A Paw-sible Theory

“Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.”

––Unknown

CHAPTER NINE: A Mumbled Apology

The Westminster chime of the doorbell woke me up from a sound sleep. Ethan’s father, Bob, was standing there puffing on a cigarette. He rang the bell a second time and started to walk away, got as far as his car and turned back. He lit another cigarette with the one he’d finished and flicked the stub in the direction of the driveway, spotted the newspaper tossed in the yard that morning and sat down to read it. He scanned the front page, turned to the back page and a worried expression flitted across his face. He dialed a number on his cell phone.

“Helen, it’s me. I’m going to be home a little later than I thought. Ethan isn’t back and I’m going to wait for him.”

Of course, I didn’t hear what the other party said.

“Yes, honey, I know I said I would go with you, but this is more serious than his message said. We’ll do it another time, okay?”

Smoke billowed around his head. “Are you still planning on pot roast for dinner? Can we have cherry pie a la mode for dessert?” He took a long drag, filling his lungs and exhaled.

“Fine, don’t stress. I’ll stop at the grocery store for the pie.”

Bob had remarried shortly after he divorced Alyx, and with good reason Ethan didn’t like his new wife. He told his mother that she always complained to his father about the mess he made while visiting, and she did it in front of him, usually leading to an argument and Ethan going home early. Eventually, the father-son relationship turned into one of distant relatives; an occasional phone call, with dinner three or four times a year.

Bob stood and took a step forward when he saw his son turn into the driveway. Ethan looked straight ahead, oblivious to everything around him as he followed the brick walkway to the front door.

Ethan, tall and handsome, had the same deep blue eyes and black hair as his father; his father’s hair peppered with gray.

“Hi, Dad, what are you doing here?”

They shook hands, patting each other on the back in something resembling a hug.

“Looking for you, son. I stopped by your apartment and when I didn’t find you there, I thought I might find you here before I checked at the hospital.”

“Have you been waiting long?”

“Traffic is bad. I got here about fifteen minutes ago. The official Beachside Visitor Information website boasts that approximately four million visitors a year enjoy the beach and I think half of those four million visitors decided to visit this week.”

The city hosted several special events during the year that brought as many as three hundred thousand visitors, per event, to the area. Fueled by the local newspaper editorials and local radio station’s talk show hosts, these events were a source of on-going contention between the business community and the residents.

According to Alyx, the residents felt they were the losers in the struggle. The crowds attending the big name concerts on the beach made it almost impossible to get around town, diverting law enforcement from residential areas and often delaying emergency service. On top of that, the city levied higher taxes to cover the cost of the events while the local businesses, including those in surrounding cities and itinerant businesses, enjoyed the profits.

Spring Break was in full swing and the subject of daily articles in the newspaper concerning safety and the destruction of property wherever the college students stayed. Unfortunately, the safety issue came up more often than it should have––referring to several deaths that had occurred when drunken students tried to make their way from one balcony to another.

“Yeah, right? I was stuck in the traffic congestion the new bridge was supposed to eliminate and it took me more than thirty minutes to get across.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before Ethan picked up the conversation again.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while, Dad.”

“I’m sorry, but I lost you cell phone number when I changed phones.” The last part said with some embarrassment.

“Yeah, I see how that can happen, especially when you don’t call the number much.”

“You know how it is, son, time just seems to slip by.”

Ethan had every right to feel as he did, but confronting his father on an emotional level was not his style and I wasn’t surprised he dropped the subject.

“Yeah, Dad, I know how it is,” he said, looking off into the distance, his chin jutting out ever so slightly.

He unlocked the door and invited his father in.

To my knowledge, Bob had never been inside before and he looked around appreciatively.

“Very nice. Your mother always had a knack for decorating. I’m glad she’s finally doing what she apparently loves.”

They sat across from each other, Ethan in my favorite chair, while Bob chose the tan, camelback couch. I settled on the coffee table and Misty picked the floor.

“Son, I’m sorry about your mom. The article in the Beachside Record doesn’t say much more than what your message said.”

He turned to the back page and read the short article in The Police Scan column.

“Saturday. Early this morning, Citrus County Hospital admitted local merchant Alyx Hille, part owner of Antiques & Designs. Her son, Ethan Hille, and business partner, Maggie Brock, found her unconscious and bleeding from head trauma.

Beachside police are investigating the incident. At this time, the police have no suspect or a motive for the attack. If you have any information, please call Detective Smarts at the Beachside Police Department.”

“There’s really not much more to tell,” said Ethan, then filled him in on the few details not mentioned.

“Dad, I know you and Mom don’t talk much, if at all, but do you have any idea who’d want to hurt her?”

Bob started to say something then hesitated, shrugged his shoulders, and rubbed the palms of his hands on his knees. “Well, son, when you’re in business like your mom is, there’s always the chance that you’ve made some enemies somewhere along the line. Envy and greed are always a good motive for murder, and statistics show that it’s usually someone close to the victim who committed the crime.”

Ethan looked puzzled. “What do you mean, Dad? You’re not suggesting that I had anything to do with it, are you?”

“Of course I’m not suggesting you had anything to do with it. I’m merely answering your question.”

“You think Maggie did it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Silence followed.

“We haven’t talked in a while, son. How are things going with you?”

“How do you think they’re going? I’m worried about Mom.”

“I meant with you personally before this happened.”

“I guess, okay. Same as everyone else, not everything is perfect but I’m dealing with it.”

Silence.

I had to give Bob credit for effort in trying to act like a father, thinking how hard it must be for him, not having had much practice at it.

“I know you’re worried about your mother, and I know there’s no sense in telling you not to worry, so I won’t, but she’s in good hands and I believe she’ll wake up sooner than anyone expects.”

Ethan nodded without comment.

“Okay. I’d better get going. I was wondering if you want to have dinner with Helen and me. She’s making one of your favorites––pot roast, and cherry pie a la mode for dessert.”

“No, thanks for the offer, but I’ve already made plans with Maggie. As a matter of fact, she should be here any time.”

“All right, son. Call me if you need anything. I mean it.”

“Sure, Dad, thanks for coming.”

They shook hands at the door. Bob started to say something, and hesitated. I may have heard a note of regret in his mumbled, “I’m sorry about … about everything.”

When he left, Misty wanted to know why humans made their relationships so complicated. It was obvious they loved each other. Why couldn’t they be more like cats and just be upfront about how they felt?