Byrdswain pulled a folded white sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Mac. “See for yourself.”
“What’s this?”
“It appears to be your wife’s suicide note.”
Mac wrinkled his brow, “Suicide note?” He grabbed at the paper, unfolded it. “Where’d you get this?”
“Her computer, at the school. They let us print a copy.”
Mac examined the paper and whispered the note out loud.
K-Lap’s gone.
God’s punishing us.
so ashamed
forgive me.
He slowly lifted his head, his lip twitching. “Are you telling me she was having an affair with this guy?”
“Looks like it.” Byrdswain said.
“Can’t be. Not Rachel.”
“We think you might have found out about the affair, got angry, and pushed your wife off the platform.”
“That’s ridiculous. This is the first time I’ve heard of it.” Mac lowered his head into his hand, wiped his eyes, and the onion did its thing. “This is unbelievable.”
On their way to their car Sanchez looked over her shoulder and addressed her partner. “Why did you ask him about the gynecologist? We already checked that out and nothing was unusual, just a routine exam.”
“I just wanted to see how he’d react if he knew we were going there.”
“What did you think?”
“Not much there, really. I’m beginning to think you might be correct. He could be telling us the truth.”
Detective Sanchez nodded. “Looks like it.”
Chapter Seventy-Six
Miranda’s burner sang out. By this time, she had convinced Don she should treat Mac better or risk chasing him off—perhaps with all of their money. “Hello, Sweets,” she said, this time not sharing the phone with Don. “It’s good to hear from you. Everything okay?”
“I‘m scared shitless.”
“Why? Where are you?”
“Rachel’s. The cops were just here, asking a bunch of questions. They think the two murders are connected.”
Even though Mac had no idea it was Don who killed the gynecologist, Miranda and Don had already covered that base between themselves. “Don’t worry about it. They’re just fishing. Even if they do snoop around, the doctor told me he was going to keep her file sterile so there wouldn’t be anything suspicious about it.”
“Thank God. I wish you would have told me that.”
“I’m sorry, Sweets. It didn’t seem relevant at the time, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a small town and he had almost a thousand patients, so it’s no surprise that she went to him.”
“Whew. I said something similar.”
“It’s a dead end. That ought to be good enough for them to back off. Everything else go okay?”
“I’m more nervous than I expected. I want to see you. Hold you. Sleep with you.”
“You know I want to, Sweets, but we have to be very careful. Anybody sees us together, it would arouse suspicion. That’s why I came out to L.A. so we wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid.”
“Your head is always way ahead of me.”
“I’ve had extra time to think out the details, when you’ve been with her. There’ve been some lonely nights and weekends for me too, you know?”
“If not now, when?”
“I’ve been reading up on things like this. As I understand it, if there’s no sign of a crime, they try to wrap these things up fairly early so the family can grieve and begin to move on. Once they declare it a suicide, they won’t pay attention any longer. You have to be the grieving husband, go to the mortuary, attend the services, do what any other husband would do.”
“Mortuaries give me the creeps.”
As usually was the case, Miranda felt easiness when talking with Mac. There was give and take. He listened to her. Empathized with her, even when he was the one who was living in a pit of drama. “Ick. I know what you mean,” she said, “but you can handle it. Just do a closed casket service. They’re less suspicious and you won’t have to look at her.”
“Alright, but I still need to see you.”
“Not for a few more days, Sweets, but there’s something else I think you should do. I need you to get some money.”
“Is that a good idea?”
She shook her head as if he could see. “No problem. A rich guy in your position would need some operating capital. As long as you don’t do anything wild it’ll all appear to be normal.”
“Okay, I can stop by the bank. How much do you need?”
“A couple hundred to buy some things for Mickey and several thousand so you can rent a nicer place.”
“A new place? I’d love to get out of this home, but why don’t I just move in with you?”
“Too soon. We wouldn’t want anybody to think you have a full-time girlfriend already. You should move to someplace more befitting a stud muffin of your means. Something bigger, maybe with a little land and no reminders of a dead wife.”
“Great idea. Let’s do it.”
Impressed but not surprised, Miranda thought about how unselfish Mac was. He didn’t hesitate at all about the money that would help her brother to have a few extras for the first time in years. If Don weren’t there, she’d be the first to say I love you. Instead she simply enjoyed the moment.
“Are you crying?”
How could he read her so well? “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
* * *
Mac adjusted Annie’s kickstand and immediately began a conversation. “Good morning, friend,” he said while turning the key.
The quick start was as if she’d been waiting. “Welcome back.”
He sniffed his finger and wrapped his hand around the throttle handle. “Can you smell the onion?”
“Not really. What gives?”
“You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been going through.”
“After your girlfriend offed your wife?”
“Dealing with Rachel’s death is bad enough but I really feel sorry for Granny. She’s a nice old lady. Too bad she had to get hurt.”
“Didn’t you say she’d get over it?”
“That was before I got to know her.” He shifted into cruising gear, shook his head.
“It’s too late to worry about that now, isn’t it?”
