Running on Empty Page 6

  'I never imagined he'd go for it.' AnnaLise was torn between horror and elation. The obvious horror was having to work with one of the most despised men in any valley. But, a gig that, at minimum, would pay twice her annual salary? Which she could do while still making her annual salary?

  Wow.

  And, as a bonus, if Hart truly had an interesting story, AnnaLise knew she really was a gifted enough writer to...

  'Why, you self-important asshole.'

  'That's a little harsh, isn't it?' AnnaLise said to Joy. 'I just responded to what—'

  'I was talking to Dickens. Or at least his back.' Joy gestured toward Hart, who was nearly out of sight. 'The big shot can pay that kind of money to massage his ego — which, by the way, is the biggest part of him. But I ask for space to open a spa and a measly one-bedroom condo to live in above it and what does he say?'

  AnnaLise and Daisy just looked at her.

  'I'll tell you what he said. No. Flat out. Under the circumstances, he should be on his knees thanking me for trying to inject some life into this place.'

  'You expected him to just give the properties to you?' AnnaLise asked. Whatever Joy thought of the memoir fee, at least AnnaLise was willing to work for it.

  'Well, yeah.' Joy glared at her. 'What's wrong with that?'

  AnnaLise raised her hands palms out. 'Nothing. Nothing at all.'

  'You bet your ass there isn't. That man stole my youth!' She stomped away.

  'Weren't they married only... about a year?' Daisy finally managed.

  'Apparently, Joy's was a very short youth.' AnnaLise cocked her head and looked at her mother. 'So did I just make an awful mistake with Dickens?'

  'Probably. But it's an awful, well-paying mistake.' Daisy grinned. 'And who knows? Maybe you can turn it into a best-seller.'

  'I doubt that, but I'll know better after I go through his notes and journals. Maybe beginning tomorrow.'

  Now Joy came stomping back. 'And another—'

  'Hello!'

  Startled, AnnaLise, Daisy, and even Joy looked around for the source of the new voice.

  'You see up.'

  AnnaLise did. Ichiro Katou was waving from the second-story window she'd seen close. Apparently, it was even quieter going up.

  'Hello, Ichiro. Have you met my friend, Joy Tamarack?'

  The limits of his window-frame confined him to a half-bow. 'A pleasure. I did not mean to overdrop your earlier conversation.'

  'It's either "overhear" or "eavesdrop",' AnnaLise said, trying to be helpful.

  'Thank you,' accompanied by another little bow. 'It is good to know the correct way for me to say these things.'

  'Sure, sure,' Joy said before AnnaLise could respond, 'but you don't need to apologize for listening.'

  'Thank you,' Katou said again and hesitated. 'You mind I ask a question?'

  'Shoot.'

  The Japanese man looked nonplussed for a moment and then seemed to understand the idiom. 'Oh, yes, I see. "Shoot", as in go forward.'

  Joy nodded encouragingly. She, like Sheree and AnnaLise herself, seemed charmed by him.

  'You say to Mr. Hart that the water rises.' He spread his hands wide. 'Is it safe here? Must I leave the island?'

  AnnaLise looked at Daisy. 'Is the lake level up?'

  'No,' her mother said, wrinkling her brow. 'In fact, it was an unusually dry August. We've been worried about fires, not floods.'

  'No, no, no,' Joy said, turning red. 'Ichiro, you misunderstood. I didn't say "flooded". I said "underwater".'

  'Underwater?' AnnaLise echoed. 'As in, owing more than a property is worth? But Ichiro doesn't own the condo.'

  She tipped her face up to where he was now hanging out the window. 'You rent from Dr. Stanton, right?'

  'You are correct,' Katou said. 'You are saying I do not worry?'

  'Not about drowning,' Joy muttered. She seemed to regret having opened her mouth at all. She appealed to her friends on the ground. 'You two have to keep quiet about this.'

  'What's the big secret?' AnnaLise asked. 'A lot of people bought when housing prices were high and now that values have dropped, they're stuck. It's not something to be ashamed of.'

  'Besides,' Daisy said. 'Tucker and his father, certainly, don't seem to have anything to worry about.'

  AnnaLise thought she saw something cross Joy's expression. 'But it wouldn't be just the Stantons, would it? All of Hart's Landing could be in jeopardy.' Along with — easy come, easy go — AnnaLise's 'memoir' contract.

