Three Dog Island Page 18

  “Sounds kinda familiar but not really.”

  “It’s come to mean downfall or defeat.”

  “That makes sense. Where is this place?”

  “In Belgium as I recall. But there are others now. There’s actually an island not far from here called Waterloo Island.” I was about to suggest that we go over there for fun and check in with the chamber to see how it had gotten its name, but remembered in time that we didn’t have the luxury of taking field trips. Any research would have to be done online. “I think there’s one in Oregon and one in Ontario, Canada as well. And that’s about the extent of my knowledge on the subject, so I fear you’ll be on your own.”

  “That’s okay. I like to study. But you could review my papers to be sure they’re okay. My grammar and stuff.”

  “That I can do.” Not that he needed much help with that. His love for reading had paid off. But this home schooling was not for slackers. Considering his tumultuous upbringing, it surprised me that he took his studies so seriously. He assured me that it was his grandfather’s influence. “You make your own opportunities,” he used to tell him. He must have told Josh’s sister the same thing. I looked forward to meeting them both.

  I had considered stopping in Olympia on our way back from Portland to see his grandfather and to assure him that Josh was okay, but I was concerned that Mark Simpson had someone watching the rest home to see if Josh showed up there. I wasn’t taking any more chances.

  He closed his history book and followed me into the living room.

  “Great cup of coffee,” I told him. My appetite had diminished and I had scarcely touched the tomato omelet he’d put in front of me. I suspected that too had to do with MacGregor.

  “You’re not eating much.” He’d noticed.

  “Not very hungry this morning,” I said, forcing down a couple more bites.

  He smiled. Did he know? His smile widened. He definitely knew. “I have heard people lose their appetite when they fall in love,” he teased.

  Feeling a blush crawl up my cheeks, I scowled at him. My cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. “Hi, Charlie.”

  “Expecting someone else?”

  “No, why?”

  “You sounded disappointed.”

  “Never disappointed to talk to you.”

  “He had an early meeting this morning. Didn’t want to wake you.”

  “So you’ve talked to him.”

  “Aye, and I’ve seen him.”

  “And?”

  “And there’s a distinct gleam in the lad’s eyes.”

  Those words would last me a whole day. Maybe a lifetime.

  “The reason I called is— I reread the report on Simpson’s partner’s death. Can’t find any red flags so to speak.”

  “Okay. I guess we’ll just have to wait to hear from Manny for any leads.”

  “Aye, but I would like you to take a look at the report. You might sense something that I’m missing.”

  “As usual you’re giving me too much credit, Charlie.”

  “Och, none you don’t deserve, lassie.”

  Before I hung up, the telltale grin still on my face, I asked him to pop in on Jerry Bridges to see what he could find out—as discreetly as possible.

  “You think that’s a good idea?” Josh asked.

  “Charlie will know how to handle it. And we can trust Jerry. We go back a long time. He was one of Charlie’s students.”

  “Charlie’s still teaching, right?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Do you think he’ll quit soon?”

  “Charlie? He won’t quit until the University boots him out. Why?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, nothing.”

  It wasn’t nothing. He wanted to take a class from Charlie.

  “What were you and Charlie talking about?”

  I told him about the police report on Mark’s partner’s shooting.

  “Wow! How did Charlie get that?” So Josh did know about the shooting.

  “Oh, he has his ways. Charlie used to be a criminal investigation detective with the police.”

  Josh looked duly impressed but I could see the wheels turning. “But why would you need—?” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think Bob’s shooting has something to do with this? With me?”

  “Not necessarily. We just figured it was worth checking out. Mark has an immaculate record. We’re looking for any blemishes.”

  “But he was the hero—at least that’s what everyone was saying. He took a bullet trying to save Bob’s life.”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “I’ve no idea what to believe. Why didn’t you tell us about the shooting, Josh?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t think it had anything to do with whatever it is they’re doing?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t really thinking about it. I kind of pushed it out of my mind, I guess.”

  I went over to the CD player and put on some soothing harp music. Conversations involving shootings, drugs, and death always made me tense.

  When I sat back down on the couch, I asked him about when his step father had first come into their lives and when Mark Simpson had first started coming around. It turned out Mark wasn’t the only one. His partner Bob hung out at their house as well.

  “What was Bob like?”

  “Okay. Nicer than Mark, for sure.”

  “Nicer?”

  “Not as phony. Not throwing his badge around like Mark.” His voice had tightened and I told him to take a deep breath.

  “He was nice,” Josh whispered as his body relaxed again. “He treated my mom nice too.”

  “Did he and Mark get along?”

  “Yeah, sure. They were partners.”

  “Do you think he was involved in whatever it is they’re involved in?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” He was quiet for a long time. I didn’t speak in hopes that a feeling or a memory would surface. It finally did. “Yeah, I think he was involved. Mostly it was just the two of them. Mark and Al. But sometimes the three of them would sit in the kitchen and talk real quiet. ”

  “About?”

