Lye in Wait (15 page)

Back at the house we started dinner. Meghan arranged garlic and
chives, lemon slices, and cracked pepper on a salmon fillet, which
she then wrapped into a foil packet and placed in the oven. I snipped
sun-dried tomatoes into jasmine rice, added some vegetable stock,
and put the pan on the burner. Meghan dumped a package of
frozen peas into a colander in the sink and defrosted them under
cold water, while I lined the olive and toasted sesame oils, a jar of
crushed ginger, and salt on the counter for her. She juiced a lemon
and began mixing the cold pea salad, while I sliced green onions
and dug the pine nuts out of the freezer to add to the rice when
it was done cooking. Erin came in halfway through our preparations and chattered about her afternoon. I was glad to see her so
cheerful.

After eating, Erin and I cleaned up.

"Monopoly?" Meghan called from the living room. Her voice
sounded muffled. I peered around the corner and saw why: her
head was buried in the trunk where we kept games and puzzles,
and all I could see was her behind sticking in the air.

"And Clue," Erin said from beside me.

We gathered the games and spent most of the evening playing
them at the kitchen table. When Erin went to bed, Meghan began
to make her daughter's lunch, and I went upstairs to continue
going through Walter's papers.

Two hours later, I'd discovered Walter took blood pressure
medication, had gone to the Evergreen State Fair in August, had no
credit card records, paid his utility bills on time, and seemed to use
a prepaid calling card for any long distance phone calls he made.
But, other than those gems of information, I didn't find anything
worth a darn.

I SPENT MONDAY MORNING swirling together white and blue peppermint soap and white and red cinnamon soap, leaving them to
harden in the molds while I ran upstairs to don my funeral clothes.
Erin had insisted she wanted to come, so Meghan had taken her
out of school for the afternoon. We left a little early, in case the
funeral director needed to talk to us about anything before the service began.

The chapel wasn't crowded when we arrived. Two women whom
we'd seen at the funeral home the day before sat in pews halfway
back. I wondered if they were seat fillers for what could be a poorly
attended memorial. The tempo of the invisible organ music slowed
our steps up the central aisle, and the three of us slid into the second
pew. Then Tootie Hanover came through the door. Ann pushed her
wheelchair to the front and helped her get settled.

Tootie turned and nodded to us. She looked better today, wearing a simple navy dress and low-heeled pumps, her hair coiled
atop her head again, powder and rouge on her cheeks. Her dull expression still alarmed me. But when Meghan introduced Erin,
warmth sparked in Tootie's eyes. Perhaps I expected too much
from a grieving mother.

Rustles and shuffles at the rear of the chapel made us turn our
heads. The pews began filling up. On the other side of the aisle,
a dozen people in garb from suits to jeans clustered together, the
good-looking owner of the Gold Leaf Tavern and the spike-haired
woman from Beans R Us among them.

The seats behind us were filling as well. I recognized many of
our neighbors and a few people I'd seen here and there around
town. Walter had worked for them all on one project or another.
Building a fence or a patio. Cleaning up after a windstorm. Installing a sprinkler system. Helping with a renovation or caring for the
yard when someone was on vacation. Walter had been one of a
dying breed, the all-around Jack of all Trades.

Behind them, Detective Ambrose slipped into a corner seat.

Just as the director/minister began adjusting the microphone
sprouting out of the podium, Debby and Jacob hurried in. She
wore a long black dress that tucked in the right places and flowed
in the right places to accent her figure, but the black fabric combined with the heavy eye makeup, the black hair, and her ghostwhite skin made her look like an over-the-hill goth. Jacob wore
a black suit with a white shirt and a bow tie. He looked like he
wanted to scratch.

The service itself was generic and short. Mr. Crane didn't know
much about Walter, so his comments were by necessity impersonal. When he asked if anyone wanted to get up and talk about
Walter. I looked at Debby, but she shrank back.

One of the two women I'd thought were pew fillers got up and
sang the hymns. Her voice, pure and sweet, brought unexpected
tears to my eyes. Both Erin and Meghan cried, too.

After Amazing Grace we shuffled outside, blinking like moles
in the brighter light. Above, clouds scudded across bits of blue, in
thrall to the whim of the wind. I didn't see Ambrose; he'd slipped
out as unobtrusively as he'd come in.

"I wonder if Debby and Jacob know about the fire," I said,
searching the small crowd milling on the lawn in front of the funeral home.

"Down there," Meghan said, pointing down the street. The two
figures in black were already a block away, leaning together and
not looking back.

"Well, I'm not chasing after them," I said, not sure what to
make of their hasty departure.

Ann assisted Tootie into an old mint-green Buick in the parking lot and walked around to the driver's side. We went over to say
good-bye, but Walter's mother was obviously exhausted so we cut
the conversation short.

As we approached Meghan's Volvo, which was parked on the
street, Erin tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Hey, look. There's Dad."

Richard drove slowly past, gesturing as he spoke to the woman
beside him in the white Camry. She wore a green coat over a black
turtleneck and looked to be much older than Dick, despite the unnatural red of her hair. They appeared to be arguing.

"Was he at the funeral?" I asked.

