Chapter Three: New Developments
Heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, and even followed/favorited. You make me smile!
A moment was all Nancy needed to indulge her rumpled feelings. She had already regained control and sat up when her phone began to ring.
"Now what?" she muttered impatiently, narrowing her eyes at the screen. The name on the display surprised her out of her impatience.
"Han Solo calling? Seriously, this has- oh, hi, Joe. I liked the last one better."
"You'd rather get calls from Bob Ross than Han Solo? Suddenly I'm doubting your taste in men."
"The heart wants what it wants," Nancy said with mock solemnity. She could hear the smile in her boyfriend's voice, and her mood was already lifting in response. "And what my heart wants, currently, is to change my passcode so you can't save your number under ridiculous names anymore. Aren't you supposed to be in class?"
"Nope, I'm a free man. He collected our final papers and let us go early."
"Until the fall semester starts, anyway," Nancy said, using the hem of her blouse to blot a stray tear off her steering wheel.
"You had to remind me. I just want to be done with this."
"You'll get there." Nancy dropped her teasing tone. Joe had only enrolled in that summer course out of impatience; he tended to be hard on himself for not having completed his degree years ago. "I'm proud of you," she added.
"Thanks," Joe said, a bit gruffly.
Nancy waited a beat. When he did not immediately speak, she jumped in. "So, what's up? I assume you weren't just calling to gloat about finishing your class."
"You're right. You'll be home this afternoon, right?"
"Yes. Why? Is it a case?"
"Maybe. I just got off the phone with a potential client." Joe hesitated again. "I'll be home around three. I think we need to discuss this one in person."
Involuntarily, Nancy hissed a very unladylike word.
Joe laughed. "I'm sorry, Nan. I promised Chet we'd work out this afternoon. I'd blow it off if I could, but I cancelled on him last time, and he's gonna start feeling unloved."
"He's going to feel unloved? What about me?" Nancy demanded, only half-joking. "I'm going to spend the next few hours going crazy wondering what this is about."
"I'm sorry," Joe repeated. "I should have waited to tell you. I just- I wanted to hear your voice." Then he brightened again. "Hey. If you do actually die of curiosity, do I inherit your car?"
"Not a chance. I'm going straight to Dad's office to get my will changed," Nancy retorted.
"Okay, I guess I deserve that," Joe said. "I'll see you in a couple hours?"
"I'll be there."
"I love you."
"I know," Nancy shot back, in her best Han Solo impersonation.
Joe laughed, delighted. "Hey, that's my line!"
"I couldn't resist."
There was a pause. Then, "Nan?" Joe said tentatively.
"Yes?"
"Don't get too excited about the case. I'm not sure you're going to like it," he said. Something in his tone implied that he was not sure he liked it, either.
"Now I'm even more curious. This had better be a quick workout, Hardy."
"I'll do my best, Drew. See you soon."
Nancy sighed as she lowered the phone. Though she understood Joe's impulse to tell her immediately, and probably would have done the same had their roles been reversed, the resulting anticipation was going to make the next few hours unbearable.
The solution presented itself, as solutions so often did, in a swift flash of insight: George. George will have work for me. Nancy had her car started and was navigating across River Heights toward her friend's martial arts studio almost before her conscious mind caught up with the decision.
George's new studio location had a much nicer parking lot than her old place had. Nancy parked her roadster beside George's familiar battered Jeep and let herself into the building, pausing to inhale the fresh scents of new paint, cardboard, and whatever cleaning agent had been used on the wood floors. She had not seen the place since she and a group of friends had helped George unload her U-Haul on Tuesday. Already, George's signature streamlined style was beginning to emerge from the clutter of moving boxes.
"Hello!" Nancy called, peering into rooms as she moved along the corridor.
"In here!" George yelled back. "Come on back."
"Back" turned out to be one of the spacious, sunny classrooms. Nancy peeked in and found George on her yoga mat, doing a headstand, the stillness of her body and the serenity on her face almost jarringly at odds with the raucous music playing over the room's speakers.
"Hey, Nance." She dropped lightly out of the pose and stood up, lean and long-legged in tight black yoga pants and a neon green tank top.