  “I couldn’t hear them. Except now and then when they didn’t really say anything important. At least it didn’t sound important.” He scrunched up his forehead as though that would help him remember. “They did talk about the station a sometimes so I’m pretty sure Bob was involved.”

  “Do you remember what they said?”

  He took a couple breaths. “Not really. Something about inventory? Maybe. I’m not sure. Most of the time they talked in normal voices though. Mostly about sound systems and televisions and stuff. I think maybe one of them was thinking about buying some stuff.”

  Or unloading the “stuff” they’d stolen. “Do you know how Bob died?”

  His hands tightened into fists. “He was shot in the line of duty. He and Mark were on a bust, looking for stolen stuff, I think.”

  “That’s what it said in the newspaper. Did you hear anything else? Did Al and Mark ever talk about it?”

  “Yeah. It was pretty bad. Scary. Mark got hit too. Blood all over his shoulder.”

  So that part was true. “You saw it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you see the shooting?”

  “No.”

  “Was it close to your house?”

  “Not far. Half mile away maybe. Close.”

  “You’re sure you saw Mark’s wound?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “At your house?”

  “No. Outside. At that other house.” He closed his eyes to get a clear picture. One thing was apparent to me. He had been shocked enough by what he had seen to block out a clear memory of it.

  “I remember. The blood. Bob’s body lying there on the ground. In the driveway.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  He shook his head. “Mark called. We heard the gunshots from our house. Then Al’s c
ell rang. It was Mark. The next thing I knew, Al was leaving the house. I asked him what he was doing. He said he had to help Mark.”

  “Mark called him instead of a back-up unit?”

  Josh nodded. “I guess. No. He called them too I think, but Al was closer. Something about helping handcuff these guys. All I know is Al ran out of there, told me to stay put.”

  “Did you?”

  He shook his head, his shoulders as tight as his fists.

  “You followed Al?”

  “Yeah, on my bike.”

  “Oh, Josh.” No wonder he hadn’t told us about this before. He’d been traumatized. “That’s when you saw Bob’s body.”

  “Yeah, and the blood spurting out of Mark’s shoulder. Really gross.”

  I could imagine although I tried not to. “Did they know you were there?”

  “No way. Al had told me to stay put. I’ve learned not to disobey him and if I do, I sure as hell don’t let him know.”

  “So, you hid.”

  “Yeah. And then a couple more police cars pulled up and then it turned into a big crime scene, kinda like you see on TV. They hauled off these guys to jail and took Bob’s body away. Took Mark to the hospital. I kinda left around then. Didn’t want to see anymore. But by then there was a big crowd of neighbors and reporters and stuff. They were walking around asking who had seen what. I thought I’d better get out of there before they saw me and started asking me stuff.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Pretty much. I went home and acted like I hadn’t been there at all.”

  “Did Al ever know you were there?”

  “No. I’m a pretty good actor, pretended I was shocked when he told my mom the story.”

  “And then the article came out in the newspaper about it.”

  “Yeah, it had pictures and everything and said Mark was a hero for trying to save Bob.”

  “They must have been close if he took a bullet for him.”

  “I guess that’s what partners do, protect each other.”

  We sat quietly for a few minutes, the music helping to dissipate the tension in the room . . . and Josh’s mind.

  He was the first one to speak. “You think this thing about me has something to do with Bob’s getting shot, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what to think. We just talked about it because you mentioned him coming to the house as well as Mark.” I checked in with my intuition. “I really don’t have a feeling what it’s all about, except I know this station they talk about is involved somehow. Maybe it isn’t even something you saw. Maybe they think you heard too much about that and put two and two together. You’re sure you never gave them any suspicious looks or asked questions?”

  “No, I was real careful not to. I knew something was up. I got creeped out every time they talked about it.”

  “Well, hopefully we’ll know more about it in a couple days. One of Charlie’s men, Manny, should have some information for us.”

  My cell phone rang as though on cue. Charlie again.

  “Sorry, luv, it’s only me.”

  My father knew me a little too well. “Hi, Charlie. Did you find out anything?”

  “Aye. Josh was never posted as a runaway.”

  “I’m not surprised. How did you find out?”

  “I just had Jerry pull the lists of all runaways from the west coast and email them to me. Josh’s name wasn’t on any of them.”

  “You didn’t give him Josh’s name, right?”

  “Right, but I did mention someone named Grace might be calling him to get a message to you.”

  “Thanks, Charlie. And about that other matter?”

  “Grace’s background and what Simpson has on her?”

  “Exactly.” Josh was watching me closely. This was not something I wanted to share with him.

  “That’s next on the agenda. I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, Charlie.”

  “Let me guess,” Josh said after I’d hung up. “Mark Simpson never put my name on a list of runaways.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “So that means I was being followed by bad cops everywhere I went.”

  It also meant the chain of corrupt cops was a lot longer than I had suspected. “Let’s just concentrate on keeping you out of sight.”

