Sunflower Street (Rose Hill Mysteries Book 8) Read online

  “Ahh, I see,” Claire said. “Where is everyone living?”

  “With mom,” he said. “I’m in between jobs right now.”

  “I see,” Claire said. “Are the kids enrolled in school here?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Jessie wants to home school them, so she’s trying to work out something with the county. They’re being complete buttheads, as usual. We wouldn’t have this kind of trouble in California.”

  “So, why didn’t you go out there?” Claire asked.

  “It was kind of a surprise when they showed up,” Pip said. “I didn’t know they were coming.”

  “Kind of an inconvenience, then,” she said. “Girlfriend-wise, I mean.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” he said with a laugh. “I had a couple close calls that first week.”

  “Her parents are sending money, I guess.”

  “Nope,” he said. “They cut her off as soon as they found out where she went.”

  Claire knew what he was going to say before he said it. She was already shaking her head as he started to speak.

  ‘Four, three, two, one,’ Laurie said.

  “I could use a loan, Claire,” he said. “Just a couple hundred until I get started somewhere. I’ve got an interview for a fracking job in Wetzel County. They pay buttloads of money. I’ll be able to pay you back.”

  “Nope,” Claire said. “Not even tempted.”

  “They’re just little kids,” he said. “They need shoes and diapers and stuff. My mom’s being a real bitch about it, as usual. It’s not my fault they showed up here with no money.”

  Laurie played melodramatic piano music in her head.

  “I guess it’s also not your fault you have four children and an ex-wife you can’t support.”

  “I didn’t want any kids,” he said. “She just kept getting pregnant.”

  “Funny how that happens,” Claire said.

  “C’mon, Claire,” he said. “I know you’ve got it. You must’ve got two million for that condo we owned.”

  “We didn’t own anything,” Claire said. “It was in my name. I paid all the mortgage payments, the insurance, and the taxes.”

  “We were married in California,” he said. “It’s a community property state. Mom says I should’ve gotten half of everything.”

  “You signed the divorce agreement, I believe, on the same day that first one was born,” she said. “You didn’t want the condo or spousal support then.”

  ‘Oh, snap,’ Laurie said.

  Pip shrugged.

  “She had rich parents,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d need it.”

  “Funny how it’s turned out, then, isn’t it?”

  “C’mon, Claire,” he said.

  Sammy crawled out of the pool and came running toward Claire.

  “Me’s ready for me’s Moonshine Slershy,” he said.

  “Hey, little buddy,” Pip said. “Remember me?”

  “Me no like you,” Sammy said. “You’s mean to Claire.”

  “God, Claire,” Pip said. “I wish you’d quit talking crap about me.”

  “You hafta gimme a dollar for cussing,” Sammy said, and held out his hand.

  “Haven’t got it,” Pip said, and then grinned at Claire.

  “C’mon, Sammy,” Claire said.

  She gathered up their things and slung the lawn chair over her shoulder. She took Sammy by the hand and led him away from Pip, praying he wouldn’t follow.

  Pip was like a stray mongrel. Claire was done falling for those puppy-dog eyes and feeding him on the porch. Pip had a string of porches he liked to visit, and a long line of soft-hearted women who had tried to domesticate him.

  Claire was determined not to look at his ex-wife as she passed her, but let herself take a quick peripheral look. Jesse’s round breasts were falling out of her bikini top and the bottoms barely covered what her Aunt Bonnie would’ve called “her business.”

  ‘Very nice,’ Laurie said. ‘Sorry, Claire, but I can see the appeal.’

  How dare she look that good after four children?

  Claire comforted herself by imagining what the woman’s skin would look like in ten years.

  ‘Now, don’t be bitter,’ Laurie said. ‘You were glad enough to be rid of him at the time.’

  “Moonshine Slershy!” Sammy insisted.

  “Okay,” Claire said. “If you tell me the names of those little girls you were playing with.”

