So This Is Love

chapter Nine

"I finally tracked you down," Jon said, anger in his voice. He shot Max a sharp look. "Who's this?"

"This is Max Harrison," Emma answered. "He's an inspector with the SFPD. We're working on a case together."

With her explanation, Jon immediately dismissed Max, turning back to Emma. "I need to speak to you."

"We have nothing left to say."

Jon looked back at Max. "Do you mind? This is a private conversation."

"You're the one who interrupted a private conversation," Max said. "You heard Emma. She has nothing to say, so move along."

While Emma appreciated the defense, she was also annoyed by it. She could take care of herself.

"We're done, Jon. I'm going on with my life, and you need to do the same," she said.

"How can you turn your back on everything we had? We were going to get married."

"You never actually asked me to marry you," she reminded him.

"It was understood."

"A lot of things were understood," she said. "Fidelity for one. You cheated on me, and no matter how many times you say you're sorry, it won't change what happened."

"You're a cold bitch."

At Jon's harsh words, Max said, "That's enough." He took a step forward, but Emma caught his arm.

"I've got this," she told Max. "If that's what you think of me, Jon, then why are you here?"

Jon blew out a breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Can't you see that all we do is hurt each other?"

"It wasn't always this way." His expression went from angry to pleading. "I know I messed up. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

"No, that's not true," she said, shaking her head. "I wasn't right for you, and you weren't right for me. We didn't work, and you know that. I don't understand why you're suddenly acting like this, but it has to stop. We have to say goodbye and wish each other well."

Jon stared back at her, as if he couldn't believe the finality of her words. "Emma…"

"Goodbye Jon." She turned and walked down the street, hoping Jon wouldn't follow her. When she got to the corner, only Max was by her side. She glanced over her shoulder. Jon was gone.

"Where are you parked?" she asked.

"Right over there."

"Let's take your car."

"You must be shaken up if you're willing to let me drive," he said, as they crossed the street.

"I'm okay. I'm sorry you had to be a part of that."

"What did you see in that guy?"

She gave him a weak smile. "He has some good qualities. I can't remember what they are right now."

"Do you think he's going to accept your goodbye?"

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't. It's not like he's short on dates. He's got plenty of women who would love to be Mrs. Jon Wickmore the third."

"That title is way too pretentious for you." He paused. "If he contacts you again, Emma, let me know."

"Why?"

"He could be dangerous."

"He's not dangerous, Max. He's just obstinate. You don't need to worry about it."

"I've seen this kind of thing go down more than once, and annoying can turn to dangerous."

"Are you referring to your brother's case?"

He looked surprised by the question. "Actually, I wasn't, but now that you mention it, there are some similarities."

"It's completely different, and don't forget I have five brothers. I'm a tough girl and a cold bitch, according to Jon. I can handle myself. Trust me."

Max opened the door of the gray sedan he drove on the job, and she slipped into the front seat. As they headed toward St. Andrew's, she told herself that Max's worry was misplaced. She knew Jon. He was acting like a spoiled child who'd had his favorite toy taken away. He'd get over it. Jon was not dangerous.

Max was overreacting. She could understand it, because in his job he saw the worst in people. In her job, that was also sometimes true. But she still liked to believe that deep down most people were more good than bad.

* * *

"It looks like they're getting the classrooms back in shape," Emma commented as Max parked in front of the kindergarten playground.

"That was fast," Max remarked, his gaze narrowing at the sight of a familiar figure coming out of the classroom with a paint tray and a roller in his hand. "Isn't that your friend from the bar?"

"Tony," she said, surprise in her voice. "I wonder what he's doing here."

"Looks like he's painting. Is that his job?"

"Sometimes. Tony has a lot of jobs. He bartends, does labor for my Uncle Kevin's construction firm, paints, and coaches a kids' soccer team. He doesn't like the nine-to-five life."

"Is he another one of your ex-boyfriends?" he asked, feeling jealous at the thought.

Emma waved a dismissive hand. "Don't be silly. Tony is like a brother to me."

