Closet Confidential (31 page)

“No need to be nasty,” I said.

There was no more talk of dates, and that was fine by me as I left, head as high as I could hold it, rolling the suitcase behind me. As I walked through the front door this time, one of the cops shouted out from the back of the house. “Looks like whoever it was got the security tapes. Didn’t want to leave an image of himself.” I wasn’t sure which cop was talking. I wondered briefly if Nick had taken the tape. After all, what did he have to lose by being on the tape? No, my money was on someone else.

Tierney was right behind me. The key jingling was truly annoying by this time. I had just opened my mouth to suggest that the tape must have been taken by the person who kicked the door in, when he said, “By the way, did Nick have his cell phone with him?”

I blinked. “Yes, it rang and when he saw it was you, he turned it off.”

He said, “So he has that phone? Good. We have evidence that a text was sent from Nick’s phone to Pepper’s twenty-five minutes before you found her at Bakker Beach. That’s about enough time for her to drive out there, get attacked, and have you arrive. Still think Nick didn’t have anything to do with that?”

Of course, there was no way to get into Pepper’s hospital room at that time of night. And it was too late to bring back Rose’s car and collect the Matrix. I drove home, tired and worried. To my surprise, Jack was heading up my staircase with Little Nick in tow. “We’ve been watching the full moon in the backyard until the little dude fell asleep. It was awesome.”

The baby’s eyes popped open at the sound of Jack’s voice.

“We dropped off to see the little dude’s mom, didn’t we fella?” Jack said.

“How is she?”

“Glad to see us. And maybe not quite herself.” Jack paused. “Little dude reacted a bit to her face. Those injuries were horrible. How could anyone do that to Pepper?”

“I have no idea how. Or who.”

“Did you know she’s trying to make sure someone locates her parents to tell them not to come to town? I can’t imagine doing that.”

“Think back, Jack. It will all make sense. Contrast your wonderful childhood and her horrible one.”

For the first time, I asked myself if that was why Pepper valued Nick: He didn’t hit her, he didn’t physically intimidate her or put her down. He was no prize, but maybe he was what she needed. But what do I know?

Jack said, “Oh right. I guess it’s hard to understand what it was like to grow up in her family.”

“Yes, and by the way, you have some kind of green baby food in your hair,” I said helpfully. “I’m not sure that’s a good look for you.”

“All part of the package.”

“What package?”

“The practice daddy package. Babies are complicated. I think I needed more training, but we’re keeping afloat. Aren’t we, little dude?”

The child did seem happy enough. But how long would that last? I wondered if Jack would be cured of his baby fantasies by the time Pepper got home.

I said, “I ordered pizza. You need to keep your strength up if you’re going to keep doing this.”

“Why wouldn’t I keep doing it? I love this little dude, and it’s mutual, in a nonverbal way. I’m here as long as he needs me. I rearranged CYCotics to make it a bit more baby friendly.”

“Huh,” I said.

“And I thought of a new product line.”

“What?”

“You know if I had one of those baby trailers for my bike I could take the little dude to work without stuffing him into the car. So I ordered them for the shop.”

“Let me repeat. Huh. Oh wait, there’s more. If Pepper ever got wind of you driving her baby through the streets of Woodbridge in a canvas-sided conveyance on the back of a bike, you would have to find Nick and join him in hiding. I would then have to start hoping that you were alive, too. Don’t you think I have enough to worry about already, Jack?”

“I’ll let you worry about that. I’m going to try to attract young parents in, try the family promotion. Expand a bit from the racing and mountain-biking crowd. It still needs work, but we’ll get there.”

Luckily the pizza arrived and ended that conversation. I told myself that tomato sauce was a vegetable and anchovies were fish and so Jack and I were on the right track. I watched Jack reading to Little Nick from one of my shoe catalogues. He was making up a pretty good tale about Mr. and Mrs. Shoe and all the little sneakers. I let my mind wander. Truffle and Sweet Marie had gone from apprehensive to jealous to bitter and were ignoring me, although I was totally available to them. My mind drifted back to Pepper. How had it come to be that we had her baby in my apartment in the care of the two most unparent-like adults I could imagine? And even more worrisome, what would happen to Pepper? What
had
happened to her? And on a less important note, what were all those photos of me about?

I reminded myself not to dwell on the box in Jack’s so-called closet. I had bigger issues to worry about.

Eventually Jack conked out on the sofa, which came as no surprise. Little Nick fell asleep beside him and didn’t wake up when I placed him gently in his portable crib, safe from any territorial behavior by the pooches. I placed myself in the bathtub with a large capful of jasmine-scented bath salts and a new mix on the iPod. I tried to let the strains of the day slip away.

