In Sickness and in Death

The next morning I phoned Dr. Albert. His receptionist said he didn’t have any openings this week and gave me the runaround. I insisted on speaking to him directly. She grudgingly took a message.

He called back within an hour. “Were you calling about your sister? I’m willing to make another appointment for her this week, but it would be better if you escort her. She didn’t show up this Wednesday.”

“She’s missing.” I rattled off the whole sordid tale, including all I knew about Maury Boor. “He’s not a patient of yours, is he?”

“I couldn’t tell you if he was.”

I got the feeling from his tone that Maury wasn’t a patient. “What do you think of his behavior, the roses and the stalking?”

“I’d say he’s desperate for attention.”

“Does that make him dangerous?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Ray and I have showed his picture around town. We don’t know where else to look.”

Dr. Albert changed topics. “I guess I misunderstood. Did you want an appointment for yourself?”

I explained about Danny and his father. Dr. Albert listened without interruption. He had a question when I finished.

“Did you talk with Social Services about making an appointment for him with me?”

“No.”

“You’ll need to call them first for authorization.”

“Really?”

“I’m afraid so.”

No way would I do that. A conversation with Social Services might get him labeled as a troubled child—if he wasn’t already—or, worse, removed from our home. Ray and I were still a safe haven for him. Besides, I kinda liked having him around. From all indications, Danny liked it here, too.

I hung up disappointed and frustrated. I only wanted to help Danny. Why did bureaucracy always mess things up?

Danny sat at the table, working on his assignments when I walked into the kitchen. I wondered if Ray had gotten him going this morning or if he’d taken the initiative himself. Either way, I was pleased.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

He didn’t look up. “Ray made eggs. Brown eggs.”

“How were they?”

“Okay.”

I poured a glass of juice and peeled the lid off a container of yogurt. I ate leaning against the sink. “How’s the homework coming along?”

“I’m almost done. I have to study for a geography test.” Danny glanced at the clock. “What time are we leaving for the shop?”

“In fifteen minutes.”

He nodded. His pencil moved more quickly over the page. Impressed, I left him alone to finish.

On the drive to work, Danny talked nonstop. Most of his sentences started with the words “You know what, Jolene?” and ended with something Cory had told him about cars. I even learned a few things. But once we reached the shop, I was delighted to hand him off to Cory. The constant conversation, after all my months of solitude, was a little more than I could take. He’d talked our ears off last night, too, while we unpacked the outdoor Christmas decorations and hung them up.

I went in my office and closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

The phone ruined my peaceful retreat.

“Jolene? This is Maury Boor. Is this a bad time?”

A bad time? Was he nuts? “Maury, where’s Erica?”

“She’s here. She’s really … not well.”

Where had I heard that before? “What’s she doing?”

He lowered his voice to a whisper, “She’s curled up on the floor in the corner, sucking on her hair.”

“Call an ambulance, Maury. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? If you love Erica, you have to do what’s right for her. You can’t help her. She needs medical attention.”

“She said she’d never speak to me again if I had her locked up.”

“Maury, she always says that. No one really wants to spend time in the psych center, but she needs to.”

“I can’t do it. Can you come?”

“Where are you?”

He gave me an address an hour outside of Wachobe, an apartment complex. He said they were in apartment 4B.

I hung up.

Should I call an ambulance to meet me there? They’d undoubtedly arrive and take her before I could make it. I might not get to see Erica for days if I did it that way, and I needed to see her, if only to verify with my own eyes that she would be all right. I decided no ambulance.

Should I call Ray? He’d want to question Maury, which might further aggravate Erica and the whole situation. The apartment complex wasn’t in our county, so he’d have to get off duty. I didn’t want him to get in any more trouble. I’d gotten him in enough hot water in the last year. I decided no Ray.

I did tell Cory exactly where I was going and if I didn’t call him within two hours, for him to call Ray. Two hours would give me more than enough time to drive there, assess the situation, and get whatever help Erica needed. Of course, if Maury was a serial killer luring me to my death, he’d have time enough to accomplish that, too. But this was geeky Maury Boor. I’d take the chance.

