The Weekend Visitor Page 20

  "Oh, that part is easy," Sonny answered. "All he would have to do is say he had some good nights at a casino in Europe. But I don't know why he 'needed' it, either. I do know Richard would have set him up with a cushy job in Boston. Pete is smart and hard working. He'd have made good, and in a few years the Jaguar could have been his, anyway. There's something we're not seeing here."

  "Where is he now?" I was having trouble keeping my thoughts straight.

  "In Boston. Cassie is flying Mitch and Hatcher over to pick him up in the morning."

  "Hatcher?"

  "One of the new patrolmen. Seems bright enough. Anyway, you don't look so bright. You get some rest and don't worry about Fargo. Victor is only holding him so he can keep him caged and pretty immobile ... probably the same reason they're holding you, come to think of it. I'll see you tomorrow." He paused. "Uh, you done good, Sis."

  He only called me "Sis" when he was emotional. I was touched.

  As my brother exited, my dinner entered.

  A cup of bouillon, four saltines, a watery poached egg on toast left from Tuesday, a little cup of vanilla ice cream. Well, saltines and ice cream weren't bad.

  I drifted off to sleep with dreams of pastrami on rye.

  My first visitor arrived early Friday morning, bearing the paper, a copy of P.D. James' The Murder Room and a container of real coffee.

  "I don't imagine you expected me to call." She sounded slightly unsure, not the usual tone for our Maureen.

  I waved the coffee. "I'm grateful that you did. Have a seat."

  "How are you? I feel awful about what happened. To you and to Mary's house."

  "I don't feel too bad, but I don't think you can say that for the house."

  "No. The bedrooms and bath are about all that's left. And the garage. Look, Alex." She shifted slightly in the chair. "I know you don't like me much, but I'm really not all that bad. And the good Lord knows I never meant any of this to happen."

  She was right. I didn't like her much. But actually, about the worst you could say was she was an opportunist. A beautiful young woman suddenly transplanted from a slow-moving Irish town to the good ol' fast track U.S. of A. Dating a handsome, rich young man. Who knows how anyone might have handled what looked like a real Hollywood script?

  "Don't look to me for absolution, Maureen. But if it makes you feel any better, I think a number of people contributed to this mess. You, for one, but Jack was certainly in it. And Mary added to it, and Grace herself was no angel. And then Pete Santos, for some unknown reason."

  "Oh," she said. "I think I know what Pete had in mind. He was going to be the hero."

  "The hero?" Speaking loudly still wasn't a good idea.

  "Yes. You see, he adored Jack. Jack could do no wrong. He was Pete's idol. Pete thought Jack was the smartest, coolest guy in the world. Popular with men and women alike, socially very smooth, intellectually bright. Jack graduated Harvard and was accepted at a fine law school, if Grace would just have paid the fees ... or be put out of the way so Richard could, without causing a ruckus. So . . . Pete killed Grace for Jack, though Jack would never have known it. It would have been enough that Pete knew. Every triumph of Jack's would have been a secret triumph for Pete. And if you had cooperated by dying, too, he'd have got clean away with it."

  I looked at her, first in disbelief, then with dawning understanding. It did make sense. I recalled how Pete had jumped me when I even hinted that Jack might have forced himself on Maureen. And how he carried the grudge long after I apologized.

  "I have to admit, Maureen, you are one smart woman." I sipped the cooling, but still delicious coffee. "Where are you staying, by the way?"

  She grimaced. "I'm spending a few days with my old roommates, in that closet. It won't be for long. I've asked for a transfer back to Boston and been assured it will go through. They're going to put me in a training program for a corporate job. Thank God, I'll not be climbing phone poles all my life! And sure, I'll be glad to be out of Provincetown." She flashed that smile that made my heart quiver. Or made something quiver. "And I'm thinking there's a few who'll be glad to see me go."

  I didn't try to answer that, and Maureen stood. She walked over to the bed and gave me one of those kisses. "We'll never know what we missed, luv." She reached the door and turned back. "May the wind be always at your back."

  She left, and I felt strange.

  Lainey picked that moment to come in and check my blood pressure and temperature. "Both slightly elevated," she announced wryly. "But doubtless they'll be back to normal before Cindy arrives, and you've plenty of time to get that lipstick off your mouth."

