All the Dark Places(13)
I decide to get in the shower, not that I care so much about what I look like, but to warm up. Although the heat is on in the apartment, I’m freezing cold. I grab some clean clothes out of my suitcase and head down the hall. The smell of coffee hits me, and my throat closes up. Will it always remind me of Jay?
I run the water until steam fills the room and step under the spray. I wash slowly, using Corrine’s expensive shampoo and soap until the heady scent of lavender and sage fills my nostrils, drowning out the coffee. Reluctantly, I finish, turn off the water, and get dressed.
Corrine convinced our parents to go home last night. She’d had enough of them and knew I needed some quiet. She’s in the kitchen with Rich, eating sliced cantaloupe and yogurt. I didn’t hear him come home this morning. He’s like Corrine’s twin, both blond, although his hair has run to gray. They work out, eat healthfully, are well-dressed and cosmopolitan. He rises and gives me a hug.
“How are you holding up?” he asks in a whisper, as though we’re in church.
“I’m okay.” My voice is raw, throaty.
“Have some breakfast,” Corrine offers.
“In a little bit,” I say, bypass the coffee machine and put the kettle on.
“I’m working from home today,” Corrine says.
“You don’t need to do that. I’m fine here.”
Corrine rinses her bowl and places it in the dishwasher. “Nonsense. I’m not leaving you here alone. I work from home at least once a week these days anyway.”
“She does,” Rich adds as if I don’t believe his wife.
I take my tea into the living room and stand in front of the window, watching the boats in the harbor. The sun’s out, and what’s left of the snow seems to have disappeared except for slush along the curbs.
I need to call my boss, Hayes Branch. He might have heard about Jay on the news by now. He’ll be frantic to get in touch, and since I don’t have my phone, he won’t be able to reach me.
When I graduated from college with my English degree, I got a job writing for a small travel magazine. For four years, I scraped by, sharing an apartment with a pharmacy student whom I rarely saw. When the magazine folded, I got a job as an editor for an academic publishing house but was barely making enough to cover my bills, so I got a part-time job at Graybridge Books. Located on the square in a historic brick building, the bookstore has a cozy charm, and I’d spent many hours there when I was young. It was my favorite place and working there was like a balm to my soul, so when the publisher cut staff, and Hayes hired me full-time, I was happy, if not making a lot of money.
Owned by heiress Phyllis Branch, the store benefits from her devotion to the written word and her deep pockets. Among her many interests, Phyllis sees herself as a romance writer, and we proudly display her six self-published tomes on our shelves. Her son, Hayes, manages the store, and he and I have become friends over the years.
I borrow Corrine’s phone again and walk into the kitchen. Corrine is in her office now, and I hear her clicking at her computer.
I tap in Hayes’s number.
“Molly? Thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you. I heard about Jay.” He draws a deep breath, and I picture him pushing his hipster glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I was so shocked. And so sorry.” His voice breaks. He was friends with Jay too and only missed the party because of a previous commitment. “How are you?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing really, Hayes. But it’s nice to hear your voice.”
“I just can’t believe it. Have the police found who did it?”
“Not yet. They have no idea. Who would want to hurt Jay? I just can’t figure it out.” I start to cry.
“Do you want me to come over?”
“I’m at Corrine’s. But I should be able to go home soon, I hope. I’ll call you.”
He takes a deep breath. “It’ll be okay, Molly. We’re here for you.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, and blow my nose.
Hayes clears his throat. “When is the service? Alice and I will be there, of course.”
The service? Right. I’ll have to do something about a funeral. Jesus. Is this my life? “Nothing’s planned yet, but I’ll let you know.”
“Alice was very upset when I told her,” Hayes whispers. I picture his eleven-year-old daughter sitting in the shop’s window seat, reading her annotated Little Women book, crying over Beth March’s death. She’s very sensitive. Knowing her father’s friend was murdered would be greatly disturbing to her.
“She’s sweet, but tell her I’m okay and I’ll see you both soon.”
“Will do, Molly. Please let us know what we can do to help.”
We hang up, and I place the phone on the granite countertop. I probably should try to eat something, so I peruse the fridge, but find nothing that appeals to me. So I pace the apartment instead. I need to get out of here for a while. But where can I go to avoid thinking of Jay? Nowhere.
CHAPTER 10
Rita
THE TACKLER BUILDING SITS IN DOWNTOWN GRAYBRIDGE, TWO BLOCKS off the square. It houses a pediatric practice, a law office, a couple of nondescript businesses, and Graybridge Family Therapy. There’s a small but comfy waiting room that’s empty at the moment and a counter where a young woman with sleek brown hair sits. She’s on the phone and has a smooth, practiced, sympathetic voice. Her dark eyes shoot up to acknowledge me as I walk up to the counter.