Too Far Under (24 page)

“Come on, Cleo. This is Boulder. We’re not
talking about gang members. I seriously doubt any of them will come
after me with a gun.”

“I don’t think any of the people we’re
looking at would take the chance of bumping Lacey off in a way that
was obviously murder,” Shane said. “That would be a serious
tactical error that would attract the police and probably get the
killer caught. If they tried anything, it would be something they
could make look like an accident—like what happened to Mom. So
don’t be standing on the edges of any cliffs, Lacey, or driving on
steep mountain roads where someone could easily run you off.”

This was getting creepy. I began to wonder
whether Shane could distinguish between online- game battles and
real-life confrontations with real-life consequences. I could hear
Pablo in the back of my mind warning me what a terrible idea this
plan was. “Maybe we should think about this for a few days,” I
said. “I don’t want to do anything that will put Lacey–or anyone
else–in danger.”

“No, Cleo. Timing is everything,” Shane said.
“Today is the day Lacey talked to Mom, and Dad knew she was doing
it today, so that probably means Judith knows too. Today is when we
need to get the information out. Once we lose the freshness, we
lose our impact.”

“I agree,” Lacey said. “And how is waiting a
few days going to make any difference anyway? Let’s go ahead. I’ll
leak the news to Dad and I’m sure he’ll tell Judith. And I’ll call
Grandad. He’ll probably tell Glenna.”

“What about Faye and Tim?” Shane asked.

“I can tell Faye when I take Angelica to the
gallery tomorrow,” Lacey said.

“Faye will probably tell Tim,” I said. “They
have a thing going on.”

“So that leaves the Scientologists and Hugh
Symes,” Shane said. “I know a couple of people who could spread
this around in a way that is likely to reach Hugh.”

Should I offer my help in reaching the
Scientologists? I was reluctant to do it, didn’t want to get
involved at that level. But I remembered Tyler telling me not to
just float around when Angelica was out there alone in the mean
waves. I felt obliged to participate in the plan along with Shane
and Lacey.

“I found out recently that I know one of the
Scientologists who was close to your Mom,” I said. “He’s someone I
knew a long time ago and when he found out I was involved with your
family, he started pumping me for information. I refused to tell
him anything, but I’m sure he’ll be interested if I offer to share
something with him.”

“Sweet!” Shane said. “We’re a team on a
quest. Let’s move on to the next level of play. We have our
assignments, let’s get to it. And keep in touch as news comes in.”
He stood up, took his pillow, and went back to his computer.

I was still trying to decide whether this
plan was a huge mistake as Lacey and I got up and headed toward the
door. On my way out, I glanced at Shane’s computer screen and there
among the shimmery characters flying around, I briefly glimpsed a
surfer in black shorts. Tyler? Was this a sign he approved of our
plan and my part in it? Strangely, I felt reassured.

It was nearly 7:00 p.m. by the time Lacey
dropped me off at my office. I was starving but I wanted to
straighten the place up before I left so it would be ready for my
morning clients. Just as I was about to leave, my phone rang. My
caller ID said “Elisa calling.” I was tempted not to answer,
because I knew she wasn’t going to like the idea that I’d signed on
to Shane’s plan to smoke out Mirabel’s murderer. But I had promised
Elisa I’d keep her in the loop, so—reluctantly—I picked up.

“Hey, girl. Have you eaten yet? I’m just
leaving a meeting. It’s lasagna night at Pasta Jay’s. Want to join
me?”

As soon as she said lasagna, I could taste
it—the homemade noodles, gooey cheese and seasoned ground beef
baked in Jay’s famous Marinara sauce. “That does sound yummy,” I
said. “I can be there in fifteen minutes. Does that work for
you?”

“See you there,” Elisa said.

As I walked the few blocks from my office to
the homey corner restaurant, the enticing smell of garlic welcomed
me. A few people were waiting outside to be called for tables, so I
put my name in with the hostess. Elisa showed up about five minutes
later and we were lucky enough to get a table next to one of the
floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the foothills.

