Another Word for Murder (5 page)

“It's a bar, Frank. People don't need an invitation to walk in.” Bonnie's tone was stiff and unyielding, as was her body language.

He straightened up slightly. “Whoa, someone's testy tonight.”

“It's been a long day. And I'm tired. What can I do for you?”

“Ain't you gonna offer me a beer, lil' sis?”

“Are you driving?”

“Is the pope Catholic?” He laughed, then hiccuped noisily.

Bonnie leaned against a large chair, facing her brother. “It looks to me like you've had enough booze already. Especially if you've got to drive home. I can make you some coffee if you'd like, but that's it.”

“Nah …” He hiccuped again, then slumped back down into the leather cushion.

Bonnie sighed, loudly this time. She made no attempt to conceal her annoyance. “Better yet, why don't you just spend the night on the couch.” She looked across the room at her TV. “I think the Sox are out in Oakland. There's probably a game on.”

Frank chortled. “What? No boyfriend to cuddle up with tonight? High-rolling, sonny-boy didn't fink out on you again, did he?”

Bonnie furrowed her brow; her eyes were slits. “I don't need you coming into my house and talking like that, okay? I do my best to help you out, Frank, so have a little respect. My relationships are my business, not yours.”

“Yeah, sure …. What the heck? My money says he ain't gonna be in the picture much longer, anyways.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That he's the type that moves on, that's all. Sets you up here, and then decides he'd like something closer to home or like that…. He's like a bass guitar player, know what I mean? You know how many bass players the bands I've been in have gone through in the last five years? A bunch. That's how many. They always think the grass is gonna be greener somewheres else so they take a powder on ya. That's all I'm sayin'. They all got some sorta racket goin' on. Your guy reminds me of all them damn bass players. They're all the same.”

“Right. And just how many bands have you played for in the last five years? Not to mention rackets.”

“That's different,” Frank said indignantly. “I'm a drummer. Drummers gotta move on every now and then. Ya gotta stretch yourself artistically. 'Cause see, drummers stay in the same area of the world—just like me. Ain't that easy to pack up your drums and move from here to there. But bass players? They fly off; go to places like Los Angeles, New York, Europe, even …”

She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Thank you for the advice. I'll keep it in mind.”

“Any time.” He inhaled deeply from his cigarette. “You know, Rob thinks you're hot stuff…. So, did he ask you to swing by the Sheep tonight or not?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, see, he said he was gonna…. Said he had an appointment with one of your docs this afternoon. But then it's weird, he didn't even show up for work tonight. Terry had to fill in for him.”

Bonnie shrugged. “Maybe something came up.”

“I was thinkin' that maybe you two was off doin' something together. Guess I was wrong.”

She stifled another sigh, then stared at her brother until his glance shifted away, and his shoulders curved into a defensive V that made him look old and beaten. “What do you want, Frank? I'm tired and I'd like to go to bed.”

“Well … I could use a little cash.”

“Frank—”

“Without the lecture.”

Bonnie turned and walked into her kitchen thinking,
That was a stupid question; of course, he's here for cash. That's all he ever wants
. She took a twenty-dollar bill from her purse, returned to the living room, and held it out to her brother.

Frank took the bill and said, “I'm gonna need more than this, sis. I gotta run a payment for my truck over to the car lot tomorrow or they're gonna repo it.”

“How much is that?”

“Three hundred oughta' do it.”

Bonnie let out a prolonged and unhappy breath. “I thought I saw an ad in one of the weeklies listing a gig for The Ravens at Oasis this weekend. That's who you're playing for now, isn't it? The Ravens? Can't you put off the car dealer until you get paid? I don't have three hundred dollars, Frank.”

He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “Yeah, well, me and The Ravens had some artistic differences.”

“They fired you.” Bonnie said flatly. It was a statement, not a question. She knew the answer.

“If you listen to them, yeah, that's what they're gonna say, but the truth is I'd had it…. They ain't goin' nowheres. I mean, playin' a dump like Oasis, what's that?”

