Part 20 (1/2)
”Well, Abby here fell into the pool, and my husband jumped in to try to save her. But he couldn't swim. I just keep wondering how the locked gate to our pool got opened. At first I thought it was my son . . .”
”Dylan.”
”Dylan, right.”
”Speaking of Dylan,” said Nicole, ”is he okay? I heard about . . . you know.” She drew her index finger partway across her neck and grimaced.
Dan raised his eyebrows curiously but didn't ask.
”He's still in the hospital,” said Keely, marveling at the information pipeline among teenagers. ”But he's doing better. The thing is, he wasn't the one who left the gate open, and I just know my husband wouldn't have been that careless, so I'm trying to figure out how it got open like that.”
”Well,Ididn't do it,” Nicole protested.
”No, honey,” said Dan patiently. ”Mrs. Weaver isn't suggesting that you did it. She just wants to know if you happened to see anyone else at her house that night.”
”A car in the driveway? Anything . . .” Keely pleaded.
Nicole frowned and shook her head. ”No. I didn't go out that night at all. I've got an unbelievable ton of homework this year.”
Keely pressed her lips together and nodded. ”I was just hoping . . .”
”Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” said Nicole. ”I ordered a pizza that night for dinner, and the delivery guy took forever. He told me he went to the wrong house first.”
Keely's heart began to pound. ”Thatisa possibility. It could have been my house. Our deliveries are always getting mixed up.”
Dan nodded. ”Sure. That's how we met.”
”Do you remember where you ordered it from?” Keely asked.
”Just a sec,” said Nicole. She went over to the telephone and rummaged in a sheaf of menus, notes, and pads on the counter beside it. ”Here it is. Tarantino's.”
She held out a sheet of paper, and Keely took it gratefully. ”Thank you,” she said. ”It gives me something to go on. I really appreciate it.”
”No problem,” said Nicole brightly.
”Okay, Abby,” said Keely. ”Now we really do have to go. We've bothered these nice people enough.”
”No bother at all,” Dan insisted.
”And really, if you need somebody to take care of Abby, just call me,” said Nicole, ” 'cause I do a lot of baby-sitting.”
”She's very responsible,” said Dan.
”Thanks,” said Keely, clutching the paper tightly. ”Really. For everything.”
”Not at all,” said Dan. He walked back toward the front door with them. ”Maybe now we'll get to know you,” he said.
Keely nodded in agreement. There was no use in saying that she wasn't planning to stay in St. Vincent's Harbor a minute more than she had to.
22.
NO STROLLERS ALLOWED.A handwritten sign on the door to Tarantino's Pizza read.All right,Keely thought, and she bent over and lifted Abby into her arms. ”Come on,” she whispered. She left the stroller on the sidewalk under an awning and pushed open the door. She was met by the mingled smells of garlic, tomato sauce, and molten cheese. There were two teenage boys seated at one of the scattered Formica-topped tables in the narrow restaurant; a man was in a booth reading the newspaper, a paper cup on the table in front of him. Keely walked up to the counter, jiggling Abby in her arms. There was no one to be seen in front of the metal doors to the brick ovens. She could hear loud voices, male and female, arguing in the kitchen in back.
Abby fretted, wanting to get down and explore. Keely glanced down at the dingy floor and shook her head. ”Stay with Mommy,” she said, leaning over the counter to see if she could catch anyone's eye. ”I'll be as quick as I can. Here, play with this,” said Keely, reaching into her pocketbook and pulling out a chain of plastic keys. Abby began to shake them and chew on them contentedly.
The arguing couple were hidden from view. Normally, Keely would have waited politely, trying to clear her throat loudly enough to be noticed, but today she couldn't wait. ”h.e.l.lo,” she called out. ”Can someone help me?”
The voices in the back fell silent, and then a short, attractive young woman with curly black hair emerged from the door to the kitchen. She was wearing a white T-s.h.i.+rt and a long white ap.r.o.n withGINAembroidered on the pocket. Gina's high-cheekboned face broke into a pleasant grin at the sight of the baby. ”How ya doin'?” she asked. ”What can I get ya?”
Keely took a deep breath. ”Actually, uh, I'm not here to order anything. My name is Keely Weaver. I'm looking for your delivery man. I'm trying to locate a fellow who was delivering pizza in my neighborhood a few weeks ago. Can you find out who that would be?”
The woman immediately looked wary. ”Just a minute.” She turned and hollered back into the kitchen. ”Patsy, c'mere.”
A tall, swarthy man came out of the kitchen. ”What?” he demanded, not glancing at Keely. ”Whaddaya want?”
Gina inclined her head in Keely's direction. ”Can you talk to this lady? She's asking about Wade.”
Pat eyed Keely. ”What'd he do?” he asked bluntly.
”Nothing. He didn't do anything,” Keely said, rus.h.i.+ng to rea.s.sure him. ”I just wanted to ask him something.”
”About what?” the man demanded. ”Is this a police matter?”
”No, not at all,” Keely said.
” 'Cause we don't want no trouble,” Pat said.
”No, it's nothing like that. It's . . . it seems that one of my neighbors ordered a pizza and the deliveryman had some trouble finding their house. And this all happened the same night that my husband was killed in an accident.”
”Killed,” Gina yelped. ”What do you mean? Like an auto accident? Did Wade hit him or something? Oh my G.o.d.”
”No, no, he didn't have anything to do with it. It's just that my neighbor said your deliveryman stopped at the wrong house, and I was wondering if it might have been my house. I was hoping he might have seen something or . . . someone . . .”
Gina frowned. ”I don't get it. Seen what?”
Keely reddened. Both the man and woman were regarding her suspiciously now.
”Look, this is just a personal question I want to ask him. It has nothing to do with his job here.”
”He's not here,” said the man bluntly.
”If you want to give me your name . . .” Gina offered. Pat shot her a warning look, but she pretended not to see it. ”I can tell him to call you.”
Keely hesitated, then s.h.i.+fted Abby from one arm to the other andbegan to fish in her pocketbook for a pad and pencil. ”Will he be coming in soon?” she asked.
Gina glanced at Pat, who was glowering. ”I'm not sure,” she said.