A Catered Mother's Day (4 page)

Chapter 7

B
ernie started running again. After a couple of minutes though, she felt shooting pains going up the front of her calves and she remembered why she'd given it up. Shin splints. She kept on going anyway, brushing the ever-present low-hanging branches away from her face as she ran. She'd gone a couple of hundred feet when she stepped on something that stabbed her in her instep. She cursed and kept on going, but then she stumbled on a rock and twisted her ankle. This time she fell to the ground. She was just getting up when Libby bumped into her.

Libby screamed. They both went down.

“Sorry,” Libby said, hoisting herself up. She rubbed her side where Bernie's elbow had jammed into her.

“Jeez,” Bernie said after she'd gotten her wind back. “Watch where you're going, why don't you?”

“I didn't see you.”

“Obviously,” Bernie replied. She dusted herself off. Maybe if they hurried they could still beat Ellen back to the Subaru. But when Bernie tried to get up, a searing pain shot through her ankle. “I think I sprained something.”

“Fantastic.” Libby couldn't help herself. Her thoughts immediately went to all the work she was going to have to do by herself. She knew she should be more charitable. She was trying, but she wasn't succeeding.

Bernie used a rock outcropping next to her to pull herself up. She took a step and groaned. Her ankle was throbbing. “I think I'm going to need your help getting back.”

“What about Ellen?” Libby asked.

“I blew it,” Bernie admitted.

They both fell silent.

“I don't hear her. You think she stopped?” Libby asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe she made it to Danbury West.”

“Where?”

“That's the road that goes to Clearview Gardens. It circles back to the motel.”

“You think that's what she's going to do?” Libby asked.

“That's what I would do,” Bernie said. “I was hoping I could beat her back to the Subaru and get her car keys.”

“Not at the pace you're going now, you're not,” Libby observed.

“Maybe, but she's got longer to go and she's not exactly fleet of foot.”

“She's faster than you are at the moment,” Libby retorted.

Bernie didn't say anything because it was true. Instead, she reached up and repinned her hair.

“Plus,” Libby added, “she did climb out the window and you never thought she could do that.”

“True,” Bernie conceded. She thought about the route Ellen was going to have to take. “But if she cuts through the trees, she still has to walk over the field, and back up the road.”

“If she doesn't retrace her steps like we are.”

“She can't. We'd hear her if she did.”

“It doesn't matter. We still can't catch her, especially since you can't walk.”

“I can too,” Bernie protested.

“You can hobble.”

“Limp.”

“Same thing.”

“No it's not. Limping is faster.” Bernie took a step to prove her point. She groaned as the pain shot up her leg again. “This might be a little trickier than I thought,” she conceded, stopping and leaning against a tree for support.

“How bad is it?” Libby asked her sister. “Do you think you broke something?”

“No. I think I just need to ice it,” Bernie said. “I think it's a bad sprain.”

Libby took Bernie's arm and put it across her shoulder to help take some of the weight off her sister's foot. They'd walked a few more steps when Bernie held out her hand. “Wait. I have to stop again.” She felt around, found a rock, and leaned against it.

“Has it ever occurred to you that it's time to stop being so stubborn, call the police, and tell them what happened?” Libby asked her sister.

“Yeah, it's occurred to me,” Bernie said. “Maybe they're already there with Bruce.”

“If he called them,” Libby said.

“He'll call them,” Bernie prophesized.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he's that kind of guy.”

“And if the police aren't there?” Libby asked.

Bernie turned to face her sister. “Listen, I just want to hear her story first before we throw her to the lions. After all, Ellen came to us for help.”

“And then she ran away.”

“Because she was terrified.”

“Or because she killed the guy,” Libby said.

“I thought we agreed that she didn't,” Bernie replied.

“Maybe I'm changing my mind,” Libby said.

“She's my friend, Libby. I've known her for over twenty years.”

“And she's always been a pain in the ass.”

“This is true.”

“Sometimes there's such a thing as being too loyal.” Libby scratched her arm. It felt as if something had just bitten her. “She doesn't have to know it's us. We could always call the police from the pay phone on Oakwood Drive, the one near the strip mall that sells Maltese puppies, and tell them there's a dead body in the Riverview Motel. Then we'll get you home and ice that ankle.”

“As simple as that?” Bernie said.

“Yes. As simple as that,” Libby replied.

“But I'll know. Also there are probably video cameras at that strip mall and they'll see us making the call.”

Libby brushed a moth away from her face. “As long as we're on that subject, have you thought about what we're going to say to the cops about the body in the bed?”

