Hollyhock Ridge (8 page)

“I’m choosing to believe her.”

“And what about the kid? What about afterward?”

“We haven’t discussed that yet.”

“Hadn’t you better?”

“I just found out yesterday, Claire. Today she’s working.
I’m sure we’ll iron out all the details as we have time to do so.”

Claire’s head still hurt and she was the grouchiest she’d
felt in a long time.

“All right,” she said. “Consider me informed.”

“The timing could not be worse as far as you and I are
concerned.”

“We’re just friends,” Claire said. “Besides, you’re married
to her.”

“I heard you got a little drunk last night.”

“Ix-nay on the ossip-gay,” Claire said. “If we are to remain
friends, we must agree never to speak of last night.”

“Fair enough,” Ed said. “I guess you heard about Diedre
Delvecchio.”

“I heard Marigold’s virtually accused Kay of murder.”

“She better be careful,” Ed said. “That could backfire on
her.”

“Do you know anything about hoarding?”

“No,” Ed said. “I’ve never been in their house, but I hear
it’s bad.”

After Ed left, Claire sent an email to a makeup artist who
worked for one of the morning news shows in New York. Claire had helped her get
started in the business so the woman owed her a favor. What Claire wanted was
information, and she was pretty sure this woman could get it for her.

After that she did some Internet research on hoarding. She
also remembered what Pudge Postlethwaite had said about Diedre going to yard
sales and flea markets. She made some notes in case she ran into Laurie later.
Not that she planned to. But he might stop by. He would probably come around
later, and tease her about the previous night. It would be embarrassing, and
she’d have to put a stop to it.

But he didn’t.

At lunchtime Claire walked up to the city building, and
glanced oh so casually into the police station as she passed it, but she didn’t
see Laurie. Kay was in her office, but Laurie was not visiting.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Kay said.

Claire got Kay caught up on the events of the previous
evening.

“My Lord,” Kay said. “Your life is like a soap opera.”

“I know, right?”

“What are you going to do about Laurie?”

“Not a blessed thing,” Claire said. “I need to stop worrying
about romance and start focusing on my life.”

“But you are attracted to him.”

“Laurie’s a mess right now. He would just be the next in my
long line of terrible romantic mistakes. Remember, I am very firmly taking
myself by the hand and walking away from the man.”

“Only when sober, apparently.”

“I want my life to be able to pass the Bechdel test.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s this really talented cartoonist named Alison
Bechdel. One of the characters in her comic strip says she only goes to see
films where two female characters talk to each other about something other than
some man. That’s the Bechdel test,” Claire said. “I want there to be more
important things in my life than worrying about romance.”

“Relationships are important,” Kay said. “It would be a sad,
lonely world if no one cared about romance.”

“What about work? What about doing something meaningful for
other people? I’ve led a selfish, self-indulgent life up to now, and I’m
ashamed of myself. There has to be something more worthwhile I could spend my
time doing.”

“If you’re serious, I can probably find you something
meaningful to do,” Kay said. “Just remember it’s not healthy to make work your
only reason for living. You’re liable to end up a lonely old lady.”

“I do get lonely, and I do miss the affection, certainly the
sex, but dammit, I’m tired of worrying about it all the time. It’s mentally and
emotionally exhausting, and I’m tired of being disappointed.”

“I blame Pip,” Kay said. “He soured you on relationships, I
think.”

“That was my fault for trying to turn a bad dating accident
into a marriage. If it hadn’t been me it would have been the next random teenage
girl with low self-esteem and poor decision making skills. Pip just needs to be
with somebody, anybody. He’s a master at acting helpless, which is just the
good-looking version of bone-idle-lazy. Women love to rescue Pip, and he can be
very obliging when he wants to be.”

“Haven’t you ever dated someone you thought could be the
one?”

“I fell for a struggling actor once, and then proceeded to
fall for every line he fed me. It was spellbinding the way that panty-dropper
could manipulate me; all he had to do was smile and I’d reach for my credit
card. He was a master of the big romantic gestures. I finally had to physically
remove myself from his zip code because he was such heroin to my romance
addiction.”

“Good for you for rescuing yourself.”

“Oh no, out of the frying pan into the fire, that’s my
motto. Next there was this Indy film director I called ‘the pale poet.’ His
emotional development was arrested in high school. Being a director finally
gave him power over the cheerleaders.”

“What about the Scottish actor? What was his name?’

“Carlysle was a drama teacher; Maggie says that one’s my
fault for ignoring the accuracy of his position description. He was funny and
clever and had the sexiest accent. He laughed me right into bed. Turns out, he
was more ambitious than in love; come to think of it, they all were.”

