Текст книги "Dead Giveaway"
Автор книги: Joanne Fluke
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
SEVEN
Betty Matteo sat alone in her suite, watching the television monitor. Her secret friend hadn’t come tonight. Perhaps it wasn’t time. He’d told her he could never come when anyone else was awake.
The revolving shelf right next to her bed contained hundreds of her favorite movies. Betty could play a DVD any time she wanted, even though she sometimes had trouble remembering how to read the titles.
She knew there was something wrong with her mind. It was a disease, and at first, she’d been able to remember its name. Now that was gone, too. One of the symptoms of the disease was that people forgot its name. There was a word for that sort of thing and Betty concentrated on trying to remember it. It took a long time, but she finally remembered. The name of the disease she had was ironic.
The man called Jack had been very patient about explaining things to her. And he was so good about wearing his name sign every time. Betty knew that she loved him. There was a good, warm feeling when he came into her room. And he was much nicer than Nurse.
Sometimes Betty took great pleasure in the fact that she couldn’t remember Nurse’s real name. Nurse gave her shots that confused her, that reminded her of the piñata she’d brought back from Mexico City. The gaily painted papier-mâché sculpture shattered when a blindfolded child hit it with a stick, spilling the contents down like rain, and that was exactly what the inside of her head felt like after one of Nurse’s needles.
Betty wished she could tell Jack to find someone new for Nurse, someone who was kind and cheerful, someone who cared about her and wanted her to get better. But every time she tried to tell Jack about Nurse, she couldn’t find the words. They were there in her mind and she thought she was pronouncing them correctly, but no one seemed to understand what she said. Names and words. They always eluded her. But she was proud that she still remembered how to use the remote control to switch through the forbidden channels.
It was growing dark outside and soon it would be time for her secret friend to come through the door. Betty was sure she’d known his name once upon a time, but she couldn’t remember it now.
Betty turned her attention to the screen once again. The movie she was watching was very familiar and she put a blank disk in the machine to record it. She smiled as she saw the red light on the console start to glow. She could record a movie. That was almost as good as remembering names and words, wasn’t it?
This movie took place by the water. It was a big swimming place and she almost remembered where it was. They’d covered it after the cowgirl had found something that frightened her. Betty smiled as she watched. She loved scary movies as long as everything ended happily ever after. And this movie had her favorite actors.
There were footsteps in the hall and Betty quickly switched the channel to something safe. No one could know she was watching the forbidden channels, no one except the man called Jack. He had warned her about it so many times, it was almost like remembering.
“Do you need anything?” Nurse opened the door and stuck her head in. She was a black-haired woman who looked like the bird who said “Nevermore,” with a sharp beak and beady eyes and black shiny feathers.
Betty tried to force out the word Nurse wanted to hear, but it was no use. She’d lost it.
“Water? A little snack?”
This time Betty remembered and she shook her head. That meant no.
“I’ll let you watch television for another hour, but then you have to sleep.” Nurse came into her room to draw the drapes. She even moved like the Nevermore bird, with quick little steps. Her head turned from side to side and her glittering eyes watched Betty as she pulled the drapes to shut out the night. Betty shivered as she remembered that the Nevermore bird ate dead things called carrion.
How could she remember a word like that and then forget her friends’ names? This disease was very curious. Things she hadn’t thought of in years would come back in startling detail. She would know them for a brief instant and then she’d forget them again. Alzheimer’s, that was the name of her disease. And it was progressive. She couldn’t quite remember what that meant, but suddenly sadness overcame her.
“Buzz if you need me.” Nurse closed the door behind her. Immediately, Betty felt better. She knew she’d done everything just right. Nurse was gone and she hadn’t given her the needle. Now she could watch the forbidden channels again.
Betty smiled as she used the remote control to switch to another movie. This one was even better. Two people were getting off a machine on skis in a big garage. The man turned toward the camera and Betty clapped her hands. He was a very important foreign actor and she was glad he’d come back to star in her secret movies. The cowgirl who shared her in-between name was in love with him.
