Thin Ice (18 page)

Probably everything.

*

“Thanks for coming over, John.” He didn’t look at all happy; I suppose I’d interrupted another basketball game. But the guy was my lawyer, hired help, and paid to jump when the client called. “Just toss your coat in the closet and sit down. I’ve got cocoa. Want some?”

He nodded sullenly while he leaned over to pull off his boots. “What’s this message you want me to hear?”

“On the machine. Go ahead and play it while I’m in the kitchen.” I heard the tape run through twice while I was filling the mugs. I spilled plenty as I hurried to get back and see his reaction to the message. I handed him a mug. “Will you admit I was right? Do you think I can get some help now?”

He didn’t look elated, didn’t look puzzled. Chewed on his lower lip while he stared at the machine. Sipped his cocoa, set down the mug. “Did you hear it all? They saw a guy. They saw Scott.”

“They saw someone.”

“Don’t be a blockhead about this, John. It was the right day, the right place, they thought the description fit, the guy had a red jacket.”

John rose and walked down the hall to Scott’s room. After a moment I heard him come back out and close the door. “Like this one?” he said. Scott’s favorite jacket hung on a hanger that swung from John’s hand. Red and limp, like a punctured balloon. “It was in his closet. I remembered seeing it when I searched for his checkbook.”

“I didn’t notice it was there,” I whispered.

He laid the jacket across a chair, and the hanger slipped out and fell to the floor. “Do you want some help clearing out his things, Arden? Dead or alive, he obviously doesn’t want or need them.”

“He was the one getting into that car. I know it.”

John groaned and dropped into a chair.

“Of course his coat is still here because he didn’t dare pack anything; we would have noticed. But he would need some getaway clothes; he couldn’t just hit the road in a leather snowmobile suit. He probably bought another jacket and had it stashed in the car. Makes sense he’d get one just like his old favorite.”

Another groan.

“Can’t you help me?”

There must have been an especially plaintive tone to my wail; my lawyer sat up straight and crossed his arms. “I’ll help by making you face the truth, Arden. Ask yourself some questions. First, where did he get the car?”

“He was in the business, he knew places, it wouldn’t have been hard.”

“How did he pay for it? There’s no record of a purchase and no sign he dipped into his personal accounts for any sizable amount other than for the snowmobile. I’ve been through everything.”

“The guy said it was a beater. Couldn’t have cost much. Or maybe…maybe he took one off the lot.”

“Stole from Lorenzo?” John tapped his fingers and closed his eyes. “Arden,” he whispered, “you’re not connecting with reality.”

“Go home, then. I’m sorry I made you come over.”

“I’ll do this for you. Give me the number of the guy who left the message and I’ll call and try to get a better description. And I’ll twist Al’s arm to get him to ask around. See if other people at Winker’s that day noticed the same car. Maybe they know who it belongs to.”

“Belongs to my brother.”

He was beyond listening. “Meanwhile, you can do this: Figure out how he paid for this adventure you believe my dead friend is enjoying. It always comes back to money, Arden. How did he finance the great escape and what’s he living on now?”

CHAPTER 13

After he left, I sat in Scott’s favorite chair and listened to Scott’s favorite music and tried to think like Scott. For days after the first accident he’d sat in the living room and plotted. Thinking it through, making up his mind, probably rerunning mental tapes of his life.

His life. When had he started to hate it so much? Had he started to hate me?

John was right about the money. Where had it come from? My brother had figured it out while sitting there. I could too.

From the chair I could see the speakers and CD player, the bookshelves, the framed museum poster, the futon and coffee table. Several weeks of his magazines and junk mail had piled up on the table, where I dropped them each day.
Cars and Parts, Engine Update, The New Yorker, Sports Illustrated
. An SI had slid off the pile. On its cover, bold black letters proclaimed
spring training preview.
The picture showed Frank Thomas slugging one into outer space. Hannah would love the photo, it was just like the…

Baseball card.

*

A City of Duluth snowplow was carving out a parking spot on Superior Street. I challenged all the cops in the area and made a U-turn. Just as the plow’s driver lifted his blade and moved on, I skidded across fresh-packed snow right into the curb. Cars honked and at least one driver waved hello with a single finger.

“What luck,” I said. “There’s time left on the meter.”

From the outside, Mel’s Cards and Comics didn’t look like a child-friendly establishment, possibly because of the greasy windows and the location right next to an adult bookstore. Still, there were four kids inside when I entered. Ten
AM
on a Friday morning, why weren’t they in school? For that matter, why wasn’t I?

I dropped my keys on the glass-topped counter, and a woman behind the register smiled and held up a hand to silence me, then kept on counting bills and change. Finally, she closed the register drawer with a slam and smiled broadly. “Help you?”

I nodded and placed a flyer on the counter. “I’m wondering if this guy ever came in and sold some baseball cards, maybe about a month ago.”

She held it in both hands and leaned on her elbows. Made soft clucking noises as she studied it.

You don’t have to memorize it, I thought. “Well?” I said.

“Not a real good picture of Scotty, is it? Oh, I was so sorry to hear about him dying.”

“You know him?”

“Knew him, yeah. Regular. He was in three, four times a month to pick up the comics I’d hold for him. Maybe he’d buy or trade a couple of cards. Shoot the breeze about things. Sweet guy; changed my wiper blades for me once.” She absently fingered the tiny gold cross hanging on a chain on her neck. “Who are you?”

“His sister.”

Her jaw dropped and stayed in place until a little bead of saliva formed at the corner. “I never knew he had one.”

“When did he last sell some cards to you?”

“Late December, maybe. He came in around then and had me look over his whole collection. Said he was thinking about giving them to a little girl he knew.”

