interested. “I know in mystery novels they're always slipping undetected drugs in people's drinks, which is such crap. People
do
have taste buds. Okay, we know that if the Valium was in Skeeter's wine,
then someone gave it to him without his knowledge. But why didn't he taste it?”

“Would you taste a little medicine dissolved in something like lighter fluid? Skeeter couldn't afford the finest spirits and he didn't have a refined palate like the characters in mystery novels.”

“But when would someone have had a chance to drug his wine?”

“Skeeter kept a couple of bottles hidden behind Klein Furniture. Bought them on Saturday to see him through Sunday, when the liquor store's closed. Thought he was being real sneaky about it, but a lot of people knew. Skeeter didn't know how to be sneaky.”

Curry leaned forward. “I assume Skeeter didn't drink wine with corks. So someone just unscrewed a lid and put in the Valium when he wasn't around.” Bill nodded. “Well, why the hell would someone want to drug his wine? If they didn't want him to put up a fight, why didn't they just wait until he got drunk?”

“You've forgotten about the tolerance to alcohol he'd built up over the years. It would take a lot more than one bottle of wine to get Skeeter drunk—and someone wanted him relaxed and even more fuzzy-headed than usual.” Bill looked at Curry and smiled bitterly. “That would have made the murder even easier, maybe even a laid-back kind of sport.”

TUESDAY, 8:00 A.M.

When Rebecca entered the Ryan house at eight in the morning wearing the clothes she'd had on the night before, Betty looked at her disapprovingly. “I suppose you're too old for a lecture—”

“Yes, I am.”

“And it's not my place—”

“No, it isn't.”

“It's just that I love you like a daughter.”

Rebecca had kissed Betty's cheek. “And I love you. And don't worry—my virtue wasn't compromised last night. I had a rough evening. Clay was just looking after me.”

“In my day a doctor made a house call and gave you a bill. He didn't take you to dinner and then spend the night with you.” Betty grinned. “But if someone's goin' to take such a personal interest in you, I'm glad it's Clay. I was always especially fond of that boy. And so were you, if I remember right.”

“No comment.” Rebecca laughed and went upstairs to greet an ecstatic Sean, who'd obviously missed her.

Afterward she took a shower and went to see Molly. Bill had told her about Rebecca's vision at the restaurant and Molly asked for a report. Rebecca obliged, going lightly on the physical and mental pain Todd was experiencing. Throughout the recap, Jean had stared at Rebecca with both dislike and disbelief. Rebecca had tried to make conversation with her but received monosyllabic answers. “I guess you're no longer looking after your elderly patient in the evenings,” she finally commented just for something to say.

Jean had flushed and said firmly, “No. Friday was my last night. I arrived there at seven P.M. and didn't return until morning. It was an exhausting night. The woman
needs to be in a convalescent home. I simply couldn't handle her alone anymore.”

Rebecca had tried to look casual, but she couldn't help noting how precise Jean had been about leaving her home at seven P.M. and not returning until morning. She was emphasizing that she hadn't been home when Todd was abducted. Why?

After a couple of hours Molly had looked tired and Rebecca couldn't take much more of Jean's hostility. With promises to return soon, she went home, more puzzled about Jean than ever. She hoped Clay wouldn't forget his promise to ask around the hospital about her.

Back home, Rebecca had poured a cup of fresh vanilla-flavored coffee and wandered through the house looking for her mother. When she neared the open patio doors, she heard Suzanne talking. “Do you like it here? Are you having a good time? Becky says you're temperamental, but you seem like a pretty good guy to me.”

She peeked out on the patio to see her mother lying on a chaise longue holding a cigarette in one hand and stroking Sean's head with the other. This is the mother I remember, Rebecca thought with a pang. She used to love talking to and petting their Irish setter, Rusty. Sean had been rather cool this morning, his feelings clearly injured by her absence last night; but as soon as he saw her, he rushed forward, jumping up to put his legs around her waist. Obviously, he'd forgiven her. “Hi, Sean. Hello, Mother.”

