All Fall Down (16 page)

“Why don’t you come in instead?” Blaine said suddenly. She was aware of Robin tensing uncomfortably. “It’s one-thirty,” she continued easily. “I can make us something for lunch, and you can call the garage for us.”

Tony seemed as surprised as Robin and unsure of himself. “You don’t have to make me lunch, Mrs. Avery, just because I brought you home.”

“Well, if you’re not hungry…”

At that moment Tony’s stomach let out a resounding growl. He slapped his hand to his abdomen, looked dumbfounded, then burst into laughter along with Blaine. Even Robin couldn’t stifle a smile. “I guess that answers your question,” he said. “I didn’t eat any breakfast.”

“We all need something to eat, and certainly something to drink. Something
hot
. I’m freezing.” She smiled at Tony and Robin. “Come on, you two. Let’s not sit out here arguing all day.”

Martin would have had a fit, Blaine thought. This wasn’t the kind of boy he’d wanted for his daughter. But Martin hadn’t always been right, Blaine reminded herself. For all of his confidence, he hadn’t been able to see into the human heart any more than she could. All she could go on was instinct, and instinct told her that maybe Tony, whom the girl obviously admired, would be the only person who could pull her out of her shock and depression.

Blaine quickly punched in the numbers that disarmed the new alarm system, and the three of them tramped in. Ashley stood in the entrance hall. She studied Tony closely for a few moments, suspicion showing in her expressive eyes. He knelt and held out his hand to her. She stared into his face, looked at the hand, then sat down and offered her own paw in the regal way that had always made Martin laugh.

“You’ve been accepted by the queen of the household,” Blaine said. “Very few people get this treatment.”

Tony smiled, shaking the proffered paw. “She just knows I like dogs. Got one of my own. German shepherd about fifteen years old. His name’s Doc. We grew up together.”

“I remember him,” Blaine said.

“Doc?” Robin asked, the first word she’d uttered since Tony joined them.

“Yeah. Mom bought him for me when I was three and all hung up on Bugs Bunny saying, ‘What’s up, Doc?’ I thought it was the funniest thing I’d ever heard. Stupid, huh?”

Robin shook her head. “Not stupid. I’m sure he likes it. The dog, I mean.”

“He doesn’t know any better. If he did, he’d probably rather be called King or Rin-Tin-Tin or something.”

“Tony, if you’ll call Pearson’s Garage for me, I’ll fix some lunch.” Blaine shrugged out of her dark coat and shook the snow from her hair, which was beginning to curl tightly from the dampness. “Any menu requests?”

“Whatever you’ve got, Mrs. Avery.”

Blaine went into the kitchen, hearing him talking into the phone in the living room, and opened the refrigerator door. Plenty of ham. Some sliced turkey. Swiss cheese. She’d just bought a new bag of potato chips and baked a cherry pie the night before. She only baked when she was nervous and trying to take her mind off things.

“Tony called the garage,” Robin said, hovering behind Blaine at the refrigerator. “They said they’d pick up the car in about an hour.”

“Good.”

“Can I help?”

Robin
never
offered to help with meals, and Blaine could barely suppress a smile. “I have everything under control. Why don’t you go back out and talk to Tony?”

Robin made a strangled sound and Blaine looked at her in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Can’t I please help you in here?” She hung her head, her long hair falling over her face. “I can’t think of anything to say. Besides, he’s a murder suspect,” she whispered.

“So am I, Robin.” The girl blinked at her. “You don’t really think he had anything to do with Rosie’s death, do you?”

“Well, I…I don’t know.”

Blaine took a deep breath. “I’ve known him since he was a child, Rob.
I
don’t think he killed Rosie.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“You can’t be sure about a lot of things in life.” The girl gave her a long, penetrating stare. “Robin, we can’t just leave Tony out there. Talk to him about anything. School. Dogs. Music.”

Robin sighed, then straightened her shoulders and marched back to the living room as if she were headed to the guillotine. Blaine felt slightly guilty, knowing what an ordeal this was for her, but feeling that in the long run it would be good for her. After all, it wasn’t as if Robin needed time alone to vent her grief after Rosie’s funeral. If Tony left this minute, she would simply shut herself in her room and sit looking at magazines and playing her electric piano until dark, which was what she’d done for more than two weeks after her father died.

