Perri O'Shaughnessy - Presumption Of Death

From the way Sam had just tossed Britta out like rotten meat, Sam must remember plenty too, come to think of it.

“You’re a lawyer?” he said to Nina. “And you’re a P.I.?” To Paul.

They nodded.

“What do you want from us?”

“We’d like to know how well you knew Danny.”

“Why?”

“Oh, Sam, don’t make a big deal out of this,” Debbie told him. “Danny was our neighbor, and he helped Sam with the car, and he hung curtains for me.”

“You would have adopted him if I let you,” Sam said.

“Not really. He was already a man, but he was very lonely and I think it did him a world of good to be part of our little community.”

“He was an outsider here and always would be,” Sam said. “He could try to fit in until the cows came home, he never would.”

“How did he feel about the development across the street?” Paul asked them both.

Sam just sucked on his margarita straw, so Debbie said, “He hated it as much as any of us, I guess.”

“Did he ever talk about the café fire?”

“Not that I recall,” Debbie said.

“He might have had a grudge going there, don’t you think, Sam?” Paul said.

“I got nothing to say,” Sam told him.

“You have a lot to say, I think,” Nina said. “About all this. What’s scaring you so much?”

“ Fuck you,” Sam said in response. His face had turned white and he was shaking. Paul set down his glass hard, scraping the glass table.

“Sam!” Debbie said. She put her hand on his arm.

“Come to my house, my neighborhood, accuse us all of whatever evilness. We’re just trying to get along down here in the woods. Ruthie was as crazy as a rabid coon. She didn’t see squat get out of a car on this street.”

“Mr. Puglia, have you made a withdrawal in the last two months out of any account in the amount of sixty-two hundred fifty dollars?” Paul said. His voice had hardened.

Sam said, “No, I fucking haven’t, and neither has my wife. My wife and I love each other. We pay our taxes and our kids’ tuition. We support our president and we love our God. And we’re not criminals. Now, get offa my property.”

Paul stood up, chest sticking out, hands balled into fists. Nina got up too, hastily, to step in front of him. “Thanks for the margaritas,” she said to Debbie.

“You’re welcome.”

“We’ll be going.”

Paul and Sam stood eyeball-to-eyeball.

“Right, Paul? We have to go now.”

Paul moved back a step. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Releasing his eyes from their deadlock, Sam turned his back on them and sucked on his drink. Nina led Paul to the gate.

“Good-bye,” she said to Debbie.

“Have a nice day,” Debbie said.

Nina and Paul walked across the street to the riprap and looked down at the trickle of river, aware of eyes on them. “Debbie’s on the phone,” Paul said. “Sam’s at the back fence, jabbering at Darryl.”

“You behaved well,” Nina said.

“His turf,” Paul said. “I wasn’t going to start anything.”

“Let’s see what shard of human heart comes flying out of the explosion.”

“Well said. I need food to balance the tequila.”

“There’s an Italian place in the Village not three blocks from here.”

“Let’s go.”

They returned to the Mustang and left Siesta Court. At dinner Paul said, “Are we any closer to finding out who the children are? The children Nate talked about.”

“It has to be one or more of the Siesta Court kids.”

“We don’t know that. Could be some other scam, some other kids.”

“That’s my feeling.”

“You and your feelings.”

Nina thought of Britta’s little towheaded boys, Darryl’s handsome boy Mikey. Callie and April, the apples of Jolene’s eye.

“But if it’s the neighbor kids, why?” she said. “Why?”

M EGAN CAME IN LATE FROM HER martial-arts lesson about seven-thirty. Ted had already done his stretches and was lounging in the hot tub outside. Starving, she hunted around for whatever he had made for dinner, but all she could find was a dry chicken breast.

He hadn’t left her any dinner. He was sulking.

In six years, they had built a home, biked from L.A. to San Francisco, run a marathon together, traveled to Acapulco and Hawaii, invested their money and gotten rich, gone through his father’s death and her brother’s divorce, and generally supported each other to the megamax. Ted was more than a husband, he was her boon companion, that was how she liked to think of him. They were a modern family of two, tight, permanent.

And now this. This choking incident. And Ted’s lack of interest in sex.

They were extremely competent people with resources. These were just maintenance problems, like the sim card in the cell phone dying, or the sink stopping up.

Munching on the chicken, she went downstairs and onto their private deck. In the long last rays of the sun, Ted floated with his eyes closed, his arms hooked onto the tub wall out of the water to keep himself cooler. Next to him on the deck, the laptop showed the Yahoo finance screen.

“Hey,” she said. “I see George is over there grubbing in his garden. I saw Jolene going up the driveway at Debbie’s. She’s usually in for the night by now. Has something else happened?”

“There’s a phone message for you from Debbie. She said she just called to chat.”

“Oh. That’s Siesta Court code for hot neighborhood gossip. I’ll listen later.”

“Maybe you better get to it,” he said. “You never know.”

“Okay. I wonder if it’s about the prowler.”

“Did you see the faxes?” Ted said.

“Yeah.”

“B of A is doing lousy, but it’s still paying out four percent dividends. Brenda thinks we should put fifty thousand in. Buy while it’s down.”

“I already took care of it. Brenda called me at two.”

“The contractor broke a water main up the hill. It’s fixed now.”

“That’s life,” Megan said.

Ted opened his eyes. “Strip down and hop in.”

“I’m going to ride the reclining bike for twenty minutes first.”

“I won’t last that long in here.”

“Meet you at the massage table, then.” Megan went back inside into the bedroom and locked the door. She had changed her mind. She didn’t feel like riding the bike after all. She felt like reading the paper while lying on the bed.

Ted knocked twenty minutes later. She let him in. “What’s wrong with you?” he said, naked and holding his damp towel. “Why’d you lock the door? There’s some kind of crap going on with you.”

“I felt like reading the paper.”

“What about my massage?”

“I thought about it. I don’t see why I should give you massages when you start choking me in the middle of them.”

“Oh. So that’s what this is all about.”

“Yes. That’s what this is about.”

Ted sat down on the edge of the bed. He was so buff that Megan could see each individual ab muscle. He had a dick fit for a porn site. Too bad he never exercised that with her anymore.

“I’m sorry about what I did. But do you remember what you said, Megan? You called me a pervert, accused me of a few major crimes, and topped it off by saying I can’t get it on anymore.”

“Which part didn’t you like?” She threw The Wall Street Journal on the floor.

“Since when did you think you could get away with talking to me like you did?”

“I never said you’re a pervert,” Megan said. “I don’t believe in perversion. People have a right to express their sexuality however they please as long as it doesn’t harm another person. But they have to be open about it with their partners. Trust their partners to understand and accept. Something in our relationship is turning you off, babe. I’m developing some frustrations as a result of your inattention.”