“Which is the opposite of Pip.”

“You’re right; I never thought of it that way.”

“Ed’s a good person in a bad situation.”

“Ed doesn’t even know me, and I think when he finally does
he won’t be so interested. Plus, he has his hands full now with Eve and the
baby. They have history and she’s vulnerable right now in an attractive way.
He’s trying to save her, I think.”

“You think it’s his?”

“I don’t know,” Claire said. “But I do know some people that
work in her world who will find out.”

“What if you found out it wasn’t?” Kay asked. “Would you
tell him?”

“No,” said Claire. “I’d find some way to make her tell him.”

“Be careful,” Kay said.

“Hey,” Claire said. “There’s some scurrilous gossip going
around about you concerning Diedre’s disappearance.”

“Ruthie called me last night,” Kay said. “There’s nothing I
can do about it.”

“We could find her,” Claire said. “Or find out what happened
to her.”

“How?”

“Pudge said Diedre liked to shop yard sales and flea markets.
Let’s look at what ones were advertised the other morning when you saw her.
Then we can ask those people if she was there. Maybe we can find out where she
went and who saw her last.”

“I’ve got this week’s papers here in the recycling,” Kay
said. “But I can’t go around asking about Diedre. Think of how that would
look.”

“But I can,” Claire said.

Claire was walking back down Rose Hill Avenue, and had just
crossed Peony Street, when she smelled a familiar Pip-like smell. A van with a
Colorado license plate was parked out in front of the Rose and Thorn. The back
end was covered in bumper stickers urging the legalization of marijuana and
memorializing Bob Marley. There were also multiple, blue marijuana-leaf-shaped
stickers with the words “Smoked Grass” on them. The windows of the van were
partially down and smoke was rolling out as thick as if the interior were on
fire.

Laurie was standing outside the Thorn, leaning back against
the brick façade next to the entryway.

“Who are they?” she asked, gesturing toward the van.

“Tonight’s entertainment, I gather,” he said. “According to
your cousin Patrick, they are a bluegrass ska fusion band.”

“Lemme guess,” she said. “Smoked Grass.”

“Uh huh,” he said.

“Are you going to arrest them?”

“I haven’t decided,” Laurie said. “On the one hand they
aren’t actually harming anyone but themselves, they aren’t driving under the
influence, they aren’t selling it, and they are technically partaking inside
their own private property.”

“But …”

“It’s still illegal in this state,” Laurie said. “If they
were knocking back beers I could arrest them for having open containers, but I
probably wouldn’t as long as they didn’t then attempt to drive. It’s not for me
to decide what’s legal, because the law is clear, but the real question is why
do I even care?”

“My father often said it’s not always black and white.”

“I’ve been in charge here for three weeks and so far I
haven’t arrested anyone,” Laurie said. “I’ve only got a few more days to go.
The real questions are do I want to inconvenience these young people, deprive
the Thorn of its musical entertainment, and then do paperwork all afternoon?”

“What can I do to help?”

“You could politely point out the proximity of law
enforcement, and encourage them to extinguish their potent potables.”

Claire walked around to the driver’s side of the van and
greeted the dread-locked occupant. He smiled a stoned grin as he lowered the
window the rest of the way down. His eyes were red and glassy. Before he even
spoke he offered her a hit off the water pipe he was holding.

“No thanks,” Claire said, and then coughed.

“What’s shaking, Mamacita?”

“I just wanted to warn you that there’s a policeman nearby,”
she said. “You might want to stop smoking that right here on the main drag.”

Mr. Dreadlocks reached over to the dashboard and then handed
Claire a card that proclaimed he was legally prescribed medical marijuana.

“You all have these?” she asked.

He nodded, waggled his eyebrows, and then winked.

“Carry on, then,” she said. “Godspeed.”

The occupants of the van all giggled like schoolboys as she
walked back around to where Laurie was standing. She reported her discovery.

Laurie shook his head.

“I had more respect for them before I knew that,” he said.
“Now I want to hassle them just for being so crafty.”

“You’re a strange man,” Claire said.

“I’m also a gentleman,” he said. “But then, you already knew
that.”

“I know you are,” she said, “and a gracious host.”

“It will be our secret,” Laurie said. “Just two ships that
got drunk, took off their clothes, and passed out in the night. Well,
technically your ship was the one that got drunk, naked, and then passed out. I
was more like the lonely lighthouse of frustration.”

“It’s complicated,” she said.

