The Fallen Angels Book Club (6 page)

“Oh, yes, yes. I wrote it to remind me. You're to see Marla in the kitchen. Or, was it the sunroom? Just help me first.”

After about an hour of starts and stops, we finished. Wheeling her into the recreation room with the others, I placed her next to the windows.

She grabbed my hand. “You know, I have a beautiful stained glass window in my dining room. My daughter was an artist and made it for me. The windows here are ugly.” She squeezed my fingers. Tears slipped down her pale cheek. “Now my daughter's gone. I miss her and I miss my window. Tell Mr. Mitchell to sell everything else. Not my window.”

“I'll let him know. I won't let anything happen to your window. I'm going to your house in a few days to take an inventory. I'll make sure the window is excluded from the real estate listing papers.”

I patted her hand and with a fragile smile, she waved me off like a servant.

Marla sat in the community room. “Hello, sweetie, it's so good to see you.”

Bending over, I gave her a light kiss on her upturned cheek. “Good Morning. How are you?”

“Every day I wake up is a good day,” she chuckled.

It was a ritual we went through. She walked around with two pairs of eyeglasses, evidence Tiny's son had made sales inroads at the center. Tall and thin, Marla wore pale blue jeans with an elastic waist and a bright yellow button-up sweater. Her almond-white hair was cut short and a little uneven, thanks to one of the seniors who used to be a barber before he got the shakes.

I took a cup and saucer from the counter. “You're looking well. Are you ready to fill out forms?”

She raised herself out of the chair and squinted at me. “Come closer, I don't want you to say anything, but there's something wrong with Lily.”

I wanted to point out that there were likely a lot of things wrong with Lily, but instead, I took my cue from her loud whisper. “What's the matter?”

“I think she's getting the wrong medicine.” She turned and looked over her shoulder.

There was no one there.

“Why do you say that?”

“I don't want to talk now. Can you come back on Friday? I know you don't usually come on that day, but Friday's when Joseph is gone.”

Joseph was a nurse practitioner at the center. He looked to be in his forties, with a quarter-sized purple birthmark near the beginning of his hairline. He was cordial to me, and appeared to be professional and caring. I didn't see him that often and, when we passed each other in the halls, our brief exchanges centered on weather, sports and traffic conditions.

“Sure. I have some office things to get done, but I can be here in the late afternoon on Friday.”

We agreed I should come at four.

That seemed to satisfy her. “Now, sweetie, what's up with you? You seem bothered today.”

I had to laugh. At seventy-nine, Marla liked to think she kept up with the latest slang. “One of our book club members was killed a few days ago.”

“They think you did it?”

I dropped my pen on the floor. A year ago Marla confided in me about her husband, who died full of bitterness trying to defend his name against a political opponent. In a moment of weakness, without going into a lot of detail, I shared my own loss of reputation. She promised to keep my confidence. Still, it threw me off balance when, from time to time, she made a reference to my past. I began to regret my possibly misplaced trust.

“I don't know—maybe.” I retrieved my pen.

“Well, I don't think you could ever do something like that. When my Leland was alive, he worked for the DA's office. I can't tell you how many times he looked someone in the eye and could tell they were guilty. I look into your eyes, and I don't think you're guilty.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you. Now, let's get to those forms.”

While the police would give no credence to Marla's rather subjective litmus test, it made me feel a little better.

B
y the time I got to our club meeting, the wall I'd built to contain my anxiety had started to crack. I mistakenly sent certified mail to myself and had to make three attempts before I remembered the main phone number to the office. Everyone was already in their seats. I gazed around the table and wondered if the book club would continue. I thought not.

“Let's get started.” Abby put her glasses on and looked around the room. “You know why we're here.”

Gene picked at his eyebrows. “I only came to clear the air about Rory.”

Miller glanced at the ceiling, as if looking for divine intervention. “What's there to say? He's dead.”

I ignored him. “I agree with Gene. Didn't anyone else take notice of the way he died?”

“Hell, yeah.” Richard sat stiffly in his chair. “He died the same way Antonio did in our last book.”

“I caught it, too.” Rena's large brown eyes opened wide. “I mean, well, it's like—well, I'm just going to say what everyone's thinking. Maybe it could have been done by a club member. The police think it was one of us.”

It was out. Silence screamed throughout the room.

Abby groaned and sank down in her chair.

Gene got up and leaned over the table. “Maybe a friend of his read the book and copied the killing.”

“Some friend,” Miller mumbled and reached for an origami sheet from his pocket.

“Wait a minute, folks.” While I usually liked to sit back, letting other people speak before I committed myself, this wasn't what I had in mind. “Before we start climbing into our caves, let's pause a moment. What do we know about the killing, other than that it mimics a book we read?”

No one jumped in to answer.

“For that matter, what do we really know about Rory? Like each of us, he has a questionable past. We don't know anything about him outside of this group.”

Richard peered over his rimless glasses and sucked a tooth. “Not true, Hollis. I was out about two weeks ago with … with a friend, and I saw Rory with a real nice-looking young lady. I figured he'd want me to walk past, but he stopped, said hello and introduced her.”

“Well, dude, who was she?” Miller urged.

“Now, in retrospect, it seems kind of strange. He said she was his fiancée, but she looked totally bored with him.” Richard paused. “There was something else about the way he reacted, like he was anxious for me to think she was hot, but I could tell he was nervous about me, too.”

