Caught In A Bind

“Well, it’s gone. I need more.” He stared down at her, tall, handsome and hostile.

I wanted to poke him hard, inflict a little pain. Edie just sighed and began rummaging in her purse.

“By the way, Mom.” I could hear the nasty glee in Randy’s voice and knew he was going to say something that would hurt Edie. “The police were at the house.”

“What?” Edie grabbed his arm. “Did they say anything about Tom? Is he hurt? Where is he?”

“Don’t get all overheated, Mom.” Randy pulled free. “They don’t know where Tom-boy is. In fact, they’re looking for him, just like you.”

Edie blinked. “But why?”

I studied the blond man-child with the wicked glint in his eyes. “Exactly what did the police say, Randy?”

“They said—” and he paused for effect. “They said that they needed to talk with Tom.”

“That was it?” Edie asked.

He looked at his mother with a smirk. “Isn’t that enough, Mom? I mean, the cops are after him!”

Jolene opened her mouth to retort when a sweet young voice called, “Hey, Randy.”

Randy jerked like he had been hit with a taser. He spun to look at the lovely girl passing us on her way to a table on the other side of the restaurant. Gone was the smart-mouthed kid who delighted in causing his mother distress and in his place was a self-conscious, thoroughly smitten young man who stared at the little ebony-haired beauty, his heart in his eyes.

“Sherrie,” Randy managed to say. “Hey, yourself.” He wandered after her as if he couldn’t do anything else.

“His tongue’s hanging out so far he’s going to step on it any moment,” Jolene muttered, but she was laughing.

The girl was with a woman who had to be her mother, their hair and eyes showing that relationship clearly. A young man was with them, probably a brother by the casual way he treated Sherrie. When Randy, all charm, took the last seat at the table without waiting for an invitation, the young man looked at his mother and just shook his head.

Edie stared at her son in wonder. “Look at him. He’s being polite.”

“You’ve done a good job as a mom, Edie,” I said. “Maybe a better job than you realized.”

She grunted, unconvinced, and we finished our meal. When the bill came, we gathered our belongings and went to the cash register. Edie glanced toward Randy, but he was studiously avoiding us as he listened attentively to Sherrie’s mother talk.

Edie giggled as we left the restaurant. “He never did get the money he wanted. He’ll ruin any good impression he might be making when he pulls out an empty wallet and that poor girl’s mother has to pay for his food.”

“Serve him right,” Jolene said succinctly.

We walked in the spring dusk to the parking lot behind the News and dispersed to our separate cars. I was just about to put the key in my ignition when a thought struck me. I climbed out of the car and walked to Edie, who sat staring out the windshield of her little red Focus.

“Edie, Tom will be at work for two to three more hours.” Assuming he was at work and not missing. “Let’s stop for a video and watch it together until he gets home.”

I watched Edie’s shoulder sag in relief and knew she’d been afraid to go home. I resisted the urge to pat her, got in my car and followed her to the video store. We argued gently over our choices of films and ended up with a comedy and an action/adventure, both nicely escapist.

I followed Edie to the outskirts of town where she pulled into the driveway of a white and brick split-level with maroon shutters and lots of uninspiring yew bushes. Clumps of daffodils nodded their heads among the yews, warm splashes of sunshine in the glow from the light beside the slightly buckling walk.

Edie unlocked the front door, painted maroon to match the shutters, and we stepped into an entry hall. The first thing I saw was a beautiful cherry pedestal occasional table with a delftware bowl and a pair of matching candlesticks on it. Above it hung what could only be an original Curtis Carlyle.

“Hey, great painting.” I shrugged out of my coat. “Great artist.”

Edie actually smiled. “You’re prejudiced.”

I looked at Curt’s lovely portrayal of a creek running beside a stone farmhouse. The roses and golds of early morning turned the water into a shimmering mirror reflecting the lush greens of the towering evergreens beside the house. I felt restful and serene just looking at the scene. I reached out and ran my fingers over the signature.

“You’re smiling,” Edie observed.

I smiled more broadly. “I’m not surprised.”

“You love him.”

“Very much.”

Edie studied the picture. “I prize this painting. Tom gave it to me for our fifth anniversary last October.” She blinked rapidly, turned and led the way into the living room. She indicated a couch with a wave of her hand and kept on walking. “I’ll just be a minute. I want to check the answering machine.”

“Of course you do. Go right ahead.”

I turned and looked at the living room, really looked at it, and I felt my mouth drop open.

The living room was full of the softest robin’s egg-blue leather furniture I’d ever felt. It sat on the plushest of pastel floral carpets and was lit by Stiffel lamps in glowing brass. The end tables were cherry with a satin sheen, and the coffee table was a great glass and cherry rectangle that took up half the room. The drapes—no, they weren’t drapes; they were window treatments—repeated the blue of the furniture and all the pastels of the rug. The walls were covered with more original watercolors including a Scullthorpe, a Gordinier, a Bollinger and another Carlyle, this one with a dark and stormy sky of deepest purples and blues. As I looked at it, I could feel the heaviness of the storm, hear the crackle of lightning, smell the ozone.

