The Day Will Come (17 page)
I held out my hand. “No way, man. Not without his lawyer.”
His smile reminded me of the snake Lucy had killed on my farm the day she came to interview. “Ah, Ms. Crown. A pleasure to see you again. But what makes you think we’re here to talk with Mr. Granger?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Who else would there be?”
He looked around. “Well, you, for one. And maybe your boyfriend. At least I assume he’s here somewhere. And even Lucy or her—” he glanced up at Lenny, who’d moved close enough to cast a shadow—“her rather large fiancé.”
“You do realize you’re interrupting a private event?” I asked. “A wedding rehearsal.”
“Yeah,” Lenny said. “
Mine.
And you’re making it uncomfortable for my in-laws.” He gestured toward the table where Lucy sat with her folks and Tess.
“Yes,” Alexander said. “I do apologize for that. We have no intention of putting a damper on such a happy day.”
Lenny made a kind of growl, but Alexander kept on with that smile.
“Can we all just stop,” Jordan said. “I’ll talk to the friggin’ cops, if it’ll get them out of here.”
“No you won’t, young man.” Ma stepped between her son and Alexander. “Not until Mr. Crockett gets here. He’s already been called.”
She glanced at Nick, who was stowing his phone back on his belt. I wondered if Nick ever used his phone as much as everyone else did.
“I understand,” Alexander said. “We’ll wait for the respectable Mr. Crockett. Where should we sit?”
Ma glared at him and pointed to the table closest to the kitchen. “There. I’ll feed you lunch while Mr. Crockett finds his way to the church.”
Willard lit up at that.
“No, thank you, ma’am,” Alexander said, patting his stomach. “Already ate.”
Willard’s face fell.
“That’s all fine and dandy,” Ma said, “but you’re still coming over there.” Where she could keep an eye on them.
Alexander followed Ma and her stiff shoulders across the room, and I stifled a laugh. “You can still eat, Willard. Even if Mr. Something-Up-His-Ass doesn’t want to.”
Willard allowed a small grin. “Well, gee, thanks. I think I will.”
As he stepped away, I said, “So what does he want this time?”
Willard glanced toward Alexander, his face stony. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“You do realize Alexander’s on a witch hunt?”
“Of course.” His expression was impossible to read. He shifted on his feet, ready to go grab some lunch. “You’re keeping an eye on him, aren’t you?”
“Jordan? Well, yeah.”
“Making sure he’s getting through this okay, and everything? Talking things out with him?”
I squinted up at him. He was sending some kind of signal, but I sure wasn’t receiving it.
“You might want to ask him,” Willard said, “why he was spending so much of his time in Robert Baronne’s office last week. And the week before.”
I stared at him. “Like I said earlier, he was getting ready for a concert. At Baronne’s club.”
“Would that include lunch with him? Multiple times? And at least fifteen phone calls?”
I didn’t know. Would it?
He glanced at Nick. “We also got photos from Nick’s phone, taken the night of the concert.” He hesitated.
“And?”
“And there’s a nice clear one of Jordan and Baronne.”
“Let me guess. That argument you told me about.”
“Actually, no. They look quite friendly.”
Which would back up Jordan’s claim that they had definitely
not
been fighting.
Willard’s face turned thoughtful as he watched me take in the information, and I looked away. “Didn’t you say you were starving?” I asked.
He left.
Why
was
Jordan spending so much time with Baronne? I couldn’t imagine it really would be necessary, just to set up the concert. Especially since Club Independence had been on the band’s schedule for years. It wasn’t like it was a new venue. And Jordan hadn’t said anything about becoming
friends
with Baronne.
I looked around for Jordan, but didn’t see him anywhere.
“He’s outside.”
Nick had placed himself at my elbow, and I glanced at him briefly. “Thanks.”
“Stella—”
“Later, Nick, okay? Please?”
He searched my face, then turned and walked back to his seat at the table.
I felt like a jerk, but I needed to talk to Jordan before the cops did. I found him sitting on the front steps, his elbows on his knees.
I sat beside him. “You okay?”
“Sure. I’m just great.”
“Sorry. Stupid question.”
He waved at me, like he was trying to shoo a fly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just…” He took in a big breath, and let it out slowly.
“I know.” We sat for a few moments. “They want to ask you about Bobby Baronne.”
He sat up. “Again?”
“They seem to think you were spending a lot of time with him the last two weeks. More than you would’ve needed to.”
His face tensed. “Now I have to explain my friends to them?”
“You do when that friend is suspected of running off with the money. Planting a bomb. Maybe killing Genna.”
His head snapped toward me
. “What
?”