"He didn't act that way at the bar the other night."

"He flirts, because it's in his DNA; he's not serious."

"After seeing you with Jon and this guy, I'm beginning to think your intelligence does not extend to the men in your life."

She straightened in her seat and shot him a dark look. "What does that mean?"

"You underestimate how much men want you. Jon—Tony…"

"You?" she finished.

His gut clenched. "I wasn't going there," he said quickly.

"And yet we're there, Max." She let those words sit, then added, "And you're making assumptions based on very little information. I know Jon and Tony. You don't."

"Just sharing an observation."

"Next time, wait to be asked."

He decided his best answer was no answer, so he got out of the car.

As Emma stepped on to the sidewalk, Tony saw her and came over to the fence, a big grin on his face.

"Emma, what are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question."

"Joey McCarthy needed some help painting the classrooms, so I took the job. He wants to get the kids back in as soon as possible. They're all doubled up right now."

"It's good you had some time."

"It's good he needed more help. I could use the money. The football season is killing me. My teams keep going down, Emma."

"Then maybe you should stop betting," she retorted.

"I tell myself that every time I lose, but then I win, and I get all excited. But it's not that big of a deal. Just fifty bucks here and there. I don’t want you to think I'm a gambler or anything."

"I've known you most of my life, Tony. I already knew you were a gambler."

"And a great guy," he said with a charming smile. "A guy you still owe dinner. I'm waiting for your call."

"I'm a little busy right now."

Tony's expression turned serious. "I couldn't believe it when I woke up yesterday and saw that Brady's was completely destroyed. We were just there that night."

"What time did you leave?" Max asked, interjecting himself into the conversation since Emma seemed more interested in chatting up Tony. He flashed his badge. "I'm Max Harrison with the SFPD."

"Tony Moretti. I saw you at the bar. You two were together." Tony glanced at Emma. "Is he your new—"

"No," she said quickly. "He's not anything. We're working together on the arson investigation."

"And the homicide," Max added.

Tony shook his head in bewilderment. "That was another shock. I mean, Sister Margaret? Who would want to kill a nun? This city is going crazy."

"Did you know Sister Margaret?" Max asked.

"Too well," Tony said. "She was always calling me out for something, but she wasn't so bad. Sometimes I could make her laugh. I used to bet the other kids that I could get a smile out of her. I won more times than not."

"Did you take that challenge on in detention?" Emma asked. "Aiden said you and Jarod and him spent a lot of time there after school."

Tony nodded, a sheepish grin on his face. "That's true. And sometimes Aiden was the ringleader. Don't let him tell you he was following Jarod and me. He had his own ideas."

"Trust me, I know," Emma said. "And Aiden would be the first to admit that." She glanced over at Max, then back at Tony. "When we were kids, do you remember someone setting fire to the dumpster?"

Tony licked his lips, his expression not quite so open now, Max thought.

"Yeah, I remember that," Tony said. "That was the highlight of my eighth grade year. I was sitting in the classroom right next to the dumpster. We were taking a math test, and all of a sudden one of the girls started yelling, Fire! We spent the rest of the afternoon on the playground watching the firefighters."

As Tony talked about the fire, his energy level increased. Max couldn't help wondering if the guy wouldn't have enjoyed watching Brady's burn to the ground even more than watching a small fire smolder in a dumpster.

"Do you know who set that fire?" Max asked.

"I'm pretty sure it was Christian Brady. He was always fascinated by fire. That's why he went into firefighting. Whoa," Tony said suddenly, as he put two thoughts together. "That's weird. Brady set a fire. Now Brady's bar burns down. Spooky."

Max wondered if Tony's dumb-as-a-rock act was real or just a great pretense.

"Do you think Christian burned down his dad's place?" Tony asked.

Emma shook her head. "There's no evidence that would suggest that."

"Yeah, you're right. He works there, so why would he want to burn down his own bar? Doesn't make sense."

Tired of the conversation, Max said, "I'm going to speak to Mrs. Harbough. Are you coming, Emma?"

"Of course," she said.

