Tumbling Blocks (22 page)

I was still stunned about what she claimed Constance told her about me. “Constance Sinclair said I’d help you inventory Mrs. Edmondson’s possessions?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve got that almost done. I’m using the forms the lawyer gave me. He said the family trusts me.” She sniffed, her dark eyes filling with tears. “She was a good woman, Mrs. Edmondson.”

I stared at the woman a moment, then glanced over at Elvia. Elvia pointed to her watch. I nodded and waved a hand.

“Ms. Heinz,” I said, softening my voice. “I’m really sorry about Mrs. Edmondson, but I’m not exactly clear on what Constance told you I would do.”

She sniffed again, reached for a tissue tucked into the sleeve of her sweater and dabbed at her eyes. “She said you’d be by to look through Mrs. Edmondson’s things to see if you could find anything suspicious.”

“So you know that Constance . . .”

“Thinks Mrs. Edmondson was murdered?” She nodded vigorously. “Yes, she’s told me that every time she’s been here.”

“What do you think?”

She tucked the crumpled tissue back up her sleeve. “I don’t know. I like Mrs. Sinclair. She was a real good friend to Mrs. Edmondson. Besides me, I think she’s the only one who really cares that Mrs. Edmondson’s gone.” She tilted her head, her nose a darker red than the rest of her skin. “But Mrs. Edmondson did have a bad heart. I live in the house in the back.” She pointed to a small guesthouse to the left of the big house, about fifty yards away, I would guess. “I think I would have heard if someone came in and killed her.” She picked up the cat still rubbing up against her legs. “Mrs. Sinclair’s just sad and doesn’t know what to do about it. I wish she liked cats. Lionel needs a home now that Mrs. Edmondson’s passed on. He’s only three years old. He has a long life ahead of him.”

I reached over and stroked the cat, knowing that Constance couldn’t stand animals of any kind. “Yes, you might be right.” I turned to wave at Elvia, telling her I was almost done. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to come back. I have plans tonight. Constance . . . uh . . . forgot to tell me about this.”

“She has a key,” May said. “I’m about finished with the inventory. After the family looks it over, they are going to arrange for an auction.” The thought of her beloved employer’s possessions being auctioned off seemed to choke her up. “Mrs. Edmondson loved her things.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, laying a hand on May’s arm. “I’ll get out here this week and look through the house, just to set Constance’s mind at ease.”

“Thank you,” May said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.

“What in the world was that all about?” Elvia asked when I climbed back into her car. On the ride back to the bookstore I filled her in on what May Heinz had to say about Pinky’s death and Constance’s obsession.

“So,” she asked when we arrived at Blind Harry’s, “are you going to do what Constance asked?” She helped me load the three pies—two olallieberry, one cherry—into my truck.

“She hasn’t actually asked me yet,” I said. “I’ll call her tomorrow and tell her that this will absolutely be the last thing I do concerning Pinky Edmondson’s death. It’s getting creepy now.”

“At least you’re doing what Gabe asked you to do, keep her off his back,” Elvia said.

“And he owes me big time for that.” I checked my watch and groaned. “I never went by to pick up the painting at Gabe’s office, and there’s no time now. I have to pick up Boo and get right home. Not to mention buy the ice cream.”

“Don’t worry about ice cream. Emory and I will bring it. See you in about a half hour.”

I arrived home toting a hungry puppy and three pies. I walked into my house greeted by the wonderful scents of chicken verde and fresh pine. Sam was already there with Teresa, stringing lights on the most beautiful blue spruce Christmas tree I’d ever seen.

“You owe me seventy bucks,” Sam said from behind the tree. All I could see were his two hands pulling through the strands of white twinkly lights.

I set Boo down, and he immediately started playing with a fuzzy ball that Teresa tossed to him. She giggled and said, “Sam, the tree only cost fifty dollars.”

“Twenty is my middleman fee,” he said.

“Will you take a check?” I asked, winking at Teresa.

“Got two forms of ID?”

I reached around the tree and pinched his forearm. “I’ll owe you forever before I beat you out of it.”

His head popped up from behind the tree. “Huh?”