“That we found it.”

“And then they'll say, ‘why didn't you call it in immediately ? ' and we'll say . . . ?”

“We'll explain,” Bernie said.

“Too bad the person who summoned us to the Riverview Motel won't be able to vouch for us.”

“She will,” Bernie replied.

“If we find her.”

“When we find her.” Bernie took a deep breath. “She needs us.”

“She certainly isn't acting that way,” Libby observed.

Bernie sighed and rubbed her ankle. The throbbing was getting worse. She could feel the pulsing in it. “On one hand, I'd like to wring her throat. On the other hand, I feel bad for her.”

“Bad? Are you nuts?” Libby squawked.

“No. I think that she must be terrified given the way she's acting.”

“So you've said.” Libby snorted. “I have to say, I think that's a charitable interpretation of her actions.”

Bernie crossed her arms over her chest. “I don't think she killed him and you don't think so either.”

“Then why is she lying, Bernie?” Libby demanded. “Why did she run away?”

“I told you. She panicked. Remember she was the one who called us here.”

“I'm not forgetting. I'm also not forgetting that she faked her own kidnapping,” Libby replied. “Talk about boneheaded moves. Maybe from a teenage girl, but from a mother of three boys? Seriously.”

“Stupid? Absolutely. Childish? Without a doubt,” Bernie replied. “But that doesn't make her a murderer.”

Libby scratched a bite on her calf. Mosquitoes loved her. “All I know is that if it weren't for Ellen all the macaroons would be packed up and we would be done.”

“I can't argue with that,” Bernie told her.

She slowly began putting weight on her ankle and winced as the pain shot up her leg again. God, what she wouldn't give to be home right now with a couple of packages of frozen peas on her ankle and a glass of Scotch in her hand.

She didn't say anything else for a minute, just sat there listening to the night sounds and letting the breeze wash over her. She thought she heard an owl in the distance, but she wasn't sure. Suddenly she was very tired. She knew she should get moving but she really didn't want to. Then she had an idea.

“Libby,” she began.

“No. Absolutely not,” said Libby, cutting her sister off. She was way ahead of her.

“You don't know what I'm about to say,” Bernie protested.

“I've got a pretty good idea. You want me to go after Ellen by myself and I'm not going to,” Libby told her.

“I'm not asking you to go after her, Libby,” Bernie said. “I'm just asking you to beat her back to her Subaru and get the key from under the fender.”

“And then what?”

“Wait for me.”

“What if she wants her key back?”

“Don't give it to her.”

“What if she attacks me?”

Bernie snorted. “Ellen? Don't be ridiculous. She's not going to attack you.”

“What if she does? After all, you didn't think she'd climb out the window either. Or what if she decides to run away?”

“Libby, please,” Bernie answered. “I would do this if I could, but I can't. I realize there's no good solution here, but finding Ellen and talking to her is the least bad one. All I'm asking is for you to stall her until I get there.”

“How are you going to get there? You can hardly walk.”

“I'll manage. I'll just rest a lot.” Bernie took Libby's hands in hers. “Please, I'm begging you.”

“I'm not sure that leaving you is such a good idea.”

“I'll be fine. I swear I will,” Bernie promised when Libby hesitated. “I'll call if I have a problem.”

“Promise?”

Bernie raised her right hand. “Sister swear.”

“You'd better.”

“I will.” Bernie gave Libby a gentle shove. “Now go.”

As Bernie watched her sister leave she thought about the disaster this evening had turned into and about how it was all her fault. She probably shouldn't have come—Libby was right about that—but how could she not have? And now she was stuck with a sore ankle and a bunch of unanswered questions—questions she couldn't let go of. Why had Ellen run? Who was the guy in the bed? What had happened to him? Bernie was still thinking about that as Libby trudged off to the Riverview Motel. Hopefully, she would arrive in time.

On the other hand, Libby wasn't thinking about how she'd keep Ellen from getting the key if she got there first, or about the body in the bed, or even about her sister hobbling alone in the dark. She was thinking about how relieved she was to be getting out of the woods. She didn't like places like this in the daytime, and in the nighttime she liked them even less. You couldn't see where you were going, things kept hitting you in the face, you could hear strange rustles and creaks, and even though Libby knew there were no bears or wolves in Westchester, she couldn't help thinking that there were.

And then there were the vampires—she could kill Bernie for bringing them up. She didn't even want to think about them, but once she'd summoned them up she couldn't get them out of her mind, which was why she picked up her pace as much as she could, not that that was saying a lot.