“Here comes the elevator.” Vanessa watched the doors expectantly. “I bet it’s my fitness instructor. Does anybody want to give me odds?”
Jayne shook her head. Even if she was a gambler, she wouldn’t bet on anything concerning Vanessa.
Hal grinned. “What do you want to bet, Vanessa? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? More?”
“You know something, Hal?” Vanessa looked suspicious. “You never bet money unless you’re sure. Did you see who was on that snowmobile?”
Hal shook his head. “I didn’t see a thing, Vanessa. But I know it’s not your fitness instructor.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I called yesterday and told him you no longer required his services.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means I fired him. I canceled your sessions, Vanessa. Since I’m paying the bills, I decided he was an unnecessary expense.”
“How could you do that to me?” Vanessa looked at her husband in shock. “I need my workouts!”
“Then you’ll just have to use the spa like the rest of us. Let’s just say I didn’t approve of all the exercises he had you doing, especially that last little session you had in your room.”
Vanessa looked embarrassed for a brief moment. Then her expression changed to anger. “My workouts are private, Hal. You had no business spying on me! Besides, everything he does is part of my total body therapy.”
“That particular part of your body doesn’t need any more exercise.”
“But, Hal . . .” Vanessa began to pout. “He’s a trained expert. And I don’t know how to do my workouts without him.”
“You can always borrow my Jane Fonda tapes,” Laureen said smugly. “She shows you how to do everything.”
Vanessa glared at Laureen. “Jane Fonda’s only good for women over forty.”
The indicator light over the elevator blinked and Grace got out. Alone.
“Sh . . . shucks!” Moira gave a delighted laugh. “Grace! On a snowmobile?”
Grace nodded. “You never thought anything would drag me out in the cold. Right, Moira?”
“Right.” Moira rushed to embrace her, then poured her a cup of coffee. “I’m really glad to see you. But whatever possessed you to drive all the way up here?” Grace just smiled and Moira’s face turned slightly pink. “Well! It’s just incredible, that’s all. You’re the last person I expected to see. But Jayne said there were two people on the snowmobile. Who’s with you?”
“That’s a surprise. Clayton took him out to check on the building. They’ll be up here in a couple of minutes.”
Jayne’s heart began to pound in excitement. Who knew enough about the building to check on it? A structural engineer, of course. Or a builder. Or an architect. And he had to be someone they knew. If Grace had come up here with a stranger, she wouldn’t have said it was a surprise.
The indicator light on the elevator blinked again and Clayton got out, followed by a man holding a red and yellow ski mask.
“Paul!” Jayne jumped from her chair and ran across the floor to meet him, barely managing to keep from throwing her arms around him. “My God! What happened to your suit?”
“It is in the mothballs. Are you well, Jayne?”
“Oh, I’m fine, but the avalanche almost killed us all and poor Jack’s leg is broken something awful and just now I found a . . . a hand in our pool. And at first I thought it was yours!”
Paul looked down at her in total confusion. “You thought my hand was in the pool?”
“Yes, they have such a high suicide rate in Scandinavia. But that was only at first, before we found out that it was at least four years old. And I wrote you a song, but they’d never give it airtime on a classical station and I just couldn’t call you on the phone. Something about talking into those little holes is so dang impersonal and I like to see a person’s face when I . . . oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”
“I think you had better sit down, Jayne.” Paul led her over to a chair and sat down beside her. “You are beginning to sound like Grace.”
Marc came over with a mug of coffee and set it down in front of Paul. “Here, Paul. Drink this. I put some brandy in it.”
“Thank you.” Paul wrapped one hand around the mug, but he kept his other arm firmly around Jayne’s shoulders. It was an uncharacteristic display of affection in public, but he didn’t want to let her go. “Will you join us, Marc? And I would be very pleased if one of you will tell me about the hand from the pool.”
