The Girl Next Door (24 page)

Nina hesitated. Her head ached and her clothes stank of cigarette smoke from the bar.
Her eyes met his shadowed gaze. Andre’s expression was guileless. She suddenly recalled
the night of her father’s funeral, when she’d felt so alone, and he had shown up at
the door, worried about Duncan’s death. He had not created the quagmire that she found
herself in. He was a friend, was making a welcome offer after the miseries of this
day, and the idea of sitting outside in the darkness appealed to her. “All right,”
she said. “If you’re not too cold.”

“Me? Nah,” he said, smiling broadly. Andre came down off the step and started around
the house toward the patio in the backyard. Nina followed him, walking over the fallen
leaves, now dark under the thin layer of snow. She noticed the smell of chimney smoke
in the air, and felt a sudden longing for a hearth that she did not have. Behind the
house, the cushioned patio chairs were circled around a glass table with a center
hole for a nonexistent umbrella. Andre skimmed off the snow and set the two Styrofoam
coffee cups down on the tabletop. He pulled out a chair for her, brushing snowflakes
off the seat. Then he pulled out a chair for himself. The house loomed dark and unwelcoming
behind them, but the backyard was silvery, the dancing flakes lit by a misty moon
on the rise.

Andre reached into the paper bag and pulled out stirrers, creamers, and sugar packets.
“Let me just doctor these up,” he said. “How many sugars?”

“Two,” she replied.

“Sorry they’re not hotter,” he said. “I’ve been outside here for a while.”

Nina nodded, but once again an irrational hostility toward him reasserted itself.
“I didn’t ask you to wait,” she said, in a voice that was meant to sound offhand but
came out sounding mean, even to her own ears.

“I know,” he said wearily.

Immediately she was sorry for her tone. Sorry for making
him feel weary. “How come you’re back so soon?” she asked.

Andre frowned and tapped his fingers against the side of the cup. “Things didn’t go
exactly as planned,” he said.

“With Susan?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. She … kind of sent me packing,” he said.

“Really?” Nina asked, her heart leaping. “Why?”

Andre sighed. “She said she wasn’t … sure anymore. About us,” he said.

“Oh. That’s too bad,” said Nina, although part of her was undeniably elated at this
news. She tried to sound sympathetic.

“Did she say why?”

Andre hesitated. “It’s a lot of things. I think it’s been coming for a while,” he
said vaguely.

“Does this mean you’re not going to move out there?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still … sorting it out.”

“Are you still engaged?” Nina asked.

“She still has the ring,” he said.

Nina blushed and was grateful for the darkness. She imagined him begging Susan to
keep his ring and promising that they would find a way to work it out. “Well, then,
there’s still hope,” Nina said, forcing herself to sound cheery, although the mental
image of him pleading with his faceless fiancée made her feel dead inside.

Andre was silent for a moment. “That’s one way to look at it,” he said. He set his
cup down on the tabletop. “But right now I want to know what’s going on with you.
Did you find out anything more about Duncan’s death?”

Nina shrugged and took a sip of the coffee. It was sugary and barely warm. “Oh yes.
I found out a lot. Too much, you might say.”

Andre frowned. “Like what?”

After another sip, Nina set down her cup and recounted her conversation with Jimmy
as fully as she could.

When she finished, Andre blew out his breath with a soft whistle.

“Damn,” said Andre, frowning. “Well, that explains Duncan’s renewed hope about finding
your mother’s killer.”

“I know,” she said.

“So,” said Andre. “What do you intend to do now?”

Nina took a deep breath. “I’d like to talk to Calvin Mears and find out what he told
my father. But Jimmy thinks Calvin may have turned around and gone right back to L.A.
Some guy came after him at the cemetery with a baseball bat.”

“A baseball bat?” Andre cried. “Why?”

“To settle an old score,” she said. “Luckily for Calvin, his uncle was there. Apparently
he’s a cop down in Seaside Park. At least, it said in the obituary that they come
from Seaside Park. Anyway, the uncle was armed and headed the guy off.”

“Wow,” said Andre, shaking his head. “And you’re certain your brother is telling the
truth about all this.”

Nina nodded. “I believed him. He was a mess. Jimmy’s a reformed alcholic. When I left
him he was diving into a beer.”

“God, that’s awful. Did you try to stop him?”

