“She got you drunk?” I asked.
“Yeah,” John said. “She got us drunk.” He shifted in his chair to look at me. “She could drink a lumberjack under the table.”
“And not be hungover the next day,” Marcus added. “I don’t know how she did it.”
“So why exactly did she get you drunk?” I said.
“It was a bet.” John looked in his mug and Marcus immediately got to his feet and reached for the coffeepot. “Dani bet all three of us that she could match us beer for beer and still walk a straight line.”
“She did, too,” Travis said, joining the conversation for the first time. “She has some kind of freaky metabolism. Alcohol never affects her the same way it does most people. None of us could walk that line.” He looked up at Marcus, who was topping up my cup. “He kept insisting the line was moving, so he sat on it.”
“It felt like it was moving,” Marcus said, making a face.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Were you on some road?”
Travis shook his head. “We were at the drive-in. It was this retro place. It’s not open anymore.” He gestured at the others. “The three of us worked there one summer. Bowling shirts and slicked-back hair.”
“Are there pictures?” I asked, looking directly at Marcus.
“No,” he said.
“Yes,” John said.
Marcus shot John a look. “No,” he repeated.
“Do you still have your key chain?” John asked. He patted his pocket. “Or am I the only one?”
Travis pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and held up the fob. It was a stylized black crescent moon with a dotted white line down the center and a gold star at the top point of the crescent.
Marcus had the same thing on his spare set of keys. “I didn’t know that meant something,” I said.
“So you still have it?” John said.
Marcus nodded. “Uh-huh. On my extra keys in the bedroom. I think I have the shirt somewhere as well.” He gestured at the key chain Travis was still holding. “Stuckey’s Drive-In. Don’t drive by.”
“Drive-in,” all three of them said.
They all smiled at the memory.
“Blast from the Past,” John said. “Remember that?”
Marcus sat down at the table again. “The night before the drive-in closed for the season they did this thing they called Blast from the Past. You could get in for half price if you came in costume, and they showed American Graffiti and Grease.”
John nodded. “Dani came in a poodle skirt and a pair of those black cat’s-eye glasses with the rhinestone things on the ends.” He smiled. “This guy in a leather jacket and a beer belly hanging out kept hitting on her.”
“He asked her, ‘Where have you been all my life, Sweetlips?’ She patted his cheek and said, ‘Washing bodies in the cadaver lab.’”
John leaned back in his chair and laughed at the memory. “I’m surprised the guy didn’t get whiplash backing away from her.”
We finished our coffee and moved into the living room. The three of them spent the next hour and a half telling me stories about Dani and their college days and I found myself wishing I’d had the chance to get to know her better. When John and Travis left, Travis extended his hand and Marcus shook it. I hoped that the rapprochement between them would continue.
* * *
The investigation into Dani’s accident continued. Marcus took a day off and went to Chicago for the memorial service held by her friends. John and Travis came back to Mayville Heights with him. They had decided to continue their work against the development.
“It was important to Dani,” John said, standing in the middle of the library, still dressed in the suit he’d worn to the service. “There isn’t anything else we can do so we’ll do this.”
* * *
For the next week it seemed as though nothing was happening. John alternated spending time at the library with wandering around out at Wisteria Hill. Travis was back and forth between Red Wing and Mayville Heights.
Marcus was frustrated by the slow pace of Hope’s investigation. “I don’t understand why she’s shutting me out,” he said as we cleared the table after supper Wednesday night.
We’d had spaghetti and meatballs. Marcus had snuck a meatball to each cat and I’d pretended not to notice.
“The only thing she said is there’s some kind of backup at the medical examiner’s office.”
“Maybe that’s all it is,” I said. “Or maybe she’s not telling you anything because Dani was your friend and you really shouldn’t be involved in the investigation.”
“That doesn’t mean Hope wouldn’t tell me what’s going on.” He shook his head. “I know her. The last couple of days she’s been avoiding me.”
“Maybe she’s just trying to spare you from some of the details of how Dani died.”
“I don’t want her to keep that kind of thing from me,” he said. I recognized the stubborn set of his jaw.
“Hope cares about you,” I said.
He dropped a glass in the soapy water I’d filled the sink with.
“I know that,” he said. “I do, but I don’t like being shut out. Why can’t she just tell me what she knows so far?”
“Whatever it is, she has her reasons, I’m sure.”
He studied me for a few silent seconds. “This is what it’s like for other people, isn’t it?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
“About three years ago a young man was killed on the train tracks down by the old warehouses. There isn’t any traffic on them now, but there was back then. It turned out he’d been drinking and lost his balance and fell. His mother called me every day of the investigation. Every single day at quarter after nine. And every time I’d tell her that as soon as I had something to share I’d call her.” He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “And the next morning at nine fifteen my phone would ring. I didn’t get it, but I do now.”
I gave him a hug. “You’ll get your answers. And you and John and Travis will be able to say a proper good-bye to Dani.”
* * *
Thursday turned out to be busier than usual at the library, so I was already running a little late when I pulled into the driveway at home. I discovered Hercules waiting for me on the back steps. He had a black feather in his mouth, the fur on his head was standing on end and his right ear was turned half inside out.
“Did you and that grackle get into it again?” I asked as he followed me into the house.
He spit the feather on the mat where I kept my shoes and gave me what could only be described as a self-satisfied look.
“Let me check the top of your head,” I said. I didn’t think he was wounded. The cat and the bird had some kind of arch-nemesis thing going. It was more WWA wrestling fighting than the real thing.
Hercules shook his head. Translation: “I’m fine.” He made a move to go up another step and I leaned down, putting one hand on his back so I could use the other to part the fur on the top of his head and check for any bird-inflicted injuries and then fix his ear. He grumbled while I looked but didn’t try to squirm away. “You’re fine,” I said. He shot me a look that seemed to suggest he was insulted I had ever suspected otherwise.
Hercules was more than capable of taking down the big black grackle mid-flight and the bird could have easily injured the cat with its long beak. They both seemed to enjoy the battle. If someone won, the whole thing would be over and it didn’t seem as though either one of them wanted that.
In the kitchen I discovered that Owen had decapitated yet another catnip chicken. There were bits of catnip all over and a limp yellow chicken head in the middle of the floor.
Hercules immediately sneezed and jumped in the air at the sound. He always managed to scare himself when he sneezed, as if he couldn’t seem to grasp the small explosion was coming from him.