Suspicion of Innocence (20 page)

"Hi, everybody."

"Where's Polly?"

Gail said, "Karen, go brush your teeth."
 

"Mom, I have to leave!"

Marilyn came in. "It's okay. I'll wait." She had perfect nails and a tan Gail suspected she maintained at a salon. She spoke as if divulging a great secret. "Guess who's going to be forty years old? Ryan. He's so gloomy. I want to give him a surprise party next Sunday afternoon. Can you come?"

"We'd love to." Gail looked at Dave.

Dave crossed his arms, leaning on the counter. "Well, if Gail says we're coming, I guess we are."

Marilyn looked uncertainly from one of them to the other.

Gail said, "We’ll let you know. Our schedules are crazy these days."

"Oh, I understand about that." Marilyn made a quick smile.

No one spoke.

Then Karen came running back in. Dave swept up her beach bag and pulled her into a hug. "Bye, princess. You be a good girl for Daddy." He held her tightly, his eyes closed.

Karen squirmed. "Daddy, I gotta go."

He bent to kiss the top of her head. "Love you."

"Love you too. Bye, Dad. Bye, Mom."

The kitchen door slammed behind her. Through the window Gail could see her running across the grass, climbing into Marilyn's new minivan, three or four other girls already inside, bouncing up and down.

Gail turned around. "Why did you say that to Marilyn?"

Dave let a few seconds go by. "Gail..."

She started across the kitchen. "I have to go to work."

"Wait. I need to talk to you."

She turned around.

He flexed his fingers, then folded his arms. "I've been thinking I might stay out at the marina for a while."

"Why? What do you mean?"

"There's this cabin cruiser. The owner's flying back to New York for the summer and I told him never mind the dockage fee, maybe we could work something out."

Gail only stared at him.

Dave said, "You know how we've been lately. Not that it's anybody's fault. It just happens. Relationships have their up moments and their down moments. Maybe we need to clear out the cobwebs, see what we've got."

She crossed the kitchen to stand in front of him, where he leaned against the counter. "I don't understand."

"Maybe we need a break from each other. It could do some good." He exhaled, hands on his hips, as if he were trying to catch his breath. "Come on. Don't make this hard, okay?"

"Dave, my God!" She laughed. "What are we supposed to tell Karen, Daddy's gone to find himself?"
 

"I don't know. Tell her I'm working."
 

"You tell her."
 

There was no reply.

"Dave, this is ridiculous. I know we've got problems, but we won't solve them that way. Running off to the marina? I can't believe you'd do that."

"What, is this a big surprise to you?"

"But you never
said
anything." Gail pushed her hair back with both hands, then let them fall to her sides. "All right. I know things aren't great. But we're both at fault. We never see each other. I come home, you're lacing up your tennis shoes. When do we talk?"

He laughed wearily. "I can't deal with this anymore."

"Have you even tried?" Gail waited, then said, "We don't have to let this happen."

"Gail—" Dave turned around and leaned on the counter, head dropping level with his extended arms. "I feel like I'm going to die. I can't move. I can't breathe."

"It's Renee, isn't it? You've been like this ever since the funeral."

He lifted his head, smiling tightly. "You mean I'm depressed or something? It'll all go away?" "We could see someone," she said.
 

"What, a marriage counselor?"
 

"Yes."

"Do you really want to?"

Gail hesitated. "I think it would help."

''Do you really
want
to?'' His blue eyes fixed on her.

"We should."

After a few seconds, Dave picked up his coffee mug from the table, checking to see if he had any left. "I'll tell you something I've figured out lately. Don't do things you don't want to do."

Gail had thought—usually during one of their protracted silences—that she would be just as happy single. She had even—in an angrier moment—thought of his sixteen-foot open boat exploding in a ball of flame and sinking into the Atlantic. But reality was different.

She sat down sideways in a chair. "Will you be here this weekend?"

"I don't know." Dave ran water in his mug, then wedged it into a rack in the dishwasher. "I'll probably take some stuff down there this morning. How about if I come over Sunday for dinner?"

"All right."

"Or we could all go out if you'd rather." Gail swung her foot, legs crossed. "How long have you planned to do this?"

He closed the dishwasher and seemed to concentrate on the buttons. "I should have talked to you before about it. I know that. I'm sorry."

"You made love to me last night. The first time in two weeks."

He seemed unsure of how to respond. "I care about you, Gail. I always will."

"Knowing what you would say to me this morning."

He took his truck keys out of his pocket. "I'll give you a call tonight or tomorrow."

"Fine. But let's not plan on Sunday dinner."

He wasn't looking at her. "Then Karen can go with me if you don't want to go."

"Maybe you can explain all this to her."

"I'm not worried about Karen," he said. "She's okay. She'll be okay no matter what happens. Don't you think she's smart enough to see what's going on already? If we force ourselves to stay together for her sake, we'll end up hurting her even worse."

"What pop psychology book did you get that out of?"

"Look. Don't make me the bad guy. I'm not going to walk out on you. I'm going to keep on running the business and paying what I can on the household expenditures. I want to see Karen as much as possible. I expect us to work out a reasonable arrangement."

After a few seconds, Gail said, "You've been talking to an attorney. Who?"

"I don't think you need to know that."

"Who?"

Dave considered, then said, "Joseph Erwin."

She laughed out loud. "Joe Erwin? He's a divorce lawyer with screws for teeth. I hear he charges ten grand to take a case. What did you have to pay him for a consultation?' '

Dave's voice was low, menacing. "Don't make me fight with you, Gail."