Hannah. “December, you sure?” Before the crash.

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you buy any from him?”

“One. Made an offer on a few others, but he wasn’t interested.” A little boy pushed me aside and dropped a pile of change on the counter as he showed the woman the comic he was buying. She rang the sale and gave him a nickel change. “There weren’t many high-end cards in his collection, one or two worth maybe seventy, eighty dollars. The others were nickel-and-dime stuff. Nothing to retire on, I told him, may as well give it to the little girl.” She looked again at the flyer. “Missing, you say? Not dead?”

“Yes. Just missing.”

I hadn’t even pulled into the driveway before Kady was hustling across the street after me. Early afternoon, she should have been in school. I could see her mother standing in the picture window, but it was impossible to see her expression at that distance. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to. No doubt it would be murderously angry.

“Why aren’t you in school?” I said. “Why isn’t your mother at work?”

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“Did your mother get you out to look for me?”

“Arden, the world does not revolve around you. Has it ever occurred to you that other people have problems?”

“Gosh, no. Thought I was the only one.”

“My grandmother died this morning. Her heart failed. We’re going back to Green Bay. We were just waiting for you to show up. The school said you called in sick. No one had any idea where you were.” She was at that pinpoint place between rage and grief; I’d been there myself. Rage won and she reached out and banged her fist on my shoulder. “I don’t care anymore if you mess up your own life. I don’t care if you flunk out of school and destroy your business and alienate your friends, but don’t you dare screw around with my mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it”

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

Mrs. Drummond looked like an older version of Kady, bearing the same combination of grief and rage. “I’m sorry about your mom,” I said immediately. “And I’m sorry about skipping school this morning. Please…
”
I gave up. She wasn’t really listening, and explaining wouldn’t help.

Jean and her father left to load suitcases. “How soon can you be packed?” Mrs. Drummond said.

“Packed?”

“You’re coming with us. Your winter break is next week and I don’t feel right about leaving you alone for all that time.”

“I have plenty to do. If I stay, I’ll catch up on schoolwork, and maybe even get back to business. I have tons of frame orders. Oh, Mrs. Drummond, I am so sorry about your mother and sorry you have to worry about me, but I don’t want to go.”

Kady left us alone, exiting the room with a quick, angry step. “Please,” I said.

Mrs. D. looked out the window, toward my house. “My mother was eighty-two. How old was your mother when she died?”

“Forty-three.”

“So young. You hadn’t lived here that long and I’d hardly gotten to know them. I remember seeing Elizabeth planting tulip bulbs by flashlight the night before they left that last time. It was October, wasn’t it? Yes, must have been. I guess she was afraid it would be too late when she returned from Honduras.”

Never had returned, of course. “What a funny image,” I said softly. “I’m glad you told me. I don’t remember much.”

“So young,” she said again. She turned and hugged me. “No boys in the house. No parties. Get your work done. I want you to call me every night, no exception. And should Cody Rock or anyone try to get in, you call Al immediately. People want to help you; let them; it’s a sign of good judgment.”

“I’m sure it is. I promise to do everything right.”

“One infraction and it’s all over, and you come to live with us.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be good, really really good. Thank you. I haven’t said it before, but thank you for everything, Mrs. D.”

She sort of melted then, and the tears slid out. Kady materialized and hugged her.

I turned around and faced the window and my empty house. A horrible thought crashed through: Would it have been so easy for Scott to leave if I’d ever said that to him? Just once, couldn’t I have done it even one time? Looked him straight in the eye and said, Thank you.”

CHAPTER 14

“This is for me?” No doubt about it, Hannah was an all-round gorgeous child, but it was her eyes that would be heartbreakers. They were wide and bright as she leafed through the card album.

“You and the baby.” Yeeps, what if she didn’t know? I sneaked a peak at Claire, who didn’t look especially perturbed.

Hannah carefully closed the album. “What if the baby doesn’t like sports cards? Can I have them all?”

“Sure.”

“But then you’ll have to give the baby something to make it fair. Something that belonged to Scott, like the cards.”

“You’re right.”

“Something that was special to him like these,” Hannah said firmly. “Scott’s the dad, you know.”

Now I could see that Claire was upset, twisting in discomfort as her flesh and blood negotiated on behalf of the unborn sibling.

“When she turns sixteen she can have his car,” I said.

Hannah’s jaw dropped.

“It’s a Plymouth Barracuda, kind of old, but in perfect shape. Best of all, it’s a convertible. You and I will have to take care of it, though, so it still works when she’s old enough to drive.”

“I will,” she said solemnly. She mumbled something about going to bed early, then picked up the album and went to her room.

“She’ll be up all night memorizing every card and checking its value in one of her collectors’ magazines,” Claire said.

“They’re never worth as much as you might hope,” I said, thinking back to my trip to Mel’s.

“It’s still a sweet gift. No way, though, are you unloading that grotesque car on my children. I certainly won’t thank you for that offer, but I will thank you for the pizza and the salad and the beautiful frame.”

“Thank you for letting me invite myself over.”

“We’re being very polite, aren’t we?”

“Very civil. It occurred to me that I owed you a huge apology, and it also occurred to me that I’d like to know this baby you’re having. My niece or nephew. Hannah seems sure it’s a girl. Do you know?” Claire shook her head and turned to the sink to squeeze out a washcloth. She wiped down the counter without speaking, making long, wide strokes across the worn Formica.

It was a small kitchen, bright and warm but crowded with the appliances, chairs, and table. Staff housing for park employees wasn’t spacious or luxurious, only four furnished rooms on the second floor of a duplex, spitting distance behind the park lodge.