The Piper (3 page)

A waiter with lovingly spiked hair and a honey mellow voice offered refills on the beer, and a box for Teddy's burger.

‘We'll let the burger go,' Olivia said. ‘But the beers are a really good thing.'

The waiter hesitated, eyebrows scrunching.

‘She means yes,' Amelia said.

‘Thank God I'm going home where I'm not going to need a translator.'

‘Hey, they just don't get the music of your speech.'

Olivia began shredding her napkin. ‘So what are these patterns on the calls from the dead?'

Amelia leaned across the table. ‘They divide it up into categories.'

‘Who is they?'

‘I don't know. The Internet people. First up are the calls that come right after the person dies – eight hours to two days. Usually before they're even buried. And the one who gets the call – most of the time, they have no idea the caller is dead. They only find out later. Think about that.'

‘I think it's creepy.'

‘Maybe it's just sweet. I wonder if children ever call people after they die.'

‘What do they say? In these calls?'

‘Most of the time just hello, I love you, I'm okay.' Amelia cocked her head. ‘Now, the next group are the calls that come in the first week after the death. After that – now get this.' Amelia jabbed her finger on the table. ‘Nobody ever gets a call in the time period between eight and thirty days after the person has died. Your brother has been dead how long?'

‘Two months, give or take.'

‘There you go.'

‘That's weird. That time period of silence. So why is that?'

Amelia waggled a hand. ‘No telling. But after that, twenty-two percent of the calls come between two and six months after death. Just like yours.'

‘They actually have percents?'

‘I think your brother's call would fall into the category of a
crisis
call. That runs to twenty-seven percent.'

‘A crisis phone call? The crisis is over. Chris is dead.'

‘Not him. You.'

‘I'm not
in
a crisis. That's all done.'

Amelia put out her hand. ‘Look, I—' The waiter arrived with the beers, and Amelia paused until he was out of earshot. ‘Don't take this wrong, and get that mouth of yours all fired up. But maybe this whole thing is some kind of stress reaction. You haven't slept for months, Liv. Sleep deprivation causes all kinds of . . . reactions. And no wonder. You almost lost everything when you got laid off.'

Olivia made finger marks on the condensation of her glass. So Amelia had noticed when the car disappeared. She figured people did notice these things, but were too polite to bring it up. In the last few months the thought of being homeless had joined her list of lifetime fears, which included drowning, earthworms and being buried alive. If it hadn't been for Hugh giving her his battered up Jeep that he kept for off-roading, she'd have had nothing to drive, a virtual death sentence in California.

A prince among exes. What was that thing he'd told her? That you take care of your child by taking care of her mother. She'd been warned by at least two girlfriends that men were nice like that during the separation if they were hoping you'd change your mind, but to watch out when things went to court.

‘It worked out, though, Amel. I sold the house. I'm taking a new job back in Knoxville, and that's like a dream come true. I'll be the rainmaker, the broker, building up my own business instead of working in the back office because I move all the time. I'm going home and I'm going to stay put. I'm happier now than I've been in years.'

‘But it's been hell for you, Livie. And this whole time you're worried sick about your brother in Tennessee, who is clearly in the middle of some kind of psychological meltdown. How many pounds did he lose before he died?'

‘Sixty. At least.'

‘Acting weird, not sleeping, making his wife and daughters move out of the house. All that worry, coming just a year after you and Hugh got divorced.' Amelia sat back in the booth. ‘Still here, Liv?'

‘You're saying I imagined it.'

‘You said you were asleep. Maybe it was part of a dream.'

Olivia flipped her cell phone open and texted over to incoming calls. ‘Is this a dream?'

Amelia took the phone, and pulled the glasses up on the chain, using them like a magnifying glass to study the screen. ‘Are these things getting smaller, or am I just getting . . . Jesus, Liv. Twelve twelve p.m. exactly, just like you said. But there's no number here. It says voice mailbox.'

‘I don't think they have a category for ghost.'

‘So okay, then, maybe the crisis is now, Livie.'