Some Boulderites insist Pasta Jay’s is just
for tourists, but the restaurant actually has lots of devoted local
fans. I’m one of those. I love Pasta Jay’s delicious garlicky
marinara sauce and its cozy atmosphere of brick walls, red
checkered tablecloths, posters, flowers and candles. The delicious
fresh Italian food is more comfort than gourmet—but I’ve never had
a dish there that I didn’t enjoy.

Elisa and I ordered a bottle of Chianti, a
house salad to share and the lasagna special. We chitchatted about
nothing much until we were set with our wine, garlic bread and
salad. Then Elisa asked, “Have you found anything for your
grandmother yet?”

I sipped my wine, then said, “No. I visited a
couple more places on Sunday, but I couldn’t imagine Gramma in any
of them. Like I told you the other day, I’ve been thinking about
bringing her home and hiring a round-the-clock caregiver.” I
stopped to spear and eat some greens with gorgonzola, then
continued. “I talked to Tim again about it and he reminded me that
if I hire privately I might end up getting someone dishonest or
worse. Of course I know that but I plan to be careful who I pick.
He said his own father got ripped off by a caregiver and it’s not
so easy to find someone honest.”

Elisa fished around in the salad to get some
beets and garbanzo beans with her lettuce. “Maybe it’s better to go
through an agency,” she said, as she steered her full fork toward
her mouth. She ate the bite, then finished her thought. “Agencies
have to do background checks on their employees.”

“Agencies are a lot more expensive,” I said.
“I’m trying to find out what Gramma can afford. I talked to Faye
about selling more of her paintings, but she said the current ones
aren’t selling well, so we shouldn’t put more on the market.”

“That seems strange, “Elisa said. “Martha’s
work was always in such demand.”

“Times change, I guess,” I said. “I haven’t
been following the art world much lately.”

“Do you know how many of Martha’s painting
sold in the last year?”

“Not really. I figured Faye was on top of it
so I didn’t have to be. And I got busy and stopped keeping up.”

“Thinking of what you’ve been busy with, how
are things going with the Townes family?”

The waitress brought our lasagna, so I waited
until she left, then took a deep breath and began to fill Elisa in
on all that had happened in the few days since I’d called her
Saturday afternoon to vent about the rejection of my conference
paper. Stopping now and then to eat, I hit all the
highlights—Derricks’s agitated search for Mirabel’s new will;
Brian’s creepy questions about my meetings with various Townes’
family members; the startling conversation I overheard between Faye
and Tim about Shane’s fake ID business; the grim information Tim
gave me about Glenna ripping off his father; my unsettling
encounter with Judith after driving Angelica home; Lacey’s
satisfying contact with Mirabel in her session today; and finally
the disturbing agreement Lacey, Shane and I had just reached at his
apartment.

“Whew—all that since Saturday and it’s still
only Wednesday!” Elisa said, pouring more wine into both our
glasses. “You’re up to your neck in this Townes’ family mess, Cleo.
I thought you agreed to be extra careful with what you promise
people who come to your Contact Project. I distinctly remember that
after that mess you got us into last summer, you swore you’d never
go after another murderer, no matter how much someone begged
you.”

I took a swig of Chianti. She had a point.
Both of us had been in terrible danger last summer as a result of
my helping a young widow discover who pushed her husband off a
cliff. But it was Elisa who was taken hostage and almost got
killed. “Look,” I said, “I understand why you’re upset and I want
you to know I’m not expecting or asking for any help from you. I’m
only telling you all this because you made me promise to keep you
in the loop.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about,” she
said. “It’s you. Because of your lack of good judgment last summer
you lost clients, you almost had your psychotherapist’s license
revoked, and you nearly got killed. Wasn’t that enough excitement
to at least last out the year?”

We both returned to our food, which gave us a
break from conversation to let the tension dissipate. We’re the
kind of good friends who push each other’s limits, but also know
when to back off.

I smiled at her. “Come on, Elisa. You know
I’m not in this for excitement. I feel that I have to help Angelica
and Lacey. They need me.”

“You’re a therapist,” she said carefully. “I
don’t have to tell you that feeling needed can be a trap. How is
Pablo taking you getting back into the detective business?”