It took five minutes with everyone talking at once, but finally Paul had the complete story. “So you can understand why we need to notify the police right away,” Clayton continued, moving his chair closer. “As Marc pointed out, there’s the possibility that the bones are artificial, but we need the authorities to confirm it and we can’t contact them by phone or e-mail. We don’t have any means of communication at all now that Jack’s shortwave radio is broken.”
Paul could see that Clayton was looking at him expectantly. “Is there something you wish me to do?”
“Yes. I know this is an imposition, but you obviously know how to operate the snowmobile. We think you should go back to get the police. As soon as you warm up, of course.”
Jayne stared at Clayton in absolute shock. “No way, Clay! If you’re all fired-up to report those old bones, get your tail in gear and do it yourself!”
“She’s got a point, Clay.” Marc laughed. “You’re the only one here who thinks it’s an emergency.”
“Is that so? No one else thinks we should go to the police immediately?” Clayton waited, but no one spoke up. “All right, then. I’ve never shirked my civic duty. Come on, Rachael. Let’s go!”
Rachael frowned. “How did I get in on this? I agree that we have to file a report, but there’s no reason why it can’t wait until someone digs us out. Driving down the mountain at night on the back of a snowmobile is not my conception of civic duty.”
Clayton was about to make a sharp retort when he saw the tears that had gathered in Rachael’s eyes. She was clearly terrified at the prospect of leaving and he reached out to pat her hand. “You’re right, honey. The police can wait. I guess I just got rattled there for a minute.”
“Cabin fever.” Grace nodded. “I read a book about a family trapped in a blizzard, and how they were all going crazy knowing they couldn’t get out, and the snow was rattling against the windows, and the wind was howling louder than a pack of wolves and they’d used up the last of their food three days ago, and . . . I know, Moira. I’m babbling again.”
Moira grinned. “I hate like h . . . heck to say it, but I was already beginning to miss your babbling. What do Norwegians do when they get cabin fever, Paul?”
“My grandfather carved the furniture in winter while Grandmother needled.”
“She what?”
“Perhaps the word is not right, but she used big balls of wool to make mittens and stockings.”
“That’s called knitting,” Moira told him. “But they did something to take their mind off the weather, is that right?”
“Yes. The winter in Norway is many months.”
“Well, I don’t make furniture and I sure can’t knit.” Jayne began to smile. “Maybe we could do some work instead, like packing up Johnny’s stuff. Will you guys help me?”
“I will help.” Paul was the first to offer even though he was tired from his long trip. Jayne had obviously been glad to see him, but he didn’t know if her warm welcome would be extended to sharing their bed. There was bound to be an awkward moment and it might be wise to delay it as long as he could.
One by one the others chimed in, all except Vanessa. “I’m not setting foot in Johnny’s place. Those two guys might be hiding out in there.”
“What two guys?” Hal turned to his wife with a frown.
“The mean-looking ones that were there the day he left. I went down to say good-bye, but I split right away. They were straight out of The Godfather.”
Alan pointed at the glowing indicator over the elevator door. “Somebody’s coming.”
“Probably those mean-looking thugs from The Godfather, ” Laureen suggested with a chuckle. “Maybe they’re afraid Vanessa can identify them so they’ve come back to get rid of her.”
Vanessa jumped up. “I don’t think that’s very funny! You wouldn’t either if you’d seen them.”
“Just take it easy, Vanessa.” Marc reached out to pull her back into her chair. “There’s nobody hiding out in Johnny’s unit. I personally guarantee it. I’ve shown it to buyers.”
Vanessa nodded. “Okay, I believe you. But who’s coming up on the elevator?”
“Probably Betty’s nurse. I stopped down there to tell her we’d be up here if she needed us.”
The elevator doors opened and Walker stepped out. While Marc rushed to get him some hot coffee, Jayne turned to catch the smile that was spreading across Ellen’s face.
“Walker! How did you get here?”
