The Abortionist's Daughter (19 page)

“Have what?”

“A friendship with someone you used to love.”

“Of course,” Huck lied.

“Then you know what I’m talking about. There are a lot of ways to fall in and out of love, don’t you think?”

Huck found it presumptuous for her to be giving him advice about love. They hardly knew each other. He flashed on Carolyn, the way she smiled with her mouth turned down.

“I figured you guys would come and talk to me eventually,” Piper went on, wiping her mouth. “I figured you’d toss around the theory that I was jealous after all these years. Don’t waste your time, Huck,” she said, not unkindly.

“When do you think you’ll have the final report?” he asked gruffly.

“Any day now,” said Piper. “It’s not going to have any surprises in it. I know people expect it to, but it won’t. And Huck?”

“What?”

“I can see Frank finally exploding,” she said. “I can see him throwing a glass across the room. But I can’t see him going so far as to do what you think he did.”

With a squint, Huck signaled that he would consider this.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t thank me,” she replied. “Thank Frank.”

“What for?”

“For putting up with guys like you,” she said.

—————

It was after seven by the time he pulled into his driveway that evening. Lights blazed from every window, and he could hear the pulsing bass of hip-hop music. Inside he found Megan on the sofa, sitting cross-legged with an open textbook in her lap. She set down her highlighter.

“Hot day on the trail, honey?” she asked brightly.

Huck went directly into the kitchen and turned off the radio and opened the refrigerator and got a beer. He still felt slightly panicked at seeing her here, as he had this morning, but no longer did it have anything to do with breach-of-conduct issues.

“What happened with Eve Kelly?” Megan called.

He came back into the living room. There was no place else to sit besides the sofa, so he stood. “Megan,” he said, “leave the investigation to us.”

“What about Piper? Did you talk to her?”

“I did, but like I said. It’s not your job. And I can’t tell you anything.”

“Did you know your phone is out of order?” said Megan. “I ended up using my cell to order pizza. Do you happen to have money, though? All I’ve got is my father’s credit card, which I’m only supposed to use in case of emergency. I don’t think this qualifies,” she added ruefully.

“Did you call your father?”

“No,” said Megan.

“You said you would!”

Megan shrugged. “He can call me if he wants.”

“Megan, look,” said Huck. “You can’t stay here. I could lose my job. You must have a friend’s house you could go to. You grew up here, you have to have friends.”

“They’re all off on vacation with their families. My good friends, anyway.”

“Then get a hotel.”

“Like Motel Six?”

“There’s still nothing else?”

“Everything else is booked up with reporters,” she said.

Reporters who are going to be showing up here any moment, Huck thought. He wondered why they weren’t already here, in fact. He went to the windows and was in the process of lowering the blinds when the doorbell rang.

“There’s the pizza.” Megan started to get up, but Huck waved her back down. He went out to the hallway and opened the door. There stood a young man with a black woolen beanie pulled tightly over his head.

“Bill Branson,” he said, holding out his hand. “I believe we’ve met?”

CHAPTER TEN

——————

OVERALL MEGAN CONSIDERED
herself a calm, responsible, and socially mature individual. Having brokered many a compromise when her parents fought over what she could and couldn’t do as a child, she felt she had a knack for dissolving tensions whenever they began to thicken. Which was why she’d ordered the pizza and even teased Huck a little when he walked in the door that night. Granted it was a little manipulative, but she was sure that if she could only get him to relax, then he wouldn’t kick her out of his house.

But when Megan looked up and saw none other than Bill Branson standing on Huck’s doorstep, she lost it—not only did she cry out in surprise, but the cry itself sounded like the kind of yelp her brother used to make when things didn’t go his way.

Peering around Huck, Bill puppeted his eyebrows up and down.

“Why hello, Megg-Ann,” he called. “Didn’t know you two were on a first-name basis. Can I come in?” he asked, and Huck, to Megan’s great consternation, stepped aside and let Bill actually enter his house.

“
Darn
you’re looking comfortable,” Bill said to Megan. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Bill Branson,” he said again, clearing his throat, and this time he took off his gloves and offered his hand to Huck. Huck shook it. Cold air lapped at Megan’s bare feet.

