Music, Miles Davis, came from Evan’s room. Let them be: Deal with this tomorrow. I read till my eyes fell shut.
But I slept badly, vaguely aware of the wind buffeting the house and wailing in the eaves like a lost soul, and came full awake at the sound of somebody fumbling at the bedroom door. Incoherent muttering; Jake, and stupid drunk. I could smell him.
“Oh God,” he whined, “that Sochi is such a bitch. You have no idea. I am seriously ripped. I mean majorly.”
“Shh. You don’t have to wake up the world.”
“As if. Oh God. You’re not going to believe it. Oh, am I going to regret this tomorrow.” Feeling for the bed in the dark, he missed and went down on one knee. “A real bitch! Aagh—”
“Go and throw up,” I said.
“What?”
“Put your finger down your throat. Get rid of some of it or you’ll have a terrible hangover.”
“Good idea.” He stumbled into the bathroom and I covered my head with my pillow to drown out his retching. Now I’d be awake for hours. Some vacation.
I was wrong. The next time consciousness found me it was starting to get light, and the wind was down. Then I heard it again, the sound that had waked me. A single sound, repeated at regular intervals like some lonely bird crying. Or a demented human.
I got up and went to the door. Yes: someone wailing, a man, his voice getting ragged now with the repetition, broken by coughing.
“Wake up, Jake.” I shook his shoulder and pulled his covers back. “Something’s wrong.” I dragged on my robe. “I’m going to go see. Get up now! I need you.”
Gray light flooded the hall from the sunroom opposite. Farley, executive-looking in a monogrammed brown robe, was starting down the stairs. “It’s Tang,” he said.
A blast of cold air swept up the staircase: The double front doors stood wide open. Tang’s ragged wails came at longer intervals now. Jake, behind me, called, “Wait up!” and the outdoor cold burst over me.
Sochi’s body lay sprawled on the rain-drenched paving stones with one arm flung out, the flowers in her sodden dress darkly brilliant, the thick two-toned braid had fallen free. Raindrops beaded crystal on her skin. I couldn’t believe it, her face was so pale and smooth, drained of color, and I went close and touched her hand and her bare arm. It gave a little but it was cold, cold as the stone. Jake pulled me away.
“Oh, dear God, what has she done now?” Leonor said from the door. “This is terrible.”
Farley, muttering, hugged himself tight. “A terrible accident.”
“There was no need for this,” Leonor said.
Afterwards I remembered everybody crying. Jake and I hung on to each other, rocking. It was drizzling again, and we moved back under the overhang.
“She didn’t do it,” Tang said, his voice raspy. “She wouldn’t do it on purpose.”
“Evan,” Leonor said. “Someone’s got to tell him. Jake, you go. And be gentle.”
“She must’ve been leaning out in the dark to look, and lost her balance,” Farley said. “I asked her last evening if she could see flooding on Noni’s Parcel.”
“Slippery with the wet, maybe?” Leonor said.
Evan ran out barefoot in his pajamas and knelt beside Sochi. He tried to pick her up and they made him stop, they were actually wrestling with him, and it was all beyond awful. Leonor brought a coat for Evan, and Tang covered Sochi’s body with a yellow tarp. Jake and I, sharing the same idea, edged away, out of the ring of grief and fury. We were strangers, we didn’t belong here.
We left Farley and Leonor discussing calling the sheriff, if the phone was working — cell phones didn’t work up here. Not just Sochi was dead, I realized. The baby, too.
Shut in our room, our little sanctuary, we whispered together, trying to absorb what had happened. “It’s only a fifteen- or twenty-foot drop,” I said. “Not enough to kill you, normally. Sochi would know that.” Suddenly the burned bedspread seemed ominous. “Did you by any chance move the heater close to the bed?” I asked Jake.
“Of course not.” He scowled. “That would really be dangerous.” Obviously he thought I’d been careless. I was too numb to argue.
The only other people who’d been up here last night were Tang and Leonor: Farley was watching TV with Sochi.
While Jake was in the shower I heard voices outside. I moved close to the door.
“Remember, you promised me,” Leonor said, her voice low.
“I know what I promised,” Evan snarled. “God, you never let me forget it.” Their voices moved out of range.
I repeated what I’d heard to Jake. He didn’t understand it either. Evan had told Jake that Sochi had never wanted to get married, they’d agreed to that right from the start; also, that Evan did not want any kids.
“Maybe the baby wasn’t Evan’s,” I said.
“Oh, Jesus.” Jake’s look of horror sickened me. Was it not an accident? Had he and Evan done something...?
By the time we’d both dressed I was pretty well cried out. “How come Evan didn’t hear Tang when the rest of us did?” I asked.
“Earplugs. Also he takes sleeping pills.”
I couldn’t quit thinking about Sochi. Not a good way to get rid of somebody. Maybe it was a heat of passion thing. Or a struggle.
Jake was watching me. “Will you stop? We’ve got no way of knowing what happened. So could you for once in your life just not get involved?” I felt myself getting scared. Jake’s reaction was wrong. He was too composed, almost resigned.
As we came out of our room Evan’s door opened, as if he’d been waiting for us.
“Listen, you guys,” he said. “Can you stick with me here? Just for a day or two?” He stopped and blew his nose. “Sorry. Sorry about this. Just unbelievable. They’re sending a helicopter, my mother talked to somebody. You think I should go with her? Oh shit.” We came together in a three-way hug.
Of course we’d stay, as long as he needed us.
At the bottom of the stairs a flash of yellow brightened the shadowed dining room, Sochi’s poncho-covered body laid out on the dining table. How much did Jake know about what happened to her?
The smell of fresh coffee drew Jake into the kitchen. Through the window alongside the front door I saw Farley out on the terrace, scanning the vineyards with his binoculars. I shrugged into a slicker and went out.
“I can’t stay away,” I said, looking down at the spot where the body had been.
Farley nodded. “A terrible accident; terrible. The sheriff won’t be happy that she’s been moved, but Tang absolutely insisted. He would’ve done it alone.”
I couldn’t stop the pictures forming in my head. Was it quick? Did Sochi realize? No blood was visible. Maybe it had all washed away. Was her spirit still hanging around, unsatisfied? I waited, still, in case there was any kind of sign. But nothing came.
Farley showed me where part of Noni’s Parcel had washed away, leaving a raw brown gouge in the hillside. I wondered who would inherit the land if something happened to Evan. Wasn’t that why Sochi had died — because of the baby? Farley was certainly the next of kin.
When I glanced up at the balcony I saw a flash of red between the bottom rail and the concrete floor. I looked away quickly. I knew exactly what it was. Sochi had been wearing a big red clip in her hair; but I didn’t remember seeing it down here, where she’d fallen.
I was hot to go and get the clip, but Farley kept on talking. Inside the house Tang shouted once, and Farley shook his head, smiling. “Tang and Sochi both loved to gamble. Stereotype, I know, but as it happens, true for him. She always took him over to Reno for his birthday. For a smart guy he’s a terrible gambler — bets his hunches, astrological numbers, high and low temperatures, anything. She always wound up lending him money. He must be into her for thousands by now.”