  “Dat baby is Pixie like candy,” he said. “Dat big one is Boo Bell.”

  “Blue Bell?”

  “Me sayed that,” he said.

  ‘Are you surprised?’ Laurie asked.

  “Figures,” Claire said. “Poor kids.”

  After Claire dropped Sammy off at Hannah’s, she stopped by Maggie’s bookstore, Little Bear Books, to pick up an iced cappuccino to go. As she stood in the long line that snaked up to the counter, she observed the college students who took up all the available seats in the café. There were lots of long beards and handle-bar mustaches on the young men, and the young women were wearing beach waves in their long, ombre-shaded hair. One current fashion was to have purple, pink, or green stripes in their hair, and one young woman had a virtual rainbow flowing down her back. Claire missed doing hair, and idly wondered if she should open a salon in one of the empty storefronts in town.

  ‘You cut my hair once,’ Laurie said. ‘The night you gave me whiskey and sent me off into the cold, cruel world alone.’

  Claire was immediately taken back to that night. Her impulsive offer of a drink had set off a bender that ended with him unconscious in Scott’s house while he was supposed to be subbing for him as police chief. It was one of the things she tortured herself about, among many others.

  ‘I know,” Claire said. ‘I might just as well have put a loaded gun to your head and pulled the trigger.’

  ‘You didn’t force me to drink,’ he said. ‘You just reminded me why I wanted to.’

  Claire fled the line for the restroom, which, fortunately, was empty. She locked the door and sank to the floor, crying. When she came out, Maggie was standing there, arms crossed, a fierce look on her face.

  “You come with me,” she said, as she crooked a finger.

  Maggie led her upstairs to her apartment, down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Sit,” Maggie commanded.

  Claire sat down and rested her head on her arms.

  She was so tired, just exhausted down into her bones.

  Maggie put the teakettle on the gas ring and placed two mugs on the table. When the kettle whistled, she poured hot water over teabags in the mugs and sat down.

  “Now, you’re going to tell me what’s going on or I’m going to tell your mother what just happened,” Maggie said.

  “I’m just tired.”

  “Nope, there’s more,” Maggie said. “You’ve been acting weird and I want to know why.”

  “I don’t even know how to begin,” Claire said.

  “Out with it,” Maggie said. “There’s nothing you can say that will shock me.”

  Claire took a deep breath. Maggie was very stubborn, and a little psychic, like her mother, Bonnie, and Claire knew she wouldn’t let her leave her apartment until she knew everything.

  “You knew Laurie, right?”

  “Of course, he was a friend of Scott’s.”

  “While you were on your honeymoon, and he was subbing for Scott, he and I got involved.”

  “I was only gone a month,” Maggie said. “He died before we got back.”

  “It wasn’t long,” Claire said. “But it was very fast, and intense.”

  “So, you slept with him, no big deal,” Maggie said. “I can see the attraction. He was a smart-ass, and you’ve always had a weakness for smart alecks.”

  “I didn’t sleep with him, although I wanted to. I know it doesn’t seem like long enough to be serious or meaningful, but for me, it was. For him, too, I think.”

  “I’m sorry, Claire, I didn’t know,�
�� Maggie said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I wanted to keep it a secret,” Claire said. “It seemed so crazy to get that attached to someone in such a short time, and also, because I didn’t want to hurt Ed.”

  “I’m not a member of Ed’s fan club, as I’m sure he’ll tell you,” Maggie said. “You’re the one who matters to me.”

  “I love Ed,” Claire said. “Laurie and I would never have worked out in the long run; too many demons, too many complications.”

  “You’re romanticizing him because he’s dead.”

  “No, not at all,” Claire said. “I saw him very clearly, but I still loved him, despite that; even though I also love Ed. It was different with Laurie. I can’t explain why.”

  “No need to,” Maggie said. “I loved Gabe and Scott, until Gabe almost got Scott killed.”

  “Do you still think about Gabe?”

  “Less and less,” Maggie said. “It almost seems like something that happened to someone else.”

