A Million Little Lies Page 12

  On Thursday afternoon as she was cleaning the mirror for a third time, she caught sight of her reflection and saw a strange shadow in the blue of her eyes. She bent forward, took a closer look, and discovered it gone. Concerned that it could be the shadow of her past, she decided the house was clean enough. After she’d emptied the pail and tossed the cleaning rags in the laundry basket, she settled at the kitchen table across from Ida and told her about needing new shoes.

  “I’m hoping you can see your way clear to lend me a bit of money,” she said. “Just until I get my first paycheck. I can pay you back then.”

  “Sorry, but no,” Ida replied, her voice sounding resolute, even though a smile was tugging the corners of her mouth. “I won’t lend you the money, but I will take you shopping and buy you shoes.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I can pay you back—”

  Ida folded her arms across her chest and gave a stubborn nod. “I know perfectly well what I have to do and don’t have to do; this is something I want to do.”

  “I know you want to, but you need that money to cover expenses and—”

  “I’ve got extra this month; sort of like a windfall that came my way.”

  “Windfall? What kind of windfall?” Suzanna asked suspiciously.

  Ida hemmed and hawed for a few moments then said, “I received an extra check from Social Security. Some kind of bonus.”

  “Really?” The sound of doubt was still threaded through Suzanna’s voice. “Odd, you’ve not mentioned this so-called bonus before.”

  Ida folded and then refolded the dish towel she’d been holding. “Oh, didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind. Anyway, it’s enough for us to have ourselves a nice shopping day tomorrow,”

  “Well, okay. But I still plan on paying you back.”

  “We’ll see.” Ida smiled, folded the dish towel one last time, slid it into the drawer, then left the kitchen.

  The next morning as soon as Annie was out the door and on her way to school, they left for Barston. With the sweltering heat of September now gone, the morning was cool enough for Suzanna to wear her jeans and the sweater she’d borrowed from Ida. At 9:30, when the watchman unlocked the front door of Major’s Department Store, they were waiting at the entrance.

  Their first stop was the second-floor shoe department. After trying on several pairs of pointy-toed flats and a number of high-heeled pumps, she decided on a pair of stilettos made of a leather that was as soft and smooth as a calf’s underbelly. Suzanna slid them onto her feet, then stood and walked across carpet to test her balance. After several trips back and forth, she smiled and gave a nod.

  Ida waved the salesman over. “We’ll take these and the pointy-toed flats.”

  “Not both,” Suzanna hissed as she hurriedly buckled the strap of her sandal. With one foot still shoeless, she looked up at Ida and shook her head, but by then the clerk had walked off with both pairs of shoes and the charge card.

  “I can’t afford them both,” she said in a desperate-sounding whisper.

  “You don’t have to afford anything. Those shoes are a gift.”

  “No, I intend to pay you back just as soon—”

  “Your granddaddy told me to never look a gift horse in the mouth, and I’m giving you the same advice. Now, that’s the end of it. I won’t listen to another word about you paying me anything. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already given me ten times what those shoes are worth.”

  “I haven’t given you a dime,” Suzanna argued.

  “Money’s not the only means of paying a person.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really don’t understand—”

  “That’s because you’re not as old as me. When you get to be my age, you can see the value of things a lot more clearly. I believe I’m doing exactly what your granddaddy would want me to do.”

  The mention of a granddaddy that was not rightfully hers made Suzanna cringe. She bent down, slid her foot into the second sandal, and buckled it ever so slowly, all the while wondering if she could ever make up for the lies she’d told. Ida deserved better. She deserved the truth, but that was the one thing Suzanna could not give her. She had chosen her path, and there was no turning back. The only thing she could do was embrace Ida wholeheartedly, return the love that was given, and pray her treachery was never discovered.

  “Get a move on,” Ida finally said. “I’m anxious for you to take a look at what they’ve got in the sportswear department.”

