What Evil Lurks in Monet's Pond: A (10 page)

“Right. Oh, right, that’s a good idea,
Maisie. Sure, I’ll come for dinner.”

“Tell you what. Turn on the news, listen to a
story about the case, and then call Nora’s landline. Explain how
worried you are because Alberta and Bowie might be in danger. And
then....”

“I forgot about Bowie being up there, too.
Now I have an even better excuse to visit.” Poor Marty. He jumped
at the chance to take the job. He jumped at the chance to see his
wife. He jumped at the chance to use his son as his explanation to
see his wife. I wondered if Alberta would blow this big opportunity
by being her usual dumb A.S.S. self.

“Any questions?” I asked my pupil.

“No. None at all. But, Maisie, I would like
to say one thing.”

“What’s that, Marty?”

“Thanks for calling me. And thanks for not
hating me for leaving Alberta.”

“Marty, whatever happens between the two of
you, it’s your relationship to work out. I can’t fix what’s broken.
That’s something you have to decide to do together. You can both
get bitter and nasty or you can eat a slice of humble pie and
decide that you both need to make the effort. Who knows? You might
find you still separate, but without all the animosity. It’s really
all about respect, isn’t it? Make it a priority for both you and
Alberta, and I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

“Sage advice,” he decided.

“Not bad considering I’m the single one,
right?” Lord knows Alberta had thrown that in my face many times
over the years. I heard a soft chuckle on the other end of the
line. “Bye, Marty.”

“Bye, Maisie.”

About twenty minutes later, I heard the house
phone ring as I sat working on my laptop in the library. I was
trying to write out my theory of what happened at the Tattinger, so
I could present it to Lieutenant Gromski. I needed him to pass it
to the FBI, so that Ross could be consulted on the case. The dogs
were curled up together in front of the fireplace on Elmore’s dog
pillow. Alberta and Bowie were playing backgammon at the table.

“Marty? Hi,” I heard Nora say. Alberta’s head
shot up faster than a gourmand at a comfort food festival.

“Marty? Is Nora talking to Marty? Is that
your father on the phone?”

“Relax,” Bowie told his mother. “Be cool.
Don’t be too anxious. Make him sweat.”

Oh, great. Advice from the peanut gallery.
What is it with only children that compels them to act like
personal advisers to whichever parent feels most alienated? It’d be
one thing if they actually had the training to provide sound
advice, but this boy was about to throw another wedge between his
parents, one that could ruin everything. Alberta was an only child,
too, and she used to get right in the middle of her parents’
arguments. Probably part of the reason her parents split when she
was fourteen. She hated to be the third wheel, so she always
scooted right into the center of every event. Maybe that’s why
she’s such a butt-in-ski now. It never occurs to her that hers
isn’t always the right answer. All it takes is a lot of confidence
and a loud voice, and suddenly you’re an expert.

Me, on the other hand -- I come from a family
of four kids, and the last thing my parents ever asked for was our
opinion on their marriage. We were never consulted because my
parents left us out of their discussions, arguments, and the
occasional shouting match. To them, we were kids, and we were told
to butt out and go play on more occasions than I care to recall. It
didn’t really matter to them how strongly we felt about the subject
or what we wanted to offer in the way of advicd.

“What do I say to him? I don’t want to seem
too eager. After all, he’s the one who left....” Alberta was
talking out loud, and I saw Bowie poised to take the wheel.
No
way I’m letting you drive, pal. You’re too young, too
inexperienced.

“Allie,” I interrupted, “this is between you
and Marty. You don’t need us to put words in your mouth.”

“I disagree,” Bowie started to say, but I
gave him my best imitation of a Vulcan death grip as I reached out
a hand in the direction of his overzealous face. He immediately
backed away before I could grab that nose.

“I will remind you that pride goeth before a
fall, Alberta, so consider your true feelings and what you really
want. Don’t blow it. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Bowie and I are
going for a walk.”

“We are?” The young man looked rather
confused. I could see he expected to be part of his parents’
discussion, and the thought of letting his parents solve their own
issues was disconcerting to him.