I hugged Danny goodbye. He didn’t seem to mind the hug, although he didn’t reciprocate.

I roared out of the parking lot. With a little extra pressure on the Lexus’ gas pedal, I made it to the apartment complex in forty-five minutes.

It sat fifty feet off a county road, the only building in sight. The rectangular, stucco four-story building had only one car in its parking lot—a white Honda Prelude. I parked next to it and observed the sheets and beach towels that substituted for curtains in all the apartment windows. Erica had really moved on up this time.

The apartment building had an exterior staircase that ran up the center of the building. Signs indicated the B apartments were on the right, A to the left. I went right.

By the top of the second flight of stairs, I realized I was out of shape. By the third, I huffed and puffed. By the time I reached Maury and Erica’s door, I had to lean on the railing and rest. If Maury attacked me, I’d have no air left to put up a fight.

After a minute of deep breathing, I approached the apartment and knocked.

The door flew open as if Maury’d been standing just on the other side.

I got a glimpse of his baby-cheeked face before he reached for me. I tried to move back, but he was too quick. He pulled me into a hug. “Thank God you’re here.”

I suffered his embrace for all of a second. “Let go of me, Maury. I want to see Erica.”

He stepped out onto the landing, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t tell her I called you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I tried to push past him, but he had grown since high school. He outweighed me by at least seventy pounds.

“Can you pretend you found us on your own?”

“What?”

He licked his lips. “Please? I don’t want her to hate me.”

“She won’t hate you. Now get out of my way.”

Maury blocked me again. “She hates you.”

That stopped me cold. I blinked back tears. “She didn’t say that.”

“She said she doesn’t love you anymore because all you do is lock her up in the hospital.”

For all of a second, his words bothered me. Then reality kicked in. “Maury, the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference. Now get the hell out of my way.”

He opened the door all the way and stood aside.

I rushed in. The living room was empty, the kitchen littered with takeout boxes and paper plates. It smelled like dirty feet and, oddly enough, lemons. I headed for the door off the living room. I pushed it open.

Sheets and blankets were clumped in the center of the bed and clothes were strewn all over the floor, some of them Erica’s. I whisked the covers off the bed. No Erica.

I checked the corners of the room. No Erica.

I peeked in the bath, which smelled of wet towels and lavender. She was here someplace.

I bent to check under the bed. I heard a whimper.

I stood and tipped my head to see behind the bedroom door.

Erica.

She wore tattered jeans and a pink sweater, her feet bare, her tangled blonde hair covering her eyes.

I crept closer, pushed the door aside, and knelt in front of her. “Erica? Sweetie?”

She pulled her feet closer to her body.

I reached out and smoothed the hair from her face.

Her eyes were puffy and red with mascara circles the size of mini donuts. She held a hank of hair in her fingers as she sucked on it.

“Oh, Erica.”

She didn’t acknowledge me.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Dr. Albert’s emergency number. He said to bring her in as soon as possible.

I sat cross-legged in front of her and took her free hand in mine. It was like ice. I rubbed it gently. “Everything will be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

She let out a sigh and murmured something.

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

Her gaze met mine. She pulled the hair from her mouth.

“Mom said you would come.”





I rode in the backseat with Erica. Maury drove his Honda Prelude. Dr. Albert met us at the door of the psych center. He touched Erica’s shoulder, then mine, joining us in a pseudo triangle. “I’ll take her from here. Everything’s going to be fine. She’ll call you in a few days.”

Where had I heard that before?

The last five times I’d checked her in.

I kissed Erica and ran my hand down her cheek before the attendants rolled her away. She sucked harder on her hair.

Maury started to chase after her. The guard blocked him. “I’m sorry, sir. You can’t go with her.”

He looked at me, bewildered and forlorn. “I’m her husband.”

I slid my arm through his and tugged him in the direction of the cafeteria. “Let’s talk about that.”

While Maury purchased coffee for himself and a Snapple iced tea for me, I dialed Cory to let him know everything had gone according to plan. Then I dialed Ray and filled him in. He was more concerned about Maury than Erica.

“How’s he behaving?”