“I took the KLV helicopter to the ranger station, and then I skied down. Who was on that snowmobile I heard?”
“Paul and Grace,” Moira spoke up. “What’s in the backpack, Walker?”
Walker handed it to Ellen. “The dye Ellen wanted. And a couple other items for survival in the wild. So fill me in, Moira. What happened?”
While everyone talked at once, Ellen unzipped the backpack and peered inside. Along with the dye were two other packages. She opened the first and discovered a bottle of her favorite Fumé Blanc, perfectly chilled. The second package looked like a shoe box and she almost laughed out loud as she lifted the lid and found fluffy white slippers with the face of a bunny on the toes. Just yesterday she’d mentioned that she needed new slippers. Silly and whimsical, these were the sort of thing she adored but would never have considered buying for herself.
“What did he bring you?” As Vanessa tried to peer into the backpack, Ellen closed it quickly.
“Just some things I needed from town.”
“Like what?” Vanessa wasn’t the type to give up easily, but Ellen knew everyone would tease her mercilessly if she showed them her new slippers. She glanced at Walker and saw that he was grinning, waiting for her to think up some way out of this awkward situation.
Ellen cleared her throat. “I told you, Vanessa. There’s the dye for my mannequins and some alcohol. And then, there’s . . . uh . . . something personal I needed.”
Vanessa zeroed in. “What is it, Ellen? You can tell us.”
Ellen noticed that Walker was still grinning and she shot a daggerlike look. “It’s nothing, Vanessa. I have a little problem with the hare on my feet.”
“You have hair on your feet?” Vanessa glanced down, but Ellen was wearing boots. “That’s really gross, Ellen. I hope Walker brought you a good depilatory.”
“Hold it!” Hal stood and held his arms up in a bid for silence. “My child-bride just used a five-syllable word. Cause for celebration.”
“Cut it out, Hal. I know lots of five-syllable words. I even know one that’s eleven. Antidisestablishmentarianism. So there!”
“I’m impressed, Vanessa. Now spell it.”
While Vanessa sputtered, Ellen glanced at Walker, who was cracking up. “We’re going down to pack Johnny’s things. Want to come along?”
“Sure.” Walker sobered instantly. He’d heard enough bits and pieces of gossip to put the whole story together, and packing her former lover’s possessions was bound to be an ordeal for Ellen.
Jayne spoke up. “Maybe we can find an address or a telephone number. I have to know where to ship Johnny’s stuff and I don’t have a clue.”
“I guess I’d better help you then,” Vanessa offered. “I learned how to search for clues by watching Columbo.”
Marc snorted. “Do you have a rumpled raincoat?”
“What?”
“Never mind, Vanessa.” Marc exchanged a sympathetic glance with Hal. “But if you come across a Sandy Koufax ball, I could sure use it. I know Johnny bought one at the auction last year.”
Vanessa looked puzzled. “What kind of ball was that?”
“A baseball. Sandy Koufax was a pitcher and it’s a ball from his perfect game.”
“Okay, Marc.” Vanessa nodded. “I’ll look around for a used baseball. But wouldn’t you rather have one that’s brand-new?”
EIGHT
“This gives me the creeps.” Vanessa shivered a little as they stepped into Johnny’s unit.
“What do you think we’re going to find?” Marc chuckled. “Johnny’s corpse?”
Vanessa turned to him in alarm. “Don’t say that! Nobody’s heard from Johnny since I saw him with those scary guys.”
“It’s all right, Vanessa.” Marc was still grinning. “I told you I showed this unit, and I would have noticed if Johnny’s body was here.”
“You didn’t open every closet, did you?”
Hal laughed. “If Johnny’s body was stuffed in a closet, we wouldn’t be able to get within a hundred yards of this place. Relax, child-bride. I guarantee there’s no body here.”
“But how can you tell?”
Hal groaned. “Use your head, Vanessa. Have you ever smelled hamburger that’s gone bad?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Let’s change the subject,” Walker interrupted, noticing that Ellen was turning pale. “Is the electricity still on? We didn’t bring flashlights.”