"Don't forget that dinner you owe me, Emma."

"I'm sure you'll remind me, Tony."

"So you didn't have a thing with that guy before, but now you're going to dinner with him?" Max couldn't help asking as they walked down the sidewalk toward the front of the school.

"I owe him dinner because he helped me move out of Jon's apartment."

"And you still think he doesn't like you?"

"Does it matter? For someone who wants to keep things professional, you're awfully interested in my personal life."

"Your personal life seems to be showing up everywhere we go."

"I'm popular. What can I say? I'm sure if we were in Los Angeles, we'd be running into your old girlfriends and maybe a few wannabes."

"Well, we're not in L.A., so you don't have to worry about that."

"Is there a serious ex-girlfriend in your life, Max?"

"No."

"What about a not-so-serious ex-girlfriend?"

"No."

She gave him an irritated look. "There you go with the man of mystery act again. Can't you ever give more than a one word answer?"

"Yes." He laughed at her disgruntled expression. "But right now we have an interview to do. Can we stay on task?"

"Absolutely."

He held open the front door, relieved that he didn't have time to get into his past with Emma. She was already way too involved in his present. "After you."

* * *

Walking back into her old elementary school, Emma felt a wave of memories. Inside the front door were two glass cases filled with trophies, plaques and other awards, some of which she'd helped the school to win, and along the main hallway were class photographs dating back fifty years. There was a lot of history in this school, and she was reminded of how close a fire had come to destroying everything inside, not just damaging two classrooms.

She'd talked to the principal, Gloria Monty, right after the fire at St. Andrew's, and had also interviewed staff members. Max had done interviews with the same people in regards to Sister Margaret. But neither one of them had come up with any leads as a result of those conversations. "I hope this visit doesn't turn out to be as pointless as my last one," she muttered.

Max nodded. "Yeah, I haven't been in the principal's office this much since I was a kid."

"I can't really picture you getting into trouble. You seem very controlled and thoughtful about your actions."

"I had my moments of rebellion."

"I doubt there were many."

He conceded her point with a nod. "I couldn’t afford to bring any more drama into my house. My mom was an angry, unhappy mess before the divorce and pretty much the same after. For most of my childhood, she was the drama. When I was at school, I wanted to be normal, boring." He paused. "How's that for a more-than-one-word answer?"

"Better." Max didn't drop many clues about himself, but the few she'd gathered did help her understand him better. She was beginning to realize why he exercised so much control over every aspect of his life. It was a result of his chaotic childhood and the way he'd learned to control his environment and stay sane. Still, she thought it must be exhausting to never let loose. She had a feeling all those feelings and emotions inside of him were going to explode one day.

"Here we are," he said, pausing outside the door to the office. "I have to admit Mrs. Harbough and I don't have much rapport. She's a stern, stoic woman, and I've only seen her vulnerable twice, once when she realized Margaret was gone, and yesterday when I came by here to tell her she was dead."

"She always scared the crap out of me," Emma said. "But she knows more about this school than anyone, so let's do it."

Max opened the door and she stepped into the office. Mrs. Harbough sat behind the counter and was working on her computer. In the office behind her, through a half-open door, Emma could see the principal having a meeting with a teacher.

Ruth Harbough didn't look happy to see them. She stopped what she was doing and got to her feet. "Inspector Harrison. Inspector Callaway. What can I do for you?"

It felt strange to be called Inspector Callaway by a woman who'd known her since she was five years old. On the other hand, Emma appreciated the respect.

"We need to ask you a few more questions," Max said. "Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

"This will have to do. I can't leave my desk right now, and classes will be out in five minutes. Have you made any progress in the investigation?"

"Some," he said. "Did Sister Margaret have any ties to Lake Tahoe? Did she go there to visit friends? Was it one of your vacation spots?"

Ruth looked taken aback by the questions. "Lake Tahoe? We used to go up there in the summers. We were there last August for a few days."

"Do you have a place up there?"

"No. One of the parents let us use their cabin."

"Who was that?" Emma interjected, her pulse speeding up.