It had been a long day and she was exhausted. In addition, even though Libby's eyes had become accustomed to the dark, she still had to feel her way along as tree trunks and rocks jumped out at her and vines and twigs tried to ensnare her feet. She paused every tenth step or so to untangle one of her flip-flops from a small branch or low-lying bush or take out a small rock or pebble that had gotten lodged in there, because the last thing she needed was to get injured the way Bernie had.

Ten minutes later, even though it felt like at least an hour to Libby, she could see the outline of the motel haloed in the dim light of the streetlights through the trees. When she squinted, she could see that the Subaru was still sitting next to their van in the parking lot. She had beaten Ellen after all. She didn't know whether she was relieved or not.

“I'm right behind you,” Bernie said when Libby phoned to tell her the news.

“How far behind me?” Libby asked, but it was too late. Bernie had already hung up.

It took Libby another couple of minutes before she reached the edge of the woods. If she had been looking up she might have seen the three men silently crouched behind Mathilda, or the two police cars parked a little way off in the distance, or Ellen standing next to the squad cars. But Libby wasn't looking up. She was looking at the ground because she was afraid she was going to trip and fall. Out of the corner of her eye, off to the left, she saw a flicker of light. When she turned her head and focused on it she saw what had made the flicker—a small, round metallic object at the base of a pine tree, about ten feet away.

As she got closer, she realized that what she'd spotted was a watch lying facedown on the ground.
Maybe it belonged to the dead guy
, she thought. Maybe their luck was about to change. Maybe the watch had an inscription on the back. She was reaching down to get it when she heard someone yell, “There she is.”

Libby froze and looked up. Then someone was shining a light in her eyes. It was so bright it blinded her and she put up her hands to shield her eyes from it.

“Got her,” Ellen's husband yelled as he dug his fingers into Libby's shoulders.

Then Libby heard Ellen yelling, “Leave her alone, Bruce. I told you she doesn't have anything to do with this.”

Libby didn't say anything. She was too dazed.

Chapter 8

B
ernie called her dad at eleven thirty that evening. Sean, in turn, called Marvin and told him they had a situation and he needed him pronto. Then he hung up before Marvin could ask him what was going on. It took Marvin twenty minutes to throw some clothes on and get down to the Simmons's place. When he arrived, he could see Sean sitting on the bench in front of the shop, impatiently jiggling his leg up and down. He was wearing a slightly wrinkled short-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of frayed khakis and looked as if he'd dressed in a hurry.

“What happened?” Marvin called out to Sean as Sean levered himself up with the aid of his cane and started walking toward the Kia. “Are Libby and Bernie all right?”

“They're fine,” Sean snapped. “Just dandy.”

Oh
,
oh
.
What have they gotten themselves into now?
Marvin thought.

Sean pointed his cane at Marvin's passenger. “What's she doing here?”

“She wanted to go for a ride.”

“Hilda is a pig. Pigs don't ride in cars. They don't have ‘wants.' ”

Marvin took his hands off the wheel and crossed them over his chest. “That's what my dad keeps saying.”

“For once he and I are in agreement.”

Marvin sighed. “I already told you, Mr. Simmons, she's used to people and Juno's husband wouldn't take her.”

“That doesn't mean you had to,” Sean pointed out.

“Libby wanted me to, and really, I kinda like her. It's like having a dog, only better, because she's smarter. So what's going on? Why did you call me?” Marvin asked, getting back to the important stuff.

Sean stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “I'll tell you what's going on,” he sputtered. “Your girlfriend and her sister have about as much sense as a turnip. I should have gone with them. If I had, none of this would have happened.”

“None of what would have happened?” Marvin said, trying not to yell.

“In a moment,” Sean told him.

Marvin clenched his teeth and reminded himself there was no point in arguing. He got out to help Sean into the car, but before he got to him Sean waved him off.

“I can manage by myself, thank you very much,” Sean snarled.

Marvin took a step back. “Sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Sean got in the Kia and slammed the door shut. Hilda oinked a hello, which Sean ignored. “At least she doesn't have to sit in the front seat,” Sean complained when Marvin got in.

“She thinks she does,” Marvin replied, closing his door.

“Ridiculous,” Sean muttered. “She's a pig.”

“She thinks she's a person.”

“You're crazy too.”

Marvin ignored the comment and asked where they were going instead. He'd learned that, in general, a good rule of thumb was not to pick a fight with your future father-in-law if possible, especially when said father-in-law was furious.

