The Double Wedding Ring (5 page)

“L
ousy job for cold weather,” I said as I approached Greg, who was writing the license plate onto the ticket.

“Sure is.” The annoyance in his voice was obvious. “It's not my idea.”

“You know Jesse is just upset about his friend,” I said. “I saw that he was a little rough on you. . . .”

Greg leaned his lanky frame against the hood of the car. “I get that.” His tone softened, more hurt and concern than annoyance. “I wish I could help. I've been taking a couple of criminology classes in Peekskill. I've learned a lot about forensics, profiling, even how to run my own sheriff's department. I don't think Jesse realizes what I can do.”

“He does, Greg. He knows you're the town's best detective.”

He smiled a little and rolled his eyes. He was the town's only detective, but that didn't diminish his talents. “Lot of good it does me. I barely got a chance to look at the body, let alone investigate.”

“Well, you know that he died from a bullet to the head.” I tried to sound encouraging.

“That's all we have,” Greg said, “plus the fact that he was driving a rental car he picked up in Tarrytown yesterday morning.”

“Tarrytown? I thought he lived in New York City.”

“He did. Queens to be specific. And he owned a car. And yet he went to Grand Central Terminal, bought a ticket to Tarrytown on the nine forty-five a.m. train, and then when he got there, he walked to a car rental place, rented that SUV, and drove the rest of the way up here.”

“If he was going to take the train, why not take it all the way to Archers Rest?” It took more than three hours from the city, but there were two trains a day that stopped at our little station.

Greg shrugged. “Wish I knew. If Roger was hiding from someone, he didn't exactly try very hard. He used his own credit card to buy the ticket and rent the car.”

“It sounds like you're making progress. So why are you giving out parking tickets instead of working on the murder?”

“Ask the chief. He told me to ticket this car.”

“This car specifically?”

“Yeah, he said it was a danger to anyone turning the corner.”

The car was a late-model dark blue sedan, the sort of car I'd drive if I didn't want anyone to notice me. I didn't recognize it from anyone in town, but Archers Rest was just large enough that it was impossible to know everyone. “Why didn't he write the ticket himself?”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Nell, you're dating the guy. If you haven't figured him out yet, then I can't help you.”

I knew what he meant. When Jesse was upset and didn't want to talk about it, he tended to focus on the smallest of details. I guess because that was all he felt he could control.

“But there are other officers on the force. . . .” I started.

“I somehow got on his bad side. I don't know how. All I tried to do was explain a little about a new technique to re-create crime timelines.” Greg put the ticket under the windshield wiper blade of the offending car, and flipped his ticket book closed. “He's been weird since it happened. I found a card in the dead guy's pocket and was putting it into evidence and Jesse told me not to. But that's procedure. I told him, and he got mad at me about it.”

“Maybe it wasn't relevant.”

“Everything's relevant this early in the investigation. That was one of the first things Jesse taught me after I became a detective.”

“Do you remember what the card said?”

“It was a business card. C. G. Something. New York City,” he said. “Look, Nell, I know you help with stuff that comes up at the sheriff's office. I know you're really good at it, but it's up to Jesse to tell you. . . .”

I'd overstepped. One minute we were sharing, and now I was in danger of this entire conversation being reported back.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me. And Jesse is so sad. I don't want to make things worse. I just don't know how to help.”

“We should be turning this whole investigation over to the state police, you know, because of Jesse's connection to the victim. But he won't hear of it. His town, his case. And I guess I get that. If my friend were dead in front of my house, I'd feel the same way,” he said. “You know I'd do anything to help the chief.”

I liked Greg so much. He was sweet and helpful. I could feel his frustration and I shared it. Jesse was a stickler for procedure, so why wasn't he following it?

“Maybe he just wanted to bag it himself,” I said. “I mean, he's so particular, and that man was his friend. . . .”

“He put the card in his pocket, unbagged. Chain of evidence is broken. It's useless now. I mean, if it leads to the killer and it goes to trial, a defense attorney could say we made the whole thing up. It's just not how things work.”

“You'll catch the guy who did this, Greg. I know Jesse wants that more than anything. There has to have been other evidence.”

He nodded. “Just the notebook he had on him. At least we got that into evidence.”

“What was in the notebook?”

“No idea. Jesse took the evidence bags.”

“And there was nothing else in the rest of the car? Maybe he had an address, a piece of paper . . .”

“Nothing. The rest of the car was spotless.”

As he spoke I saw Jesse drive by in the squad car. He drove past us, so I wasn't sure he saw me talking with Greg, but then he stopped the car a few feet away. Greg looked like he'd been caught doing something wrong, so I decided to take the hit. “I'll talk to him,” I said.

I could see Greg was relieved. “Tell him I'm heading back to the station.”

