W Is for Wasted (32 page)

“He took care of his own expenses before he passed. I admired his forethought. I think he might have hired a small band of professional mourners. There were three people there who didn’t seem to know each other, let alone the man to whom they were paying their respects. Tastefully done, I must say, except for the inclusion of that unfortunate hymn, “Begone Unbelief.” Never cared for that one. Rhyming the word ‘wrestle’ with ‘vessel’ strikes me as unseemly.”

“Well, yeah.”

“I was the only other visitor, so I felt obliged to sing along. When I came to the word ‘wrestle,’ I hummed instead. I couldn’t help myself. I hope you don’t think I was out of line.”

“Well within your rights. No question. Entirely up to you,” I said.

“Thank you, though that’s not what I wanted to discuss.”

“Ah.”

“After the service, your friend Mr. Sharonson took me aside, expressing his concern that you hadn’t yet met with him to discuss arrangements for your family member.”

“Family member?”

“Terrence Dace.”

“Oh, Dace. Oh, him. I’m sorry, I drew a blank. I was focused on Hardin Comstock and the reference threw me. I did have Dace’s body transported from the coroner’s office, but that’s as much as I’ve done. I’m postponing decisions until I hear from his kids, which might get tricky. It’s hard to say at this point.”

“As I understand it, that’s why Anna’s here. To help with the arrangements.”

“That’s just an excuse.”

William said, “Nonetheless, I’d like to offer my assistance. I have years of experience in planning the formalities. Visitation in advance and graveside services as well. A modest reception afterward would be nice.”

“I appreciate the offer. Anna won’t lift a finger, but when the time comes, we’ll chat.”

“Excellent. I understand there’s a second chap.”

“A
second
one? I don’t think so.”

“This fellow, Felix. Wasn’t he a friend of yours?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’ll pay to
bury
him. I’ve got my hands full as it is.”

William blinked in puzzlement. “Perhaps I’m mistaken. Terrence Dace was your cousin. Isn’t that correct?”

“Something of the sort.”

“As I understand it, Terrence and this Felix fellow were inseparable.”

I could feel uneasiness creeping up my spine. “I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, I don’t think they were
close
. They were both homeless and hung out at the beach, so they knew each other, but that’s about it.”

“I’m sure they’d take comfort in being together now that they’re . . .” William raised a finger and pointed heavenward.

I looked up, thinking he’d spotted the cat on a branch above our heads. When I caught his meaning, I made a face. “You’re picturing a double feature; two for the price of one.”

“If you care to think of it that way.”

I put my hand across my forehead, like I was coming down with something. “Oh, man. This is all a bit much. Let me give it some thought, okay? Dace I can accept, but I knew Felix a week and a half and I don’t think I’m responsible for his remains.”

“If the county buries him, you know it will be a miserable affair.”

“Probably.”

“Good we agree on that point. I’ll put together my suggestions before we meet again. I’m sure we can fashion a program satisfactory to everyone.”

•   •   •

I abandoned the idea of Rosie’s and retreated to my studio, undone by the sudden prospects of tandem funerals. During the conversation with William, I hadn’t heard my phone ring, but as I closed the door behind me, I saw the message light winking on my answering machine. I turned on my desk lamp and took a seat. I pressed play and listened to my outgoing recorded greeting, wishing I didn’t sound quite so adenoidal.

A young-sounding fellow said, “Hi, Kinsey. Sorry I missed you. This is Drew from the car wash. Wonder of wonders. My friend finally paid me back, so I’m flush. Give me a call and we’ll see what we can work out.”

He recited his number.

I had no idea who he was or what he was talking about. Sounded like an anonymous drug deal gone wrong except he’d used my first name and I don’t do drugs. Okay, except for NyQuil when I have a cold, but that’s commercially marketed and doesn’t count. What car wash? What money? I listened to the message a second time and comprehension dawned. The guy at the car wash . . . oh,
that
guy. Drew was the one who’d admired my Boss 429 a lifetime ago. When I’d offered to sell the car for the five grand I paid, he expressed interest, but I hadn’t taken him seriously. I still hoped to get rid of the car, but not just now. In order to off-load the Mustang, I’d have to line up another vehicle, which might take weeks. You don’t just run out and buy the first car that catches your fancy. That’s how I’d acquired the Mustang and look what a dumb move that was.

