Lesser Crimes Page 17

  TWENTY-FIVE

  All his life, James had hated the telephone.

  It had been worth living in jungles, deserts and temples, just so he didn't have to hear it ring. Destiny, however, loved irony: he had been glued to his cell phone for days, waiting to find out how Lee was.

  A fire crackled in the downstairs sitting room, where he lay on the sofa reading a book. He couldn't understand a word of it. When something knocked on the glass, he jumped. Lee's face peered in, her fingers against the pane, and he leapt over the couch to open the door. Without saying anything, he lifted her from the ground; she put her face against his shoulder and her legs around him. It was still snowing, and he closed the door and carried her to the fireplace. After a while, he helped her remove her coat.

  "Be careful!" she said before he threw it on a chair. "Billy's in there."

  It wasn't like Lee to talk metaphysics, although people did unusual things when they were grieving. Still, she was looking at the coat in his hand.

  "What do you mean?"

  She pointed at the pocket. "Billy's there."

  James jumped to his feet again and she stood up with him. Taking the coat from his hand, she laid it on the sofa and turned with a plastic bag in her hand. "Billy's ashes."

  He took a step back. "Lee, have you gone bonkers?"

  "I don't know," she whispered.

  "Will you — will you set that down?"

  She left the bag on a small table behind her. "Is it really wrong of me, James? He asked me."

  "Asked you what?"

  "To take him somewhere."

  James scratched his head. "Well, isn't there an urn, normally?"

  "Yes, but that went into the wall."

  His mouth hung open for a moment. "Do you mean you replaced Billy?"

  "I stole him." Lips trembling, she stared down at her hands. "I promised!"

  "Hey, don't cry," he said, dropping by her side.

  "I promised him! But Maddy won't hear of it, she says I'm just inventing things. And I can't insist, because she's miserable. What do I do? If you think it's very wrong, I'll take him back."

  "What did he ask, exactly?"

  "He wanted to be taken to the beach, in Corolla. Do you remember, the wild horses I told you about? I think you looked them up, to find out where I was from."

  "Yes, I remember that."

  "Billy loved animals — so much! He said the horses were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. And James, he spent his whole life confined. It's wrong to put him inside the wall, although Maddy means well. But I don't know if I'm doing something horrible.” She stopped and took a shuddering breath. “Why does it always have to be like this? You talked of the commandments, but they don't begin to cover stuff that happens!"

  A laugh escaped him, and he wiped her tears away. "No, they don't."

  "I thought I was doing the right thing when I replaced him, and that Maddy would think he was there while he would be where he wanted to be. But now I'm thinking that it's not for Billy, it's for me that I'm doing this — because Billy’s gone, and it's Maddy that should matter. I should be able to bear knowing he isn't where he asked to be, and his sister should have him. I'm being selfish, aren't I?"

  James shook his head. "People who wonder if they're selfish usually aren’t.”

  "What do I do?"

  She hardly ever asked for his help, but she was asking for it now.

  "Let's take Billy where he wanted to be," he said.

  Her face lit up. "Really, James? You'll come with me?"

  "Of course, you lunatic."

  "You don't think it's weird?"

  "It's a bit macabre."

  A small sob escaped her. "Is it macabre?"

  "No, no, no." He pulled her so that she straddled his lap, facing him. "No, it's not. Isn't this place about five or six hours away?"

  "About that."

  "Let's go, then."

  "Now? At night?”

  "I'll drive, and we'll be there by morning."

  Her eyes filled with grateful tears. "All right."

  “Don’t cry, darling.”

  “You can call me darling again?”

  “I never stopped. Not in my head.”

  They were on their way twenty minutes later, a hastily packed bag on the back seat and Billy in a cloth bag on Lee’s lap. Without divulging details, James had called Paxton and asked him for help with a few arrangements, apologizing for the late hour.

  "I'll get my secretary on to it. Don't you worry, everything will be set up when you get there."