  As they rode the escalator up to the fifth floor, Suzanna again protested, saying she didn’t need anything other than the shoes. “Colette wants me to wear her fashions at work, and the clothes I’ve got are fine for now.”

  “For gardening maybe, but not if you’re dating.”

  “I’m not dating.”

  “Not now, but in time you will be.” As they passed a display of sweater sets, Ida stopped and held up a cardigan that was the same shade of blue as Suzanna’s eyes. “Now something like this would be perfect for weekends or a dinner date.”

  “Grandma,” Suzanna said with an air of frustration.

  “Darla Jean,” she replied just as emphatically, “you have got to learn to accept gifts more graciously.”

  Suzanna quit protesting after that, but she couldn’t rid herself of the lump of guilt that had settled halfway between her chest and her stomach. Although she said nothing more, she vowed that every dime of her first paycheck would go directly into Ida’s bank account. She’d say she too had had a windfall and claim the money was what was left over. Once she actually had the job at Cavalier’s Couture and was working steadily she could think about saving for Annie’s college and the things she wanted, but her first priority had to be making sure Ida was paid back. Stealing Darla Jean’s identity was bad enough; there was no way Suzanna could justify taking gifts that were intended for her.

  Even after she’d made that decision, the guilt remained lodged in her chest. When they sat down to lunch in Lady Anne’s Tearoom, the only thing Suzanna could manage was a cup of chamomile tea and a slice of dry toast.

  Earl

  The Search Begins

  ONCE HE HAD BOBBY DOHERTY’S name, Earl thought finding him would be a breeze. He left the library, drove to the gas station, and parked in the back alongside the telephone booth.

  The county directory was dangling from a chain inside the booth. Earl flipped it open, turned to D, and began searching for Doherty, Robert or Bob. The Dohertys started with Arthur and stretched on for nearly half a column. In all, there were twenty-three: five in Sun Grove, the remainder scattered across the county. Not one of them a Robert, Bob, or Bobby. With this many Dohertys, Earl felt certain he’d find Mr. Football or a relative who could say where he was. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he ripped the page from the book; he’d need the addresses as well as phone numbers.

  He pulled a pencil from his pocket and marked a check next to the locals. He’d start there and, if need be, branch out. Twenty-three wasn’t all that many. He’d come this far; he wasn’t going to stop now.

  Earl took a handful of change from his pocket, laid it on the shelf, then dropped a dime into the slot and dialed the number for Charles Doherty, the first of the five locals. As the trill of the ring echoed in his ear, he thought through what he’d say. His plan was to try and sound friendly, casually call the guy by his first name and claim to be a classmate planning a reunion or maybe a football player from the high school team. He was trying to remember the name of that team, but before he could pull his thoughts together a woman answered and her voice took him by surprise.

  “Charles?” he said without thinking.

  “No, this is not Charles,” she said in a snippy sort of way. “Do I sound like Charles?”

  “No, No, of course not. I just thought—”

  “Well, you thought wrong! Charles isn’t here. He hasn’t been here for six months. Try his girlfriend’s apartment, he’s probably living there.”

  “I’m not really lo
oking for him. I’m actually trying to find Bobby—”

  “Is this some kind of sick joke? Did Bobbi Ann put you up to this? I suppose she thinks it’s fun to torment his wife for believing a marriage is something sacred, for believing that…”

  It was hot as hell in the telephone booth. Earl’s nerves were already on edge, and now he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. He allowed her to ramble on for a minute then cut in.

  “Look, lady, I got nothing to do with whatever’s going on. I’m just trying to find the Bobby Doherty who played football for Sun Grove High back in 1952. Do you know him or not?”

  “Not!” she said and banged the receiver down.

  “Asshole,” Earl grumbled into the dead line.

  He waited a moment, trying to hold back the irritation he was feeling. He couldn’t afford to sound like he was spoiling for a fight if he wanted to find Bobby. He had to make them believe he was a friend looking to catch up with a classmate. He opened the telephone booth door for a breath of air, then dropped another dime in and dialed the number for the second local, Diane Doherty.