  'Pfft.' Joy must have read her mind. 'Dickens Hart will always land on his feet. Just press him on your book deal and get the money upfront.'

  'I'll do that,' AnnaLise said, though it might be like insisting the devil sign on the dotted line for your soul. 'But back to you: your spa idea could be a real boon to the development. I assume that's the project you have "in the works"?'

  'Yup,' Joy said.

  'Well, don't worry,' Daisy said. 'You'll think of something.'

  'Oh, believe me.' Joy squared her shoulders. 'I haven't given up.'

  'Good for you,' Daisy said, slapping Joy on the back as the prospective spa-owner turned to leave. Again.

  'Hello,' Katou said again from on high.

  'I think you mean goodbye,' AnnaLise said. 'Joy's leaving.'

  'No.' He pointed. 'I speak to him.'

  Sure enough, a new arrival. Bobby Bradenham was passing Joy on the sidewalk from the parking lot.

  'I thought I heard your car go by our house,' Bobby said to AnnaLise when he reached them. 'You better get that muffler fixed. Especially with out-of-state plates.'

  Sutherton's police department was notorious for ticketing. It, along with tourism, had provided an important stream of income for the town over the years.

  'The municipal coffers down?' AnnaLise asked.

  'You'd be surprised how much law enforcement, when properly motivated, can bring in.' He looked around the group. 'What's everybody doing here? We only need Mama for a quorum.'

  'And your mama,' AnnaLise said. 'Assuming we want to re-create the restaurant scenario from this morning.'

  'I dropped Ma off at Hotel Lux to get a mani-pedi.'

  'Your mom is primping for Frat Pack Night?' AnnaLise knew better, but she loved Bobby's imitations of his mother.

  'Please.' Theatrically, he threw out his hand, palm-up. 'I despise crowds, as you well know. If I want to enjoy the lake, I will do so from the comfort and privacy of my own lovely deck, not some noisy hole-in-the-wall.'

  'Does your mother ever use a contraction?' AnnaLise asked, curious.

  Bobby's hand had migrated to the imaginary strand of pearls. 'Why ever would one use a single word where two will do? And apostrophes — ' a denigrating flap of the hand — 'so common, no?'

  'Your mother,' Katou said, looking puzzled. 'AnnaLise asks if she hires someone?'

  'Hires someone?' Bobby repeated, looking at AnnaLise.

  'Oh,' she said, understanding. 'Contraction, root word contract. Leading to contractor, perhaps. Very good reasoning, Ichiro. However, a contraction is—'

  But Bobby cut her off, presumably having heard enough of AnnaLise's lectures in the past. 'I was just saying that my mother will be staying home tonight.'

  'Your mother does not enjoy... the company?' Katou asked.

  'Only her own,' Daisy said under her breath as she moved into the shade thrown by the building.

  'That's not entirely true,' Bobby said, with a grin. 'She tolerates me at times.'

  'And me, as well,' Katou said. 'Tomorrow for the lunch. I look forward to seeing your home and learning of your family.'

  'Ma will be "delighted" to show you the place,' Bobby said, 'but don't expect any family sagas. Ma's so evasive, I've always wondered whether I'm adopted.'

  'You, me and every kid who doesn't look like their surviving parent,' AnnaLise said, glad Mama wasn't around to put her two cents worth in about Bobby's paternity.

  'I think that's why I was always fascinated by the subject of her
edity in school. I even tried to blood-type myself once. I thought Ma was going to hit the ceiling when she caught me with a knife and two lenses I'd taken out of her reading glasses to make a slide.'

  'Now you scrape.' Katou disappeared from the window and returned with something that looked like a oversized cotton swab.

  AnnaLise's eyes widened and Bobby laughed. 'Ichiro and I are taking part in a worldwide genome project. It uses DNA, which is the reason for the giant Q-tip.'

  He gestured toward the door of Katou's building. 'Want to see?'

  AnnaLise glanced over at Daisy, who was hovering none too patiently. 'I think not. We both have plans for tonight, and I need to iron something to wear.'

  'To Sal's?' Bobby asked. 'You might want to add a couple wrinkles and maybe a mustard stain. Help you fit in.'

  A buzzer sounded and with a wave, Bobby entered the building. AnnaLise stepped back to say goodbye to Katou, but he was gone, too, presumably having been the one to buzz Bobby into the building.

  That left just AnnaLise and Daisy on the quiet sidewalk. 'This place really is a ghost town.'

