Lye in Wait (32 page)

As for what was going on with Jacob, I had no idea.

Debby pulled out the ceramic chicken bank, turning it in her
hands.

"That looks old. You might be able to get somethin' for it,"
Jacob said.

Debby glared. He hung his head and stubbed his toe into the
concrete floor like a little kid.

Fingering the worn paint on the bank, she looked back at me.
"You think you could go with me? To, you know..."

"Like, to introduce you? Yeah, I could do that."

"Okay. I'll um...I'll let you know."

"What's back there?" Jacob asked, gesturing with his chin toward the storeroom.

"I keep my product inventory in there, as well as some of the
raw ingredients I use."

"That where you keep your lye?" It was a shock to find him
looking directly into my eyes as he said it, and I realized it was the
first time he hadn't shunted his gaze off elsewhere when I looked
at him.

I didn't look away. "No. That's not where I keep it."

"Stop it, Jacob," Debby said. "It's not her fault, what happened."

Jacob shrugged and shuffled toward the storeroom, pausing in
the doorway and then continuing in, head craned up to see the
contents of the high shelves.

"Sorry 'bout that," Debby muttered.

"He knows, right?"

"Knows what?"

"That Walter didn't... commit suicide." It was still hard for me
to say.

She was silent. Then, "Well, that policeman sure talked like
someone killed him. Jacob's not taking it too well. Doesn't want
to believe it. 'Course, the guy made it sound like Jacob or me had
done it, and that made him mad"

"The policeman-was it Detective Ambrose?"

"That's the one. Promised he'd let me know when they caught
the bastard who did that to Walter, but I haven't heard anything.
Probably just gave up." She sounded resigned, like she didn't expect Ambrose to spend more than the minimum required time on
Walter's case. It had only been a day since he'd spoken with her,
and only a week since I'd found Walter.

"He didn't give up," I said. "In fact he's got a good idea who did
it. Now he just has to catch them. Trust me, Ambrose knows what
he's doing."

Jacob peered around the storeroom door, saw Debby's face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, scurrying like a monkey to her side.

Debby ignored him, her gaze boring into me. "Who killed Walter? Do you know?" When I hesitated, she said, "Tell me."

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Tell me."

The look Jacob sent my way could have started a brushfire, and
I took an involuntary step backward. "What the hell kind of nonsense are you fillin' her head with now?"

Debby grabbed his arm. "Stop it. I'm sick of being treated like
an invalid. I want to know the truth."

He snorted. "Truth? This woman just wants a little excitement
in her life. Don't got nothin' to do with the truth."

Well, naturally that rubbed me the wrong way. "Hey. If you
could just-" pull your head out of your ass... "-listen for a moment. I'm not making it up. The police are very close to arresting
the murderer."

Jacob's nostrils flared.

Debby said, "Really?"

"Yes!"

"Prove it. If you know so much, tell me who killed my Walter."

"I bet I know who they're looking for," Jacob said.

Debby whirled. "Who?"

Jacob paused, then said, "Walter's first wife. She's been in town.
Guess the police heard that, too." He squinted at me. "Am I right?"

I didn't answer, but my face must have given it away, because
he nodded and turned to Debby. "I figured as much."

"His first wife! But why... how do you know she's here?"

"I, uh, saw her. With Walter. She was lookin' for money, I guess.
And he said she's a real piece of work-meaner 'n a snake."

An accurate assessment.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Her momentary grit had vanished,
and only the little girl voice remained.

"He just wanted her gone, Debs. He didn't want you bothered
with any of it." Jacob's expression now held nothing but concern
for his sister, and I could have been on Mars for all he noticed me.
I found his focus on his sister a little unnerving.

"Debby," I said. "Are you okay?"

She turned bewildered eyes on me. "What's her name?"

"Debby!" Erin's voice from the bottom of the stairs saved me
from answering. "What are you doing here?"

Debby blinked, then turned to Erin. "Honey, how are you?" She
held out her arms, and Erin glided into the hug as if from long
practice.

"Um," I said. "You two know each other?"

Erin nodded happily, ignoring my questioning look. Little imp.

Debby said, "Walter introduced us. Turns out Erin's quite the
little Mariners expert."

"Not like Walter was," Erin said. "He knew everything about
baseball, and not just the Mariners, either. He had all kinds of
stories."

"Really?"

"He did," Debby replied, more at ease in this conversation and
with Erin than any of the times I'd seen her with her brother. Now
he shuffled backwards, physically extracting himself from potential conflict. He went back into my storeroom. Had he been jealous
of Walter? Was he still?

Debby continued. "Walter loved two things: baseball and nature. He was going to be a scientist once, did you know that?" I
made a noncommittal sound, and she continued. "But I bet he
knew more about baseball than any commentator."

"I don't think Tootie knew that about him."

"Well, maybe I'll tell her."

Erin skipped into the storeroom. I heard her say, "Hi! I'm Erin.
Doesn't it smell great in here? This one over here's my favorite."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs preceded Meghan into the
room.

"Have you seen my offspring?" she asked.

I gestured with my elbow. "She's in there."

"Okay. Don't tell her I asked."

"Stalking your kid again?"

Debby looked puzzled.

"Funny," Meghan said, leaning against the end of the counter.
"But she is getting pretty sick of me dogging her heels."

"At least she's feeling better," I said.

Meghan nodded. "Seems to be."

"Uh, Sophie Mae?" Debby said, and my eyes followed her gaze.

Grace Thorson stood in the doorway, a scrawny silhouette
against the bright daylight.

"Where's my granddaughter? Where's my sweet little girl?"

SHE MINCED INSIDE ON her spike heels and peered around the
room. Richard followed behind. Meghan and I gaped.