“Not at all; it’s quite simple,” he said. “Soon I’ll be off
to woo the beautiful daughters of the former police chiefs of Pendleton. I only
hope they are half as charming and entertaining as you are.”

“See, when you talk like that I begin to question my
resolve.”

“Have dinner with me this evening. We will soberly explore ways
to remove the remaining barriers to the fulfillment of your deepest desires.”

“I’m kinda sorta committed to an evening of watching
television with my dad,” she said. “I feel bad about abandoning him last
night.”

“How can I argue with that?”

“Thanks for the offer.”

“It stands,” he said. “Keep that in mind if anything
changes.”

“I will.”

“It’s not that far to Pendleton.”

“I know.”

“Ah, fair Claire, just when I thought it was impossible to
break such small pieces as remained of my heart,” he said.

“Bye, Laurie,” she said.

“I am taking myself firmly by the hand,” she quietly said to
herself as she walked away. “I am walking away from trouble.”

“There’s a full moon this week,” he called after her. “I’ll
be thinking of you.”

As Claire walked past the tea room, a movement inside caught
her eye. She looked in but didn’t see anyone, and the “Closed” sign was still
on the door. She decided it must have been a reflection in the window from a
car driving past.

Back at Sean’s office, Pip was not waiting to be let in.
Claire wondered if he had skipped out on this job, as he had so many others.

When the phone rang, Claire answered it, “Fitzpatrick Family
Law office.”

“Fancy,” her cousin Hannah said. “I’ll be sure and tell Sean
you showed up for work.”

“Hey, how’s the beach?”

“Wonderful,” Hannah said. “I’d be happy to stay here and
never come back.”

“Your husband might not like that.”

“It might do him good to miss us a little,” Hannah said.
“Right now he’s probably basking in the lack of Sammy-related chaos.”

“What about your campaign for City Council?”

“That’s a lock,” Hannah said. “I’m kind of a super hero in Rose
Hill, you know; the Masked Muttcatcher, fighting the forces of evil and
rescuing kittens from telephone poles.”

“Your posters are funny.”

“My computer genius husband helped me do that,” she said.
“He thinks it’s hilarious that I might actually be elected to help govern our bug-sized
burg.”

“You’ve got my vote,” Claire said. “How’s everybody?”

“The old men are fishing, the old ladies are shopping at the
outlet mall, and Sammy’s out here on the beach with me, feeding popcorn to
seagulls,” she said. “Maggie, that lily-white, freckled freak, is lubed up in
SPF ten thousand, hiding out with a book on the condo balcony.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“We heard Diedre disappeared. What’s up with that?”

Claire told her all she knew.

“You need to get on that,” Hannah said. “Find out where she
went and who she talked to.”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Listen, you amateur, me and Maggie would’ve cracked this
case by now. Get up off your ass and investigate ... what? No, Sammy, that was
not swearing; your Aunt Claire is riding a donkey ... I don’t know its name;
Claire, what’s your donkey’s name? She says its name is Baron Von Stinkle …. Yes,
you can ride it when we get home, but only if you take a bath first. Lord, save
me from my son, the swearing police. Listen, Claire. Go see Diedre’s sister at
the post office. They hate each other but I bet Sadie knows something. She
hears everything down there.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on it,” Claire said. “You can’t
see it but I’m saluting.”

“As you should,” Hannah said. “Get a picture of that crazy
nut and show it to people, ask questions, be nosy. Geez, do I have to tell you
how to be a Fitzpatrick?”

“I’m on it,” Claire said. “Tell Maggie I won’t let you guys
down.”

From the Pendleton paper website, Claire printed the photo
of Diedre that Ed had submitted along with the article about her disappearance.
Along with that, she took the directions and the list of yard sales from that
day’s newspaper, and set off to investigate Diedre’s disappearance.

Claire first stopped at the post office, where Diedre’s
sister, Sadie, worked.

“I was so sorry to hear about Diedre,” Claire said. “You
must be worried sick.”

“My sister and I are not close,” Sadie said. “She couldn’t
be bothered to help out when my husband got home from having open heart surgery
and I still had to work full-time. I had to hire nurses to come sit with him
while she sat on her bony ass in that filthy house of hers.”

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said. “Do you have any idea where she
might have gone?”

“Not a clue,” Sadie said. “She only leaves home long enough
to work at the hardware store a couple afternoons a week, or to hit every yard
sale in the tri-state area.”

“Well, I hope she comes home soon so everyone can breathe
easy.”

“She’s my sister, I mean, I don’t want anything bad to
happen to her,” Sadie said. “I just can’t afford to take time off from work to
look for her.”