“He’s lost, Ray. He’s the same geek he was in high school, just taller and better looking.”

“Where were they?”

I described the apartment to him. From my brief glimpse, the furniture had been old, the carpets threadbare, and the housekeeping less than desirable, but I wouldn’t say dirty, just used. “He still claims they’re married.”

“Ask to see the marriage certificate. We can verify with the officiant and witnesses.”

I rushed Ray off the phone because Maury appeared with our drinks in hand. He set mine in front of me, put his down, and reached for mine again. He took off the shrink wrap and popped the cap before returning it to me.

He smiled as he sat. “I don’t want you to chip a nail.”

I was torn between “Aw, shucks, how considerate” and “Do I really look like I’d care?” I settled for a simple “Thanks.”

He sipped his coffee and glanced around the room, which had only a few other occupants seated on plastic chairs. “Is this where Erica will eat?”

“She’ll eat in her room.”

“Is the food any good?”

“It’s pre-chewed. You know, mashed potatoes, Jell-O, pudding. I’m not sure why. The patients have mental problems, not gastrointestinal.”

“She hates it here.”

I took a long swig of my iced tea while I tried to formulate a response he might understand. He hadn’t spent the last fifteen years coping with Erica’s issues. I had.

“Sometimes she’s been known to think of it as a resort and spa. When her life doesn’t go the way she wants, she’ll do … something to get herself admitted.”

His eyes told me he was wounded. “She was happy with me.”

I couldn’t argue. I didn’t know for sure. “She has to take her medicine every day, Maury, or she starts to act differently. Sometimes she’s wild and takes too many risks, and sometimes she’s like this. Without the medication, she’s unpredictable.” I decided not to mention “suicidal.” I still wasn’t sure of the reason behind all of her suicide attempts. Some had been pretty lame for a girl of her ingenuity. Of course, Dr. Albert didn’t agree with me on this, and he was the expert. I only knew Erica needed professional help.

“Is it because of your mom?” He stared at his coffee cup, twisting it between his hands. “Because she killed herself? Is that why Erica acts this way?”

Life should be so simple. “Erica has been diagnosed as bipolar. That’s why she takes the medicine. I’m sure our mother’s death created issues for her, too. She didn’t always get along with our father, and she had difficulties with school. I can’t really categorize all her behavior for you. I’m not even sure Dr. Albert can, but maybe you can talk with him later and see what he says. She’s … unpredictable, like I said. But loveable.”

His eyes met mine. “I love her. I’ve always loved her, even in high school.”

“I remember all the times you asked her out.”

He blushed and cast his eyes on his coffee cup again. “Erica didn’t want to go out with me then. She said I was too short, but I think it was because I was a geek.” He looked up at me through his eyelashes as if waiting for me to respond.

I didn’t know what to say.

He pulled himself taller in the chair and squared his shoulders. “But I grew. I wear contacts now. I look good.”

I had to smile. “You do look good, Maury.” His dark hair had a fashionable cut, tight on the sides, spiky on the top. His skin was clear, which it didn’t used to be. But then, in high school, whose skin was? No longer hidden by thick glasses, his brown eyes didn’t look as fearful as they used to. Of course, the football team wasn’t here. He might still jump in a locker to avoid them if they appeared. “Do you have a job?”

He slumped again. “Not at the moment.”

“Are you really married to my sister?”

“Yes! We went to Niagara Falls. It was very romantic. I have pictures.”

I didn’t like the sound of Niagara Falls. That’s where my parents went on their honeymoon. It would be just like Erica to follow in Mom’s footsteps. “Do you have a marriage certificate?”

“At the apartment. Why? Do you want to see it?”

“Yes, Maury, I do.”

____


About a mile away from the psych center, the sparse homes in the surrounding area disappeared in the side view mirror, and I realized I was alone in a car with a man I’d thought had the potential to be a serial killer. Alone, and headed in the direction of an even more isolated place, his apartment. Worse, I hadn’t told Cory or Ray that it would be necessary for Maury to drive me back to my car. It would take them awhile to figure out where to look if I didn’t come home today.

