“Look in your rearview mirror,” Sheila said softly as I leaned on the accelerator.
“He’s in front of me, not behind me,” I said.
“Look in your rearview mirror,” she said again.
I thought, Shit, a cop’s tailing me. But when I looked in the mirror, what I saw was Kelly in her booster seat.
“If giving this guy the finger trumps your daughter’s safety, then by all means,” Sheila said.
My foot came off the gas.
Quite a wise approach from a woman who drove up the wrong ramp and killed herself and two others. The memories of that night did not square with those I had of Sheila as a calm, reasonable person. I thought I knew what her prevailing view of my current predicament would be.
Suppose I did get Ann Slocum on the phone and gave her a piece of my mind? I might get some satisfaction out of it. But what would the fallout be for Kelly? Would Emily’s mom turn her daughter against Kelly? Would it send Emily into the enemy camp at school, with the kids who called Kelly “Boozer the Loser”?
I emptied my glass and debated whether to go back upstairs for a refill. As I sat there, feeling the warmth spread through my body, the phone rang.
I grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Glen? It’s Belinda.”
“Oh, hey, Belinda.” I glanced at the clock. Nearly ten.
“I know it’s late,” she said.
“That’s okay.”
“I was thinking I should give you a call. I don’t think I’ve even seen you since the funeral. I was feeling bad I hadn’t been in touch, but I wanted to give you your space, you know?”
“Sure.”
“How’s Kelly doing? Is she back at school?”
“She could be better. But she’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.”
“I know, I know, she’s such a terrific girl. I just… I just keep thinking about Sheila. I mean, I know she was only my friend, that your loss is so much greater, but it hurts, it just hurts so much.”
She sounded as though she might start to cry. I didn’t need this right now.
“I wish I could have seen her one last time,” she continued. What did she mean by that? That she wished she could have spent time with Sheila one more time before she died? “I guess, what with the car catching on fire…”
Oh. Belinda was referring to the closed casket. “They got the fire out before it took over the inside of the car. She wasn’t… touched.” I pushed away memories of the shattered glass sparkling in her hair, the blood…
“Right,” Belinda said. “I think I’d heard that, although I’d wondered, whether Sheila… you just don’t like to let your mind go there, thinking about how badly… I really don’t know how to say this.”
Why did she have to know whether Sheila was burned beyond recognition? Why on earth would she think I’d want to talk about this? This was how you comfort a man who’s just lost his wife? Ask whether there was anything left of her?
“I felt a closed casket was best. For Kelly.”
“Of course, of course, I can understand that.”
“It’s kind of late, Belinda, and-”
“This is very difficult, Glen, but Sheila’s purse… was it recovered?”
“Her purse? Yes, it was. I got it from the police.” They’d searched the bag, looking for evidence, receipts. Wondering where she’d bought the bottle of vodka they’d found, empty, in the car. They didn’t find anything.
“The thing is-this is so awkward, Glen-but the thing is, I’d given Sheila an envelope, and I was wondering-this is horrible, I shouldn’t even be asking you this…”
“Belinda.”
“I wondered if maybe it had been in her purse, that’s all.”
“I went through her belongings, Belinda. I didn’t notice any envelope.”
“A brown business envelope. Oversized, you know.”
“I didn’t see anything like that. What was in it?”
She hesitated. “I’m sorry?”
“I said, what was in it?”
“Um, there was a bit of cash in it. Sheila was going to pick up something for me next time she was in the city.”
“In the city? New York?”
“That’s right.”
“Sheila didn’t go into New York all that often.”
“I think she’d been planning a girls’ day out, a shopping trip, and there was something I was going to have her get for me.”
“I can’t see you missing out on a trip like that.”
Belinda laughed nervously. “Well, that week was pretty hectic for me and I didn’t think I was going to be able to make it.”
“How much was in the envelope?”
Another pause. “Not that much, just a little.”
“I didn’t see anything like that,” I said. “It might have burned up in the car, but if it was in her purse, it would have survived. Did Sheila tell you she was going into the city that day?”
“That was… that was the sense I had, Glen.”
“She told me she had some errands to run, but she didn’t mention anything about going into Manhattan.”
“Listen, Glen, I never should have even brought this up. I should let you go. I’m so sorry for calling.”
She didn’t even wait for me to say goodbye. She just hung up.
I still had the receiver in my hand, debating with myself again whether to call Ann Slocum and give her hell for the way she’d treated Kelly, when I heard the doorbell ring upstairs.
It was Joan Mueller. Her hair, freed from its ponytail, was falling on her shoulders, and she had on a snug, scooped T that revealed a hint of a purple lace bra.
“I saw you pull in a little while ago and saw the lights were on,” she said once I had the door open.
“I had to pick up Kelly at a friend’s,” I told her.
“She’s gone to bed?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Did you want to step in?” I regretted it as soon as I suggested it.
“Well, okay,” she said brightly, brushing me as she went past. She stood at the entrance to the living room, wondering, maybe, whether I was going to invite her to sit down. “Thanks. I love Friday nights. No kids getting dropped off in the morning. That’s the good part. Not knowing what to do with myself, that’s the tough part.”
“What can I do for you, Joan? I haven’t forgotten your kitchen tap.”
She smiled. “I just wanted to thank you for earlier.” She stuck her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, her thumbs tucked into the belt loops.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“I kind of used you,” she said, and grinned. “Like a bodyguard.” She had to be talking about when Carl Bain showed up. “I needed a big strong man beside me, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“The two parts of my day I hate the most are when Carl drops off his kid and when he picks him up at the end of the day. He creeps me out, that guy. I get this bad vibe off him, you know? Like he’s just waiting to blow up?”
“Has he said something to you? Threatened you?”
She slipped her hands out of her pockets and waved them about as she answered. “Okay, the thing is, I think he’s worried about what his kid might be saying when he comes over. Carlson, he’s just a little guy, and they say whatever comes into their head, you know?”
“Sure.”
“And the odd time, he’ll say something about his mother. Alicia? That’s the mother’s name. Although he calls her his mommy, he doesn’t call her Alicia.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Like I need to tell you that. Anyway, sometimes, you know, you ask a kid, Hey, what’s your mother doing today? And this one time, he says his mother had to go to the hospital because she broke her arm. And I’m like, Oh no, how did she do that, and Carlson says because his dad pushed her down the stairs.”
“Jeez.”
“Yeah, no shit? But the next day, he says to me, he was wrong. She didn’t get pushed down the stairs. His dad told him that his mommy tripped. So I figure, he must have gone home, right? And said to his dad, Oh, I was telling the babysitter about Mommy going to the hospital after she got shoved down the stairs, and he must have freaked, tells his kid that he’s got it all wrong, she tripped.” She stuck out her lower lip and blew out hard enough that a few strands of hair momentarily floated.