"Where's little Erin? She's not in school today. I want to see my
granddaughter!" Then her gaze fell on Debby. "Who are you?"

I jumped in. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Thorson. Erin isn't here right
now." From the corner of my eye I saw Jacob moving toward the
storeroom doorway. Grace couldn't see inside the storeroom from
where she stood. With my hand at my side, I waved him back without moving my head. Erin's small hand snaked out and grabbed
his sleeve, pulling him back out of my sight.

"Well, where is she? When will she be back?" Her face twisted,
and she turned on Meghan. "You can't stop me from seeing her
forever."

"I'm sorry, but it'll have to be another time," Meghan said, her
composure returned. She shot a meaningful look at Richard. It was
either lost on him or else he didn't care if his mother made a scene.
"I'll call you, and we can set something up."

"Nice try, honey. But I want to see her now. I know she's not in
school. Where is she?"

"She's not here." Meghan spoke as if to a slow child.

"I know that. You said that. So call and have her come home."
Her eyes took on a calculating gleam. "Or Richard and I could just
go pick her up. Have that lunch you were too high and mighty to
take her out of school for."

Richard said, "She with your new boyfriend?"

"What?" Meghan looked confused.

"Ha!" Grace said.

Richard stuck his chin out. "What, you think I couldn't tell how
chummy you were the other night? And then you drag him over to
my apartment. What did you think you were doing?"

"Wait a minute. You mean the detective who came over when
you were here the other night?"

Richard snorted. "You're right, Mother. Won't even admit what
she's exposing my daughter to."

"Exposing...? You've got to be kidding."

They glared at each other in a moment of electric silence. Grace
hummed under her breath and looked on with an indulgent gaze
that made my skin creep.

Meghan said, "He's not my boyfriend. He's a police detective."

"So you said. What was he doing here? Huh? And why was he
with you when you came over?"

"Why didn't you answer the door?" I asked.

He sent me an acidic look. "I wasn't home. Or else, believe me,
I would've been happy to give the guy a piece of my mind."

"Sure you can spare it?" I mumbled, and beside me, Debby
smiled.

Richard's chin jutted forward again. "What did you say?"

"I asked how you knew Meghan had been there if you weren't
home."

"My neighbor told me." He turned on Meghan. "And if he's not
your boyfriend, why would you bring this detective guy around,
anyway? Trying to get me in trouble?"

Why, I wondered, would she bring Ambrose around if he were
her boyfriend? I mean, it'd probably be worth a lot in the romance
department to never expose a man you were interested in to Dick.

Her eyes met mine. She didn't want to tell Richard that Ambrose wanted to question his mother about the murder.

"We had a break-in," I said.

Richard's eyes narrowed, then he gave an elaborate shrug and
examined the ceiling. "So?"

"So Detective Ambrose wanted to question everyone who
might know where the spare key was."

His gaze reverted to me. "You bitch. You told him I did it."

"Richard..." Meghan began.

"Did you?" I asked.

He gave me his best glare. I bet he practiced it in the mirror, it
was so good.

"Well, did you?" Meghan asked.

"That's a stupid question," he said.

But he didn't deny it.

"Come on, Mother," he said.

Grace swung her head back and forth. "No. I want to leave
something for Erin first. In her room."

"Mother, there's nothing... let's just go, 'K? We'll take her out
another time."

"You're such a pathetic sap, Dickie-Bird. Your wife, excuse me,
ex-wife pushes you around like you're nothing. Of course, it's a
miracle you found anyone who'd want to marry you in the first
place. I suppose it'd be too much to expect that you stand up to
her like a man." Grace drifted around the room as she spoke, not
looking at anyone, trailing her fingers along surfaces as if marking
them with her scent.

A waxy pallor overtook Richard's usual healthy tan, and his Adam's apple jogged convulsively up and down his neck. He looked
at the floor as she went into her diatribe, shouldering her vitriol
like a helpless child, and my perception twisted for a moment, allowing me to see this obnoxious man as an emotionally abused
boy. I thought of how that beautiful child might have turned out
had he been raised by a loving father, by Walter Hanover, and how
Walter's life might have been so different from the train wreck it
turned into if only he'd been able to raise his son. Anger flooded
my veins as I watched Grace's blithe destruction of a man I didn't
even like, her casual delivery of insults as if from long practice.

"But I guess there isn't a lot I should expect from you, is there,
Dickie-Bird? After all, you are your father's son. Too bad. Too bad
you weren't Daddy Bly's. Maybe you'd have picked up his knack
for making money. I hoped maybe he'd rub off on you, but no
such luck. You just have to do the best you can with those useless
dreamer genes you got from your father."

"Is that why it was so easy to kill him, Grace?" The words
spewed out before I even thought of stopping them. The look on
her face granted me a disturbing feeling of satisfaction. Debby
stared at me, then swiveled to Grace, to Richard, and back to me again. Richard's eyes flicked up at me, then back to the floor. I
didn't dare look at Meghan.

The shock on Grace's face faded, to be replaced by lip-curling
scorn. "Well, aren't you clever."

Revulsion curled my own lip back. "Did you kill Walter, Grace?
He was just a dreamer, so why not? What was it? He make you
mad? Did you want something from him? What miserable reason
did you give yourself to justify it?"

Richard seemed to shake himself. "Don't be stupid, Sophie
Mae. My mother had no reason to kill Walter."

He still didn't get it. But Debby had connected the dots. A distilled moan escaped her lips.

"Shut up, Dickie. I don't need you to speak for me." Grace
turned to face me, and the force of her animosity backed me up
against the stove. "You are a stupid little bitch. I didn't kill that old
drunk. Find some other sap to pin it on"