Claire went to the flea market site out near the highway,
found it closed, and then visited the three home addresses mentioned in the
classifieds. No one recognized the photo until she came to the last address,
out on Hollyhock Ridge. A large rental moving van was parked outside, and a
harried-looking man and woman were loading their belongings into it. The woman
gave Claire a list of what she had sold to Diedre, and described her station
wagon.

“Her car was packed so full she had to put the treadle
sewing machine on top. My husband helped her put it on the roof rack,” she
said. “She would have needed someone to help her unload it.”

Claire drove back down Hollyhock Ridge, wondering what could
have happened to Diedre between there and Rose Hill. Could she have missed a
curve and gone over the hill at some point? Claire paid attention, but didn’t
notice any guardrails missing or broken. After she got back to town and dropped
the car off at home, she called Laurie and left a voicemail with what she’d
found out, along with the woman’s name and phone number.

Back at Sean’s office, she could see Pip waiting outside.

“You need to give me a key,” he said.

“Not gonna happen,” she said.

Claire sat back down at her desk in Sean’s office and looked
longingly through the window to outside, where the sun was shining in a
cloudless blue sky.

She considered looking at clothes online, but reminded
herself she was supposed to be conserving money and not spending it, at least
until she had a new job. She went to one of her favorite celebrity gossip sites,
where she was immediately assaulted with a photo of her ex-employer frolicking
on a beach in an exotic locale, along with Claire’s ex-boyfriend, Carlysle.
Claire quickly clicked off the site and exited the Internet.

Her head still ached, not only from the death-grip of her
lingering hangover, but from hearing Pip bang away with a hammer in Sean’s
office, where he was installing built-in book cases.

Her phone trilled that she had a text message, and it was
from her make-up artist friend. It was just as Claire suspected; Eve was
rumored to have had an affair with a married senator. The pregnancy wasn’t
mentioned, but Eve had probably been able to hide it up until recently.

There was no doubt in Claire’s mind that Eve needed Ed to be
the father in order to cover up that affair. Eve must have known about the
pregnancy before she arranged to meet with Ed in Atlanta. Claire didn’t know
anything about being pregnant, but she knew quite a bit about actresses faking
pregnancies. Eve looked further along than four months. Too bad her mother was
in Myrtle Beach; Claire would like to have a former nurse and mother look at
Eve and give her opinion about how far along she actually was.

Now, how to get Eve to confess this to Ed?

She needed some serious think time.

Claire went to the front door and used a piece of scrap wood
to wedge it open. Fresh air whirled through the open doorway and stirred the
papers on the desk. Claire breathed in deeply and made an executive decision.

Ten minutes later she was sitting right outside the office
at a small table she had carried out there, with Sean’s cordless office phone
and an iced coffee from Little Bear Books. She gathered her hair up into a
messy knot and shed the cardigan she wore over her sleeveless top, the better
to feel the delicious breeze on her bare arms and neck. She closed her eyes
behind her sunglasses, in preparation to have a good, long think.

A little while later, she heard a noise, and when she opened
her eyes, Ed was standing there.

“Working hard?” he asked her.

Claire showed him the stack of Sean’s business cards on the
table, weighted down with a rock. She offered him one, which he declined.

“Public relations, huh?”

“Mm hmm,” she replied.

“It looks more like basking in the sunshine,” he said. “Mind
if I join you?”

Claire gestured with her hand to show that he was welcome.
Ed went inside, carried out a chair, and sat down across from her.

The banging in the back of the office stopped, and then the
whine of a circular saw could be heard.

 “That Pip?” he asked.

“The one and only,” she replied.

“I was so caught up in my own drama this morning I forgot to
ask, how are you?”

“At loose ends,” she said. “I haven’t been offered the Eldridge
job, and this is only temporary until Sean comes back from the beach and hires someone
permanent.”

“Melissa took secretarial training in prison,” he said.
“She’d probably appreciate the opportunity.”

“We talked about that,” Claire said. “We all love Melissa
but here’s the thing: he’s concerned about her grammar, which is atrocious, and
he’s not sure how his clients would feel about her being an ex-con. She could
work on the grammar, but the federal record is not going to go away.”

“Valid concerns,” Ed said. “I wish it wasn’t that way, but
here we are.”

“Let me tell you what I did all day yesterday,” she said. “I
had Cameron Crowe’s website open on one tab, where I could read his interviews
with seventies rock stars, and I had a video website open on another tab, so I
could watch performances of the music they talked about in the interviews.”