In Sickness And In Death Part 23

"Okay, let's go." We darted out the door. I locked it. I jogged to the car with Danny by my side, wind whipping around us and blowing stray newspapers in our path. We scrambled inside. I cranked the heater. "It'll be warm in a minute."

Danny's teeth chattered in lieu of a reply.

Halfway home, an odd thought popped into my head. "Danny, did your dad ever buy flowers for a girl?"

I saw his expression in the rearview mirror. It was the "yeah, right lady" expression. "No. Why?"

"I was just curious. Erica got married to this guy named Maury Boor. He buys girls flowers all the time."

"Erica really got married?"

"It looks that way, Danny."

"I'm never getting married."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to. I'm going to get a dog."

I laughed. "Man's best friend."

The few miles to our house pa.s.sed quickly and I pulled into the driveway, pleased to see that the timer had lit the Christmas lights we'd strung the night before. Now we were as festive as the rest of the neighborhood. At least our family had one thing going right for us.

Danny followed me to the front door, slipping on the fresh snow in his high-top sneakers. I unlocked the door to let him scoot inside the warm house. Then I fished the mail out of our mailbox, which was filled to overflowing.

I took off my coat and carried the mail into the kitchen to sort. A blue envelope caught my eye. It was addressed to Danny, in care of me.

I picked it up. The handwriting looked like a child's. It had no return address. I waved it at him. "You have mail."

His expression was stunned. "I never got mail before." He darted over to stand next to me. "Who's it from?"

I held it out to him then pulled it back, hesitant. What if it was something that would hurt him? "Do you recognize the handwriting?"

Danny shook his head.

"Could it be from your dad?"

"I've never seen my dad write."

Of course not. If he didn't read, he probably didn't write, either. "Maybe someone at the jail wrote you a letter for him. Open it and see."

Danny took the letter and flipped it over. "How?"

"Just slide your thumb in this opening here and lift the flap. Or you can rip it across."

Danny tried, but his hands shook. "Here, you open it."

I did. It was a card covered in footb.a.l.l.s that said, "A Party ..." I opened the card.

Jacob, Bernie Shubert's son, was having a sleepover party for his twelfth birthday.

Danny was invited.

Danny turned the invitation over in his hands. "Should I go?"

"Sure, why not? Ray and I know Jacob's parents. They're very nice. You know Jacob, right?"

"Yeah. We play football at lunch."

"His dad told me that. He said Jacob thinks you're pretty good."

Danny's face brightened. "He does?"

I pointed to the card. "Maybe you'll play football at the party."

"Yeah." He looked inside the card again. "But it says to bring a sleeping bag."

"You can use Ray's."

"What about a present?"

I felt like I was talking him into feeling as excited as me. "You can pick out something. I'll pay for it."

"Okay." But he sounded doubtful. He set the card on the table and went into the living room to turn on the television.

I pulled ground meat out of the refrigerator to make meatb.a.l.l.s. As I rolled the b.a.l.l.s, I smiled. Danny was invited to his first birthday party. I couldn't feel more delighted.

After our mother committed suicide, Erica and I didn't get many party invitations. Those we did receive were from kids whose parents made them invite us just to be nice. I knew that because the kids made a point of telling us. My mother had never been involved in school activities and she didn't encourage us to invite friends over. We were all she could handle, and in the end, she couldn't handle even that. So the invitations had always been few and far between, since people generally invited the kids with the parents they knew best to their birthdays. I didn't mind being left out, but Erica did. She'd cried many tears over it, which made me both angry and sad. I'd feared Danny's jailed father would prevent him from blending in with the kids in much the same way. Apparently, it hadn't.

Then it occurred to me. Bernie might have had a hand in this. It might be another pity invitation. Maybe Jacob invited Danny because Bernie insisted. If Danny found out, he would be hurt, too.

Tears burned my eyes. Why did life have to be so uncertain?

I finished rolling the meatb.a.l.l.s and put the frying pan on the burner. There wasn't much I could do but encourage Danny to go to the party and have a good time. I'd hope for the best.

Danny and I ate dinner. He had two helpings of spaghetti and, after asking me to identify the spinach, chewed and swallowed his serving of that without complaint. I tried to talk to him about school and the work he did with Cory. He gave short answers designed to discourage conversation. He wasn't a teenager yet, but he'd picked up all the mannerisms.

After he carried his own dish to the sink, I didn't ask him to clear the table or wash dishes. Ray would have. I preferred to do it myself, alone.

When I heard SpongeBob come on, I hid in our bedroom and tried to read. The pages blurred as I worried first about Danny, then his father, then Erica, and finally even Maury. I glanced at the clock. Seven p.m. and still no Ray.

I thought about calling him on his cell phone, but didn't want to disturb him. Maybe he'd find out something tonight that would answer some of my concerns.

I must have fallen asleep. I awoke at nine-thirty to find Ray standing next to me.

I sat up. "Is Danny in bed?"

"He is now. He was watching television when I got home. He's all excited about Jacob's birthday party."

"He is?" I filled Ray in on my concerns. "Do you think it will be okay?"

"Sure. You know Bernie. He can't stand it if everyone isn't having a good time. Danny will have a blast. It'll be good for him." Ray disappeared into the closet.

I got out of bed and followed him. "What did you find out about the flowers?"