“What was going on, Jordan? It doesn’t sound to me like he was your kind of guy.”
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing. It just seems…out of character for you.”
He glared at me and stood up. “Well, we sure wouldn’t want that. Lord knows
you
never act out of character. Being Miss Loyalty and all. But, oops, you think I had something to do with it all. And, oops again, isn’t that your boyfriend in there, who you refuse to speak to?”
“Jordan—”
“Forget it. And forget this whole sister act. I don’t need you nosing around, making me hate myself more than I already do. So just…leave me alone.” He stomped up the stairs, and back into the church.
Great.
The door opened again, and Ma came out and stood behind me.
“Well,” she said, “I guess he gave you the boot. At least it took him almost a week to call you off. He rejected us immediately.”
“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”
She snorted. “And in case you’ve been wondering, I did manage to whip something together for you to wear tomorrow.”
I blinked. “I guess I hadn’t been wondering too much. I just assumed you’d do it.”
She smiled gently. “I suppose that’s good.”
“So where is it?”
She tilted her head toward the side of the church. “In my car. In the garment bag on the back seat. With a box of shoes.”
I took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And no complaining. I didn’t have much time to work with.”
“I won’t complain.”
“You’d better not. And you’d better be wearing it tomorrow. No matter what you think.”
I took a deep breath and held it. Then let it out. “It’s not like I have anything
else
to wear.”
She laughed, a sound not common during the past week. “Then I guess you’ll have to put it on. You don’t really have a choice.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. Now, can you tell me what to do with the rest of my life?”
She laid her hand on my shoulder. “You say that, but you know you don’t really mean it.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.
“Can we talk now?” Nick said.
We’d left the church in the middle of tying those damn bows in order to be back for milking. At least, it was a good excuse.
I reached a hand down to scratch Queenie, who’d greeted Nick with far more excitement than I had. “Gotta get started with the herd,” I said. “You helping?”
He looked down at the gravel, hands on his hips. “All right.”
“I need to change clothes.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”
Five minutes later we stood in the parlor, me pushing the feed bin toward him. He’d helped before. He knew what to do.
I turned on the Temple radio station, but instead of soothing classical music, they were playing some opera with big, wobbling voices. In Italian. Dairy farmers usually don’t speak Italian. But even with my high school education I could tell what the lady and the dude were singing about, and it wasn’t tiptoeing through the tulips. Just what Nick and I needed—passionate, star-crossed lovers who were probably about to keel over from a broken heart. Singing all the while.
I changed the radio to Philly’s lite rock station. The songs might be about love, but at least they’re quieter.
Two and a half hours later we left the barn.
“Now?” Nick said.
I sighed. I was tempted to put it off until after we ate, but realized he was reaching his breaking point. “Okay, Nick. Now.”
We walked out into the corn field, Queenie trotting along happily beside us, oblivious to the tension. The stalks were a little taller than when we’d come out on Monday, but didn’t have nearly as much growth as if there’d been some rain.
“You’re avoiding me, obviously,” Nick said when we’d reached the center point. “You about fainted when I showed up at the church today. You didn’t return any of my calls all week. You even went so far as to have Lucy lie to keep you off the line.”
I looked up at the darkening sky. What did that old sailor’s tale say about colors around the moon? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say.”
“I guess not. But I thought you’d at least want to find out some about…the disease.”
I choked out a laugh. “I know plenty. Not only did I do my own research, but Lucy and Lenny sicced a couple of folks on me who had their own testimonials. Remember that couple from the concert? The guy in a wheelchair? Well, there’s not much I don’t know at this point.”
He was quiet for a long time. “So the reason you didn’t call was because you’re not sure if you can live with this. With me.”
I turned to him. “No. The reason I didn’t call is because
you
thought I couldn’t live with it.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand. “Let me finish. You gave me an out. Said something about understanding if I didn’t want to have to deal with it. Well, let me tell you. After all I’ve learned about the illness, I know for sure it would be hard. It’s something you—I—would have to deal with every day, whether or not you were in the middle of an episode.”
I heard my voice catch, and I turned away from him to look again at the sky. “After reading and hearing about the disease I’m pretty sure I could handle it. But you know what I’m not sure I
can
deal with? I’m not sure I can get over the fact that you thought this illness could make me stop loving you.”
I looked at him, his expression frozen in the waning light, and said, “Do you really think so little of me?”
This time it was my turn to walk away.
Halfway back to the house Queenie—who’d chosen coming with me over staying with Nick, proving
some
thing, though I wasn’t sure what—took off running toward the house, barking. I looked ahead and spotted Jordan’s white truck in the drive. Super. I was trapped between the two men in the world who thought I was unworthy of trust. Well, there could’ve been more. They were the two I knew about.
