The Girl with the Cat Tattoo

Chapter 17

A limousine took them directly from the Ellen DeGeneres Show to LAX. The ride was silent, and Melody had no idea what Joe was thinking. If he was coming down from his high, he was probably thinking he’d dodged a bullet.

The flight back to the Twin Cities was uneventful, with all three of them dozing off and on. Joe kept shifting in his seat, wincing in pain, but he was unwilling to take anything. “We’ll be home soon,” he said.

We’ll be home soon.

But they wouldn’t be going to the same homes.

The descent into the Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport always seemed the longest part of the flight, especially at night. Melody leaned forward and watched for recognizable landmarks like Foshay Tower and the Metrodome, I-494 and the Mall of America. The plane circled and came in low over Saint Paul.

Joe leaned close to share the window. “We’re going right over Frogtown and Midway.”

“One of those lights could be my street, my house,” Melody said.

“Fair Grounds.” Joe pointed.

They’d talked about going to the state fair together in the fall, the Great Minnesota Get-Together. That wouldn’t be happening. In some ways, Melody wished she’d never found out about Joe. Wished she could go back in time to before she’d discovered his secret. Back when everything was wonderful between them.

Their plane landed, and pretty soon they made their way to the parking ramp where they piled into Joe’s car. Melody imagined crawling into bed with Max, maybe making a cup of hot chocolate, watching some television, trying to forget about the man in the seat beside her.

Fifteen minutes later, Joe pulled up in front of Melody’s house.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Joe said.

She looked at him. “That’s okay. Your leg hurts. Get home. Take some painkillers.”

He didn’t listen.

He carried her small case while she carried Max. The sidewalk ran next to the house, and they followed it around to the back door.

Which stood ajar.

Melody let out a gasp, and Joe stepped in front of her, pushing her behind him. His hand went inside his jacket; he cursed under his breath. No gun.

He squeezed her arm, silently transmitting his need for her to stay where she was. He entered the house, flipping on the overhead light.

In movies, they never turned on the lights. That’s what Melody was thinking.

Her heart slammed in her chest. What if someone was inside? What if that someone had a gun? Like that other time?

She dropped Max’s cat carrier-gently-and ran into the house, shouting Joe’s name.

Joe swung around and looked at her in dismay. “Melody.” It was a warning to stay back. “Go outside. Call 9-1-1. Wait for the police to come.”

Silly, she thought, because he was the police. But he wasn’t in uniform. He didn’t have a gun. He didn’t have backup. Just a girl and her cat.

“Go outside,” Joe repeated.

“Not without you.” And then she saw the mess. The kitchen had been ransacked; broken dishes and glass littered the floor. “Oh, my cat coffee mug,” she said sadly.

Joe grabbed a broom. At first Melody thought he was going to start cleaning up. How strange. Instead, he grasped the handle in both hands and held it like a bat, moving deeper into the house. Lamps were broken, couch cushions scattered.

On to the bedroom. More of the same.

Not just ransacked but destroyed. “Why would someone do this?” Melody said.

Joe shook his head while he scanned the room, checking under the bed and in the closet. “Most thieves do very little damage. This is something else. I don’t like it.”

He moved through the house, methodically checking every area where someone could hide. Melody pulled out her cell phone and called 9-1-1.

Within minutes, sirens were blaring and lights were flashing, bouncing off the walls of the living room. Questions were asked. “Anything missing?”

“I don’t know,” Melody said. “Everything is such a mess.”

Notes were taken. And that was it.

“Someone will be getting in touch with you,” an officer said. And then the sirens and the cops were gone.

“I don’t like this,” Joe said again.

“I don’t either.”

“No, I mean it’s not your typical burglary. My guess is that the perpetrator knows you, knew you were gone, and was looking for something.”

“The whole country knew I was in California.” Melody bent to pick up a cushion.

“Don’t touch anything,” Joe said. “Let’s secure the door and leave. I’ll come back in the morning with a fingerprint kit. See if I can get anything, but I doubt it. I think this was a professional job made to look like an unprofessional job.”

Melody found a hammer. While Joe nailed the broken door closed, she wandered through the house, careful not to touch anything.

She should have moved. After David was killed, she should have moved. The house was cursed. She wandered back into the kitchen where Joe was finishing up. “My laptop is gone,” she said in a monotone voice.

He straightened, hands at his waist.

“That’s a pretty typical theft, isn’t it?” she asked. “Just kids stealing a laptop.” The theory reassured her, and the crime dropped in her mental ranking.

But she didn’t like the look on Joe’s face. “What?” she said.

“Maybe the laptop is what they wanted.”

“It’s just a laptop.” With a lot of pictures of Max inside.

They exited through the front door, collected Max, and got back in Joe’s car. He swung the car around and started heading toward his house.

“Take me to Lola’s,” Melody said.

“You can come to my place.”

“I want to go to Lola’s.” She knew Lola was probably in bed, but she needed to see her sister. And she needed to get away from Joe. Far away from Joe.

He paused at a stop sign and turned to look at her. He understood. Completely. Understood that this was it for them. The last straw. Because she had the feeling that the break-in was more about Joe than it was about her. Somebody knew he’d stayed there. Somebody knew he was her boyfriend. Or had been her boyfriend.

Let him lift his fingerprints or whatever they called it. Let him check the database to see if there were any matches. But then he needed to go away and never come back.

He nodded, looked straight ahead, and stepped on the gas.

Lola answered the door in pajama bottoms and a Roxy Music T-shirt. It took her a few seconds to process the news, but then she was pulling Melody inside, pushing Joe outside, shutting and locking the door.

“God, Melody. Oh, my God. And by the way, I saw the Ellen DeGeneres Show.” She shook her head.

“Crazy, right?”

“Did you think about it? Marrying Joe?”

“Not for a second.” She didn’t add that later she wondered. Later she kind of wished she’d done it. But now. Thank God she hadn’t. “A cop. Look at the bullshit he’s brought into my life.”

“There must be some reason you’re attracted to cops,” Lola said fifteen minutes later when they’d gotten Max fed and both sisters were lying in Lola’s bed, eating ice cream. “Maybe you need to stop fighting it.”

“I’m not attracted to creepy cops. Not the cops who were picked on as kids and are now on power trips.”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Yes.”

“See, you’re defending him.”

“Some cops are sweet. Some cops care about people.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “It’s just a job. But anyway, I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

“Joe says they knew I was gone, so I don’t think I was ever in any danger.” She tried to sound convincing.

“Maybe you should move.”

She’d said it before. Lots of times. And now Melody was thinking the same thing. But she also had so many good memories in her house. And leaving… In a way, it would mean leaving David. Abandoning David. He was so much a part of the house. They’d worked on it together. They’d fallen more deeply in love there. And David had died there. That was the strange thing that Melody didn’t know how to explain. Even though his death had been violent, there was something spiritual about the house because David had drawn his last breath in the living room. David was the house. And until tonight, she’d actually felt comforted there, felt his presence lingering in the walls and in the sheets and in the curtains.

“This ice cream is really good,” she said, realizing she’d eaten most of hers without even tasting it. But now she became aware of the dark chocolate flavor on her tongue.

Max was lying between them on the floral quilt. “What was that thing Max did on television?” Lola asked.

“I don’t know. Wasn’t that weird? I’ve never seen him do that before.”

“It was kind of like the moon walk,” Lola said.

“I know!”

They both laughed.