“How well did you know her?” I asked, settling into my chair once again.
“Who?”
“Jennifer Goodall, of course.”
Dorothy shrugged. “I saw her hanging around the set is all. I didn’t exactly know her.”
“How about Kevin?” I ventured.
Using both hands, Dorothy lay her sandwich down on her plate. “Well, speak of the devil…”
I turned to look. Emma Kirby was approaching from the direction of the soda dispenser carrying a large cup in each hand. Behind her came Dorothy’s son, Kevin, balancing a pizza box on the flat of one hand. “May we join you?” Kevin asked, using his free hand to pull a chair out for Emma.
“Of course you may,” Dorothy purred, patting the seat of the chair to her left, smiling proudly, as if to say, See, my son knows the difference between can and may.
Kevin took the seat his mother had designated. He lifted the lid on the pizza box to reveal a pie heaped so high with toppings that I wondered how he had had the strength to carry it from the kitchen to the table. He scooped up a slice tethered to the mother ship by a long string of cheese. Kevin caught the string with a finger, twisted it around until it broke, then slid the slice into his mouth, point first.
Dorothy observed this operation without comment. “You going to eat all that?”
Emma grinned. “I’m planning to help.” She leaned forward and peered into the box. “Pineapple. Ick!”
Kevin studied the pizza like a surgeon about to make an incision. He plucked pineapple bits off several slices and piled them up in the space where the slice he had just inhaled had so recently lain. “Happy now?”
A look I couldn’t read passed between the two midshipmen.
None of this was making any sense. One minute Emma’s telling Kevin to get lost, the next he’s her new best friend, even bowing to her preference in pizza toppings. Had they settled their differences?
“What’s wrong, Kev? You look a bit down,” commented his mother.
Emma licked tomato sauce off her fingers. “Kevin was hoping to step into the role of the Beadle this weekend,” she said. “Adam’s been S.I.R. for the past few days.”
“S.I.R.?” I hadn’t heard that expression before.
“Sick in room.”
“Yeah, but at the last minute the S.O.B. rallied.” Kevin’s lips curled into a smile around his third slice of pizza. “Joke!” he added.
I wasn’t so sure.
Emma shot out of her chair, waggling her fingers. “Gotta wash my hands.”
I saw an opportunity to speak with Emma alone. “Me, too,” I said. I pushed the remains of my sandwich aside and hustled off after her.
I caught up with Emma near the trophy case, stopping her with a light hand on her shoulder. “What is going on?” I whispered. “One minute you’re talking about taking out a restraining order against Kevin, the next minute he’s your best pal.”
Keeping her greasy fingertips well clear of her uniform, Emma shrugged. “It’s all right, Hannah. Kevin knows.”
“He knows?
“Uh-huh.”
“That you’re gay?”
“Uh-huh.”
Behind Emma’s head a plaque the size of a turkey platter announced that in 1976 a midshipman named Ian Markwood had been named Most Valuable Player. I stared at the engraved bronze and wondered how one broke the news that you were gay to somebody who was sweet on you.
“How did Kevin react?”
Emma leaned back against the trophy case. “He didn’t say anything at first, but then he smiled and said he understood.”
“I would have thought he’d be crushed.”
Emma shook her head. “It’s an ego thing. Kevin said he couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. Now he knows that it’s not his fault I’m not attracted to him that way. To tell you the truth, Hannah, I think he was relieved. And now that all the sexual tension is gone from the relationship, we can be friends. You know?”
“Wasn’t coming out to him a bit risky?” I asked, thinking how easily it could have gone the other way. Kevin could have taken his bruised ego straight to the Commandant of Midshipman and Emma’s naval career would have been toast.
“I trust Kevin,” she said. “We have this pact.”
“Pact?”
“Sorry, Hannah, that’s just between the two of us. But I can tell you this.” Her dark eyes grew wide and serious. “Kevin is like a big brother to me now, and I couldn’t be happier.”
I’d always wanted a big brother-so he’d bring home his cute friends, for one thing-but my parents had been completely uncooperative and I’d ended up the middle child of three sisters. “Big brothers can come in handy,” I said.
She winked. “Exactly.”
I shivered, hoping that Kevin hadn’t helped his “little sister” cover up a murder.
“Go wash your hands,” I ordered, sensing that Emma had made her point and wouldn’t be inclined to elaborate, at least not here in Dahlgren Hall with people to-ing and fro-ing past us on their way to the restrooms. “I’ll see you back at the table.”
When I rejoined Dorothy and her son, Dorothy seemed to be in the middle of bolstering Kevin’s shattered ego. “Professor Black told me you’re sure to get a lead next year,” she said. “And there’s still a chance that what’s-his-name won’t be able to go on.”
“Adam. His name is Adam, Mother.” Kevin selected another slice of pizza and raised it to his mouth. “I’m proud of what I’m doing with Jonas Fogg, Mother.” He took a bite.
“Yes, but it’s not a singing role, Kevin, now is it?”
Kevin’s pale skin flushed. “Can’t you leave it alone? Please?”
That was my cue to say How about those Redskins? but fortunately Emma rejoined us and the awkward moment passed.
“I’m so glad that you and Kevin are dating,” Dorothy commented, addressing Emma.
Kevin glared at his mother, but she didn’t appear to notice.
“When Sarah broke up with him,” she forged on, “he seemed to lose interest in everything. If it weren’t for you and the musical-”
“Mother!”
“No need to shout, Kevin.”
“Come to dinner on Sunday,” I interjected. “Let me tempt you with some decent food.”
Emma’s head shot up. “Will you make lasagna?”
“If you like.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh my gawd, Kevin, Hannah’s lasagna is to die for. It’s got meatballs.”
“Dorothy?”
“Sunday?” Dorothy shook her head. “Sorry, Hannah, but Ted and I have a prior commitment.”
I hoped my relief didn’t show in my face. If I didn’t have to play Hannah the Happy Hostess to Dorothy and the admiral, maybe I could get to the bottom of what was really going on between Kevin and Emma.
“How about you, Kevin? Around noon?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Ives,” Kevin mumbled around a mouthful of pepperoni, green pepper, mushrooms, and pineapple. “We’ll look forward to it.”
But that turned out to be an appointment none of us would be able to keep.
CHAPTER 12
It seemed as if my head had just hit the pillow when I dreamed I heard the doorbell ringing.
I rose up on one elbow, straining my ears. At first I heard nothing but the roar of the furnace kicking in, but then it came again, the muffled brrring-brrring of the ancient doorbell attached to our front door.
I squinted at the clock: 5:00. Who could be calling at such an ungodly hour?
I turned on the bedside lamp, swung my legs over the side of the mattress, and felt around for my slippers. As I slipped my toes into them, I turned to check on Paul. He lay on his side, one arm stuffed under his pillow, breathing deeply, sleeping the sleep of a man who’d drunk a bit too much beer with his brother-in-law the night before. I didn’t have the heart to wake him. Paul didn’t have early classes on Friday.