He took off his uniform and tossed it in the clothes hamper. "I saw the dish gardens. They look like the one on Jessica James' kitchen table, but the only other one the florist remembers Maury purchasing besides Erica's was delivered to a girl in Canandaigua. I called her. She and Maury dated for a while, then she broke it off."

"So Maury didn't give one to Jessica James."

"I don't think so, unless he paid cash and no one at the florist shop remembers. But they're pretty fascinated by Maury, so it's hard to believe they'd forget." He pulled on a pair of jeans.

"Did you ask them who else bought a dish garden recently?"

"I did. They're compiling a list of customers. I asked them to fax it to the department. That's all I can do for now. Remember, I'm not supposed to be investigating Jessica James' death."

Ray headed toward the kitchen. "Anything left from dinner?"

"We had spaghetti. I'll warm some up for you." I pulled the leftover dishes out and made up a plate for the microwave.

He sat at the breakfast bar and watched me.

After I slid his plate into the microwave, I leaned against the breakfast bar, my face inches from Ray's. "Did you hear any more about the partial print on the Camry's remote?"

"It's not Mr. Phillips' print."

Relief washed through me. Danny's father couldn't be tied to the killing, at least not yet. "Whose is it?"

"They're still running matches and gathering prints from the car dealership employees. They ruled out Mr. Phillips immediately."

"Is the investigation focusing on him?"

"They're pushing him hard to talk. His lawyer wants a deal, but the prosecutor isn't offering one. They think they have a motive."

"What?"

"Jessica James' will. She left everything to her closest relative-Danny."

The microwave dinged as if on cue. I pulled Ray's steaming plate out and set it in front of him. "I don't understand how that gives his father a motive."

"Think, Darlin'. Danny is a minor, so his legal guardian, Mr. Phillips, is probably in charge of the inheritance until Danny reaches eighteen. He might have killed her for the money, house, and possessions."

"He did get caught in her Cadillac Escalade. Maybe he thought he was ent.i.tled to it."

Ray shoved a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and chewed for a minute. "That's the part that bothers me. I can't believe he'd let himself be found in the car after he killed her. He doesn't strike me as stupid."

"All criminals make mistakes eventually, don't they? Isn't that how you catch them?"

"This guy's been caring for Danny for ten years, Jolene. He hasn't been arrested in all that time, although he has a very spotty work record. It doesn't fit."

I let Ray eat the rest of his dinner in peace. I could tell his mind was churning through the events of the last few days, looking for the missing link, just as I had been earlier. With any luck, when he found it, it would not lead to Danny's father.

Did that mean I was willing to sacrifice Maury Boor, my sister's husband? I guessed so. But I wished I could talk to Erica about him first. She might have some answers, too.

____.

The next three days pa.s.sed quietly, except for the sound of Sponge-Bob's laugh. If Danny was going to live with us for an extended period, I would need to find a better way for him to pa.s.s the time when he wasn't in school or at the shop. Either that, or he would have to watch television wearing earphones.

Ray pa.s.sed his time working from dawn to dusk. From his silence, I knew the department wasn't making much progress in finding Jessica James' killer.

Sunday night Danny asked to visit his father. Ray took him after dinner. I tried to watch television while they were gone, wondering what more, if anything, Mr. Phillips would share with Danny about the stolen car, his dead aunt, and his inheritance and how Danny would react to the information. I didn't have to wait long to find out.

Ray called me at seven-thirty. "Can you pick up Danny?"

"Sure. What's wrong?"

"Danny's father has agreed to talk. His lawyer and the prosecution are on the way. The sheriff wants me here."

"Okay, I'll be right there."

I grabbed my coat and raced out the door. Snow had begun to fall heavily and an inch or so had acc.u.mulated on the roads. I had to drive the speed limit, and when I got behind more nervous drivers, even less. I arrived at the county safety building full of pent-up frustration. I found Danny alone in the squad room, slouching in a chair with an open soda can next to him.

"Where's Ray?"

Danny pointed toward the interview rooms. "In there with my dad."

I sat on a metal chair next to him. "Do you know what's going on?"

Concern flickered across his face. "My dad's telling the truth."

"Do you know what he's saying?"

"Yeah." Danny cast a final desperate glance back toward the room where his father was. "I know everything. He never left me at Chuck E. Cheese's. I was with him the whole time."

I desperately wanted to know what happened but refrained from asking. It didn't seem right to pump Danny when his father was in there laying it all on the line. Ray could tell me later.

I stood. "Are you ready to go home?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Don't you want to know?"

I dropped back into my seat, feeling relieved that I wouldn't have to wait but apprehensive about what Danny might say. "Sure."

He scratched his neck, leaving a dark red mark. "My dad picked up the Camry at the dealership outside Geneseo. We went to my dad's friend's house and loaded all our stuff in it. My dad said we were going to move to New York City. A friend of his had a job for him there."

Danny glanced at me out of the side of his eyes, and I knew it wasn't a legitimate job. Although Danny hadn't admitted it, I figured he knew his dad had stolen the Camry, too. I let it go and nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"We went to see my aunt. I didn't know she was my aunt. My dad said she was going to give him her Cadillac Escalade to sell. She was going to report it stolen to the insurance company."

Insurance fraud. A great way to make money, as long as no one got caught.