I kept walking until I reached the truck, and Jordan jumped up from where he sat on my side steps, petting a now quiet Queenie.
“What?” I said. “Come to chew me out some more?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry. I was…” He threw up his hands.
“Okay.” I took a fresh look at his face and was startled at the wild look in his eyes. “Something happened.”
He nodded tersely. “Donny called me. Ricky’s disappeared.”
“So? The band’s better off without him.” I stopped. “Except they’re supposed to play at the wedding tomorrow.”
“Who cares about the wedding?” Jordan said. “He’s running because he killed Genna.”
I looked at him. “You really think so, Jordan?
Really?”
His nostrils flared. “Yes.”
“I know we
want
it to be him—”
“It
is
him.”
“Fine. Why are you here? What am I supposed to do?”
“Come with me to find him.”
“Find him? What about the cops?”
“The cops aren’t going to look for him. They think I did it. The bomb, too.”
I sucked in a breath. “They said that? Today?”
“They didn’t have to. Why else would they be so worried about me spending a little time with Bobby?”
I pinched my lips together. He was right. “Where do you think he is?”
He shrugged. “That detective said he’s not at his place, or his folks. They live in State College, anyway. Not near here.”
“Have they checked Marley’s house?”
“Marley’s? Why would they check there?”
I shook my head. “Are you completely blind?”
“What?”
“Do you have her phone number?”
“I don’t know.”
“Check.”
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and started scrolling. “Here. I think this is it. I needed Annie one day and got Marley’s number to call her there.”
“So call and see if Ricky’s there.”
“She’s not going to answer if I call.”
That damn Caller ID again. “We’ll call from inside.”
Lucy was in the kitchen, her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She turned when we walked in, her eyes immediately flicking to Jordan, then back to me. “Where’s Nick?”
“In the field.”
Her eyes stayed locked on mine. “What’s wrong?”
I chose to interpret her question as if it were about Jordan’s presence. “Ricky’s missing,” I said. “Jordan wants to find him.”
She shifted her gaze to Jordan. “Missing how?”
I answered. “Donny called and said he was gone.”
I saw the information register, but she was smart enough to realize there was more at stake than her wedding reception.
“So what are you doing?”
I shrugged. “Trying to find him.” I plucked the phone off the wall. “Number,” I said to Jordan.
He read it off his phone and I punched it in. Marley answered with her usual tough-girl voice.
“Stella Crown,” I said. “I’m looking for Ricky.”
A pause. “So?”
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“You have any idea where he is?”
“Why would I?”
I gritted my teeth. “I thought you were friends.”
“Well, we are. But I have no idea where he is.”
Good friend. “All right. Thanks.” I hung up and turned to Jordan. “He’s at Marley’s.”
“She told you?”
“No. She said she doesn’t know where he is. She’s lying.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s not rocket science.”
He looked blank.
“It’s more like the sixth grade sex talk.”
“What?”
He was hopeless. “Never mind.”
I looked into Jordan’s still-wild eyes and considered the options: let Jordan go after Ricky by himself, pretty much guaranteeing a ride home in a cop car; or leave Nick to think I really had abandoned him.
Shit.
I looked at Lucy, who regarded me with resignation.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll tell Nick.”
I kneaded my temples with my fingers, wondering not for the first time how my life had gotten so complicated.
“You know where Marley lives?” I asked Jordan.
“Sure. I’ve picked Annie up there when she needed a ride.”
A look out the window showed that Nick still wasn’t back, or even in sight.
“Thanks, Lucy.”
She didn’t respond.
I felt like the biggest ass in the world.
Outside, I called Queenie to me.
“Good girl,” I said. “Take care of Nick while I’m gone.”
At the mention of Nick’s name, Queenie’s ears perked up.
“Go,” I said, shooing her.
I watched until she was out of sight, then held out my hand to Jordan. “Keys.”
He rounded the truck to the driver’s door. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Jordan. You haven’t been sleeping, or eating, probably, and you’re not—”
“I’m fine. Get in.”
He slammed the door and started the truck. I jumped in, figuring he’d leave me if I didn’t. At least if I was along I could help him watch traffic.
He did better than I expected, only hitting eighty on the Northeast Extension, until we got clogged up on the Schuylkill. Could’ve been worse. As it was, we had to slow to about thirty. Jordan was surprisingly calm for all the tailgating, and flipped his rearview mirror up to keep the headlights from blinding him.
