I put the brush and currycomb away and got the shovel. I walked into Ahab’s stall. ‘Does your mother know about this?’
‘I just told her. She’s pissed.’
‘You know how old this guy is?’
‘Please, Dave.’
‘Let me ask you something.’
‘The answer is yes.’
I found myself holding a shovel full of dirty sawdust and unable to move. ‘That wasn’t the question,’ I said finally, and dumped the load into the wheelbarrow.
Back inside the stall I said, ‘My question was if you actually saw him Tuesday night or just talked to him.’
‘He was out here at midnight. We’d been on the phone for a couple of hours. He wanted me to come outside and, you know, drive around. I went out through my bedroom window.’
‘What time did you get home?’
‘A little before three.’
‘You drove around with this guy for almost three hours?’
‘We didn’t drive the whole time.’
This came off too smart, too cute. ‘This isn’t a joke, Lucy!’
‘I talked to Buddy last night. He says the two of you aren’t getting along because of Denise.’
‘How did you meet Buddy?’
Lucy gave me a look of exasperation. I was missing the point.
‘Humour me,’ I said.
‘Kathy and I went to a college party. Her brother is in a fraternity. Buddy was there.’
‘Buddy Elder was at a fraternity party?’
‘Why not?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing this guy?’
‘He’s only like ten years older!’
‘That’s the least of his problems!’
‘He doesn’t think you hurt Johnna.’
‘He doesn’t?’
‘He told me last night you couldn’t do something like that.’
I smiled. ‘But you think I could?‘
Lucy considered this for moment. I wasn’t sure if she had made up her mind or not. ‘I thought… when I saw the news…’
‘That’s not my style, Lucy. You know that.’
‘They made it sound like-’
‘It’s what they’re paid to do.’
I took Ahab into his stall and gave him a scoop of oats. Jezebel protested and Lucy took her a treat.
‘Buddy thinks Johnna disappeared just to hurt you.’
‘I want you to stay away from Buddy. I know it’s not my business and I don’t have any right to tell you what to do-’
‘No problem. He ended it last night.’
‘He ended it?’ She nodded uncomfortably. ‘Did he say why?’
‘He asked me to marry him.’
I expect I swore, but I can’t remember. I only recall looking at her as I tried to fathom my emotions.
‘I told him I wasn’t ready. I don’t want to get married!’
‘You said no?’
‘He said you won’t let me see him again if we’re not married, so we might as well end things.’
Lucy was in her room when I went back to the house. Molly was upstairs sanding the new floor.
I waited patiently until she stopped.
‘You talk to Lucy?’ I asked.
‘She’s grounded for life.’
‘If Dalton gets hold of the phone records, Molly, he’s going to find out about this.’
‘If Buddy was with Lucy Tuesday he couldn’t have done anything to Johnna Masterson, David.’
‘He called me, Molly! He was laughing at me! He knew what was going on with Johnna!’
‘Lucy says Buddy thinks Johnna is doing this to hurt you.’
I shook my head. ‘Buddy has played us from the start. I don’t care anymore if you believe me about Denise Conway, but this thing with Lucy was a setup.
He spent the whole evening talking to her and driving around with her because he knew I would point my finger at him!’
‘We don’t know Johnna,’ Molly persisted. ‘She could have-’
‘She had her revenge, Molly. She reported me to Affirmative Action.’
‘How could Buddy kidnap her if he was out with Lucy?’
‘Roger Beery did it. Tell me you don’t think he’s capable of something like that.’
‘I thought you said it was Buddy. Now it’s Roger.
What’s Roger-?’
‘They’re in this together, Molly! I told you, it’s how they got away with killing Walt and Barbara!’
Molly looked at me as if stricken, and for the first time everything I had told her became possible. But then it faded and she shook her head. It didn’t make sense. Walt and Barbara… for the money… maybe, but what did Johnna have to do with that? I told her I didn’t know.
I called Gail that afternoon and arranged a meeting for seven-thirty Monday morning. Big problem, I said.
Sunday evening passed in funereal silence. Molly had exercised a mother’s prerogative. She had confiscated Lucy’s television set, her keys, and both phones.
Lucy thought she was being unfair. Molly told her she didn’t know what unfair was.
Having walked the streets of Chicago without a place to lay her head at the age of fifteen, pregnant and alone, Molly knew about unfair. It was house policy never to ask about those days. When she was younger Lucy had made inquiries, of course. How had her mother survived? Molly had answered glibly. She got lucky and picked up a job as a waitress. The people at the restaurant gave her a little apartment to live in until she got on her feet. Later she got into a trade school and trained to be a carpenter. I was fairly sure that Lucy understood there was a bit more to coming off the streets than her mother admitted, but she never asked once she was of an age to understand such things. Molly said Lucy didn’t know what unfair was, and Lucy retreated to silence. So did I, for that matter.
Around ten that evening, Molly came to me in my monk’s cell on the third floor. ‘You want to toss those books off the bed, Professor?’ she asked.
I was reading Marcus Aurelius and holding the lesser Stoics in reserve. ‘What did you have in mind?’ I answered stoically.
‘Clear your bed and I’ll show you.’
We made love with the reverence and uncertainty of first times. Curiously, the weeks of celibacy had blunted the sense of urgency in both of us. We did not move quickly or work ourselves into a frenzy. We took our time, savouring the touch of flesh. We made it last, and even as it concluded we were quiet. The intimacy was more important than the rest.
And it seemed to me as we lay together afterwards that Molly had come to me because we were about to lose each other, that this was not a reunion but her goodbye before I went to jail.
We dropped Lucy off at school shortly after seven-fifteen. She was humiliated by the door-to-door service, but Molly was adamant. Lucy had precious few rules to live by, but she had decided to break them.
That was fine, she could do whatever she wanted, but if she wanted to live at home, she had better learn to deal with the consequences.
Alone with Molly finally I tried to talk to her about Lucy. ‘Try to understand,’ I said, ‘what she’s going through!’ It was no use. Molly was doing what she thought was best. We got to Gail’s office at exactly seven-thirty. Gail looked tired at the start of our meeting. As I related Lucy’s confession her demeanour grew increasingly grim.
‘You had no idea she was seeing this guy?’ she asked Molly when I had finished the story.
Molly shook her head.
Gail broke her office’s non-smoking rule and lit a cigarette. ‘He asked her to marry him, and she turned him down?’
‘I think things were happening a little too fast for her,’ I answered.
Gail looked at Molly. ‘If you want me to go to the prosecutor, we can bring criminal charges against this bastard. You know that?’
Molly shook her head. Lucy was almost eighteen.
She knew what she was doing.
‘Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.’
‘I’m not going to put Lucy through something like that,’ Molly answered.
Gail looked at me. ‘I suppose you’re ready to kill him?’
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but as an officer of the court aren’t you obliged to tell the police if you know a client is about to commit a crime?’
‘Tell me you’re joking.’
I smiled good-naturedly, telling her nothing.