She sighed. “We were all here, Mrs. Willis, happily sleeping in your comfortable beds.” And Mary Lisa smiled, gave the old woman a little wave, and stepped into the elevator.
Lou Lou walked out of one of the bedrooms when Mary Lisa came into the suite, scratching her head and yawning.
“You look all perky this morning. Oh good, you got me a paper. You’re a princess, Mary Lisa.”
“Elizabeth still asleep?”
“I heard her in the shower already. I’m going to order room service. Dry toast for you, coffee?”
Mary Lisa nodded and wandered off into the bedroom to call Jack.
When she came out of the bedroom, she saw Lou Lou taking her first sip of coffee. Her friend sat back in her chair and said, “Okay, I know you called Jack. Why did he dash out of your folks’ house last night? Who called him?”
“A Sheriff Davis called him from Pomack, that’s a small town about thirty minutes south of Goddard Bay. He nabbed a homeless Vietnam vet who’s been on a walkabout. He thinks he might be the man Jack’s been looking for. Jack drove down there last night.” She chewed on her toast. “He’s still tied up.”
Elizabeth said, “I was thinking in the shower. Here we are, a trio of slugs up here, not being helpful at all. How about we pay Marci Maynard a visit? Her mother and yours are best friends, after all. No one could object, I mean, our offering condolences for her loss.”
Mary Lisa quirked an eyebrow at her. “What about John?”
Elizabeth laughed. “That obvious, huh? Okay, I called him this morning. He was on his way over to see Jack.” She threw out her arms. “I’m free, fortunately. Lou Lou, what do you think?”
“Let me finish the sports section and I’m with you.”
Mary Lisa said, “Well, why not? Jack won’t like it, but it’s better than sitting around waiting for him or watching the sailboats.” Or visiting my mother, she thought.
Elizabeth rose and stretched. She’d put her sleep shirt back on after her shower. It said in blazing pink across the chest, Politicians Spin in Their Graves. She looked at Mary Lisa thoughtfully. “I know you had high hopes for a lovely night at Jack’s house, babe, but things don’t always work out.”
Lou Lou said, eyeing Elizabeth over the top of the newspaper, “As if you weren’t crying in your pillow because John wasn’t around.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I don’t know about the crying part, but I’ll admit seeing him again didn’t set him back any.”
And why should it? Mary Lisa thought. “Okay, you guys, you’ve got ten minutes to get dressed, then we’re out of here.”
THE three women arrived at Marci Maynard’s house as the sun was burning away the lacy gray morning fog. Mary Lisa rang the doorbell.
They heard a dog barking, but no one appeared at the door.
After several more fruitless tries, Elizabeth said, “Any ideas, Mary Lisa?”
“Why, yes. We can go see Mick.”
He wasn’t in his shop, not a surprise since it was Saturday morning, but his assistant manager, Hop Clooney, was there, looking older than the antique Corvette hubcaps displayed on the walls. “Well, now, it seems Mick caught a tetch of something, sounded pretty putrid when he called me a couple hours ago. Meybe he’ll be back tomorrow. Better be-I need him to work on that big Caddy back there.” He shrugged. “I see you’re driving a rental from the airport. What’s the problem with it?”
“Not a thing, Hop, we’re trying to locate Mick. Thanks for the info.”
“So we can go to his house,” Mary Lisa said as they walked out of the shop. She went into Buckman’s Pharmacy, borrowed Mr. Clive’s phone book, and looked up Mick Maynard’s address.
Mick Maynard’s repair shop might have appealed to car aficionados, but his home looked like all it needed was a banged-up car set on bricks to finish off the ratty front yard. It sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, Martindale Lane, backed up against a hillock, hidden by pine and hemlock trees. The nearest neighbor was a good block away.
Elizabeth looked at the rusted machinery parts strewn around the car, unable to identify them, and said, “If I were a guy and I managed to snag a woman for some hankypanky, I’d for sure go to her house, not here. I wouldn’t think seeing this dump site would be a positive first step toward a meaningful relationship.”
Lou Lou and Mary Lisa laughed. Mary Lisa said, “It is pretty bad, isn’t it? One thing you gotta say about it, though-lots of privacy.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said slowly, “this guy could do about anything he wanted to out here.”
There was an old banged-up Chevy truck sitting next to a well-kept Camry in the driveway, a clean, bright blue. Marci’s car? Very likely. “I guess Marci doesn’t mind the hoedown front yard since she’s here. I wonder if she spent the night.”
Lou Lou said, “That’s why Mick called in with the putrid throat. Morning sex.”
“That seems pretty cold,” Elizabeth said, “what with her mother sedated in bed, suspected of murdering her father.”
They walked up the weed-infested path to the front of the 1940s bungalow. It was a single story with a small footprint, probably considered quaint and charming thirty years ago, but tired and run-down now, in need of fresh flowers and paint. The draperies were drawn over the wide front window and the two narrow windows beside it. Mary Lisa marched up to the front door and banged loudly.
She banged again, at least half a dozen times.
Finally they heard a shout. “Hey, what do you want? Go away!”
Lou Lou murmured, “He sounds a bit testy.”
Mary Lisa pounded some more. “Let him.”
The door flew back. Mick Maynard stood in the doorway, his jeans looking like he’d just pulled them on, the zipper halfway up, the button at the waist unfastened. He wasn’t wearing jockeys or anything else under the jeans, just his muscular body, a bit of black chest hair, and a thick morning beard. He scratched his belly, drawing their eyes down to his fingers, and slowly, let a grin-no, a smirk-replace his pissed-off look. “Well, ladies, to what do I owe this pleasure? Are you from the PTA, here for a contribution? Or maybe you’re a very late welcome wagon?”
“I’m Mary Lisa Beverly. Hop said you called in sounding all putrid. You’re some fast healer.”
The smirk was in full bloom. “To get better, all one needs is proper motivation.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true. We’re here to see Marci. Is she here?”
“Oh yeah, I know who you are-Little Miss Soap Opera Star. Why do you want to speak to her? What the hell do you have to do with anything? Where’s the police chief?” He stepped out on the front porch and glanced around, stepped back. “Just you three little piggies here to see the big bad wolf?” He laughed. “No, I guess that’s Jack, isn’t it?” He turned, shouted, “Marci, we’ve got some ladies from the Junior League here who want to interrogate you.” Then, suddenly, he twisted back to them, and without another word, he slammed the door in their faces. They heard it lock. Mary Lisa would swear she heard him laugh.
“Well,” Lou Lou said to the dump of a yard, “at least he has very nice abs, don’t you think?”
Mary Lisa kicked at a hubcap next to the overgrown path. “This doesn’t happen in the movies.”
Elizabeth said, “It’s too bad we’re civilians, so we can’t exactly cuff him or force our way in. What do we do now, Mary Lisa?”
“Well, there’s still Olivia Hildebrand. I really do want to talk to her about my mother.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Elizabeth said.
The Hildebrand house was a pale yellow gem set in an upper-middle-class neighborhood with wide yards, well maintained and lovingly tended. Deputy Susan Randall opened the door on the first knock. “Mary Lisa! What are you doing here?” She stared around Mary Lisa at Elizabeth and Lou Lou.