“Hello. Sean and I are getting to know each other.”

“So I see.”

“I think he's very bright.”

“You can tell that by petting him?”

“I can tell by the alert look in his eyes. He also shakes hands like a gentleman. Besides, I did a bit of reading about his breed. I believe he ranks number two or three on the canine intelligence scale.”

“That's just your usual Australian. Sean is number one.”

Suzanne half rose from the chaise and looked at Rebecca, smiling. “Why don't you join us, proud mother?”

Rebecca sat down on a lawn chair with thick cushions in a bright floral pattern that matched the chaise. Between them was a round table bearing an ashtray, a glass of iced tea with mint, and a Harlequin romance. Two improbably gorgeous people gazed into each other's eyes on the cover. “Good book?”

Suzanne eased back on the chaise. She wore tan slacks and a loose top. She looked frail and exhausted.

“Yes, it is a good book. It's bright and happy.” A hint of amusement appeared in her blue eyes. “I'm not sure whether or not the heroine will get her guy. Things aren't looking good right now.”

“Would you like to place a wager?” Rebecca returned lightly. “I bet fifty cents that she does.”

“You've read one of these before!”

“Try a hundred.”

“I know they're predictable, but I like that. Real life is so uncertain.” Suzanne tapped her cigarette against the edge of her ashtray. Her slender hands trembled and Rebecca knew there was no alcohol in the tea. “Have you heard anything about Todd?”

Rebecca had decided not to tell Suzanne about her vision. She wouldn't want to hear about it anyway. “If I'd heard anything about Todd I would have told you.”

“Would you?”

“Yes, Mother. You've imagined this conspiracy of silence.”

“I haven't imagined it,” Suzanne said easily, “but I guess I deserve it. I've never been a tower of strength but I've been particularly useless the last few years. I'm tired of being that way.”

Rebecca was surprised. Suzanne had never been quick to admit faults. She'd always preferred playing the injured party. “If you want to be of use, you could give me some information.”

Suzanne looked at her sharply. “I don't know what information you think I might have that could possibly help.”

“Who is Todd's father?”

“Oh, not this again,” Suzanne said tiredly. She closed her eyes. Sean walked over and put his paw on her arm. She smiled and began stroking him again. “I can't tell you how many times I've been asked that question since Todd's birth.”

“I'm not asking out of curiosity,” Rebecca said. “It might bear on his abduction.”

“You think the father might have taken him?”

“Most child abductions are committed by people who aren't strangers.”

She'd remembered this from when Jonnie was taken. The police had told them over and over as they grilled everyone in the family. Frank had finally exploded with a wrath she still found hard to believe. “His father is dead,” Suzanne said. “Besides, he didn't even know Molly was pregnant.”

“But who was he?”

“You and Molly are like sisters. She'd be much more likely to tell you than me.”

“She has never even hinted to me; besides, she warned me not to ask. And you've seen more of her the last few years than I have. You've been like her mother. She adores you.”

“I adore her, too.”

Rebecca was ashamed of the jealousy she felt. She loved Molly. She knew how much Molly needed Suzanne and she was glad Suzanne had always been there for her. But Rebecca had needed her, too. She'd longed for Suzanne's love.

She forced the thoughts from her mind and returned to the subject. “You have
no
idea who Todd's father is?”

“I just said I didn't.”

“I have a feeling you're not saying all you know.” Suzanne stared out over the lawn to the gazebo, white and elegant in the bright sun. Her face had taken on a closed, stubborn look. “Mother, this is so important.”

“Don't you think I know that?” Suzanne snapped.
“Molly told me Todd's father is dead. I can only rely on what people tell me. I'm not psychic like you!”

The words vibrated in the hot summer air. Rebecca felt detached, as if she were watching two other women squabble on a lovely patio. She was embarrassed for both of them.

