All the Dark Places(76)
I lean against the counter and let go a disgusted breath. “So she wasn’t destroyed by you dumping her. Go figure.”
“Okay, I deserve your attitude. I get it. But just ease up. I’ll do the right thing. Just give me a goddamn minute.”
I don’t dignify this with a response. “Who else is coming?”
“The usual, plus her parents and my sister. That’s all probably.”
“Okay, Josh. But if she doesn’t know by next weekend . . .” I shake my finger at him.
He stands, nods. “Loud and clear, Molly. I’ll see you around.” There’s a glint in his eye that sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ve gone from friends to enemies in the course of a week’s time.
CHAPTER 58
Rita
WHEN I PULL UP IN FRONT OF MY BUILDING, I SEE COLLIN SITTING on the stoop, smoking a cigarette. He said he was quitting for the new year, but it didn’t last. Hard to, I guess, when André is a smoker with no plans to give it up. Collin stubs his cigarette out quickly when he sees me coming up the walkway, as if I would scold him. I don’t want him smoking, of course, since it’s bad for his health, but he’s a grown man, young, but grown, and I understand that we all have our little weaknesses. We all find ways to survive.
I remember Ma and Dad when Ricky died in Vietnam. The extended family descended like locusts, and the house was full of the smells of brewing coffee and the sounds of whispered conversations. The bottle of whiskey Dad kept on a high shelf in a kitchen cupboard was quickly emptied, and one relative or another would slip out to the liquor store for reinforcements. The first couple of weeks went by in a blur, with a houseful of people shedding tears, laughing even, as they talked about Ricky. But then after the funeral, it was as though a dark blanket covered everything. The house was deadly quiet, the relatives gone. We all went back to school. My sisters made excuses to stay out late, part-time jobs, friends’ houses. But Danny, Jimmy, and I were too young for that, so we sat in their room and played Battleship for some reason, over and over again, until we were tired and cranky. My brothers would end up in a fight, wrestling on the floor, but at least fighting kept our minds off Ricky at least for a little while.
What we didn’t know in the weeks after Ricky died was that another tragedy was on the horizon. Another blow to the McMahon family, one that waited like a greedy beast not content with one brother. In the spring, Jimmy started to feel tired all the time, and after a trip to old Dr. Doyle, nothing would be the same.
“Hey, Rita.” Collin jumps up and holds the door for me. “How was work?”
“Fine. Busy.”
He follows me into the foyer. “You want to come in?” I ask.
“Yeah. I guess. For a minute.”
“So what’s new?” I drop my satchel on the couch and shrug out of my jacket. “Haven’t seen you around for a couple days.”
“Yeah. I’ve been busy at the café, and we’ve got a couple big catering jobs this weekend, so we’ve been slammed.” He moves a stack of newspapers and deposits himself in the armchair in the living room.
I lean over and unlace my boots. “You want something to drink?”
“Only if you do.”
I slip my feet into my slippers, pad into the kitchen, and pour us each a glass of red.
“How is your case going?” he asks as I hand him his wine.
“Slow.” I sigh. With Joe here, I’d hoped to get a solve quickly, but the lack of DNA and other clues is dragging things out.
“That’s too bad. I feel sorry for Mrs. Bradley.” He sets his glass on the end table and leans forward. “I saw a story about her on the news. Did you guys know who she was?”
“Not until recently. She’s been keeping a low profile.”
Collin shudders. “It’s horrible what happened to her. Now this.”
“Yeah. Trouble just seems to follow some people.” It makes me uncomfortable to talk about Mrs. Bradley. Knowing her background just makes me feel more pressure to catch her husband’s killer quickly. She’s been through enough. “So what have you been doing besides work?” I ask.
Collin’s gaze shifts to the door and back. “Mrs. Antonelli had me down to make gnocchi.”
“Right. How did that go?”
“Awkward.”
“Why’s that?”
“She invited her granddaughter. A nurse from New York who just moved to town. I guess her longtime boyfriend dumped her.”
“Oooh.”
“Yeah. She was really sweet, though. I complimented her shoes. She was wearing these really cute Christian Louboutin pumps. Later, she cornered me in the hall and said, ‘Sorry about my nonnie. She’s clueless.’ ”
I smile. Collin’s sensitive and yearning, it seems to me. Like most of us, I guess. I worry about him and André sometimes. While Collin is twenty-nine, André is in his mid-thirties, born in Paris to an American mother, an actress who pops up occasionally in old made-for-TV movies. André’s traveled the world, speaks three languages, and is constantly on the go. Sometimes in the warm weather, I open my kitchen window, and I smell André’s cigarette, hear him on the fire escape talking on his phone, switching from French to English to Spanish on the turn of a dime. He’s a nice man, but there’s a certain carelessness about him, and I can’t help but worry that Collin’s going to be hurt someday.