A Catered Mother's Day (23 page)

Chapter 44

A
lthough Bernie and Libby had arrived at the park ten minutes early, Sandra was already there. Bernie spotted her immediately. She was leaning against the swings, sipping what appeared to be an iced coffee. When she saw Libby and Bernie, she waved and Bernie waved back. Then she and Libby threaded their way through the playing children, the strollers, and the joggers. The sun was setting, highlighting the sailboats moored on the Hudson River and haloing the clouds in the west.

“It's supposed to rain,” Sandra said to Bernie and Libby when they got closer.

“But not for a while,” Bernie replied. “Thanks for talking to us.”

“You're welcome.” Sandra inclined her head and took another sip of her coffee. “I like watching the kiddies,” she remarked. “They don't think. They just do.”

“I suppose that's true,” Libby replied.

She watched Sandra watch a five-year-old girl shrieking in delight as her eight-year-old brother chased her around a park bench. As she did, Libby reflected that Sandra looked twenty years younger than she had looked back at the Roost. The hardness in her face had dissolved. Maybe it was because she'd left her makeup off and pulled her hair back in a low ponytail, or maybe it was because she was wearing a mint green shirtdress that belled out in the breeze, or maybe it was because she was smiling. She had, Libby decided, a nice smile.

“You look nice,” Libby found herself saying.

Sandra grinned. “I'm off to my new life. Farming.”

“Farming?” Libby repeated, nonplussed.

“Yeah. I know. Go figure. Weird, isn't it? But I met someone—Doug—through the
Agricultural Gazette
. He's looking for a wife, and well, I'm hoping it'll work out.”

“You're going to live on a farm?” Bernie said. She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

“Yup.” Sandra tugged at her ponytail. “The funny thing is that I always wanted to be on a farm when I was little. My aunt had a dairy farm around Saratoga and I just adored going there.”

“You've met this guy in person though, right?” Bernie asked.

Sandra laughed. “Oh yes. I'm not that crazy. First we talked on the phone and then we Skyped, and last month he came up for a week. Now he's back and we're driving across country to Bozeman. He's got two sons—a six- and an eight-year-old who need a mother—and I'm hoping I'll be it.” Sandra's eyes misted. She blinked the tears away and took another sip of her coffee.

Bernie thought back to what Thelma had said earlier. “Does Thelma know you're leaving?” she asked.

Sandra laughed. “Of course she does.”

“Because I got the impression she didn't,” Bernie said.

“You mean what she said about seeing me leave and giving me a message?” Sandra asked.

Bernie nodded.

“She was just covering for me in case I didn't want to talk to you. As a matter of fact, Thelma thinks I should go. I mean why not? At this point I've got nothing to lose. I can always come back if things don't work out.”

“Like Manny did,” Bernie said, and then instantly regretted it. “I'm sorry. That came out wrong.”

“It's okay.” Sandra went over and threw her coffee cup in the trash can. “But this is different. Manny didn't come back because things weren't working out for him,” Sandra explained. “Manny came back because Daisy asked him to.” She studied a mourning dove pecking at a piece of hot dog roll someone had left on the path. “So sad,” she murmured, and she lapsed into silence.

“Why did she do that—ask him back?” Bernie finally asked.

Sandra roused herself. “I don't think she ever got over him. She followed him out West when he left and that sure didn't work out. I think it was losing the baby that did it—she was never the same afterward.” Sandra stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Maybe her illness was there all along and it would have come out anyway—at least that's what Isaac and Mina say—but that just put her over the edge.” Sandra took a deep breath and let it out. “You know technology can be a wonderful thing. It brought Doug and I together, but if Daisy hadn't looked up Manny online and started texting him, he never would have come back here and maybe he'd still be alive.” She shrugged. “Jeremy was dead set against it from the start, but Isaac thought it might cheer Daisy up.”

“And did it?” Libby asked.

“In the beginning. Even though it wasn't the same as before between those two. The romance thing had died. But Daisy liked having Manny around. She thought she could trust him.”

“And could she?” Libby asked.