  He nodded and went back to work on the computer. This was going to get old fast. I knew the perfect distraction for him, but Holly wasn’t due home for a visit until Thanksgiving. Matthew on the other hand was up for a visit most any weekend.

  I was dialing his number when my phone rang again. My innate caller ID kicked in. “Hey, MacGregor.”

  “Hey, McNair. How are you today?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Not lonely? Not missing me?”

  “Just a wee bit,” I teased. “And you?”

  “Not at all.”

  Disappointment poked at my heart. I scoffed at myself. What was I, a school girl? Apparently. But then I reminded myself, it was probably just MacGregor saying the opposite of what he meant. Not so endearing this time. I could tease him, I realized, but he didn’t dare tease me back.

  Apparently my silence was cause for concern . . . and clarification. “You know perfectly well that I’m missing you, lass. And it’s more than a wee bit.”

  “Good.”

  He laughed. I could have listened to that laugh all day long. I went outside and sat on the old porch swing while I talked to him. It was a silly conversation really, mostly about what we’d been doing since we’d last seen each other, unimportant details that only matter to someone who really cares about you. He promised to make a trip up to the island as soon as he could get away. I told him to come any weekend that Matthew didn’t. The divorce was enough of a shock for him. He didn’t need to hear about his mother’s new romance quite yet.

  But Matthew was tied up for the next weekend. He promised to come up at the end of the following week. He already knew about Rocky. I told him about Josh. I did not tell him about MacGregor.

  That evening with the soft sound of rain against the windows, I pulled out my guitar and Josh played his sax. At least it gave him a break from staring at a book or computer or television screen. I could tell he was holding back. He was still worried that someone might hear him play. I didn’t blame him. Already he had faced far more danger than anyone should have to face in a lifetime. If only I could get a fix on this case. We needed something, anything that would help us solve this and put these guys away for a very long time, hopefully without sacrificing his mother in the process. Josh deserved to live his life free from fear.

  I talked to MacGregor again right before I drifted off to sleep. I told him Matthew wasn’t coming this weekend after all. Unfortunately he was scheduled to go to Bellingham to give a lecture. I could see that this was not going to be easy. But he assured me that we would find a way around the obstacles.

  “Where did you go, McNair?”

  “Hunh?” He had caught me. I was daydreaming again, and oh what a daydream—after we had resolved the obstacles.

  “Daydreaming were you?”

  He knew that about me. How did he know that about me? “Guilty,” I said, feeling exactly that, apparently still conditioned by a twenty-year marriage.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “What?” He wanted to join me in my daydream? He wasn’t upset that I’d stopped listening and my mind had wandered?

  “Aye, lassie, I figure if something took your thoughts away from my scintillating conversation, it must be a lovely daydream.”

  I told him exactly what I’d been thinking about. I drifted off to sleep with the phone in my hand, happily sharing my dreams.

  * * *

  “Don’t you have somewhere you need to go?” Josh asked me as I dawdled around the house the next morning, doing chores, cleaning up papers, hovering over a magazine article, considering throwing a pot on my wheel.

  “Not really.”

  “Jenny, I know you’re just han
ging around because you don’t want me to get lonely or bored. Or you’re worried I’m shaken up about the attempted break-in.”

  “Are you?”

  He shrugged his trademark shrug. “I feel better it was a random break-in. And you really need to keep doing your stuff.”

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll take a walk down to the water.” Still, guilt kicked in simply because I was able to do things he couldn’t.

  “Good.” He looked back at his Spanish text book and read the new vocabulary words aloud.

  Just as I put on my hooded raincoat, the house phone rang.

  “Holly?” Josh asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Matthew?”

  “Jasper Rosenthal.” I picked up the phone, smiling because I hadn’t completely lost my touch.

  “I’ve finished, Jenny,” he told me.

  “The model?”

  “Yes. Army fired it and brought it back to me this morning. Could you pick it up and take it to the gallery for me?”

  “Of course. I’ll be over shortly.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hung up the phone, still bewildered as to why he had bothered making a model when the final sculpture was complete. That wasn’t the only question on my mind. Why had he not entrusted it to Army to deliver directly to the gallery as he usually did?

  After Rocky’s and my walk between a rain shower and a light sprinkle, I headed straight over to Jasper’s. I had questions, and I was anxious to get his new model to the gallery to compare with the one that was still sitting there on the shelf beside his stone sculpture.

  He thanked me for the peach scones I brought him and tucked them safely in the bread box. “You know your Aunt Winnie used to bake me muffins.”

  “I didn’t know that. I do remember them though. They were wonderful.”

  “Yes, she always slipped something special in them.”

  I smiled, remembering. “Vanilla flavoring sometimes or cherry.”

  “Yes, or chocolate chips in her banana muffins. Or walnuts.”

  Good memories.

  I glanced around his home, seeing things I had not noticed the last time I was here. There were few photographs. I walked over to the largest one that was sitting in the place of honor, the middle of the fireplace mantel. Jasper and Winnie at the gallery in front of their work.