Cal parked on the street and as he went around to the trunk to grab his bag, Crystal came out the front door with a slice of pizza in her hand.
“You’re missing dinner,” she said.
Cal glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes past five.
“Looks good,” he said. “What kind is that?”
“Hawaiian,” she said. “With pineapple on it. But there’re other kinds, too.”
“Really?”
“There’s a pepperoni one. And a veggie one. And wings. He brought home lots of stuff,” Crystal said.
“You mean Dwayne?”
The girl nodded. “I forgot his name.”
“That’s okay. How are you doing?”
“I want my dad to come.”
“I know,” Cal said.
“Dwayne didn’t want to watch the Weather Channel.”
“Not everyone finds it as interesting as you do,” he said. “And it is Dwayne and Celeste’s TV.”
She moved in close enough that her shoulder was touching the side of his waist, but she was looking down and beyond him.
“What happened to my mother?” she asked.
“The police came. They’ll take your mom out. They’ll look after things.”
“Was she still dead?”
“Yes.”
“I knew that. It was a stupid question.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Cal said.
“I want to know what happens next,” she said.
“I don’t know, exactly. That’ll be up to your dad, mostly.”
“I mean, like right away,” Crystal said. “Do they cut my mom open and stuff like on TV?”
Cal rested a hand tentatively on her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch, he held it there more firmly.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “There’ll be an autopsy to be sure of the cause of death. You know what that is?”
“Yes.”
“So, yes, they might have to do some of that.”
Her shoulder pressed into him a little harder. “You don’t talk to me like I’m a little kid.”
“You deserve the truth,” Cal said. “I don’t know any way to get through this without being honest with you.” He patted her. “Believe me, if I could find a way, I’d try.”
“My mom said your wife died. And that you had a son and he died, too.”
“That’s right.” He paused. “It was a few years ago. Before I moved back here.”
“Are you sad anymore?”
Cal tightened his grip on the girl’s shoulder. “Every minute of every day,” he said.
Crystal thought about that for a few seconds, saying nothing. Then, abruptly, she moved away from him and walked back into the house.
Cal followed. Dinner was being presented in the living room, in front of the television. There were three open pizza boxes and a container of chicken wings with hot sauce crowding the coffee table. The TV was tuned to baseball. Dwayne was on the couch, holding a gnawed wing between thumb and forefinger. When he saw Cal, he said, “Just missed the end of a Toronto-Seattle game.”
“Don’t watch much baseball,” he said.
“Hey, grab a beer and have some pizza!” Dwayne said amiably. “We got your veggie, which I got for Celeste, and Hawaiian and another one here with sausage and shit on it. Didn’t know what the kid liked, but she seems to like the one with the pineapple. And there’re wings, too, but they’re kinda messy.”
“Looks great,” Cal said. “Where’s Celeste?”
“In the kitchen,” he said, and went back to watching the television.
Crystal was eating her pizza at the kitchen table with a can of ginger ale. Celeste was at the fridge, taking out a beer for herself. She cracked the top, took a swig.
“Oh, hey,” she said, a smile on her face. “Did you get some pizza?”
“Just about to.”
“Beer?”
“Why would I say no to that?”
She handed him one, then brought down a plate from the cupboard. “Get some pizza. But the veggie is mine.” She gave him a look of mock fury.
“Like I’m gonna steal your veggie,” he said. “Dwayne seems pretty upbeat.”
“I know,” she said, whispering. “I’m trying not to make a big deal about it. It’s just nice to see him happy for once.”
“Sure. He brought home a feast.”
Keeping her voice low, Celeste said, “He got a deposit on a job. Or a retainer, or something. I think he said Walmart. They pay him a certain amount a month, and if they have any paving needs in their lot, they call him and he fixes it. So, some months he might do no work for them, but he still gets paid, and other months he might have a lot of potholes to fill or whatever, but it all balances out.”
“Sounds like a good deal,” Cal said. “I’m gonna get something to eat.”
“Remember, hands off the veggie.”
“You couldn’t pay me to eat that,” he said. He took his plate and his beer and went into the living room. He grabbed a slice of Hawaiian and a slice of pepperoni, plus half a dozen wings, and sat down on a La-Z-Boy chair.
“Don’t get too comfy there,” Dwayne said, grinning. “Soon as I’m done here, I’m dropping into that chair and not moving till bedtime.”
“I’ll consider myself warned,” Cal said. “Listen, this is a lot of food. Let me pay you back for this.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“At least let me contribute.”
A firm shake of the head. “No fucking way.” He glanced around suddenly. “Where’s the kid? Celeste already told me not to swear in front of the kid.”
“She’s in the kitchen.”
“Good.”
“Celeste told me about your good news. About the Walmart retainer.”
Dwayne fixed his eyes on the TV. “Yeah, well, it’s a good thing, no doubt about that.”
“Nice to have something to celebrate on a day like this,” Cal said.
Dwayne glanced his way, puzzled, as though he’d forgotten about all the people who had died in Promise Falls that day. “Oh, right, for sure. You know, they were handing out free water by the park today, but hey”-he raised his beer-“who needs that stuff?”
Cal returned the salute with his own bottle.
“Remember what W. C. Fields said about water?” Cal asked.
“W. C. who?”
“Fields. A comic from years ago. Anyway, he said he didn’t drink water because”-Cal lowered his voice-“fish fuck in it.”
Dwayne laughed, slapped a palm on one knee. “That’s a good one.”
Cal set his plate and beer on a small table next to his chair, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and said, “Think I’ll hit the can before I have anything else.”
“There’s a plan,” Dwayne said.
Cal slipped out of the living room, but instead of heading upstairs, he quietly went out the back door, down the steps, and meandered in the direction of Dwayne’s pickup. He’d backed it to within a foot of the garage door.
The pickup had what was called a tonneau cover over the bed, made of black vinyl. It kept items in the truck from falling out, and could be locked to foil would-be thieves. It could be tipped up at the back to allow an item to be dropped in, without opening the tailgate.
Cal went around to the far side of the truck and attempted to lift the cover an inch, testing to see whether it was locked. It was not.
He got out his phone, opened the flashlight app. There was still plenty of sunlight, but he wasn’t planning to open the cover that far. He raised it about a foot, which cast light near the tailgate. Cal stuck the flashlight in, and there was just enough light to see that not only was there nothing near the end of the bed, but nothing was in there at all.
He dropped the cover back into place and put away his phone.
There was a regular door on the property line side of the garage, which, Cal was pleased to note, was out of sight from the house. He tried the door.
Locked.
Shit.
He wanted to know what it was Dwayne might have been picking up at the back end of that printing shop. He was willing to bet it was not several thousand invoices for his paving company.
There was a small window, divided into four smaller panes, in the side door. At first Cal thought the glass was simply too dirty to see through, then realized that something had been taped over it. A piece of black paper, or a garbage bag.