A Skeleton in the Family Page 17

  “You also have a daughter who deserves a home and a father.”

  “Stop right there,” I said, no longer willing to play. “I have always given Madison everything she needs, and that is not going to change.”

  She must have realized she’d gone too far, because I got one of her rare apologies. “Sorry.” Deborah’s apologies were always brief, perhaps because she had so little practice. Then she went back for a do-over. “So I hear you’re seeing a new guy. Is he hot?”

  “Do you want it in Fahrenheit or centigrade?”

  “How about in English? Which I believe you’re supposed to know something about.”

  “Touché. He is pretty hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, nice butt.”

  “Madison mentioned the butt.”

  “He writes for the Gazette full-time and teaches at McQuaid part-time.”

  “He’s not afraid of work. I like that.”

  I ran down the other specs I knew she’d be interested in: family, hobbies, pets, political leanings, and romantic history as far as I knew it. “It’s early days yet, but I like him. He’s funny, and he treats Madison well.”

  “He’d better,” she said firmly.

  “Damn straight.”

  “So have you . . . ? Are you going to . . . ? Have you planned how to . . . ?”

  “Deborah, are you trying to ask me if I’ve had sex with Fletcher?”

  “God, no! I just wanted to know what you’re going to do about your friend in the attic.”

  “Of course I haven’t told him about Sid! I’ve never told anybody about Sid.”

  “Then what are you planning to do about him? Not necessarily with this guy, but say you do meet the right guy and want to get married. Then what?”

  “If I meet Mr. Right, I’ll tell him. Not on the first date, but eventually. When it’s a good time.”

  “When is a good time to tell a man about a walking, talking skeleton?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t met the right guy yet.”

  “You never told Reggie.”

  “A good thing, too.” I shuddered to think what my former fiancé would have done with that knowledge. In retrospect, my reluctance to share the secret of Sid should have been a clue that some part of me knew the relationship wasn’t healthy. “Anyway, I don’t want a guy I wouldn’t be willing to introduce to Sid.”

  “Meanwhile, while you’re looking for this guy of your dreams, you stick Mom and Phil with the job of taking care of the skeleton.”

  “One, they don’t mind. Two, this is Sid’s home, too—he’s part of the family.”

  “He’s not part of the family, Georgia. He’s a freak of nature.”

  “As long as we’re all happy with the status quo, why do you care?”

  “Because I care about my parents. They’ve kept this big house years longer than they intended to just to make sure that they can keep that thing hidden.”

  “They never said anything to me about wanting to sell the house.”

  “You’re not around as much as I am. Besides, they aren’t getting any younger. What happens to the skeleton when they’re gone? Don’t expect me to take it.”

  “Sid will always have a home with me.”

  “You say that now, but you sure didn’t mind dumping him when you moved away.”

  “As if I could have taken him to a one-bedroom apartment with a toddler he didn’t want seeing him.”

  “And what about Madison? We don’t know if it will ever die. You want Madison to be an old lady with a skeleton in her armoire, not ever being able to get married for fear of him being found out?”

  “Jesus, Deborah, having Sid around has never affected Madison! Why do you hate him so much, anyway?”

  “I don’t hate him. I just don’t want him holding you back.”

  That was when Madison yelled up the stairs. “Are you guys fighting? Am I going to have to separate you two?”

  “We aren’t fighting,” I lied. “Your aunt just doesn’t approve of my friends.”

  “It’s not a friend,” Deborah said. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a friend.”

  I ignored her and went downstairs to wait for Fletcher. If I hadn’t been so mad at my sister, I might have noticed the slight sounds from the attic. By the time I realized that Sid had heard every word we’d said, it was almost too late.

  32

  All in all, the date went very well. The dinner was good, the banter light and a touch suggestive without being vulgar, and in between bouts of banter had come some real conversation. Had I been asked to provide a score, I’d have given it an 8.5 out of 10. Whether or not I raised the rating would depend on the quality of the necking that took place once we got back to the house. That was assuming that necking was part of Fletcher’s lesson plan. It was definitely part of mine.

  Unfortunately my cell phone rang when we were halfway to the house.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’d better see who that is.”

  “No problem—it might be your daughter.” That got him up to 9.0.

  Only when I looked at the caller ID, it wasn’t Madison—it was Charles Peyton. Since I couldn’t imagine Charles calling at that time of night without it being important, I took the call. “Charles?”

  “Georgia?” he said in a weak voice that didn’t sound like him at all. “I find myself in need of assistance, and fear there is nobody else I can call.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been injured. If you could come by my abode . . .” His voice faded away.

  “Charles? Charles!” There was no response, though I thought I could hear him breathing.

  “What’s the matter?” Fletcher asked.

  “That was Charles. He’s been hurt. I’ve got to get out to McQuaid.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “Yes, please,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was roam around campus alone at night, plus I was afraid of what we’d find. I’d encountered one dead body in the recent past, and my stomach clenched at the thought of a repeat. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  “Always. Standard reporter training.”