  The phone rang twenty-eight times, then Earl hung up and waited for the clink of his dime dropping into the coin return.

  With discouragement already feathering the edge of his thoughts, he dialed the number for Frank Doherty, the third local. A man answered on the second ring, and Earl felt his optimism rise. Men were easier to talk with. They could carry on a conversation without becoming unreasonable or flying into hysterics.

  “Afternoon, Frank,” he said. “I’m looking for a Bobby Doherty; played football back in ’52—”

  “Who is this?” Frank cut in. “And why are you looking for Bobby?”

  The questions coming at him like that shook Earl, but he tried to keep his voice level. “Me and Bobby played football together. I’m in town so I thought I’d look him up, maybe have a few beers, talk about old times.”

  “Played football where?”

  Earl was starting to sweat again. “High school.”

  “High school, huh? What team?”

  Earl hesitated. He’d seen the name of the team in the yearbook, but it was no longer there in his mind. He closed his eyes trying to picture the red and black lettering on the team shirts, and that’s when Frank spoke again.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” he said. This time his voice was a lot sharper and weighted with the sound of suspicion. “I was the team workout coordinator; seems you’d remember that.”

  Frank hadn’t said if you were actually on the team but Earl sensed the thought was there, hanging onto the end of his statement. Realizing the conversation was headed south, he tried to backpedal.

  “I broke my leg early on, dropped out, but me and Bobby stayed close. I figured—”

  “What’d you say your name was?”

  Pinned to the wall as he was, Earl said the only thing that came to mind. “You might not remember me. I’m Suzanna Duff’s brother.”

  “We didn’t have a Duff on the team. Ever. What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing. You’ve got it all wrong—”

  “No, pal, you’ve the one who’s got it wrong. I’m gonna hang up, but if I hear from you again or get word of you bothering any of the players on that team, the cops are gonna get involved.”

  A click sounded, and the line went dead. Earl knew he’d blown it. He shouldn’t have called and left himself wide open to questions. He should have driven by the house, looked around. Suzanna had Annie with her. If she was there, he’d see kid toys on the porch or in the yard. Driving by first to get the lay of land, that would have been smarter; much smarter.

  He’d thought knowing Bobby’s name would be enough to find him, but it wasn’t. He’d need more information; the name of the team, the coaches, other players. He wasn’t prepared this time, but next time he would be.

  Earl returned to the library three afternoons in a row. He gave a polite nod to the librarian, asked to see the yearbooks for ’50, ’51, and ’52, then sat in the research area going through them page by page. He read the team stats, studied the names of the players, and made a lengthy list of Bobby Doherty’s classmates. When his brain grew weary, he turned to the picture of Suzanna and sat touching his finger to her face. He thought back on how happy he’d been when she was with him and silently swore that once she came back he’d never give her cause to leave again.

  By the time Earl was ready to resume his search for Bobby, he’d made up his mind to go at it a different way. No more rushing into things. He’d take it slow, scope out the houses, watch who was coming and going, then make his move. Suzanna had already been gone five months, so what difference did another week or two make? In the end he’d have her back, and wasn’t that what mattered?

  Determined to avoid another go-around like he’d had with Frank Doherty, he mapped out a story that would melt the heart of almost anyone then worked on fine tuning it until it was smooth as silk. Once he found a person who might know something, he wouldn’t try to pass himself off as a classmate. Instead he’d say his kid brother was on the debate team with Bobby. People were less likely to remember who was or wasn’t a debater; those poor schnooks didn’t get the glory of the football players. If asked, he’d say his brother was killed in an automobile accident and claim he was trying to put together a memorial. To make the tragedy seem real, he’d look away, as if holding back tears. An act like that was a sure-fire winner, and people were far less likely to press a grieving brother.

  Satisfied with his plan, Earl began staking out the houses of the five Dohertys living in Sun Grove. He drove by each house six or seven times a day: early in the morning, late at night, and evenings when he could find time to slip away from his job at the bowling alley. Twilight was a good time to see without being seen. Often he’d park a few houses down and wait, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bobby, but it never happened.

