Dead Silver

21

We arrived back at Renee's around eight o'clock, although it felt later. She invited everybody in for a thrown-together dinner, but Madbird and Hannah wanted to get on home and I figured I should do the same. They took off, leaving Renee and me standing in front of her house. I reminded her that she should check into a motel, and offered to help her find a room and escort her there.

"I've been thinking about that," she said. "Why don't you just stay here?"

There wasn't any pressing need for me to get back to my place. The tomcat was fine on his own; he foraged for himself, and I always left an open sack of dry food where he could get at it. I'd be spared the long drive there and back to town next morning.

"Well, if you're sure," I said.

"I'm glad for the company."

I was, too. Especially after seeing Astrid's cabin, the thought of a solitary night in my own was not appealing.

"Hang on a second," I said. I went to my truck, got my.45, and slipped it into my coat pocket. I'd intended to go inside with Renee anyway and look around to make sure nothing was amiss, and I figured I might as well have the pistol with me. Like with the bobcat, I felt slightly melodramatic. But between the Ackermans and the rifleman up in Phosphor, I was well reminded that criminals and sociopaths weren't all that hard to find.

When we walked through the house, she didn't notice anything out of place and the rooms and closets all seemed clear. But the signs of Ward's tenancy were painful to see-cracked plaster from objects being swung or thrown, scars on the floors, bathroom linoleum buckling from a sink that must have leaked for years. All the bedding and upholstered furniture was ruined; she'd had to buy a new mattress for her stay here, and had found a used Hide-A-Bed couch and armchair just so the living room wouldn't be too bleak.

We finished our tour and ended up back in the kitchen. "I'm starving, and you must be, too," she said. "I'll see what I can rustle up. Let me just see who called."

I poured us drinks while she checked the anwering machine-which she'd also had to replace, along with the phones, since Ward and his buddies had ripped off or destroyed the originals.

"Hi, Renee, it's Travis Paulson," a man's voice said briskly. "You know, we really didn't get to talk much, and I feel like we've got a lot of catching up to do. I'd love to take you to dinner." He left three phone numbers, starting with his cell.

Her face showed her distaste. "He must be kidding," she murmured.

The machine's beep signaled a second message.

"Hi, sweetie. Are you there?" a different man said. He paused, as if expecting her to pick up. "Okay-it's six-fifteen here. Give me a call." This voice wasn't pushy, but it carried a quiet authority. I didn't have to wonder who it was.

"I'd better return that one," Renee said apologetically. "It might take a few minutes."

"Actually, I'd appreciate a shower." It wasn't that I'd gotten dirty working today, but freshening up sounded good, and it would get me out of the way while she talked to her fiance.

"Of course," she said. "Use the upstairs bathroom, it's decent. There are towels in the cupboard."

I'd only glanced into the bathroom on our walk-through, just the same quick once-over I'd given the rest of the place. But when I stepped in this time I was hit on all sides by feminine presence, charming and intimate-the fragrance of soap and perfume, a melange of cosmetics and lotions, an aqua-colored razor on the bathtub's rim.

I hadn't lived with a woman since my divorce, just about ten years ago.

The hot water felt wonderful, reaching deep into my flesh to ease the chill that lingered in this kind of weather. I gave it plenty of time.

Walking back downstairs, I inhaled the aroma of frying beef and onions. Renee must have started cooking while she was on the phone, but she was done with the call, just adding a jar of store-bought spaghetti sauce to the ground beef. A pot of pasta was boiling beside it and rolls were warming in a toaster oven.

"It's nothing much, I'm afraid," she said.

"It's a feast. And you're right, I'm starving."

I'd noticed a small stash of firewood out back that the human rodents apparently had been too lazy to burn. I brought in an armload and got a blaze going in the living room fireplace. Then we dished up; Renee sat cross-legged in the living room armchair with her plate in her lap and I settled on the couch. It was so homey I was slightly embarrassed.

Except for the proverbial elephant that took up most of the room-Astrid's murder and the specters that had raised. Coming up with light conversation was tough.

But Renee gave it a brave try. "Are you glad you came back here, after California?"

I didn't even have to think about it. "This is where I belong."

"The reason I'm asking is, it's been on my mind. Moving back into this place instead of selling."

That stopped me with a bite poised on my fork. "The hell. I thought you were-you know, had things pretty well planned out."

"Yes and no. Ian-my fiance-and I do fine together. He's an internist, I've got a great job, it's a life most people would kill for. But-I know this sounds crazy, but it almost seems too sensible."

