Cast into Doubt

TWENTY-FOUR

Shelby stared at the late news without really seeing it. A reporter with all the gravitas of a Barbie doll was recounting how a man’s body had been found floating in the Schuylkill with two bullets in his head, and police were trying to identify the decomposed remains. It was the kind of news story which had become commonplace in the city. Every night another horrible crime, and Shelby watched it without caring. It only mattered, she thought, when it happened to you.

Tonight she could not focus on anything but the thought of Peggy and Bud Ridley. There was no escaping the fact that Talia was a possible connection between Chloe and the Ridleys. But Shelby’s head began to ache when she tried to think of a reason – any reason – that Talia could be involved in this. Obviously she and Talia had their disagreements. If she was honest, she knew that her sister was perpetually angry at her. But angry enough to arrange the murder of Shelby’s child? She doubted it. Was it possible that it was a coincidence that the Ridleys were on the same cruise as Chloe and Rob, whether or not Bud was being honest about how he came to be on the boat?

Glen had suggested that perhaps someone had drugged Chloe’s drink on the ship, so that it would be easy to throw her overboard. And without Chloe’s body, Shelby would never be able to prove it, or learn who had done it. But the more she pondered, the more she felt sure that Bud Ridley knew the answer. She had to find out what Bud knew. There had to be a way to trap him. She knew she should go to bed, and try to sleep, but it was hopeless. There was no point in even trying.

Sometime around the break of dawn, Shelby passed out without realizing it, and luckily awoke in time to get Jeremy to preschool. It wasn’t the sun that woke her – the day was gray and rainy. But some inner alarm clock caused her eyes to open in time. She automatically readied Jeremy for his day, and delivered him to the school. Then, she pulled a black baseball cap over her hair, turned up the collar on her jacket and drove back to South Philly. She parked, and waited near the corner of Hector Street. Some druggy-looking street people walked slowly by and stared into her car, but continued on their way. She remembered that Peggy had said that most days, her friend picked her up and took her to the church to volunteer, and that Bud no longer wanted to go. Shelby was lying in wait, hoping it was such a day.

She did not have to wait long. Peggy’s friend, a bustling, gray-haired woman, arrived in her car and went inside. After a short while, she emerged, helping Peggy down the steps. Shelby sat tight until they drove away. Then, she got out of her car and approached the house. She rang the bell and turned her back on the front window.

There was no answer from inside.

Dammit, she thought. Could he have left the house today? Then, she thought she saw the front curtain move slightly. He was there. She had taken precautions for just this eventuality. Her baseball cap and turned-up collar obscured her face.

Shelby rapped again. ‘Open up.’

Still no response.

‘I’m here from the police. We want to talk to you about a Faith Latimer.’

There was a silence from inside the house. Then, after a few moments, the locks were turned, and the front door opened.

Bud looked out, worry written all over his face. Shelby did not give him a chance to close the door. She pushed the door open and wedged her shoulder against it. ‘I thought that would get you,’ she said.

Bud glared at her. ‘Get out of here. You aren’t the cops.’

‘That’s true,’ said Shelby. ‘But I’m not leaving.’

He met her gaze and tried to stare her down but it was no use. He turned away from the door and Shelby followed him into the gloomy house, slamming the door behind her.

Bud sat down heavily in the Barcalounger in his living room, in front of the photographic shrine to his daughter, and licked his lips. He picked up the remote and switched on the television, staring at some frenetic game show. Shelby stared at him. He did not look up at her.

‘I want to talk to you,’ she said.

Bud had his palms planted on the arms of the chair as if he were trying to anchor himself in a gale. ‘Got nothing to say to you,’ he said.

The game show host’s jolly patter and audience applause was deafening. ‘Can you turn that off please?’ Shelby asked.

Bud increased the volume in response.

Shelby walked over to the television, bent down and turned off the power button. She placed herself in front of the digital box. Bud pressed impotently on the remote. Shelby was blocking the signal with her body.

‘Get out of the way,’ he growled.

‘Trying to win another cruise?’ Shelby asked sarcastically.

Bud avoided her angry gaze.

‘I saw your face when you walked in and saw me here yesterday. You looked like you’d seen a ghost. I want to know why,’ Shelby said.

Bud did not respond, or look at her.

‘You thought you’d never have to see me again, didn’t you?’

‘What do I care about seeing you?’ he growled.

‘I know that you didn’t win that cruise in a contest. I called the cruise line. They don’t do promotions like that. You lied to your wife when you told her that you won that cruise. You did no such thing.’

His defiant expression faded and he drew up his shoulders. ‘What business is that of yours?’

‘I want to know how you got on that cruise.’

‘I bought tickets,’ he said.

‘Do you have a receipt?’ she demanded. ‘A credit card bill?’

Bud looked at her in outrage. ‘Who do you think you are? I don’t have to show you anything of my . . . business.’

‘I think someone else paid for you to go on that cruise,’ she said accusingly.

‘You don’t know anything,’ he said.

‘Well, I know you didn’t pay for it. Let’s not be stupid. One look around here makes that pretty clear.’

He pursed his lips, and his gaze was flinty. ‘Must be nice to be rich and look down on everyone else,’ he said.