Olivia put her elbows on the table, avoiding a smear of catsup next to Teddy's plate. ‘My take is he was trying to tell me something about my sister. He said
The Mister Man.
I think maybe it was just a . . . a sort of guilt call. Making amends. He said something about it being his fault, and that it was okay he died, because he paid the piper. Maybe he was just reassuring me about that SUNDS thing. You know damn well I've been wondering if it wasn't a suicide.'

‘It was a pretty weird diagnosis for the coroner to make. SUNDS is a pretty fucking rare diagnosis. The general consensus is it doesn't exist.'

‘So maybe that's why he called, because it didn't make sense. He wanted to reassure me. To tell me he didn't kill himself. What is it, Amelia? You've got that look.'

‘No look.'

‘Come on.'

‘Well, okay, but be logical here, Livie. If he didn't kill himself, why does he feel guilty? Why does he need to make amends?'

‘He always felt guilty. About Emily.'

‘Why?'

‘God only knows. We all did, a little bit.'

‘Could Chris have had anything to do with it?'

‘Hell no, Amel. He was seventeen. He was in Louisville, Kentucky on an overnight trip with the wrestling team, some kind of national competition, he was totally absorbed in that.'

‘And they never found out anything? About what happened to your sister?'

‘Nothing. My mom and dad were out with friends, playing bridge. They called to check on us a little after eleven. Emily was babysitting, I was five and she was fifteen. I was asleep on the couch, and she told my dad she was taking the dog, Hunter, outside for his late night wee wee, and then she would tuck me into bed. My parents get home and there I am on the couch in my little jammies, sound asleep. The back door is unlocked, the gate is open in the backyard, and Emily and Hunter are gone. Both of them. And Hunter was no ordinary dog. He was a German shepherd, and very protective. People were scared of him. So they figured she took him out like she said, and never made it back in the house. And both of them disappeared. Just like they say. Without a trace.'

Amelia had heard it all before but she listened as if for the first time.

‘We named him The Mister Man – whoever it was who took Emily. That's what Chris and I always called him. And that's what he said in the call. To watch out for The Mister Man. You know, that's actually strange.'

‘The whole thing is strange.'

‘No, I mean, if you saw a picture of my brother after it happened. Well, all of us. We looked . . . sad. But Chris, he'd been this kind of hefty guy, I mean, he was on the wrestling team and he was big boned and bulked up. But after Emily disappeared he started losing weight, just like he did this last year. If you look at pictures, before and after, you can't even recognize him. Emily was gone three years before he stopped looking like he'd spent his life in some kind of concentration camp.'

‘Didn't you say that Chris said he wanted to warn you?'

‘There was a lot of static, Amel, it was hard to understand. Maybe I heard it wrong.'

‘Maybe you did. They did mention that, on the website. Bad connections, and sometimes the sound of bells.'

‘Bells? Really? I heard that. Like wind chimes, but a long way off.'

‘Yeah, well, if it was your brother, it
was
a long way off. It's just—'

‘
What?
'

‘I can't help but wonder what he meant by
warn
.'

N
o one was expecting them, when Olivia and Teddy took the I-75 split and headed north into Knoxville, one day ahead of schedule, arriving in that last magnificent blaze of sunlight and breezy coolness that comes at the end of fading summer days. For Olivia, it was a
moment.
She had been homesick for such a long time.

Back in the day, Olivia had left home willingly, unaware how hard it would be to get back. Hugh's work in the manufacturing management of anything metallic and noisy led them to more places than Olivia could remember, the highlights being Fort Smith, Arkansas, Madison, Wisconsin, a short stint on the outskirts of Memphis, followed by a living hell called Endicott, New York.

Hugh had talked a lot about the work ethic of Americans, the only people in the world who dropped family, friends and homes without a second thought, moving regularly and willingly for the sake of a job. He talked about it like it was a religion, but Olivia had come to the conclusion that this corporate culture was a scam. In the early days, Hugh had changed jobs at the beckoning dollar signs dangled by the headhunters, but more and more lately he'd been skewered by the dreaded
work force reduction
– the corporate term for
we're going to fuck up your life.