Edie came into the room. “Nothing. Not a single message, let alone one from Tom.”

I turned to tell Edie how sorry I was and my eyes fell on the adjoining dining room. Again the furniture was magnificent. Too overwhelming for the size of the room, but magnificent. Cherry sideboard, table and breakfront gleamed above an oriental rug of luminous crimsons and blues laced with cream. The drapes echoed the colors of the rug, as did the matching seats on the heavy chairs crowded about the table.

I thought of my apartment with its well-used furnishings, most taken from either my bedroom or my parents’ attic when I left Pittsburgh and moved to Amhearst. I had started to slowly buy better pieces, but it’d be years if not forever before I could afford the quality Edie had. Tom must really be doing well at the dealership.

When we slouched on the blue leather sofa to watch the videos, I felt I’d slide right off the cushy piece onto the floor. I pushed myself upright time after time, only to feel myself slip south, a victim of the smooth grain, featherbed softness and gravity.

It was almost eleven when we finished watching both films, and Tom wasn’t yet home.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” I asked. I hated to leave her alone.

She looked momentarily tempted, then shook her head. “No, thanks. Tom’ll be home soon.”

Neither of us added, “I hope, I hope, I hope.”

No sooner had we fought our way out of the sofa’s warm embrace—no easy feat, let me tell you—than the doorbell rang.

Edie looked frightened, and I didn’t blame her. Who rang your doorbell at eleven at night? Only people bringing bad news. The question was: Was the bad news about Tom or Randy?

She straightened her shoulders and walked into the entry. I trailed behind and watched as she looked through the little peephole in the door.

“It’s the police.” Her voice shook. “William.”

Somehow that made me feel better. We both knew Sergeant William Poole fairly well from our work at the paper. We were always in contact with the police about one story or another, and William was frequently our contact man, but as soon as I saw his face, I knew he wasn’t here for PR now. Officer Natalie Schumann was with him.

William looked distinctly unhappy as we all stood in the entry, his deeply furrowed face pulled into a great frown. William was the human equivalent of a shar-pei, those Chinese dogs that are all wrinkles. Tonight he appeared to have acquired a few more.

“Is it Randy?” Edie’s voice was tight with fear.

William shook his head. “I’m not here about Randy.”

Edie exhaled in momentary relief. One fear defanged. One to go. She closed her eyes as if gathering herself. “If it’s not Randy, then it’s Tom?”

William nodded. “I need to speak with him.”

“What about?”

William shook his head. “I need to speak with him, Edie.”

Edie’s shoulders sagged. “I need to talk with him too.”

“I know you spoke to dispatch about him last night.” William’s brow creased more deeply. “He’s still not here?”

“No.” It was obvious that confessing to his absence pained her deeply.

William reached into a shirt pocket and pulled out a tablet and pen. “When did you last see him?”

“Yesterday morning about 7 a.m. when I left for work.”

I watched William scribble Th 7 a.m. “Did he act in any unusual way? Say anything that in retrospect seems significant?”

“No. It was a morning like every other. He leaves for work later than I do, so he walks me to the car and sees me off. He—” She broke off and looked embarrassed.

“What?” William asked. “Tell me, Edie.”

“It’s just a little ritual we have. He presses me against the car and gives me a big hug and kiss. We started it when we were first married because Randy didn’t like to see me kiss Tom. The garage is private.”

I thought of having to go to the garage to kiss your husband. Another blot against good old Randy.

“Randy told me you were here earlier looking for Tom,” Edie said. “Now you’re back. Something serious is going on here.”

William returned Edie’s direct look. “Charges have been filed against him, and I need to question him.”

Edie paled. “Charges? What do you mean, charges?”

William watched Edie carefully. Watching for a guilty reaction? “Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars is missing at Hamblin Motors.”

Edie stared at William. “And they think Tom took it?”

“It’s missing, and so is he.”

Edie looked wild. “But William, that’s circumstantial! No one saw him take it, did they? Of course they didn’t. This is Tom we’re talking about. He’d never take anything!”

“Then where is he, Edie?”

“Believe me, I wish I knew.” Edie ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Then you’d know.” She turned desperate eyes on me. “Tell him, Merry. Tell him Tom would never do such a thing.”

Oh, Lord! It was a plea shot straight from my heart to God’s ear. What do I say?

And an answer came.

“William, how did over eighteen thousand dollars go missing?” I asked. “It’s not like Tom walked up to a cash register and grabbed it, is it? Or held up the dealership like a bank robber does bank tellers? When people buy cars, papers get signed, down payment checks get written, but cash doesn’t get exchanged.”

