Quiet as the Grave

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“Did you retain counsel?”

Mike shook his head. He had trusted that innocence was everything. He had believed in the system. He still believed in it, at heart, but…

“I didn’t think I needed one. I thought it would look bad if I got a lawyer.”

Parker sighed. “So many people make that mistake. But everyone needs representation. Even innocent people need help handling the system.”

He reached into his pocket. “Here—this is Harry Rouge’s card. I brought it today because I had a feeling you might need it. I knew Harry in D.C. He’s good, and he’s got some experience with murder trials.”

Mike felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Surely you don’t think this is going to get that far? To a murder trial?”

“Of course it will, with any kind of luck. She was murdered—there’s no getting around that.” Parker smiled grimly. “But Harry will make sure it doesn’t go to trial with you as the defendant.”

Mike took the card. It all felt like a bad dream. Even the card felt unreal. Or maybe it was just that his fingers were numb.

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Now you do me a favor, okay?” Parker pointed to the back of the courtyard. “See my poor beautiful wife over there being bored to death by Bourke Waitely?”

Mike looked. Sure enough, Sarah was sitting next to Bourke, a polite smile plastered to her face like a bumper sticker. She looked desperate.

“Yes,” Mike said. “I do.”

“Well, go save her, would you? Ask her to dance. I’m going to see if I can pry the amazing Miss Strickland from your grandfather’s clutches.”

Mike stood, then held out a hand to help Parker to his feet, too. He looked over at Suzie, but he’d barely begun to formulate his idea even in his own mind before Parker began shaking his head.

“Bad idea,” Parker said softly. “The last thing in the world you need right now is to appear interested in another woman.”

Mike frowned. “For God’s sake, Parker, I’m not—I mean Suzie’s not ‘another woman.’ I’ve known her forever. She’s just a friend. She’s just…Suzie.”

“Wrong,” Parker said flatly. “She used to be just Suzie. Things are different now. Look at her, Mike. Now she’s a motive.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“OKAY, NOW…MAKE SURE you’re balanced, and that your legs are touching the wall, right?” Suzie, who was standing on her head, took a quick look over at Gavin, who had just arranged himself, also upside down, next to her along the wall of Summer House’s back porch. “You comfortable enough?”

Gavin wobbled, but steadied himself. “I guess so. This marble is pretty hard on my head.”

“Yeah, it helps if you have grass, or a pillow or something. But we’ll just have to make do. Now, the whole point is to stare at something interesting.”

She used one hand to fold up the loose part of her shirt, which was dangling down over her face, and tuck it under her chin. Good thing she’d worn jeans to this party instead of that skirt she’d been considering.

“How about the stairs that lead to the grotto?” She pointed. “Right over there, with the statues on each side.”

Gavin moved his hands for better purchase. “Yeah, the statues look goofy upside down. And look—there’s Cordelia, way out there. Hey, weird. I didn’t know she looks like her mom, but when you see her like this, upside down, you can tell. And she’s really got crazy hair.”

Suzie smiled, which was actually easier while you stood on your head. Gravity worked with you for a change.

She hoped it was making Gavin smile, too, or at least distracting him a little. When she’d run into him a few minutes ago, here in this secluded corner of the back patio where she’d come to hide from Granville, he had seemed upset. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it. He’d been willing to say only that one of the boys at the party had been a jerk.

But he had appeared on the edge of tears, so she’d pulled this old game out of her hat. It was the kind of crazy thing sensible people rarely did, so she hoped it would shock him out of his distress.

Her gaze caught on something nearer, something red and pointy. It was her fancy shoes, which she’d taken off before she’d stood on her head.

“Hey, look at my shoes. Man. I had no idea they were so plug-ugly.”

“Yeah!” Apparently Gavin was too young to know he was supposed to disagree. He laughed, which made his legs wobble again. “Those spiky heels look like knives, like weapons or something.”