"Hi," Nancy said, stepping over the threshold. She made a face. "What are you listening to?"
George shrugged. "Just an old CD I found when I was unpacking. What brings you to my lair?"
"I was hoping you'd put me to work, actually. Can I unpack boxes? Wash dishes? File paperwork?"
"You need a distraction," George said, nodding her understanding.
"Desperately."
"Sorry, Nance. This is my distraction right now. It really does help."
Nancy set her purse on the floor and kicked off her sandals. "Okay, what the hell. I'll try it."
"That's the spirit," George teased. "There's an extra mat over by the door."
"Thanks."
"So, what's up?" George asked, moving fluidly back into her own practice while Nancy unrolled the spare mat.
"It's been an interesting morning," Nancy said. Quickly, she outlined the essentials: her bewildering encounter with Ned in the parking lot, Joe's phone call, her resulting impatience.
"My mind is spinning," she concluded, tugging at the waistband of her shorts. "And these shorts definitely weren't made for moving like this. I don't think your distraction is going to work for me."
"I give my students a mantra to focus on if they can't keep their thoughts from scattering," George said.
"Do you have any extra lying around?"
Nancy had been half-joking, but George turned and said, very seriously, "Find a way, or make one."
Nancy repeated it slowly. "Find a way, or make one."
"Yup. Read it somewhere and thought of you," George said.
Find a way or make one, Nancy thought. "I like it," she said aloud. "It feels right."
George looked pleased, but made no response.
Several quiet minutes passed.
"I'm sorry," Nancy said finally. "I never even asked how you're doing."
"Not bad, considering."
"Considering?" Nancy prompted, shaking her chin free from a fold of fabric. Her blouse slipped upward every time she attempted downward dog, pooling irritatingly around her face and leaving her midriff bare. I'm really not dressed for this.
"Just considering," George said with a shrug.
Nancy gave up and settled back on her mat. The floor felt pleasantly cool against her bare legs. "When do you start teaching classes again?" she asked.
"Monday. And I still have a metric fuck-ton of prep to do before then."
"I told you I was here to help!" Nancy scolded.
"Yeah, whatever. You're going to be busy investigating."
"Possibly." Nancy was quiet for a moment. Then she giggled. "A metric fuck-ton? What is that in non-metric terms?"
"About two and a half shitloads," George said, grinning back at her.
Nancy held up a hand, suddenly, asking for quiet. "Did you hear a door?" she said, keeping her voice low.
George sat up. "No."
"I'm positive- " Nancy broke off. They could both hear a new sound, now: the sound of someone approaching rapidly in high heels.
"Bess," Nancy decided.
Moments later, Bess Marvin-Kim stormed into the room. She halted just inside the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other holding a lit cigarette. Her blue eyes flashed sparks.
"I'm leaving him," she announced heatedly.
Nancy was already on her feet. "What happened?"
"Where are the girls?" George added.
"They're with my mom." Bess glanced from George's face to Nancy's, and though Nancy had tried to keep her face neutral she could tell that Bess was picking up on their unspoken fear. "He didn't hurt me. You can stop looking me over like that. I'm fine. We're all fine."
"Right. You're fine," George said drily.
"Physically," Bess snapped. "But I mean it. It's over." She bit off each word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.
"Do you- " Nancy started.
"Is there any actual furniture upstairs yet?" Bess interrupted, stalking toward the stairs that led to George's living space.
"Not really," George protested.
Nancy reached out and caught George's arm. "I don't think she cares," she murmured, tugging George along in Bess's wake.
"This is bad," George grumbled softly.
"I know," Nancy agreed. Bess thrived on drama, enjoyed it; but every instinct Nancy possessed, as a detective and as a friend, was screaming that this was more than mere drama. Something had gone very wrong.
Upstairs, in George's half-unpacked kitchen, Bess flung herself into a chair and took a deep drag from her cigarette. Nancy moved a box of dishes off a second chair and settled herself, reaching for Bess's free hand.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Bess exhaled smoke. "Do I want to talk about the complete collapse of my marriage? Sure, let's talk about that," she said stonily.