William just looked at me.

Suddenly I was overcome with doubts. “It doesn’t, does it?”

“It seems that Tom sold a car to an elderly couple Thursday night,” William said. “The deal was concluded about 8:50 p.m. This couple paid cash and drove the car off the lot at 9:05.”

“Cash?” I was surprised. “They walked into the dealership with eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars on them?”

“In her purse. In fact, they had about five thousand dollars more because they weren’t certain how much the car they finally decided on would cost.”

“And you think Tom just kept this money?” Edie’s voice shook with outrage.

William’s craggy face was impassive. “The register was closed for the evening by the time the deal was concluded. Policy in situations like this is to seal the money in an envelope, have it initialed by the salesman and the manager and lock it in the cashier’s drawer until morning when it can be entered into the record appropriately.”

“And Tom didn’t follow procedure?” I asked.

“He did,” William said. “That’s how we know about the money.”

“You mean that if he hadn’t had the manager initial the money, no one would have known?” I was intrigued. “He would have been able to walk off with the money?”

William nodded. “At least no one would have known until the monthly inventory of cars on the lot, and one was found to be missing. Or until the couple brought the car in for servicing, and there was no record of the sale or the service warranty.”

“But surely if Tom wanted to steal the money, he wouldn’t have gone to the manager,” I said. “He’d have pocketed the money and walked out the door.”

William flipped his notebook shut. “The manager says Tom didn’t get the chance to just walk out because he was passing by as Tom took possession of the money. Together they prepared the envelope as soon as the couple left.”

“So it’s Bill Bond’s word against Tom’s.” Edie eyed William.

He nodded.

“Now there’s a tough call.” Edie was derisive. “Bill Bond is not the most stable of men.”

“Why do you say that?” William asked.

“Tom’s told me lots of Bill Bond stories. One day he’s fine, the next he’s not. One day he’s your friend, the next he’s out for your hide. He’s difficult to work under, very egocentric. Not that he does anything illegal. He just likes to ride awfully close to the line. Obviously he has finally crossed it.”

William said nothing.

“What?” Edie asked. “Don’t you believe me?”

“Edie,” William said gently. “Bill Bond is here to talk to. Tom isn’t.”

THREE

Tears sprang to Edie’s eyes as William made his pronouncement, and next thing I knew, I was patting her shoulder.

When in doubt, pat.

“I’m sorry, Edie.” William looked sad but stoic. “I have to consider the facts, not feelings or instincts. Bill Bond may not be the world’s most charming man, but he hasn’t disappeared.”

Edie looked resigned. “I know. It’s just that Tom is such a good man! He’d never take eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars. It isn’t even logical. Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars isn’t worth ruining your life over.”

“What if he wanted to disappear? Eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars would be a good starting point.”

“But why should he want to disappear?” Edie obviously found the idea incomprehensible.

“People disappear all the time. They want to get out of dead-end jobs, dead-end towns.” He looked at her carefully. “Dead-end relationships and marriages.”

Edie’s head jerked like William had slapped her. “Never! We have a wonderful marriage. And believe me, because of past experience, I know good when I see it.”

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.

Edie sat straight up. “Tom?” The hope in her voice broke my heart.

Randy stalked by the living room without so much as a glance in our direction. He continued down the hall to the back of the house. In a moment I heard him opening the refrigerator.

Edie checked her watch. “It’s 1:05. No kid his age should be out this late, but tonight I’m just not up to the confrontation. All I can think about is Tom.”

I nodded, thinking that Randy had been counting on just that and was taking advantage of her preoccupation. The kid was clever, a master strategist and champion manipulator. Usually that meant a keen intelligence. What a waste, I thought, to use your mind to wound and distress.

“I just hope he hasn’t been with that adorable little Sherrie all this time. Too cute. Too many hormones.” Edie shivered.

Randy appeared in the doorway, a can of Mountain Dew in one hand and a bag of Chips Ahoy in the other. He had enough caffeine and sugar there to keep a small town awake for hours. He’d probably wolf it all down and fall immediately into a deep slumber.

“No word from Tom-boy?” he asked his mother.

She shook her head.

He smirked. “Aliens, Mom. Or else he’s deserted you.”

“Randy!” I couldn’t help it. He was being so unkind.

He ignored me. “Just like you did Dad.” His smirk deepened. “I guess you’re finally getting what you deserve.”

Edie sighed. “I’m not going to discuss why I left your father, Randy. You know that. He’s your father, and I won’t talk against him.”

I watched Randy absorb his mother’s comments without any perceptible change of expression or posture. I concluded that Edie’s comments on this subject were as familiar and frequent as were his barbs. He turned to me without a blink.