I tried Drew’s number, which was busy. I left the scratch pad in plain sight to remind myself to try him again.

I peered out of the window. William still sat in the sun, his head back, his eyes closed, this time with Ed on his lap. The cat stood and stared into William’s face intently, perhaps mistaking him for dead. I was praying nobody else would die or I’d have three funerals on my hands. To appease my jangled sensibilities, I made myself another hot hard-boiled-egg sandwich with a line of mayonnaise so thick it looked like a slice of cheese. The copious amounts of salt I shook onto the mayonnaise glistened like artificial snow. I knew if I’d gone to Rosie’s right then, I’d have ordered a glass of wine just to settle my nerves. As often as I thought of Dace, I kept forgetting he was dead. Not only dead, but related to me and I was charged with his care. In the “olden” days when I longed for family—which I’d now thoroughly repented—I always pictured living persons instead of the other kind. Now I had some of each.

I finished lunch and put a call through to the service station to inquire about my tire. The attendant seemed surprised to hear from me and it was clear he’d forgotten. Happily, the mechanic in the service bay had taken care of it. I drove the four blocks and read a comic book while the newly repaired tire was swapped out for the spare. While the mechanic was at it, he insisted on rotating and balancing the tires, a process I had little patience with but endured nonetheless.

When I got home, I scurried through the backyard like a thief, unlocking my door in haste. It would only be a matter of time before Anna came knocking on my door, trying to con me out of who knows what.

I settled on the sofa with a book, pausing to peek out the window now and then to see if William was still there. For a while he remained, making notes on the back of an envelope. The afternoon stretched on. When I found myself sliding down on the sofa, I pulled a quilt over me for warmth. For unpaid time off, due to lack of work, this was close to perfect. All the comforts of home and it wasn’t costing me a cent. Next thing I knew, I’d drifted off to sleep.

Of course I didn’t hear from Dietz. I couldn’t believe he was so clueless when it came to his son. I’ve never even had a kid and I still had a better sense of what was going on. It was natural for Nick to be territorial. Not that there was any reason to be alarmed. Dietz and I were not an item. In the ebb and flow of our relationship, the tide was usually going out. I’d thought of Dietz as a gadabout, a freewheeling soul whose ties were few and whose life was his own. But nobody with kids can evade the commitment indefinitely. Dietz had lived as though he had no one to answer to. Naomi had stepped into the breach for him and filled the parenting role. Now that she was gone, he was “it.” Apparently, he hadn’t twigged to the fact that Nick and Graham would be looking to him for guidance, companionship, and spare cash. For the first time in all the years I’d known him—five by my count—I saw Dietz as a man with baggage. In the singles world, “baggage” is a dirty word, denoting ex-wives, double mortgages, spousal support, writs, liens, offspring of all ages, split-vacation time, alternating holidays, family-counseling sessions, attorneys’ fees, PTA conferences, private schools, college tuition, accusations, court appearances, and vicious spats on every conceivable subject, including any new relationship the offending parent was engaged in that the other parent objected to.

In my brief fling with Jonah Robb I’d had a taste of this. I was relegated to the wings, a peripheral character in the play that he and his wife/ex-wife had produced, cast, and starred in from seventh grade until the present. I’d bowed out in short order, smart enough to realize I’d never count for anything where he and Camilla were concerned. Let’s not even talk about his two girls, whose names I still had trouble remembering. Courtney might have been one. This new development with Dietz didn’t bode well for anyone. Nick had figured that out the first time he laid eyes on me.

It wasn’t until after dark that I roused myself, brushed my teeth, doused my flattened hair with water, and ventured out. I couldn’t help but check Henry’s house, where I could see lights on in his kitchen, his back bedroom windows aglow as well. I should have warned him about Anna, but how did I know she’d show up unannounced?