  Reporter training must also have included driving lessons—Fletcher got us to the main entrance of the campus in half the time I’d have taken.

  The guard on duty spotted the faculty hang tag and waved us through, but Fletcher started to slow down.

  “Don’t stop!” I said.

  “Shouldn’t we tell him about Charles?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you think Charles was playing some sort of trick?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “Which building?”

  For a moment I was at a loss, but then remembered seeing Charles coming out of an office the day I’d taken Sid to be examined by Yo.

  “Easton Hall.”

  I had my ID card out before the car stopped, and hopped out to run for the front entrance. I swiped the card in the lock, opened the door, and waited impatiently while Fletcher found his first aid kit. As he caught up, I took off down the hall. The door to the office where I expected to find Charles was open, and I called out to my friend as I went. There was no reply.

  When I finally got to the doorway, I saw Charles with his face down on the desk. There was a dark mat of blood on the back of his head. I froze for a moment, remembering the sight of Dr. Kirkland’s body, and Fletcher pushed past me, clearly better than I was in a crisis

  “Talk to me, Charles,” he said. “How bad are you hurt?”

  The older man stirred, and I suddenly remembered that it had been too long since I’d taken a breath.

  “Oh, it’s all bad, I assure you,” Charles said. “I never consider any form of hurt to be good.”

  A giggle slipped out of me, though it was definitely the wrong time for it.


  Charles looked up, and while his face was much too pale, his voice sounded better than it had on the phone. “I see that I must humbly apologize for interrupting your tête-à-tête.”

  I said, “What you must do is tell me what happened. Did you fall?”

  “Assuredly, but only after I was struck.”

  “What? By who?”

  “By whom,” he corrected me. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I was taking an evening constitutional when I saw someone moving around in the adjunct’s office. My first thought was that some poor soul had an onerous assignment that had to be completed, so I intended to offer my assistance. The intruder undoubtedly heard me coming, because I was whistling so as not to startle anyone. As I went in the room, the light went out and I felt a blow to my head—he must have concealed himself behind the door to lie in wait.

  “And you didn’t see who it was?”

  He shook his head, then winced, apparently regretting the motion. “I heard running footsteps, and that was all. When I could walk again, I made my way back here.”

  “Why didn’t you call security?” Fletcher wanted to know. “Or pull the alarm?”

  Charles hesitated, then said, “Do you suppose I could trouble you for a drink of water? I have some in the refrigerator over there.”

  “Of course.” I found a bottle, opened it, and handed it to him.

  He drank thirstily.

  “Georgia?” Fletcher said, looking mystified.

  “Charles,” I said, “will you be all right for a moment? I need to talk to Fletcher.”

  Charles looked anxious, but nodded.

  I took Fletcher by the arm and pulled him out into the hall. “Okay, here’s the situation. Charles didn’t call security because he was afraid it would come out why he was on campus at this time of night.”

  “So why was he here?”

  “Because he lives here. In that office.”

  “What?”

  “Charles is a squatter. He doesn’t make enough money to live on, at least not the way he wants to live, so he finds places he can stay on campus. That office belongs to a guy who’s in the field for the semester—when he comes back, Charles will find another place to live.”

  “What about the clothes and—”

  “At some point he realized he had to make a choice between living in some dump, wearing clothing he’d be ashamed to be seen in, or squatting and dressing like a gentleman. He likes the clothes.”

  “How long has he been doing this?”

  “Ever since I’ve known him.”

  “But—how does he—?”

  “Fletcher, I don’t know every detail, and it doesn’t matter right now anyway. What matters is getting him medical attention.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Charles, who’d managed to stagger to the doorway. “Fletcher, I must apologize again, this time for making you a party to my deception. I only hope you can find it in your heart to help me maintain my illusions.”

  I would never have guessed that Charles would be capable of making puppy-dog eyes, but he did an excellent job of it right then. Fletcher didn’t have a chance, especially not when I added my own look of entreaty.

  “Hey, it’s none of my business,” he said. “You’re not hurting anybody as far as I can see.”

  “Your discretion is a great gift,” Charles said, “as were your efforts in aiding me. I thank you both for your assistance, but I’m feeling quite well now.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to see a doctor,” I said.

  “I have no physician I can trust, and certainly none I can afford.”

  That was enough to stop me, too. I couldn’t afford to pay for him to go to the emergency room.

  “Let me take another look at that head,” Fletcher said. “I rode in an ambulance one summer and got pretty good at patching up minor injuries.”

  “I would be in your debt,” Charles said with his customary bow.

  Fletcher made Charles stand by the light while he looked at his eyes. Then he carefully examined the older man’s scalp. “It’s not too bad,” he finally said. “A doctor would probably put in a stitch or two, but I think you can get by with a butterfly bandage. It might leave a scar, but nobody’s going to see a scar under all this hair anyway.”