“We are. Let’s grab the dogs.”

Chapter Eleven --

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving my mother
on her own,” he told me as we passed through the kitchen. Nora
looked up from her work.

“Nora, tell Bowie here how many times we
helped Mom and Dad settle their arguments.”

“What?”

“How often did Mom and Dad consult us on
their problems?”

“What are you talking about, Maisie? They
never asked for our opinions. They told us to butt out.”

“Thanks,” I grinned. “What do you know,
Bowie? Not every kid is a referee for parents.”

“Yes, but my mother....”

“...is an adult who needs to handle her own
problems. You’re the kid. It’s not your job to get in the middle.
It’s your job to be the kid.” I grabbed my coat from the mud room
and threw it on, waiting for him to do the same. He was fighting
with himself, torn between getting involved and backing off.

“Yes, but my father’s caused my mother a lot
of heartache. He left her, you know.” One arm was in the coat
sleeve. I waved him into the next.

“I do know, Bowie. I also know your mother is
a very opinionated, strong-willed woman who doesn’t always think
things through. And I know your father isn’t always good at
expressing his feelings. All the more reason for you to stay out of
it. Let them figure out what they want in their marriage, or if
they should, heaven forbid, decide to go their separate ways, let
them remain civil in their communications. It’s not your place to
tell them what to do or how to do it. They need to take
responsibility for their own relationship.”

“But....”

“The world will not fall apart if you are not
there to handle things for them, Bowie. You have your own issues to
work on, and your own life to live. Which brings me to my next
question for you. What are you studying and what are your plans
when you graduate?”

We were headed down to the small stream that
passed through the property, away from where that body was
discovered. As we covered the distance, I glanced at the young man
beside me. He was so much taller these days, no longer the little
boy of long ago. Now he was the college student with the air of
confidence, but I saw it slip slightly. Bowie was worried.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked him.

“It’s nothing.”

“Talk to me. I want to know.”

“It’s just that my dad...he’s changed over
the last few months.”

“He’s had a lot on his mind. Your mom told me
he lost his job.”

“It’s more than that. He’s doing odd
things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, he spends a lot of time online. And he’s
stopped paying all the bills.”

“What do you mean he’s stopped paying all the
bills?”

“I can’t take the trip to France next
semester, because he won’t pay for it.”

“Well, did you try getting the money another
way?”

“Like how, ask Nana for it?”

I groaned, rubbing my forehead. Was the boy
really this thick?

“Do you have a part-time job?”

“Why would I have a part-time job? Now you
sound like my dad! He wanted my mother to go to work, too. But it’s
his job to pay the bills.”

“Really? And what’s your job?” I was
curious.

“I’m supposed to get good grades, Maisie.
That’s my responsibility.”

“Seriously?” Looking him right in the eye, I
confronted him. “Bowie, you’re just too old for this kind of
nonsense. Do you have any clue what you’re doing to your
father?”

“I’m not doing anything! He’s the one
screwing up!”

“You think your dad is responsible for taking
care of you, like you have nothing to contribute to your own life.
You should be working in the summers to build up your bank account,
so you can buy books and take those special trips. You’re not five
years old anymore. You’re almost an adult. It’s time to join the
adult world, pal. If you want to take those trips, you’re going to
have to come up with the extra money.” I shook my head sadly. “No
wonder your dad left.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped,
his anger just barely contained.

“It means that he’s not a person to you. He’s
not someone with hopes and dreams. He’s the guy who pays all the
bills, who works all the time, so you can play. You get to be the
perpetual kid, happy when the world is your oyster, angry and upset
when all your plans are falling apart. What about his plans? What
about what he wants?”

“What he wants?”

“Bowie, your father is more than just a meal
ticket for you to punch. You know all about your mother’s feelings,
but you think your dad doesn’t have any. That’s a very one-sided
relationship, isn’t it? The guy never had a chance.”

We walked in silence, each of us lost in
thought. Poor Marty. He had been the family joke for so long, and
all the guy had been trying to do was survive. No wonder Alberta
and Bowie took him for granted. He never spoke up because there was
no one to listen.