I should have known better. Lounging in the bathtub always triggers buried thoughts. Sure enough, they rose to the surface. Pepper was so badly injured, it was highly unlikely she could have locked the doors of the Edge. The person hit her but didn’t shoot her. Why? Crime of passion? Impulse? Or just didn’t have a gun? How had the person gotten close to her in the first place if it wasn’t Nick? Was Nick right, that the purpose of this attack was to get Pepper? If so, I figured there was a second purpose and that was to frame Nick for the attack. I had no clue who would want to frame Nick, but I was pretty sure that same person had kicked in the door of Pepper and Nick’s house. I couldn’t imagine any woman I’d ever met striking Pepper that way. And most women wouldn’t have the physical strength to kick in that door. But this was playing the odds. I had no idea who the attacker was. But this would-be killer knew Pepper and Nick and must have had something to gain by harming one or both. An angry husband perhaps? Someone who might want revenge for one of Nick’s poaching parties? I couldn’t rule this out. Or a criminal? There would be great satisfaction in bringing down two members of Woodbridge’s foremost police families. Something else struck me: That person saw me arrive at Bakker Beach and stole my car. Did he or she think that I might be a witness? My address was on my documents in the glove compartment. Was I in danger, too? In that case, was Jack? Or Little Nick? What should I do about that?

I glanced at the clock. Should I mention this latest series of brain waves to Connor Tierney? It was close to midnight by this time. How would he interpret a phone call from me? And would he take it seriously? Or would he have it all figured out by this point?

I got out of the bath less relaxed than I went in. Jack was still snoring on the sofa, and I didn’t want to wake him up, although that’s not so easy to do at the best of times.

I prepared my To Do list for the next day and then chose my outfit for the morning, making sure it would be practical enough for Wendy’s project yet sufficiently elegant for the Beauchamps and—though I hated to plan for it—also suitable for television, in case I made Todd Tyrell’s news and commentary. I picked charcoal pants instead of a skirt, a fine cotton cardigan in cream, and a pair of medium heels in bronze with gladiator details.

I exfoliated my face, took care of toothies, slathered on body lotion, straightened up the living room (not including Jack and Little Nick), and found myself wide awake. I have a personal rule about not working at night, a holdover from my former job where that was the normal state of affairs. So no work. I looked around for something that needed dealing with. My apartment consists of a living room, a spacious bedroom, which includes a small office space, a tiny galley kitchen, and a vast bathroom. I am only one person and I keep it under control.

What to do?

I decided to get ahead of schedule on the routine maintenance. I packed away the last of my cool weather gear and my early spring outfits in labeled containers. I took out the rest of my summer clothing at the same time. I put aside items that wouldn’t make it another season, planning to take them with me on my next trip to the women’s shelter. I washed and pressed what needed to be freshened up.

After an hour of this, I went to bed. Every sleep trick in the book wasn’t enough to let me have a good night’s rest. My mind was whirling. I saw Pepper. I saw Nick. I saw poor Anabel. I saw people from my past, the dead and the dangerous. When I finally fell into a deep sleep somewhere around four, I was awakened by a siren. I sat up and gasped. Were we on fire? I raced into the living room, sniffing for smoke and tripping over a pair of panicked dogs.

I shrieked, “Where is it? Call 911!”

Jack sat up and yawned. “What?”

Turned out that Little Nick has quite the set of lungs. Could have fooled anyone. I guessed he’d been saving it all up for the middle of the night.

“It’s the baby, Jack. I don’t know how you could have missed hearing him screaming.”

Jack said, “The little dude? Okay, that’s all right then,” and immediately fell back to dreamland. It takes more than loud noises to bring him to full consciousness. I picked up Little Nick and tried to make soothing sounds. What had I seen Sally do with her babies? He howled as I prepared a bottle for him, desperately trying to remember how it was done. Why hadn’t I paid more attention? It all looked so natural, even easy, but apparently there are techniques.

Truffle and Sweet Marie joined us in the kitchen and barked. I took that as a suggestion that they, too, could be calmed by warm milk.

It took an hour of feeding and burping, interspersed with howling, before Little Nick settled down. In another five minutes, Truffle and Sweet Marie got their groove back. I crawled back to bed wondering how mothers do it. And why.

Shadowy figures crowded my dreams, making trouble and noise.
Go back
, they exhorted in their shadowy way.
Go back
, total strangers cried. My mother flitted through, her arm linked with an elderly French count.
Go back
, she ordered. Even Pepper had a cameo appearance.
Go back
, she whimpered.
I can’t!
I kept shouting. Naturally, all night long it was impossible to go back.

Tierney showed up in my dreams toward dawn. “Don’t even think about going back,” he said before fading into the woods at Bakker Beach.