Gayle Roper - Caught In A Bind

William nodded noncommittally.

“It’s true, William. It’s true! Tell him, Merry.”

“It sure looks like a good marriage to me,” I said, glad that this time I could answer the question.

William listened politely to me, then turned back to Edie. “Tell me about Tom, please.”

Edie took a deep breath. “He’s wonderful, caring, encouraging. He’s gentle—”

“Not character traits,” William said. “His history, family background, things like that.”

Edie became engrossed in studying her fingernails. I thought for a moment that she wasn’t going to answer William. Of course, she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to, at least not without a lawyer present. I wondered briefly what old Mr. Grassley of Grassley, Jordan and McGilpin would think about being called out in the middle of the night.

Then Edie spoke, and Mr. Grassley was allowed to sleep.

“I really can’t help you, William.” She glanced up from her nails, her face grim. “All I know is that Tom didn’t like to talk about his past. He said it was too painful.”

Too painful? Or was Tom harboring secrets? As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt like a traitor.

Edie studied her nails again, picking at a piece of frayed cuticle. “I know about painful pasts, so I’ve never pushed him.”

“You don’t even know where he was born? Where he lived before he came to Amhearst?”

“He was born in Philadelphia and lived in Camden, New Jersey, before he moved here.”

William smiled, the furrows of his face going through a seismic shift in the process. “See? You know things about him. When was he born?”

“He just celebrated his fortieth birthday on February 15.”

I waited to see if William would ask for his Social Security number and his mother’s maiden name. With that information, Tom’s name, birthplace and birth date, he could find out anything he wanted to know about Tom.

Then it occurred to me that Bill Bond could supply the Social Security number from the dealership’s financial records and that he’d probably do so with great enthusiasm. He wanted that money back.

Again I felt guilty because I was assuming Tom had the money. I was forgetting innocent until proven guilty. I determined to remember that a reporter is supposed to be unbiased and a friend is supposed to believe.

“Has he always been a car salesman?” William asked.

“I don’t know.”

“When did he move to Amhearst?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where does his family live?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who are his friends?”

Edie’s head came up and her shoulders straightened. “Me.”

William looked at her for several ticks of the antique mantel clock. Edie held his stare. Then he gave a little smile. “Thanks for talking with me, Edie. If Tom comes home, please have him contact me immediately.” He handed her a card.

“When Tom comes home, he’ll call you immediately.”

After William was gone, Edie curled up in the corner of the blue sofa, hugging herself like she was trying to warm the chill inside.

“Where is he?” The tears she had controlled when William was here flowed down her cheeks unchecked. “Doesn’t he know how scared I am?”

I watched Edie and struggled with what to do with the information we had just received from Sergeant Poole. The missing money definitely made the missing man a news story. In fact, it made Tom a major story in a small town like Amhearst.

But Edie was my friend. How could I lay her pain before the whole county? But how could I not? I knew Mac would go with the story as soon as he became aware of it, and the fact that Edie was an employee of the News wouldn’t make any difference. In fact, it couldn’t be allowed to make a difference.

And wasn’t it better that I write the story than—than who? There was Edie or me. Or Mac. Obviously this story wasn’t one Edie could write. And it was definitely better that I write it than Mac. Given his major grouchiness these days, anyone was better than Mac.

“You know this is going to make the News,” I said.

Edie nodded in resignation. “I know. You’ll write it, won’t you?”

“Probably.”

“Please. I want it to be you. I know you’ll be fair. You’ll make it clear that just because Tom is gone and the money is gone, they don’t have to be together.”

I nodded and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I thought my days in the paper were over.”

I looked at her, intrigued.

She shook her head, obviously regretting her slip of the tongue. We sat in silence for a while. Then suddenly Edie started crying again. “Oh, Merry, where is he?”

I had no answer, just useless sympathy. “Edie, why don’t you go to bed? You need some rest.”

“Like I could sleep.” She looked at me through puffy eyes. “But you go on home, Merry. There’s no reason one of us can’t have a good night’s sleep.”

I sat in the blue leather chair, my feet tucked beneath me so I wouldn’t slide onto the floor. “I can’t leave you like this.”

“Pish-posh. I’ll be fine.”

“Pish-posh? Now where did that come from?” If you aren’t patting, distracting is good.

Edie gave a weak smile. “My father always said that.”

“What was he like?” I asked, pleased that distracting was working. Maybe I should ask Mac about doing an advice column.

“He was a professor at the University of Delaware, a charmer, a marvelous guy—when he wasn’t drunk.” She became very interested in the needlepoint pillow in her lap, picking at nonexistent loose threads. “He was a nasty drunk.”

I made a distressed noise. So much for the efficacy of distraction.

“Don’t let it worry you,” she said. “He’s dead now. And Mom and I survived.”

I wondered what was involved in survived. “Where does your mother live now?”

“Still in Newark.” She said it with the ark in Newark getting just as much emphasis as the New, unlike Newark, New Jersey, where the accent was definitely on the first syllable. “That’s where I lived until I divorced Randolph.”

“That’s about an hour away. Randy must get to see him frequently. Wait. I’m assuming Randolph is still in Newark.”

“He’s still there, but Randy doesn’t see him much. Randolph’s lack of interest is probably the main reason Randy fights with Tom and me all the time. A kid always wants what he can’t have. Greener grass, I guess. It’s an ego thing or a control thing or something. Or maybe it’s just as simple as a broken heart. He can’t do anything to make Randolph pay attention, so he takes out the pain on us because we’re handy and won’t turn him out.”

“You guys are very good to him.”

“Of course we are.” Edie looked surprised that I’d find that fact worth commenting on. “I’m his mother.”

And that said it all.

I watched Edie trace the pattern on the pillow she held. “Did you meet Tom in Newark or here? Or somewhere else?”

“Here. When I moved here, I lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment and drove the oldest, most endangered car you’ve ever seen. Finally the car died, and I had no choice but to buy another even if I couldn’t afford it. I went to Hamblin Motors and the rest, as they say, is history.” She smiled softly to herself.

“Love at first sight?”

“At least serious like,” she said. “He asked me out as soon as I signed the sales papers. I found out later that the price was so good because he didn’t take his commission.”

“Wow! That is indeed serious like.”

“We were married in two months, and I’ve never regretted a day of it.”

At least until last night, I thought, but I didn’t say it.

The front door flew open, crashing into the hall wall.