  It snowed less and less as they drove east, and often theirs was the only car on the road for long stretches. Lee had fallen asleep, her hand on his leg as if to make sure that he was there. He felt grateful that he could do something for her, after all that he had seen and heard.

  At daybreak, they stopped at a diner to have coffee and something to eat. A message from Paxton's secretary told James where to exchange the car for a rented 4x4, the only type of vehicle that could drive in Corolla.

  Another text gave him an address.

  The sun rose higher as they reached the Outer Banks and drove on sand. It was going to be a beautiful day, with a silver-blue sky. The sea was to their left, and to their right there were houses with steep gables. A woman stepped onto the beach from one of them, waving.

  "You got us a place?" Lee asked.

  "We have to do this right, don't we?"

  They parked on the side and the wind wasn't cold as they stepped out of the car.

  "You found it!" the house owner said pleasantly.

  "Straight line." James shook her hand. "I'm sorry about the last-minute notice."

  "Oh, that's all right." She motioned toward the wooden stairs that led to the deck of the house. They climbed with her as she glanced back. "No luggage?"

  James smiled. "I'll get it later."

  "You on holiday?" she asked with the usual friendliness of Carolinians. "Just come to take a peek at the horses?"

  "Yes."

  She walked into the house before them. "They're a sight to behold. Sometimes they come right up here. You're not meant to get close, though — fifty feet maximum. They're endangered.”

  After she left, James found Lee on the deck, covering her eyes as she looked up and down the beach. "What if they don't show up?"

  "They'll show up."

  Lee kept watch for a long time; they even walked along the dunes and a little inland, but there were no mustangs. Finally, exhausted by the previous days, she fell asleep on the living room sofa. The bag with Billy was on a table by the door, and James sat in the sun, taking over her vigil.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them the horses were on the shore, running.

  "Lee!"

  She sat up with a gasp as he grabbed Billy and her hand to run down the steps. They shouldn't venture too near the sea, or the horses might change direction.

  It didn't happen. They were having a good gallop, their manes flying: twelve horses, most dark brown or chestnut, with a white one among them. It wasn't long before they ran past, lifting the water with thick hooves.

  "They're beautiful," James cried.

  For a few minutes they ran with the mustangs, but they were soon left behind and stopped by the water.

  "Ready?" he asked Lee.

  Her eyes were dry, but there was sorrow in them. "It's illegal to throw him in the water."

  "That's in case there are bathers, I think. There isn't anyone here, and it's too cold for them to come any time soon." He smiled at her. "I've done some illegal things in my time."

  When the sea covered their knees, Lee made a hole in the bag, slowly letting the wind take Billy away from them.

  "Bye, Billy," was all she said.

  James carried her on his back up the steps of the house and into the bedroom, helping her take off her wet jeans, which he hung to dry outside with his. She was only wearing a T-shirt when he returned, and she straddled him again, putting her chee
k against his.

  “Your skin comforts me," she said, removing her top.

  He held her close. The sun was inside the room with them, and she was getting warmer. It wasn't lust that made them kiss, or that made him caress her back — or lust that made her press her breasts against his chest. Lee pulled him down on the bed, and their lips couldn't stop kissing, or their hands holding on to each other.

  TWENTY-SIX

  "It's so sweet of you to come, Lynette."

  Mrs. Brenda Hoffman, Scott's mother, sat looking older than her fifty-two years, her hair shot with silver strands, her face crumpled with wrinkles. Her sorrow was gentle but deep, yet it had been a shock for Lee to see her so changed.

  Mr. Hoffman was in town more often than his wife, and Lee had had a glimpse of him. In the last few years he had also aged, just not as fast.

  "Billy asked me to, or maybe I wouldn't have dared," Lee said. "I didn't know if you'd want me here."

  "Of course we would," Mrs. Hoffman said, patting her arm. "We always thought there must be some other explanation for what happened to Joe."