“Hold on.” Moira patted the wall until she found the switch and the hallway flooded with light. “Does anyone have a game plan?”
Jayne shook her head. “I thought we’d just start stuffing things in boxes.”
Moira shook her head. “That’s not the way to do it. I suggest we split up into groups. Do we have packing materials?”
“Johnny said he’d leave boxes and tape in the hall closet.” Jayne opened it and looked inside. “Yup. Everything’s here. Even a couple of wardrobe boxes and a dish pack.”
Moira took charge. “There’s a lot to do so let’s get our uh . . . tails in gear. Jayne and Paul? Why don’t you pack up the music rooms since you know about pianos and musical instruments. Ellen and Walker can help you. Grace and I’ll take the living room. Marc? You start in on the master bedroom and Laureen and Alan can pack up the kitchen.”
“Why do people always put me in the kitchen?” Laureen complained.
Alan put his arm around her shoulders. “Because you’re the expert. You’ll know what to pack and what to throw out.”
“That’s right,” Moira confirmed. “No insult intended, Laureen, but I wouldn’t know a truffle from a trifle and neither would anyone else in this group. Clayton and Rachael can take their pick of the rooms that are left over. And then they can wander around and poke their noses into everything, since they’re the lawyers.”
Rachael laughed. “That’s your conception of lawyers? People who poke their noses into everything?”
“Well, I didn’t mean it quite that way.” Moira grinned. “Vanessa and Hal? You’d better take the den. There’s a lot to pack in there. And if anyone finds a clue to Johnny’s whereabouts, just holler.”
Grace looked impressed. “You’re really organized, aren’t you, Moira?”
“Just used to directing my work crews. Is everyone set?”
Hal pulled Vanessa toward the den. “Come on, we’d better get started.”
“But they never start with the den on Columbo!”
Hal propelled her through the door. “Johnny practically lived in that room. If he left an address or a telephone number, it might be in there.”
“Oh.” Vanessa looked slightly mollified, but she turned to deliver a parting shot. “At least we didn’t get the kitchen. Laureen’ll probably dig through the garbage to find out what Johnny had for his last meal.”
Laureen started to sputter and Alan put his arm around her. “Easy, honey. Vanessa’s just jealous, that’s all.”
“Of what?”
“Of you. You’ve got a husband who’s crazy about you. That’s more than she’ll ever have. And she’s too young and too stupid to understand why.”
Laureen looked up at him suspiciously. “Do you really think she’s jealous of me?”
“Of course. All she has going for her is her looks. You’ve got that plus a lot more.”
Grace looked pleased as Laureen and Alan headed for the kitchen. “How sweet! They’re actually holding hands. Think Laureen’s finally forgiven him?”
“Maybe.” Rachael shrugged. “And maybe not, but it’s a good sign. Come on, Clay. I’m beginning to think Vanessa’s right. Something really could have happened to Johnny. Let’s start with the bathrooms.”
“The Harris case. Good thinking, honey.”
“Hold it a second.” Moira stopped them. “What’s the Harris case?”
“It got a lot of press last fall in the scandal sheets,” Clayton explained. “Harris was a doctor in Boston. His wife’s friends got worried when she didn’t show up for her bridge club a couple of weeks in a row and called the police. Dr. Harris told them that his wife had packed up all her clothes and left while he was at the hospital. He said he was so embarrassed that he hadn’t told anyone. Since it was common knowledge that Mrs. Harris had been involved with several other men, the police were ready to file a missing person report and close their investigation.”
Rachael picked up on the story. “Then some smart woman detective searched the house and found his wife’s contacts in a bathroom drawer.”
“That was the turning point.” Clayton took over the story. “The optometrist confirmed that Mrs. Harris was too vain to wear glasses and she was legally blind without her contact lenses. It was so unlikely she would leave them behind that the police reopened their investigation.”