  But Daisy didn't seem to be interested in Hart's Landing. 'Should they be messing around with DNA?'

  'They're not exactly creating a monster, Dr. Frankenstein,' AnnaLise said as she led the way back to the car. 'I did some research for an article about National Geographic's genographic project. They're trying to collect hundreds of thousands of DNA samples from people around the world in order to trace human migration. I think it would be fascinating to find out where the ancestors in your lineage were a thousand years ago and how they got... well, here.'

  'And paternity?' Daisy asked.

  AnnaLise shrugged. 'I don't know which program Ichiro is involved with, but from what I've read, lineage tests are much more general than paternity tests. They might show that your parents came from European descent, for example, but not provide specifics. Once you had the DNA, though, I'm guessing you could test for whatever you wanted.'

  'Wouldn't you need samples from both father and child?' Daisy stood waiting while AnnaLise climbed into the car and leaned over to unlock the door.

  'As I understand it.' AnnaLise put the key in the ignition as Daisy slipped into the passenger seat. 'But remember I was doing an article on the genographic project, not paternity testing.' She looked sideways at her mother and grinned. 'A little information, in the wrong hands, can be a dangerous thing.'

  'Amen to that.'

  Chapter Eight

  Seven thirty and Frat Pack Night was already in full swing.

  'I'm so sorry,' AnnaLise said, sliding into a seat opposite Bobby. 'My watch—'

  'Was still on central time,' Bobby said, signaling Sal's bartender to draw AnnaLise the local brew — a Pisgah Porter. 'Don't worry, I figured you'd be late.'

  Fine reputation to have, re-cultivated after less than twelve hours back in your own hometown.

  A sliver of sunlight slanted across Bobby's face and continued its travels around the room. AnnaLise glanced over her shoulder to see Sheree Pepper, Sutherton's favorite innkeeper, slip through the door. Since sunset wouldn't be for another twenty minutes, it was still bright on the beach outside. Inside, more like another world.

  The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the red-plastic mesh-covered candle holder centered on each table and a klieg spot directed at the stage. There, Sal Goldstein, brown hair slicked back and showing a lot more scalp than AnnaLise's last visit, crooned Mack the Knife into the microphone.

  AnnaLise had once made the mistake of suggesting the tune was made famous by Bobby Darin and gotten an earful.

  'You telling me Frank Sinatra never sang that song? Huh? You telling me that?'

  Nope. Not me. Forget I ever said anything.

  On a stool next to the bar-owner sat an opened laptop computer so he could control his own playlist. A digital version of the old one-man band, sans cymbals strapped between knees or tambourines tied to limbs.

  Sheree took the third of four chairs at the round table. 'So, where's your friend?'

  Bobby and AnnaLise exchanged looks as she stood to pick up her beer from the bartender. 'You field this one,' she told him. Then: 'Sheree?'

  'Cabernet. Something with a cork, if that's remotely possible.'

  AnnaLise didn't bother to point out the folly of ordering wine in a place like Sal's. Sheree already knew better.

  Behind her, AnnaLise heard Bobby ask Sheree, 'By friend, do you mean Ichiro?'

  AnnaLise told the barman Sheree's unwisely optimistic request and turned, back to bar, to watch Bobby and Sheree.

  'Of course I'm talking about Ichiro.' Sheree was looking around like she'd find the man hiding under a table. 'Where is he?'

  Bobby shrugged. 'He'll be here about ten. Why?'

  Sheree, of the push-up bra and pushed-down neckline, said, 'No reason.'

  AnnaLise snickered as she returned with her mug and slid a tiny bottle of wine like they serve on planes to Sheree. 'What's wrong, one guy's not enough? Which reminds me, where is your "tenant"?'

  Sheree grinned. 'One, much like once, is never enough, AnnaLise. You should have learned that by now.'

  AnnaLise reflexively glanced at her purse, where a cellphone with two missed calls and three texts from Ben was buried. 'Sometimes, one can be too many.'

  Especially when that 'one' wouldn't take 'it's over' for an answer.

  The eye movement wasn't lost on Sheree. 'Honey, do we need to talk?'

  'Later. Maybe.' AnnaLise lifted her mug. 'But tonight, dear friends, a toast. To Frat Pack Night.'

  'To Frat Pack Night,' Bobby echoed, raising his glass.