“It’s late,” Huck said. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to see you, detective.”

Megan suspected that was not the case.

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I can’t seem to get ahold of you during the day,” Bill said. “You’re a busy man. I left you a couple of messages, but you didn’t call back. Not that I’m criticizing. I know you’ve got a lot to do. But I felt it was important to speak with you sooner rather than later. I hope you don’t mind that I showed up at your house. You’re a hard guy to track down. Here, mind if I shut the door so we don’t let all this cold air in?”

Huck obliged him, which infuriated Megan. Didn’t he know that once the door was shut, Bill would never leave?

“So what’s this about?” asked Huck.

Bill smoothed the new growth of a mustache. “I don’t know if Megan should be in on this,” he confided.

“Cut the crap, Bill,” said Megan.

“Megan can stay,” said Huck.

“It’s not going to be easy for her,” Bill said.

“Just tell me what you came to tell me,” said Huck.

“Okay, then,” said Bill. “It has to do with Dr. Duprey, of course. Specifically, about her use of recreational drugs.” He waved at Megan to be silent. “I have some names, names of people she dealt with these past couple of months. Maybe your department knows about them. Remember that meth lab you guys busted up last fall? Guys had to go in in hazmat suits? Well, sorry, but you only got the lackeys.” He handed Huck a piece of paper. “These are the guys who run the show. Plus a few of their customers.”

“And how do you know these people?”

“Through a friend of a friend,” Bill explained. “See, my roommate and I were talking one night, and he was telling me about this friend who owned a meth lab. And this friend of his had told him he was selling to this abortion doctor. He was getting a real kick out of the fact that here was this prominent lady doctor getting high in the privacy of her own office while everyone in town thought she was such a saint.”

“That is so full of shit,” said Megan. “That is just
so
full of shit, Huck.”

Bill glared at her. “And how many times did you see your mother wearing short-sleeved shirts in the past couple of months? Scary, isn’t it,” he said to Huck, “these people who have good jobs and live in nice houses and use their remodeled bathrooms for shooting up.”

Huck scanned the list of names. “So Diana’s name is on this list. So what?”

Bill nodded, as though he’d anticipated the question. “See, I’m at my desk studying one night last fall, and my roommate’s friend comes over and he’s high as a kite, and he starts talking about all the people who owe him money. People who won’t pay up, and what he’s going to do to them. And he mentioned a couple of very mean things. And after he left, I found this list.”

“It’s total bullshit,” Megan told Huck. “He’s just trying to find an excuse to be with me. My mother wasn’t doing meth, you fuckface,” she said to Bill.

Bill squinted. “Like you know her so well? If that’s the case, how come the two of you talked a total of three times since you left for college?”

“It was way more than three times,” Megan retorted, “and besides, we wanted it that way. Don’t we have a stalking law in this state?” she asked Huck.

“Megan, Megan,” sighed Bill. “Have I ever hurt you? Have I ever done anything really, really wrong?”

Megan’s mind raced furiously back through the e-mails. She thought of the phone calls and the roses and the teddy bears and the way Natalie felt sorry for him and took him out for drinks in September and came back and told Megan he was going to be all right, it would just take time. Had Bill ever hit her? Threatened her? She had no real case, and she knew enough about the law to know that you couldn’t get somebody arrested just because you were sick of him mooning over you.

“You seem to know quite a bit about Diana,” said Huck.

“Diana was a sweetheart,” said Bill. “Look. I’ll be honest. I’ve had a hard time getting over Megan. We were very, very close, if you know what I mean. So when Megan ended things, I kind of went off the deep end. And Diana helped me out. A
lot.
I could talk to her. She understood how I felt. But she also shared a lot with me. I told her meth was an ugly, ugly drug and she should get herself into treatment if she couldn’t stop using. She appreciated my concern. We helped each other out.”

“He’s making this entire thing up,” Megan told Huck.

“Talk to the dealer,” Bill advised. “You’d be very, very surprised.”

“And this is his list?” Huck said.

“It is indeed.”

“His handwriting?”

“Indeed.”

“Can I keep it?”

“Indeed,” said Bill.

“How can I get in touch with you?” Huck asked.

