Reilly 09 - Presumption of Death (17 page)

Tory pushed her hair back and scratched her head. “But if Ruthie saw that, and it wasn’t Danny, it’d have to be somebody else on this block.”

“That’s a good one,” George said. “Like who?”

“Like you,” Jolene said, and kissed him. “Maybe we should do a lineup,” she went on. “The Cat Lady might be able to pick out the bad guy.”

Tory looked around the table. Nina followed her eyes on each man: Tory’s husband first, big Darryl; George Hill, already tired out from playing a few songs, drooping a bit over his plate; broad-shouldered, compact Ben; Sam, ignoring his food and pouring himself another shot of Jack Daniel’s; Ted, talking animatedly to Britta and Megan about a hiking trip to New Zealand; and David Cowan, silent and birdlike at the far end of the table.

Hill broke the silence with a laugh. “It was probably Elizabeth,” he said.

“Please don’t hate me ’cuz I’m beautiful,” Tory said in a high voice, laughing too. She took her husband’s hand, and Nina saw Darryl wince.

Debbie said, “Hey. Watch what you say about my sister,” but in a joking voice.

Jolene said, “Aw, Debbie, it’s no reflection on you. It’s not your fault she’s got a burr up her ass.”

“She’s beautiful and smart and you’re just jealous.”

“She’s Miss Priss,” Jolene said, “but if she wants to come down the hill and slum with us regular folks, why, she’s welcome. As long as I don’t have to hear any more about keeping Robles untouched, now that she’s built her glass house.”

“Speak of the devil,” Tory said, and nudged Debbie. “Your sister’s here.”

At the gate, Nina saw a young woman in a soft gray sweater and black leggings, toting a leather purse. She waved to Debbie, who jumped up and opened the gate and hugged her, then led her, holding her hand, toward the table.

Elizabeth seemed unsure of her reception, and from what Nina had been hearing, she could understand why. But Darryl jumped up too, and went to her and Debbie with a bottle of beer in his hand. “Hey, there,” he said. “Glad you could make it.”

An awkward silence ensued. Tory was glaring after Darryl. Nina happened to glance at Ben and saw that he was glaring at Darryl too.

12

S OMETHING HAD CHANGED FOR NINA AS she ate dinner with the neighbors. Before, she had been an observer, but now she had become part of the party. It was like going to the theater and finding yourself on stage. She was involved in some sort of drama, and she didn’t know the story line yet.

Or maybe she shouldn’t have drunk that Dos Equis on top of the wine.

Elizabeth accepted the bottle. “Thanks,” she said in a low voice. “Hi, all. Sorry I’m late.” She had luminous skin and high cheekbones. She wore her shining black hair simply, in an old-fashioned straight bob with a fringe. On her the effect was ravishing.

“It takes a while to climb down from one o’ them big redwoods,” George Hill said. Jolene giggled at this.

Elizabeth went straight to Ben, sitting at the table, and put her arm around him. “I am so sorry,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m all right. Thanks for the flowers,” Ben told her.

“Come sit with us-” Darryl started, but Megan called from the other side, “We saved a spot for you.”

Smiling, Elizabeth said, “I need to say hi to Megan.” She went to the group at the far side, and Ted and Megan made room for her between them. The loud conversations resumed, but Darryl seemed to have lost interest. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the beautiful woman at the other end of the table. Tory, beside him, was seething.

Why, he’s madly in love with her, Nina thought with dismay. Four kids under the age of thirteen, a devoted wife-how could he? No question, Tory must know, because Darryl was about as subtle about it as a chain saw biting into a chunk of hardwood.

Nina hoped he and Elizabeth weren’t having an affair. She had liked Darryl, before.

Ben, too, seemed distracted by Elizabeth’s presence, although he was not as obvious. Elizabeth didn’t glance down the table again. She set her bottle of beer aside and poured herself some soy milk.

“You know what?” Tory said suddenly. “I’m going home.”

“I’m not ready,” Darryl said.

“Then stay here, damn you.” Tory got up and went into the house, followed by Jolene and Debbie. Darryl started to rise, then sat back down again.

“She gets into these moods,” he said.

Nina ate some more of Jolene’s tasty pasta. The night was young, and she had a feeling that she’d better keep her strength up.