  Lee suspected that Chuck Hoffman wasn't a great believer in her innocence. He was a cautious business type who must think the correct solution to Joe’s murder was that Lee had killed him. In any case, he hadn't acknowledged her presence when they crossed each other in the street, and she had preferred to see Mrs. Hoffman at an hour when he would be away at work.

  "It's so sweet of Billy to have thought of Scott, even when he was leaving us," Mrs. Hoffman said.

  She began to weep softly, her tears falling on hands that lay inert on her lap, as if they had become paralyzed, or turned to stone. When Lee thought of Cora, she could well believe there was no greater pain in the world than losing a child, and Scott would have still seemed like a child to his mother. She wiped the tears away from Mrs. Hoffman's hands, knowing that there would be more and not minding.

  "It's the thought of youth wasted, you know," Mrs. Hoffman said. "Billy gone and Scott—"

  Her eyes followed the photographs on the walls and mantelpiece. Many showed Scott as Lee had first known him: the freckled boy smiling in true joy, or the teenager with a confident smile, dressed in football gear.

  Something had gone wrong for that boy.

  "We never dreamed this could happen," she said, "We never saw the signs of drugs. Aren't we supposed to notice something? For a while I blamed Chuck, because he didn't like that Scott had chosen environmental science. Scott was meant to study administration and help the construction business grow, and Chuck felt he was throwing everything away, and just when the economy was picking up. He didn't disinherit Scott, but he wasn't going to help him get his degree. Scott got loans and a grant, and before he left university he started to make some money. He even bought his own house."

  "Here in Hawkshaw?"

  "Yes, a ten-minute drive from here. Scott had become successful so quickly — why would he be taking drugs? I blamed Chuck because I thought it was the pressure of having those college debts. We aren't rich, but we could have helped him."

  Lee stroked Mrs. Hoffman's hand. "It's a horrible thing, but sometimes people just take drugs for fun. Because it makes them feel good, or because their friends like it."

  "But Scott wasn't stupid! If he had smoked some marijuana I'd understand, but this was chemical stuff. He knew this could kill him."

  "Maybe it was just unlucky. Just the one time—"

  Mrs. Hoffman interrupted her, and her voice was almost harsh, "He was injecting it. I've read about meth, it's not what a casual user does. And then other things made sense, like why he wanted to move out, why he had insisted that we shouldn’t go by his house without calling." She gave a sudden sob. "He wasn't found for two days because we didn't dare go there, although he wasn't answering the phone. We had to call poor Caleb."

  "Caleb found him?"

  "Him and Noah. It must have been such a shock to Caleb, but he was an angel to us then, and he has been an angel since. I couldn't go there and look at Scott's things, so he cleared the house. He's kept some things we'll want, one day. When we can stand to look at them."

  Tell Caleb to burn the money …

  "And it's absurd," Mrs. Hoffman went on. "I mean, Scott wanted to work in environmental protection. It was a passion of his, taking care of nature and all that. He was so healthy, so into sports! I know that kids do this to have fun, sometimes, but it doesn't make sense! You just couldn't see a sign of drugs in him. I go over it and over it, and I just can't see it."

  Lee had begun to feel a little nauseous, and she wanted to leave, but Mrs. Hoffman held on to her hand.

  "It's heartbreaking, but nothing was your fault," Lee told the grieving mother through lips that had become stiff.

  "Kids get so angry at their parents, especially at their mothers, for interfering; but then we have to spend the rest of our lives thinking, 'If I had only noticed, if I had only stopped him.' Then I'd have my boy with me."

  When Lee left the house, she drove aimlessly for a while. Finally, she parked near the police station and called Noah.

  "Where's Caleb?" she asked.

  "He’s out on a quick errand. Did you try his phone?"

  "Does he have the day shift?"

  "Till six."

  "Can you come for a quick coffee? At Dolly's?"

  "Yeah, I guess. Now?"

  "Please?"

  Dolly's was a small diner off Main Street, and there was less likelihood of Caleb driving by it and finding her talking to Noah. He would want to know what that was about.

