Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) (12 page)

“And what do you think would be best for you?”

A sly smile crept across Da-Marr’s lips and he sat up just a bit straighter. “Being a hip-hop producer. Yeah. People would be begging me to get their shit out in front of the masses. Everyone would kiss my ass. I’d have respect.
Real
respect.”

“And how likely is that to ever happen?” Richard asked, trying not to sound entirely negative.

Da-Marr’s posture took a hit. “Shit, man — it ain’t never gonna happen. Truth is, I don’t wanna go to college. I got more street smarts than school smarts.”

“Everyone needs to do something with their life,” Richard said.

“Like you?” Da-Marr said with contempt.

“Hey, I’m a doctor. That’s not an insignificant achievement.”

Da-Marr snorted. “From what I hear, you’re too soft to be any good.”

Richard’s back stiffened. Just what had Brenda told Evelyn, and how much had she shared with Da-Marr?

“You’re kinda old to be havin’ a kid, too.”

“I wasn’t aware fatherhood was dependent on a timeline.”

“I had a kid,” Da-Marr bragged.

Richard hadn’t expected that revelation. “Oh?”

“Sure. I got a picture.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a wallet. He fumbled inside and pulled out a creased and rather fuzzy photo of an infant. “Da-Marr Junior,” he said with pride.

“How old is he now?”

Da-Marr shook his head. “He died. He was born too soon. That’s why Aunt Evelyn knits baby hats for preemies.”

“Are you and your son’s mother still together?”

Da-Marr shook his head. “She’s a real bitch. Wanted to get married. Hey, I got things to do before I get tied down. And since our kid was dead, why bother?”

Richard couldn’t help himself. “Why indeed?”

“I’m gonna make something of myself and she woulda weighed me down.”

“I don’t know. Brenda’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Again, the young man shrugged. “You’re lucky. You got born to rich people.”

Maybe, but he hadn’t been happy — really happy — until Brenda had entered his life.

“What do you see yourself doing for the next couple of months before you start school?”

Da-Marr moved his head to look at Richard. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe you should get a job.”

“I ain’t got no skills.”

“As far as I know, McDonald’s is always hiring.”

“I ain’t working no shit minimum-wage job.”

“Have you ever had a job?” Richard asked.

“Yeah, a shit minimum-wage job. I ain’t doin’ that again.”

“You’ve got no major in mind, and no job skills. What do you see yourself doing in five years?”

Da-Marr’s expression was blank. Had he — or Evelyn — thought that far ahead?

“Is there a chance you’d prefer to go to a vocational school?”

Da-Marr shrugged. “For what?”

“Construction.”

“That’s hard work,” Da-Marr said angrily.

“Plumbers made good money.”

“And are up to their elbows in everybody’s shit. No way.”

Richard added another steak to the grill and poked at the first. “You did a good job fixing that lawn mower. Have you thought about being an auto mechanic?”

Da-Marr shrugged once again. “Maybe.”

“Or how about an aviation mechanic,” Richard suggested.

The kid turned his head toward Richard, his eyes widening. “Working on planes?”

“Sure, why not? Because you’re right; not everyone wants or needs to go to college, but there are lots of great-paying jobs out there that need skilled workers.”

Da-Marr’s expression soured. “You don’t think I’m smart enough for college.”

“Not at all. But if you don’t want to be there, you aren’t going to succeed. You’d disappoint your parents, your aunt, but most of all yourself.”

“My aunt has really pushed to get me into college. If I changed plans now, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Richard kept his gaze on the spitting steaks. “Part of growing up is figuring out how you’re going to live the rest of your life.” He was quiet for a long moment, and then decided to be honest. “You were right about me.”

Da-Marr looked up, confused.

“I am too soft to deal with direct patient care.”

“Scared of blood or something?” Da-Marr guessed.

Richard shook his head. “Nothing like that. I don’t like people dying on me. I don’t like when they come to me asking how to get well, and then don’t do what they need to do to get better.”

