Too Close to Home

“There’s a lot of people in this town who’d be happy to stick something in it,” I said. “Pretty much everybody on the city payroll that you’ve accused of not doing their jobs, and most recently, a houseful of unwed mothers.”

Finley waved his hand. “Oh that,” he said. “Just a little misunderstanding. That never would have happened if you’d been working for me. You’d have never let me go in there and make a goddamn fool of myself.”

“What else does Lance let you do that he shouldn’t?” I asked.

Finley grinned nervously. “Nothing,” he said. “He’s actually not that bad. I just have to make sure he doesn’t set me up on any bad blind dates, if you get my meaning.” He flashed me a grin.

“I’m going to go see how my family is,” I said, then turned my back on the mayor and walked away.

He shouted after me, loud enough for others to hear, “Will do, Jim! Anything you need, you let me know.”

As I passed Barry he said to me, “The nose thing? No jury would ever have convicted you.”

I found Ellen and Derek sitting at the kitchen table. He had his head in his hands and she was turned toward him, reaching out and touching him tentatively.

“It’s a shock, I know,” Ellen said softly as I came into the room and stood just inside the doorway. Derek shook his head, not looking up, not taking his hands away. “We’re all in shock. And it’s not going to make any sense, not until we know why it happened. And it may not make any sense after that, either.”

Ellen turned toward me, gave me a hopeless look. I noticed there was half a glass of white wine in a tall-stemmed glass on the counter. She caught me looking at it.

I went over to my son and rested my hands on his shoulders, not sure what words at this time could make things any better. He took his hands away from his face and, without turning to look at me, dragged one of my hands down around his neck, pulling me down close to him. Ellen moved closer, and we both held on to our son while he continued to weep.

FIVE

The police were in and out of the house so much that afternoon, Ellen made coffee for those who wanted it on such a hot day, and iced tea for those looking for something cold. I noticed Ellen offered wine to no one, and had finished off her glass and put it in the dishwasher before playing hostess. I wasn’t sure whether Barry Duckworth and the other cops kept coming inside because they thought there was something we’d forgotten to mention, or they just wanted to get into the airconditioning.

Derek finally settled down and retreated to his room, where he alternated between fiddling with his computers and lying facedown on his bed. He seemed very tired, as though he’d had next to no sleep the night before.

When it appeared we were going to get a break from questioning, Ellen poured us each some iced tea, which we took out onto our back deck. It’s well shaded out there, and there’s usually at least a trace of a breeze.

We sat down in our wooden Adirondack chairs-what I still thought of as Muskoka chairs from when my parents would head up to a cottage in that region of Ontario every summer-and didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Ellen took a sip of her tea and said, “You think he’s going to be okay?”

“Eventually,” I said. “How many kids lose a best friend that way?”

“I’ve always felt so safe here,” she said. “Never again.”

I let those two words hang out there for a while before I spoke. “What happened at the Langleys’ doesn’t have to mean we’re any less safe than we’ve ever been.”

Ellen glanced over at me. “What do you mean?”

“What happened there, there’s no reason it has to have anything to do with us.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She pointed. “It happened right there.”

“What I’m saying is,” I said, “things like that don’t happen for no reason at all. And whatever that reason was, it’s got nothing to do with us.”

“Unless it was some crazy psycho picking people at random,” Ellen said.

“Even then,” I said.

Ellen shook her head, dismissing me. “I don’t get you. Is this you trying to put the best possible spin on a situation?”

“Bear with me for a second,” I said. “Let’s go through the various scenarios. Like murder-suicide.”

“The police didn’t say anything about it being a murder-suicide.”

“I know. I’m just saying, if that’s what it was. If it was a murder-suicide, it’s this self-contained tragedy. Horrible, yes, but it doesn’t impact on our safety one way or another.”

“Okay,” she said, so far unconvinced.