I looked at Mel’s empty pillow. “I think we’ll take a pass on that,” I said.
“And then we’re going to go on playing tourist,” he said. “The Arboretum, Snoqualmie Falls, the aquarium. Care to join us for any of that?”
If I ever go back to Snoqualmie Falls, the place where Anne Corley died, it will be way too soon. “No,” I said. “I’m working on a case. I should probably spend some time on that, but a man’s got to eat. What are your plans for dinner?”
“Don’t really have any,” Scott said, sounding a bit abashed. “We’ve pretty much blown our budget.”
I remembered what it was like to be young and broke and wanting to impress your new wife but worrying about whether or not you’d be able to pay next month’s bills if you did so. Thanks to Anne Corley, my financial situation had taken an amazing turn for the better since those tough old days.
“Dinner’s on me, then,” I said. “What sounds good?”
“Steak?” Scott asked hopefully.
“We’ll go to El Gaucho, then,” I said. “They have some of the best steaks in town, and it’s only a couple of blocks from here. Say around seven or so. I’ll call for a reservation.”
“What happened to Kelly and Jeremy?” Scott asked. “I called to invite them to breakfast. The guy at the front desk said they’d checked out.”
“I guess Kelly wanted to go home.”
“She was acting weird,” Scott said. “Even for Kelly. I mean, if this is all because of Mel, it’s ridiculous. You do get to live your own life, don’t you?”
My sentiments exactly, I thought, although looking at Mel’s empty pillow made me wonder if her presence in my life was still an issue.
“Seems like I should,” I said.
“See you this evening,” Scott returned. “Where’s the restaurant, by the way?”
“Just come to the house,” I said. “We can walk from here.”
Missing Mel, I rolled out of bed and went out into the kitchen to make my own coffee. Then, while the coffee brewed, I called Nick down at El Gaucho. Mel and I go there enough that I have the number programmed into my cell phone. No one answered that early on a Saturday morning, but I left my name and a message. I brought in the newspapers from the front door, but I didn’t bother opening them. For some reason I didn’t feel up to working a crossword puzzle.
Instead, I sat in my recliner, sipping coffee and brooding. Finally I threw caution to the winds and dialed Mel’s cell.
Much to my surprise, she answered. “I’m not speaking to you, remember?”
This seemed like an egregious overreaction to whatever I had or hadn’t done, so I decided to ignore it. “If you were speaking to me,” I countered, “what would you say?”
“‘Those women’!” she said, repeating my ill-chosen words with an inflection I recognized all too well. “How did I get hooked up with ‘those women’?”
“Mel, look. I’m sorry. I’m sure I was out of line, but you’re not seeing this from my point of view. I spent dinner stuck next to that dreadful professor, who really does hate men, by the way, and listening to all of those awful stories. It seemed like every story and every single one of the women there said pretty much the same thing—that whatever had happened to them was all my fault. That I was somehow responsible. I’ll bet even Anita Bowdin’s husband…”
“Calvin Lowman,” Mel supplied. “And he’s not her husband.”
“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll bet even he was squirming in his seat. Every man there was probably doing the same thing.”
“Is there a purpose to this call?” Mel asked.
Her crisp tone would have deflected even the most determined of life insurance salesmen. “I invited Scott and Cherisse to dinner at El Gaucho tonight at seven,” I said hurriedly. “I was hoping you’d come, too.”
“What about Kelly and Jeremy?”
“They went home,” I said. “To Ashland.”
There was a pause. “I’ll think about it,” Mel said. “But don’t hold your breath. And there is a reason,” she added.
“I’m sorry?”
“A reason I’m involved with ‘those women.’ A reason I’m on the board. I just don’t like to talk about it, but maybe I’ll tell you sometime. If I start speaking to you again, that is.”