George, rather unhelpfully, leaned in and plucked the cigarette from her cousin's hand. "Give me that. This isn't helping," she said with obvious distaste.
"George, don't," Nancy protested. Bess, however, simply sat and watched until George had stubbed it out near an open window and fanned away the smoke; then she coolly pulled out another cigarette and lit it.
"I don't know who I'm more furious with," she said, addressing herself to Nancy. "Tom, or myself for trusting him."
"What did he do?" George called, her voice muffled slightly. Always restless in an emotional crisis, she had prowled from the window to the refrigerator rather than return to the table.
"I caught him cheating."
Nancy felt her eyes widen. "No!"
"Yes," Bess said. Her voice was steady, but Nancy noticed that her hand was shaking as she brought the cigarette to her lips again.
"I warned you when you started dating him," George said, returning to the table with a glass of green tea. She slid it over toward Bess and scowled at the new cigarette. "Damn it, Bess, give me that. Give me the whole pack."
"Really? That's what you care about right now?"
"I'm trying to help!" George said hotly. "Making yourself sick won't make anything better. Give me the cigarettes."
Bess exploded. "For once in your life could you not be a sanctimonious bitch? It's my goddamn body and if I want a fucking cigarette, I'll smoke a fucking cigarette!"
"Fine!" George yelled back, slamming the pack back into Bess's purse. "Go ahead and kill yourself like you always do. Smoke the whole damn pack. I'll even get you a dozen donuts so you can start bingeing again while you're at it."
Bess deflated. "God, George," she said brokenly.
"I'm sorry," George said immediately. "Shit. Bess, I'm sorry. That was over the line."
It was the same conflict Nancy had seen play out thousands of times, the same friction between Bess's need for indulgence and George's need for action. Carefully, Nancy reached out and slid the offending glass of tea off to the side.
"George," she said softly, "do you have anything stronger?"
"Maybe. I'll check."
"Thanks." Nancy reached across the table again, taking Bess's free hand and squeezing gently.
"Fine," Bess said, before Nancy could speak. "You don't have to say it."
"All I was going to say was that we're here for you," Nancy told her.
George returned with a large, half-empty mason jar. "Here. This is all I could dig up."
"Apple pie moonshine?" Bess said, studying the label with undisguised distaste. "Classy, Georgia."
George shrugged. "Take it or leave it."
With a sigh, Bess handed George her cigarette and accepted the jar.
"It's not bad," Nancy assured her.
Bess gingerly unscrewed the lid, sipped, and shuddered. "It reminds me of that time we went camping," she said, making a face. She sipped again and passed the jar to Nancy.
For a moment, all three women were quiet. Nancy took the smallest possible sip and quietly handed the jar to George, who shook her head and placed it back in front of Bess.
"It doesn't feel real," Bess said finally, picking at the edge of the jar's label. "I never thought this could happen to me."
"I know," Nancy said sympathetically. Though she was keeping it hidden for Bess's sake, she, too, was shocked.
Should I have seen this coming? Tom always has been a flirt, but so has Bess, she thought. I always thought they were a good match. As far as Nancy could see, Tom's laid-back charm was the perfect complement for Bess's slightly more domineering brand of sexuality. What went wrong?
"What happened?" George asked, echoing Nancy's thoughts.
"He cheated is what happened!" Bess said indignantly. She gulped more whiskey.
"Yeah, but how did you find out?"
"I was looking at this month's credit card bill," Bess said. "I don't usually read the whole thing...and yes, I know, I'm pretty dumb, but I'm not as dumb as him, because I didn't use a freaking joint credit card to pay for presents for my mistress!"
"What did you see, Bess?" Nancy asked.
"I thought it was a mistake, at first. I actually went and showed Tom." Bess sniffed. "I told him they were charging us for some jewelry we didn't buy, and I was going to call and make them fix it. He said he'd take care of it. I...I don't know why, but I thought...I just had a feeling he was hiding something. So I asked him if he knew anything about it, and he got super defensive and asked me why I didn't just come out and ask if he was cheating..." She sniffed again. Nancy silently found a pack of tissues in her purse and handed them over. "Thanks, Nan."