Jolene and Debbie returned from the kitchen without Tory and the party moved into a new phase as they all started moving around again. Nina helped carry endless paper plates and dump them into trash sacks while Sam and Darryl went out into the backyard, working on something. The kids ran back into the woods.

George took up his seat on the bench, picked up his guitar, and started playing, looking now and then at Britta, who hung on the deck railing.

Green eyes and white lies

Like a fool I fell in love

An’ I’m haunted by the memory of her

Soft skin… so lost in

Dreams of those few nights together

I can’t seem to forget her

Green eyes… and white lies

“That’s your song, Sweet Lips,” he said.

Megan and Ted gathered with Elizabeth and began talking intently, and Nina, reminding herself of her mission, drifted over to listen.

“He worked on David’s Porsche a few weeks ago,” Ted was saying.

“He did all kinds of odd jobs for David and Britta,” Megan said. “Jolene got George to pay him a few bucks to clean up the Back Acre. He was immune to poison oak. I saw him back there a month or so ago, tearing up the brush, working hard. He did a good job, but he was troubled. He always looked so unhappy.”

“But he’d lost his job,” Elizabeth said. “Of course he was unhappy.” She had moved aside slightly to let Nina join the group. Standing next to her, Nina smelled the strong soap she used, something expensive and fresh.

Megan said, “No, he always had a problem. But, listen, I’m being nice about this, here’s what happened that same night. Danny was out front wrapping twine around the stuff he had pulled up, and Jolene invited him to dinner. Which would be okay, except they sat on the porch and George kept feeding him alcohol. You know some Native Americans have a big problem with that. Not to perpetuate a stereotype or anything.”

“Alcohol should be banned,” Ted said, and Elizabeth and Megan nodded. “Marijuana, there’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t make people go out and commit crimes.”

“Wine is good for you in moderation,” Elizabeth said. “That’s not alcohol in the sense you’re using it.”

“We tasted the most incredible merlot at Galante Vineyards last weekend,” Megan said. They talked about wine for a while, and Nina was about to leave when Megan suddenly returned to her earlier topic.

“Anyway, I heard Danny tell George that George was like a father to him. Danny was maudlin. And you know what that doofus George said?”

“What?”

“He said, ‘You were my kid, you wouldn’t be such a useless little loser.’ He actually said that. Danny didn’t say a word. He went up the street past our house toward home and he was crying. I saw him.”

“That’s the saddest thing I ever heard,” Elizabeth said.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Ted said.

“How’s the new place coming?” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, the permit process was terrible.” Megan turned to Nina and said, “We’re going to move up the hill from Siesta Court soon. Green River’s going to ruin this street, so we’re building up on the mountain, about a quarter mile from Elizabeth. And it’s getting too… too… oh, you know, all the locals down here. God, the jokes tonight. I mean, get some wit.” Ted and Elizabeth laughed.

“We had such a scare,” Megan went on. “The fire on the ridge came within a hundred feet of our construction site, and we had just got the framing completed. Ted has spent every spare second up there for months. When we found out the next morning-Ted had a fit.”

“Oh, look, they’re building a bonfire,” Nina said. Just below the deck, in a clearing circled by stones, Darryl and Sam had just finished constructing a huge pile of dead wood. While the others watched, they set fire to it in several places.

“They always have a bonfire,” Elizabeth said. “It’s illegal, I think, but they don’t care. They grew up with the local cops.”

“Oh, my God, Nina,” Megan said. “Look over there. You better go protect Ben.”

“Britta keeps trying,” Ted said. “Ben’s never been interested.”

Megan lowered her voice. “I don’t know how David puts up with it. I mean, Britta and Sam last year. Debbie was so upset when she found out. Sam promised her, never again, and she stayed with him.”

Nina saw that Ben had picked up a couple of plastic chairs to bring down to the fire, but Britta had moved in on him.

As the evening progressed and Britta got drunker her eyes had taken on the wet insatiable look of a dog in heat. Ben kept his head down in defense mode. Britta worried him like one of Ruthie’s cats worrying a rat. She eyed him across the deck. She oozed close to him. His face reddened as she whispered in his ear. Then she turned, but just as he began to relax she would go at him again.