Fifteen minutes later, when Blaine carried in a tray of sandwiches and cups of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, Robin and Tony were talking desultorily about dogs while Ashley sat gazing up into the young man’s eyes as if trying to uncover a mystery. It’s almost as if
she
knows he’s a murder suspect, too, Blaine mused.

“Need some help with that?” Tony asked, going toward Blaine to take the tray. “Wow! Those are the biggest sandwiches I’ve ever seen.”

Blaine smiled. “Judging by the sound your stomach made earlier, I’d say you need a big sandwich. There’s also cherry pie for later.”

“Great.”

As they ate, Blaine asked Tony about his family. “Sandra’s got another baby on the way,” he said between bites. “That makes four.”

“She’s been busy! I’ve tried to get together with her for the last couple of years, but except for a lunch at her house, she’s been too tied up and distracted.”

Tony’s look darkened. “Yeah. She worries about the whole family, too—Mom’s arthritis, which is getting pretty bad. Then Jane took off a couple of years ago to be an airline stewardess. Sandra’s sure every flight she’s on is gonna crash.”

“You can’t blame her for being concerned about her little sister.”

“I guess not. Then there’s me. Always the black sheep. And Joe.” Not
Dad
, Blaine thought.
Joe
. “She’s determined to make everything okay between us again. I don’t think it ever will be—I’ll never forgive him for dumping Mom and all us kids five years ago—but I’ve got a nice stepmother. She likes me. Joe thinks I’m worthless.”

“Oh, Tony, I’m sure he doesn’t,” Blaine said.

“Yes, he does. He only lends me his car sometimes because my stepmother makes him. She wants us to be like a regular father and son, too.”

“I’ve forgotten how long your father’s been remarried.”

“Two years. I wish Mom could have found somebody nice, but I don’t think she ever really tried. She was too wrapped up in us kids. Now she’s got this damned arthritis. I don’t think she’s gonna be able to work more than a couple more years. She just never gets any breaks.”

A look of unutterable sadness swept over Tony’s face, and Blaine abruptly changed the subject to his rock band. Before long, though, the subject turned to Rosie.

“I was a little surprised when you stormed out of my class the other day,” Blaine ventured.

Tony looked away. “It was that poem—‘Annabel Lee.’ It was Rosie’s favorite poem. She wanted me to write some music for it one time, but I said it wasn’t my style. She was pretty disappointed. When you started reading it in class that day, I thought about how easy it would have been to make Rosie happy, but I hadn’t bothered.”

Blaine noticed Robin watching him with interest. “We found Rosie’s stuff in the basement,” Robin volunteered suddenly.

Blaine looked at the girl in shock. She’s trying to get a reaction from him, Blaine thought. She’s playing amateur detective. “I know. Arletta Stroud told everyone. Suitcase. Jacket. Purse.” Tony cocked an eyebrow at Robin. “Do I have it right?”

“Yeah. We found all that behind the furnace. It was hidden. Why do you suppose someone would do that?”

Tony frowned. “She must have already been in this house. Oh, I know that, too. That she was meeting someone here. But that person didn’t have time to get rid of her things.”

“That’s what the sheriff says,” Blaine told him.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“You don’t know who she was meeting, do you, Tony?” Blaine asked.

He set his pie plate down on the coffee table and looked at her with what appeared to be complete honesty. “Don’t you think I’d tell the police if I knew? God, whoever it was must have
killed
her. Slashed her
wrists
. Let her lie in the water all that time.” His face took on a slightly gray tone. “It makes me sick to think about it.”

If you’re acting, you’re awfully good at it, Blaine thought. She glanced at Robin to see that the guarded expression she’d worn ever since Tony had appeared at the car window had disappeared.

“Well, I think that’s enough discussion about poor Rosie,” Blaine said briskly. “Tony, how about another piece of pie?”

The early-season snow had stopped by the time Tony finished his second slice of cherry pie. The sun was struggling against the grayness of the day, and Blaine felt her spirits rising slightly. If the sun could shine on this sad day, then surely the world couldn’t be as dark as it had seemed since she’d found Rosie’s body.

As Blaine began gathering up the dishes, Tony turned to Robin. “You know, for the past couple of days I’ve been kicking around this idea about the talent contest.”

Robin looked guardedly interested. “What is it?”

“Well, don’t be offended, but neither of us was in top form during Tuesday’s rehearsal.” Robin immediately turned scarlet and Tony rushed on. “I knew I’d say it wrong. I mean, you were terrific, but that classical stuff just doesn’t go over with a lot of people. Most people in the Sinclair High School audience, that is. And my song isn’t ready. Rosie was helping with the lyrics, but…Well, anyway, it’s not right yet and I’m not comfortable with it. So I thought of this—why don’t you and I do something together?”