"What did you say?" Nancy prompted.
"I got mad. He was being really weird about it. So I did ask him." Bess dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "He denied it and then turned around and accused me of being a flirt. I invited him to bite me. He called me a shallow bitch. I took the girls and left."
"You do flirt a lot," George said.
"George!" Nancy scolded.
The fire in Bess's eyes flared again. "Okay, fine. I won't deny it. But why the hell is it okay when he does it, but not when I do?" She tossed her head scornfully. "And at least I've never cheated on him! I would never do that. Never."
"Is it possible," Nancy said gently, "that you misread the situation? Could he be planning a surprise for you?"
Bess shook her head. "I'm not completely stupid, Nance. I checked with the manager of the jewelry store after I dropped off the girls with my parents. She remembered Tom and she remembered what he bought." She turned as she spoke, fumbled in her purse, and produced a folded scrap of paper, which she slapped down victoriously on the table. "There. See for yourself."
"What is it?" George asked.
"It's what he had them print on the gift receipt," Bess said. The flash in her eyes seemed more like tears than defiance, now.
Nancy reached for it. "For N," she read aloud. "The angel in my arms and the devil on my shoulder."
"Fuck," George breathed.
"Oh, Bessie. That is absolutely damning," Nancy said, folding the scrap of paper viciously in half.
"What am I going to do?" Bess wailed. "We were so good together! Why would he do this? I keep going over and over everything. I should have tried harder to lose weight. I should have made more time for him. I should have- "
"Bess, no!" Nancy said sternly. "This was not your fault."
"How can I believe that?" Bess sobbed.
"Oh, sweetie." Nancy did the only thing she could do: she went around the table and gathered Bess into her arms.
"I'll kill him," George said grimly, shoving back her chair and rising to pace the perimeter of the kitchen.
"I didn't hear that," Nancy murmured into Bess's hair.
Bess pulled away, wiping her eyes. "It's just- - it's fucking killing me. She gets jewelry and romantic notes, and what the hell do I get from him? I get stretch marks! I get twenty extra pounds that won't go away no matter how many salads I eat. I get leaky boobs and bags under my eyes and I've wasted the best years of my life on that, that- " She broke off, gesturing helplessly, at a loss for words.
"Douchewaffle?" George suggested.
Nancy could not help it. She giggled. A moment later, Bess joined in.
"That douchewaffle," she repeated, laughing and crying all at the same time.
George flung herself back into the third chair at the table and leaned in to make earnest eye contact with her cousin. "Seriously, Bess. Say the word and I will make him suffer."
"But I l-love him," Bess sobbed. Her anger was a dying star, now, collapsing under its own weight, crushing her inexorably into the black hole of sorrow. "Vivienne was his idea," she added. "That's what absolutely kills me. He begged. Why would he want another baby if he doesn't care about us?"
She crumpled against Nancy's shoulder again. Nancy held her, feeling helpless. Mechanically she spoke the words one says to a friend who has been betrayed, though they tasted like chalk in her mouth. We're here for you, we love you, we will get you through this...all of it was true, and yet all of it was so terribly inadequate.
George was pacing again in the background: shifting moving boxes, bringing tissues, brewing coffee. Occasionally she perched on Bess's other side and rested a bird-light hand on her leg or shoulder.
Finally Bess's sobs gave way to stillness. She sat up, wiping her eyes with the last tissue from her pack.
"I thought I'd found a guy who wasn't an asshole," she said, trying to smile.
"No such thing," George said without rancor, distributing mugs of coffee. "Ask Nan."
Bess's gaze sharpened. "Cherie? What did Joe do?"
"Nothing!" Nancy said, raising an eyebrow at George.
"I meant Ned," George said, answering Nancy's questioning look with a determined nod.
Oh, Nancy thought, realizing what George was up to. What better way to cheer Bess up than by distracting her with fresh gossip? Devious and brilliant.