“The Riverview Motel,” Sean snapped.

Marvin put the Kia in drive and they took off. Sean nodded, lit a cigarette, opened his window, threw the match out of it, and stared at the passing scenery as he smoked his cigarette. Smoking calmed him down. That's one of the things he liked about it.

“Is Libby okay?” Marvin asked after a moment of silence.

“Depends on how you define
okay
.”

“Is she hurt?”

“No.”

“Is Bernie hurt?”

“No.”

“Then what's going on?”

“They're being held for obstruction of justice,” Sean said.

“You're kidding.”

Sean glared at him. “Do I look like I'm kidding, Marvin ?”

Marvin shrunk back in his seat. “No.”

Sean took another drag of his cigarette and thought about how he was going to handle the situation and what a pain in the ass his daughters were.

“So what happened?” Marvin finally worked up the courage to ask.

Sean took another puff of his cigarette and turned to him. “You want to know what happened? I'll tell you what happened. Evidently, Bernie's friend Ellen concocted a phony ransom note ordering her husband to go to the Riverview with money or his wife would die. Naturally, Bruce called the cops and when they got there they found an unidentified white male Caucasian on the bed in the motel room and Ellen outside the motel getting ready to drive away.

“The police were questioning her, when a short while later Libby and Bernie arrived on the scene, and the police took them into custody as well. Any other questions?”

Marvin shook his head.

“Good,” Sean said. “Drive.”

So Marvin concentrated on the road and on keeping Hilda from sitting on his lap. She'd grown quite a bit bigger in the time since he'd gotten her and he was a little bit nervous about how large she was going to get, even though she was a mini Vietnamese potbellied pig and those weren't supposed to get very big.

Traffic was light to nonexistent and it took Marvin a little less than fifteen minutes to drive down to the Riverview Motel. This time Sean didn't correct Marvin's sliding through stop signs. In fact, he didn't say anything to Marvin and Marvin didn't say anything else to him. There was no point. One thing was for sure though. Sean was really, really pissed.

Once he and Marvin arrived at the motel, it took Sean another twenty minutes to persuade the powers-that-be to release his daughters into his custody. He was only glad that his archenemy Lucas Broadbent, aka Lucy, chief of the Longely police, wasn't there to gloat.

“Dad,” Bernie began when she and Libby got out of the squad car, but Sean put up his hand.

“Don't say anything,” he instructed his daughters as they followed him and Marvin back to their van. “Not a word. I am not a happy man at this moment,” he added unnecessarily, that being fairly self-evident. He started walking toward the Kia as fast as he could manage while Marvin hung back.

“Are you okay?” he asked Libby.

Sean stopped and turned around. “She's fine, Marvin. You two can talk later,” he rapped out. “Right now you need to get me home.”

Libby almost said, “I'm not fifteen, Dad,” but she had the good sense not to. Instead she motioned for Marvin to go with her dad. “I'll call you,” she mouthed.

“Make it soon,” Marvin mouthed back. “I miss you and so does Hilda.”

“And I miss you guys,” Libby said.

Sean turned to Marvin. “Enough of that nonsense. Come on. I'm tired and I want to get to bed.”

Marvin blew Libby a kiss and hurried after Sean.

“Boy, Dad's not happy,” Bernie observed when she and Libby got into the van. “I haven't seen him this pissed in a long time.”

“Not since you totaled the Blazer, to be exact. I told you,” Libby said to Bernie once she had started Mathilda up. “I told you nothing good could come of this.”

Bernie rubbed her ankle. It was even more swollen than it had been. Walking on it probably hadn't helped. “And you were right. Does that make you feel better?”

Libby shook her head. “Not even remotely.”

Bernie rested her ankle on the dashboard. At least that would help ease some of the pressure. “Too bad Bruce called the cops.”

“Can you blame him? What would you have done?” Libby asked her sister.

“I don't know. Maybe call us,” Bernie answered.

“Have you thought that Bruce knew the note was fake? Has that occurred to you? Maybe he called the cops because he wanted to teach Ellen a lesson.”

Bernie sighed. “Well, she certainly got one, that's for sure.” Then she changed the subject. “How mad do you think Dad is?”

“On a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest and ten the highest, I'd give him between an eight and a nine,” Libby answered. “He's still talking to us.”

“Kinda.”

“It's better than the ‘silence of death.' ” That was when Sean didn't speak to anyone for days.

The only good thing, as Bernie remarked, was that Sean got over things pretty quickly. Most of the time. The sisters just hoped that this was one of those times.