“A job.”

“See, that's why I was hopin' your big, bad boyfriend would be here and not Rob. He'd front me the dough and not put me through the third degree.”

Bonnie didn't respond. Instead, she returned to the kitchen, removed her checkbook from her purse, and wrote a check to Frank for three hundred dollars. Then she walked back into the living room and handed it to her brother. “I want you to leave, Frank. I have to get some sleep.”

“Thanks, babe.” He folded the check and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “Look, don't worry; I'm gonna get this back to you soon. I'm workin' on something else; it could be a really big deal. If it works out, I'll be able to wipe the slate clean.”

“You have to go, Frank.”

“Yeah, sure … sure … sure thing …” He stood and walked to the door. Bonnie watched the determined set of his back and shoulders, but also noticed how thin they'd become. She could see the knobs of his spine poking through his shirt.

“Thanks for the jack, babe. What do you want me to tell Rob when I see him?”

“Why don't you just stay out of the Black Sheep?”

“Nah, that's where the action is; that's where you make your contacts in this town.”

CHAPTER 7

Lily had been fussy all morning, and even the promise that Daddy was coming home early from work so that he could finally join in their afternoon jaunt to the dog park did little to lift the spirits of the fretful child. Karen was afraid her daughter was coming down with one of the constant colds her age group seemed prone to, and she kept placing her palm on Lily's forehead, waiting for and dreading the first sign of a fever.

“Go 'way,” Lily ordered as her mother's fingers again passed across her brow. The little girl twisted in her chair in the kitchen's breakfast nook where she'd been having a mid-morning snack of “pig” newtons and milk, nearly falling off her booster seat.

“Lily, stay still. I just want to make sure you're not getting sick.”

“Not sick.” Lily bent down and rested her cheek on the bleached oak surface of the table. Her eyes had tears in them. “I want my daddy,” she said. “And I don't want any milk. I hate milk.”

“Okay, but we don't say ‘hate,'” Karen said. “Remember what I told you? Why don't you and I go outside and play in the garden and wait for Daddy to come home. You can be the first to see his car coming up the street. He's driving the big white one that you and Bear like to ride in.”

Lily jumped out of her chair and ran to the front door while Karen followed behind, having tossed away the offending milk. “Let's put on your jacket first in case it starts getting cooler.”

Lily submitted to her mother's ministrations, then the two of them stepped outside. Bear was already there, sprawled on the grass and snoozing in the sun. An “invisible fence” kept him from wandering away from his own property, and Lily had been told not to stray too close to the electrical field lest Bear follow her and hurt himself. The warning had the added benefit of keeping the little girl from running into the road. She would never allow her dog to be harmed.

“I don't see Daddy,” Lily now said. Her expression was at its most serious, and the sight of the small, angelic body holding itself in imperious judgment brought a quick smile to Karen's face.

“We have to wait, Lily.”

Bear stood groggily, turned his head to glance at mother and daughter, then flopped back down on the grass.

“We have to wait, Bear,” Lily told his languid back. Then she also plopped herself onto the grass, where she stretched her bare legs before her.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't sit on the damp ground. Let's walk around back to the deck and you can sit in your special chair.”

“I want to see Daddy come.”

“Okay, we'll both get your chair, and you can sit out here in front.”

“I want to wait and see Daddy come.”

Karen sighed. “If I leave you and go to the back of the house, you have to promise me not to move from this spot.”

“Okay …” The sound was bored and a little superior.

“You have to say you promise.”

“I promise.”

“I'm trusting you to stay right where you are and not go anywhere near the street, Lily-bet.”

“Promise.”

But when Karen returned less than two minutes later her daughter was nowhere to be seen. It was if she had evaporated.

For the first split second, the mother's reaction was disbelief; her eyes rapidly scanned the spot where Lily had been sitting then jumped to Bear, who was still lying inert as a stone.

