Mudlark (32 page)

"But--"

"But what if something had gone wrong?" Her chin went up. "Melanie wouldn't have been worse off
with me there to hold her hand than if she'd been alone with that...that dominant baboon."

I remembered my own dithering, my own fright. "At least you were capable of thinking."

Bonnie's frown eased. "There you were, Lark, Miss Honesty, explaining to a man with a gun that you
couldn't do what he was ordering you to do. If somebody points a gun at me and tells me I'm President of Mexico, I
start talking Spanish fast. I thought if we were useless to Kevin he wouldn't have any reason to let us live. So I
lied."

The cheerful shouts of the paramedics packing their gear punctuated our silence.

I said, "You had me convinced you were midwife of the year."

Tom smiled. "Me too."

Clara said, "You deserve a medal."

Bonnie shook her head. "Melanie deserves a medal. And I meant what I said to Kevin. He is not going to
get hold of that little boy and turn him into a monster. I won't let it happen."

Tom's eyebrows rose. "Won't Melanie have something to say about that?"

Clara lit a cigarette. "Some women are damned fools."

I said, "I think she'll listen to Bonnie."

The senior Fire Department medic strode up. "You folks ready to leave?"

Tom picked up the waders. "I'll help you haul your gear to the raft, Myron." They were using a rubber
dinghy to ferry things to the launch. "The ladies can ride with you. I'm going to retrieve my boat from the oyster
bed."

"We can buzz you around the point," the man offered.

Tom shook his head. "I want to walk."

"Okey-dokey. Tide's almost in, though. What's that?"

"Clams," Bonnie said. "We're taking them with us."

"Put them in clean water overnight with a little cornmeal." Clara was ready to tell us how to clean them,
too, but that was more than I wanted to know about clams.

I drove Bonnie and the clams home from the dock. Clara had driven her own car.

Bonnie said she wanted a shower and a nap. That was about all she said. I had turned inward too. I
pulled into our driveway and popped the trunk.

"Call me if Jay finds out anything interesting." Bonnie took her bucket of clams and trudged across the
street.

Anything about the murder, she meant. I gave an assenting wave and hauled my own bucket out of the
trunk. I left it in the garage.

I stood in the steaming water of the shower until I turned bright pink, and I barely had the energy to
towel dry. I yanked a long T shirt over my damp hair and fell into bed. I slept without dreaming for almost two
hours.

"Lark--"

I came awake with my heart hammering.

"Sweetheart, you have got to come down and take charge of the kitchen."

"You're back." I opened one eye. "I refuse to cook."

Jay sat on the bed and gave me a bear hug. "Believe me, that's not the problem."

The problem was that the local radio station had broken the story. Our neighbors, most of whom Jay
had never met, were bringing food. That was their response, once their sympathies had been engaged, to death,
sickness, unemployment, flood, hurricane, earthquake, and, apparently, to amateur midwifery while being held
hostage on an uninhabited island. They couldn't reach Melanie, so they were showering Bonnie and me with home
cooking.

I got up, groaning because my shoulders had begun to stiffen, and dressed.

Bonnie had taken refuge in the breakfast nook. Her tiny house was under siege. She swore she had two
tuna casseroles, a salmon loaf, a Jell-O salad with grated carrots and raisins, and a peach pie sitting in her
refrigerator. She had showered and slept a mere half hour before the doorbell started ringing.

I said soothing words and tried to sort out the pie tins and casserole dishes on my counter. One nine by
five dish contained something brown topped with very orange cheese, possibly Velveeta. I wished Freddy was
home to test it.

Bonnie was worrying over the problem of Melanie and the baby. Something had to be done. I agreed.
The back door banged and Tom came in, still in his boots and rain jacket. He'd lost the Band Aid and the cut had
scabbed. He was carrying a pie. He thrust it at me.

"Ruth Adams gave me this as I was walking up from the house. She says it's for Bonnie. Oh, hi, Bonnie. I
didn't see you."

"Hi."

"Huckleberry?" I asked.

He grinned. "Looks like it."

Jay said, "I'm sorry, Bonnie, you can't have that pie."

She smiled absently. "Why do they do it? All that energy. They should be feeding starving children in
Africa. Do you have any idea how long it will take me to eat a whole tuna casserole?"