“So what do you do now?”

“I volunteer my time with the hospital foundation. But before that, I had to figure out what I could do as a doctor that didn’t involve patient care.”

“Which was?”

“For a lot of years, I worked for a think tank out in California. We evaluated medical equipment and did a lot of other cool stuff. That’s where I met Brenda. We worked together for almost eight years.” He smiled at the memory.

“So what’re you sayin’?” Da-Marr asked.

Richard shrugged. “If you like working with your hands — figure out what you could do that would bring you a living wage and what you could do for the rest of your life that wouldn’t bore you to tears.”

Da-Marr looked away, his expression unreadable. “Aunt Evelyn wouldn’t be happy knowing you’re trying to talk me outta going to college.”

“I’m not trying to talk you into or out of anything. You’re the one who seems iffy about college.” Richard added the last two steaks and turned the others. “Would you go in and tell Brenda these steaks will be ready in a couple of minutes?”

Da-Marr got up without a word and headed for the kitchen. Richard watched him disappear around the corner of the house. Was it his imagination or had the kid stood just a bit taller than he had before their conversation? Richard smiled but then soon sobered. If Da-Marr decided he wasn’t going to go to college, Richard knew he’d catch hell from Evelyn.

His phone rang and Richard extricated it from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. He didn’t know who the caller was, but the number looked vaguely familiar. He picked up the call. “Hello.”

“Hi, Richard. It’s Sam Nielsen. Jeff’s friend.”

“Hi, Sam. I’m sorry, but Jeff’s not around. I don’t know where he is or when he’ll be back. But I’ll tell him you called.”

“I’m not looking for him this time,” the reporter said and the timber of his voice was different from the other times Richard had spoken to him, which immediately raised his hackles.

“What’s up?” Richard asked guardedly.

“That’s it. I’m not sure, but I’m worried about him.”

The hackles rose even higher “Oh?”

“As a reporter, I protect my sources. But as a friend….”

“Sam, what’s wrong?” Richard asked.

A long interval of silence followed before Sam answered. “I asked Jeff to help me on a story for the paper. I wanted him to touch stuff. To tell me what kind of vibes he got. This afternoon we went to an auction preview and one of the items on offer is a vintage baseball bat.”

“Oh, God,” Richard muttered, his heart sinking.

“I swear; I completely forgot that he was hurt by a mugger wielding a baseball bat. The thing is, I picked it up and went to swing, and — ” He let out a tormented breath. “The guy absolutely freaked out.”

“Jesus,” Richard swore.

“He bolted, ended up on the floor, smashed his camera — the works. I tried to call him on his cell, but he hasn’t picked up.

“When did this happen?”

“A few hours ago. I figured he’d head for home, but I called his cell and landline. Nothing.” His tone changed. “As his brother — his only family — I think you should take this incident seriously. I’m no shrink, but I’ve been around enough vets to know a case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder when I see it. He obviously hasn’t gotten over the mugging. I think he needs help.”

The steaks, now forgotten, continued to sputter.

Sam’s opinion was not unanticipated, but unsettling nonetheless. “I appreciate you calling me, Sam. The truth is, our lives have been turned upside this past week.” He wasn’t about to go into how.

“Then you know what’s going on with him?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Sam let out what sounded like an exasperated breath. “Jeff and I aren’t exactly friends, but even I can see he’s hurting and confused. I thought you should know.”

“Thanks.”

“When you see him, ask him to give me a call, willya?”

“I will, thank you.”

“Good night.”

Richard ended the call, staring at his phone for a long moment, then he hit autodial. Jeff’s cell phone rang and rang before an automated message said, “The wireless customer you are calling is not available. Please try again later.” Next, he tried Maggie’s cell number. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hello, Richard, what’s up?” Maggie asked without enthusiasm.

“Have you seen Jeff?”

“Not since his morning. He dropped Herschel off and was going to crash on my couch for a few hours.”

