Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [23]
“You know what? I love it here. When I first came home after school, I thought I’d just get my act together and head out again. I didn’t think I’d stay for good, but once I took a breather and looked around, I loved a lot about this town.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, geez,” Ty said, as if there were too many things. “I love the beach, the people, the way everybody knows me and the way anyone would help me if I needed it. I love the crazy summers when the bars are packed and people are crawling all over my place, and I love it when the fall ends too, and it gets quiet. It’s like having the best of both worlds—parties and crowds for five months, R & R the rest of the year.”
I nodded. I liked the picture he painted. There was never a respite from the teeming people or the noise in Manhattan.
Ty waved to a woman walking her dog on the other side of the street, then shifted in his chair so he faced me directly. The sun picked up the freckles that dotted his cheekbones. “So you were how old when you lived here?” he said.
“We left when I was seven. I remember school the most. The playground and Mrs. Howard, my first-grade teacher. I went to Dunes Primary.” It occurred to me that maybe I’d been at the same school as Ty. “Maybe we were there together?”
“No, I went to St. Bonaventure, or St. Bonnie’s as we called it. Twelve years of Catholic repression for this kid.” Ty glanced down for a second. “I think I remember you, though, or at least hearing about you.”
“You do?” Despite the sun on my skin, I felt goose bumps prickle the back of my arms.
Ty watched me. “Your mom died, didn’t she? When you lived here?”
“That’s right.”
“I remember that. I saw a picture of your family that was taken at the funeral.”
“Where did you see it?” Maybe it had been in the paper, something I could dig up.
Ty scratched his jaw, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time since I met him. “I saw it in my dad’s office.”
“Your dad? Who’s your dad?”
“He’s the chief of police.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, after a moment spent digesting Ty’s words. My stomach felt slightly ill, but there was a tickle of excitement. “This picture you saw was in the police station?”
Ty nodded.
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t know all the details. I was just a kid too, but…” He trailed off.
“Look, I don’t know much about my mom’s death,” I said. “It’s why I’m here. So please, just tell me what you know.”
A look of surprise came over Ty’s face, and I realized I might have spoken a little harshly.
“I’m sorry.” I leaned toward him. “I had a case in Chicago last week. I’m an attorney. But the point is, I came here to see what I could find out about my mother’s death. Anything you could tell me would be a help.”
“Wow.” Ty shook his head. “That’s tough. But as I said, I don’t know much. What I recall is waiting for my dad in his office at the station. It was a big day for me because he was going to take me to get my uniform and equipment so I could start football. My dad wasn’t the chief then. He was assistant chief. Anyway, I was playing around his desk, and when he came in, I was holding that picture. There was a coffin being moved into the ground, and your family stood around it. You had on a long yellow coat.”
I nodded. My Easter coat, the one my mom had picked out for me.
“When my dad saw me with the picture,” Ty continued, “he stopped, pointed to the coffin and said, ‘Do you know what that is?’ I told him there was somebody who was dead in there. He said, ‘That’s right. A dead lady, and I’m going to find out who killed her.’”
I took a breath. “But they never charged anyone, did they?”
He shook his head again. “My dad told me sometime later that he’d been wrong, that no one had killed her or meant for her to die.”
I felt a little gust of relief. If the police had ruled out murder, then maybe whoever had sent me the letter was simply mistaken. “Would your dad talk about this?”
“I think so. I mean, I don’t see why not. He’s fishing this weekend. He won’t be back until tomorrow night. Will you still be around?”
I didn