  I grabbed a tissue and rubbed. "It was nothing, just a friendly farewell."

  "Sure."

  "Hey, you and Trish and Cindy are always taking shots at the girl. She's okay. / had no trouble handling her," I said, coolly tossing the tissue into the wastebasket.

  Lainey let out a guffaw that resounded down the hall. "You? Handle Maureen? Sweetie, she would have you for breakfast and spit out the seeds."

  I picked up another tissue.

  Chapter 30

  Friday morning went quickly. Shortly after Maureen left, Mom came by, bearing a little kit of what I needed, including fresh clothes for tomorrow's journey home. Aunt Mae stuck her head in to bring some beautiful fresh apricots. Cindy came in around noon, as I was having lunch. I was delighted to see her. After a favorable report on Fargo, we spoke of ordinary things: the need of a new shower curtain at the cottage, a TV biography of Fred Astaire that she'd enjoyed . . . comfortable things that reminded me I liked being with her. And she took my mind off what I was eating. I took a nap.

  Finally, midafternoon, Sonny arrived bearing a pastrami sandwich and fries and Diet Coke, and I loved him. "Close the door," I instructed sharply, as I graciously ripped the paper away and tore off a large bite of the sandwich. "They're liable t'take it 'way 'f they smell it," I muttered between chews. "You are a doll!" I shoved a fry in my mouth.

  "Jesus, Alex, slow down. I don't want to have to explain why you choked to death in a hospital room."

  "Okay, okay. I'm good. Did Pete get back? What did he have to say for himself?"

  "Yes. Quite a bit to say. Nothing especially sensible, but I guess it's true. None of this whole incident has made sense. Why start now?" He sat down and popped his own Coke. "I thought about beer, but I was afraid Lainey would kill us both if I brought that," he apologized.

  I felt suddenly wistful. "Probably. Anyway, about Pete . . ."

  "Yeah. Well, Pete said he originally had absolutely no reason even to think of killing Grace. He was actually quite fond of her. Then he read that stupid book of Maureen's . .. what was it?"

  "Death of a Peer" I filled in.

  "Yeah. I tried to read it myself. Maybe it's because it's so old, but I found it hard to follow. I did get the gist of it, I think. Pete said it got him thinking how unfair Grace was to keep Jack on tenterhooks all the time about money, making him beg for every penny, just like the old lord in the book. So he went to talk to her."

  "Pete went to tell Grace she should pay Jack's tuition? Wow! Give him credit for being ballsy."

  "You better believe. However, it got him nowhere, as one would figure. I guess Grace thanked him for his interest, but told him she was quite capable of taking care of family matters without his assistance and just blew him off. He came away angry and hurt, he said, but not at all thinking of harming her."

  Sonny leaned over and hooked a couple of fries. I didn't have the nerve to move them out of his reach. "Anyway," he continued, "A few days later, Pete finished Death of a Peer and went to return it. Maureen wasn't there, but Mary was home, cleaning out some kitchen utensil drawers."

  "What else?" I mumbled, wondering when I had last done that. If ever.

  Sonny grinned and continued. "He and Mary chatted a minute and then she went out of the kitchen to put the book away. At that moment, Pete saw the meat thermometer lying on the counter, looking sort of like a skew
er, he said, and something 'just told him' he had to take it with him. Using his handkerchief, he picked it up and slipped it in his jacket pocket. He said he left shortly thereafter. With all the stuff out on the counter, Mary didn't notice the thermometer's absence."

  "When was this?" I took the last bite of the sandwich and wondered if I could convince him to bring me crab cakes for dinner.

  "Not sure. About three days before the murder. It's weird, Alex, he said it made him feel 'secure' to know the thermometer, or skewer, he called it, was always in his pocket. He carried it around with him. And he said he began to get the idea or feeling that it was up to him to see that Jack got to the law school he wanted to attend, and that he be able to specialize in whatever type of law he wanted. Pete said he began to think of Jack's predicament all the time."

  "He was obsessed," I suggested.

