Wilde Lake(88)

She removes his hand. “I have to go. It’s Friday. Teensy doesn’t like to stay late on Fridays.”



The highway is clogged despite the fact that the holiday weekend should be in full swing, everyone released from their obligations yesterday. Some of Lu’s people tried to find a way to take Thursday off as well, but she put her foot down. Weekend creep has to end somewhere. She passes the exit to Columbia, continuing north another twenty miles. Teensy’s not even working today. The twins are with their babysitter, Melissa, who is happy for a few extra hours.

Lu says grimly to her phone, via the dashboard: “Find funeral homes, Locust Point, Baltimore, MD.” It takes a while, with the phone offering almost comic alternatives, but she is finally connected to Charles L. Stevens Funeral Home.

“Hi, I’m calling about the funeral costs for Rudy Drysdale, whose wake and burial you arranged back in April. I’m his cousin and the family never received the invoice. Could you tell me if it was sent and what address you used?”

Sure enough, the bill went to the very address toward which she is speeding.



“Lu,” AJ says, opening his door to her, the center one. Door number 2, as Lu thinks of it. The other two doors are nonfunctional, one bright blue, the other bright red, their street addresses still visible, all part of AJ’s attempt to disguise his wealth. His attempt to disguise who he really is.

He’s not surprised to see her on his doorstep, unannounced. She wishes he were.

“Is Lauranne here?” she asks.

“She’s teaching a hot yoga class at Charm City’s Midtown location,” he says. “She’ll be home about six or so.” Then: “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

She doesn’t and doubts that he will want her to, in the end. But all she says is: “If things aren’t too crazy at home. Melissa’s with the kids.”

“I’m sure, Dad can—”

“AJ, why did you lie to me about not knowing Rudy Drysdale?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He walks to the kitchen, Lu on his heels; he gets a bottle of wine from his retro refrigerator, a bulbous thing in orange, the kind of appliance that looks cheekily affordable, but costs a lot.

“I brought five bottles of this back from Italy,” he says. “I wish I could have imported cases of it. Costs maybe six dollars a bottle and it’s just the perfect summer wine. Want a glass?”

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll bring the rest tomorrow, for the party. Have to fight these hoarding instincts.” He is in no hurry to have this conversation. He pours himself a glass of wine, fixes a plate with slices of cured meats and cheeses, despite Lu’s assurances that she’s not hungry. “Smuggled all this in. Don’t tell Dad. You know he’s a stickler. I guess I shouldn’t tell you, either, officer of the court.”

“Not my jurisdiction,” Lu says. “However, Rudy Drysdale was.”

“Let’s sit by the pool,” he says. “It’s nice in the shade.”

“Nice” is a bit of a reach, but it’s pleasant enough. AJ really does have a green thumb and the U-shaped courtyard is full of containers. Mostly plants and herbs, but there are some pots of impatiens.

“How much have you figured out?” he asks.

“Enough,” Lu lies. Everyone knows the old canard that an attorney never asks a question to which she doesn’t know the answer, but that’s for court, after investigations, depositions, discovery. Right now, Lu doesn’t have the luxury of knowing the answers. She has to bluff.

“But not everything,” AJ surmises. “You can’t. No one can. Only Rudy, and he’s dead.”

“You knew him in high school. You can’t have forgotten him. Davey remembers him. Even Bash remembers him. He’s the kid you were trying to protect, at the cast party. For months, he hung around you, tried to get in with your crowd. That’s not someone you’d forget. Why would you lie about that?”

“He’s a disturbed individual, Lu. I didn’t want to be linked to him.”

“Davey didn’t have a problem admitting he knew him.”

“Good for Davey.”

“Of course, Davey didn’t pay his funeral expenses.” She decides to risk a guess. “Or his legal bills.”

AJ nods. “You’re a good investigator, Lu. The Drysdales don’t even know who helped them out. I used an intermediary.”

“Bash?”

“No, why would you think that? I mean, once a bag man, always a bag man, but I didn’t want him involved. He had as much to lose as anyone, I guess, but I couldn’t trust him either. And no one had more to lose than Rudy. It was his idea, he acted on his own, no one knew he would do anything like that. I wanted no part of it. Settle down, I told Rudy. It’s just talk. No one’s going to listen to her. No one’s looking for you. But then Davey had to go and pay her. Worst thing you can do with a blackmailer. For one thing, it only convinced her that she was right, after all these years. Why would Davey pay her if he didn’t rape her? Forget the statute of limitations—who wants to deal with this kind of scandal in midlife, when you’ve finally got things figured out. Who wants to be accountable for his seventeen-year-old self? Even Bash couldn’t afford to have something like this being batted around. It’s one of the few times I’ve been glad Noel is dead. He was spared this stupidity, at least.”