Of Saints and Shadows (1994) (4 page)

“Okay. Miss Gallagher . . .”

“Meaghan.” She smiled, and he returned it.

“Yes, Meaghan. First things first, I guess. Would you mind if I had a look around Janet’s room? It might give us a clue.”

“No problem,” she answered, getting up again.

“It’s the back room,” she added, and Peler got up to follow her.

The room was spartan, but elegant. One bureau, two night tables, each adorned by a lamp, and a wicker chair in the corner. A large brass bed, a small TV set, a good-sized throw rug on the floor. A floral print hung over the bed. Janet Harris’s only real vice seemed to be clothes. She had a huge walk-in closet filled with them.

“She’s a snappy dresser, your Janet?” he asked.

“You’ve never met her?” Meaghan seemed surprised.

“Not actually, no. Her dad talks about her all the time, though.”

“Frank’s a sweetheart. Right now I’m almost more worried about him than about Jan.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just wishful thinking, but I have this feeling she’s okay.” She paused. “So, how long have you known Frank?”

“Almost ten years. Since I stopped some kids from breaking into his restaurant. After that he gave me the run of the place when I needed to take clients out.”

Meaghan sal down on the bed, one leg drawn up under her, and hugged herself light against the chilly room as Peter glanced around.

“I’m surprised I’ve never met you.”

“It’s not too surprising actually. I only go in there once in a while, and even then it’s very late. I always work at night, that’s when the bad guys come out.”

“And you’re a good guy, eh?” she asked with a pleasant laugh.

“Yes, ma’am,” he returned in a cowboy drawl. “An official member of the Fraternal Order of the White Hats . . . at least most of the time. I’ve been considered a bad guy once or twice, but then again, who hasn’t?”

Her smile was warm, and then she was serious again. “I suppose we ought to get down to business?”

“Well, unless you intend to stay up all night.”

“Would you like me to leave the room, let you concentrate?”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, it’s better if you stay here. You’ll be able to help me find things.”

“You know something, I must have really been asleep when I answered the door. I never even asked to see your ID.”

Peter started to reach for his wallet.

“No, Mr. Octavian.” She was smiling again. “Don’t bother now. I guess if you had wanted to have your way with me, you’d have made your move already.”

She was flirting, but he figured that was healthy right about now. “Don’t be so sure about that. And call me Peter, okay?”

She shook her head yes as he pulled out his wallet and tossed it to her.

“Just to make it official. Don’t make fun of the picture.”

“Come on,” she said, after pulling it out. “This isn’t half as bad as the picture on my license.”

“Look at
my
driver’s license,” he said as he continued his search of the closet.

“Ugh. Now
that’s
bad!”

He stood up and put his hands on his hips in mock consternation. “Give it here, you. I told you not to make fun of the picture.”

She tossed it back to him and sat for another moment as he began going through the left nightstand.

“I need something hot. Would you like some coffee?”

“Actually, tea would be great if you have it.”

“Oh, tea sounds great. I’ve been drinking too much coffee anyway.”

She got up to fix the tea and turned around when she heard a sharp buzzing sound. Peter was holding up a white plastic vibrator with a glowing tip, which he had just pulled out of the drawer next to Janet’s bed.

“Well,” Meaghan said with a laugh, covering her mouth. “If she
did
run away, she probably isn’t alone.”

Peter laughed and dropped the thing back in the drawer, and Meaghan went to the kitchen to put some water on. He continued his search, which had so far proven fruitless, moving to the night table on the opposite side, but his mind was elsewhere—on Meaghan Gallagher. An unusual woman, he thought, independent and intelligent, with an ironic sense of humor, not to mention attractive. She was outgoing while at the same time Peter could see an extremely private streak in her, and secrets behind her eyes.

He shook his head in amusement. It really had been too long.

He knelt and began to search under the bed. He was starting to get the idea that this whole thing was a dead end, but he wanted to be thorough. Meaghan came back in.

“Water’s on. How’s it going in here?”

“Almost done. I’m trying to figure out if I’ve missed anything. Let’s take a break for a minute. Tell me about Janet—how you met, that sort of thing.”

“Sure, hardest question first.” She smiled. “It’s sort of a strange relationship, because we were both pretty much loners—a little too individual for the ‘in crowd’ in high school, so we kept to ourselves. I speak for her from what she told me, ’cause we first met in college, Introduction to Political Science with Schmelter. We started talking one day early in freshman year, the way girls do when they’re looking for friends. I could see that like me, she was a pretty private person, and neither one of us had any close friends. So, by default really, we ended up with each other.

“Then, unfortunately, her mom died.”

“How?” Peter asked.

“What’s that?”

“How did she die?”

Peter noticed a small crease of pain by Meaghan’s eyes.

“Cancer. Sucks, huh? Anyway, she came to me then because she didn’t have a shoulder to cry on. Her dad needed support himself, and she didn’t want him to see her weakness. I lost my parents in a plane crash a week before the surprise sweet-sixteen party they were throwing for me. Janet and I had a lot to talk about.

“After that we stuck together, facing the horrors of college as a team. We did everything and went everywhere together. Come sophomore year, we started rooming together, and as you can see, we still are. I don’t know how healthy it was for us to be so close—it certainly didn’t leave much room for others. There were rumors flying around that we were lovers.”

She stopped and gave him a funny smile, shaking her head. They both heard the whistle from the kitchen, then. It had been going for some moments before either noticed it.

“I’ll get the tea,” she said, and turned quickly to go. “If you’re almost done, we can have it in the living room?”