Meghan said, "I doubt it. Richard hates funerals. He was probably over at the hardware store." She gestured down the block. His
car turned and accelerated away.

"Who's that woman with Dad? It wasn't Donnette," Erin said.

Meghan frowned. "I don't know. I feel like I should know her,
but I can't place her. Probably someone he works with." Then she
grimaced, and we exchanged glances, remembering Richard had
quit his job again.

We arrived home about four. Erin trudged up the walk behind us. Poor kid. She'd been through a lot the last week. Meghan
started to push her key into the lock, but the door swung open at
her touch.

She turned to me. "I must not have pulled it shut all the way."

In my mind I saw Walter's open back door. Thought of Walter's
intruder. Following Meghan inside, I tried the knob as I closed the
door behind me. Locked. An itch skittered across my shoulders.
Meghan and Erin went upstairs.

I wandered through the house, opening doors and glancing
behind furniture. My inspection was deliberately casual-I didn't
even want to admit to myself what I was doing.

And I found nothing.

Upstairs I changed into jeans and a sweater, and was groping
through my drawer looking for a pair of matching socks when I
spotted something on my dresser that made my heart stutter. More
precisely, I didn't spot something.

"Meghan!" I yelled.

I heard her footsteps in the hall while I stared at the empty
space where my jewelry box usually sat.

"What?"

She leaned against the doorframe and raised one foot to slide
on her loafer. I moved so she could see and pointed to the dresser
top. She blinked twice, then whirled and ran back to her room. I followed. She let out a whoosh of air at the sight of her own jewelry box. She hurried over and lifted the lid.

I felt sick. Insurance should cover the few valuable pieces from
my grandmother. And then there were the bits of silver jewelry
picked up over the years, mementos of places I'd been and moments I'd wanted to remember. I'd miss them. But I would have
dumped it all in Puget Sound myself if I could have kept my engagement and wedding rings. Not that I wore them anymorethough at the moment I fervently regretted that-but I knew they
were there. And right next to them, Mike's platinum wedding
band. For a year after he died, I slid the circle of smooth metal onto
my thumb each night before I turned out my bedside lamp, slept
with my hand curled to my chest until morning. Even recently I'd
sometimes taken it out, held it in my palm like a talisman.

"My mother's ring is missing. So's the engagement ring Richard gave me." Meghan looked grim.

We went through the rest of the house. Erin helped. We couldn't
find anything else missing, though Erin said some items in her room
had been moved.

"I don't know how you can tell, Bug. You haven't cleaned your
room for over a week," Meghan said.

"I can tell," Erin said, and crossed her arms.

We called the police. An officer we'd never seen, thank heaven
for small favors, came within thirty minutes to take our statements.

"We'll do our best to find the thief," Officer Danson said. She
reminded me of a young Kathy Bates.

"But it's not very likely you'll recover our jewelry, is it?" My
voice came out a depressed monotone.

She grimaced. "Jewelry is pretty easy for a thief to get rid of. I
wish I could be more encouraging."

"We understand," Meghan assured her. And we did understand
why it would be hard to catch them. What I didn't understand
was why someone did it in the first place. They'd taken more than
just stones and metal; those rings were my only connection to a
person-and a time-now lost. I blinked back tears, took a deep
breath.

"Why did they only take the jewelry?" I asked. "Why not the television, or the stereo? Meghan has a laptop in her office, and I have a
computer downstairs as well. Why'd they leave those behind?"

The policewoman said, "Time. A quick in and out before they
could get caught."

"Well, they got lucky. We both work at home, and it's pretty
rare that someone isn't here during the day."

She looked thoughtful. "That's interesting. It sounds like someone knew you'd be gone. Any idea who knew you'd all be at a
funeral?"

"Anyone who knew about Walter-the man who died. Which
turned out to be a lot more people than we thought," I said, thinking of the full chapel.

"So someone burglarized the house when you were all goneand you just happened to leave the door unlatched at the same
time?"

"They must have broken in," I said, "then didn't pull the door
all the way closed when they left."

"The lock doesn't look forced," Officer Danson said.

"So they picked it," I said.

Meghan's eyes narrowed at the woman. "Are you implying
something?"

The officer shook her head, expression still pleasant. "Just getting the facts straight."

It took me a few seconds. "You think we arranged this? For
insurance or something?" I was incredulous. "I can't believe you
people. You're supposed to protect and serve, right? I used to think
we needed more police. Voted for more funds, believed the rhetoric. But if all you do is hassle the victims, we'd be a helluva lot better off with fewer of you! What a useless..."

"Sophie Mae," Megan said.

"...bunch of ineffective-"

"Sophie Mae!"

The policewoman's jaw set. Brodie, leaning against Meghan's
leg, whined low in his throat.

Meghan continued in a gentle voice. "Just because they don't
always recover stolen jewelry doesn't mean they won't find ours.
You still might get your rings back. Mike's ring back."

I started to cry.

The officer mumbled something placating, reminded us to be
careful about making sure the door was closed and locked, and
told us she'd let us know if and when they found anything out. She
looked back at me once from the open doorway, then made her
getaway, while I stood in the middle of the living room sniffling
like a fool.