Once we got to the city, Jordan navigated the streets with a comfort I’d never had there, especially in the dark, and we were soon parked in front of a fire hydrant on Bainbridge. Jordan was gone before I could point out the possibility of getting a ticket.
I jogged up the sidewalk after him, catching up as he pounded on the door of a run-down townhome a block or so down the street. A vision of the crowd at Ricky’s flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some version of Mustang Man who would emerge from the shadows.
The door flew open, and Jordan’s arm froze mid-swing. “Annie?”
The girl’s face was streaked with tears, her eyes pained above red cheeks.
Jordan stepped toward her. “What’s wrong? Annie?”
She jerked out of her stupor and crossed her arms over her chest. “They’re leaving. I told them they can’t just—”
“Who?”
“Marley and Ricky.”
I reached out to grab Jordan’s arm, but was too late to keep him from storming into the house. I followed.
“Ricky?” he yelled.
The front room was a disaster. Boxes, stacks of CDs and DVDs, clothes strewn over the furniture. If Marley was hoping to leave soon she had her work cut out for her.
She came into the room, her arms loaded with pillows and blankets, but stopped at the sight of us. “I told you Ricky isn’t here.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
But suddenly—surprise—Ricky’s voice came floating in from another room. “Who’s here?”
And then he was standing in the doorway. This time I was quick enough to get a hold of Jordan and keep him from pummeling Ricky. Or getting pummeled by him.
Ricky sneered at us.
“You?
What do
you
want?”
Faced with him, Jordan went silent, his body trembling under my clenched fingers.
“So,” I said. “Where are you folks headed?”
Ricky swiveled his eyes toward me, then jerked his head at Marley, who walked past him back into another part of the house. “Where we’ll be appreciated.”
I snorted. “And where would that be?”
Ricky raised his chin. “New York. We’re starting our own band.”
I held back a laugh. “You and Marley.”
“Yeah. So?”
So good luck with that.
“Any idea just how expensive it is in New York?” I asked. “And how many people there are trying to make it?”
“We’ll be fine.”
I looked at him. He really believed that. That they’d be fine.
I let my eyes go past his shoulder, the direction Marley had gone. “Come on, Jordan. Let’s leave these people to their packing.”
He yanked his arm from my grip.
“What?”
“Yeah,” Ricky said. “Get lost.”
Jordan lunged toward him, his hands going for Ricky’s throat. They slammed against the wall, sending a framed photograph of Ozzy Osbourne crashing to the floor.
Annie screamed.
Jordan got in a few punches before I was able to drag him off Ricky, whose fist slammed into Jordan’s nose, sending a spurt of blood across Jordan’s face and the drummer’s shirt.
Marley ran into the room, almost tripping over the three of us.
She
screamed.
“Jordan,” I said. “Get it together.”
He swung his foot and connected with Ricky’s stomach, sending Ricky retching against the wall.
“He killed Genna,” Jordan yelled.
I got my arms around Jordan’s shoulders and dragged him further away. “We don’t know that.”
Marley practically fell on top of Ricky, holding his head against her chest. “Ricky didn’t do anything,” she shrieked. “He didn’t kill anybody.”
Jordan went suddenly quiet, his shoulders relaxing in my grip. A tear made its way slowly down his cheek to his chin, where it mixed with the blood from his nose. “I loved her.”
I leaned my head against his, trying to send comfort through my encircling arms, rather than restraint. “I know, Jordan. I know.”
Annie watched the four of us with wide eyes, backing against the far wall, her arms still crossed on her chest, as if protecting herself from the craziness she’d just witnessed. Her head shook slowly back and forth, her mouth working as if there were things she wasn’t saying.
“Now, come on, Jordan,” I said. “There’s nothing for us here but more trouble.” I pulled gently on his shoulders, and he sagged against me. I led him toward the door.
I’d gotten the door open and we were halfway through it when Ricky called to us. I looked back at him, while Jordan had already set his sights on the street.
“I loved her, too,” Ricky said.
My eyes met his. And no matter how much I resisted the idea, I believed him.
At least, I believed he
thought
he loved her.
I pushed Jordan gently through the doorway and shut it behind us, leading him down the steps toward his truck.
When we were out of the townhome’s sightlines, I yanked Jordan’s elbow. “Come on.”
He blinked and held the front of his shirt against his face, trying to wipe blood from his nose and lips. “What?”
“I think I know why Ricky’s so sure they’ll make it in New York.”
He stared at me. “Huh?”
“Who do we know that just got away with tons of money? And has dreamt for years of having his own band again?”
A light began to shine in Jordan’s eyes. “Bobby Baronne.”
“Exactly. And I think I know where he’s been hiding.”