"That's what Joe Erwin does. Why else did you choose him? What did he advise you? Wait and see if you'd get any more money for the marina before you left? It was my money that started the marina, so don't think you're going to blithely walk off with it."

He yelled, "You love it, don't you? Controlling people. I know what you're doing. Punishing me for being friends with her."

Gail yelled back, "Friends? You met her for lunch for two years. You lent her money. You knew it was wrong because you hid it from me. You had a wife and a mistress, but you didn't have the guts to sleep with both of us."

He leaned on the table, his face inches from hers. "Gail. Fuck off. Go fuck yourself."

Gail's chair fell over backward when she stood up. She was shaking. "I don't care what you do. Leave. Go to hell. When I get back from downtown I don't want to see anything of yours here."

"I'll move my things when I get ready to move my things." He followed her out of the kitchen, walking beside her through the living room. "Don't touch anything. And don't try to take the marina, Gail." She could feel flecks of spittle on her cheek. "Don't try it. I'm warning you."

She whirled on him. "Speak to your damn attorney on Monday. I'm not going to discuss this with you."

Dimly, as if from a far-off place, she heard the doorbell chime—long, stately tones. "I'm not here," she said, going toward the bedroom.

He screamed after her. "What am I, your fucking maid?"

She went into the bathroom and slammed the door, sponged off her face with cool water on a hand towel. She sank down onto the toilet lid, gasping, her forehead on her crossed arms. She heard the doorbell chime again. After a few seconds, she raised up and saw herself in the mirror. Without makeup her eyes looked indistinct. Her permed hair was still flat from sleep, her skin blotchy.

There were three sharp raps on the bathroom door. "Gail. You've got company."

''For God's sake— ''

"It's that cop."

She opened the door. Dave held out a calling card between two fingers. It said, Frank Britton, Metro-Dade Homicide.

Dave was behind her when she walked into the living room. He kept going, through the dining room toward the kitchen.

Britton stood up from the end of the sofa. The garage door slammed and his head swiveled in that direction, then back to her.

"Good morning, Ms. Connor," Britton said. He was wearing the usual nondescript sports jacket and polite expression. At his feet was a cardboard box, and on top of that, a thick accordion file, its flap folded over and secured with a cord.

She nodded, not in the mood to return his smile. "Sergeant. I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but I'm getting ready to go downtown."

"Sorry for the inconvenience on a Saturday. I left a message at your office I'd be by."

"You did? I missed it. It was one of those weeks."

"I know how it is." He motioned to the sofa as if she were the visitor and he the host.

She didn't move. "I really am in a rush. What have you got, Renee's papers? If you could just leave them—"
 

"No, I can't do that. We need to go over a couple things. If not now, then I'm going to have to ask you to come out to headquarters. Sorry for the bother."

He used a smile and a touch of regret, she noticed, to soften the rough edges. She didn't have to talk to him at all, but it would be easier to talk than argue.

She said, "All right. I'll fix us both some coffee."

The half cup she had poured herself earlier was cold and the pot was empty. She busied herself refilling it. Water, filter, coffee grounds, tablespoon. Neat measurements, channeling her thoughts. She observed her own hand holding the spoon. Not a tremor. The storm Dave had produced raged far beneath the surface. Britton's visit would keep it there for a while longer. After he left she would go to her office and bury herself in work for several more numbing hours. And then decide what to do. Probably call Charlene Marks. Ask if she'd mind doing a divorce for a friend. Gail took a sudden breath, her heart stopping, then starting again with a thump.

Britton had put the accordion file on the table. He remained standing, hands in his pockets, watching her.

Gail said, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black, thanks."

She took another mug from the cabinet over the coffeemaker and placed it next to hers. Mismatched, she noticed idly. Hers with a Far Side cartoon, the other a souvenir of the Coconut Grove Boat Show.

He said, "You and Renee had the same father, didn't you?" When she looked at him, he explained, "You're a lot taller."

"Five-nine. Not that tall. Our father was over six feet," Gail said. "Renee took after our mother. Sergeant, do you want to sit down?"

Glancing toward the table, Gail noticed the overturned chair and started to cross the kitchen to pick it up. "Sorry." She wondered how much shouting he had heard before he pushed the doorbell.

"No, I've got it." He smiled and turned the chair upright. As he sat, he reached for the deer mask still on the table. "Looks like the same one you got out of Renee's apartment."

"It is. I'm delivering it tomorrow."

"So did you get back over there? Everything cleaned out?"

Gail shook her head. "My mother is supposed to go with a friend of hers and a helper this morning." She poured the mugs full of coffee, then added milk to the one with the cartoon on it. Britton scooted his file further along the table when Gail sat down. They faced each other across a corner.

"You're not going along?" he asked.

"No." Gail had not insisted when Irene had said she could take care of it herself.

Britton sipped his coffee. "Mrs. Connor apparently wants to donate the clothes. And sell the condo. The market is pretty good in the Grove right now."

"You seem to know a lot about what my mother wants to do, Sergeant."

"We've talked a few times. She reminds me of an aunt of mine, back when I was a kid in Ocala. That's where I'm from. Florida horse country. You ever been up there?"

Gail made a polite smile. "Not recently."

"Well, it's changed. Fast food and traffic."

She waited for him to get to the point.

Britton sipped from his mug. ''I talked to your mother on Tuesday, I believe, and she mentioned the money Renee left you. What was it, a couple hundred thousand? I didn't think Renee had that kind of money."