“His toilet articles are gone, too,” Rachael added. “Toothpaste, toothbrush, comb, razor, antiperspirant.”
Marc looked pleased. “There you go! A man doesn’t pack a suitcase unless he’s planning on taking a trip.”
“A point well taken.” Clayton nodded. “On the other hand, if the two men Vanessa so graphically described engaged in any type of foul play, they may have confiscated the items in question.”
“Huh?” Vanessa frowned.
Rachael assumed her role as interpreter again. “Clay’s saying that if the thugs got to Johnny, they’d take the suitcases to make us think Johnny had left.”
“That’s what I said in the first place!” Vanessa was so excited, she almost shouted. “I told you those two guys looked mean enough to murder him!”
Hal grinned. “Sure, Vanessa. But what did they do with the body?”
“They dug a hole and they buried it. That’s what you do with dead people.”
“They didn’t dig a hole up here. The ground’s been frozen for over two months.”
“Then they took him somewhere else to bury him. Or maybe . . .” Vanessa jumped to her feet. “I know! They chopped Johnny up in pieces and put him in the incinerator! I saw a movie where they did that. Do I win?”
“It’s not a game, child-bride. Is that possible, Alan? Could someone cremate a body in our incinerator?”
Alan shook his head. “No way. Our incinerator doesn’t reach temperatures that high. There’d still be big chunks of bone left behind.”
Vanessa made a face. “Oh, yuck! I know it was my idea, but I’m not going down there to look for Johnny’s bones.”
There was a long silence before Jayne spoke up. “Nobody has to look, Vanessa. There’s nothing in our incinerator except ashes.”
“But how do you know?”
Jayne’s face began to turn red. “Because I dropped something down there yesterday and I had to sift through the ashes to get it back.”
“Grandmother Lindstrom’s silver ice bucket?” Paul sighed as Jayne’s face turned even redder.
“Well . . . yes. But it only got one little dent that you can hardly notice. And I polished it afterward. I’m sorry, Paul. I promise I’ll never use it for a wastebasket again.”
Paul nodded even though he knew Jayne would forget. She seemed to lack respect for the silver his family had given them as a wedding present. She’d been thrilled to receive it and she kept it beautifully polished, but a few months after their marriage he’d found the coffee server doubling as a vase for flowers and the cream pitcher sitting on top of her piano holding pencils and pens. The only piece that had retained its original purpose was the candelabra and Paul knew that was only because Jayne had yet to find something that would fit into the holes. When he had objected, Jayne had informed him that silver wasn’t any fun if you kept it wrapped up in bags.
“Okay, let’s call it a night.” Clayton yawned and headed for the door. “We can finish up the packing tomorrow.”
Hal took Vanessa’s arm to pull her up, but she refused to budge. “Where’s everyone going? I thought we were going to decide what happened to Johnny.”
“We’ve got all week.” Hal got a better grip on her arm and hauled her to her feet. “I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”
“Oh, sure. You want to go to bed, but you sure don’t want to . . .” Hal squeezed her arm and Vanessa let out a little yelp as he pushed her through the doorway.
“We’re leaving, too.” Moira stood up. “Poor Grace is beginning to droop.”
“True enough,” Grace sighed, “but I wish you wouldn’t point it out in public. You’re no spring chicken either, you know.”
Moira let out a whoop of laughter. “I guess I deserved that one. Come on, Gracie.”
“Me, too.” Marc headed for the door. “I have to check my answer phone. I’m expecting an important call.”
“I’ll bet you ten bucks you didn’t get it.” Rachael looked smug.
“You’re on. This guy promised he’d call right after dinner and he must have called the land line, because I didn’t get any calls on my cell . . . oh, hell!” Marc started to laugh. “I forgot. The phone lines are down and none of our cell phones work.”
Clayton waited until they were all out the door. “Hold the elevator while I lock up.”
“Why bother?” Alan asked him.
“Because someone could walk right into the building and steal Johnny’s possessions. Our security system’s down.”
“But we’ve got a natural backup system.”
“We have? Jack never mentioned it.”
“That’s because Jack didn’t know. It’s called the avalanche system and nobody’s getting in or out until they move that wall of snow.”
I’ll swap my plans to that singular dream
A lady alone with her get-rich scheme
’Cause all I need is a blankety-blank
And a ride on the carousel of love.
Jayne swiveled on the piano bench to look at Paul. “So what do you think? Do I need a teensy shove? A black satin glove? Or the stars above?”
“I do not care for any of the three.” Paul frowned slightly. “They do not meet your usual standard, Jayne.”
“I know that. Come on, Paul. I’ve got to come up with a finale, but I can’t think of anything else that rhymes with love.”
“Perhaps you should attempt to rhyme with A and B and permit your strongest line to stand alone.”
“Can I do that?” Jayne looked dubious.
“Certainly.” Paul nodded. “Many excellent poets have written in this manner.”
“Okay, if you say so. But I’m still stuck for a rhyme.”
Paul hummed the melody twice. Then he smiled. “If you’ll give me one chance to grab the brass ring when I ride on the carousel of love.”
Jayne scribbled on her pad of paper and sang the stanza again.
I’ll swap my plans to that singular dream
A lady alone with her get-rich scheme
If you’ll give me one chance to grab the brass ring
When I ride on the carousel of love.
“I like it, Paul. I like it a lot. But ring doesn’t exactly rhyme with dream and scheme.”
“It will when Miss Rawlins sings it.”
Jayne turned to him in surprise. “You’ve been listening to Barbie’s records?”
“This is true. I have attempted to identify her most unusual accent.”
Jayne began to smile. “Sure you have. And the Pope just turned Lutheran. You were listening to country-western because you missed it.”
“No, Jayne. I did not miss the music. I missed you.”
Jayne felt suddenly shy. The moment she’d been avoiding was close and she wasn’t sure how to react. She’d missed Paul, too, but should she come right out and say it? Instead, she changed the subject. “You must have missed dinner. Do you want something to eat?”
Paul nodded. “Do you have the Cheese Whiz, Jayne?”
“Cheese Whiz?” Jayne’s voice was incredulous. “You always said that you hated processed cheese. Wild horses couldn’t drag you to try it.”
“I have changed my mind, Jayne. I recently purchased ajar and I have developed the taste.”
Jayne was thoughtful as she went into the kitchen and fixed a plate of crackers. She set the jar of Cheese Whiz in the center and prepared to carry it into the studio. Paul had definitely missed her if he’d listened to Barbie Rawlins songs and tried Cheese Whiz, but that didn’t mean that he could just waltz up here and pick up the threads of their marriage. They’d both learned how to compromise in the months they had been apart, but basic issues persisted.