I remembered Tracy saying Heather had a steady boyfriend. And I remembered her mentioning that their parents didn’t like him. No wonder. I couldn’t recall the kid’s name, and we hadn’t yet been introduced, but I didn’t like him either. His appearance didn’t make for a favorable first impression. I’ve had plenty of sensitivity training over the years, complete with talks about not judging people by appearances. That’s fine when appearance issues aren’t ones that come by choice, but defacing your body by adding optional accessories changes the whole equation.
“It’s possible your dad isn’t actually under arrest,” I said, answering in Tracy’s stead. “But they did take him in for questioning.”
Heather came over to the couch and gave me a hug. “Hi, Uncle Beau,” she said, plopping down on the couch and snuggling up next to me. “I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t see your car.”
I would have appreciated the hug more if it hadn’t been accompanied by the distinctively sweetish odor of marijuana smoke. It clung to her clothes and hair. My heart constricted. What had become of
“But this is, like, so stupid,” Heather continued. “They think Daddy killed my mother? He wouldn’t do something like that, never in a million years. Can’t you make them understand that?”
If Heather was grieving about the death of her biological mother, it wasn’t apparent in her demeanor. High or not, her main concern was for her father. So was mine.
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
Jared turned to me, his eyes wide. “They think Daddy killed Mom?”
“No, Jared,” Heather answered. “Not Mom, my mother. You don’t even know her.”
Jared looked mystified. “We don’t have the same mother?” he asked.
Obviously, all of this was unwelcome news to poor little Jared. His innocent question meant Amy Peters would have even more difficult explaining to do.
“Oh,” Heather added as an afterthought. She tilted her head in the direction of the boy lingering in the doorway. “By the way, this is Dillon, my boyfriend. And this is my Uncle Beau. He’s a cop, too. Like my dad.”
Dillon nodded at me and shambled a few steps into the room. His hands were buried in pockets that hung so low on his hips he could barely reach them. He sank into an easy chair across from the couch. Heather immediately abandoned me in favor of perching on the arm of Dillon’s chair.
“Where’s Mom, still at work?”
Tracy answered. “She found an attorney for Dad. Remember Mr. Ames?”
Heather nodded.
“She and Mr. Ames went to be with Daddy while they’re questioning him.”
“Just like on TV,” Jared marveled.
“This isn’t like on TV,” I corrected. “It’s a lot more serious than that.”
“But you and Mr. Ames will be able to get him out, won’t you?” Heather asked. Her blue eyes searched my face. I tried to glimpse her pupils, to ascertain whether or not she was using. From across the room, I couldn’t tell, and she certainly sounded lucid enough.
“That’s the problem,” I said. “Your mother’s homicide is being treated as a possible case of officer-related domestic violence. By law, that has to be investigated by the attorney general’s Special Homicide Investigation Team, which happens to be where I work.”
Tracy brightened. “Good,” she said. “That means you’ll be working on Daddy’s case then.”
I shook my head. “No, it means exactly the opposite. Since your father and I are friends, my involvement in the investigation would constitute a conflict of interest. I’ve been ordered to stay out of it completely. I came by here today, against my boss’s direct orders, because we’re friends and because Tracy called and asked for my help. But after this-until this case is settled-I’m going to have to keep my distance.”
“They seemed mean,” Jared put in.
“Who seemed mean?” I asked.
“The man and woman who took Daddy away.”
“They’re not mean, Jared,” I told him. “I know Mel Soames and Brad Norton. They’re both nice people. They were just doing their job.”
Molly Wright appeared in the doorway just then. “I’m about to start dinner,” she said. “Who all’s staying?”
“Not me,” Dillon said.
“I’m not staying, either,” I answered.
“And I’m not hungry,” Tracy said.
Shaking her head, Molly stalked back down the stairs the way she had come. I stood up. “I have to go,” I told them. “Don’t talk to the reporters if you can help it.”
“Not even to tell them they’re stupid?” Heather asked.
“Not even. Especially not to tell them that. Their job is to find out every detail of your father’s life. The more you antagonize them, the worse it’s going to be.”
“Are you going to talk to them?” Jared asked.
“No, I’m not, and I’m not going out the front way, either. I’m going out the back door and over your neighbors’ fences, the same way I got here.” I gave Heather a meaningful look. “I have it on good authority that there’s a lot of that going on these days-sneaking in and out.”
Heather knew I had nailed her. She had the good grace to blush slightly and to drop her gaze.
“For the time being, it might be a good idea to cut that out,” I added. “Your mom has enough going on right now without having to worry about her kids coming and going at all kinds of ungodly hours.”
Heather nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be good.”
I glanced questioningly at Tracy.
“Me, too,” she said.
“Good,” I said, and I was on my way.
I felt a bit silly retracing my snowy backyard route. Fortunately, it gets dark early in Seattle in the winter. I don’t think any of the neighbors noticed, and Mohammad was waiting in the cab right where I’d left him.
“Glad to see you,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to stay all night. Where to next, back home?”
“Let me check.”
I called the number Mel had used much earlier when she had left her message. I could tell from the prefix that it was her cell. I wasn’t at all surprised when she didn’t answer.
“Sorry it took so long to get back to you,” I told her voice mail. “I’ve been busy. I’m heading home now. Give me a call there later if you still want to see me tonight. Otherwise, we can talk tomorrow.”
“Home, then,” I told Mohammad.
Lots of people had evidently taken the day off. It was the middle of rush hour, but traffic was much lighter than usual. When we reached Belltown Terrace, I paid Mohammad what was on the meter and gave him another sizable tip. Jerome had another eager customer lined up and waiting the moment I stepped out of the cab.
I went upstairs. My body, especially my shins, were feeling a little worse for wear after my uphill run earlier in the day. I was looking forward to spending some quality clicker time in my recliner. Grateful to be rid of my boots, I tossed them into the entryway closet and pulled on a ratty but well-loved sweater. Naturally the phone rang the moment I sat down. It was Freddy Mac.
“What gives?” I asked.
“The roads are so bad up on Whidbey that Sister Mary Katherine decided to stay over last night, tonight, and maybe even tomorrow if things don’t improve,” he told me. “She had already checked out of her room before we had lunch yesterday. Most of the hotels were booked solid, but I was finally able to get her into a room at the Westin downtown. Since she was still around and since I had several weather-related cancellations, we went ahead and did another session today. I have one more tape to add to your collection. I think we’re making real progress now, Beau. She exhibited far less resistance this time around, and she was able to uncover a few more telling details. Would you like to see the tape?”
“Absolutely.”
