Staying Home Is A Killer. Sara Rosett
dad,” Will said, “on a dig.” The background looked pale and dusty in blazing sunlight.
“He’s an archaeologist,” I said, remembering Penny had talked about him quite a bit.
“At least he was nice to her,” Will said, “even if he didn’t have much time for her. Not like her mom.”
I searched the shelves, but couldn’t find a picture of a middle-aged woman to match to Penny’s father.
“Man, is she a piece of work. Pushy. No wonder Penny caved on everything. I couldn’t even get a word in when her mom called about the funeral. ‘Of course, it will be here,’ he mimicked in a nasal voice, complete with a disdaining shake of the head. ‘This is where all her family and friends are.’”
“So the funeral will be in Michigan?”
“Yeah.” He drained the last of his beer, heaved himself out of the chair, and lumbered into the kitchen. The refrigerator door sighed open, then slammed shut. “All out.”
Thank goodness. “When is the funeral? You said something about leaving town.”
“Friday. I’m leaving tomorrow.” He dropped back into the recliner and absently studied the ceiling again while he cracked the knuckles on his right hand. “Never thought I’d be glad to be in the vault.”
“What?” Maybe I should leave. He wasn’t making sense.
“Yeah. You should have seen the police when I told them I was in the vault all morning on Monday.” He switched over to crack the knuckles on his left hand. “They had it all pegged on me. Otherwise, I couldn’t leave town. And right now there’s nothing I want more than to get out of this town.”
“Wait a minute. The police are investigating her death? It wasn’t suicide?”
“No.” He glanced at the beer cans. He probably had started drinking when the police brought him the news.
For once, I could understand him getting sloshed. “I’m sorry, Will,” I said again.
He shrugged and wiped at the corners of his eyes again. “Yeah. They think someone murdered her. They wouldn’t really say anything, but, man, after a few minutes, I knew where they were going. ‘Did you ever fight? Have any disagreements lately? Where were you on Monday morning?”
And Will was in the vault, a closed nuclear procedures training class. No one could reach you when you were in the vault. All cell phones went off and no one left. He wasn’t a suspect.
The phone rang and he closed his eyes. For a minute I thought he would cover his ears with both hands like Livvy having a tantrum, but the machine came on and a clipped, masculine voice with a British accent asked that Will return the call as soon as possible.
Will dropped his hands and said, “That’s Victor. About the exhibit. Can’t they give me a friggin’ day? Why can’t they give it a rest?”
“Will, I don’t mind returning his calls to see what he needs. I met him once when Penny and I were having lunch.”
Will nodded. “Now, her archivist stuff, that stuff.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t understand it. “Man, she was passionate about it.”
I realized he didn’t want to deal with today’s phone calls. He wanted to think about Penny. My respect for him, about at zero to begin with, went up a little. He seemed genuinely grieved.
His words reminded me of when I’d asked Penny why she became an archivist when the job market was so tight. She’d said, “Artifacts are so much easier to deal with than people. They never yell. Never criticize. And they never let you down.” With the husband and mother she had, it sounded like Penny had made a brilliant career choice.
Will absently pushed the floor with his toe, rocking the recliner. He stared at the ceiling.
“Umm, Will, I’ll take down the messages and figure out what everyone needs.”
He nodded, concentrating on the ceiling. “I think she picked up some stuff for the exhibit. Not sure where it is. Maybe the computer room? You can find out what everyone needs and give them their stuff. Let them in while I’m gone. You’ve got a key?”
“Yes. Penny gave me one when she locked herself out that time. I’ll take care of it.”
I went to the kitchen and made notes on the fourteen calls on the machine. Most were condolence calls, but a few, like Victor Roth, were beginning to sound impatient.
A page of grid paper held on the refrigerator with magnets caught my eye. I read one of the clues written in small cursive script on plain paper beside the grid paper. Wild Goose ____. Squared-off letters filled the blank squares beside the number 1 on the grid with chase, and then commented on the side Too easy. Give me a hard one next time. The square handwriting continued with a clue that read pelt. The cursive writing spelled out hide, using the h in the word chase. A note in the margin read Here’s a literary one. The next clue read Hills Like White _____. The blanks for this clue began with the letter e in chase, but they weren’t filled in. A note printed beside it said Another clue? This must be some sort of crossword game Penny and Will played, leaving each other clues and notes. I was surprised that Will had any interest in it. It didn’t seem his type of thing.
I checked my watch and went back to the living room. “I need to get back home. I’ll follow up on these for you,” I said.
He rocked and nodded some more. I made a mental note to send Mitch down here to make sure Will was packed and had a ride to the airport.
I perched on the edge of the sofa. In my mind, I’d been going over and over my last meeting with Penny.
“Will, I saw Penny on Monday morning. She seemed happy.”
“Yeah. We were gonna have a baby.” Another tear leaked out of his eye and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. “She thought that would make everything better.”
I didn’t disagree out loud with him, but when Penny confided that she wanted to have a baby, I’d tried to tactfully ask her if she thought that was the best thing to do, especially since Will wasn’t very supportive.
“Ellie,” she’d said, “I’ve always wanted a baby, someone I can love. And that little baby will love me back. If there’s any way I can have a baby, I’m going to do it. He’ll come around when the baby’s born. You’ll see.”
I focused on Will again. “She was ecstatic, but there was a moment when she seemed upset. It was when a crew came in from the flight line, Zeke, Rory, and Aaron.”
Will laughed, a full laugh. “Yeah. She was pissed about that, but I’m not telling. Sworn to secrecy.”
“But you told Penny?”
“I’m not telling,” he said in a singsong voice.
“Okay, well, she mentioned her art appreciation class, too. That Clarissa Bedford had joined.”
“Penny told me. Clarissa wants to be cultured. Clarissa Bedford couldn’t be cultured in a million years. What a joke.”
He leaned back and rocked faster. That was the end of our conversation, such as it was. No matter what I asked I couldn’t get anything else out of him.
Chapter Five
As I walked home I squinted into the bright sunlight to see who had parked in front of our house. Thistlewait climbed out of his car, a plain dark blue four-door sedan beside the ever-growing snowbank that the snowplow tossed up after each storm. Balancing a pizza box, he stepped over the three-foot snowbank. “I brought you dinner. Figured I owed you some food.”
“Great.” I pasted a smile on my face, but I felt my stomach sink. Thistlewait was not a casual friend who just dropped by. Either he had questions or he had bad news. Mitch pulled into the driveway and we met in the kitchen where we sorted out coats, drippy boots,