Then immediately followed irritation. “Lily Tacete, you come here immediately!”

No Lily; not even a reaction from the dog, who ordinarily would have been affected by the harshness of the words.

“Lily?” Karen's tone had become perplexed. “Where are you …? Come on … this isn't a good time to play hide and seek. You want to be the first to see Daddy coming home, don't you?” By now the sound of her voice vacillated between cajoling and pleading. “Lily?”

But Lily neither responded nor appeared.

“Oh, wait, here he comes now,” Karen lied. “I see his car turning the corner.” The gambit failed to work. There was still no sign of her daughter.

After that, panic ensued. It was the terror that lies beside every parent's heart, just waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. Karen's face turned ashen, and her lips clenched in a bloodless line.
What did Dan say about someone following him home two nights ago? Or the mysterious caller who hung up? What was all that crazy stuff about? Maybe Dan wasn't simply tired and inventing scary scenarios. Maybe someone had actually been stalking him. Or
…

Karen shut her eyes, then as swiftly opened them and stared fiercely ahead.
No one would take my Lily away
, she promised herself.
No one in the world would consider such a cruel and terrible thing. Besides … besides, this is a safe neighborhood. Everyone knows one another. Nothing bad could happen in a place like this
.

But even as these arguments flooded Karen's brain she realized the reverse was by far the truer argument.
It was precisely neighborhoods like Halcyon Estates that were targets for criminals. And the children of wealthy parents were their favorite
… She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.

Karen turned on her heel and walked toward the front door, but before she'd gone more than two steps, she spun back toward the lawn and garden again. “You stupid dog,” she all but shouted. “Can't you even bark or—?” A sob shook her chest. “Just lying there while my baby is … What good are you?” The accusation ended in a low wail. She shut her eyes again, even while warning herself that she had to get a grip, had to to focus and concentrate, had to figure out what to do next.

“Don't be mad at Bear, Mommy.”

The voice was worried and flutey. While Karen steeled herself, her eyes closed, her lungs trying simply to breathe in and out, the words swam into her ears as if they'd come from a great distance.

“I'm sorry, Mommy. I shouldn't have hided from you. Where's Daddy's car?”

Karen opened her eyes. There stood her daughter, her jacket dusted with torn leaves and shards of twigs, her knees muddy, a look of penitence and apprehension on her face.

Karen's lips formed an O, as if she were about to speak, but instead of words came tears, and she bent down and swept Lily into her arms.

“I shouldn't have hided from you, Mommy …”

“No, you shouldn't have,” Karen wept.

“Where's Daddy?”

“It … it was a different car. One just like Daddy's.”

“Don't be mad at Bear, Mommy.”

“I won't. I won't. I won't.”

After that, they settled down to wait for Dan.

CHAPTER 8

“It's Karen.” Belle held her hand over the receiver as she turned to speak to Rosco. “She wants to talk to you. She sounds very upset.”

Rosco took the phone from his wife, blew her a small kiss, and then concentrated on the caller, “Karen. Hi. What's wrong?”

The sobs on the other end of the telephone made it difficult for Rosco to piece together the story, and his own brief and disjointed responses and questions made it well nigh impossible for Belle to do anything but guess at what the problem might be.

“I see … I see … And then what …?” He drew in a long breath. “Mm hm … okay … and when did you last see or hear—?” He nodded in silent reply as another torrent of words poured forth. When the voice at the other end of the line ceased, he asked a quiet, “Did you call the police?”

Belle couldn't hear the reply, although she stood close to her husband.

“And what was
their
suggestion …? Mm hm … Yes, that sounds about right. Not what you wanted to hear, I know…. But you don't know that something horrible's happened. You've got to remind yourself of that fact…. ” As Rosco stood, listening, he glanced at Belle, who made obvious hand and facial gestures indicating that she wanted to know what was going on. He ignored the pleas, but his face had assumed such a grave expression that Belle forgave him completely.