I glanced at the side view again. No other cars in sight. At least I didn’t have to worry about getting shot at, unless Maury had a gun. I had considered him a possibility for my assailant at the grocery store parking lot, and here I was letting him drive me around. I’d like to think I was brave, but I knew I was more like stupid.

I glanced at him.

His eyes were on the road, his posture rigidly upright, hands gripping the wheel firmly in the ten and two o’clock position.

Geek.

The hills and trees flew by the window. I had no idea where we were. I knew how to get to the psych center from Wachobe and how to get to Maury’s apartment from there, too. But I had no idea how to get from the psych center to Maury’s. He could be driving in the opposite direction. I wouldn’t know. One stretch of farmland looked pretty much like the next.

Ray’s words came back to haunt me. You have to watch out for the quiet ones.

My heartbeat accelerated. I felt my armpits dampen, then a trickle of sweat ran between my breasts. A few more minutes and I’d be short of breath with a full-blown anxiety attack. I recognized the symptoms. I’d had a few over the past few months. And here I was ready to hyperventilate without a paper bag.

Maury made a right turn and his apartment building came into sight.

I took a deep cleansing breath like Dr. Albert had suggested. My heartbeat slowed.

Maury parked next to my Lexus. Why, in an otherwise empty lot, do we always park next to the one car in it? Are we so afraid to stand out from the crowd?

Maury got out of the car and took off at a fast pace for the stairs. He didn’t even check to see if I was behind him.

Hard to believe he planned to attack me when he didn’t even care if I came inside. I huffed and puffed my way up the four flights of stairs again, my knees snapping and popping as I tried to catch up with Maury. For thirty-eight, my body was sure going south, in more ways than one.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I could see the door to Maury’s apartment stood open. We may have left it that way. Surely no one would want to steal any of his meager possessions.

He rushed inside and across the living room and began to dig through a stack of magazines and newspapers, leaving me to close the door behind us. I thought about leaving it open in case I had to scream for help, but with the empty parking lot, what would be the point? I closed it, leaning against it in case I needed to flee.

“Here it is!” Maury waved the white document in triumph. He strode across the room with more confidence and held it out to me.

It was all there in black and white. I repeated the clergyman’s name in my head over and over, not wanting to pull out a piece of paper and write it down in front of Maury like I didn’t trust him or something. After all, he was my new brother-in-law. He was family now.

What was the old saying? You can pick your friends but not your family? How appropriate.

“Congratulations.” I hoped he didn’t hear the sarcasm in my voice.

He beamed. “Thanks.”

“I’ll tell Dr. Albert to have Erica call you as soon as she’s allowed.” I glanced around the room, looking for a phone. “What’s your number here?”

“I use my cell.”

“Okay.” I took out a piece of paper and wrote down his number. Then I quickly added the clergyman’s and witnesses names, too, and shoved the paper back in my purse. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

Maury blinked.

I opened the door and stepped out onto the landing.

“Hey, Jolene?”

I turned back.

He was leaning on the door frame, one hand in his pocket. “Is Erica allowed to get flowers? Do you think she would like roses?”

How special. I managed a weak smile. “Why don’t you wait a few days? Maybe take something when you go to see her. But you know, Maury, that reminds me. Did Erica tell you about her friend Josie Montalvo?”

Okay, so I told a little white lie, but I figured he’d be more inclined to answer if he thought Erica was involved.

He shook his head. It was hard to tell for sure, but he didn’t seem to recognize the name.

I tried again. “Actually, that’s her stage name. Her real name is Jessica James. She was a stripper at The Cat’s Meow.”

His expression morphed into recognition. “Erica didn’t mention her, but I know The Cat’s Meow.”

“Do you know any of the girls who worked there?”

“Not really.”

“Do you go there?”

He stiffened. “Not anymore. I’m a married man.”

I resisted the impulse to roll my eyes. He’d as much as admitted to visiting the club, just “not anymore.”

“Erica will be pleased you feel that way, but she doesn’t have any objections to an unmarried man having a good time. Did you ever go there and …”—how could I put this delicately—“have a good time with one of the girls?”

