Jan Burke - Sweet Dreams, Irene

Just then there was a knock at the door, and she quickly sat on the notebook. “Who is it?”

The door opened as a voice said, “It’s me, Paul.”

“I asked, ‘Who is it?’ “she said angrily. “I didn’t say, ‘Come on in.’”

“Hello, Irene,” he said to me, ignoring Sarah. “Mrs. Riley tells me you’ve heard from Sammy. That really is a relief. I’ve been worried about her. Of course, with everything else…”

His voice trailed off and he looked away. I felt awful. I wanted to just confess what I was up to – I couldn’t do this to Mrs. Fremont’s grandson. But before I could say anything, Sarah was up off the bed, and to my shock, embracing me.

“Everything’s such a mess now!”

She was sobbing onto my chest. My hands were full of Sammy’s clothes, and here I was being hugged tightly by this kid who, moments before, had been ready to spit in my face. It was only when I felt her slip the journal between the clothes and my chest that I realized what she was up to. I freed one hand and put an arm around her, and picked up my cue.

“There, there, Sarah, it’s hard on all of us.”

Paul Fremont was watching us, puzzled but immobile.

Sarah looked up at me and said softly, “Well, at least Sammy’s safe.” As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes, so that by the time she turned to face Paul, she didn’t have to fake her crying.

I studied him as he looked between us, but couldn’t figure out why Sarah had reacted to him as she did.

“Paul, maybe you could find one of the other girls to comfort Sarah. I really have to be going. I can find my way out.”

He nodded, but put a hand on my elbow as I passed him in the doorway. For a moment, my heart leapt into my throat, but he only asked, “Will you be at Grandmother’s funeral tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said, once again feeling shame for being so underhanded.

“And Frank, I hope?”

“Yes, of course.”

“She thought so much of both of you. Thank you for looking after Sammy.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I turned to Sarah. “Will you be all right?”

“Sure.”

On the way out, I walked through a living room full of teenagers, most of whom watched me. Near the door, two tall, muscular men that I hadn’t seen on my last visit stepped out in front of me, blocking my way. They looked enough alike to be brothers. They were both dressed completely in black, and I noticed their left wrists were each tattooed with a chain of skulls.

I can’t say I felt right at home with these gents. It wasn’t so much the tattoos as the look in their eyes. I got the feeling I meant about as much to them as a pesky fly would, and might be dealt with in a similar manner. There was something more – ruthlessness? Yes. They would first pull the wings off the fly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” one said. He was the taller of the two, and he was rolling a toothpick around in his mouth.

“Out. Let me by.” No use bothering with please and thank you with this type. I became aware that the other kids were leaving the room. Great. I was going to face Heckle and Jeckle by myself.

“What if we say you’re staying?” the other said. He didn’t look as if he solved chess problems in his spare time.

I was about to come up with an answer, when I heard a voice say, “Let her go.”

It was Paul Fremont, and his eyes were blazing with anger. They slowly stepped back, no less insolent, but at least they did as he asked. I thanked Paul and left.

BOTH CODY AND FRANK were waiting for me when I got home. “Hello, boys,” I said as I met them at the door.

Frank looked with curiosity at the mound of black clothes in my arms and said, “Going for a new look?”

Before I could answer, he wrinkled his nose and said, “And a new fragrance?”

I wondered if he would forgive me if I told him I had hoodwinked Mrs. Fremont’s grandson. I decided to delay telling him. I set the bundle down on the couch, where Cody immediately took a very strong interest in the new smells. I turned to Frank and gave him a kiss. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I’m hungry.”

With a mischievous look in his eye, he held on to me and said, “Damn, I’ll bet you mean you want food.”

“I wonder if Carlson would be willing to add a couple more days on to that suspension.”

“You may have a good idea there. But I’ve got a better one.”

Okay, so we ate a little later than I had planned.

OVER DINNER, I told him about Sammy’s disappearance and the stunt I had pulled at the shelter. As I spoke, he started to sit up in that way he does when the business side of him appears. All cop. He asked me a lot of questions, most of which I couldn’t answer, about the coven and the kids she might have known at Casa de Esperanza.

“I don’t like it, Irene.”

“I don’t like it either, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What if she’s involved in Mrs. Fremont’s murder? You’ve gone in and taken things that might be evidence.”

“She didn’t kill Mrs. Fremont.”

“How do you know?”

“I know. I just know.”

He sighed. “She disappeared the night of the murder, right?”

“Well, maybe. She talked to Sarah on Halloween night, but I’m not sure when. At the most, I think she might know who the killer is. I think she’s in danger.”

“I don’t suppose it ever crossed your mind to share these thoughts with the police?” The tone was sarcastic in the extreme.

“I am sharing these thoughts with the police.”

“You know I’m not on that case.”

“Well, then, goddamn it, Frank, tell someone who is. What am I supposed to do? Call up Robbery-Homicide and say, ‘Jeez, guys, I’m worried about a kid who took off from a runaway shelter. She’s never mentioned the murder itself, but I just have a gut feeling that the two might be connected’? Do you think they’ll listen?”

“I’m listening, aren’t I?”

I grasped my head in my hands. “Tell whoever you want to.”

“Irene.”

“What?”

“Don’t be angry with me. You know you can’t give me this kind of information and not have me act on it.”

“I’m not angry, Frank. I’m just frustrated. Tired. I don’t know, something. But not angry with you.”

“Even if they look for her because they think she’s killed Mrs. Fremont, at least they’ll find out where she is.”

“I hope so.” But even as I said it, those hopes were sinking.

“Mind if I go with you tonight?”

I was surprised. “Do you have any idea how boring this last-minute grandstanding gets to be?”

He ignored that. “Which race are you covering tonight?”

“District Attorney. John put other people on the mayor’s race and city council.”

“Well, I have a real interest in who becomes District Attorney,” he said with a grin.

“You’re going to have to work with both of them anyway, and you know it.”

“I just don’t want to sit around by myself.”

“Thank God you told me the real reason, Frank. I thought you had lost your mind. I’d love to have your company.”

WE WENT to the Montgomery gathering, which was noticeably subdued. Stacee had covered Henderson that night, and we met up with her later at the Express offices. Stacee took an immediate interest in Frank, who – damn his gray-green eyes – was not as immune as Jacob Henderson to her powers. It was all I could do to get her attention away from him long enough to talk about the business at hand. I wanted to strangle her.

I pounded on the keys as I wrote my story and noticed that whenever I looked up, Frank was watching her sashay hither and thither. He would feel my eyes on him somehow, and look down at me and smile. It would be a double homicide, I decided.