Scent of the Roses, page 36
He paused, and glanced over at her as if he expected a response, but she could think of nothing to say. Was he suggesting that it was all her fault—like everyone else had always done? He couldn’t mean that, could he?
After a moment, he went on again. “Okay. So. Now, on top of that, we have Celeste being strangled only two days after I overheard part of a phone conversation between her and Marsha regarding some information that Celeste thought she had uncovered about a murderer.” He paused again. “You with me so far?”
“I guess,” she answered reluctantly.
“Good. Now, listen up. That teacher who was murdered, back when you were in high school—she was your math teacher too, right? The same math teacher Lucy, Marsha and your sister had?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And that class you helped them cheat in – that was her class, right?”
Scout opened her mouth to speak, ready to argue that she hadn’t done any such thing, but what was the use? “Yes,” she said, instead. Calmly. Just as if her heart were not breaking from the unfairness of it all.
That’s what he thinks of me? That’s how he thinks it went down? Doesn’t anyone understand that it wasn’t my fault?
“I remember that case. She was strangled, as was Celeste. So, I guess what I’m wondering is, could Celeste have known something about that? Could she have had some information – maybe about this test thing – that someone was willing to kill for?”
“What? No! That’s too fantastic. What could she have known? Celeste wasn’t even in Oberon twenty years ago. Was she?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I’m asking.”
“Well don’t ask me! I just got here, remember?” She frowned at him, feeling hurt, perplexed, overwhelmed. “So, are you saying that you think someone— No. What are you saying, exactly?”
“What I’m saying is that…somehow…you seem to be at the center of a lot of these events. I don’t know how yet. But until I find out what’s going on, I’m gonna feel a whole lot better if you’re out of that house. If you’re somewhere else. Someplace where I can keep an eye on you. Someplace safe.”
* * *
The smell of sautéed onions, of garlic and basil and green peppers and other fragrances she could not identify brought Scout back to the present. On the stove, steam rose from a large pot of water. The contents of two saucepans sizzled. Nick stood at the counter next to the stove, chopping basil.
“Hey.” He smiled at her over his shoulder. “We’re almost there, don’t fall asleep yet, okay?”
Scout nodded weakly, but then decided conversation might be the only way to focus her attention. “You really look like you know what you’re doing over there. I’m impressed. I didn’t know you could cook.”
Nick flashed an amused grin at her. “Well, of course I can cook.”
“Why of course? Lots of people can’t, or don’t cook. Like me.”
“Well, that’s different,” he said with a shrug as he sprinkled the basil into one of the pans and then stirred, with a graceful twisting motion of his wrist. “You’re not Italian.”
Scout thought about that. “Are you saying it’s a cultural thing?”
“Nah, I think it’s more— oh, I don’t know, genetic, I guess.”
“Genetic? Like…anyone with Italian blood in their veins can cook?”
“Pretty much.” He bent to open the oven door and removed a fragrant, crusty loaf of bread, which he quickly deposited into a cloth-covered basket. Then he slid the basket across the table towards Scout, along with a small bowl of warm olive oil to which a clove of garlic, crushed red pepper, and several sprigs of fresh rosemary had been added. “I’d say that’s a pretty fair assessment. At least, we all think we can cook,” he said with a wink, then gestured toward the food. “Why don’t you get started with that, okay?”
Scout broke the bread apart and dipped a piece into the fragrant oil. The taste revived more than her energy; she felt warm all the way through to her heart. She’d had no idea she’d been so cold.
“You don’t mean that you all cook well, though, do you?” she asked.
Nick had gone back to chopping – sun-dried tomatoes, this time – which he added to the mixture cooking in the other pan. Now, he nodded. “Of course, I do.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. You can’t call it cooking if it’s something no one wants to eat, right?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Trust me. It’s true. Anyway, the real secret is that each of us, in our heart of hearts, believes not just that we cook well, but that we cook better than just about anyone else. At least when it comes to certain, special dishes. I think that’s why Italians, in general, tend to eat at home so much.”
“So, is Lucy a good cook?”
“Well, of course she is—that’s what I’m saying. She makes a minestrone that even my mother can’t touch. But, you know, she’d pretty much have to be especially good with herbs, and with vegetables and stuff like that, given that she spends so much of her time at the nursery. But if you really want to taste something special, get her to fix you some of her homemade gnocchi with pesto sometime.” He flicked the heat off under both pans and tilted the contents of the pot into a strainer in the sink. Steam rose to envelope him.
Ask Lucy for a favor? Yeah, that’ll be the day. Scout shook her head. “I don’t know, Nick. I can’t really see Lucy jumping at the opportunity to fix me dinner. Unless maybe it was for a going away party.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nick said as he assembled everything onto two plates, which he then carried to the table. “Give her a chance. One of these days, she just might surprise you.”
He set the food down with a flourish and slid into the chair across from her. The plate in front of her had been piled high with multicolored pasta bows in a delicate basil cream sauce, tossed with a mixture of red and green peppers, onions, broccoli, yellow zucchini, sun-dried tomatoes, and cubes of grilled chicken. All topped with more basil and paper-thin slices of Parmesan cheese. Nick watched her with amusement as she inhaled the fragrances greedily.