Revulsion washed over his face. He reached for the door. “Those girls are nothing but trash, Jolene. I wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole.” He slammed it shut.

Revolting, untouchable trash. That’s what he’d said.

How come his answer didn’t make me feel any better?





I drove back to the shop, wondering about Maury’s statements. It probably wasn’t so unusual to be both attracted and repelled by the dancers at the club. Like Ray said, men liked to look. Most men might even want to touch, but if their brain could overpower their sex drive, they probably wouldn’t want to touch one of those girls, who, let’s face it, had more fingerprints on them than a doorknob. If they did touch, they might feel remorse and shame afterwards. The few that teetered on the mental edge might want to stamp out the source of their shame—the girl. That was an old story, but history does repeat itself. Was it now Maury’s story? Had Maury, unable to attract a nice girl even with attention and roses, succumbed to the temptations of a prostitute, then killed her in a fit of disgust?

I tried to picture him doing that.

Instead, I saw the captain of the football team stuffing Maury in a locker while the rest of the team cheered him on. Erica had told me that story one day when she came home from school. She’d cried. She couldn’t believe they had been so cruel. In fact, she’d been the one to release Maury from the locker. Erica had a kind heart.

Maury could have years of anger built up inside. Now that he was physically able, had he taken it out on someone weaker than himself?

Stranger things have happened.

Like my sister marrying Maury.

What were ya thinking, Erica?

I pulled into the parking lot behind Asdale Auto Imports and entered the shop through the garage to find Danny sitting in the race car while Cory explained all the instrumentation to him. Cory looked up with questions in his eyes when I appeared.

“Hey, Jo. How’s Erica?”

“Dr. Albert admitted her to the psych center. She’ll call in a few days.”

Cory nodded. He knew the drill. “What about Maury?”

“He’s my new brother-in-law.”

“Huh.” He didn’t seem all that surprised, but then again, he knew Erica.

“Yeah, huh.” Further elaboration wasn’t required. Cory would know what I was thinking. But at his age, Danny shouldn’t know, and he’d been following our discussion like a tennis match. I opened my mouth to try to explain, but I didn’t have the energy or the desire to hash it all over with him. It was what it was.

Instead, I gave Danny what I hoped was an encouraging, carefree smile and started toward my office. I’d set an example of how to take life in stride. Besides, if we discussed the issue any further, I might let a swearword, or two, go—not the example I wanted to set. “Any calls?”

“Just one. Celeste called. You’re supposed to call her back.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Celeste Martin?”

“Is there any other?”

Thank God, no. This was a first. I don’t believe Celeste had ever called me. In fact, since high school, the only time we spoke was when I went in her store or ran into her somewhere—except, of course, for the time I confronted her at home about dating my father. She certainly had never, ever called me. But, then, I didn’t ever have any gossip to share. I wondered if that was what she was after now.

Curious, I walked through the showroom into my office and shrugged off my jacket. As I reached for the coat rack to hang it, I caught sight of Celeste crossing the street in my direction. She must have been watching Main Street for my car.

I froze.

She didn’t wait for the light. She didn’t wait for the oncoming automobile, either. She held out her left arm in the “stop” position and walked right in front of it. It halted inches from her kneecaps. She didn’t spare the driver a glance.

The bells jingled on the front door when she breezed through. Her heels clicked across the showroom floor. “Jolene, you didn’t call me back.”

I shook off my shock and finished hanging my coat on the rack. “I just walked in, Celeste. Is something wrong?”

“Your sister has been admitted to the psych center.”

“Oh.” So much for patient confidentiality. “I know. I delivered her there myself.”

For a moment, Celeste appeared deflated. Then she fluffed up again. “She married Maury Boor.”

I sat behind my desk and gestured for Celeste to sit down as well. “I know. He told me.”

She sniffed.

“How did you hear?” I leaned forward, curious to unlock Celeste’s secrets for a change.

She seemed to consider a moment before deciding to answer. “Mindy’s cousin Emma works at the florist shop. Maury came in and purchased a dish garden for your sister. He asked to have it delivered to the psych center, along with a card that read ‘Like our love, this will grow forever. Your husband, Maury.’”