  After three weeks of surveillance, he had nothing and was growing more discouraged by the day. The long hours of being squashed down behind the steering wheel made his eyes weary and his legs cramped, and he began to wonder if finding Suzanna was really worth the trouble. He was reluctant to speak to Frank Doherty again and was ready to consider giving up the search when it dawned on him that Frank wasn’t the only Doherty around and there was no reason why he couldn’t talk to the others. He had a good story now, solid as a rock. This time it would be different.

  The bowling alley was closed on Tuesday, so that morning he showered, dressed in tan slacks and the white shirt Suzanna claimed looked good, then drove over to Pauline Doherty’s place. It was a squat little pink house surrounded by overgrown bushes and set back from the street. Judging by what he’d gleaned in his surveillance, the silver-haired woman lived alone, which, as far as he was concerned, was better. The last thing he wanted was another encounter such as he’d had with Frank.

  Pulling up to the front of the house, he stepped out of the car, looked around to see if anyone was watching, then hurried up the walkway and rapped on the door.

  “Hold on, I’ll be with you in a minute,” a reedy voice called out.

  Earl stood waiting, the sun hot on his back, beads of perspiration rising on his forehead, and his stomach tied in knots. It seemed like forever until he heard the shuffling of footsteps coming toward him.

  Pauline opened the door and smiled. “Yes?” She was as pale as a ghost and so thin it looked as though a stiff breeze could blow her away.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Earl said, “but I’m looking for Bobby Doherty and thought…”

  Raising a hand to block the sun, Pauline glanced up. “You don’t look well. You all right?”

  He gave a nod and swiped at the beads of perspiration. “Just real warm.”

  “Well, no wonder. Here it is October and still a hundred degrees out there. Come inside; I’ll pour us a cool glass of lemonade.” She pulled the door back and made way for Earl to enter.

  “I can’t stay,” he said, following her into the
kitchen. “I’m trying to find Bobby Doherty, and since you’ve got the same last name I thought maybe you’d know him and—”

  “Bobby? I most certainly do. I’ve known him for ages. His daddy, Harold, was first cousin to my Elgin.” She handed him a glass of lemonade and pulled out a chair. “Sit,” she said, then dropped down in the chair on the opposite side of the table. “So how come you’re looking for Bobby?”

  This time the question did not come as a surprise; Earl was ready. Smooth as molasses sliding off a spoon, he told the story of how he was working on a memorial for his kid brother. Adding one final flourish, he said, “I just know Bobby would want to be there.”

  Pauline gave a lingering sigh and held her hand to her heart. “That’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Not wanting to blow it by appearing overanxious, Earl hesitated a second then asked if she could give him Bobby’s address.

  “I would if I could,” she said. “But he moved two years back, and I don’t think I’ve got the new address.” She stood, crossed the kitchen, pulled a drawer open, and began rifling through a pile of papers. “I might have saved the envelope from last year’s Christmas card, and if so, this is where I would have put it.”

  The anxiety spread across Earl’s chest like an army of red ants. “Bobby move someplace in Florida?”

  “Uh-huh. West of here. A town with some tropical-sounding name. You’ve gotta wonder why anyone would give a town out in the middle of nowhere such a fancy name. From what Bobby said, I think it’d be better if they called it Nowheresville or maybe Lost Lakes…”

  Pauline’s senseless chatter caused Earl to start sweating again. His shirt was stuck to his back, and he could smell the stink of himself. He was a hair’s breadth away from grabbing the drawer and dumping the contents onto the table where he could sort through them when she turned with a grin.

  “Found it,” she said and waved a red envelope in the air.

  No longer worrying about whether or not he seemed overanxious, he snatched the envelope from her hand and eyed the return address. Sure enough, it read Bob Doherty, 1476 Hibiscus Cove, Piney Acres, Florida.