Goodnight, Irene

40

IDRESSED QUICKLY and headed out for Frank’s house. The phone call from Alberta Owens had delayed me a little, so I decided I’d put off my talk with Lydia. Maybe we could get together this evening. When I got to Frank’s house, there was already a car in the driveway-I recognized it as Pete’s. Since it was another sunny beach weekend day, I had to park four blocks away, which made me even later.

I knocked on the door and Frank opened it, seeming relieved to see me. “Just starting to get worried about you.”

“Well, I was running a little late anyway, but then I had to park in Timbuktu.”

“Sorry, Irene!” Pete called out from the living room.

As we walked down the hallway, Frank said, “I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t thinking. Pete’s been good enough to loan me his car while he’s in Phoenix. He’s flying down there tonight.”

“That’s okay, Frank, I needed the exercise. And I know about the trip to Phoenix.” I looked over at Pete, who sat on the couch with a suitbag next to him on the floor. “Hello, there, Pete. I talked to Rachel this morning. She told me you were going to be visiting there.”

“Oh, yeah? So how come you were talking to Rachel? You had to call her at home-it’s her day off.”

“Pete-let her at least have a minute to get settled,” Frank said. “Have a seat, Irene. You want something cold to drink?”

“Thanks-water would be great.”

He walked off to the kitchen. Once again his powers of recovery amazed me. He was moving around much more easily, his facial bruises were fading and the swelling from the broken nose was way down.

Pete tapped his fingers impatiently while Frank was away.

“Excited about your trip?”

“Hey-I thought we declared a truce about this subject.”

“My, aren’t we touchy? That wasn’t a question about Rachel.”

“The answer is yes, and the reason is obviously Rachel and you know it. So don’t try to weasel your way around me, lady. You broke the truce, so fair is fair-what’s up with you and Frank?”

Just then Frank came back into the room and handed me a glass of ice water.

I smiled. “Thanks, Frank. Now what was that you were asking?”

Pete colored. “I asked how come you were calling Rachel on a Sunday at home?”

“Oh, is that what you wanted to know?” I took the longest sip of water I could without drowning.

“Must have been thirsty,” Pete muttered.

“I was.”

Frank looked between us, suspecting something but not able to figure out what was going on.

“Anyway,” I continued, “I called Rachel to ask if she could convince Elaine Tannehill’s mother to get in touch with me.”

They both looked up with interest. Pete leaned forward. “And?”

“And she did.” I turned to Frank. “That’s partly why I was late.”

“Never mind that,” Pete said impatiently. “Why did you want to talk to her mother?”

“Because I had a little idea I wanted to follow up on. I wanted to know if she remembered any of the people who used to come to Elaine’s parties when Jennifer was around. As I talked to her, I also remembered that there wasn’t a phone out at Jennifer’s mom’s trailer. So I asked Alberta Owens-that’s Elaine’s mom-how the girls kept in touch. Turns out they were great letter writers.”

“Why didn’t I think of that!” Pete exclaimed. He looked over at Frank, who was grinning with satisfaction.

“What’d I tell you, Pete?”

“I never said she was dumb, Frank-just maybe too smart for her own good.”

“I understand English, so you don’t have to talk like I just left the room. Besides, it was a pretty useless idea, as it turns out. Alberta Owens said she doesn’t think Elaine kept any of the letters.”

Pete sat back. “I’m telling you, it’s going to be hell trying to figure out who’s behind this. I think we should stick with the more recent stuff. Someone is very good at tying up loose ends, and you can be damned sure they were just as neat and tidy thirty-five years ago.”

“You ever find anything out about the accident Emmet Woolsey’s wife was in? Who was the witness?”

Pete and Frank exchanged glances.

“What?” I asked.

“The file is missing,” Pete said.

It really wasn’t a surprise. As Pete said, the killer was good at cleaning up messes. How difficult would it be for someone on the DA’s staff to remove a case file?

“I wonder if your brother-in-law has remembered anything.”

“Ex-brother-in-law. You’d be surprised what he can forget,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Frank and Pete both looked at me in mild surprise.

“I think I’ll pay him a call when I get back from Phoenix,” Pete said. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s out of intensive care,” I said, managing this time to keep my tone more even.

“Hey, that’s great.” Pete said, grinning. “I’ll bet your sister’s happy.”

The doorbell rang, saving me from making a response. It was Pete’s taxi. He picked up his bag and said good-bye.

Frank and I walked back to the living room and sat next to one another on the couch.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“You’re a little touchy, it seems.”

If I hadn’t been noticing the same thing all day, I would have denied it. But it was true.

“I thought you needed to get out for a while,” I said.

“It can wait.”

“It’s been one of those days. I’ve only had about four hours of sleep. I woke up feeling sad about O’Connor, and all day I’ve either felt basically at peace with it or completely out of sorts. I keep thinking about standing there on O’Connor’s front lawn. Then Kenny and I had a really awful conversation at the hospital. He basically dumped on O’Connor and said he wasn’t sorry his father was dead. It was a bit much for me. I’m sorry, Frank. I’m just sort of frazzled right now.”

“That’s understandable. Do you need company, or would you rather get together some other time?”

I had mixed feelings. I wanted to spend time with him, but right at that moment I really wanted to be alone.

“You won’t feel insulted?”

“Not at all. And that answers the question. I’ll walk you back to your car.”

He put his arm around me as we walked.

“Irene, you won’t try to solve O’Connor’s murder on your own, will you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, regretting my testiness as soon as I had spoken. But he acted as if I had been as pleasant as a spring morning.

“It means,” he said, “that you’re still not safe. I probably don’t have to tell you that, but I just don’t want your desire to find out who killed him to lead to your getting hurt-or worse.”

“I can’t just roll over and play dead, either, Frank.”

“Well,” he said, a little exasperation edging into his voice. “I guess you’re going to do whatever you want to do anyway.”

“Right.”

He was quiet the rest of walk. I kept thinking of things to get a conversation going, but the problem was that I knew I was being difficult. And I didn’t like to admit it. But as we reached the car, I turned to him.

“Don’t pay attention to me today. In fact, if you could erase the last ten minutes from your memory tapes, I’d appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I drove back to Lydia’s. On the way, I remembered another one of those sayings O’Connor was always pulling out of his hat. “It never does any good to tell another person ‘Don’t worry,’” he said.

He was right. Frank’s parting words aside, I was worried about the effect my emotional state might have on-on what? Hell, I didn’t even know what-our friendship? Our relationship?

My mood did not improve.