“Together?” Robin echoed.

“Sure. Me on guitar and vocals, you on the piano. Unless, of course, you can sing and I don’t know it.”

“I sound like a dying moose when I sing,” Robin said with such sincerity that Tony broke up.

“Okay. No dying moose onstage,” he said, recovering. “But what do you think about us doing a song?”

“Well, I guess we could.” Oh, no, Blaine thought. That means rehearsals together. “Do you mean something like Eric Clapton’s ‘Layla’?” Robin asked.

Tony’s eyes widened. “Robin, you’re
psychic!
That’s the song I’ve been thinking about since Tuesday night!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’ll have to get the sheet music for you—”

“I already know it.”

Tony gaped. “You
do?
”

“Well, I don’t play only classical music, Tony. I listened to the song a few times and then I played it. The piano part, that is.”

“Mrs. Avery, can you believe this?” he demanded.

No, she couldn’t. She believed that anything acceptable Robin suggested would have been
the
song Tony had in mind, and naturally she’d suggested something she already knew how to play. But in spite of Blaine’s doubts about Tony, in spite of her fury with the girl, she was touched by the look of hope and excitement in her eyes. Blaine hadn’t seen that look since Martin had died. “What do you think, Mrs. Avery? Think it’s a good idea for us to do the song together?”

“I think…I think it’s okay as long as the two of you rehearse here,” she said slowly. “I don’t like Robin being out at night with all that’s going on.”

“Well, sure, okay,” Tony said. Robin cast her a look of infinite gratitude, and Blaine prayed she was doing the right thing. She didn’t want to hurt either of them, didn’t want to drive Martin’s daughter even farther away from her. She’d already decided that no matter how angry she was, she wasn’t going to banish Robin to her grandparents’ home during her senior year of high school. Still, Robin seemed so young, so vulnerable, and there was a killer loose…

“Why don’t we do some practicing while I’m here?” Tony asked.

Robin immediately stood up and headed for the piano, with Tony close behind. Ashley was quick to follow, as if she, too, were going to participate in the act.

A few minutes later Robin was banging out the familiar chords of “Layla” when the doorbell rang. She and Tony remained at the piano, but Ashley accompanied Blaine as she went to answer it. Logan Quint stood on the porch.

“Sorry to bother you, Blaine, but I’m looking for Tony Jarvis. Someone told me he’d brought you and Robin home.”

“Yes, he did.” Blaine felt as if the day had suddenly grown darker. “Is something wrong?”

Logan’s hooded gaze revealed nothing. “I just need to see him.”

Reluctantly, Blaine led him into the living room. Robin halted in mid-chord, and she and Tony stared at Logan.

He nodded at Robin, then looked at Tony. “I’d like you to come with me.”

Tony stiffened, his dark eyes growing wary. “What for?”

“Questioning.”

“You’ve already questioned me about Rosie’s murder. This isn’t about Kathy, is it?”

“Not directly. I just need to ask you a few more things.”

Tony slid off the piano bench and stood, his expression growing defiant. “Why more questions?”

“I think it would be better if we talked about this in my office.”

“No. Something’s happened and I want to know
now
, before I go anywhere.”

Robin’s eyes had grown huge, their earlier shining happiness vanished.

“All right, Jarvis, we’ll do it your way,” Logan said evenly. “Friday evening, the evening of Rosie’s murder, you said you and your group were practicing out at Ron Gibson’s farm until nearly seven o’clock.”

“Yeah. You talked to Ron—he told you I was there.”

“You also said that after you left Gibson’s, you went straight home.”

Tony’s chin lifted slightly. “That’s right.”

“Gibson’s farm is ten miles south of town. You should have been home by seven-fifteen to seven-thirty at the latest.”

“My mom told you I got home a little after seven.”

“Yes, she did. But neither of you mentioned that your father was at your mother’s house, waiting for you to get in. Seems he was pretty steamed because you’d borrowed his car that day to haul music equipment and promised to have the car back by around seven. He told me you didn’t arrive home until ten o’clock.” Logan paused, his eyes boring into Tony’s. “Want to tell me why you lied about where you were during the time when Rosalind Van Zandt was getting her wrists slashed?”