Nina felt insulted by the question. She thought of how she had begged Jimmy to leave
the bar and come back with her. “Of course I did!” she cried.

He reached out across the cold glass top of the patio table and took her hand. “That
was stupid of me,” he said. “I know you did.”

She met his gaze and felt a tightness in her chest and a lassitude in her limbs. The
desire to touch his skin, to feel his lips, to fold herself against him was like a
drug in her veins. A weakness, she reminded herself, that she could not afford. He
was engaged. He belonged to someone else.

She drew herself back. “So?” she said, deliberately misunderstanding him. “You think
I didn’t handle it the right way with my brother? Maybe you think I should have physically
dragged him out of there. Or called the cops.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.

“I don’t care how you meant it,” she snapped. “I’m cold. I’m going in.”

Andre turned his face away from her and looked at the ground. Instantly, she felt
sorry for taking out all her frustration on him. He had done nothing but try to help
her. He didn’t deserve her bitterness.

“You’re right. It’s getting cold out here,” he said. “I better be going.”

Apologize, she thought. You are deliberately twisting his words. But no apology rose
to her lips. Her heart seemed to be roiling with anger and disappointment. “That’s
a good idea,” she said, standing up.

Andre nodded, as if he understood something unspoken, and then he got up from the
patio chair. He dumped out the leftover coffee, gathered up the empty cups and packets,
and put them in the bag. Then he jammed the bag into the pocket of his coat.

“Nina,” he said, “I don’t think you should go pursuing this guy … Mears, is it?”

“Calvin Mears. And I don’t really need any more advice. Thank you, but I’m sure I’ll
be fine,” she said coldly.

He turned away and she thought she heard him sigh. He started to walk around to the
front of the house, and she followed the tracks of his boots in the gauzy snow. When
they reached the walk they separated. He headed down toward his car, which was parked
on the street. She thought to wave to him, but he did not look back at her.

·   ·   ·

“J
IMMY
?” Rita leaned over and searched her customer’s face. “I’m going off my shift. Can
I call somebody to come and get you?”

Jimmy looked up at the waitress’s face through a fog. He knew what she was saying.
She was saying that he was in no shape to drive. But he wasn’t that far gone. He tried
to say “No” but ended up making a grunting noise.

“How about one of the guys from work that you come in here with? Pete. I could call
Pete for you,” Rita suggested.

Jimmy’s half-closed eyes widened in alarm. Not Pete, he thought. Not anybody from
work. If they saw him like this, half in the bag and needing a ride home, he might
not have that job for much longer. His dulled brain made a sloppy search through the
possible names and faces. Not Nina. Not after this afternoon. And not Rose. Definitely
not Rose. Or George. They would look at him so sadly, and what would he say? After
all the pep talks and the prayers, how could he explain?

Jimmy’s eyes closed, and then he started and looked up at Rita’s kindly face. “Call
Patrick,” he said.

“Do you have a phone number for Patrick?” Rita asked.

Jimmy patted himself up and down, trying to remember. Patrick’s phone number. He used
to know it by heart.

“Is it in the book?” Rita asked.

Jimmy looked up at her gratefully and nodded. “Patrick Avery,” he said. “In Hoffman.”

“Okay,” she said, putting a glass of water down in front of him. “Here’s some water.
I’ll give Patrick a ring.”

Jimmy grabbed her forearm as she tried to turn away. “ ’Smy brother,” he said.

Rita nodded, and pried his fingers off her arm. She disappeared behind the bar as
Jimmy tried, with a trembling hand, to lift the water to his lips.

The water slopped onto his hand and onto the table. He set it down carefully and tried
to think. He knew what they would
ask him. Why did you do it? Why did you start again? All these years and now here
you are. Over the edge in one precious day.

He knew when he was driving here, leading Nina here. He knew he wasn’t going to make
it through his confession without something. He’d tried praying in the car, but it
didn’t work. His mind kept drifting away from redemption. He knew what the look on
Nina’s face was going to be. The contempt in her eyes. Nina had no idea what it was
like to live as he had lived. His heart, his mind, everything cried out for oblivion.