Ruth stared back at them for a moment, as if trying to figure out the reason for their question and then said, "Carol Parkins."

"Do you know if the Parkins lent their house to other families in the school?" Max asked.

"All the time. They donate a week in the auction every year, and they allow friends to stay there. But Margaret did not go to Lake Tahoe without telling anyone," Ruth said firmly. "If she was there, it was against her will. She was a dedicated teacher. She wouldn't leave her class without a substitute." Ruth's mouth began to tremble. "I can't believe she's dead, that someone killed her and left her body to burn in a fire in a bar. She didn't even drink. She wouldn't have wanted to die there." Ruth started shaking her head. "It's just terrible."

"You should sit down," Emma said quickly, walking around the counter to help Ruth back into her chair. She was shocked to see such a strong woman look suddenly so fragile. Maybe there was another side to Ruth Harbough, too. "We're very sorry about Sister Margaret, and we are going to do everything we can to find out who killed her."

Ruth blinked back tears. "Thank you." She drew in a breath for strength. "Margaret wouldn't want me to fall apart. She was a very strong woman. I think about who took her, and I have to believe that for the time she was alive, she made their life very difficult."

Emma gave her a compassionate smile. "I think you're right." She paused. "Does the school record detention attendance and are those records kept for a long period of time?"

"We don't have detention any more. That disappeared about ten years ago," Mrs. Harbough said. "At one time we did keep those records, but they're long gone."

"What about vandalism or fires here at the school?" Emma asked.

"There have been a few incidents over the years, nothing recently."

"Would you mind checking back through your records and giving me the names of any individuals who were involved?"

"I can do that. It may take me awhile. The last ten years are in the computer, but before that records were kept in cardboard boxes and most of those are stored in the basement of the church."

"I'm particularly interested in anything involving fire," Emma said.

"May I ask why you're looking so far back into the past?"

The bell rang, and Emma was saved from a long answer. "We're just checking everything we can think of," she said.

Mrs. Harbough rose. "I have to deal with the children now."

"When is the funeral for Sister Margaret?" Emma asked.

"Saturday at eleven," Ruth replied. "There will be a rosary on Friday night."

The office door opened, and several kids entered. The sight of those blue plaid uniforms took Emma right back to childhood. "I can't believe they're still wearing the same uniforms as I did," she said to Max as they left the office.

"Feeling nostalgic?" he asked with a smile.

"It was a simpler time," she admitted. "There was nothing but possibilities ahead. Now, not so many."

Surprise flashed in his eyes. "Cynicism from you? No way."

"What? I can be cynical."

"No, I don't think so. You have an innate sense of optimism."

"You don't know me very well."

He smiled. "I know that you don't like to be categorized."

"Well, that's true," she admitted.

"Why would you take optimism as an insult?"

"Because it makes me sound like I don't see reality, and I do."

"That wasn't what I meant." His steps slowed and then he stopped walking. He gazed into her eyes. "The job takes me to some really dark places. I forget that not everyone has taken the same trip."

"My job sometimes goes down that same nasty road." She paused and smiled. "But you're right. I am generally optimistic, and I do tend to see the good in people, which can be a detriment. I guess that's why I got defensive."

She pushed open the door to the school and they stepped outside. There was a cluster of parents waiting on the sidewalk for their kids, and Emma saw a lot of eyes turn in their direction. Rumors had to be running rampant at the school today, and she imagined a lot of nerves were on edge with Sister Margaret's death. She couldn't imagine how she would have reacted when she was a child if one of her teachers had suddenly died under suspicious circumstances.

As they walked toward the car, she saw Tony now standing by the white van parked directly behind Max's sedan. He gave them a nod. "How did it go? Did you find out anything?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"I've been thinking about who might not like Sister Margaret," Tony said. And it suddenly came to me—Mrs. Harbough."

"Why would you say that?" She glanced at Max but saw nothing but disdain in his eyes. He was obviously not going to take anything Tony had to say seriously. "Mrs. Harbough is quite distraught over Sister Margaret's death. They were roommates."

