Barry returned just as they were walking away and said the coast guard had initiated a search by boat and aircraft for a possible person in the water and so far had found nothing. “There’s nothing more for you to do.”
Mason nodded in response to Barry’s comment, though Barry was trying to ignore his presence. Sheila had stopped crocheting as she listened to the story and the tension showed in her eyes.
“How strange. I just heard somebody talking about Perkins this morning, Sunshine,” Mason said. “I was getting a coffee to go at the French café and overheard two guys at one of the tables. One of them had funny hair and was telling the other one that Perkins had some magic system with investments. I remember thinking it sounded like the guy with funny hair worked for Perkins. You know, drumming up business.”
Barry grimaced both at the nickname Mason called me and the information he was offering.
I sat back and looked at my elephant project. I’d started working on the head, but the last round was inconsistent. “That’s it. Time to go. I can barely see straight and my stitches are horrible,” I said. I packed up my yarn work to take with. Barry said he’d follow me. Mason claimed to be at a crucial spot with his dog sweater and said he needed help and asked if he could follow me, too. Sheila had a forlorn look as the three of us got ready to leave.
“Why don’t you join us?” I said. Before I’d gotten us out, she was on her feet, stuffing her work in her bag.
A short time later the caravan of cars pulled in front of my house.
As soon as we all got inside, Barry made me sit down on the couch. Mason said he’d take care of dinner. Sheila volunteered to take care of the animals. The events of the past few days had caught up with me big time and I felt exhausted. The doorbell rang a short while later and I caught a glimpse of a delivery guy bringing in a box. The smell of hot food wafted across the living room and my stomach responded with a hungry gurgle.
Every time I started to get up to help, one of the three told me they had it covered. Mason had ordered from the local Thai restaurant. Sheila made up a plate of pad thai, curried rice, big noodles in gravy and yellow curry made with tofu and brought it to me. I wasn’t used to being waited on but had to admit it felt good. Mason, Barry and Sheila joined me in the living room with plates of food. The conversation went back to Bradley.
“I don’t know where Perkins got the idea killing himself was the honorable thing to do,” Barry said. “More like the coward’s way out.”
“I wonder if his wife realizes that whatever mess he made is probably going to fall in her lap,” Mason said.
Sheila was quiet and I knew all this was stirring up her own issues. She’d been brought up by a grandmother who had died recently, leaving Sheila feeling abandoned. She always said the Tarzana Hookers were her family now. “Those poor little girls, losing their stepfather,” she said finally.
Barry turned back toward me. “Fields is right. She is going to inherit the mess. I am going to say what I always say and you probably are going to ignore me, but, Molly, you don’t want to be associated with it. It’s great to be a nice neighbor, but you may find out you’ve just stepped into quicksand.” He put up his hands in feigned capitulation. I was stunned. Had Barry just agreed with Mason?
Someone brought me a dish of ice cream after that, but my eyes started swimming before I tasted the first spoonful.
When I awoke I was laying on the couch. My shoes were off and a pillow was under my head and a moss green crocheted throw covered me. I glanced at the coffee table. Someone had cleared all the dishes. I thought back to the last few minutes of conversation before I’d nodded off. Maybe they were right about me not getting involved. But it was too late. I’d already agreed to go with Emily in the morning when she went to Long Beach to pick up Bradley’s things.
CHAPTER 7
I REALLY DIDN’T HAVE THE TIME TO GO TO LONG Beach. I was behind in swatches and snowflakes, and there were the plans for our holiday event and the book launch. That didn’t even count any personal preparations like sending out cards or shopping for gifts. But I couldn’t let Emily go to Long Beach alone if for no other reason than she was too distracted to drive.
“Is there any family you can call to help you out? Or maybe some of your friends?” I said as we set out on our journey. She needed as much moral support as she could get.
“There’s just my mother,” she said. “But she’s in South Carolina and we don’t get along. She barely remembers my girls’ birthdays.” Emily said Bradley’s parents were dead and the only reason she knew he had a sister was because she’d sent the afghan as a wedding present. “That was one of the things that drew Brad and me together. He said we were both alone in the world. I’ll have to look through Bradley’s things and see if I can find a phone number for his sister. I think her name is Madison.”
“Then she didn’t come to your wedding?” I asked.
Emily sighed. “It was just Bradley, me and the girls. He said the wedding didn’t matter; it was about all of us being together. Isn’t that romantic?” she said. I nodded, thinking his being romantic hardly seemed an issue under the circumstance.
“What about friends? You seem to have lots of those,” I said.
Emily nodded, looking down. “All the people we know are part of Brad’s investment fund. It might be awkward.” She left it hanging and I understood. They were more likely to be concerned about how his death affected them than to be interested in being supportive to her. I reached over and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. She really was all alone in this.
I asked her about the couple in the suits.
“They’re from the Securities and Exchange Commission. They wanted to talk to Bradley. They came to the house when they couldn’t reach him at the office. They said something about needing to clear something up. I think they called it a friendly interview. Bradley never discussed his business with me,” she said. “I mean I helped with bank deposits and I helped him send out statements, but he never told me what was going on . . . what he was doing. Whenever I asked any questions—you know trying to be the interested wife—he got impatient and said he didn’t want to talk about it. If only he’d told me about whatever problem he got himself into, we could have worked it out.”
I collected a ticket and pulled into the terminal parking lot. We left the greenmobile and walked across the street. The Spartan building had been strung with some colored lights and the counter had several tiny decorated pine trees in pots.
Emily seemed pretty shaky, so I handled things and told the woman behind the counter why we were there. After a moment a man in business attire came out of a back room and a woman in a dark pants suit got out of a seat and joined us. She introduced herself as Detective Brower from the county sheriff’s department.
The man introduced himself and explained he was an executive with the ferry company as he led us into an office. Emily was looking more and more shaky as he invited us to sit. The detective told Emily the coast guard was continuing their search even as we talked. Then she asked Emily what Bradley had been wearing the last time she saw him. The wallet and cell phone were sitting on the desk. I saw Emily’s eye go to them and then look away as her breath caught. The two items might be her last connection to her husband.
The man said they had tapes of people getting on and disembarking the ferry that the items had been found on. The resolution wasn’t great and the picture was in black and white, but I heard Emily suck in her breath as she pointed to a figure in a light jacket walking onto the boat.