There you have it. Sweet as saccharine.

Celeste continued, “Emma was shocked.”

I waited for more.

Celeste examined her fingernails as if she hadn’t left me hanging.

I got it. She needed me to admit I didn’t know something. “Why was Emma shocked, Celeste?”

“Because Maury always buys roses, lots of roses. He’s bought so many roses for so many women Emma thinks he’s crazy.”

I cringed. Another certifiable in the Asdale clan after all my years of trying to avoid it. “Literally?”

Celeste shrugged. “Well, no, but he tries too hard. He buys roses for girls he doesn’t even know yet. Emma tried to explain to him once that he might want to get to know a girl first before he gives her flowers. He didn’t seem to get it. She said he’s spent thousands on roses in the shop over the years.”

I laughed, the kind of laugh that said I surrendered to the gods who thought this loon belonged in my family. “Wow.”

“He’s bought a couple dish gardens before, too. Emma said they’re handmade wooden planters that looked like a wishing well with an African violet, white gerberas, prayer plants, and godseffiana. Very pretty, apparently.”

I realized my lips had parted in astonishment. My thumb was black as car grease. I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded lovely—although no more unique than the roses, apparently. “I’m sure Erica will appreciate it.”

Celeste looked at me. Stared, really.

I forced myself not to squirm. “I appreciate your keeping an eye out for Erica and Maury. It was very … nice”—I almost gagged on the word—“of you to rush right over. Thank you.”

She didn’t blink. She didn’t leave, either, which is what people normally do after I thank them.

I tilted my head. “Was there something else, Celeste?”

“How’s your new friend Leslie?”

Oh, I got it. Payback time. I would have to give information if I wanted to receive it. No wonder grapevines were so tough to cut. “She’s fine. She’s having a sex change operation next month.” There—that would get her, and I didn’t feel like I was talking out of school. Leslie had been quite upfront about it.

Celeste rose and looked down her nose at me. “I know.”

____


Celeste stopped traffic on her way back across the street, too. This time I wished the oncoming car might have at least given her a nudge and soiled her perfectly creased pants.

I hadn’t given her the satisfaction of asking how she already knew Leslie Flynn was having a sex change operation. Perhaps she just surmised after her brush with Leslie’s big Willie. Or maybe Leslie had been in to Talbots to buy more clothes and shared the information as casually as she had shared it with Ray and me the other day. Or, better yet, maybe Celeste’s sister’s best friend’s brother’s wife’s child from her first marriage was slated to be the Flynn’s new bookkeeper. Whatever. It didn’t matter.

I was more annoyed with my new brother-in-law Maury. He hadn’t listened when I told him to wait to get Erica flowers. Flowers must be some kind of compulsion with him. Once again, I wondered if he’d ever sought therapy.

I dialed Ray’s phone number to fill him in on Erica and Maury.

“Hey, Darlin’. How’s Erica?”

“Married.” I read him the clergyman’s name and the names of the two witnesses.

“Did you look them up in the phone book?”

“Not yet. Hold on.” I pulled it out and thumbed through the pages. “They’re not local, but Maury said they honeymooned in Niagara Falls. He and Erica could have stopped anywhere between here and there to get married.”

“Didn’t your parents honeymoon there?”

“Yes. That’s what makes me think they really got married. Like mother, like daughter.”

“So where’s Maury now?”

“I’m not sure. I left him at his apartment, but he apparently went out and bought Erica a dish garden to be delivered to the psych center. I have it from a very reliable source that the card read, ‘Like our love, this will grow forever.’”

“I thought he was a rose man.”

“With the occasional dish garden. It sounded very nice. An African violet, white gerberas, prayer plants, and some other God-like plant.”

“An African violet?”

“Yes.”

“What are white gerberas?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure how to spell it.”

“What’s a prayer plant look like?”

“I don’t know. Hold on.” I pulled up Google and typed the words on the search line. A few clicks later, a picture of a flowerless, broad-leafed plant with pink veins appeared. I described it to Ray.

“Do you know where he bought it?”