Scout sighed, happily. “It smells wonderful.”
“Yeah, but it tastes even better – mangia!”
“So,” she asked, between mouthfuls. “Is this one of those special dishes that you cook better than anyone else?”
“Nah,” he answered with a grin. “This is just what you get when you throw a lot of leftovers together. It’s nothing really – just a snack.”
Scout eyed him curiously. “I’ve been wondering. What’s the deal with you and Lucy, anyway? I know you’re cousins and all, but she seems awfully worried about you.”
“Well, we’re double first cousins, that might have something to do with it. 1
“Double first cousins? What does that mean?”
“My mother and her mother are sisters, and her father and my father were brothers. Plus, for a short while, after my father died, my mom and I moved in with her and her family.”
“Sounds like you’re all pretty close.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, we are.”
“You’re lucky.”
“You keep telling me that,” he observed, grinning wryly.
“And you don’t think you are?”
“I guess I am.” He shrugged. “Luckier than my daughter, anyway.”
“Oh, come on. I know something about families, too, you know. Especially the ones that don’t work. I saw your daughter with her cousins. She knows she’s loved. She’s got you and she’s got her mother, and even if the two of you aren’t still living together, it’s still better than being abandoned.”
He nodded. “I know you’re right. And, honestly, I know it’s better now than it was when Lauren and I were together—although, there are plenty of people who’d maybe tell you otherwise.” Nick’s voice was harsh. It pained her to hear it. “But still, it’s not what I ever wanted for Kate.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ah, it was just a mistake, that’s all. As Lucy would probably be the first to tell you.” He shook his head, thoughtfully. “She says I make a lot of them.”
“You? Are you kidding?” Scout smiled, trying to make a joke of it. “Remember me? The queen of galactic mistakes? I’m pretty sure I hold the record for royally screwing things up, as far as Lucy’s concerned.”
Nick shot one piercing glance at her, but just when she thought he was about to say something, he seemed to change his mind, and looked away again. The moment stretched out uncomfortably. When he finally did speak, he caught her completely off guard.
“I need to ask you something,” he said. And the quiet, serious tone of his voice sent a tiny warning tingle through her. “Last night, when you asked if I would stay, I didn’t know if—that is, you didn’t mean— Ah, hell. What did you mean?”
The second wave of fatigue hit her then, and her hand closed convulsively on the stem of her wineglass. She struggled to keep her voice as steady as she could make it when she answered, “Nothing, Nick. I, I didn’t mean anything by it. Really. I guess I just got caught up in the moment, that’s all. It’s not like I was ever going to hold you to it, or anything. It wasn’t a promise. Like you said, let’s just enjoy the present, all right?”
He took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. “From what you told me yesterday, I kind of got the impression that you’re pretty much settled in LA now. I mean, with your work and all?”
She could hear the carefully controlled tension in his voice, the wariness, the fear, and it just about broke her heart. She should have known it was too good to be true. What was it Lucy had said, again? Nick’s got a life. He doesn’t need Scout. She supposed she was lucky to have had even this much. “Yeah. So…?”
“I mean, you probably have a really nice place there, and friends, and…and everything?” he prompted.
She thought of the life she had made for herself. Her little condo near the beach was nice enough, she supposed. Nice and empty. Sterile. Impersonal. Lonely. “Sure. And, you know, like you said, I’ve got my work, too.” She took another sip of wine, not wanting him to see the bitter smile she could not keep from her face as she thought about that. Thought of all those dry, hollow, lifeless shells of clay that awaited her return, “In fact, I fit right in there.” She ran her trembling fingers lightly over the top of the table. Wanting so much to be touching him instead, but not daring to.
“Oberon can be a nice place, too, you know. But…you don’t really like it here. Do you?”
She laughed at that. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I mean, there have always been so many reasons not to!”
He nodded. “I was thinking that maybe, now that you had the house, and all, you might— But I guess there’s still no reason for you to move back here. Is there?”
What was one more lie between them? “No. No reason. And anyway, you know, I still don’t really feel like the house belongs to me. It was Caroline’s house. It really should have gone to Lisa.”
She felt him shift restlessly in his seat. “I don’t think she’s coming back, Scout.”
“Yeah, that’s what Marsha keeps saying.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think Marsha knows more about Lisa’s disappearance than she’s let on?”
“I don’t know. She seems awfully certain that she’s dead—that she’s been dead for a while, I mean. And it’s not like she just thinks so. The feeling I get from her is that she has no doubt whatsoever. Like she believes it for a reason.”
“And what do you think?” Nick asked quietly.
Scout sighed. “I don’t know. After all this time? I think if she could have come back, she would have already done it. At the same time, I don’t really want to believe that she’s gone because – Well, don’t you see? Then it’s like I really did kill her.”
“Of course, it’s not,” he insisted, a little too vehemently, she thought. “You’re not a murderer, Scout. Whatever might have happened to her, I know it wasn’t your fault.”