"Well, I heard they were more than roommates," Tony said with a gleam in his eyes.

"Do you have any facts to support that?" Max asked sharply.

"No, but the rumor has been going around town for a while. I thought I should mention it."

"Thanks, Tony," she said quickly, sensing that she needed to put some distance between Tony and Max. "We'll look into that angle."

Max rolled his eyes and walked over to the car.

"That old broad in there has some secrets," Tony said to Emma before she left. "I know I'm not as smart as you are, Emma, but I spent a lot of time in the office waiting to see the principal and I heard some very interesting conversations between Mrs. Harbough and other people."

"That was a long time ago, Tony."

"People don't change."

"I'll talk to you later. And I won't forget about dinner," she said cutting him off before he could remind her. "As soon as I get this case wrapped up."

Max was waiting for her in the car. As she fastened her seatbelt, she saw Max looking in the rearview mirror at the van parked behind them.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Just wondering how many chemicals or accelerants might be in the back of that van."

"Now you want to make Tony the arsonist?" she asked. "He's painting the classroom. And that's not even his van. It belongs to his boss."

"There's something about that guy I don't like. He's too…"

"Handsome? Sexy?" she offered.

He shot her a dark look. "Seriously? You like that type?"

"Most women see Tony that way. He has quite a reputation in the neighborhood."

Max shook his head. "I don't get it."

She could see why Max didn't get Tony's charm, because Max was a more serious kind of guy, and she didn't think Tony had been serious a day in his life. "I know you'd like to discredit anything Tony has to say, but what do you think of his suggestion that Sister Margaret and Ruth Harbough were lovers?"

"I asked Mrs. Harbough that question when Margaret first disappeared."

"Are you kidding me?" she asked in astonishment. "I cannot believe you got that question out of your mouth."

"I had to consider the possibility there had been some sort of domestic quarrel. Mrs. Harbough told me that they were platonic friends, and that she was horrified I would ask the question. She said both she and Margaret were extremely religious women and that type of relationship would go against everything they believed in. She was very disappointed in me for assuming that two women couldn't share an apartment as friends."

"It would seem unlikely that they'd be anything else," Emma said. "Mrs. Harbough was married at some point."

"While she was in her early twenties. I checked. She has a son, Jeffrey, who went to live with his father when he was twelve years old."

"That's weird," she said. "How old is the son now? I wonder why I've never heard of him."

"He's thirty-four now."

"So five years older than me," she murmured. "Maybe I wasn't paying attention, but I don't remember ever seeing him around the school."

"He spent most of his time with his father in San Jose."

"You did do your research," she said. "I'm impressed."

"Did you think I'd been sitting on my hands the last ten days?"

"Hard to say since you rarely share what you've been doing," she retorted.

"At any rate, Mrs. Harbough is way down on my list of suspects," he said.

"I didn't realize we had a list of suspects," she said dryly. "But just for the purpose of discussion, why are you ruling her out?"

"Because Margaret's death is tied to the fires, and I don't see Mrs. Harbough as our arsonist. Do you?"

"I can't say definitively no, but she doesn't fit the profile. And she's a small woman. Margaret had at least fifty pounds on her. I don't know how Ruth could have kidnapped her, hidden her away or left her body at the bar. Although, she could have had help, so I can't rule her out. And even though she said she isn't a lesbian, how could we prove it?" She groaned and pressed her fingers to her temples. "My head is starting to hurt."

"I know what you mean. I've been going around the same circles for days."

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her purse.

"Ex-boyfriend again?" Max asked.

"No, it's a realtor friend of mine. I've been trying to get in to see an apartment the last few days, and she said it's available now if I can get there in the next twenty minutes." She glanced over at Max. "How do you feel about a side trip to the Marina?"

"Why are you looking at an apartment?"

"Since I broke up with Jon, I've been living with my parents, and I need to move on."

"Gotcha."

"If I go all the way back to work and get my car, I probably won't make it in time." She gave him a pleading smile.

"Fine, I'll take you."

"I'll owe you one."

He grinned. "And I will collect."