Shattered Spirits Page 9

  My spirits instantly rose. “Really?”

  “Yup. We’re going to have a picnic. Hot dogs, potato salad, and baked beans.”

  The word ‘picnic’ instantly made me tense. “Are we eating outside?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it, but we can if you want.”

  The thought of traversing the driveway, to the deck, and then up the steps—and having to repeat the process on the way back—was enough to raise my hackles. I’d traveled far enough that day. “Maybe we could go outside in August,” I suggested.

  “It’s not all that far away,” she said optimistically.

  Yes. I had to keep reminding myself that a broken leg wasn’t forever. It was a damned inconvenience, but I would heal in a matter of months and my life would go on pretty much as it had. Okay, I might not have a job, and with an empty bank account I’d be flat broke, but at least I’d be able to walk on my own two feet again—something those who’d lost limbs couldn’t say and do.

  I wondered again if I should mention my new financial crisis to Richard and Brenda but decided against it. It could wait. And yet, the whole thing bothered me. I was such a small fish in the grand scheme of things. If someone hacked Richard’s bank accounts—and he banked at the same branch as me—they could have fleeced him for millions. Why steal my paltry two grand? Somehow it didn’t seem worth a hacker’s time and effort.

  “You look pensive,” Richard observed.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Our futures. But then my brain is so scattered, the crap I have to take to stay ahead of this leg,” I said sourly, “makes me feel foggy.”

  “You’re not taking all that much,” Brenda piped up.

  “Believe me, it’s more than I want.”

  “Don’t miss taking the anti-inflammatories,” Richard said.

  I almost laughed. “I won’t—if someone reminds me.”

  “I’m on it,” Brenda said, still bouncing a giggling CP. “But if we’re going to eat before midnight, I’d better open that can of Grandma Brown’s beans, doctor them up, and put them in the oven to bake.”

  “Go for it,” Richard encouraged her.

  Brenda snagged the baby and got up. “You can sit here by yourselves, or you can come and keep me company in the kitchen.”

  I was game, but Richard’s eyes widened and he seemed to blanch. Was it because Herschel was just a short walk through the butler’s pantry, ensconced in Brenda’s craft room? The whole idea that my ten-times-smarter-than-me brother had some kind of phobia was still pretty startling.

  “I’m not sure I can raise my sorry ass,” I said, hoping to cover for me and Richard.

  “That’s okay,” Brenda said. “Maggie probably won’t be here until six. You’ve got an hour to cool your heels. And Betsy and I have lots to to do get ready, don’t we baby girl?”

  CP just giggled.

  They left the room, leaving us guys alone.

  I wondered if I dared have another drink. Probably not. Then again, if I could hold off on another pain pill for a couple of hours, why shouldn’t I? I decided to wait to see if the doctor in front of me would offer a refill.

  “What’s our next step?”

  Richard looked up from his drink. “Step?”

  “Yeah, if we’re going to go through with this business venture.”

  He exhaled a long breath. “I guess I go to the library tomorrow and try to find out more about Alice’s death.”

  “I could come with you—”

  He shook his head. “I don’t need company, and you don’t need to be on your feet more than necessary.”

  Thank you for that. Then again, it meant another boring day lying around doing nothing. Maybe I’d call Dave and see if he wanted to visit, after all.

  Once again we heard footsteps on the parquet floor outside Richard’s study, but it wasn’t Brenda. “Hey, guys, how’s it going?” Maggie asked.

  “Hi, Maggie, Richard said.

  I turned to see my smiling lady. “What are you doing here? Brenda told us not five minutes ago that you wouldn’t be here for at least an hour.”

  She bent down to kiss me, but I could see she held something behind her back. “I got out of work early and I brought you a present.” Her arm whipped around and she thrust a long, narrow plastic rod toward me.

  “It’s a gripper,” Richard said.

  “I call it a picky-uppy thing,” Maggie said with a laugh. The gripper had a handhold with a trigger, while the bottom had pincers to grab stuff. “It was Lily’s. She left it when she moved to Florida to live with Gary and Brian. I thought you might be able to use it.”

  “I sure can, thanks.” I tried it out by reaching for a magazine on Richard’s coffee table. Got it first try! “This is going to make life a lot easier.”

  “Sit down and stay awhile,” Richard invited her.

  “No, thanks. Brenda tells me there’s a beer in the fridge with my name on it. I brought store-bought potato salad that needs some serious upgrades before its edible, too. Besides, I need some girlfriend time.”

  “Call us when supper’s ready,” Richard called as Maggie retreated.

  I used the gripper to pick up another magazine, moving it from one end of the table to the other. “This really will come in handy,” I said, and for the first time in a week felt hopeful.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t think to get you one before this.”

  They’d already done far too much for me. “I’ve got one now.” I pulled the gripper’s trigger a few times and smiled. What a great toy. I could see uses for it well after my leg healed and decided Maggie wasn’t getting it back. When she got old and frail, I’d buy a new one for her. I set it down by my crutches.

  Okay, now what could Richard and I talk about? He was hot that we should start a business venture. That could either be a safe or volatile subject. What I didn’t want was for it to drive us apart. Maybe I should—and God I hated the term—leave my comfort zone and test the waters.