“Did they eventually locate Mrs. Harris?” Paul asked.
“Oh, yes.” Rachael nodded. “Dr. Harris had used some kind of acid to dissolve her flesh. Her skeleton was hanging in his lab at the hospital.”
Jayne stuck close to Paul as they entered the huge music room. Even though she was sure they wouldn’t find Johnny’s skeleton, the Harris story had still unnerved her. Then Paul flicked on the lights and the sight of Johnny’s collection took her mind off her concern. He had twenty museum-quality pieces in his studio, all set off with spotlights.
“Look at this!” Walker walked over to the huge upright mahogany cabinet in the center of the room. “It’s awfully big. Did people actually have these in their homes?”
Jayne shook her head. “They were usually in restaurants or hotel lobbies. Do you want me to show you how it works?”
Walker nodded and Jayne flicked the switch. The two antique lamps on either side of the mahogany cabinet began to glow and the doors in the center slid open to expose a full-size piano keyboard. “This is an orchestrion. It mechanically replicates the sound of an entire orchestra. The music is recorded on a roll, just like a player piano, and those little levers behind the glass activate the whole thing. I think it plays a Strauss waltz, but I don’t remember which one.”
Ellen laughed in delight as the orchestrion began to play. “Tales from the Vienna Woods. I never could play that last part right.”
“You played the piano?” Jayne turned to her in surprise.
“I tried to play the piano,” Ellen corrected. “I was so awful that I finally convinced my mother that lessons were a waste of money.”
“Were you awful on purpose?”
“Of course not!” Ellen stopped and looked slightly guilty. “Well . . . maybe I didn’t exactly apply myself. It made me mad when I had to stay inside to practice. My mother was raised in the old school. She believed a girl should learn to embroider, play a musical instrument, and draw. I managed to learn how to draw, but that’s only one out of three.”
“That’s not a bad average.” Walker’d been around long enough to realize that Ellen had made a career out of selling herself short. “As Marc would say, they sure won’t kick you out of the majors for batting three thirty-three.”
“He’s right, Ellen, honey.” Jayne waited until the music had stopped, then flicked a switch and another set of lamps on the piece next to the orchestrion began to glow. It looked like an ordinary piano, but a glass case containing three violins was built in above the keyboard. “This one’s called a Hupfeld Phonolizst-Violina. It’s not quite as impressive as the orchestrion, but it’s really very complicated. See those mechanical arms holding the violin bows? Now watch. And listen.”
They were all silent as the mechanical arms began to draw the bows across the strings. Ellen sighed enviously. “Isn’t that wonderful? It never makes a mistake. What is it playing?”
“Sonata in C major, by Mozart,” Paul said. “It was the composer’s first mature violin-piano sonata.”
When the piece was over, Walker turned to Jayne and asked for one more. “These instruments are really something.”
Jayne led them over to the lovely grand piano in the corner. “This is my favorite. The owners of the piano would hire a popular virtuoso to come to their home to give a little concert. The piano recorded it on a punch roll and the owners kept it to play whenever they wanted. I guess you could say that it’s the great-grandpappy of the tape recorder.”
Walker examined the piano carefully. “I see how it works. Hey, Jayne! There’s a shipping label on the side telling the movers to deliver it to your studio.”
Jayne’s mouth dropped open. “My studio? But why?”
“There’s something written on the roll.” Ellen peered down at it. “It says, Listen to this, Jayne.”
Jayne switched on the piano, which began to play a one-fingered melody. She looked at Paul and frowned. “What is it?”
Paul listened for a moment and then he shook his head. “I have never heard it before. Perhaps it is an original written by Johnny.”
“It’s not very good,” Ellen pointed out, making a face. “If that’s the best Johnny could do, I’m glad he hired you to write his songs.”
Jayne switched off the piano and ran her fingers over its glossy surface, an amazed smile on her face. “I just can’t believe a gift like this. It’s incredible!”