Gene said, “You think? He probably didn't know if you'd blow his cover.”

Richard shook his head. “Nah, it was something else.”

My impatience was growing. “Yeah, yeah. Cute girl aside, does anyone else know anything about his past?”

“I know what he went up for.” Miller completed a tiny origami bird and passed it to me.

“What?” Rena said.

“Big league extortion.”

“How do you know?” For the first time Abby showed interest in the conversation.

Miller apparently hadn't counted on being the center of attention. He hesitated, as though weighing what to say—or how much.

“I came across his background by accident. I just never said anything 'cause, well, you know, our pledge and everything.” Blinking rapidly, he rubbed his hands back and forth on his pant legs.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. I didn't believe he had come across Rory's background by accident. The other members squirmed in their chairs. Did Miller have access to our histories, too?

Rena looked around at each of us. “Do you think he was extorting again?”

Miller cleared his throat. “The police think he might have been killed because he was a blackmailer.”

We were all silent.

I had to think we probably all knew we were more or less fodder for an astute blackmailer. I, for one, to make it more difficult, changed my name shortly after coming off parole. I wouldn't be surprised to learn I didn't know the true identities of my fellow members. Jeffrey Wallace brought us all together. His insight and caring was rare in a parole officer. When the club first met, we speculated about why he chose us, and why a book club. He had given the same recruitment speech to each of us: book lovers were kindred spirits, and we were all in need of a path back to society. That sounded a bit like a crock to me, but it worked like therapy. Now I would miss the group if something came between us.

Abby stood. “I'm leaving. This is leading nowhere. I didn't want this meeting to begin with. My past is my own business.”

“Sit tight, Abby. You're not going anywhere.” Richard leaned forward. “None of us can risk leaving here without having a clear understanding of what kind of loyalty we can count on from each other.”

I had hoped the meeting would give me a clue as to Bill's connection to Rory. Possibilities raced around in my head, but so far there just seemed to be a lot of rattled cages. “If Rory was … say, blackmailing one of us,” I went on, “there's nothing we can do now. It's over.”

“Over my ass,” Miller said. “There's a killer in the room.”

Richard coughed.

“Wait a second,” Rena jumped in. “It's doesn't have to be one of us. Maybe somebody out there had it in for Rory and knew he read this book, and … and then copied the murder.”

“We're still going in circles,” Abby said.

Gene checked his watch. “I don't know about you guys, but I'm done. I have no intention of going back to prison. I'm going to tell the truth.” He picked up his jacket. “Hollis, the police haven't confirmed the blackmail. He wasn't blackmailing me. No need for anyone to share their story. I'm not going to ask, so you don't have to tell me.”

“Gene, no one is sharing their story. Miller, I don't think the killer is necessarily in this room. I want to know if anyone had any clue about him, something he might have said, or—”

“I'd hate to think one of you guys might have done it,” Rena said.

I formed a
T
with my hands for time out. “Look, Rena, we'd hate to think that you did it, too.” She opened her mouth to protest. “What I'm saying is that we all might have been set up. Maybe Rory told someone about the club, and we became easy suspects.”

“So where is this going?” Abby asked.

“Maybe there's something one of us knows that the rest don't know we know. We could try to figure out—”

Miller spoke slowly. “This isn't television. We can't afford to play detective.”

I caught myself glaring at the stress cracks in the ceiling.

Could Bill have set this up?

“Okay then, let's just let the police do their job,” Abby said. “I think we should all agree to stick to our rules: we don't know anything about anybody.”

Gene nodded. “Yeah, I'm with Abby.”

The others nodded. Richard was the only one who looked over at me. I shrugged.

Abby picked up her purse. “I think we should suspend our meetings until further notice. In time I'll … I'll contact everyone to come up with a date for our next meeting.”

Everybody got up as if a bell had rung. I helped put the table and chairs in the storage area. I was taking a last look around the room when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped.

“Want to go to Starbucks?” Richard asked.

I gave him a small smile. “I drink tea.”

“They have tea, too.” He placed the last chair on the stack and guided me by my elbow toward the door. “There's something I want to tell you.”

Richard was over a foot taller than me. I struggled to keep up with his relaxed stride. Looking at his neatly pressed shirt and Dockers, I wondered if he was married. The band of pale skin on the ring finger of his left hand and the gold band on his right raised more questions. His blond Dennis the Menace looks didn't hold an attraction for me.

The line at Starbucks was fairly short. I grabbed a small café table in the corner. Richard came over with his Venti Caramel Macchiato and passed me my green tea. I wrapped my hands around the cup.

“Okay, talk.”

“I want to help you.” Richard peered at me over the lip of the safety lid.

“Help me?”

“Don't be cute, Hollis. You and I both know you're not going to let this go. I know I can't.” He set the cup down and scanned the room.

Something in his voice caught my attention. “Why's that?”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You may think you know me, but there's little you know that's minimally real.”

“To tell you the truth,” I said, “I don't think about you one way or the other. If you expect me to be surprised, I'm not. I have my own problems.”

Richard nodded offhandedly and took another sip. “The pieces had finally started to come together. I recently found out Rory was blackmailing me. I think maybe he was blackmailing you, too.”