I sighed. “Not well, of course. We had a big
fight Sunday morning after I updated him on the details. He says
I’m in way over my head and that I should let the police handle it.
He went home mad and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Elisa smirked. “Could be a good thing, given
all that’s happened since Sunday. I don’t even want to think about
what he’d say about the plan you hatched with Lacey and Shane to
try to trap someone by spreading false information.”

I didn’t back off or look away as I replied.
“I agree that may not be the best idea, but Shane was very
persuasive and I didn’t have a better suggestion.”

She moved her face a little closer to me,
keeping her eyes locked on mine. “How is it going to work,
exactly?” she asked. “Once you spread the lie around, what will you
do?”

She had me there. I looked down. “I’m not
sure. We haven’t thought it all the way through. I guess we’ll see
what happens, and go from there.”

“Let’s hope what happens isn’t someone
getting killed,” Elisa said, pushing her advantage.

I made one final attempt to win her
over—admittedly a feeble one. “You’re overreacting.”

Before Elisa could reply, the waitress
stopped at our table to ask if we wanted take-out boxes for what
was left of our dinners. We were both stuffed so we asked for the
boxes and the check.

We let the conversation go at that point,
each of us convinced that the other was missing the main point—but
neither of us in the mood to push it any further.

I got home to find trash strewn all around my
driveway, back yard and patio. An unpleasant surprise. Both my
trashcan and my recycling bin were overturned. I cursed myself for
neglecting to tie down the bins, leaving them vulnerable to the
wind, which had picked up during the evening.

But then it occurred to me that a person
might have done this. Someone going through my trash looking for
something, or someone who wanted to send me a message. No, that was
crazy. I’d probably been listening too much to Elisa and Pablo’s
warnings.

In any case, I had a mess to clean up, and
the sooner the better because in my neighborhood trash can attract
bears, especially in the fall. I turned on the back patio light and
started in. While I gathered up orange-juice cartons, junk mail,
and miscellaneous trash, I thought about my promise to Lacey and
Shane to share our fake Mirabel message with Brian. The more I
thought about it, the less I wanted to do it. I certainly didn’t
want to tell Brian that Lacey had talked to Mirabel in a contact
session at my office. In fact, I didn’t want to talk to Brian at
all. On the other hand I had promised.

By the time I had all the trash back where it
belonged, I still hadn’t decided what to do. I drifted over to a
chair on my back patio, sat down, and gazed off at the foothills
behind my house, hoping for inspiration.

“Yo, Cleo. Quit worrying about nosedives.
Make your stance fit the wave.”

Not exactly the inspiration I was looking
for, but there hovering over the middle of my back yard was Tyler
on his surfboard.

“Tyler! Where have you been? There’s lots
going on and I haven’t seen you for a week—except maybe in Shane’s
computer game. Were you there?”

As usual, he stayed on message, ignoring my
question

“Cleo, you can’t sit in the channel and
watch. Get into the lineup. Get wet. Even wipeouts are fun.”

“Fun? What are you talking about? This is
dangerous stuff!”

“I told you, you need to believe in yourself.
Don’t back down. You’ll blow it if you miss the good wave.”

Then, gracefully riding the crest of some
virtual whitecap, he sailed off into the night sky.

I had trouble sleeping that night and woke up
in a funk the next morning. To settle my mind, I decided to go for
a short hike in the foothills behind my house. The wind had died
down overnight and the morning was sunny and warm enough to hike in
a light sweatshirt. As I climbed the steep trail, I leaned into the
rhythm of my breathing, keeping my thoughts quiet. I relaxed,
enjoying the scent of pine needles, the feel of the breeze on my
skin, the stretch of my muscles and the autumn colors of the bushes
and trees around me. As I often do, I marveled at the way nature
blends the many shades of red, gold, yellow, brown and green in a
way that I’ve never captured to my satisfaction in a painting.

On my way back down, I let myself reflect on
last night’s conversation with Tyler. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t
know what he was telling me to do. I needed to help Angelica and
keep my commitment to Lacey and Shane. I decided I would call Brian
and invite him to drop by my office later. I could have met him for
coffee at a safe neutral place like the Trident Café, but I wasn’t
afraid of him. I figured that meeting him in my own space—the space
where I operate as a professional—would give me confidence and more
control over our interaction.