  'Hold up.' Sheree removed the clear, plastic glass which had been upended over the neck of the bottle and checked the label. 'Cab/Merlot blend. Indeterminate vintage.'

  She clinked the bottle itself against first AnnaLise's and then Bobby's brews. 'To impertinent little wines.'

  'And impertinent little friends,' Bobby said with a grin.

  'I'll drink to that,' Sheree took a swig from the bottle and then poured the rest into her plastic cup. 'So why's Ichiro going to be so late?'

  They both looked at her.

  'What? I just hate for him to miss the show.'

  'He'll catch an hour,' Bobby said. 'That's probably more than enough for anybody's initiation to Frat Pack Night.'

  'An hour? Are you saying Sal stops at eleven now?' AnnaLise said, taking an appreciative sip of her rich North Carolina brew. 'Since when?'

  'The place has closed at eleven for a couple of years now,' Bobby said over the lyrics '... line forms, on the right dear...'

  'Sal tries to get home for Leno,' Sheree said, tugging at her top.

  'Unlike Daisy,' AnnaLise said. 'She's going to Torch tonight and told me not to wait up. You'd think my mother's getting younger and I'm getting older.'

  'Pretty soon the two of you will cross.' Sheree waved at someone in the crowd. 'There's Chuck.'

  'Oh, good,' AnnaLise said, turning to beckon him to their table. 'He said he needed to talk with me about something.'

  The police chief put up his index finger in a 'just a second' signal while he finished a conversation. AnnaLise turned back to her companions.

  They didn't say anything. Just looked at her.

  'What?' she asked.

  'Nothing,' Sheree said. 'But... how long has it been since you and Chuck spoke?'

  'Quite a while, I'm afraid. I saw him this morning on the beach and we exchanged voicemails after Daisy's — ' she looked at Bobby — 'and Mrs. B's accident, but we haven't really talked in ages.'

  'In addition to refusing to change your watch to the time zone you're in,' Bobby said, 'you're lousy at keeping in touch.'

  'I know.' AnnaLise felt herself flush. Truth was, she'd been so immersed in her Wisconsin life that she'd let her relationship with childhood friends slide. Daisy and Mama provided the Sutherton version of CNN Headline News, but when it came to protracted conversations... 'I'd see a mess
age and think, I'll call back when I have the time to truly reconnect, but...'

  'There's never that kind of time,' Sheree said. 'And then, eventually, we just forget.'

  'Putting us all in the same boat.' Bobby leaned across the table toward them. 'So did you hear it was Rance Smoaks they found on the beach this morning?'

  'Good riddance,' Sheree said.

  'Ahh, we must be talking about Rance.' Chuck had finished up and sunk into the chair between Bobby and AnnaLise and across the round table from Sheree. 'I hate to say it, but the only person who's broken up on that issue is Kathleen.'

  'And she's the one who should be most grateful,' Sheree said.

  AnnaLise, mindful of Chuck as police chief, added, 'Not that she is.'

  'Grateful to the shooter, you mean?' Chuck asked.

  'No, no... I just—'

  'Stop torturing her,' Sheree said. 'We all know Rance was a tool. And a dull one at that.'

  'True.' The door opened and Chuck glanced up, his eyes following the newcomer.

  AnnaLise twisted to see James Duende. With the nodded permission of the couple at the next table, AnnaLise snagged one of their chairs.

  Oblivious, Sheree set down her wine. 'Whoever's that for?' gesturing at the chair.

  'Your "one".'

  'Jim?' Rubbernecking now. 'Where is he?'

  'Right over... where'd he go?' AnnaLise looked around, but Duende had disappeared.

  'The guy who just came in?' Chuck said. 'Dark wavy hair, olive complexion, military physique?'

  'Good eye,' AnnaLise said, turning back. 'I wish I was as naturally observant as you are. I have to make myself study people and places, and then take notes.'

  'It's a gift,' said Chuck. 'In my line of work—'

  'Work, schmurk,' Sheree interrupted. 'You think he's hot.'

  'But straight,' Chuck said.

  'Straight?' AnnaLise stopped and looked at her long-ago boyfriend. 'Chuck?'

  He scrunched up his eyes and then stared back. 'Yes, Lise?'

  'You're... gay?'

  'Got it right the first time, Annie,' Bobby said.

  If you didn't count the nearly two decades AnnaLise and Chuck had been friends. And more.

  'Sorry,' Chuck said, covering her hand with this.