As I walked toward the squad car, I turned briefly to look at the blue sedan. To my eye it didn't seem parked too close to the corner, so I made a note of the license plate. Just in case.

“H
i.” It wasn't an inspiring start, but it was something. I opened the passenger door and got in.

Jesse looked at me as if he didn't know me, then something roused in him and he smiled. “How's your day going?”

I wanted to tell him about Eleanor and the shop, and Patch, and about the woman wanting to buy a pattern of my quilt. I wanted to do what I always did, share the tiniest details of my day and hear the tiniest details of his. But this wasn't the time for it. I could tell that much by the worn look and the tiredness in his eyes.

“How are you doing?” I asked instead.

“I don't know. I still can't believe it. I can't understand what he would want up here.”

“Okay, so let's concentrate on what you do know and work from there. Maybe something will stick out.”

He smiled slightly. “You've become a real pro at this,” he said. “The coroner confirmed what you saw, the bullet to the back of his head killed him, probably in a matter of seconds. There was pooling of blood in the lower extremities, which meant he hadn't been moved. So he died in the driver's seat of that car while I was in the house, only thirty yards away, having dinner.”

I let the comment go. It was unfair for Jesse to feel guilty about Roger's death, especially since I was the one who could have seen something, could have said something to Jesse that might have prevented it. I almost said as much, but getting into a competition with Jesse over who was more to blame was not only pointless, it was the surest way to push us apart. Instead, I took a deep breath and concentrated my focus on the investigation. “Could the coroner say when?”

“Impossible to say exactly because of the cold. But we know he was alive at nine-twenty,” he said.

“Because that's when I saw him.”

“Exactly.”

“But I told you, I don't know that it was him.”

“It had to have been Roger. He died in that seat, so unless the killer was in the front seat of Roger's rental car, got out and let Roger in after you passed by, and then shot him . . .”

“Which doesn't seem plausible . . .”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “It's much more likely that someone got in the car while he was waiting outside my house to talk to me, or . . .”

“Or forced him at gunpoint to your house,” I said, finishing his awful thought. “Jesse, someone might be trying to hurt you. You need police protection.”

“I am the police.”

“Maybe Greg . . .”

“I don't need a babysitter.”

“Well, for Allie's sake . . .”

“I can protect my own daughter,” he snapped at me.

He was scared, sad, confused. I placed my hand in his and held it. I had a lot of questions, but they could wait, so I said the only thing I could think of that really mattered. “I love you, Jesse Dewalt.”

I could feel his shoulder soften slightly. He leaned his head against mine. “I love you, too, Nell Fitzgerald.”

We sat for a minute, then Jesse let go of my hand. “I have to get back to work.”

“Come over tonight for dinner. Eleanor asked me to invite you.” It was a lie, but a small one. Eleanor would have invited him if she'd thought of it. And chicken that I was, I assumed an invitation from her would carry more weight than one from me. “I would feel better if you and Allie were close by.”

Jesse hesitated then gave me a half smile. “Yeah, okay. I know Allie wants to rehearse her big moment as flower girl.”

“And Oliver probably wants to know your plans for a bachelor party.” Jesse was, after all, the best man.

“Do you throw a bachelor party for a senior citizen?” he asked.

“We're throwing a bachelorette party for Eleanor.”

Jesse laughed. “I really didn't want to know that. Okay, dinner tonight.”

“Seven o'clock.”

I got out of the car and watched him slowly pull away. I was glad our conversation had ended on a light note, but as the car turned the corner and out of view, I felt a heaviness in my chest, and a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the January winds.

A
s I knew she would be, Eleanor was delighted to have Jesse and Allie for dinner. “I should have thought of it myself,” she said when I asked her. “After all that poor man's been through.”

I was chopping vegetables for the salad as Eleanor checked on the peach cobbler she was making for dessert. The roast was resting on the counter, the potatoes were mashed, and the broccoli was chopped and ready to be steamed. Eleanor had made an amazing dinner, as always, and was in last-minute fussing mode.

I finished the cucumber and moved on to chopping tomatoes. I steeled myself and asked something I'd been meaning to ask for a long time. “What was he like then?”

“When Lizzie passed away, you mean? He collapsed into himself. You could feel the grief coming off him like heat from an oven. It was painful just to see him, to see him trying to smile for Allie. Without her to take care of, he would have just joined Lizzie in the grave I think.”

“What was she like?”

“I didn't know her well. Her people are farther south on the Hudson. When I met her, she was already sick, and, of course, that changes a person. She knew she didn't have much time and every minute she could spend with her husband and daughter was precious to her.”

“It seems like she was perfect.”