“No, but I can call Celeste and ask if you want. She did say it was in a handmade wooden planter shaped like a wishing well.”

“A wishing well?” Ray sounded excited.

“Yes. Why?”

“Give me the number at the store. I’ll call her myself.”

I flipped through the phone book again and gave him the number at Talbots. “Why are you interested in this dish garden, Ray?”

“Because it sounds exactly like the one I saw sitting on Josie … I mean, Jessica James’ kitchen table in the apartment where she was killed.”

My fingers clenched the edge of my desk. “Are you saying Maury might have killed her?”

“That’s what I’m going to check out. Don’t hold dinner.”

I hung up the phone and rocked back in my chair. What would I tell Erica if Maury turned out to be a killer? She hadn’t discussed him with me in years, but I had to wonder if this time she had truly fallen for him. She’d been engaged on and off a half dozen times at least, always to undesirable men, always spur of the moment, often during one of her manic states. All those engagements had run out of gas almost as fast as they had begun. When she sunk into depression, had she finally joined forces with the most undesirable man of all? If that were the case, I wondered how it would affect her. Could Dr. Albert put a spin on a disaster of this proportion that would make her feel better? Or would Erica’s kind heart and bad judgment cause her to love Maury anyway? If Maury turned out to be a killer, would Ray and I be driving both Erica and Danny to weekly prisoner visits in the future like one big happy family?

I’m sure Ray would love being related to a convicted killer.

The good news was Danny’s father couldn’t be a killer if Maury was. The bad news was, either way, Danny or Erica would be hurt. It was like the age-old question, if you could only save one of your children, which one would you pick? I wanted both my “children” to be happy. I crossed my fingers that Ray wouldn’t find a connection to Maury.

Then I wondered if the partial print on the Camry’s remote had been matched to Danny’s father. If it did match, he would remain the prime suspect in Jessica James’ death, linked to the car in which her arm was found, to The Cat’s Meow where Danny’s father visited her, and to her Cadillac Escalade that he obviously stole. Not to mention the fact that they were related. Pretty substantial evidence compared to a dish garden.

I rocked in my chair and stared out the window of the showroom. I watched as the sun disappeared and gray clouds moved in, signaling a significant change in the weather. When the first snowflake fell a few minutes before closing time, I shook off my thoughts and fears and walked into the garage.

Cory had the hood off Brennan Rowe’s race car. The car’s engine sat on an engine stand. Cory stood in the center of the empty front end, fiddling with the wiring. Danny leaned over the right fender, handing Cory whatever tool he requested. Neither one noticed my arrival.

“It’s five o’clock guys. Let’s call it a day, okay?”

Cory nodded and dropped to the ground to slide out from under the grill. Danny’s face reflected his disappointment.

I put my hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Did you do any schoolwork today?”

“It’s all done. I just have to study for my tests. I can do that Sunday.”

“Okay. Cory, do you want to join us for dinner tonight? Ray’s working late.”

He whisked plastic gloves off his hands, removed shoe covers, and wiggled out of his mechanic’s coveralls to reveal khakis and a dark blue dress shirt. “No thanks, Jo. Brennan and I have a date.”

For a second, I thought Danny winced. But then, his expression reverted to neutral.

I continued to try to set a good example for him. “Great. Have fun. I’ll lock up.”

Cory slid his coat on. “Thanks for all your help today, Danny.” He turned to me. “I think Danny would make a great mechanic, but he says his dad wants him to go to college and become a doctor or something more professional.”

“He could be both.”

“Good point.” Cory clapped Danny on the shoulder. “See ya tomorrow, Danny. Thanks for your help today.”

Danny followed me around the garage and showroom as I shut off the lights and checked door locks.

I pulled my coat off the brass rack behind my office door and shrugged it on. “It started to snow. Where’s your coat?”

“I didn’t wear one.”

“It’s December. You better remember to take one from now on, no matter how warm outside it is.”

Danny nodded.

I walked over to the alarm box. “I’m going to punch in the code then we have two minutes to get out.”

He watched with interest as I activated the alarm.

“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 passed 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 footballs 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.