I laughed. “I’m buying you a slang dictionary for Christmas. Hit your dad up for the money. Watch Boo for me?”

“Sure!” Teresa said, sitting down on the floor and pulling the puppy into her lap.

In the kitchen I found Kathryn peeking into a bubbling six-quart pot and Ray tearing lettuce into my biggest salad bowl. Scout came through the dog door and immediately demanded a quick neck rub.

“How was your day, Master Scout?” I asked, massaging his neck with my hands. “Calmer than mine, no doubt.”

“He was a perfect gentleman all day,” Kathryn said, wiping her hands on an apron I didn’t recognize and had no idea where she got. She caught me staring and said, “When I couldn’t find an apron, I sent Ray across the street to your friends Beebs and Millee. They sent this over.”

I looked closer at it, then laughed. It was bright red and embroidered with the face of Carmen Miranda, her towering hat of fruit and the words, Yes, We Have No Bananas.

By six thirty everyone was here and standing in line for a plate of Kathryn’s chicken verde, Spanish rice and cornbread. Since our table could only hold six people at the most, we decided eating buffet style would be the easiest. After everyone ate their fill, we retired to the living room, where Sam made a big production of turning on the Christmas lights.

After our enthusiastic applause, I told everyone to get busy putting on the ornaments while I prepared the dessert. Beebs joined me in the kitchen, where she and Millee had, of course, contributed some Christmas cookies to the celebration.

“You know we can’t go anywhere without bringing food,” she said. “We can’t help ourselves.” She and Millee were dressed alike tonight in Beebs’s conservative fashion choice of dark green pants and red and green hand-knitted sweaters decorated with Christmas trees. If it had been Millee’s turn to pick their clothes, the pants would likely have been red and their earrings actual Christmas bulbs that twinkled when they walked.

“I know,” I said, giving her a quick hug. “If we don’t eat them all tonight, I’ll drive Gabe nuts and eat them for breakfast.”

“You’re good for the boy,” she said, laughing as she cut slices of olallieberry pie. “Without you, he’d be way too serious.”

The tree was halfway decorated by the time Beebs and I passed around the cookies, pieces of pie à la mode and cups of hot decaf coffee. Everyone was relaxed and laughing at Boo and Sam as he teased the puppy with a strand of silvery icicle. Boo kept trying to bite at it and getting a mouthful of air.

“Sam,” Kathryn said, sitting over in the corner in Gabe’s leather chair. “I have something for you. I was going to wait until Christmas, but it’s not really your Christmas present.” She looked up at Ray, who was standing behind her chair. “Ray, honey, could you . . . ?”

He nodded, obviously knowing what she was talking about without her saying. Gabe watched Ray with a vaguely distrustful expression.

When Ray walked out of the guest room carrying a small box, Kathryn gestured at him to hand it to Sam.

I watched Sam take it from Ray, then glanced over at my husband. His face seemed frozen, but I recognized the anger burning in his eyes, gray now from the emotion.

Sam slowly opened the hinged box and took out the pocket watch, holding it up for everyone to see.

“It was your grandfather’s,” Kathryn said. “He always said he wanted it to go to his eldest grandson. I didn’t think you were old enough until now. And so . . .” Her eyes teared up, something that surprised me. This gruff woman who had so frightened me when we’d visited Kansas a few years ago had, for some reason, softened. Then it hit me. She had some kind of horrible disease and was dying. That had to be the reason for the change in her personality. I swallowed hard; my chest tightened. How would Gabe stand it?

“Awesome,” Sam said, turning the watch over in his hand. He looked up at Gabe, whose expression, if it could register on a thermometer, would definitely be below freezing. “Want to see it, Dad?”

“I’ve seen it,” he said abruptly, then set his half-eaten pie down and walked out of the room, into the hall and out the front door. Everyone was stunned silent.

Millee suddenly jumped up. “Who wants more cookies?”

Everyone spoke at once, declaring that was just what they wanted, using the excuse to smooth over the awkward moment.

Thank you,
I mouthed to Millee, then slipped out of the room to look for Gabe.