Scout smiled. It warmed her heart to have him jump to her defense. But all the same, “It really was, Nick. I mean, she would have never left if it weren’t for me. And if she’d stayed…then nothing would have happened to her.”
“Are you so sure of that?”
“Yes! How many times do I have to say it? Lisa left because of me. Because of all the stupid things I did back then.”
“Tell me about it. I never heard the whole story. What was the argument about—exactly?”
Oh, no. Not again. “You already know what it was about, Nick. Why do we have to go into this again? What’s going on here, anyway?”
“Just tell me,” he said quietly. His face so serious it scared her.
Scout sighed and leaned back in her chair, hugging herself fiercely. “We fought about Glenn, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? She knew I’d slept with him, and she accused me of trying to steal him away from her. Then she more or less ordered me to stay away from both of them.
“And I guess I said something like, ‘that’ll be hard, since you and I both have to live here.’ And then she said ‘that’s gonna change,’ or something like that. I don’t know. She said I was in for a surprise; I think. And then she left.”
“Did you try to stop her? Did you go after her, or anything like that?”
“No. When she left – I had no idea that she was, you know, leaving.”
“And that was the last time you saw her?”
“Pretty much, I guess.”
“Pretty much?”
“Well, it was twenty years ago. It’s all a little vague at the moment.”
“Okay, so then what happened?”
“Nothing. That was it. After she didn’t come home from school the next day Caroline asked me if I knew where she was, and I didn’t. But even then, we didn’t realize she was gone.”
She sighed as the memories tugged at her heart. “Up until the point where Lucy got that letter from her, I don’t think the idea that she might have run away had even occurred to any of us. It was just such a stupid thing for her to have done, especially when she—”
“Wait a minute. Are you telling me your sister was missing for practically a whole day and night before you and her mother even noticed she was gone?”
“What? No, of course not. She was in school all day. At least…well, I didn’t see her, but I assume she was there. I never heard otherwise.”
“And the night before was when you two had this argument? So, where’d she go after that?
“Well, she was with Lucy, obviously.”
“Lucy?”
“Yeah. Sure. She’d spent the night at her house. Said they were working on a project or something. I thought they were plotting their revenge, if you must know. Trying to figure out how to get back at me.”
“So…the two of you argued, then Lisa went to Lucy’s house. And then when exactly did she disappear?”
“The following day, like I said. Sometime after school.”
“But, if she was at school, wouldn’t you have seen her?”
“Not necessarily. To tell you the truth, I was trying to stay out of her way.”
“And then after school?”
“Well, after school I was with you.” Scout felt her heart lurch a little at the thought. She smiled at him, sadly.
“Right,” he said without returning her smile. “I remember that part. And then you were with Glenn.”
“No, I wasn’t,” she said in surprise. “After that I went home. Why would you think I was with Glenn?”
“I guess, because you told me you were,” he answered dryly.
Huh? “When did I do that?”
Nick sighed. “That day at your school, when I was there to question you, do you remember that?”
Oh, yes. She nodded, swallowing hard. “I remember.”
“I asked where you’d been, and you said you’d been with Glenn. At his house. Making love.”
Scout gasped. His words, and the ice in his voice were like an assault. “I never said any such thing!” She half stood, slamming her palms down on the table in front of her in sudden fury.
“You did, you know,” Nick told her quietly, playing with his empty wineglass. “I was there. I heard you.”
“No. I might have said that we were making out, but I never—”
“But you did, didn’t you? You slept with him?”
“Well, yes, but that was earlier. Not then.”
“What’s the difference?”
So long ago. Won’t I ever live it down? She sank back into her chair. “Look, I know I said I was with him that day. And I guess you’re right—it doesn’t really matter how I phrased it—but, you knew it wasn’t true. Right?”
When he didn’t answer, she looked at him questioningly. What she saw in his face surprised and puzzled her. “Nick, you had to have known that I wasn’t with Glenn that afternoon. The afternoon of the murder,” she repeated, more firmly. “The day that Lisa ran away.”
“No,” he said at last, even more quietly.
She stared at him in disbelief. “But you knew where I really was that afternoon. Because I was with you. At your apartment. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
“And afterwards?” he prompted, very gently. “After I left?”
She shook her head. “After that I went home. How could you have thought—”
He got up and began to pace the room distractedly. “But you did see him—right? Later that day?”
“No, damn it! Will you listen to me? I didn’t see him at all! I didn’t see anybody. I went straight home. I stayed in my room. I lay in my bed and…and I thought about what had almost happened. What might happen the next time I saw you. What I hoped was going to happen, if you must know.” She smiled weakly. “And then later that evening, I guess it was about eight or so, Caroline came in and asked me if I had any idea where Lisa could be.”
“So then, when he backed you up – about your being with him, that was also a lie?”
“Oh, that.” She laughed at that – a low, mocking laugh. God, what an idiot I was back then—and probably still am now. “Well sure, that’s what made it such a great partnership, you know? If one of us lied the other would swear to it.”