“No one is perfect. She was very nice.” My grandmother studied me a minute. “You're very nice, too, Nell. And Jesse loves you very much. Don't get insecure about this. It will do you no good, and, frankly, it's not a very attractive quality in a young lady. Focus yourself on the future, not the past.”

“Speaking of the future,” I started. I'd been debating how to begin this topic since I got home, but now that I had my courage I decided to go for it. I wanted Eleanor to tell me. I didn't want to have to jump on her with rumors. But she hadn't said a word about it, and I couldn't wait any longer. “Maggie told me something interesting.”

“Maggie is an interesting woman,” Eleanor said as she turned away from me and began examining the wineglasses. “I'm going to miss her when Oliver and I move south.”

And then the doorbell rang.

Oliver stood at the door with flowers and wine. I waited as he kissed Eleanor's cheek, hung up his coat, and put his gifts down on the hallway table. Then he greeted Barney like the old friend he was, and finally he looked up at me.

“Hello, my dear. How is art school these days?” Oliver asked in his clipped British accent. Tall, lean, with a neat white beard and a full head of white hair, he made an imposing, but equally charming, impression. Oliver was a world-renowned artist who, a year ago, had offered a special seminar to aspiring artists in the area. When Oliver met my grandmother at a reception of his work, he'd been smitten. And somehow, against all odds, my fiercely independent grandmother found herself in love.

“We're still on winter break,” I said. “We go back for my final set of courses at the end of the month.”

“So amazing to think where you were as an artist a year ago, and where you are now,” he said.

“It's amazing where we all are in our lives,” Eleanor added. “So much has changed in so short a time and I could never have imagined any of it.”

“You're leaving Archers Rest,” I said in a rush. It came out wrong. Whiny, hurt. I tried again. “Maggie mentioned you guys are thinking of—”

“Just winters.” Oliver leaned toward me, put a protective arm around my shoulder, and walked with me to the kitchen. “I can't take the cold anymore. It's a sacrifice for Eleanor and I feel like hell about it. Leaving Archers Rest and the shop for months at a time. I wasn't sure she'd say yes.”

“But she did say yes?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “She told me she would think about it. I'm awaiting my lady's pleasure.”

Eleanor let out a loud cough. “I am still here, you two. So you can stop talking about me as if I'm in the other room.”

“Okay,” I said, “then you've decided to say yes?”

She looked from me to Oliver and back to me. “I have. Just now, talking about how you have to move forward in life, I decided I would.”

“But Maggie knew about it this afternoon.”

“I talked to her first to get her thoughts on it. She's my dearest friend.” She reached out and softly brushed my cheek. “Well, maybe not my dearest anymore, but she's my oldest friend.”

I wasn't sure how I felt, but I knew that whatever loss I was experiencing was more about me than about her. Eleanor and Oliver were starting a new life together and that was a wonderful thing. “I'm happy for you, Grandma, for both of you, if that's what you want.”

The doorbell rang again. Oliver went to answer, escaping, he said, before we turned to tears in front of him. But there were no tears, at least not sad ones. I was happy for my grandmother. Happy she was marrying Oliver, and she was going to relax and enjoy herself. She had certainly earned it, raising two kids alone, running a business for forty years, and taking me in more than a year ago when my life was complicated and unhappy. My fears were selfish, and, worse, I felt like a child for wishing she would stay.

We all ate too much, but a dinner at my grandmother's house is like that. The roast was tender, the broccoli had the right amount of bite, and the potatoes were creamy without losing their flavor to butter and milk. By the time we'd finished the second bottle of wine and moved on to coffee and peach cobbler, I was stuffed. But I managed a sliver. And then another.

While the rest of us were eating, Allie kept the conversation moving with all the important questions.

“Do I walk down the aisle first?” Allie asked Eleanor.

“Yes, the flower girl always goes first. And you'll be so lovely in your dress.”

“But I won't be the prettiest. You'll be the prettiest,” Allie said, “because you're the bride. And when Nell marries Daddy, she'll be the prettiest. Isn't that true, Daddy?”

Jesse blushed a little. “Yes, Allie. The bride is always the prettiest.”

“And the groom the handsomest,” Oliver added. Then he winked at Allie, who burst out laughing in the way only a seven-year-old can. It must be wonderful to feel there's an answer for everything.

“When Nell and Daddy get married, you'll be my great-grandpa,” she said to him.

Oliver reached across the table and touched her hand. “It will be my honor.”

I got up from the table to clear the dishes. All the Jesse and Nell wedding talk was making me a little uneasy. I couldn't say why, exactly. I wanted to marry Jesse. Someday. I just didn't want to talk about it constantly.

Eleanor saw I was uncomfortable and jumped in to help. She turned to Allie. “Did your dad tell you about our kitten?”