  “What if we actually could pull off investigating cold cases. How am I supposed to live on what could be no income?”

  “You don’t want charity from me. You made that clear twenty-three years ago,” he said neutrally, but still—I winced. “I don’t need the money.”

  “Then you’re saying the spoils all come to me?” He shrugged. “And how—and more importantly who—do we bill for what we do?”

  Richard seemed to squirm. “I haven’t exactly figured that out.”

  “Charging for our, or at least my time—and enough to make a living wage—would be expensive for the average Joe. That means we’d be cutting out a large portion of the populace when it comes to clients. And, let’s face it; the majority of cold cases come from a part of the county where money is the scarcest.”

  “I’ve thought of that. And the more I think about it, the more I’m sure you’re right. My whole idea to set something up was to make a difference. Not just to help survivors get closure, but to help restless spirits find the same kind of resolution.” He looked me straight in the eye. “Would you honestly let pride stand in the way of that happening?”

  “You’re saying I should just give in and once and for all attach myself to the Alpert teat?”

  “It’s not like you wouldn’t earn it—the same way I did: through misery.”

  I gave a mirthless laugh. “Were you miserable?”

  “Not too long ago, you asked me if I’d ever had fun.”

  I sobered, remembering that conversation when we’d gone to New York to find my wife’s killer. He’d admitted he didn’t know how to have fun. Maybe I should have admitted to him then that I was just as clueless.

  “I dunno, Rich. I’ve worked damn hard to try and make it on my own. It’s still a bitter thing to have to accept as much as I do from you. But don’t take that wrong,” I hurriedly added. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me—past and present. But an aversion to feeling indebted is ingrained in me. I’m not sure I can
overcome it.”

  “Then, realistically, what do you think you can—and want—to do if your time at The Whole Nine yards is over?”

  “If I hadn’t been hit by a Goddamn SUV I would have never had to contemplate the question.”

  “You can’t change what happened.”

  No, I couldn’t.

  “Maybe you should look at my money in a different light.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked skeptically.

  “My grandmother treated you abominably. Some of the money behind me came from an inheritance she got from her family, but the truth is the majority of it came from my grandfather. He worked hard to earn it. Like you, he came from nothing. And let’s face it, being married to my grandmother—he earned every penny of what financial gain she brought to the marriage.”

  He had that right.

  “And if it’s any consolation, the old man liked you. He went to bat for you on more than one occasion. He had many regrets when it came to our mother, too.”

  “The poor guy was pussy whipped.”

  “I’ll say. He married for better or for worse, and I don’t think he ever had a happy day with my selfish, self-centered grandmother. And I’m positive he would have wanted you to benefit from his labors, because he was never able to help our mother. He felt tremendous guilt about it.”

  Old Mr. Alpert and I had never been friends, but I hadn’t hated him the way I’d despised his malicious wife.

  “He went to bat for me?”

  Richard nodded. “The day you left for the Army, my grandmother had Gordy—” the Alpert’s handyman “—take down our basketball hoop.” He paused. “I had an apoplectic fit and—” He paused, and I got the feeling there was more to the story than he was likely to admit. “Grandfather was almost as angry as I was.”

  “You left only a week or two later,” I recalled.

  “Yeah. I only saw them a couple of times after that, but every time I spoke with Grandfather on the phone, he asked about you.”

  “He did?”

  Richard nodded. “I’m pretty sure he’d be as proud of what you’ve accomplished as I am.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a fucking failure. I’ve never amounted to anything,” I said, and the sting of it really hit me—like being doused in acid.

  “Even before you had this psychic insight, you were good at what you did—solving crimes for your insurance company. What you did gave a lot of people closure. There were letters, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I kind of … looked into the files at the place you worked for before you were mugged.”

  “You hacked into my employer’s files?” I asked, aghast.

  “Only those that pertained to you. There were a bunch of thank you letters from grateful clients.”

  What the hell was he talking about?

  “There must have been twenty of them—thanking the company for coming up with grounds for lawsuits; for successful resolutions—all tied to your investigations. They never shared them with you?”

  If they did—I didn’t remember.

  “One of your managers wrote that you were the hardest-working investigator he ever supervised; that you always went the extra mile. And your performance appraisals were always top-notch. Until that last one,” he added.

  Yeah, until after my wife Shelley’s death and I’d switched from the crime unit to fraud. Then I’d been thrown to the wolves and eaten alive.

  I had to do a mental head shake. Maybe everything he said was true, but that still had no bearing on where I was at this point in my life. I could barely hack working part-time at a bar. True, the skull-pounding headaches I got had been coming with less frequency these past few months, but when they hit I was virtually incapacitated. How long would a conventional employer put up with the kind of absences I needed to take just to survive?

  “I’m going to need some time to digest all this,” I admitted.

  “Like you said, we’ve got nothing but time.”

  That was for damn sure.

  8

  Brenda wasn’t kidding when she said we’d have a picnic. I hadn’t taken her literally, but between them, she and Maggie moved some of the furniture in the living room, and Brenda spread out a blanket. Richard grilled the dogs, but was as unenthusiastic as I was about sitting on the floor—and we opted for comfortable chairs while the women sat on the blanket and called us party poopers. The adults juggled paper plates and CP thought it a hoot to have her Mom and Auntie Maggie down at her own level as she ate her chopped up hot dog.