Sandra smoothed down her T-shirt. “I thought she could up until the day he didn't show up. She couldn't get him on the phone. Now I know why, of course, but I didn't know that then and neither did Daisy. She waited and waited, but Manny and the lawyer never showed. It was bad. Daisy freaked. She wanted to go out looking for him and the people at the Pines had to give her a shot to calm her down.”

“Why did Daisy need a lawyer?” Bernie asked as she shook a pebble out of her ballet flat.

Sandra shrugged. “I don't know. You'd have to ask Isaac.”

“How was he involved?” Libby asked.

“He was setting up something for Daisy. A trust, maybe.”

Bernie raised an eyebrow. “Daisy wasn't related to him, was she?”

“No,” she answered. “She wasn't, but he and Mina had taken her under their wing after her folks died. Even before that, because she and her family . . . well, let's just say they put the
D
in dysfunctional. But you'll have to talk to Isaac. I really don't know anything about what he was planning on doing. Isaac was pretty closemouthed about stuff like that.” Sandra brushed a mosquito away from her face. “I think he had a lot more money than he let on.”

“I'd love to ask him,” Bernie said, “but he and Mina are off on a fishing trip somewhere in Alaska.”

“Really?” Sandra looked surprised. “They never said anything about that to me. I guess that explains why I haven't been able to get hold of them to say good-bye,” she said ruefully. “Weird.”

“Why weird?” Libby asked.

“Because they said they'd be around. It's not like they're seventeen and taking off on a whim or anything like that. Well, I'll guess there's always the phone.”

“Or Skype,” Bernie added.

“They don't do Skype. Or cell phones. Are you sure you heard right?”

“Yeah, positive,” Bernie said. “I guess you could call Cole up and ask.”

“Who's Cole?”

“The guy running the place now.”

“Cole?” Sandra frowned “Usually Isaac has the Dean brothers take care of the Riverview. I wonder what happened.”

Bernie and Libby looked at each other. They could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

“Call the Dean brothers up and ask them,” Bernie told her.

“Why?” Sandra asked. “You think something's wrong.”

“Probably not,” Bernie lied. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Sure.” Sandra reached for her phone and called the brothers. “They didn't know that Isaac and Mina were gone,” she said when she hung up. She shrugged. “I'm sure everything is fine. I'm probably making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Probably,” Libby agreed, but she couldn't shake the bad feeling she was getting. She sensed it was the same feeling Bernie had. “We're going by there anyway, so we'll take a look.”

Sandra looked at her watch. “Gotta go. I told Doug I'd be back in half an hour to help finish loading.” She impulsively hugged Bernie and Libby. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Bernie and Libby chorused.

Sandra grinned. “I'm going to need it.”

There was a clap of thunder, the heavens opened up, and everyone ran for their vehicles.

“I give her a lot of credit,” Bernie said as she blotted the water out of her hair with a paper towel. “I don't think I could do what she's doing.”

“Me either,” Libby agreed.

“So what do you think?” Bernie asked her sister.

Libby sneezed. “About Cole? Nothing good.”

“Ditto,” Bernie said. She sneezed too.

“I hope we're wrong,” Libby said.

“Me too,” Bernie said.

“Cole seemed so nice too,” Libby observed.

“Too nice, Libby. Too nice. If they seem too good to be true, that's because they are too good to be true.”

Libby turned to her. “What are those—words to live by?”

“Pretty much,” Bernie told her. “At least in my experience.”

Chapter 45

L
ibby and Bernie watched the rain pelting down on the windshield. It had been doing that ever since they'd left the park twenty minutes ago.

“It's got to quit,” Libby said.

Bernie briefly stopped digging around in her bag for her brush. “It will sooner or later.”

“Sooner would be better.”

“Agreed,” Bernie said after she'd found the brush and redone her ponytail.

She and Libby were sitting in front of the office of the Riverview Motel. The place was empty. Mathilda was the only vehicle in the lot. Looking out the window, Bernie could see the inside lights were on and the OPEN sign, blurred in the rain, was blinking red. She'd tried calling the motel but no one had picked up and the call had gone straight to voice mail.

“Maybe Cole went to do an errand,” Libby said.

“Maybe,” Bernie answered. She sat there watching the rain come down.

“We should call Clyde,” Libby said.