Jay laughed. "Feed it to Gibson."

"I will--" Bonnie's eyes narrowed behind the mended glasses. The bruise stood out in bold relief on her
cheek. "All that energy...hey, you guys, why don't I take up a collection?"

"For Melanie?" Tom had returned from his bedroom sans jacket. He sat on the stool by the door and
yanked off his boots, tossing them into the back hall. He was wearing gray wool socks. He padded to the counter
and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I expect the Fire Department has already set up a fund. Let's hope it doesn't all
go for Kevin's defense."

Bonnie was fumbling for the telephone pad. "I want to collect enough to send her to Arizona."

Jay handed her a pencil. "Why Arizona?"

"My parents live there. Melanie should take the children as far away from Kevin as she can. Mom could
help her find an apartment, maybe even a job." She began scribbling. "New clothes for job hunting, clothes for the
kids, a decent car, and a deposit for the apartment--"

"Daycare," I chimed in.

"A divorce," Tom said.

Bonnie looked at him. "That's number one. All of that will take money. I'm going to hit up all these nice
people--"

"Be sure to return the pie tins when you do." Tom sipped his coffee.

"The pie tins are my passport. I'll take them back and make my pitch face to face." Bonnie beamed. "I
feel much better. Now all I have to do is persuade Melanie that her future lies in sunny Arizona."

The doorbell rang.

Jay answered it this time and returned after a few minutes with Clara and a covered stoneware
casserole. Clara was carrying a loaf of her bread.

"Dinner!" she announced. "I came to rescue you from the tuna brigade. Tom, poke it in the microwave.
That is my special emergency dinner. Cassoulet, every morsel a gourmet triumph. I am going to feed you, and Jay is
going to tell us all about Kevin's confession."

We looked at Jay.

He tugged at his mustache. "I suppose the sheriff made an announcement."

"'An arrest is imminent--'" Clara quoted.

Jay said, "Nelson had already arrested a guy named Wally Baldock before Johnson started talking."

Tom sipped his coffee. "There goes the plea bargain."

"Johnson will do time," Jay agreed.

I scrunched forward on the couch. "Both men confessed? Tell us what they said."

"Yeah, well, let me call Dale first."

Clara gave him a push in the direction of the telephone. "So call. Lark, Bonnie, we need plates and
flatware. Tom, a salad. Dinner in fifteen minutes."

It took Jay that long to get through to the sheriff's office. The doorbell rang once--something with
marshmallows. We organized a buffet while Jay talked, and Clara made Tom start a fire in the living room. She also
unearthed a bottle of chardonnay that had survived Labor Day. We brought our steaming bowls of the stew in by
the fire.

"Right." Clara took a gulp of wine. Jay sidled in with his bowl, looking wary. "Tell us who hired Kevin
Johnson."

"Bob McKay." Bonnie tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it in the cassoulet, which was worthy of the
bread.

Jay propped his shoulders against the mantel and tested the stew. The doorbell rang.

"No," I heard him say as I jumped up. "It was Annie."

I raced to the door and yanked it open.

Bob McKay and his son stood on the porch.

I blinked at them. "What--"

Bob cleared his throat. "May I speak to your husband? It's urgent."

I hesitated. "We have company."

"Please."

I flashed on Donald Hagen. "You're not armed, are you?" The evidence of Hagen's foray still decorated
the hall ceiling.

Bob turned redder, and Rob said, "Gosh, no. We just need to talk to Mr. Dodge. It's about Mom."

I stood back, and they entered.

I realized I could well be ushering a murderer into my living room. Was Bob going to confess to Jay? I
wasn't afraid of Bob, not with his son beside him, but the situation was, oddly enough, embarrassing.

As we reached the archway into the living room, everyone looked at us. Jay set his bowl on the mantel
and took a step forward.

Bob said, "You've got to help me. She's going to say I killed Cleo, and I didn't. I swear it."

Clara pulled her feet out of the way hastily as Jay skirted the coffee table. Her eyes were bright with
curiosity. I felt a little curious myself.

Jay said, "You shouldn't be talking in front of witnesses, Colonel McKay. You need a lawyer."

"Goddamn." Bob's voice broke. "I don't want a lawyer. And I want witnesses." He seemed to take in the
others' presence. "Clara. Tom. Ms. Er."