Elmore and Gesso trotted along beside us as
we turned back towards the house. Bowie was especially distant,
taking his emotional ball out of the game and stumbling back to his
invisible home. I let him feel what he was going to feel, knowing I
couldn’t change that. But if I did nothing else today, at least I
could take comfort in the fact that for one brief moment, he had to
think about his father as a man.

When we reached the driveway, Bowie swiped
his eyes with his hands and I realized the kid was actually crying.
I held back on the comfort front, knowing it was time to let him be
a man.

“I never thought about all that stuff,” he
confessed. “You know, my dad tried to explain to me why we have to
sell the house, but I didn’t understand it. I thought it was
because he wanted a new family.”

I took a deep breath. Might as well jump in
with both feet. “Why do you think your dad wants a new family?”

“Because he hates us.”

“Does he? Is that what he said?”

“No, but he left. Why would he leave if he
loved us?”

“Maybe he felt like he wasn’t important, like
he was suffocating under all that responsibility for you and your
mom. No one wants to be the only one to hold up the world, Bowie.
People need to be needed, but there has to be balance,” I told him.
“There has to be cooperation and mutual support.”

“My dad doesn’t need me.” Even as he said
that, I was already correcting him.

“What? Does that even make sense to you? Why
wouldn’t your dad need you?”

“To do what? All he ever does is work. Only
now he doesn’t have a job.”

“Bowie, you and your dad need to get out and
have some fun together. I don’t care what it is you do, but go be
with him. Do something you both enjoy. And then, when you’re done
doing it, tell me it didn’t make the world a little brighter and
your heart a little happier.”

“He won’t go,” said the maudlin young man,
obviously full of self-pity.

“How do you know if you don’t ask him?”

“He’ll just say no.”

“Tell him you need this. Tell him it
matters.”

“But how, Maisie? He doesn’t live with us
anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t find time for
you.” I took his arm in mine and leaned against him. “You have to
make the relationships you want in life, Bowie. Don’t ever take
them for granted or assume that people know what you want and how
you want it. And don’t forget that other people have needs too, and
those needs aren’t always just like ours. You have to listen with
your heart.”

Once again, I dragged out that sage advice.
Let’s hope I can follow it myself. Don’t let me blow things with
Ross. I’m tired of always being on the road. I want to come home. I
want to feel I belong in my own life.

“There’s a car coming,” said Bowie, pointing
towards the road. Too soon for Marty. Was it Ross? My heart caught
in my throat as a glimmer of hope rose, but alas, no. Not Ross. It
was a blue Mazda Miata sedan. I didn’t recognize the woman at the
wheel, but she certainly looked determined.

Bowie and I watched her pull her car up to
the walkway of the front door. When she got out, with her fur coat
and her black jeans, I knew instantly that I was looking at Anna
Szabo. What was she doing here at Bothwell Castle?

“Who’s that?” Bowie’s testosterone kicked in,
as did his curiosity. “She’s a fox!”

“Foxes can bite. And they can carry rabies,”
I pointed out to the eager young man as I scooped up the nervous
Gesso. Elmore trotted up to the car, tail wagging. The woman
ignored him. Very telling. Never trust anyone who ignores a
friendly dog. Meanwhile, Bowie lost no time. He hurried to meet her
before she reached the door.

“Hi!”

“Hi, yourself.” There was no warmth in that
greeting. Expectation, maybe. Calculation, definitely.

“Can I help you?” The eager young man pulled
himself up to his full height.

“I am looking for Nora Johnson.”

“And you are?” I stepped into the
conversation, wanting the details.

“Are you Nora?” Her tone was disdainful,
dismissive. Her hair was very blonde, very curly, and very trendy.
Her makeup was flawless, but troweled on so thick, I couldn’t see
any actual skin.

“And you are?” I repeated myself.

“I am here to see Nora.” Obviously, she knew
I was not my sister. I was still certain I was looking at Anna
Szabo.