  “I have been blessed with generous locks,” Charles agreed.

  I was no more a nurse than Fletcher was a doctor, but I’d managed to survive Madison’s clumsier periods when I’d had to buy Band-Aids by the crate, so I was able to assist him as he trimmed Charles’s hair around the wound, spread on antibiotic cream, and applied a bandage.

  Once he was done, Fletcher said, “I bet you’ve got a hell of a headache, but I don’t think you should take anything for it. You don’t have any signs of concussion, but—”

  “I can endure,” Charles said. “A good night’s rest is all I need to make myself right, and the sofa in here is surprisingly comfortable.”

  “The spare bed at my house is even more comfortable,” I said in what Madison calls my mother-knows-best voice. “Don’t even try to argue with me. You either come home with me, where I can make sure you’re okay, or I’m going to call 911. Your choice.”

  He looked at me for a moment, but knew when he was beaten. “Fletcher, I confess I don’t feel up to driving, so could I prevail on you for transportation to Georgia’s home?”

  Fletcher hesitated, and I flattered myself that it was because he’d been hoping to take advantage of Madison’s absence for some physical affection. Or maybe it was just because he was worried about blood on his upholstery. No matter which it was, he said, “No problem.” He took one of Charles’s arms and I took the other to help the older man along.

  Despite his protests, Charles was pretty wobbly on the way to Fletcher’s car, and we all breathed a sigh of relief when we got him into the back seat. Conversation was sparse during the drive to my house—Charles was in pain, Fletcher was concentrating on avoiding jostles, and I was all out of banter.

  Charles did seem to be moving more easily when we got to my house, and only needed Fletcher to help him out of the car, into the house, and up the stairs to the spare bedroom. At pointed looks from the two men, I stepped out into the hall so Fletcher could help him into bed. I didn’t know how fresh the sheets were, but I was sure that the bed would be worlds more comfortable than a sagging couch.

  Only when Charles was tucked into bed, the comforter covering every part of him other than his head and a racy bit of shoulder, did Fletcher let me back into the room. While waiting, I’d brought up a glass of ice water to put on the nightstand next to the bed.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you?” I asked Charles.

  “Dear lady, you have already done far more than I could ever have expected.”

  “What are friends for? Call if you need me—I’m two doors down on the left.”

  “Are you quite certain you don’t mind my being here? I worry about your reputation if any of our colleagues find out I’ve spent the night at your home.”

  “I’ll risk it.” Besides, we had a chaperone. There’d been enough creaks from the attic to let me know that Sid was on the job. “You get some rest.”

  Fletcher and I left him alone, and I suspected he was asleep by the time we got to the front hall. I said, “I’d ask you to stay for a nightcap, but under the circumstances—”

  “Finding an assault victim tends to kill the mood.”

  “Yeah, kind of. Thanks for helping me with him.”

  “No problem. I’m just embarrassed that I’d never figured out his living arrangements. What with being in the observing-and-investigating business and all.”

  “Charles has had a lot of practice hiding the truth.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Purely by accident. When I was working at
Tufts, an old friend of my parents was on sabbatical and said I could use her office, and I found Charles in residence. We compromised by sharing the office for the rest of the year. You won’t tell anybody, will you?”

  “Of course not. But don’t you think that somebody in security should be told about the assault? What if somebody else is attacked?”

  “I didn’t even think of that.” I rubbed my forehead. “Maybe we can find signs tomorrow that somebody was in the adjunct office and report that?”

  “How about an anonymous tip from a student who saw somebody in there?”

  “Perfect!”

  “I’ll call it in on the way home.”

  I thought that deserved a kiss, so I delivered it. Apparently Fletcher thought something I’d done deserved a kiss, too, and he took care of that. Then we both decided we needed yet another kiss, and attended to the situation. Before either of us could decide on paying bonuses, I stepped back from him and opened the front door. Okay, there was one last kiss, but it was quick.

  Once Fletcher was gone, I peeked in on Charles to make sure he was solidly asleep. Then, hearing an insistent tap-tap-tap from the attic, I opened the door to find Sid on the other side, tapping his foot.

  “What the phalanges is going on out there?”

  “Shush!” I whispered an explanation, ending with, “I know it’s awkward having a stranger in the house, but I couldn’t very well leave Charles at the college alone after that.”

  “It’s just for the night, right?”

  “That’s the plan. Sorry I couldn’t warn you ahead of time.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not crazy about your office being burgled, though.”

  “It’s not my office—there are twenty-something other people who use that office.”

  “Still. Finding dead bodies—”

  “One dead body.”

  “Finding any dead bodies is alarming. Burglars, break-ins . . . Pennycross is getting to be a dangerous place for a woman and a child.”

  “Fortunately I have you around to keep an eye on us.” I patted him on the clavicle. “I’m going to bed. I want to be awake before Charles.”