Well, he was right. They did.

“I need new shoes, that’s for sure.” She brushed them aside. “But that’s the point, see? Sometimes, when things start to get you down, you need to step back and view the world from a new perspective.”

“Hey! There’s Dad! It’s like one of those movie tricks, where he seems to be walking upside down.”

Suzie watched Mike coming toward them, climbing the stairs with the physical grace that marked everything he did. Viewed this way, it was even more apparent. His body seemed to belong to him in a way hers had never belonged to her. She was always tripping on her own feet and flinging her elbows into things. He was a thoroughbred racehorse, and she was a just-hatched duck-billed platypus.

He was squinting, as though he couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing, and she saw his smile dawn as he finally comprehended. She briefly considered scrambling to her feet, but realized that would just look even dumber.

Better to brazen it out, even though she could tell that his gaze was locked on her bare stomach. Damn it, the blood had been flowing to her head for five minutes now, but he’d probably think she was blushing because of him.

“Hi, Dad,” Gavin said. “We’re getting a new perspective.”

“It’s a game we used to play in art school,” Suzie put in, trying to sound rational in spite of her bare feet and her hair pooled all over the marble. Also, with her lungs pressing into her throat like this, she sounded like Daffy Duck.

“Yeah?” Mike was still smiling.

“Yes. It helps you to start seeing what’s really there,” she explained, “instead of what you’re expecting to see.”

“Okay. So, what do you think, Gavin? Does the world look better from that angle?”

That was all it took. Gavin, who obviously had remembered his earlier distress, did a kind of backward somersault—just as gracefully as his father might have—and leaped to his feet.

“Dad, where’ve you been? I was looking for you. I want to go home.”

Oh, well. It had been worth a try. Suzie dropped her feet and stood up, too, though it involved a lot more undignified wriggling. She tugged at her shirt, trying to make it settle around her hips again, but one of the ribbons was stuck inside her bra. She had to drag it out like a long strand of red linguini.

“Can we, Dad? Can we go home right now?”

“We really ought to stay for the cake.” Mike hesitated. “Why would you want to go so soon?”

“It’s Spencer’s friend Joe. I don’t like him. He said—”

The boy cast a quick glance at Suzie. But then he decided that either she could be trusted, or his frustration was too intense to leave room for discretion.

“He said some really bad things about you, Dad. There’s a cop out at the edge of the driveway, and Joe said that’s because you’re here. He said the cop is following you to make sure you don’t—”

Mike’s face was suddenly dark, his jaw clenched. “Make sure I don’t what?”

Gavin stared at floor, but his jaw looked exactly like his dad’s.

“Don’t kill anybody.”

Oh, boy. Suzie thought about the crowd of kids they’d left behind on the front lawn. Which one was Joe? He must be a visitor. Apparently someone forgot to hand him the official Firefly Glen credo, thou shalt not poison paradise, as he passed through Vanity Gap.

And what about the even more universal law? Don’t be cruel.

Suddenly Matthew Quinn appeared, loping up the stairs toward them, looking worried and annoyed. This Joe kid must not be a very smart bully, Suzie decided. Obviously he’d let his comments be overheard by one of Gavin’s guardian angels.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Matthew said. “Joe Streaker’s a brat. Parker’s over there scaring the crap out of him right now.”

The tension in Mike’s face remained. “Is it true?”

“What? That there’s a cop in the driveway?” Matthew kept his voice low. Suzie had to strain to be sure she heard every word. But she wasn’t the type to be a demure little female and pretend not to listen. “Yeah. An open tail, obviously. They’re sending you a message. They want you to know they’re watching.”

Mike peered across the grounds, though of course he couldn’t see all the way to the drive. Then he put his arm around Gavin. “You okay?”

Gavin, who clearly had worked himself back into an emotional stew, swallowed twice, as if his throat were too tight. Once again his eyes were shining with unshed tears. Tears of fury, no doubt.