"Bell," Bonnie supplied. She goggled at him through the mended glasses.

"You've got to tell us what to do." Rob McKay's voice rose. "Please, tell me what to do."

Tell me who to believe? I think that was what he meant, yet there he stood beside his father.

"I did not kill Cleo," Bob repeated. "I loved Cleo," He began to weep. "God, I'm so confused."

When a woman cries she can forgive herself. When a man weeps, by golly, people go into emergency
mode. We had Bob sitting on the couch with a cup of hot coffee and a box of Kleenex from the kitchen before you
could say Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Clara, Tom, and Bonnie stayed behind in the kitchen--to give Bob privacy, I suppose. I had no such
delicate scruples. I took him the coffee and the Kleenex and planted myself on Granny's rocker.

Rob was sitting beside his father, patting Bob's shoulder and saying "There, there".

I avoided Jay's eyes. I thought he'd want me to leave and I had no intention of leaving.

Bob blew his nose. "I'm sorry. It's been a hellish two weeks. You have to tell me what to do, Dodge. Dale
Nelson arrested Annie for hiring those thugs to burn Tom's house. I called our lawyers right away, of course, but
Nelson took her in anyway and booked her. Then I got to thinking."

"About your alibi?" Jay sat on the edge of the coffee table. Fortunately, it was solid teak and bore up
under his weight. He was looking Bob right in the face.

I leaned forward, and the chair creaked.

Bob mopped his eyes. "I left them on the beach, you know."

"Cleo and Annie?" Jay sounded cautious.

Bob nodded. "I remember that much. I walked back to the construction site and drove the Mercedes
home. Then I started to drink. I don't remember anything more until the next morning. Annie had already left for
the
Gazette
office by the time I got up. When I heard about Cleo's death on the radio that afternoon, I called
Annie. She wouldn't talk over the telephone. I was having a hard time taking it in. Cleo's death, I mean."

Jay said, with care, "You were in love with Cleo Hagen?"

"I was going to propose to her. That was why we went down to the beach. We were walking along, and I
was explaining that I'd ask Annie for a divorce."

Rob McKay drew a sharp breath.

Bob looked at him. "Try to understand. Your mother and I, we have...had an agreement. We wouldn't
interfere with each other."

"She wouldn't interfere with you, you mean." Rob's voice was cold and his face stony. He wasn't going
to break down. And he hadn't decided whose side he was on yet, either.

Bob's eyes dropped. He twisted the damp Kleenex. "Annie isn't very interested in sex. I don't think she
enjoys it much, never did after Rob was born. So I took my satisfaction elsewhere. She didn't want a divorce and
neither did I--then. Too complicated."

I stared at the man. Between the McKays and the Hagens, I was getting an education about the
institution of marriage.

Bob drew a breath. "But Cleo was different. She was so beautiful, so much fun. I felt alive when I was
with her. Her marriage was just an arrangement. I knew that. She needed a real marriage to a real man."

Real man. As far as I was concerned, Donald Hagen was a little too real.

Jay said, "When did you tell her all that, the night of the murder?"

Bob nodded. "The night she died." He blew his nose again. "She was laughing, teasing me, and we
walked along the beach, almost to the
Mollie McKay
. We were holding hands. I felt about sixteen, and I
wanted her so bad I hurt. I remember that. I had a real hard-on." He glanced at me and, I swear it, blushed. "That
was when Annie drove up in the Blazer."

Jay frowned as if he were trying to visualize the scene. "Didn't you see her lights?"

Bob shook his head. "No lights. She drove right up beside us with the lights off. She jumped out. You
have to understand, Annie and I had an agreement."

"Not to interfere with each other's affairs. I see. So you were surprised."

"It knocked me for a loop. I didn't know what to say."

"What happened then?"

He took a distracted sip of the coffee and set the cup back on the end table. His hands trembled. "They
started talking. Cleo thought it was funny. Annie said terrible things, how she'd never give me a divorce, and so on,
but she never raised her voice. Not once. Cleo got bored, I guess. Maybe she was cold. It was a cool evening. She
said something like what's the big deal, it's just an affair.

"That got to me. I said I was serious. I wanted a divorce, wanted to marry her, Cleo, I mean. Then she
looked at me and laughed. She said she was already married and intended to stay married."