My mind made a small, frightened leap. “You think you’re responsible for Stan’s death?”
“I don’t know what to think.” The creases went deeper. “The feud . . . I don’t even know what it was about.” She made an impatient gesture. “Something stupid. Feuds always are. But what if old hurts were opened up because I tried? What if my attempts at reconciliation brought it all back? What if . . . ?”
Her strong voice wavered. Quavered. Fell apart into a choking sob. “What if it’s my fault?”
I wanted to say, That’s nuts, of course it’s not your fault. You didn’t have anything to do with Stan’s death and it’s ridiculous to think so.
But I didn’t know what was true anymore. So I took her hand. Held it tight between mine.
And didn’t let go.
• • •
Eddie and I sat on the houseboat’s front deck that night, watching the sun go down and the stars come out. At least I was watching the sun and the stars. Eddie was alternating between being a motionless cat statue and chasing the tip of his tail as if his life depended on it.
I’d turned off all the lights in the cabin to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, and a sense of invisibility had enveloped me. No one could see me, and since I was lying quietly on the chaise lounge, no one could hear me. But I could hear them.
A few boats down, a new couple was welcoming friends to their boat. Wine corks and beer cans were popping open, toasts were being toasted, and a wild happiness was emanating from all.
Closer, a woman with small children was trying to convince her youngsters that, yes, it was bedtime, that just because they were still awake didn’t mean it wasn’t time for sleepy eyes and if they wanted to go to the beach tomorrow, they’d better get into bed right now, and don’t make me count to three. One, two . . .
Next door, Louisa and Ted were putting away the dinner dishes they’d just washed. Silverware rattled and plates tinked as they chatted in voices too low for me to hear. Not that I was trying to hear, of course. Eavesdropping was a nasty habit and those who indulged in it often heard things they didn’t want to hear. Take the time when I was five and had listened in on my older brother and his girlfriend when they—
“He got what he deserved,” Gunnar Olson said.
Eddie, whom I saw in silhouette against the lights of the dock, perked up his ears and turned his head to look at our other immediate neighbor, the one whose mere presence allowed me a discount rate on my boat slip. When I’d seen his lights on earlier that night, I’d wondered what he was doing up here a full two weeks before the Fourth of July, but had hoped I wouldn’t have to find out.
With Gunnar going full force, my quiet evening was done. I should go in, anyway. There were bills to pay and Eddie hair to vacuum. I swung my feet to the deck and started to stand when Gunnar’s voice boomed out through his open cabin windows. “Larabee lived about twenty years too long, if you ask me.”
Then again, listening in to someone else’s conversation could hardly be considered eavesdropping if you were sitting on your own boat enjoying the evening. I sat back down.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Gunnar said to the person on the other end of the phone. “You know, I was up here when he died.”
I bolted to my feet. I knew it! I knew I’d seen lights on his boat that night.
Eddie padded across the deck and wound around my ankles. “Mrr,” he said.
I put my finger to my lips and waved at him to keep quiet.
“Mrr.”
Why, why is it that cats only seem to understand English when it’s to their own benefit? I knelt on the deck and pulled Eddie to me. He allowed the snuggle for a second and a half, then slithered out of my grasp.
“Flew the Cessna up,” Gunnar said. “I got the itch to play a little blackjack. Good thing the cops don’t know I was in town. They’d slap me on the suspect list in a flash, with my history.” He chuckled. “The wife? Nah, she doesn’t know I came up that weekend. She thought I was in Chicago on business. . . . Sure, I told her I’d quit gambling, but this was the first time since Christmas and I won a couple hundred bucks, so it doesn’t count. Besides, she’ll never know. I didn’t get the car out of storage until today. When I was up before, I hired some local to drive me around for next to nothing.”
Which explained why there’d been no vehicle in their reserved parking spot.
“Not until tomorrow,” Gunnar said. “She’s flying up from Grosse Pointe with some friends. Corporate jet . . . yeah. We have some wedding we have to go to in Charlevoix. . . . That’s the one. At Castle Farms. Waste of a Saturday, if you ask me.”