"There's a lot to be said for a sensible life," I said, although my own efforts at it had failed roundly. "I suppose, uh, Ian, could find work here without any trouble."

She lowered her gaze. "If that was what we decided." The words hung there for a few heartbeats before she sighed in exasperation. "Dammit, I feel like I haven't talked about anything but my own problems."

I finally got a notion of something to say that might be helpful.

"You don't need to entertain me, Renee. Go off by yourself whenever you're ready."

She set her plate aside, and I saw that her eyes were damp. So much for helpful.

"Christ, I'm sorry," I said.

"It's not you, it's the situation," she said, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. "All those years, I kept it at a distance, and now I can't let it go. Or it won't let me go."

"I'm glad to talk about it if you want. Believe me, I'm plenty interested."

"Are you sure? I could use a reality check."

"I'm sure."

She finished off her wine and stood. "I could use another glass of this, too."

I took my own plate to the kitchen and poured myself a little more whiskey.

"Here's how wacko I'm getting," she said when we were settled again. "I keep thinking of more people who could have done it. Like that guy at Astrid's cabin. Remember what he yelled about 'nothing to be proud of'? Whoever he is, he didn't like her."

"I already decided we should tell Gary about it, and give him that license number."

"Then that got me going about Ward and his father," she said. "Boone's the same kind of nasty redneck-he just tries to hide it."

"I'm with you there. Anything more specific?"

"When I came home this afternoon, the two of them were over at the carriage house looking in the windows. If Boone was the one who put the photos in there, he'd be worried about the work going on, right?"

"So then you showed up, wearing the earring. Any reaction from him?"

"He gave it a hard look, that's all. But he'd seen where you tore up the floor, so he'd be prepared, and he's very cool anyway."

"All right, let me try a reality check," I said. "Suppose they looked in the carriage house because they were using the work to prop up their bullshit claim. And Boone was beyond cool and prepared-he was completely wrapped up in the song and dance he gave us. If the earring had meant something to him, he'd have shown it somehow."

"I guess," she said, slightly crestfallen. "I thought about a motive, too, but it's a stretch. Say he'd had his eye on this place for years, hoping he could scheme his way in when my parents got older. Then Daddy married a woman in her twenties and Boone was furious."

"It's an interesting stretch," I said, remembering my earlier thoughts about secret antagonisms among people who'd known each other a long time. Renee's guess might be off the mark specifically, but point at something closer. "I'm not saying I'm right about those other things, either. I think Boone definitely belongs on the suspect list. Who's next?"

"Travis Paulson. He couldn't take his eyes off the earring and all of a sudden he's my long-lost best friend. I'll bet you anything he wants to take me out so he can try to pick my brain."

"He might have another agenda in mind," I said.

"I'm sure not going to find out. As it was, he asked me where I was staying, if anyone was with me, how long I'd be here. I didn't think anything of it at the time, I was too distracted. But now it seems creepy."

"People try to be sympathetic and those are just the kinds of things they ask," I said, although I had to agree that I didn't like the sound of it. And Paulson, like Boone, had pointedly noticed the carriage house work. "So what about his motive?"

She shook her head. "Like I said, I barely remember him-just that he'd stop by once in a while, and I had the feeling my father wasn't all that happy to see him. It was like Travis was glomming on, maybe because Daddy was famous."

Then she raised her hands palms up in a wry, helpless gesture.

"But I'm just babbling about all this," she said. "I don't know who the police suspected-I'm realizing I hardly know anything. I was living in Seattle when it happened, and my mother kept me insulated. I never talked about it with my father-I only saw him twice more before he had his strokes."

That brought sadness back to her face.

"Time for you to crash," I said. "You must be wiped out."

"I am," she admitted.

"Go ahead. I'll take care of the dishes."

"You really don't mind?"

"I really don't." I was compulsive by nature, driven to impose order on chaos, but my scope was limited. Cleaning up a kitchen was just right.

"I'll make up the couch bed," she said, rising from her chair.

"It's fine like it is."

"Oh, come on. You'd be a lot more comfortable."

"I don't want to be too comfortable. I'm on guard duty, remember?"

"All right, macho man. Can I at least get you a pillow and blankets?"

"Sure. I don't want to be too uncomfortable, either."

She got the bedding from a closet, then started upstairs to her own room. On the way, she paused to give me a glance.

"I used to have a terrific crush on you, back when," she said.

I stared after her as she climbed on out of sight.