  "He was sure as hell something!" Sonny nodded. "On that Friday evening, he was at the hospital visiting Juvenal, who had that ankle surgery. On his way out, he spotted a linen cart in the corridor. He 'got a feeling' he was going to need it for something, although he didn't know what. No one was around, so he pushed it out the loading exit, put it in his pickup and tossed a tarp over it. He said the fact he was stealing never entered his mind. It was like it had been put there for him to find. Now he felt even more 'secure,' knowing it was at hand."

  "This is getting really strange." Nobly, I offered Sonny the last two fries. Nobly, he took only one.

  "Crazy is more like it. He decided to give Grace one more try, to talk her into coming up with the money. Leaving the hospital, he went up to her house. She was in the library eating from a tray, watching the news. Pete said she seemed very 'up,' almost giddy and girlish over something. He got the subject around to Jack and money somehow or other and she just kept smiling at him, telling him she had great plans for the future and didn't need his input.

  Finally she just laughed and told him to be a good boy and run along. I guess that was the last straw."

  I snagged the last fry and then stopped with it halfway to my mouth. "Oh, God, Sonny, if she had just told him about those great plans, she'd be alive today!" I paused. "Or maybe not." I told him of Maureen's theory that Pete wanted to be a "hero" to Jack.

  "And," I added, "Maureen knew nothing of the jewelry and cash. But if Pete got Grace out of the way for the future, and then came home from Europe with the money Jack needed right away... he'd have been a hero big time."

  "Ye-es," Sonny mused. "And Jack would have been indebted to him forever. Oh, Pete would have been repaid, by a trust fund, or Richard or whatever, but Jack would still always 'owe' him for the original gesture. I think Pete would have liked that. Pete used to talk sometimes about all the favors he owed Jack. For picking up a tab, or covering a motel bill if they had dates, stuff like that. Pete used to say that someday Jack would need him and he'd be there. I just thought he meant personally. You know, like he was 'there' for Grace's funeral. But obviously he meant more."

  Sonny drained his soda and tossed the can in the trash. "Oh, that reminds me. I guess after the funeral, the rector, or maybe the vicar, shook hands with Pete and told him how lucky Jack was to have a cousin like him to help him through these tough times. Pete said he then was sure he'd done the right thing if a priest said so. You know what I mean."

  "Pete sounds a little hung up on Jack. I wonder if he would ever have told Jack of the wonderful gift he had given him? You know, when they were both very old, or maybe sometime if they were drunk together?"

  Sonny bounced the front legs of his chair back onto the floor. "Wonderful gift? What the hell do you mean?"

  "A life. What greater gift can you give somebody than a life?" I asked. "It is immeasurable. In value, in money, in importance or love. A gift beyond anything else you can even dream of. And he gave it to Jack. Jack must have been worth a great deal to Pete."

  "Oh, yes. Jack was definitely his shining star. Sometimes I wondered if there might have been deeper feelings than just hero worship, but it really doesn't matter. Anyway, that Friday evening, Grace finished her dinner and announced she was going to go 'take a peek at the sky,' meaning she was going out to look through that big old telescope of hers. Pete walked her out to the bluff, said goodbye, kissed her and killed her." Sonny's voice was harsh, as if he were making sure it didn't quaver.

  "He kissed her? That's sick." I balled up the wreckage from my lunch and fired it into the nearby wastebasket.

  "It's certainly melodramatic. Almost as if he likes to tell you he did that. I mean, it really has no bearing on anything. It's just a little frill on the story. Whatever. He put her in the truck, in the cart. He went upstairs and took the jewelry and cash. You know, Alex, I should have known something was off when Lillian's jewelry wasn't touched."

  "Probably," I agreed. I got up and walked around a little. The tiles felt cool and refreshing on my bare feet. "Actually, Aunt Mae was the first to sniff in the right direction when she said the killer left Grace's wedding ring and locket behind because he felt they were sacrosanct to her. Remember?"

  "Yes. Now I do. Well, just to wrap it up, he parked the cart in your garage, as you well know. I asked him why. He said he knew you were away, and it was a good way to make sure the body wasn't found for a while . .. more time for trails to grow cold and confusing. That is probably true, but he was still miffed at you for being accusatory of Jack. He mentioned it several times to various people. I think that was part of it."