Finally she landed right in his face, saying something again, tongue flicking, plump lips moist and open. Ben must have had enough. He raised his hand and put it on her chin and gently but definitely pushed her away. She swayed in one place for a few seconds, shrugged, gave him the finger, staggered off, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one to steady herself.

The other neighborhood women watched her faltering progress along the deck without comment, her eyes speckled yellow from the porch light.

The men had not noticed what had just happened. Except for Ben, who had gone into the house, they were lounging together across from the fire, hidden in moon shadows. Bursts of talk and exclamations flew into the air like hails of bullets.

“A toast!” David Cowan said from down there. The men punched their cans into the air. Britta approached the men. “What’re you guys talking about, hmm?” she asked.

“Danny,” Sam said. “We’re toasting Danny.” Britta’s hips swiveled his way, drawn like a magnet to a Frigidaire. She sailed down the stairs toward the fire.

Nina picked up her chair and started down the stairs behind her. She passed Debbie, who looked worried.

A rough circle of chairs grew up around the fire, as most of the neighbors drifted down from the deck and sat near the warmth. Nina sat down beside Ben, who had reappeared.

“Figuring anything out?” he said.

“Having a great time,” she answered.

George and Jolene sat down beside her, saying to the others, “Debbie’s all tired out. She’s gone inside and said good night to y’all.”

Across the fire, David Cowan, Sam, and Darryl had set up their chairs. Ted joined Megan and they pulled up chairs on Nina’s other side.

Illegal or not, Nina loved the big fire blazing up. It reminded her of the old days on the beach at Carmel when they still allowed fires at the foot of Ocean Avenue. But Darryl and Sam had settled back and she was wondering who was going to tend it in the liquor-soaked post-dinner hour.

Darryl’s eyes followed Elizabeth as she moved around the circle. Suddenly he got up and followed her and said something to her.

She shook her head and he took her arm. Nina heard him say “Please.” The woman shook him off and came over to sit by Megan. Nina noticed she no longer wore the soft purse over her shoulder.

“Here,” Ted said, “I brought something for the good guys.” He passed a silver flask to Elizabeth, who tipped it back sharply, like she needed a shot. Her face flushed and she said, “I understand Courvoisier is good for the heart also.”

“Absolutely,” Ted said. “Was Darryl bothering you?”

“He’s harmless.”

“He thinks he’s in love with you,” Megan said with a laugh.

“I like Tory,” Elizabeth said. “She’s dedicated to him and their family. I honor that.” They all were silent for a few minutes, and then Ted and Megan started talking with each other about their construction contractor.

Elizabeth turned to Nina and said, her head close to Nina’s so no one else could hear, “So you and Ben went to high school together?”

“Uh huh.”

“Nina Balzac, huh?”

“That’s right,” Nina said. Elizabeth’s gray eyes had a steady insistence.

“The French writer,” she said.

“I heard there was one.”

“Oh, yes. There certainly is. I did a paper on him at Stanford. Honoré de Balzac. Alas. He was not at all Hungarian.” She crossed her legs. “His family came from the South of France. His name came from the Latin
Balteanus
.”

“You’re making that part up for sure,” Nina said.

“I remember because of the anus part. I thought it was funny. When you’re eighteen stuff like that is funny.”

“Well, my grandfather’s family came from Budapest.”

Elizabeth looked down. “Your shoes betray you,” she said with a blinding smile. Nina looked down at her new shoes, which had seemed quite innocuous when she put them on.

“Børn shoes,” Elizabeth went on. “Hand-sewn in European style. You don’t belong in this crowd any more than I do. And you seriously don’t belong with Ben.”

“Because I wear expensive shoes?”

Elizabeth laughed slightly. “Well, let’s just say, it tells me a lot more about you than you intended to tell. Are you a Fed? Is this about the fires?”

“Whatever.” It was all Nina could manage.

“I’d like to get your phone number and talk to you some more.”

“Sure,” she said. She dredged a scrap of paper from her purse and wrote it down.

Just then Britta came down the stairs, holding tightly to the railing.

“She’s got my purse,” Elizabeth said in a voice that was stricken with sudden anxiety.

Britta picked her way around the fire. When she came to Elizabeth, Elizabeth stood up and said, “Give me that.”

Britta smiled and whispered at the woman, putting her arm around her so Elizabeth had to stoop. Elizabeth listened and laughed desperately, as if trying to ingratiate her way free.