Jesse looked at me. “You have a kitten?”

I nodded. “I meant to tell you this afternoon, but it kind of got lost with everything . . .” I let the sentence trail off.

“Where's the kitten?” Allie demanded.

“Upstairs in my room,” I told her. “I brought her home with me, but she's still not used to Barney so I'm keeping her in there during the night and I guess we'll bring her to the shop during the day.” I looked to Eleanor.

“I suppose. I hadn't really thought about it,” she admitted. “I didn't even decide whether we should keep her. She might already belong to someone. We should post signs or something.”

“I'll put something up at the shop,” I agreed. “And Jitters. And maybe the library.”

“I can put an all-points bulletin out on her and see if anyone's filed a missing kitten report.” Jesse smiled.

Eleanor turned to him and winked. “When it comes to getting the word out, I'll match the gossip line that runs through my shop against your police force any day.”

“Can I meet her?” Allie didn't wait for an answer. She ran from the table and up the stairs. Barney, never to be left out of anything, chased after her.

Jesse took my hand. “Thank you for today.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You were there.”

I looked over at Oliver, who was drinking his coffee and trying not to interfere with my moment with Jesse. “I guess you'll be my grandpa after the wedding,” I said.

“Why do you think I'm marrying Eleanor? I want to be related to you.”

I rolled my eyes but laughed. “You guys are supposed to be planning your bachelor party.”

“Under the circumstances . . .” Oliver said, “I think Jesse's energies would be better spent elsewhere.”

“Roger was my best man,” Jesse told us. “The night before my wedding, he took me out for a drink. Lizzie was mad. She thought we'd go out and get drunk at a strip club and I'd show up late to the church or, worse, not at all.” Jesse laughed at the memory. “But Roger and I just sat at an Irish place down the block and talked.”

Jesse let go of my hand, so I sat next to him, and watched as he lost himself in the past. “He said I was crazy lucky to have conned Lizzie into marrying me. He said she was way out of my league. And she was. And he said that if I ever needed him for anything, he'd be there for me. A best man isn't just for the wedding. A best man is for life, he said. Vigiles keep vigil.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It was just something he said to me a lot. ‘Vigiles keep vigil.' He said it was our code. It means police keep watch, or something,” he said. “And Roger did. He always had my back. Always. And I didn't have his when it mattered most.”

I opened my mouth to speak without any idea what to say. “We'll find out what happened—” I started before a commotion broke out above our heads.

“Daddy!” Allie yelled from upstairs.

Oliver and I followed Jesse up the stairs and into my room, where Eleanor and Allie stood in the doorway and pointed toward the area rug at the foot of my bed.

Barney had his nose pressed against the floor, his paws flat on either side, and had made his whole body as little as possible. No small feat for a golden retriever. It was clear he was trying to convey that he was not a threat to Patch, who was inches away from him. When we peeked in the room, the kitten hissed in our direction and arched her tiny back.

“Maybe we should get Barney out of there,” I suggested.

“Wait,” Allie said. “It's cute.”

So we waited. Within a minute, Patch forgot about us and turned her attention back to the dog. She reached a hesitant paw out and touched Barney's snout. Barney didn't move. Then the kitten moved even closer. She sniffed at the poor dog, who was doing his best imitation of a statue. Then she moved toward his eye. She stared at him, and he blinked back. I could see his tail moving a little, wagging with the excitement of a new friend.

Then, for no reason at all, she moved away, ran under the bed, and hissed.

Eleanor came into the room and petted her old friend. “That was a lovely first date,” she told him. “Give her time and she'll be madly in love.”

Barney was almost totally deaf so he may not have heard her, but he certainly understood. He leapt up and licked Eleanor's cheek, and we all went in to congratulate the old dog on his patience.

Allie looked under the bed and saw Patch. “She's scared.”

“We should rehearse for the wedding.” Eleanor grabbed Allie's hand. “Why don't you come with me to the living room. We'll practice there.”

Allie took my hand. “You too, Nell.”

“Coming with us?” I asked the men.

Jesse shook his head. “Oliver and I have bachelor party plans to discuss.”

“A trip to Vegas, I assume,” Oliver agreed. “Something that requires bail money.”

We all retreated downstairs. Allie, Eleanor, Barney, and I went off to the living room while the men returned to the dining room talking about scotch and cigars.

I sat on the couch and watched Allie walk down the aisle we'd formed between the couch and the two chairs that sat opposite. Allie took each step carefully, pretending to hold a basket of flower petals that she tossed onto the floor. She was followed by Barney as ring bearer, then Eleanor. I smiled and applauded each time, trying to look as if I were completely immersed in the proceedings, but all I could think of was what Roger had said to Jesse years before. “Vigiles keep vigil.”