  Richard kept looking over his shoulder, as though Herschel was about to pounce at any minute, and nobody mentioned that miniature elephant in the room. I wondered if Brenda had mentioned Richard’s problem to Maggie. I wasn’t about to ask—in case she didn’t know. No way did I want to embarrass my brother.

  It was Brenda who called the picnic to an end when it was CP’s bedtime. The furniture was pushed back into place and Richard and I shared an after-dinner drink and some innocuous conversation while the ladies cleared up. When they reappeared, Brenda urged Richard to retire to his study, and while he moved to comply, I saw the girlfriends share a knowing look, although I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it. Maggie seemed self-assured, while Brenda’s expression seemed less than enthusiastic.

  Once Richard and Brenda were gone, Maggie sat beside me on the couch. “That was fun.” She reached for my hand. At her touch, I was bombarded with a myriad of sensations. She definitely had something on her mind, and whatever it was, she was enthused and optimistic about it. Meanwhile, my hackles rose.

  “How’s your leg doing?”

  I shrugged. “Yesterday was not good. I fell.”

  “So Brenda said.”

  “And it’s been a long, tiring day. I went back to my apartment last night and—”

  “Yeah; Brenda told me all about it. I’ll bet you’re glad to have Herschel for company, though.”

  I’d slept for hours that afternoon, and the poor cat had been cooped up alone in the craft room for hours, so it was Herschel who desperately needed company—not me.

  “I’ll be glad to get rid of this cast and get my life back,” I admitted.

  “I’ll bet. You know, I was kind of thinking along those lines, too.”

  Here it comes, I thought with dread.

  “I was thinking …” Maggie began, sounding wistful. “It might be a good time for me to relocate.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked. Maybe I was wrong.

  “Yeah. My job is in Tonawanda. It’s a pain in the ass to drive all that way in winter.”

  “I thought you were happy in Clarence.”

  “I was, but now that Lily has moved to Florida, I’m not sure I want to deal with being a landlady. This is the time to go, too. Property values are skyrocketing. I could make a killing.”

  That made sense, but I had a feeling there was more to her decision.

  She snuggled closer to me. “Maybe it’s time for us to make a bigger commitment.”

  Uh-oh.

  “What are you saying?” I asked, hoping she didn’t catch the concern I felt.

  “We’ve known each other for over two years. Maybe it’s time we moved in together.”

  “Now?” I asked, looking down at the brace encasing my upper leg and the cast below it on my lower leg.

  “Well, obviously not right now, but once I sell my house it would be something to think about.”

  I didn’t reply. The idea scared me shitless.

  “What do you think?” she pushed.

  I let out a breath. “As you say, it’s something to think about.”

  “But?” she asked.

  Oh, yeah. She’d caught my lack of enthusiasm. But it wasn’t about being with her. It was a much more fundamental concern.

  “Lily paying monthly rent was what helped you pay your mortgage, right?”

  “Yeah.”

 
“How much did she pay?”

  “Six hundred.”

  I’d paid more than three times that for a bedroom, tiny bath, and galley kitchen back in Manhattan. But Richard charged me chump change for my digs over his garage. He wouldn’t have charged me a nickel if I hadn’t insisted on paying something. As a part-time bartender, I lived on tips—which were never a given, and I was pretty sure that job was now history.

  “Maggs, look at me. I can’t even live in my own home right now. There’s no way I can even think about moving.”

  “Oh, sure—I didn’t mean this week. But I figure it will take at least two or three months to sell my place and then find another. And, of course, I want you along to help choose my next home.”

  I nodded—but the truth was, I wasn’t ready to move to the next level in our relationship, and the reason was pretty damn clear. I didn’t want to be a financial burden to Maggie. I absolutely loathed the fact that I was far too dependent on Richard’s generosity, but he was a multi-millionaire. He could well afford to take care of his ne’er-do-well kin. Maggie wasn’t in that position. But I also had a feeling that no matter what I said, I was going to end up on Maggie’s shit list. There was only one thing I could do.

  “Maggs, can we talk about this after I get out of this stinking cast?”

  She let out a loud—and obviously exasperated—breath. “I’ve gone over the numbers and … I can carry my house for a couple of months, and then I’m going to be in the red.”

  She’d lived in the duplex for almost twelve years. She’d been collecting rent from her ex-mother-in-law for nearly as long.”

  “But—?”

  “As part of the divorce, I bought out Gary’s equity. That meant the mortgage went from reasonable to more than double. Even though Lily was paying me rent, I still had to take out a home equity loan when I lost my job at Bison Bank and was unemployed for so long. And now I make less at my new job. I’m sinking fast,” she admitted.

  “Taking in a tenant would help.”

  “I told you—I don’t want to do that.”

  “I know, but it would help.”

  “I guess,” she grudgingly admitted.

  “You could still put the house up for sale. The tenant’s rental agreement would have to be honored by the next owner, but it would help you out in the short run.”