“Spilled milk, I guess, but right now, I gotta get Miranda some money. Later they’re going to release Rachel’s car. Then I’m meeting Granny at the mortuary. That’ll be rough. After that we gotta figure out what to do with Rachel’s house and all her things.”
“That’s a load.”
“No shit. I wish you and I could just blow this town.”
“I’m game.”
“Don’t tempt me. I ain’t seen whites in my eyes for days. To top things off, there’s a couple detectives snooping around.” He glanced in the right-side mirror. The closest car, a gray late-model station wagon, was a half-block back. He gently dipped into the turn lane, coasted to the intersection and caught the light. He turned right and accelerated. A long block ahead, the bank was across the street. Before he dipped Annie into the turn lane, he checked her mirror and then raised his eyebrows. The wagon had made the same turn and was way back there, moving slowly. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
The first whiff of Aunt Gerry’s cooking jarred Stump awake. Unfortunately, as soon as his brain reminded him of his mother and Dogg, the stomach monster stole away his appetite all over again. He wanted to go back to sleep where he could forget it all. He wanted his old life back. He wanted his mom.
The bedroom door opened. “Come eat a pancake,” Uncle Dirk said. A lazy glance to Willie’s bed revealed that he’d gone off to school where all he’d have to worry about was taking tests and getting laughed at in gym class. Stump scoffed at the false importance his peers lent to such activities.
Aunt Gerry’s hair was drawn back in a ponytail. As before, h
er eyes were bloodshot, her robe untidy. Somehow, some cinnamon pancakes made their way to the table. “Morning,” was all he could think of to say.
“Good morning, Honey” she repeated, then gave him a hug.
He halfheartedly forked a pancake, doused it in margarine and poured a quarter-bottle of syrup all over it. In a previous time, Aunt Gerry might have reprimanded him for being so wasteful, but she simply slid him a cup of hot tea as she’d been doing since he was released from the hospital. “How’s your throat?”
“You know something, Aunt Gerry?” he said, softly. “I owe you an apology.”
“Why? For what?”
“Until mom died, I never really understood how much you guys love me and Willie. You’ve helped me a whole bunch of times, but I just took everything for granted. I thought you were silly for making me use good grammar and not wanting me to cuss and everything. I’m sorry for all of that. I should have appreciated you more. I promise to try harder.”
“Oh, my goodness. Now you’re going to make me cry again.” She bent and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s one of the sweetest things anybody’s ever said to me, Stump. Anybody. Ever.”
Some other time Stump would have thought the tears that swam their way into his eyes were corny. “I just want to say thank you and I love you.”
Aunt Gerry squeezed his neck just as the doorbell rang. Stump followed her to the living room, hot tea in hand. It was the elder fireman who had escorted Stump to the ambulance a few days earlier. “I’m sorry I look a fright,” Aunt Gerry said. “Things haven’t been easy around here lately.”
“I understand, ma’am.” He turned to Stump. “How are you holding up?”
“I guess I’m okay. My throat still hurts a little, but that’s about it.”
“I’m so sorry about your mom. That’s one of the most difficult things about my job.”
“I never knew you guys had to be so brave.”
The chief nodded. “We finished our investigation and thought you’d like to know what we found out.”
“Yes. Please,” Aunt Gerry said. “Please come in. Sit down.”
“We’ve seen this kind of thing before,” he began. “It happens too often, especially in some of the older neighborhoods.”
Stump swallowed some tea and rubbed his throat as he listened carefully.
“It appears there were quite a few highly flammable items in the center of the home where the washer and dryer and hot water heater were.”
Stump clenched his teeth, thinking about all his magazines and the tax returns and the Christmas wrapping paper.
“Near as we can tell, sometime during the storm some paper sacks must have fallen off the top shelves.” Stump recalled all the paper that he and Willie stuffed around the metal box when they looked for a birth certificate. He set down his tea.
“There was some paint thinner in a can and some paint brushes. When the items from the shelves hit the can, it must have tipped over, spilling the thinner and spreading fumes everywhere.”
Aunt Gerry lifted her hands to her mouth “Oh, no,” she said.
Stump’s stomach monster bit him.
“By that time, Ms. Randolph had begun a bath, which caused the hot water heater to kick on and the whole place ignited. All the rising heat brought down anything else that was loose on the shelves. There were lots of magazines and other combustibles.”
“And she didn’t hear any of it because she likes to play her music when she bathes,” Gerry added, whimpering.
“That’s probably right. We also found some open windows. Throw in wooden doors and poisonous, pitch-black smoke from burning carpets and it just takes a few minutes for a fire to close off the entire house.”
Another gusher of tears flooded Stump’s eyes. “This is all my fault,” he cried between gasps. “Mom asked me over and over to clean out that room. But I made excuse after excuse. If I’d done what she asked me—“
“That’s part of it, son,” the fireman said, cutting Stump off. He sat forward, raised a hand. “The bigger issue was those bars. They appear to have been installed before there were building codes. That’s one of the problems with the older neighborhoods. These days, when consumers install bars like that they have to pull a permit and have safety latches that operate from the inside—precisely to prevent situations like this.”
“Why didn’t anybody say anything?” Aunt Gerry asked through her own flowing tears.
