“He’s absolutely gorgeous!” Lola’s voice was in full foghorn mode.
Lane hung up his coat. This is the last thing I need right now.
“He’s three weeks old now.” John’s voice carried up the stairs.
Lane went to the top of the stairs. I may need a drink or four before this night is over.
“Since we haven’t had an invitation, we decided to drop over,” Lola said.
“Are you the one who wanted to change the colour of my sister’s skin?” Alex, who sat next to her sister on the couch, stood up, taking Indy from Lola.
Maybe this won’t be so bad. Thank you, Alex. Lane stepped down the stairs and onto the family room floor. Saturday night I wore socks when I killed a man.
John was across the room in an armchair. He stood up, glaring at Alex.
Lola waved at him. “Oh, sit down. I had that coming.” She looked at Dan, then at Lane. “I am asking to see Indy.”
Arthur gave Lane a worried frown.
There is no self-help guru who tells people exactly what to say to a man who just shot and killed someone.
Christine touched her son’s cheek, looking at Lane. “What do you say, Uncle?”
Lane sat on the arm of Arthur’s chair. “Not my call.”
“She respects your opinion,” Dan said.
Lane felt a hand on his back. You’ve always got my back, Arthur. “A child needs family.” He looked at a smiling Lola. “Christine and Dan always have the final say. They must be respected as the parents of the child.”
Lola frowned.
The room held its breath.
Alex leaned forward to say something. Christine put her hand on her sister’s arm. Alex clamped her mouth closed.
Lane watched the worried look on John’s face.
Lola turned to Lane, who met her gaze.
Indiana farted, making a putt-putt sound. The volume wasn’t remarkable. The start-to-finish time was. Matt was the first to laugh. “You’re my hero, Indy!”
Lola stood, waiting for the laughter to subside. “We came here because I have an apology to make and this.” She reached into her purse, pulling out an envelope. “The two of you deserve a nice wedding if it’s what you choose.” She held up the envelope. “This is yours. No strings attached. It’s airfare, accommodation for ten, and a wedding ceremony in Cuba.”
Lane watched Lola. She’s not crying, not even close to it. He wiped at his eyes even as he felt rage boiling.
Dan said, “We’re not for sale.”
Lola turned to him. “I said no strings attached.” She handed the envelope to Christine, then looked at John. “We’d better go.”
John stood.
Arthur said, “You’re staying for supper.”
Lane glared at him. Arthur glared right back. Lane sensed the room turning to look at him. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He wiped at them with the back of his hand. Someone stood to put an arm around his shoulder. It was Matt.
“What’s the matter with him?” Lola asked.
Matt said, “It’s a delayed reaction. He shot a man on Saturday night. We were warned this might happen.”
Lane tried to speak, but his voice was choked off by emotion.
Arthur said, “Chief Simpson called and told us there will be help available, because it’s hard to predict how an officer will react under these circumstances.”
Christine continued. “So we contacted Dr. Alexandre, who predicted Uncle Lane would probably internalize the experience, but the shock would wear off and then this might happen.”
Dan said, “We were told to be ready just in case.”
“To be there for him,” Arthur said.
Lola said, “You were the one who killed Pierce? We knew someone was killing off the Nine Bottles. It was you who saved that family?”
“And now he’s paying the price for it,” Arthur said.
Matt got close to Lane’s ear. “Nigel phoned. He feels guilty, because he thinks he froze when he should have fired.”
In his mind’s eye, Lane replayed the scene. The angles of fire. The locations of Donna and her family. Through tears he caught Lola’s brief smile of triumph. The words on the note stuck to Nigel’s computer screen came back to him: VENEER & PLASTIC, PLASTIC & VENEER. He said, “I need to make a call.” Lane got up, climbing the stairs to the master bedroom.
Nigel and Anna sat across from each other at her usual spot in the library. It was five o’clock.
“So you were there?” Anna looked out into the library proper.
Nigel nodded. “I came through the door connecting the kitchen to the pantry and laundry room. The professor shot at my partner, who returned fire.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I froze.”
Anna looked at her laptop. “I want to show you something.” She lifted the screen, tapping a key.
Nigel leaned over. He could smell the gentle scent of strawberry soap and shampoo. Anna turned the screen so he could read the numbers. Nigel asked, “That’s how much the professor and his wife had stashed away?”
Anna nodded. “And this is real estate in Mexico.”
“So they made murder profitable.”
“For a while.”
Nigel sat back. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I like the Children’s Hospital. What do you think?”
Nigel nodded. His phone rang. He picked it out of his pocket, reading the number. “I have to take this.” He pressed a button.
“Nigel? We need to talk. Can you come over?” Lane asked.
“When?”
“Now.”
Nigel walked in the front door, saw the assortment of shoes and boots just inside, and was greeted by a smiling, round-faced, balding man with Mediterranean features saying, “Glad you could make it. Hope you like pizza.”
Lane appeared. He was wearing a black T-shirt and dress pants, and had a baby tucked in his arm. “Arthur, this is Nigel.”
Nigel hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should shake hands, and was instead engulfed in a hug from Arthur. “Good to meet you.”
The house smelled of tomato sauce, pepperoni, ham, and pineapple. A large dog arrived, promptly sticking his nose in Nigel’s crotch.
“Sorry.” Arthur grabbed the dog’s collar, pulling him back. “Sam, behave yourself.”
Lane said, “Come on in. Hope you like pizza.”
“I’m not really hungry.” Nigel took off his coat. Arthur hung it up.
“We need to talk.” Lane went to sit on the recliner in the front room. He looked down at the sleeping baby as he waited for Nigel to sit on the couch. The sound of conversation came up the stairs from the family room.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you have guests.” Nigel moved to get up.
Lane stopped him by opening his free hand. “Please. I need to know what you saw on Saturday night. I need to know if what I saw, what I did -”
Nigel took a long, shuddering breath.
Lane waited.
“I came up the stairs after you. Then I went around to the left to flank you. There was a passageway from the laundry room through the pantry and into the kitchen. I had my gun out. I saw Cori and Andrew Pierce. Donna and her husband sat in front of them. Cori told Andrew to shoot one of the boys. I could just see the kids’ feet because they sat on the couch along the wall next to you.”
Nigel took a breath. “I just stood there and froze as the professor turned. Then you said, ‘Police!’ I saw him fire. There were three more shots. He fell down. You stepped into my field of vision, told Cori to drop the knife. Then she took off out the door.”
Lane nodded. His eyes did a thousand-metre stare. Indiana kept his head nestled up against the detective’s chest. “Thank you.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything. Couldn’t do anything.” Nigel’s chin fell to his chest.