Murder in the Devil's Cauldron (15 page)

He started to say no, then the words
strangled in his throat. "You know," he said slowly. "Now that I
think about it." His voice died away and he stared out at the
finches pecking away at the bird feeder on the side of the back
yard porch.

Fae held her breath. Someone's car stereo
pounded away as they drove past, making the windows rattle.

"Now that you mention it, I could have sworn
I saw him at the Ordway one evening," he said finally. "He was with
this blonde woman in one of those high priced boxes."

"Do you remember when?"

"At least a few months ago. It had to have
been the opera. So probably May. I could double check the date if
it's important."

"I'd appreciate that," Fae said. "Do you know
the name of the woman he was with?"

"Not really," he said, shaking his head. "I'm
pretty sure she's involved with fund raising or something like
that. I've seen her at several charity events or when the chamber
orchestra is having a gala. That sort of thing."

"Is there any way you could find out her name
for me?" she asked.

"Sure," he said. "I just need to make some
calls."

"Did you say anything to him when you saw
him?"

"No. I wasn't positive, and by the time I got
to where they were sitting, they were gone."

"And you haven't seen them since?"

"No."

Fae gave him her card and repeated the
request for confidentiality she had made with each of the people
she had interviewed. She held her composure until she got in her
car. She waved at him as she pulled away, but only drove around the
block. Then she allowed herself a loud cheer before getting on the
freeway. As she headed back to the North Shore, she reminded
herself not to get too excited. Devious Dave was a long way from
being in handcuffs. But she felt like she was finally one step
closer. When she gave her report to Bailey later, she felt
confident he'd be pleased at her progress.

As she walked back to the photo store, Starr
thought about how she was going to get back to Grand Marais. The
only way there really would
be
a next time was if she
managed to get a bike. Her mother would never drive her all the way
here just so she could take pictures of rocks. She simply had to
figure out how to get a bike. Of course, she'd also have to figure
out some way to get out of dinner because she'd
never
get
back on time, but she decided to worry about that later.

Although her slides weren't ready when she
returned to the photo store, she didn't have to wait long and she
was only a couple of minutes late when she got to the grocery
store. Heart pounding, she dashed inside and checked all the
aisles, but there was no sign of her yet, so
that
was okay.
She went back outside and found a bench. She'd use the extra time
to figure out how to tell her mother about the bike.

When Starr saw her mother crossing the street
towards the grocery store, she almost didn't recognize her. It
wasn't that she was carrying something over her arm or that her
hair had been blown out of its permanent press perfection. It was
more that she looked altered in some way. She definitely was not
the same person Starr had seen nearly most of her life - and
especially not since her father had left.

Starr stared, trying to figure out exactly
what it was. Then it hit her. Her mother looked relaxed, for one
thing. The bitter set of her mouth had vanished and she was
actually smiling. And not the phony kind that never reached her
eyes. A real one that left Starr speechless.

"I'm just going to put this in the car," her
mother said as she passed Starr.

Starr watched as she crossed the street,
unlocked the car and carefully hung the garment bag from the hook
above the back seat window. Amazingly, when she came back across
the street, she still looked happy.

Maybe everything was going to be OK now.
Starr felt a tiny bubble of hope swell up inside. Now that she had
a good job, maybe her mother was finally relaxing and wouldn't be
so nasty any more. If that was true, Starr wondered if that meant
she could relax a little and not have to worry about everything she
said or did any more. Maybe now that things are better, we can be a
real family.

As Starr watched her mother come towards her,
part of her didn't really believe that. Her mother had made it
clear more than once that she hadn't been all that crazy about
Starr even before her father had taken off. Now Starr wondered if
that was simply because of the fights her parents had had late at
night when they thought she was asleep and which had gone on for
years before her father left. It was possible that when things had
been fine, her mother had cared about her and now that things were
going to be fine again, her mother would care about her again.

A new thought occurred to Starr. What if her
mother actually did care about her? What if she just had a hard
time showing it when she was worried about how they were going to
make ends meet? Starr pondered that as her mother checked for
traffic and started back across the street. Somehow, though, that
didn't feel quite right. If you cared about someone, would it make
any difference that things were bad? The problem was, Starr didn't
know. Maybe love got eclipsed by worry and now that her mother
didn't have to worry any more, it would resurface.

"Did you get your pictures?" her mother asked
as she reached the bench where Starr was waiting.

"Yes." Starr thought about taking advantage
of her mother's obvious good mood and mentioning the ad about the
bike, then reconsidered. It might be too soon. She decided to wait
and see how things went first.

"Good. Let's pick up a few things and then we
can get going," her mother said cheerily and headed into the
grocery store.

Starr followed, still amazed.

Once the groceries were safely stashed in the
trunk and they were on the way back to Storm Point, Starr occupied
herself by alternately looking at the small box of slides in her
lap and thinking about the bike.

"Wait until we get back," her mother suddenly
said, amazing Starr out of her thoughts. "I found the most gorgeous
jacket in this little boutique. And it was on sale!"

Starr stared at her mother. "It's nice?" she
asked finally.

"Nice! Better than nice. Just what I needed.
And to think I found a store like that up here, of all places." Her
eyes went to the rear view mirror and then at Starr before
returning to the road.

She was actually smiling, Starr noticed and
couldn't help but grin in response. This was like getting to lick
the frosting out of the bowl before it went on the cake.

"I thought Grand Marais wouldn't have much,"
her mother continued happily. "Here we are, out in the middle of
nowhere, and yet there are all kinds of wonderful shops with nice
things. This is so much better than I ever hoped for."