He wasn’t out on the front porch, or in the backyard, or on either side of the house. Wherever he’d gone, he’d disappeared in a hurry. It had only been a few minutes between the time he left and the time I came out to search for him. I went back around the house to the front porch, where I found Ray standing with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his khaki pants.

“Hey,” I said.

He gave a silent nod.

I stood next to him on the porch and looked out over the dark, quiet street. “I don’t know where Gabe went,” I said, trying but not succeeding in keeping the tremor out of my voice.

I felt his hand rest on my left shoulder. It was warm and comforting, and his gentleness made me even more embarrassed by my histrionic husband. “I’m sorry—” I started to say, but Ray’s hand squeezed my shoulder. In the bushes underneath us, a cricket started chirping, answered by another a few seconds later.

Ray released my shoulder and leaned against the railing, looking out to the quiet street. “My brother and I were raised by a single mom.”

“Really?”

He nodded and continued to stare into the darkness. “My dad was a drunk, would just disappear for months at a time. One time for a year and a half. Mom took care of us by working in a laundry. Pressed men’s pants for twelve hours a day.” He inhaled deeply, letting the air out in a long sigh. “My brother was a year younger than me. When I was twelve, he died.”

I turned to look at the side of his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I was supposed to be taking care of him. He was more restless than me, always wanted to be moving, moving. Mom said he got that from Dad.”

“What happened?” I asked, my heart beating fast, knowing it was not something good.

“He wanted to go to the river. It was summer. Hot and sticky. Our only fan had broken, but I didn’t feel like walking the half mile to go swimming.”

I instinctively held my breath, anticipating the ending.

“I told him to go without me, that I wanted to lie under the tree in front of our house and read. I figured I was somewhere in the middle of
Moby-Dick
when he died.”

“Oh, no,” I said softly.

“He hit his head diving in, they said. There were other kids there. My mom said it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference if I would have gone; Billy still would have died. But, somehow, I’ve always thought that if I’d just put down that book and gone with him . . . I don’t know, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, touching his arm.

“Exactly,” he said, turning his head to look at me.

“Yet it profoundly changed who I was, how I saw life. I was never the same after that day. I’ve had to struggle with how much blame I would feel, how much responsibility was mine. It took a long time for me to forgive myself, even though there was not a thing I could have done to change what happened. And those feelings would . . . and still do . . . pop up on me at odd times. I’m just trying to say in my awkward way that I think I understand what Gabe is feeling, what he’s going through. He’s seen so much death, his dad, Vietnam, his cousin, who knows what he’s seen all those years as a police officer. They see humanity at its absolute worst. Why would he be anything but suspicious of me? And why wouldn’t he be the angriest man on earth?”

“I know he’s been through a lot. But I don’t understand why he, I don’t know, can’t give you a chance. You had nothing to do with the horrible things he’s seen. And you make his mom happy. That should make
him
happy.”

He shook his head. “You know it’s never that easy, Benni. I think it’s hard because his mother and I happened out of order for him. Kathryn and Gabe have never resolved the old issues between them. Me coming into the picture, especially with no warning, has pushed those unresolved emotions to the surface. Before, they could just pretend everything was okay, pretend they didn’t have this old business between them. Her anger about how he acted when Rogelio died and his anger at her sending him away. I’m still hoping they can talk about it while we are here. Between you and me, I think that’s really why she came. I tried to convince her to wait to get married, that it would be better if she included you kids. She said, for once, she wanted something that was just her own. She can be stubborn, my Kathryn.”

I smiled at that. “I guess I know where Gabe gets it from then.”

“They’ll work it out,” he said, his voice even. “Or not. Either way, they’ll still be mother and son. Nothing can change that.”

I inhaled deeply, letting out a big sigh. The air tasted of salt, a wind blowing in from the ocean, whooshing over the hills that separated San Celina from the sea, reminding us that its power and its beauty were not far away. “Ray, if I asked you something, would you tell me the truth?”

He nodded slowly, not looking at me.

“Is Kathryn dying?”

“No,” he said.

CHAPTER 10

“S
HE HAS MULTIPLE SCLEROSIS.”

I closed my eyes slowly and took a deep breath. It was not good news, but at least she wasn’t dying. I opened my eyes and stared at the two deep crevices that bracketed his mouth.