California had just been another stop along the way.

Olivia had planned to spend a night in Memphis, but the city had been dark, and hot, and industrial along the interstate. They were ahead of schedule, and Olivia was on a roll. Teddy and Winston had been deep asleep, and Olivia, restless and anxious to be home, fueled by coffee and sugared gummy worms bought just outside of Little Rock, had blown through Memphis on an impulse thinking she would stop somewhere along the way. She made it into Nashville at three a.m., too close to falling asleep behind the wheel to get the rest of the way home. They took a room and she slept past noon, not getting up and running until three, missing the hotel checkout time, which meant an extra night's charge.

They'd stopped at a McDonald's in Harriman, no longer noticing the rank long car trip odor of fast food and sweaty socks, overlaid with the whangy aroma that had permeated the cab since Winston had tangled with a pimento cheese sandwich and lost. It was cool out, a relief from the hot days of the trip, and they opened the doors to the breeze, and Olivia ate French fries, and drank a big Coke, Winston had his own order of Chicken McNuggets, and Teddy ate a cheeseburger and kicked her heels against the seat. The heat would be back, likely tomorrow, today was just a tease, like one of the crisp cool days they'd get around Halloween. Olivia had that good fall feeling – fresh starts, new things, a little hum of excitement because she was almost home.

She had one of those too rare glints of awareness, as she sat in the Jeep sharing fries with Teddy and Winston. This was it. This was happy. Whoever that was who said you couldn't come home again was totally full of shit. From here on out things were going to be good. They had been through the wars, her little family, but now they were over the hump.

Olivia would remember this one, truly perfect moment, before she and Teddy took their very first look at the house. Blaming herself, later, for being dazzled and distracted by the joy of coming home, was entirely unfair.

They rolled into Knoxville right at dusk. It was a strange feeling, being back home, where the streets were familiar but so distant in memory. Two months ago, home for her brother's funeral, Olivia found her way around by instinct, only getting confused when she tried to consciously think about which way to go.

She headed north on Kingston Pike, late enough that the after work rush had died away.

‘Look for a street sign that says Westwood,' she told Teddy. ‘It should be on our left. Do you want to run by and see your new school? It's on the way.'

Teddy shrugged and stared out the window. Her hair was half in and half out of a ponytail, and her little round glasses were smudged. She had chosen to wear socks today with her sandals, for no particular reason, different colored socks, sliding and bunching at the ankle.

‘You want to go see it?' Olivia said.

Teddy's voice was a whisper. ‘That's okay.'

‘I know how much it sucks to have to go to another new school, Teddy. But remember, me and Uncle Chris both went to Bearden when we were kids. It's friendlier here than in California.'

‘I like California.'

‘I know. But after this, Teddy, no more moving and no more changing schools. This time we're going to stay put.'

Teddy's hand strayed to Winston, who was straddling the middle trying to get his head in the front seat. He licked each one of Teddy's fingers, and she wiped them on her shorts. She sat forward and pointed.

‘There it is, Mommy. See the sign? Westwood.'

Olivia put on the turn signal.

‘Are we almost there?'

‘One minute away.'

Teddy smiled and sighed deeply, and the dog put a paw in her lap. ‘It's a pretty house, Winston. Uncle Chris used to live there and it's cool.'

Olivia turned right on to Sutherland Avenue, watched for the landmarks, the line of little bungalows she'd known from childhood.

The front porch light was on, which was comforting, though it was not yet dark. As far as Olivia was concerned, the stone Tudor cottage defined home. Charlotte and Chris had let the yard go to hell, but even behind the overgrown magnolia and berry bushes, the clumps of dried leaves and moldy chestnuts that littered the ground, the house struggled to welcome her back. She loved the wood battens and diamond paned windows, the waist high stone wall and black iron fencing, the thick hedge of snarled honeysuckle and forsythia that shielded the boundaries of the property on all sides.