“Fine. I’ll be right in.”

She got up and went to rescue the screaming kettle, retucking and tightening her robe on the way. He stood up and looked around Janet Harris’s bedroom. He ran a mental check on any place she might have personal things that he hadn’t checked. There was one place left. He’d almost forgotten.

He stood at the foot of the bed and lifted the mattress up off the box spring. Holding one end of the mattress up with his right arm, he used his left to retrieve the one thing that was hidden there. Janet’s diary.

After returning the mattress to its normal position, he went into the living room, diary in hand. He could hear Meaghan moving around in the kitchen, and he thought about what she’d said.

She came into the room with a tray and put it down on the coffee table in front of him. She did not notice the diary in his hands.

“Were the rumors true?” he asked.

“Pardon me?” she said, feigning ignorance, obviously hoping he’d retract the question.

“Were the rumors true? Were you and Janet lovers?”

Meaghan simply looked at him for a moment, expressionless. “What a terribly blunt, and completely unsubtle question.”

“If you’d prefer not to discuss it, that’s okay with me. But you might want to read this before I do.”

He put the diary down on the table. From the look on Meaghan’s face, he could see that she hadn’t known Janet was keeping a diary.

“I haven’t looked through it at all, but there might be something in here that can help me. Maybe, maybe not. If you want to read it before me, that’s fine, but if I’m supposed to be finding out what happened to Janet . . .”

He left it at that.

She was very quiet. She picked up the diary and simply stared at the cover for a moment. She opened to the first page, then shut it again, closed her eyes, and rested her chin on her hands. When her eyes opened, she had made a decision.

“Let’s get this straight, Mr. Oct—Peter. I do not consider myself a lesbian, though then again, I have nothing against those who do.”

“Hold on,” Peter interrupted. “[ don’t care what you are or aren’t, and I’m not trying to put you on the defensive. I’m not judging anybody. Now, please. Relax.”

She looked a little embarrassed, and a little nervous. She took a deep breath and continued.

“I’m telling you this because I would never tell the cops and I figure I can trust your discretion. You never know what could be important in finding her, so someone should know the truth.

“What I was about to say is that I don’t consider myself a lesbian, but I would have to say I am bisexual. Though I’ve only been with one woman, and it was a long time ago, I don’t think it’s something you can stop being. You’re right that the woman was Janet.

“I’m not worried about myself. There’s nobody in my life I need to hide things from. I just don’t want Frank to find out; it would kill him. He’s an old-fashioned kind of guy, and Janet’s situation is different from mine. She’s far from promiscuous—as I said, she’s a private person. But of the lovers she’s had since I’ve known her, there have been at least a couple of women besides myself, as recently as last year. This is a little hard to talk about to a stranger. I’ve only ever told a couple of people.”

She slopped short, looking at him. Something in his eyes, on his face, told her it was okay to continue. He projected an acceptance that was unique in her experience. There was an
understanding
that radiated from him that would have been impossible to explain. It was, in a way, like the altitude of people who are truly old, who have lived it all and understand your feelings better than you. She was calm now.

“We were lovers for almost a year—God, that’s hard to say—beginning over the summer between freshman and sophomore years, right after we moved in together. The next summer we talked about one of us moving out, but realized it didn’t matter. I don’t really want to explain it to you, but that part of our relationship stopped. We went on being good, loving friends and constant companions, but there was nothing physical about it. We double-dated, set each other up on blind dates, the whole deal. Every once in a while, when one of us got badly hurt, things might happen, but . . .

“By the time senior year rolled around, we each had a full-time boyfriend. I really thought she was going to marry Simon, and I think she did, too. Then he got a job as a photojournalist down in Central America, and she stayed here. Things didn’t work out with Max and me either, so Janet and I ended up where we started.

“I know she’s had a couple of other women since, but she was the only woman I was ever with. I’ve never been attracted to any others. I don’t know why it happened. . . .”

“You should be glad it did,” Peter said, startling her into silence. She seemed almost to have forgotten she was revealing so much of herself, and now her candid speech shocked her.

“Really, you should be glad. Very few people ever really love someone. . . .”

She wailed for him to continue, but he did not.

“She’s my friend, Peter. We have our differences, like any people who share space. I love her, and I hope you can find her, but now I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Let’s hope I can do more than that.”

It was obvious to Peter that Meaghan felt a need to defend her actions, and he felt for her. Clearly, she and Janet had been there for each other when things were hard and life was more frightening than usual. And just as clearly, they had evolved to a point where they were more like sisterly coconspirators than anything else, still braving the world together. He hoped that Janet was still alive, and more than anything, he hoped Meaghan did not feel as though he’d forced her to reveal her secrets.

Seeing her depth of emotion, her depth of character, he was even more attracted to her. “Now,” he continued, “back to business. Any men in her life?”

Your life
, he’d almost said.

“She’s funny, charismatic, good-looking. She attracts a lot of men when she goes out, but she rarely brings them home, and she hasn’t for eight or nine months. It’s even more difficult these days to find a compatible woman, and like I said, that’s been over a year for her. We’re becoming a couple of spinsters, really.”

“I find that very difficult to believe,” Peter said seriously.

“She’s afraid to get involved, you know. She’s been hurt, just like everyone else, even with all her precautions. She doesn’t let anybody in except for her dad and me.”

Peter was starting to think that Janet’s personal life might be a dead end, and it upset him. If her disappearance or, if it came to that, her death, was a random event, he might never find her.