“The chains,” he said. “They’re not attached to anything.”
“That’s it exactly,” Megan said, nodding in approval. “You’d be amazed how many politically correct types who babble about the meaning of my work miss that aspect of it completely. The truth is, the chains of our own making are heavier than any the world puts on us. Or at least it’s my truth.”
“It’s true, I think,” Ray said, “and not only for women.”
“No, not just women. We all shackle ourselves one way or another. You’re very perceptive. I take it you’re the Mr. Calderon Mitch phoned me about. Forgive me for rattling on. You two didn’t come to talk about art. How can I help you?”
“Mrs. McClain said you stopped by while my brother was visiting her. I was hoping you could tell me something that... Well, that might help.”
“I heard they found his car,” she said. “I’m very sorry, he seemed like a nice young man. But I don’t see how I can help you. He left a few minutes after I arrived.”
“Mrs. McClain said they’d been drinking,” I prompted.
“Yes, I think they’d both had a few, but... Look, I intended to be tactful, but I’ve got no talent for it. And considering what’s happened, maybe the truth flat out is better. And the truth is, your brother had a pretty fair buzz going, Mr. Calderon. He was flushed, and he was more than a little aggressive. In fact, I asked him to leave.”
“You asked him to leave? Why?” Ray asked.
“He was out of line,” Megan said bluntly. “He was going on about how he’d been cheated all his life, and part of this, which I took to mean Audrey’s home and whatever, should have been his. Audrey was upset and... Anyway, I asked him to leave and he did.”
“How drunk would you say he was? Too drunk to drive?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Megan said, frowning. “I mean, he wasn’t staggering or anything. But since I don’t drive myself, it’s hard for me to judge.”
“You don’t drive?”
“I’m a New Yorker. I attended college here, then came back to live a dozen years or so ago. The town’s small, so I either ride my bike or walk. I was jogging that day. In any case, your brother left, and that’s really all I can tell you. I’m sorry. This must be awful for you. I wish I could help.”
“Perhaps you can. Did you know Mrs. McClain’s husband Walter?”
“Walter?” Megan said, surprised. “Not really. I met him once or twice when I was in school.”
“You were in school together?”
“No, he was a few years older, but Audrey was quite active in the arts when I was an undergrad, so I knew her. They came to fundraisers and things together. God, they were a gorgeous couple in those days. Life can be... Well, you know.”
“Actually I don’t. What happened to them?”
“Walt died in Viet Nam and Audrey had a fall. Lost her baby and the use of her legs. Lost everything, really.”
“Take a look at this,” he said, handing her the photograph. “Would you say this is a good likeness of Mr. McClain?”
She grimaced. “Doesn’t do him justice. He was quite a hunk back then.”
“And now?” Calderon said. “What would he look like now?”
“Now?” she echoed, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“The FBI has computers that can age a person’s photograph. You’re an artist, a very good one. Do you think you could sketch a likeness of Walter the way he might look today?”
“You want a sketch of Walter?” she said. “What on earth for? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I do either. But my brother came to this town looking for a man and a few hours later he disappeared. Maybe it was an accident. But if it wasn’t, I can only think of one person who’d have a reason to harm him.”
“You mean Walter? But he’s dead.”
Calderon shrugged. “So people keep telling me. But suppose he isn’t?”
“Look, I’m very sorry for your trouble,” Megan said curtly, “but I couldn’t do what you ask even if I thought you might be right. Audrey McClain is an old friend who’s had more than her share of pain in her life. I wouldn’t risk hurting her for the world. I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” Calderon said. “I understand. Thank you for seeing me. And I really do like your work very much. If you think of anything that might help, I’m at the Harbor Inn.” He took the photo from her and walked across the deck and down the stairway.
“What an intriguing young man,” Megan said thoughtfully. “Have you known him long?”
“No ma’am,” I said. “I scarcely know him at all.”
“Do you have any idea how crazy that sounded?” I asked. We were in my Jeep, headed back to the Nest.
“Maybe it did,” he said quietly. “But it kept eating at me all day in the chopper, looking down at all that empty water. I kept asking myself how my brother could vanish so quickly. And the only answer I could come up with is Walter McClain.”
“But Mrs. McClain said he never came back here. They even had him declared dead.”
“Well, for openers, he wouldn’t have come back here right away, not with the army looking for him. But let’s say he showed up a few years later. Do you really think his father would turn him in to the army to do a long stretch in Leavenworth for attempted murder? Or would he help him start over? Buy him a new identity, maybe even cosmetic surgery? The family can obviously afford it.”
“But since he’s still wanted by the military, why would he risk staying here? He could be anywhere.”
“No, I think he’d be nearby. His people are here, his money’s here. But most of all, I think he’s here because my brother fell off the world the day he showed up looking for him.”
“I see,” I said slowly. “What are you going to do?”
“In the morning I’m going out with the Coast Guard again for another air search over the lake. If we come up empty, they’ll have done all they can and they’ll pack it in.”
“But you won’t?”
“No ma’am, I’ll just be getting started.”
“And will you be looking for your brother? Or Walter?”
“My brother’s the reason I came. But I may ask around about the possibly-not-so-late Mr. McClain while I’m at it.”
“You’ll be dredging up a lot of unhappiness the McClain family would rather forget, and probably for nothing.”
“Sorry about that. Sometimes the truth hurts.”
“You’re the one it could hurt, Ray. This is a small town. The McClains have a lot of friends and a fair amount of clout.”
“How much clout? Do they own Sheriff Bauer, for instance?”
“No, nobody owns Charlie. But even if you’re right and Walter is here, which I don’t believe for a second, won’t asking a lot of questions scare him off?”
“He didn’t run when my brother asked about him. He took him out. But Jimmy was really just a kid. I haven’t been a kid for a long, long time.”
“I see,” I said slowly, and I really did. “You think if he’s here he may try to kill you, don’t you? And you want him to.”
He looked over at me a moment, with eyes as empty as an Aztec mask. He didn’t answer me. He didn’t have to.
I did my best to put Ray Calderon and his problems out of my mind the next day. I left the cook and a waitress on their own in the Nest, locked myself in the dive shop, and began the post-summer inventory. Masks, snorkels, fins, lures, every display had to be checked against the stock lists. The diving season was over, but the hunting season was already on us, and soon I’d need to spend most of my time in the bar/restaurant half of the Nest.
I suppose taking inventory should be considered scut work, but the truth is I love doing it, love being alone in my own shop with the sweet-oily scent of new gear, the gumdrop colors of hyperthane fins and snorkels. I grew up in this shop, and some of the happiest times of my childhood were here. So I time-traveled as I worked, spending a few hours with the girl I’d been, and sometimes glimpsing the person I’ve become through her eyes. We get along quite well, that girl and I.