  "I've been to see the Hoffmans," Lee said when Noah arrived and sat across from her. "Well, Mrs. Hoffman."

  Frowning, Noah took a moment to process the thought. "How come you went there now?"

  "Billy asked me. He talked a lot about Scott."

  "It's real sad stuff, Lynn."

  "Did you, Caleb or anyone know about him using?"

  "Nope." Noah shook his head decisively several times. "No one. I mean, Caleb's face when we found him … He was white as a sheet for days, poor guy. Was his best friend, even if they had been seeing each other less ’cause of work. Scott joked one day that I was Caleb's new girlfriend — but he wasn't really jealous, just making fun."

  "What did Caleb say?"

  Noah gave a short laugh. "He said I was prettier than Scott's new girlfriend."

  "Who did he mean?"

  "Can't remember who his girlfriend was."

  Noah was probably the world's least distrustful cop. Caleb had followed Scott's joke by referring to another man: a man who had become Scott’s close friend, and someone apparently not very savory.

  "Can you remember who he was going around with? I mean what friends?"

  Squinting, Noah tried to remember. "We went through it at the time, to see where he could have bought the stuff, or who from. Could have been anyone. And we didn't know a single person who might have been shooting up with him. He was alone when we found him."

  "Where in his house?" Lee pursued.

  "In the living room, rubber round his arm, needle sorta hanging from the other hand, like he had just shot himself up. It was pretty horrible, Lynn. Only time I saw a dead person that wasn't old except for—"

  "Except for Joe."

  He shrugged. "Yeah."

  "And there were drugs in his house? More meth somewhere?"

  "Yeah, a crystal. Right in front of him."

  Lee shook her head. "Doesn't make any sense."

  "Well, sometimes you get into people's lives, even in a small place like this, and you find out stuff you never imagined." Noah looked at her again. "I don't mean—"

  "It's all right, Noah. You can talk about Joe."

  "Well, they said in court that we made a mess of things when we found him. Maybe we incriminated you without meaning to."

  "My prints were on the fire poker. You didn't screw up the scene that bad."

  His eyes widened. "Then you did kill him?"

  "I'm not allowed
to discuss it. But thanks for telling me about Scott."

  "Don't think about morbid stuff just because Billy died, Lynn. Try to go out more and all. You gonna stay with Maddy and Ross?"

  "I have to figure something else out."

  "All right. If you need anything, I'm here."

  He went back to the station as Lee asked for another coffee and took the phone from her bag. She googled and read: Environmental science degrees challenge students to combine skills and knowledge from a variety of different fields. This could mean exploring aspects of biology, chemistry, physics, Earth and marine sciences ...

  Chemistry.

  Mrs. Hoffman had seen no signs of drugs in Scott because he hadn't been taking them. He had been making them.

  Tell Caleb not to keep the money. Tell him to burn it.

  Caleb had found Scott's body — and Caleb had cleaned out his house.

  Lee wished she could help the adrenaline coursing through her as she sat knowing that there had been foul, foul play.

  Scott had been murdered.

  She paid for the coffees like an automaton, able to perform physical functions while her mind took her elsewhere. Somehow she found herself in the car, driving to Caleb's house.

  He was at work until six o’clock, and it was only three. She could get in and out much more quickly than that. There wouldn't be any danger to it.

  You thought that in Mexico.

  No, it wasn’t the same. Here she was on her own turf and breaking into Caleb's was easy enough. It was easier than asking him questions. No one in Hawkshaw would pay for an alarm or bother with one; doors and windows were easy to open, especially for Lee. She chose Caleb’s back entrance, since the fences were high and the neighboring houses one-storied.

  With no attic or basement, the place was small. Lee moved swiftly through it, knowing that Caleb wouldn't keep money in any obvious place — not when he had a girlfriend. He would know that women sometimes look through men's things to see if they're cheating, and that at other times they might decide to tidy up.