“Grandfather clauses. When they change the codes it’s only for new construction and remodels. Not anybody else.”
Stump shook his head. “I don’t care about any of that shit. If I would have done what my mom asked me to do, she’d still be alive today.” He wept wildly. “I killed my mom. I killed my mom.”
With tear-filled eyes, Aunt Gerry sprung to his side and pulled him to her. “It was an accident, Honey.”
“No it wasn’t, Aunt Gerry. I killed her.”
“I’m very sorry for all of you,” the fireman said. “It’s not really anybody’s fault. It’s the combination of a few bad things that happened all at once. As I said, these things sometimes happen in the older areas.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
As much as the thought terrified and sickened her, Miranda resigned herself to the inevitable fact that she was destined to play a role in the demise of either Mac or Don. At the moment, she and Don were at the Pier Market Restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf, where there were candles and flowers on the tables and soft background music. Miranda slipped her right foot out of her pumps and rubbed it on Don’s leg as they waited for an after-dinner glass of tawny port.
“We gotta get more cash,” Don said.
Miranda reached her fingers out and touched Don’s lips. “We said we were going to forget about things like that for tonight.”
The waiter arrived with their wine, slowly removed the cork and offered it to Don. “No thanks,” Don said.
Undeterred, the waiter poured the port into a crystal glass and passed it gracefully to Don. Without examining the contents he sniffed at the edge of the glass, as if he wanted to get the exercise over with.
Miranda reached her hand nearly half-way across the table. “Thank you for making all of this possible, Donnie.” She slowly withdrew her hand, hoping Don would hold it like he did on visitor’s day.
“You know something,” he said, missing the hint. Sometimes I forget what a beautiful woman you are.”
She raised her eyebrows, rubbed her bare foot on his leg again. “How nice. What made you say that?”
“I dunno. I guess I finally had a moment to pay attention.”
“You’ll have to do that more often. I like it when you take the time to appreciate me.”
“Yeah. I know I could do better, but—“ He looked at his watch. “We’ve already been here long enough. What would you say to us heading back to our room?”
“What’s the rush?” she asked softly, trying to get him to enjoy the moment. “We haven’t even finished dinner yet.”
“I know, but you make me horny.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but we have all night. I’m looking forward to some port and dessert.”
Don pursed his lips. “Okay, but you’re looking so good, I don’t know how long I can wait.” He may have been a little too direct, but it was nice to hear that he was paying attention to her as a woman.
As soon as they ate their dessert, he pushed his plate back. “I gotta get out of here. Let’s at least go for a walk or something.”
Outside, the brisk salt air filled their lungs. Miranda took Don’s hand, and they crossed the street to the boardwalk overlooking the Pacific. Once there, a wooden handrail was all that separated them from the relentless waves that played tag under the moonlight. A handful of pigeons nervously pecked at the boardwalk for crumbs while a lone gull with a mangled foot limped along as if to escort them to the best spot before it flew off. They leaned up against the rail and gazed over the water toward the far-of
f lights of small boats bobbing up and down. Miranda leaned gently into Don’s side. “Put your arm around me, Donnie.”
Don did, then he tapped the top of the handrail. “What does this remind you of?”
She cringed, knowing precisely what he meant. She considered admonishing him, but chose discretion instead. “You know what?” she whispered. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
She lifted her purse slightly. “It’s in here. Close your eyes.”
Don grinned. “Okay. Cool.” He did as requested.
“Do you know why I’m a lot colder than you are right now?”
He tilted his head. “Colder? Not really.”
“Keep your eyes closed,” she reminded him as she pulled a pair of white lacey panties from her purse. “See if you can guess what I’m rubbing on your face?” She lightly draped the delicate undies across his forehead and slowly, teasingly, guided them up and down and from side to side and then rubbed them gently on his cheeks and eyes and lips.
With his eyes still closed, Don tapped a lone finger across the silky material and a wide toothy smile washed across his face. “Oooh, you naughty girl.”
“I didn’t think I’d need to wear them tonight,” she said. “Now you have to take a two-part test.” She placed the panties in his hand and lifted his arms slightly before she leaned into him. They wrapped themselves tightly together and slowly, slowly, slowly enjoyed each other’s lips and tongues. Miranda moaned softly. Moments later she gently pulled away and whispered, “Congratulations. You passed the oral part of the exam.”
“The oral part?” he murmured as he opened his eyes.
She touched his lips with her index finger. “The second half of the test has to be taken back at the hotel.”
“I’m in.” Don held up her bikinis. “What do I do with these?”
She smiled and moved his hands toward the rail. “Leave them right here.”
In their car, and on their way back to their hotel, Miranda knelt on the seat and teasingly played with his hair and kissed his ears and neck. She ran her hand around his thigh. He reached for her, but she quickly placed his hand back on the steering wheel. “Not while you’re driving. That would be unsafe.“
When they got to the elevator, Miranda leaned into Don, encouraging him to put his arm around her, but it seemed as if he was simply going through the motions. They arrived at their floor and he quickly scooted her toward their room. Barely inside, he grabbed at her clothes. “What’s the rush?” she whispered. “We have plenty of time.”