Walker knelt to look under the piano. “It’s on a dolly. I think we can move it by ourselves if we get a little help. What do you say, Jayne? Shall we wheel it up to your studio right now?”
“Let’s wait until tomorrow. It’ll be easier in the daylight. This is so exciting!”
Paul glanced at this watch. “We had better begin the packing. The others will be finished before we have started.”
Jayne shrugged. Paul was right; she knew they had to get to work, but it was so damn typical of him to remind her. There were times when she liked to play hooky from her obligations. She knew she’d have to make up the time by working harder, but it was worth it. It was a basic difference in their personalities. Jayne sighed as she walked over to a standard player piano and looked through the box for a suitable roll. “Why don’t you two start boxing the stuff in Johnny’s practice room? And I’ll put on the ‘Maple Leaf Rag’ to work by.”
“Great.” Walker nodded and headed for the alcove in time to Joplin’s bouncy tune. “Come on, Ellen, let’s go.”
As soon as they were alone, Paul turned to Jayne. “I will now take the cow by her horn. You are angry because I reminded you of the work to be done?”
“Take the bull by the horns,” Jayne corrected him. “And yes, I’m madder than a wet hen. We’ve got all week to do this packing and I was having such a good time showing off Johnny’s collection. You’ve got a problem, Paul. You never did learn how to kick back and have fun!”
“Norwegians are by nature a humorless people.” Paul looked very serious. “We eat lutefisk and enjoy it.”
Jayne stared at him for a moment and then doubled over in laughter. “You made a joke, Paul! I never heard you make a joke before!”
“Does this mean that you have forgiven me for suggesting the work?”
“I guess so.” Jayne blew the dust off an old metronome and put it in the box. “Why aren’t you packing, Paul? I thought you were so hot to work.”
Paul crossed the room and knelt down beside her. “Perhaps you have convinced me to boot back and have fun.”
“Kick back.” Jayne corrected him automatically. “And you don’t know how to have fun.”
Paul didn’t bother to reply. He just lifted her to her feet and whirled her around the room until the “Maple Leaf Rag” had finished with a crashing finale.
“Was that not fun, Jayne?” Paul’s voice was loud in the sudden silence.
Jayne laughed as she reached for another carton and opened it. “I take it all back. By the way, I need a rhyme for a song I’m writing. Can you help me out when we get home?”
“Of course.” Paul glanced over at her, but she was busy filling the carton. When we get home. Was that Jayne’s way of asking him to come back into her life? Or was it just a turn of phrase?
Ellen sighed as she took a stack of sheet music from the shelf and handed it to Walker. It was “Lonesome Hours,” one of Johnny’s early hits. Seeing Johnny’s familiar smile on the cover made her feel like crying. She’d been so sure he loved her. And she’d been so wrong.
“Do you want me to do this, Ellen?” Walker’s voice was gentle. “You could start on the stuff in the closet.”
“No.” Ellen picked up another stack of music and flipped it over so she didn’t have to look at Johnny’s picture. The closet would be even worse. Johnny kept his working clothes there, all the sequined shirts and satin tuxedos he’d worn for his performances. There would be the lingering scent of his expensive cologne and she’d have to fold them and pack them and try not to imagine how he’d looked when he’d sung her favorite songs.
Walker looked up at Ellen as he assembled the next carton. Perhaps she was trying to exorcise ghosts by helping to pack Johnny’s things, but it wasn’t working. “Why don’t you take a break and see how Laureen’s doing in the kitchen? I can finish up in here.”
Ellen shook her head. She knew Walker was trying to spare her, but the kitchen would be even worse. They’d sipped coffee together at Johnny’s kitchen table out of matching mugs. And shared take-out Chinese they’d picked up in town and reheated in his microwave. The silver chopsticks he’d given her for her birthday were still in the drawer by the stove, and the special rice bowl with her name on the side was in the cupboard. No, she didn’t want to set foot in the kitchen.