“Here, let me write my phone number down.” He took back the list and scribbled his name on it in pencil. Then he handed it back to Huck. “Look. I’m sorry to bother you guys. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“See what I mean?” Megan demanded. “He’s not here to help, he’s here to snoop on me. How did you know I was here, anyway?”

“Maybe you should park your car somewhere other than the parking lot of the firehouse,” said Bill. “That is, if you don’t want reporters coming by. Well. I hope this helps. You call me if you have any questions, detective. Day or night.”

When he was gone, Megan leaped off the sofa. “Oh my god, he’s such a
toad
! He’s such a
slimeball
! I was out of my
mind
to ever go out with him! Oh my
god,
why can’t he just
forget
about me?”

“Megan,” said Huck, “you need to call your father.”

“I can’t!” wailed Megan. “Oh, what is
wrong
with him? My mother just
died,
for god’s sake, and he still won’t leave me
alone.
I wish he would just drop off the face of this
planet
!”

“Please call your father,” said Huck. “You can’t stay here. Reporters are going to have a field day with this, not to mention my boss.”

“Fine,” wept Megan. “Gimme my phone.”

She knew he was right, she knew she shouldn’t be staying here. Any minute now a reporter was going to see her car and come knocking on Huck’s door. The whole thing would look very, very bad.

But she couldn’t bear to go back to her father, either. How could she explain her confusion—her fear that her father had done the unthinkable, versus her conviction that he hadn’t? What did you do when trust and suspicion were all knotted up in one big family rat’s nest?

And so when her father didn’t answer either his cell or his hotel-room phone, Megan was relieved.

“Don’t fall asleep on me again!” Huck warned as she sank down on the sofa.

“Like I could sleep right now,” said Megan ruefully. “I am like so wired I couldn’t sleep if you gave me a Valium. And by the way, my mother was not doing meth, I guarantee you.”

“Any other drugs that she might owe money on? Because sometimes—well, I know a lot of doctors use. They’re up all night, they’re busy, it’s right there within reach.”

Megan flashed on the bottle of Dexedrine her mother kept in the glove compartment of her car. Six years ago Diana had fallen asleep while driving. They’d gotten up at five in the morning for an out-of-town swim meet and were cruising east on a long straight stretch of highway when suddenly a loud vibration startled them both. Megan shouted, and Diana swerved back into the right lane. Shaken, she had to pull off the road to regain her composure, but after that incident she got a prescription for the pills. As far as Megan knew, she only used them to stay awake while driving.

The police didn’t need to know this, Megan thought. “My mother smoked a little pot, but she wasn’t a speed freak,” she said. “I have to go pee.”

“Go pee. I’m going to make some dinner,” sighed Huck.

“I ordered pizza,” Megan reminded him.

“I don’t feel like pizza,” Huck said.

Megan went into the bathroom, glad for a moment alone to clear her thoughts. She turned on the fan and sat down and peed. For a guy, he kept an awfully neat bathroom, she thought. The towels hung straight, and the counter was free of clutter, and there was even a sprig of dried flowers hanging on the wall behind the toilet.

She got up and washed her hands, then dried them on the little guest towel—surely something his girlfriend put up, she thought. She wondered who his girlfriend was. There were no pictures around, but the flowers and ruffles in the house suggested someone plumpish and nursy. Maybe someone from the Midwest. She reminded herself it was none of her business.

She paused, listening, then quietly opened the top drawer by the sink. There was a hairbrush, an electric razor, a wrinkled tube of ointment “for use on rash as directed,” several toothbrushes, toothpaste, a stick of Arrid, Vaseline, Rolaids, Murine, Advil, and Dr. Scholl’s foot powder. She opened the second drawer and found a neat stack of washcloths, along with a zippered makeup kit containing pink lipstick and black mascara and a tube of concealer. Tucked behind this was a box of Trojans. No surprises, no revelations.

Then she opened the bottom drawer, which contained a messy jumble of cords and instruction manuals and loose Q-tips and cotton balls. But toward the back she saw a bundle of something tied together with a blue ribbon. Curious, she pushed aside the cords to remove what was a stack of linen handkerchiefs, each one pressed to a sheen and embroidered white on white with the initials
AHB.
The fabric felt silky soft and cool, like fancy sheets in summer.