"I ran into Ned in town this morning," she told Bess, and proceeded to relate the entire unpleasant encounter, playing up her distress and confusion for maximum distraction purposes. Then, in the interest of fairness, she looked back toward George and added "But don't look so smug, George. You have drama, too, and his name is Burt Eddleston. Have you stopped avoiding him yet?"
"That's...not relevant," George said stiffly.
"Please tell me you've at least returned his calls," Bess said.
"I texted him," George said.
"She was listening to that CD he made her in high school when I got here today," Nancy informed Bess.
"I don't know what I want," George said.
"Call him," Bess said. "Just freaking call him. You know why you can't let go of him."
She got up as she spoke. Nancy, studying her friend's face, saw with a quiet pulse of satisfaction that George's distraction had been successful. Bess looked stronger, now, and calmer.
"Thank you, girls," Bess said, gathering up her used tissues. "I'm going to go powder my nose."
George wrinkled her own nose as her cousin left the room. "Who even says that anymore? And thanks for throwing me under the bus, by the way."
"My pleasure," Nancy said sweetly.
"I'm sure." George sighed and stretched. "Don't you need to get home so Joe can brief you on the new case?" She paused, then snorted. "Sorry. Didn't mean that to sound so pervy."
Nancy laughed aloud, grateful for the release of tension. The truth was that she had almost forgotten about the potential new case.
"I'll text him and let him know what's going on. Should we take her out for some lunch?"
"No, thanks, darling," Bess said, sailing back into the room. She had managed to smooth her tousled hair and repair her makeup so expertly that if Nancy had not known what signs to look for, she would never have known that the other woman had spent the last hour sobbing. "I need to get back to my babies."
"You're not driving anywhere," George said bluntly. "I'll give you a ride."
Bess nodded, accepting this without argument.
George, seeming relieved to have a task to accomplish, grabbed her keys and headed downstairs. Nancy lingered a moment, retrieving Bess's purse from the floor. She had a feeling Bess had more to say.
Sure enough, Bess cleared her throat. "Nancy?"
"Yes?"
"I...I want to hire you. I want you to find out who she is."
"Bess, I'm not sure that would be a good idea. What would be the point? How would knowing her name help you?"
"It can't be any worse than not knowing," Bess said stubbornly.
"I'll think about it," Nancy promised. "And I want you to think about it, too. If this is still what you want after you've had time to process everything, then I'll do it."
Again, Bess nodded. "Okay."
Nancy reached for her hand. "Come on. Let's get down there before George comes back for us."
"She would do that, wouldn't she. I love the girl, but I swear she was a Border Collie in a past life," Bess grumbled.
Nancy was quiet for a moment. She did not want to re-open the fresh wound, but she needed to know. So finally she came out and asked: "What are you going to do now?"
Bess took a shaky breath. "Stay with my parents. Think things over. Try to get the truth out of him. Maybe we can still salvage this."
"Do you want to? Can you trust him?"
"It's not that easy, Nan. I have to think about Myra and Vivienne."
"Myra and Vivienne deserve a mother who knows her value."
"You're going to wreck my mascara again." Bess reached for the tissues which were no longer in her bag, frowned, and settled for blinking several times to hold back the incipient tears.
"You know you and the girls can come stay with me if you need to," Nancy said carefully. "You can show up anytime, day or night."
"And find you and Joe going at it on the kitchen floor?" Bess joked weakly.
"We're not animals. If we have to do it in the kitchen, we always use the table," Nancy joked back.
They had reached the parking lot by now. George was perched on the hood of her Jeep, waiting. She slid down as Nancy and Bess approached.
"Thanks," Bess said softly, pausing to wrap Nancy in a long, fierce hug.
"I mean it," Nancy told her. "If you need anything at all, I'm here for you."
"Ditto," George said. "But you already knew that."
"I've never doubted it."
Bess was blinking back tears again when she pulled away. Nancy saw her straighten up, smooth her skirt, and adjust her purse before climbing gracefully into the waiting Jeep; and by the time she was settled there she had regained her poise.
I wonder if I'd be half as strong, in her place, Nancy thought, sliding behind the wheel of her own car. I hope I never find out.