I kept a notepad and a pen on the bedside table for the times I woke in the middle of the night, thinking something like This is the day the countertops are going into the Bernsteins’ place, I gotta make sure the cabinet guys are ready. I’d make a note so I wouldn’t forget.
When I put pen to paper, I found I wasn’t so much making a list of things to do, but a list of questions that remained unanswered.
What had Sheila done in her final hours? How did she get so drunk? Was she, as I was strongly inclined to believe now, murdered? And if Sheila’s death was murder, did it follow that Ann’s was, too?
Could Ann have been murdered by her husband Darren? Or George Morton, whom Ann was blackmailing? Or even Belinda, who might have found out what was going on? And what about Sommer, who was already a murder suspect, according to Arthur Twain? The Slocums were tight with him.
It could have been any of them. Did it make sense that, whomever it turned out to be, that same person also killed Sheila?
My gut said yes. But my gut didn’t have a lot to go on.
And what about Belinda? By her own admission, she was the one who gave Sheila the money to deliver to Sommer. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Belinda knew more than she’d told me so far. I wanted to talk to her again, preferably without George hovering over us.
Finally, there was Theo. How did his murder figure into all of this? Was it related at all? Or was it as simple as it looked? He and Doug had gotten into a fight and Doug had shot him?
I just didn’t know, but I kept scribbling.
The very last question I underlined four times: Why did Theo write me a letter saying he was sorry about Sheila?
I looked at everything I’d written down and wondered if, and how, all these puzzles might be connected. If I could get the answer to just one of these questions, would I have the answer to them all?
I knew who I wanted to see first.
On the way out the door, I grabbed the paper bag with the gun in it. It was going to end up in Long Island Sound, or maybe Milford Harbor, or Gulf Pond. Some body of water deep enough to swallow up this gun forever.
I locked up the house and got into my truck, tucking the bag under my seat. I hit the headlights as I backed out of the drive. I didn’t have all that far to go. Just from one Milford neighborhood to another.
When I got to the house, I rolled the truck to a stop. I was parked across the street from it, looked at the house for a moment, thought about what I wanted to say. Some of these questions were going to be tough to ask. One of them I would leave right to the end.
Finally, I opened the truck door, slammed it shut behind me, and crossed the road, the streetlamps illuminating my way. There was no one out on the road, just one car parked at the curb a few houses down.
I went up to the door and leaned on the bell. Waited. I rang it again. I was about to ring it a third time when I could hear someone approaching.
The door opened.
“Hey,” I said. “We need to talk.”
“Sure,” Sally said, looking a little surprised to see me. “Come on in.”
Sally gave me a hug as I stepped into the front hall. She took me into the living room.
“How are you doing?”
“Not so great,” she said.
“I know. You’re probably still in shock.”
“I think, maybe, yeah. It doesn’t seem possible that he’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Theo’s brother from Providence called me. He’s coming down to make all the arrangements once they, you know, once the body’s been released by the police. The father’s coming over from Greece tomorrow or the next day. They’re going to ship the body home.”
“To Greece?”
“I think so.” She offered up a short, sad laugh. “We were going to go there one day.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I just feel so mixed up. I mean, I loved the guy, but I know he was no prize. I’m not even sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. But sometimes, a girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do if she doesn’t want to be alone forever.”
“Sally.”
“It’s okay, I’m not fishing for compliments or anything. Not that I’d object if you wanted to throw any my way.” Another laugh, accompanied by a tear. “And he’d almost finished my bathroom. Can you believe it? Floor heats up nice, but he still had to fix a few of the tiles, caulk the tub. I was thinking the two of us would have had a bubble bath in it by next weekend.”
I must have looked away.
“Am I embarrassing you?” Sally asked.
“No, not at all. I just… feel bad.”
“You and me, we’re quite a pair, yeah?” Sally said. “I lose my dad three weeks ago, you lose Sheila, now this.”
That actually brought a smile to my lips. “Yeah, we’re a couple of good luck charms, we are.”
Something that had never occurred to me until this moment prompted me to ask, “Sally, when your dad was still alive, and you were having to buy all those drugs for him, you never bought any from Sheila, did you? Or Belinda? Or get them from any place but a drugstore?”