  “I don’t want to let go,” Claire said, which brought on fresh tears.

  “You have to,” Maggie said. “You have to get hold of yourself and get on with your life. He’s dead, you’re alive, and nothing’s going to change that.”

  “I know you’re right.”

  “You’re depressed,” Maggie said. “That’s why you’re sleeping so much and don’t want to do anything fun.”

  “I do, too, do fun things with you guys.”

  “But you’re not really there when you do,” Maggie said. “We’ve both noticed.”

  “I only sleep late because I have trouble going to sleep at night,” Claire said. “All these recriminations and regrets just swirl around in my brain, and it hurts, Maggie. It’s a physical pain.”

  “I remember what that’s like,” Maggie said. “After Gabe disappeared, all I could do was go over and over that last day, and wonder what I did wrong, what happened.”

  “I don’t know what to do with my life. I’m just sort of flailing around, and I can’t concentrate on anything long enough to make a plan.”

  “You need to go see Doc Machalvie,” Maggie said. “You need to stop this before it spirals out of control.”

  “Did you take an antidepressant after Gabe left?”

  “Finally,” Maggie said. “After Hannah threatened to have me committed.”

  “I didn’t know,” Claire said.

  “Only Hannah and Scott know,” Maggie said. “I didn’t tell Scott until after we were married.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He just wanted to know if I could up the dose until I was nicer.”

  “What did it feel like?”

  “It put an emotional floor underneath me, just like Doc Machalvie said it would. Nothing about my personality changed, sorry to tell you, but my lows weren’t bottomless anymore, and I began to see light where it had only been dark. It wasn’t that I couldn’t feel pain or have sad thoughts, they just didn’t incapacitate me like they had.”

  “How long did you take it?”

  “I’ll never stop.”

  “Really?”

  “In the Fitzpatrick family, my dear cousin, we come from a long line of devout self-medicators. They were either fat, like Grandma Rose, or alcoholics, like my dear papa. I chose a prescribed medication to keep me from embracing the family’s traditional medications: sugar and alcohol.”

  “Doc offered it, after I first came home,” Claire said. “Up until Laurie died I think I was handling everything okay.”

  “Go see him,” Maggie said. “It’s the wisest thing I ever did.”

  “We’ll see,” Claire said.

  “I’m keeping an eye on you,” Maggie said. “Don’t make me tell Hannah, or you’ll get a pirate-themed intervention. She’ll dress up Eugene as Mr. Smee.”

  “Oh, my gosh, Eugene,” Claire said. “I was supposed to meet Walter fifteen minutes ago to pick him up.”

  Hannah walked down Possum Holler to visit Cheat McClanahan. Halfway down the narrow gravel road she crested a hill, and could see his house. There, on the front porch, was a young woman who looked as though she was leaving, and a brand new red Mustang with a temporary license tag parked out front. The woman looked up in her direction as Hannah came into view, and then she stopped, looked at the Mustang, turned around, and started beating on the front door. The language she used was colorful, all words Hannah wished she could still say, but because of her son, Sammy, could not do so without pecuniary repercussions.

  Hannah walked up to the end of the broken cement walkway that led to the porch and watched as the young woman took out her very visible frustrations on Cheat’s front door. The crux of the situation seemed to be that he owed her money, that she deemed his birth illegitimate, and that she intended to use her foot to inflict upon him bodily harm in an area of his personage where sunlight was unlikely to shine. All of this was delivered very dramatically, and with an excess of emotion, at the top of her voice.

  Hannah thought she seemed very young.

  When she paused, turned around, and acknowledged Hannah, she pretended to be surprised.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Cheat home?” Hannah asked her.

  “Yeah, he’s in there,” the young woman said. “He doesn’t go anywhere without that truck; God forbid he should walk somewhere, the lazy son of a bitch.”

  “He owes you money?”

  “I clean houses for him, and the damn check bounced. Bastard owes me twelve hundred dollars.”