I headed for Rosie’s. I knew William would be tending bar, but I didn’t think he’d raise the subject of any postlife ceremonials as long as she was nearby. Rosie has no patience for his fascination with the festive aspects of our mortality. As I pushed the door open, I spotted her sitting at one of the tables near the back, getting her nails done. Anna had brought her manicure supplies, which she’d spread across the Formica surface: buffers, emery boards, files, cuticle scissors, and bottles of nail polish. Was
that
why she and Henry had gone to the beauty-supply place? She was already taking scandalous advantage of him. Rosie’s hands rested on a fresh white towel, a reservoir of warm soapy water nearby. She seemed pleased with the attention, sending me a shy smile in behalf of this lovely relative of mine.

Fine, I thought. Far be it from me to say a word. They’d all have to figure it out for themselves.

I slid into my usual back booth, which was much too close to Anna’s “work station.”

She turned sulky at the sight of me. “I’m earning a living here if it’s all the same to you,” she said.

“What a refreshing change,” said I, in response.

When Rosie’s nails were done, she got up and sidled in my direction. Her garish pink polish was still drying, so she couldn’t use her order pad. She blew on her nails from time to time while she dictated the dinner fare. This is what I ate through no desire of my own.
Paprikás Ponty
(paprika carp, in case you hadn’t heard) with a side of sweet-and-sour cabbage. Also, a dish made with onion, green peppers, tomatoes, and a tablespoon of sugar, tossed together and fried in a dollop of lard. Oh, boy. I was just cleaning sauce from my plate, using the crust of one of Henry’s homemade rolls, when I looked up and saw Cheney Phillips coming in the door. He made a quick visual survey and when he spotted me sitting in the back booth he headed in my direction. Now what, I thought.

Anna had packed her equipment and she was reaching for her jacket when she caught sight of him. Cheney Phillips was, no doubt, the first Santa Teresa stud she’d clapped eyes on. She sat down again.

He slid in across from me. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“No reason in particular. Your name came up in conversation today. I was in the neighborhood so I stopped by. You look good.”

“Thanks. So do you.” I glanced at Anna, who was looking at Cheney as though she’d like to nibble him around the edges. I was hoping he wouldn’t catch sight of those blue eyes of hers, not to mention the boobs.

Rosie appeared at the table, order pad in hand. She’s irresistibly drawn to attractive men, and while she’s wildly flirtatious she’d never look one in the eye. She made sure her newly polished nails were handsomely displayed while she kept her gaze pinned on mine. “Your friend would care for liquid refreshment, perhaps?” Her Hungarian accent was particularly pronounced that night.

I looked at Cheney. “Are you working or do you want a drink?” I said by way of translation. There was no question about what she’d asked, but I knew she’d appreciate my intercession.

Cheney said, “Ask her if she has Dreher Bak or Ko˝bányai Világos.”

Rosie waited patiently until I repeated his request and then said, “Is good. Preference is excellent and I’m bringing Ko˝bányai Világos.”

I said, “Why don’t you give Anna a plate of
Paprikás Ponty
. I think she’d enjoy it. My treat.”

Rosie said, “For the lovely Anna, is good.”

As she glided away, Cheney smiled, showing a flash of white teeth. I hadn’t seen him recently and I looked at him with an air of detachment. His hair was in need of a cut. He was clean-shaven and smelled of soap, which I’m always a sucker for. He wore a caramel-colored turtleneck under the sort of sport coat you want to reach out and touch. The fabric looked like suede and the color was a smoky chocolate brown. I know it’s very naughty to compare one man to the next, but with Dietz lurking in the background, I couldn’t help myself. If Jonah Robb had wandered in just then, I’d have found myself in range of the three men I’d slept with in the last six years. I’m not at all promiscuous. Far from it. I’m largely celibate, which is not to say I’m immune from temptation. Technically speaking, with three guys, that’s only one every other year, but it still seemed alarming for someone with my old-fashioned values and a well-developed self-protective streak.

At least I could see tangible evidence of my taste in men. While the three of them looked nothing alike, they were smart guys, good souls, competent, well seasoned, and knowledgeable. All of us were involved in law enforcement to one extent or another—Cheney and Jonah more so than Dietz and me. Temperamentally, we were all compatible—competitive, but good-natured enough that we could have formed a bowling team or played a few hands of bridge, assuming any of us knew how.

Rosie reappeared and placed a paper coaster on the table, then set a freezer-chilled clear glass mug in the center. She placed a beer bottle beside the mug. “Does your friend want I should pour?”