I've Got My Eyes on You(52)

Koenig ended the meeting by saying, “I know we’re all doing our utmost to solve this case. We just have to take the heat that comes with it.”





66




It had been two and a half weeks since Kerry’s death. A sad sense of finality was settling in. Aline made an effort to be home most nights by six-thirty. She wanted to be there to have a glass of wine with her mother. She believed that their chats brightened Fran’s spirits. But tonight when she came in, it was obvious that her mother was having a very dark day. Her eyes were swollen. She was sitting in the living room sifting through a family photo album.

When Fran saw her come in, she looked up but left the book open. “Do you remember how Kerry broke her ankle when she was eleven? I kept warning and warning her. She was a good ice skater. But she couldn’t do those twirls the way she wanted to. But she always kept on trying.”

“I remember,” Aline said. “I was never any good at ice skating.”

“No, you weren’t,” her mother agreed. “You were always the great student. Kerry was the great athlete.”

“I think it’s time for a glass of wine,” Aline suggested as she lifted the photo album off her mother’s lap.

Fran closed her eyes. “I guess so,” she said indifferently.

Aline went to the kitchen and called out, “Something smells really delicious in here.”

“It’s veal parmigiana. I thought it would taste good for a change.”

Aline did not have to be reminded that veal parmigiana had been Kerry’s favorite. She came back with the two glasses of wine and turned on several more lights. “Brighten the corner where you are,” she said.

“I’m surprised you know that song. It’s an old gospel favorite.”

“Mom, I don’t know the song. I do know that every time you turn on a light, you say that.”

Fran smiled a real smile. “I guess I do.” Then she added, “Aline, I don’t know what your father and I would have done if you had stayed in London.”

“I would have come straight home.”

“I know you would have. Now let’s change the subject. How was school today?”

“I told you how all the seniors are fixated on which colleges to apply to. When it comes to writing the essays, some of them have a natural ability. They can effortlessly tell a story. For others, every word on the page is a struggle.”

The sound of the front door opening announced Steve’s arrival. He walked into the living room, looked at their glasses of wine and said, “I guess it’s five o’clock somewhere in the world.”

He leaned over and put his arms around Fran. “How are you doing?”

“Today was rough. I was out running errands and drove past the high school. The girls’ soccer team was practicing. It got me thinking.”

“I know. I make it a point to not drive past the high school. Is there any wine left, or did you two drink it all?”

“I’ll get you one, Dad,” Aline said.

When Aline was in the kitchen, the doorbell rang.

“Are we expecting anyone?” Steve asked as he got up.

“No,” Fran told him.

As Aline walked back into the living room with her father’s glass of wine, Steve came into the room with Scott Kimball at his side. What is he doing here? Aline asked herself.

“Hi, Scott. This is a surprise. You’ve obviously met my father. This is my mother, Fran. Mom, this is Scott Kimball.”

“I know who he is,” Fran said. “Scott was Kerry’s lacrosse coach.”

“Scott, anything to drink?” Steve asked.

“I’ll join you folks in a white wine, if that’s okay.”

“Take that one,” Steve said, pointing to the glass in Aline’s hand. “I’ll get myself another.”

“Do sit down,” Fran said.

And why not take your shoes off? Aline thought.

“So Scott,” Aline asked, “what brings you over?”

“Aline, I tried to phone you. I guess your phone was off. This afternoon a friend of mine called me. He’s heartbroken. He has two tickets for Hamilton tomorrow night, but he has to leave in the morning on a business emergency and gave them to me. I was hoping you might be free.”

“Oh, Aline, how wonderful,” Fran said. “Your father and I have been dying to see that show.”

Aline wondered if there was any way she could persuade Scott to give the tickets to her parents. She hesitated, trying to find a way to say no.

Fran answered for her. “Oh, Aline, of course you’ll go. Everyone raves about that show.”

Steve said, “Scott, that is so nice of you.”

Aline really did want to see Hamilton. She just didn’t like the idea of spending a third evening with Scott Kimball. She really resented the fact that he had just walked in. Before she could answer, her mother said, “Scott, do you like veal parmigiana?”

“I love veal parmigiana, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“Anyone who comes bearing two tickets to Hamilton certainly is not intruding,” Steve said heartily. “Right, Aline?”

There was nothing she could do but say, “Of course not.”

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