  "Hell, Sonny, I wasn't nasty to Jack. We got quite friendly. Surely Pete knows sometimes you have to ask unpleasant questions. Anyway, doesn't he give me credit for 'saving' Grace from Mary's little fit in front of the restaurant?" I sat back down on the side of my bed, slightly lightheaded but definitely on the mend.

  "On the contrary." Sonny shook his finger. "He was angry because you were there to do it. When I told him, he first got mad at me. Said if I hadn't had him out in the West End about a stolen bike, he might have been going to lunch himself and been in the area to break up the attack. Then he decided to be mad at you for 'show-boating.'"

  "He must have been pretty mad. Enough to want to kill me."

  Sonny gave an angry little laugh. "He referred to you and Fargo as collateral damage."

  "That son of a bitch."

  "He said he knew he had to find that book so he could make it disappear and he could deny it ever existed, so that certainly there would be no proof he ever saw or touched it. When Maureen left and you stayed in the house, he didn't have time to wait for you to leave and let him either find the book and take it or torch the house. He had a plane to catch, so unfortunately, you had to go with the house right then. Tough for Fargo and you, but necessary."

  "That little prick!" I felt a great desire to give Pete a good hard kick. But not in the head.

  "Get back into bed and stop yelling or you won't be going home tomorrow." Lainey's voice cut through my thoughts of what I'd like to do to Pete Santos. "Alex! Do I smell pastrami?"

  "Er, ah, Sonny had a sandwich for .. . for a late lunch," I stammered. "Didn't you?" I asked. "Sonny?"

  But Sonny was gone.

  Chapter 31

  Cindy picked me up early afternoon Saturday, and once home I settled happily into a chaise in the backyard. It was great to breathe unprocessed air. Fargo arrived with Sonny and Trish a short while later.

  Our reunion was fervid, with loud whimpers and growls by both parties. He showed me his paw, which I kissed and made well. I showed him my bruised head, which he whuffled around and gave a soft lick, while the other three humans looked on with parental indulgence. Fargo walked over to his water bowl with the slightest of limps and had a good, long slurp, returning to my side with a look that said nobody had better try to move him.

  Sonny had brought hamburgers and hotdogs and rolls and wandered off to start the grill. Fargo didn't even follow the trail of the meat.

  Trish had brought a salad. Mom and Aunt Mae arrived with a great platter of fried chicke
n and a bowl of potato salad. Trained investigator that I am, I was beginning to see a pattern here. We wouldn't have to shop or cook for a week.

  I thought of what I would be eating if I were still in the hospital. Then my thoughts jumped to what Mary was doubtless eating in jail.

  "Sonny," I called, "When is Mary going to be released? Maybe we could get some of this food down to her."

  "She's out," he replied. "As of this morning."

  "Oh, my God, where is she? That house is unlivable and will be for months. She can't afford a motel for all that time even if her insurance covers part of it. We have to find her."

  Mom placed a soothing hand on my shoulder. "Easy, darling, Mary is just fine. Her neighbor, Ann Cartwright, has an extra room and bath, and by now Mary is comfortably settled. Ann is a lovely woman. Mary will be well cared for."

  "Does she have a cat?" I asked.

  That got me a bunch of concerned looks. Fortunately the arrival of Lillian and Richard Sanhope spared me an explanation. They were bearing a case of chilled champagne and a dozen yellow roses, and were followed by Lainey and Cassie lugging about a dozen kinds of pickles and mustards and chips.

  Lainey looked around the rapidly filling yard and shook her head. Her last words to me at the hospital had been, "Now you and Cindy run along and have a very quiet weekend. Rest is the best medicine—the only medicine—for a concussion." I laughed, remembering, and she shook her finger at me across the yard, calling, "Watch the champagne, Alex."

  "I am watching it carefully," I agreed. "Isn't it beautiful?"

  Lillian stopped by my chair to let me sniff the roses before she followed Cindy inside to locate our largest vase. "How are things?" I asked conspiratorially.

  "St. Patrick's Day may have a whole new meaning." She grinned and gave me a thumbs up.

  Richard said something conventional and then scurried to Sonny's side. I don't know if he felt outnumbered by women in general or lesbians in particular. But he didn't look a great deal more at ease when Peter and the Wolf arrived with Dan and Vance, bearing desserts by the pound.