Starr knew her mother wanted her to say
something about the jacket or make some kind of comment. The
problem was, that she didn't know what to say. They usually never
talked. About anything. So now Starr was quiet, unsure how to
respond. What did her mother want? Sometimes she could tell.
Sometimes it was so obvious that it was easy. But not right now.
The situation was so unusual that Starr felt as if she was blind
and deaf in the middle of the Mall of America on a Saturday
afternoon.

She heard her mother sigh and knew she was
disappointed. She had expected Starr to be as excited as she was.
The problem was, Starr hated shopping. Anything related to fashion
was like a foreign language she had never studied. She was happy
her mother had found something she liked, but saying something
intelligent about shopping was beyond her. She gazed back out the
window, but it was mostly trees on this stretch of the road and her
thoughts went back to the slides in her lap.

"So what else did you do besides getting your
pictures processed?"

It took Starr a moment to realize her mother
had actually asked her a question.

"Starr?"

Starr looked over at her mother, trying to
remember what she had done. "Walked around mostly," she said
finally. Then she brightened as she remembered her discovery. "And
I found a fabulous place out past the lighthouse. There were all
these cool rocks right on the water."

"What is it with you and rocks, anyway?" her
mother asked, her smile fading now. "Can't you find something a
little more interesting to take pictures of?"

"Sometimes they look really neat," Starr said
quietly. "If you zoom in real close, you can see all kinds of
patterns and colors and stuff like that."

"Why don’t you take pictures of people? Maybe
when you grow up you could do portraits. You could probably make a
good living at that."

Starr shrugged. She didn't have any interest
in taking pictures of people. More importantly, she didn't want to
upset her mother by saying the wrong thing. Especially when things
were going so well.

"So did your pictures come out all right?"
her mother asked.

"They're OK," Starr said. Then, because
things were going so well and she could tell her mother was making
an effort, she continued. "I'm trying to get a special effect, but
it didn't quite work. So I'm going to try again."

"That's nice," her mother said, her eyes
flicking to the rear view mirror and then over to Starr quickly,
one of her fake smiles pasted firmly on her face. It was the
expression she used when she was trying to be nice, but wasn't sure
what to say or do.

Starr dropped the subject. She wasn't sure
how to explain what she was trying to do. Especially to someone who
not only didn't understand, but wasn't even remotely
interested.

In desperation, Starr made the big mistake of
the trip. Looking for something to say, she pulled out her
notebook. "I found the community bulletin board near the grocery
store," she said.

"Anything interesting?"

"There was a flyer for an icehouse parade,"
Starr said first.

That at least made her mother smile. "That
sounds a little more like what I expected up here," she said.

Now that something resembling a real smile
was back, Starr felt bold enough to continue. "And I saw an ad for
a used bike."

"Did you."

The smile seemed to be slipping, but Starr
rushed ahead anyway. "Uh huh. It was only fifty dollars. And it's
only been there for one day, so it might still be available."

"Do you have fifty dollars?"

Not only was her mother's smile gone, it had
been left miles behind them. Starr knew she should shut up, but
couldn't stop. "It might be gone in a few days. Especially at that
price."

"And
you
might be gone in a few days,"
her mother said, clipping the words as if she was cutting coupons
out of the paper.

Starr stared out the window, not trusting
herself to look at her mother as she felt her lower lip quiver. She
focused all her energy on not letting it run away. Because if it
did, she'd start crying and if her mother saw her crying, it would
just make her even madder. She should have known her mother's good
mood wouldn't last.

As Starr watched the landscape flash by, she
knew that a bike was now totally out of the question. She'd just
have to come up with some other way to find a bike or a way to get
to Grand Marais so she could shoot the rocks at Artist's Point.

Back at the cabin, Starr helped carry the
groceries in. Once the car had been emptied, her mother finally
broke the silence.

"I'll let you unpack things," she said
brightly. "I'm off to work, but don't forget, dinner is at
5:30."

As if she could forget, Starr thought as she
watched her mother go. As if she even had a
chance
to
forget. But then her resentment faded as she stood on the
porch.

It was hard to believe she had only been here
a week, Starr thought. It felt like much longer. More importantly,
it felt like home. Her old life in Minneapolis no longer felt real.
Which was strange. She had lived there most of her life. But if
there was anything she was sure about, it was that she never wanted
to go back.

When they had gotten here and she had had her
first glimpse of Lake Superior from Storm Point, Starr had known
this place was special. But over the past week she had come to
realize it was more than the spectacular scenery. She loved that
she could go just about anywhere and didn't have to worry about
bullies or weirdos. She loved living in a cabin with polished wood
floors and surrounded by trees. She loved living close to the lake
with its constantly changing moods. One day it looked like a
mirror, so still and quiet it didn't look real, and then the next
it would be choppy with white caps and pounding waves.

She loved the unpredictability. She had
detoured to the lake every morning before going on to breakfast and
each day it was like seeing a new lake. If she had had to explain
why, she couldn't have said exactly what it was. The lake drew her
irresistibly and filled her so that she felt as if she was dancing
on air by the time she got to the Lodge.

She loved inching out to the very edge of the
cliff to see what it looked like and what it felt like. And she
loved how she couldn't see the other side, even on clear days. It
was really more like an ocean and Starr loved the way it felt like
the edge of forever.

Mostly, though, she loved how it felt as if,
for the first time in her life, she was home. That this was her
place. She finally felt as if she belonged.