But it wasn’t only that. If he were honest, he’d admit he had known what was gonna
happen when he saw Calvin today. When he’d walked into that funeral home and looked
at Calvin’s face, he’d felt like an old man. A tired old man who had resigned himself
to penance, and given up everything that had ever made him happy. Given it up and
accepted being half alive. Never doing too much of anything. Never caring too much
about anything or anybody. Never really laughing. When he saw Calvin he remembered
what it was like to feel high. High and alive. He remembered. And he wanted it back.

Now Nina knew everything about that night. He was like a man turned inside out. All
his secrets were on the outside now. Well, not all his secrets. He still had to tell
Patrick. He knew that. He had to. He had to confess to Patrick before he could really
be free. And once he was free, he planned to celebrate. That’s right. Celebrate.

“Is that your Jag out there, mister?” he heard a man at the bar saying in a loud,
taunting voice.

Jimmy looked up. Patrick had come in, still wearing his good suit and his Burberry
raincoat. The men at the bar were looking at him with dislike. Dislike tinged with
envy.

“Yes, it’s mine,” said Patrick in an impatient voice.

“Runs kind of ragged, don’t it?” asked another man.

“I know,” said Patrick. “It needs a tune-up.”

“You think you’d take care of a piece of machinery like that,” one of the men at the
bar said to the other. “Not just drive it into the ground.”

Patrick was looking around, searching the dark corners of the bar. Jimmy raised his
hand weakly and Patrick’s irritated frown turned to a glare. He strode up to the table
where Jimmy still sat.

“What the hell happened to you?” he demanded in a low voice. “Jesus, Jimmy. You’re
going right down the fucking tubes.”

Now that Patrick was here, Jimmy knew what he had to do. He had to tell Patrick. About
the robbery and Calvin and everything. He had to tell him everything. Just like Nina.
Jimmy reached up and hooked one of the buckles on Patrick’s coat.

“Let go of that,” Patrick said, pulling his coat free. “Come on. You can sleep at
my house tonight. Is your car here?”

“My car?” Jimmy repeated, confused.

“I’ll drive you by in the morning,” said Patrick. “You can pick it up then. Come on.
Did you pay yet?” Jimmy blinked at his brother. Patrick reached under Jimmy’s arm
and around his back and hoisted him to his feet. Jimmy swayed above him. “You fucking
moron,” said Patrick, throwing money down on the table.

Jimmy let himself be led outside. The cold air hit him like a bucket of water, and
he felt suddenly much more lucid than before. He looked up at the night sky. There
were still some snowflakes coming down but nothing much was sticking to the ground.
Patrick hauled him to the Jaguar and opened the door.

Jimmy leaned on the open door. “Patrick. I have to tell you …”

“That’s fine,” said Patrick. “Get in the car, Jim.”

“Issabout what happened. Issabout Mom … and Dad … and Calvin.”

Patrick’s jaw tightened and he shook his head. “Just get in the goddamned car.”

“Lemme tell you, Patrick …” Jimmy pleaded. “I gotta tell you.”

Patrick pushed him down roughly into the passenger seat. “Yeah. Yeah. Tell me when
we get home,” he said. “Now get your hand inside before I slam the door on it.”

N
INA
’ S cell phone rang in her coat pocket as she closed the front door. Answering it
as she shrugged off her damp coat, she was surprised to hear her great-aunt’s thready
voice on the other end.

“Aunt Mary,” she said. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, dear,” her aunt said. “I hate to bother you. But I talked to the doctor
today and he said I can go home tomorrow.”

“That’s great,” said Nina, trying to hide her dismay. Tomorrow she planned to track
down Calvin and get the answers she needed about her father’s last days. But she couldn’t
let down her aunt. All right. Tonight, she thought. I’ll do it tonight. He’s got to
still be in Seaside Park with his relatives. There has to be a way to find him. And
then she had another, dismal realization. Her aunt’s bedroom was still torn apart.
Only half the trim was painted. All the furniture was still in a covered heap in the
middle of the room.

“I know how busy you are, Nina, and I hate to put you out,” Aunt Mary said. “But do
you think you could come out to Hoffman and pick me up and bring me home?”

Nina’s headache, which had abated slightly while she was sitting on the back patio,
came rushing back full force. She wasn’t about to tell her aunt that she was already
in Hoffman, or why. But she knew she had to quickly rearrange her priorities. “Of
course,” she said. “Of course I can. When shall I come for you?”