Shelby was not about to respond to, or be distracted by, this guilt trip. ‘Who paid for you to go on that cruise?’ Shelby demanded.

Bud shook his head. ‘It was a gift. Now, get out of my house. Mind your own business,’ he said.

‘From who? I can find out,’ she said.

Bud shrugged, his eyes averted.

‘Look at me, goddamit,’ Shelby cried. ‘What were you doing there? Why were you with my daughter? Did someone pay you?’

‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never took a dime. From anybody. Now get out of my house or I’ll call the cops.’

Shelby pulled her cell phone out and tried to hand it to him. ‘Go ahead,’ she said. ‘Let’s do that. Let’s get the cops involved in this.’

Bud did not take the phone from her. ‘Leave me alone,’ he said in a weary tone. ‘I’m a sick man. You barge in here, making threats . . . Just go away.’

Shelby hesitated, and then put her phone back in her pocket. She moved away from the TV, and sat down in a chair across from him. She took off her cap, turning it between her hands.

Bud rubbed his fingers over the remote, but did not turn on the television. For a few moments the room was silent. Then Shelby said, ‘I have a bunch of photos in my apartment too. Of my daughter. A lot like the ones you have of Faith. Baby pictures and school pictures and even a wedding picture.’

Bud licked his lips.

‘She was my only child,’ said Shelby, her voice shaking. ‘If you know what happened to her, you have to tell me. If it were Faith, you would want to know . . .’

Bud turned his head for the first time and looked at her directly. ‘Don’t try that on me,’ he said.

‘Try what?’ Shelby asked.

‘Try to make me feel sorry for you.’ Bud shook his head. ‘It’s too bad you lost your daughter. But you should have raised her better.’

Shelby frowned at him. ‘Raised her better? How dare you?’

He hesitated, and then seemed to make a decision. ‘Your daughter got drunk on that boat and fell overboard.’

‘No, Mr Ridley,’ said Shelby slowly. ‘I don’t think that’s what happened.’

Bud was shaking his head. ‘Well, you weren’t there. So you don’t know.’

‘What did you do to her?’ Shelby breathed.

‘I didn’t do anything to her. Maybe she lived dangerously and paid the price.’

‘Lived dangerously? You’re out of your mind,’ said Shelby through gritted teeth, ‘Chloe lived in a row house in Manayunk. She was a mother of a toddler. Her hobby was quilting. She worked as a receptionist.’

‘Oh really? You think that’s how she afforded that fancy cruise?’

‘For your information, that cruise actually was a present. I gave it to her.’

Shelby saw surprise and alarm flicker across Bud’s face. And then, he seemed to clamp down on whatever the thought was that had scared him.

When he spoke again his tone was petulant. ‘Your mistake,’ he said. ‘She was playing you.’

‘No, Mr Ridley. You’re the one who’s playing. And I’ve had it up to here,’ said Shelby, slicing the side of her hand across her own throat. ‘Are you the one who pushed her? Did someone pay you to kill my daughter?’

Bud did not seem shooked by this terrible accusation. Instead, he shook his head, as if in disgust. ‘Figures you’d say that,’ he said in a withering tone. ‘That’s how you see life isn’t it?’ His tone was sarcastic. He seemed to be regaining his footing. ‘Hooray for me, the hell with everybody else. Maybe that’s where she learned it.’

‘Learned what?’ Shelby protested. ‘What are you talking about?’

He glared at her through narrowed eyes. ‘For your information, all people are not like that. Some people care about other people. They help people. They don’t take advantage of other people. Like Chloe.’

Shelby gasped. When she heard Chloe’s name, issuing contemptuously from his mouth, it was as if he were spitting on it. She could not stand it another moment. She leapt to her feet. ‘That’s enough. Shut your mouth. Just answer me. Did you kill my daughter? Did someone pay you to push her off that boat? Is my sister involved in this?’ Shelby could feel herself growing hysterical as she brought her sister’s name into the equation. She focused on calming herself down.

Bud turned away from her again with a stubborn finality. ‘The chickens have come home to roost,’ he said. ‘How do you like it?’

Shelby growled at him. ‘Tell me. Tell me what you did.’

Ridley shook his head. ‘Leave me alone. I’m a sick man. I’m dying.’

Shelby stared at him. She knew it was true, although he looked hale and hearty, reclining in his chair. She suddenly realized that it didn’t matter. He was no match for her wrath. Not in the long run. She took a deep breath, and pointed a shaking finger at him. ‘All right. You listen to me now. You have a secret and it is not safe. It’s all gonna come out. Everything. There’s nothing you can do to stop me. I’m like a dog with a bone. Do you understand me, Mr Ridley? I know you did it. I don’t know why, but I know you did. I will find the proof. You pushed my daughter off that boat. And you’re going to pay for it.’

Bud raised his shoulders, as if to ward off her words. ‘You’re crazy,’ he said.

Shelby had to ball up her fists and dig her nails into her palms in order to resist the temptation to strike him. She suddenly realized how she could hurt him more. ‘What do you think Peggy will say? How will your wife like it when she learns what you did? What will Faith think about her father then?’

Bud stared at the photo gallery of Faith, his chin trembling.

‘You’re about to find out,’ Shelby said.