Walter stops chewing.
“I mean, I knew. But I didn’t know. Not really.” Frustration surges through me. “No wonder I can’t figure out who killed Lydia. I’m too stupid to even notice what’s happening under my own roof.” I don’t realize I’ve grown loud until Sidekick noses at my knee, trying to bury himself under my legs. “Sorry, boy. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Piper, you can’t blame yourself for not being able to figure out what happened to Lydia. Even the police don’t know, and they’re professionals.”
“But she was my best friend. And she was here right before it happened—I should be able to see the answer, and I just can’t.” The tears come with such a rush, it’s as if a faucet has been cranked on. “Everything has been such a mess since I lost her. And it’s like when she died, anything soft and kind in me died too.”
Walter presses his clean handkerchief into my hands. “Pippy, that’s not true at all. You’re all heart. Just look at this dog who can’t get enough of you.”
“That’s because I feed him.”
“No, it’s because you care for him. That’s how you are. When you love someone, you’re fiercely loyal. That’s why you’ll get through this thing with your father. You love him.”
“But how do love and loyalty factor in when I think he’s just plain wrong? I mean, he doesn’t just work with them. He works for them. They were at his wedding, for heaven’s sake!”
Sidekick whimpers as he trembles against me.
“I don’t know,” Walter says. “But I know you’ll figure out a way. With your father and Mariano.”
I scratch behind Sidekick’s ear. I don’t want to think about Mariano. “When does your train leave?”
“Tomorrow. Early.”
“You’ll be glad to go.” The words make me feel achingly alone. Father off with his bride. Walter going back to California, to Audrey. And I’ll stay here. Stuck.
“I won’t be glad to leave you and Mother. I’m never happy about that.” Walter regards me for a long moment. “What will you do about Mariano?”
I break a cracker in half. Then into quarters. “Nick said he’s a crooked cop.”
“What did Mariano say?”
“What else would he say? Of course he denied it.” I shove away the memory of Mariano’s hurt face.
“If he really were crooked, don’t you think your father would have stopped you from seeing him?”
“Then why would Nick have said it?”
Walter snorts. “Because Nick is unhappy. And when Nick is unhappy, he tries to drag everyone else down in the muck. Especially you. He did the same thing when your mother died.”
Sidekick licks the cracker from my hand. “Mariano had a chance to tell me about his family, and he didn’t.”
“Then I would ask him about it.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said he was embarrassed.”
“And do you believe him?”
“I don’t know.” I think about saying more, releasing the jumble of words clogging up my brain. Instead, I just say again, “I don’t know.”
But I think I do believe Mariano. Does that make me stupid and na?ve?
The thing is, if I’m being honest, I probably would have lied too in Mariano’s situation. I think what really has me bothered is how this doesn’t coincide with who I’d built Mariano up to be—a “what you see is what you get” kind of guy. I didn’t want Mariano to come with baggage of his own, like an ex-fiancé or undesirable family.
An ex-fiancé, I can ignore.
This new facet of him, however, is too big to ignore. But is it too big for me to accept?
Nick stumbles through the front door, startling me awake. His laughter has a cruel edge to it. “Well, there she is. The star of the show.”
I stretch my aching muscles. How long have I been sleeping in Father’s chair? “And how was your evening, Nick?”
He responds with a glare.
“Did you and Alana have a nice time out?”
More glaring.
I fumble for my bookmark and close This Side of Paradise. “My evening wasn’t great either, if it makes you feel any better.”
Nick chucks his hat toward the coat rack and seems unaware that it falls to the floor. “It helps, yes.”
I should’ve taken my book up to my room to read. When he’s been drinking, Nick is downright intolerable. “I’m sensing you’re mad at me.”
He barks a laugh. “Because of your terrible behavior at the wedding, I had to hear about you all night.” He pitches his voice high and mocking. “Do you think Piper’s okay? Should we go home? Do you think she’d want to talk to me about it?”
I frown. “Who was saying this?”
“Alana.” He fumbles in his coat pockets. “I swear, sometimes it’s like she’s two different people. Here I’m trying to get somewhere with her, and she wouldn’t stop talking about you. She’s obsessed.”