“Frank would tell me that remark was inexcusable,” Suzanne said meekly.

“It was.”

“I'm sorry. I promised myself… oh hell.”

“Forget it. We're all tense.”

Sean flopped over, offering his belly to Suzanne for a rub. She lowered a hand and obliged. “I really
don't
know who Todd's father is,” she said after a full minute, “but I've picked up a clue here and there. One time Molly said something about the ‘fling.' So I assume the affair was brief. She also said, ‘I guess I got what I deserved. He belonged to someone else.' She was in labor. You remember that she had to have a cesarean and she'd already been sedated. I don't think she remembers saying it and I've never reminded her.”

“Do you think he was married?”

“Probably. And I believe he was at West Virginia University with her. She couldn't get away from there fast enough, as if she didn't want him to see her pregnancy. That's why we sent her to New Orleans to be with you. You'd always been so close no one thought it was odd that she'd changed her mind and wanted to transfer to Tulane. And we thought she'd give up the baby. No one was more shocked than I when she not only decided to keep him, but to return to Sinclair.”

“I've wondered if he was a married professor and she refuses to give out his name because she's afraid the police will question his family and then the secret would be out. She could be impulsive enough to have a ‘fling,' as she called it, but she'd never want to cause pain.”

“That makes sense. She was impulsive. And she was romantic. You both were.”

“So are most teenage girls.” Rebecca smiled. “But Molly did give me my first Harlequin to read.”

“That doesn't surprise me. I pass all of mine on to her.” Suzanne stopped rubbing Sean's belly. By now he was asleep with his mouth open. “Once she said Todd didn't look like his father.”

“No, he looks like Molly only with blond hair. A lot of kids have blond hair when they're young, then it darkens.”

“Jonnie's didn't.”

“It was the color of yours.” Rebecca touched the heart-shaped locket she always wore, where Jonnie's picture nestled. She almost handed it to her mother, then stopped. Suzanne's lower lip twitched. Her throat muscles worked.

“Can you remember anything else Molly said about Todd's father?” Rebecca asked awkwardly, trying to recapture her mother's attention. But she knew that faraway look in Suzanne's eyes too well. She was seeing her beautiful, laughing boy again. He filled her mind and her heart, leaving no room for anyone else.

“I can't think now,” Suzanne finally managed. “I'm tired. I'm just going to close my eyes before lunch.”

She never ate lunch. Suzanne simply didn't want to talk to her anymore. She wanted to be alone to dream.

Rebecca stood up and turned abruptly, just in time to see Walt Sykes backing away from the patio doors. Their eyes met and Walt flushed. “Just wanted to ask Mrs. Hardison about putting more mulch on them flower beds out front.”

If he hadn't looked so guilty, Rebecca would have thought nothing of his presence. But the deep red of his cheeks and the shifting of his gaze let her know that he'd been eavesdropping.

TUESDAY, 11:15 A. M.

Molly sat rocking, staring at Todd's photo. He'd been concerned about his school picture, telling her he wasn't going
to smile because one front tooth was out and the other space was occupied by a permanent tooth halfway in. “I look weird,” he'd explained earnestly. “So no smiling.” But the photographer had made him laugh and there he was, a boy with blond hair, cinnamon colored eyes, and a strong little chin beneath the temporarily unfortunate teeth. Molly could feel the joy radiating from him.

And now he was out there somewhere. With someone. Someone kind? No. No kind person would take her child. It was either someone unbalanced or someone who'd taken him for money and didn't give a damn about him. Just like someone had not given a damn about Jonnie.

Molly's stomach muscles clutched at the thought of Jonnie's lifeless body being thrown on the vacant lot a block away from Klein Furniture. It had been the only vacant lot downtown, the building destroyed by fire the year before. Since then a video store had been built there. But was it only coincidence that Tramp had been found so close? Rebecca claimed to think so, but Molly wasn't fooled. Becky thought there was a connection between the kidnappings. But what could it be?