Suzie had fought back about a million of those in her day. Matthew Quinn, who was watching Gavin with sympathetic eyes, probably had, too. He’d once spent three years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. That was probably why he was such an expert on things like “open tails.”

“Of course Gavin’s okay,” she answered for him, to give him time to get his throat under control. “He’s just ticked off. Frankly, I think he deserves a medal for not handing Joe Streaker his bloody nose on a platter.”

Gavin looked up at her. “I was going to, I was going to kick his ass. I don’t care if he is sixteen. But he ran away. He was laughing.” His hands folded into white-knuckled fists. “He thinks it’s funny that my mom is dead.”

“Oh, yeah?” Suzie felt her own hands tightening. “Well, come on. Let’s find this jerk. I’ll hold him down for you.”

“Suzie,” Mike and Matthew said at the same time, and both of them held out their hands, as if to restrain her from racing off in search of Joe the Jerk.

“Okay, okay,” she said. She turned to Gavin. “Grown-ups are such buzz-kills, aren’t they? It would have felt so good.”

Gavin smiled. “Yeah. It would have felt great.”

“Hey.” Mike bent down and took Gavin’s elbows. “What did I tell you about kicking people’s asses?”

Gavin screwed up his mouth, as if he were trying to remember. “Don’t?”

Chuckling, Suzie met Matthew’s amused gaze over the heads of the other two. Gavin really was a chip off the old block, wasn’t he? Served Mike right.

“Come on, Gav. What did I tell you?”

Gavin sighed. “You told me violence is for stupid people. You said smart people think their way out of trouble. But Dad, this guy is soooo—”

“Gavin, think it through. This guy believes we’re the kind of people who would hurt other people. Want to make him right?”

“No, but—”

“Then let’s go be civilized. Let’s watch Spencer open his presents, and we can drive straight home after that, okay?”

Gavin scuffed the ground with one heel. “Okay,” he said reluctantly.

Mike stood. He gave his son a forward nudge and Gavin started moving. Matthew went with the boy, his hand on his shoulder for moral support. Mike turned to Suzie. “Thanks,” he said. “That was a very creative diversionary tactic.”

“No problem,” she said. “I’ve always been willing to make a fool of myself for a good cause.”

He gave her a long look, taking her in from head to toe. She caught herself fiddling with the ribbons on her top, checking their status. Damn it, was she going to start blushing all over again?

“Oh, and by the way…” He paused.

“What?”

She wondered whether he might be going to ask her why she’d shown up at a Firefly Glen party, after all these years. She had her answer ready. Because she wanted to, that’s why. Because, now that she’d seen him once, she’d decided it was stupid to go on avoiding him.

But he didn’t ask. Three, four, five seconds ticked by.

She tilted her head. “By the way…what?”

He reached out and tugged lightly on the tip of a red ribbon.

He smiled. “Nice shirt.”

AS MARSTON COUNTY District Attorney Keith Quigley pulled his Audi up to the squad car parked in front of Summer House, he could see right away that the policeman behind the wheel was half-asleep.

He idled his engine for at least thirty seconds, waiting for the officer to notice him. Nothing. Fifty murderers could have danced across this road in top hats, and Officer—was it deLuca?—wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

Finally he tapped lightly on his horn. DeLuca jerked to attention, bumping his elbow on the edge of the window.

“Sir!” The cop, who probably was no more than about twenty-five, squeezed his eyes, trying to make them track in the same direction. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there.”

Keith smiled, but he kept it cool. “Good thing we don’t believe Frome is a flight risk,” he observed.

The officer flushed, opened his mouth as if to make a defensive comment, then closed it. DeLuca didn’t report to Keith, not technically. But he reported to the sheriff, who knew better than to annoy the D.A. Keith didn’t believe in keeping a “hands off” policy in his investigations—especially murders. He got involved as soon as he had a body, and he stayed involved until he got a conviction.