“This morning?” Richard asked. He’d last seen his brother around one in the morning.

“Yeah, they slept in his car out in my driveway. He didn’t want to wake me,” she said wearily. She sounded awful — depressed. “Is everything okay? Brenda hasn’t gone into labor or anything?”

“Everything’s okay,” he lied, “I was just wondering where Jeff was. He hasn’t checked in since last night.

“He might be at my place. I gave him a key to Lily’s apartment — that’s where Herschel is. Herschel and Holly don’t exactly hit it off.”

“How is your mother-in-law?”

Maggie sighed. “She had a setback today,” she said, her voice breaking. “She fell.”

“Did she break anything?”

“No, but her face is a mess. It’s terribly bruised. I feel so guilty that she’s stuck in the rehab facility and not at home where I could take care of her —
if
I could take care of her.”

“You have to work,” he said reasonably.

“That’s for damn sure.” She changed the subject. “If you find Jeff at my place, tell him I’ll be late tonight. I don’t want to leave Lily until they put her to bed, and that won’t be until at least nine.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Tell Brenda I’ll try and call her tomorrow.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Bye.” He punched the call end. Sure as shit Jeff wasn’t going to find comfort in someone who could use a mega dose of it herself. There was only one other place he could think of to call. He punched in the number.

“Whole Nine Yards, this is Tom. What can I do for you?”

“Tom, it’s Richard — Jeff’s brother.”

“You found him,” Tom said, without Richard even asking. “Been sitting in the corner nursing a double shot of Mr. Jack. Dave and me, we left him alone. He doesn’t seem to want to talk. I figured if he didn’t move in another hour I’d give you a call.”

“I appreciate that. Listen, I can’t get over there for at least half an hour — maybe forty-five minutes.”

“Don’t worry. He ain’t going nowhere. I’ll make sure of that,” Tom said.

“Thanks. See you.”

Richard pocketed his phone, turned off the gas, then switched off the burners before stabbing the steaks with the big fork and dropping them onto the clean, waiting platter. He hoped Evelyn liked hers as well-done as she’d indicated, because he doubted any of them had any juice left.

As he rounded the corner for the house, he saw a strange car in the driveway. Da-Marr stood near the driver’s door talking with its occupant. As he got closer, Richard recognized the make: a steel gray Infinity no more than a couple of years old.

“Who’s your friend?” Richard called.

Da-Marr stepped away from the car and Richard saw a white male who looked to be almost a decade older than Da-Marr sitting behind the wheel.

“This is Bobby. His father has a boat at the marina.”

Richard switched the platter to his left hand and held out his right to shake hands. “Richard Alpert. Nice to meet you.”

Bobby focused on the steaks. “I guess you like them well done.”

“Yeah,” Richard said. “I don’t mean to rush you along, Da-Marr, but you know how your aunts gets if you’re late.”

“I’ll be right in,” he said.

Richard nodded. “Nice to have met you.”

Bobby nodded and smiled, and Richard started back for the house.

Was Da-Marr’s friend going to delay dinner? As it was, Richard wondered how he was going eat and then run to The Whole Nine Yards without giving a detailed explanation as to why. And no way did he want to give Evelyn the excuse of making it her business.

I’d been staring at nothing for so long, trying not to think, that it took three taps on my shoulder before it registered that someone was trying to get my attention. I looked up.

“Mind if I sit down?” Richard asked.

I turned back to face the wall. “It’s a free country. Or, at least it used to be.”

Richard took the seat opposite me, setting a glass and a bottle of Molson Blue on the table. “I’d offer to get you something, but I see you’re already taken care of.”

I glared at him. “I’m not drunk.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

I watched as he poured his drink. “You missed supper. Good thing, too. The steaks were charred — just the way Evelyn likes them.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye and felt myself squirm. “I suppose Sam called you.”

“Yup. He said you broke your camera.”

“I dropped it. It’s toast.”