Bernie turned to her. “And tell him what?”

“Good point.” Libby worried her cuticle, realized what she was doing, and stopped. What Bernie said was true. Everything she and her sister were thinking was wildly speculative. “There's probably a simple explanation.”

“Probably,” Bernie said.

“But you don't think so?”

“Let's just say I hope there is,” replied Bernie.

Libby sighed. “Me too.”

“On the other hand,” Bernie began, “I can think of another explanation.”

And she began to talk. By the time she was done the rain had become a gentle patter on the van windshield. A few minutes later, the rain had stopped entirely and Libby and Bernie got out of Mathilda and headed toward the office. The door was open and they stepped inside.

Once again Bernie thought about how the office looked the way she remembered it looking. Nothing had changed. The old faux wood paneling was still on the walls, the pamphlets touting local attractions, half of which were no longer in existence, were still fanned out on the counter, and the little table with the coffee machine and the green ceramic bowl that was filled with chocolate chip cookies was still there. The radio that was always set to NPR was still on the counter. But it was silent now. Bernie supposed that Cole was using his iPhone instead.

“Cole,” Bernie called.

No one answered. Bernie and Libby walked to the counter and peered over it. There were two empty paper coffee cups and a half-eaten taco on the desk.

“Well, he was here,” Libby said. She sniffed. There was that odor again. “Maybe he's fixing something in one of the rooms.”

“Maybe,” Bernie said as she stepped around the counter and began rummaging through the desk. There was nothing much in there except a half-empty jar of aspirin, some paper clips, a small notepad, some pens, and a small lock. She took the lock out and weighed it in her hand. The bad feeling that she'd had talking to Sandra got worse. “Look at this,” she said, holding the lock up.

Libby studied it for a moment. It was the old-fashioned kind and she'd seen it before. “It looks like the lock Isaac had on his freezer,” she noted.

“Exactly,” Bernie said. “Remember the key we saw in Clara Randall's kitchen?”

“The one with the note from Isaac telling her to take some salmon?”

“Yes, that one.”

Libby thought about what Clyde had said about Manny's body being stored somewhere cold. “Manny would fit in Isaac's freezer, wouldn't he?”

“It would be tight, but I think he would.”

“Oh boy,” Libby said. “I don't feel so good.”

“I could be reaching,” Bernie said.

“I hope you are,” Libby said as she walked into the back room.

The light was on, casting a yellowish sheen over everything. The cot looked as if someone had taken a nap on it recently and the trash can was half full of more takeout coffee cups and fast-food wrappers. The aroma she'd smelled out front was stronger in here. What was it? Not being able to name it was driving her crazy. She knew she knew what it was. She'd smelled it before; she just couldn't put a name to the blasted scent.

While she was trying to identify it, Bernie stepped into the room and pointed to a long covered object standing up in the corner of the room. “I bet that's Isaac's fishing pole,” she said as she went over and unzipped the nylon cover. Isaac's name was clearly printed on the inside in block letters. “Yup. It is.”

“Maybe he has more than one,” Libby offered up.

“Maybe,” Bernie said.

After all, it was possible. It was even probable. Bernie told herself she was becoming a Nervous Nelly like her sister. She took the rod out. The first thing she noticed was that the nylon line on the reel had unspooled. It hung down in a tangled mass. Feeling more and more disquieted, she found the end and looked at it. Then she showed the end to Libby.

“It's been cut,” Libby noted.

“Exactly,” Bernie said. “You said Manny was garroted. Using fishing line would have the same result.”

Libby bit her lip. “Do you think Mina and Isaac are still alive?”

“I hope so, but I wouldn't count on it,” Bernie replied, her tone grim. Something else occurred to her. “I think we need to go to Isaac's house and look at the freezer in the garage.”

“I'll go with you,” Libby told her, “but I'm not opening the locker up, because if there's . . . anything . . . in there I'll have nightmares for the next year.”

“Get a grip. Manny is in the morgue. They're releasing his body for burial next week.”

“I wasn't thinking of him,” Libby informed her sister. “I was thinking of Isaac and Mina.”

Bernie shuddered. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck go up. Somehow that hadn't occurred to her.