  The young woman was very pretty, with long dark hair and a curvy figure. She wore a very short skirt, a very tight shirt, and very high heels. There was a lot of spangly silver jewelry and dramatic make-up. Hannah thought without all that she probably looked sixteen years old. With it, she could pass for eighteen, which was most likely the point.

  She was shaking, either with fear or rage, Hannah hadn’t decided. There was definitely something exciting going on.

  “Did you go around back and knock?” Hannah asked.

  The young woman looked longingly at her car.

  “I have to be at my other job soon,” she said. “I can’t wait around here all day.”

  “Let’s try the back door,” Hannah said. “Maybe he’s in the shower.”

  The young woman hesitated, her eyes darting here and there. Finally, she drew herself up and said, “Why not?”

  Hannah walked around the side of the house to the back, where it seemed Cheat liked to smoke, based on the number of cigarette butts discarded in a semicircle on the ground just beyond a sagging armchair on the back porch. Hannah peeked through the dirty glass of the door and saw Cheat, sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

  “Well, there’s your problem,” Hannah said to the young woman, who was standing just to the side of the porch. “He’s passed out on the floor; must have had a big night last night.”

  Hannah tried the knob and easily opened the door.

  “Cheat,” she called out, but Cheat did not move.

  It was deathly quiet inside the house, and there was a sour smell.

  Hannah froze in the midst of taking a step inside. She looked at the young woman, who looked back at her with naked dread, plus something hard and cold in her eyes.

  “Is he dead?” she asked Hannah.

  “You tell me,” Hannah said quietly.

  The young woman took off, and Hannah let her go. She took out her cell phone and punched in the speed dial number for the Rose Hill City Police Station.

  Skip answered.

  “I’ve got another dead McClanahan,” Hannah said. “It’s Cheat this time.”

  While she waited for the cavalry to arrive, Hannah went around to the front of the house and, using the tail of her T-shirt, turned the knob on the front door. Just as Hannah suspected it would, the door opened. She shut the door and sat down on the front porch steps.

  Hannah closed her eyes and mentally retraced her steps to the top of the hill, where she first saw the young woma
n on Cheat’s front porch. What had the woman been doing before she noticed Hannah watching and began her histrionics? Did Hannah actually see her close the door and prepare to leave? She definitely remembered thinking the girl was leaving, not arriving. But did she see her close the door?

  She couldn’t say for sure.

  Claire and attorney Walter Graham were in a private waiting room in the hospital, waiting to speak to Dr. Schweitzer. They were supposed to meet with him before Eugene was released into their care.

  “These accommodations you’ve got lined up at your cousin’s farm,” Walter said. “Will he be safe there?”

  “Hannah’s been a good friend to Eugene since we were kids. Her husband, Sam, used to do security work for the government. Now he works with injured vets who need prosthetics and physical therapy. They’re good people, they’re fond of him, they know the situation, and they won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “If his mother was murdered, he might be safer here.”

  “If the murderer is who I think it is, he’s less safe in here,” Claire said.

  “I know Jillian is a troubled woman, with poor impulse control …” he said, “but surely …”

  “Exactly the type of person who might act first and worry about the consequences later,” Claire said.

  Chip McClanahan knocked on the door frame as he entered the room. Claire hoped he hadn’t heard what they were saying about his wife.

  Time had been kind to Chip, and instead of the gangly, awkward boy she remembered, he was a handsome, tall man dressed in a professionally tailored suit.

  “Claire,” he said, as he hugged her in greeting.

  He smelled like spearmint gum and musky, sweet cologne that Claire found cloying.

  He shook Walter’s hand and they made small talk about the friends they had in common. Claire knew this was a way to establish social standing, and felt like an anthropologist observing their behavior.

  “I guess you’re in charge of Eugene, now,” Chip said to Claire. “I’m not sure why that happened; I assumed Jillian and I would be taking care of things, but I guess Aunt Gigi had her reasons …”