“Cameras can be fixed — or replaced. People can’t.”

“You’re not telling me anything new,” I said and wet my lips with my drink. I didn’t have the stomach to actually sip it.

“I talked to Maggie.” He let out a breath. “She’s really bummed. Lily took a tumble today.”

I looked up. “Is she okay?”

“She will be, but man — doesn’t it seem like the world has been shitting on everything and everybody we know?”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said, and actually took a minute sip of my bourbon.

Richard raised his glass and took a sip. “Is Herschel okay?”

“He was last time I saw him.” Damn, he was going to need to be fed — and soon.

“Speaking from personal experience, I don’t think Maggie’s in a position to have a guest right now.” I looked up, met his gaze, and found it full of concern. “She sounds pretty damned depressed.”

“Are you trying to lay a guilt trip on me?”

“No,” he said, adamant. “It’s just an observation. Do you want to stay in a hotel for a few days?”

“I’ve thought about it. The idea really doesn’t appeal to me. I like sleeping in my own bed — or Maggie’s, but as you inferred, that ain’t gonna happen for a while.”

“Your bathroom window’s fixed. The place has been cleaned, exterminated, and all the light bulbs replaced.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He drank more of his beer while I stared into the depths of my glass.

“I had a locksmith come over, too. I’ve got an extra key to your place. The
only
extra key. Brenda — and Maggie — can have one after our guests leave.”

“And do you have a departure date?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“No. My point is, nobody but me is going to get in without your say so.”

“Unless they break a window.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

“And you know this because?”

“I had a talk with Da-Marr.”

I let out a breath and polished off the rest of my drink, letting the glass smack the table with a thunk. Richard drained his glass, too.

“I’m damned sorry the kid has badgered you — and I’m not trying to trivialize what he’s done. I don’t blame you for being pissed off, and I’m in awe of your restraint. I let him know that I won’t tolerate him stepping out of line again. If he does, that’s it — I don’t care what Brenda says — he’s out of my house. But I also feel sorry for him. Evelyn has good intentions, but she hasn’t figured out that she can’t make Da-Marr do what he doesn’t want to do. I want to trust what she says, that he’s basically a good kid, but I’m just not sure.”

I had no comment. At least not one that I was willing to voice.

“In a way, he kind of reminds me of you.”

I looked up sharply. “Me?”

“In your misspent youth, you did climb a ladder with a pumpkin on your head, rap on my grandmother’s bedroom window, and nearly scare her to death.”

Shame washed through me. Yeah, I had done that.

“Are you ready to go home now?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

He pushed back his chair and stood. “Come on.”

I got up. We carried our glasses to the bar, where Richard left a ten-dollar tip. “Thanks, Tom. See ya, Dave,” he called as we headed for the door.

“See you on Friday,” Tom called after me, and I waved a hand in acknowledgment.

But it struck me as I headed for my car, that I didn’t know if come Friday, I’d be in any condition to go to work.

And I didn’t know what that meant, either.

Oh, for the days of boring routine. They were never likely to come again once Betsy Ruth arrived. They’d have to get used to a new normal. But Richard still longed for one more day of his old life. A day spent with Brenda. A day when they ate when they wanted, a day when they went where they wanted without company. An evening when they watched the eleven o’clock news before going to bed.

Evelyn wasn’t noisy. She went to bed early, she got up early, and she didn’t expect her hosts to follow the same schedule. Unfortunately, Da-Marr didn’t exist on the same timetable. Late to bed, with the TV blaring, and not-so-early to rise. Even with the guest room door shut, as well as their own bedroom door, the sounds of sirens and explosions could still be heard. Evelyn had to wear earplugs, but it didn’t seem to bother her.

As Richard undressed for bed, he made a decision.

“We have to talk,” he said as he watched Brenda pull back the bedspread.

“Isn’t that my usual line?” she asked, warily.

“You’ve taught me well,” he said as he climbed into bed.

Brenda sat on the edge of the bed, painfully drawing her legs up one at a time, but she didn’t lie down. She sat there, her belly straining against her nightgown, looking terribly uncomfortable. “Am I a rotten person to just want this over?” she cried in frustration.

“Of course not,” he said, and reached for her hand.

“I wasn’t just talking about the pregnancy.” She sighed, tears brimming her dark brown eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s the hormones. And don’t you damn well dispute it.”

He couldn’t help but smile, but it soon soured. “Jeff is helping his reporter friend, Sam, with a story. He had a bad experience today, and — ”

Brenda plastered a hand over her eyes, and he saw her mouth tremble. “You’re right. I don’t want to hear this. Not now. I’m at my rope’s end and I just can’t take anymore.”

“Then it can wait,” Richard said and squeezed her hand.

“You must think I’m a terrible bitch — ” she began.

He laughed. “To the contrary. But man, the four of us are living in hell right now.”

“Which four?”

“You, me, Jeff, and Maggie.”

“Maggie?” she asked, her interest piqued.

“I spoke to her earlier this evening. She said she would call you, but I don’t think she will. I suspect she isn’t willing to dump her garbage on you when you aren’t in a good place.”

“Is it Lily?”

He nodded.

“Oh, dear. If I wasn’t like — ” she looked down at her belly, “ — this, I could go and be with her. But right now — ”

“You have to take care of yourself. I think she realizes that.”

“And what about Jeffy?”

Richard shook his head. “I don’t think we need to talk about him now.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to concentrate on you. On us. On our baby. Things have a way of working themselves out. Soon Evelyn and Da-Marr will go home, and then it’ll just be the five of us.”

Brenda looked at him askance. “The five of us? You make it sound like we’re a real family.

“Maybe because that’s the way I think of us.”

“Even though Maggie hurt Jeffy so bad back in May?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to judge her. I don’t even want to judge Evelyn and Da-Marr. I just want to get through this and go on to what will become our new life. And, I’m sorry, Brenda, but Evelyn and Da-Marr are not ever going to be part of our everyday lives. I think you know that, too.”

Brenda’s head drooped. “Of course I do.”

“Then … we just have to get through the next week or so. Right?”

She turned to look at him, her lips quirking into a smile. “You’re right. Damn, but you’re almost always right.”

“Only almost?”

“Nobody’s perfect,” she said.

“Come on. Turn out the light and let’s go to sleep.”

She smiled, but it was short lived. “Sorry, but, damn — I have to pee. I can’t wait until this is over and I don’t have to pee every five minutes,” she said, swung her legs over the side of the bed, eased herself off, and headed for the bathroom.

More explosions rattled the windows. Guest or not, it was simply rude to disturb the rest of the home’s residents with a blaring TV. Richard got up.

He crossed the dark hall. He could see the flickering shadows under the door from the TV. He knocked. “Da-Marr, can you turn that thing down?” he said, not shouting, but he hoped loud enough to be heard over the din. No answer. He knocked again and waited. Still no answer. He tried the door handle and it opened. He stepped inside.

The TV was on, but the room was unoccupied. There wasn’t even a wrinkle in the bedspread.

Da-Marr had said an early good night some three hours before, which was when the TV went on.

Richard switched off the set and closed the door, then hightailed it down the stairs. He could call Jeff to ask if Brenda’s car was still in the garage, but he didn’t want to disturb him, not after the day — and night before — he’d had.

He’d neglected to put on slippers when he’d left his bedroom, and all his shoes were in the walk-in closet, but he did have a pair of winter boots in the butler’s pantry. He slipped them on, unlocked the back door, and ventured onto the drive. Crossing the expanse of asphalt, he stopped at the door that led to the stairway to Jeff’s apartment. He didn’t have his keys, but he could look through the window and see into the garage. All three cars were snug in their berths for the night. Da-Marr hadn’t lifted Brenda’s keys for another joy ride.

So where the hell had he gone — and how?