Part 18 (1/2)

I struggle out of the chaise longue. I need to stand and pace or run away. I need to do something with the adrenaline dump into my system. I'm still in the shade but everything is hot again. I repeat what Ellen said, just to get the facts straight like a good detective should. ”You saw Kelly with Tim.”

Ellen opens the grill's lid, and gray smoke escapes and makes a run for it. She crosses her arms, knotting them into a life jacket. Then she takes off her gla.s.ses and hides her eyes. I might not be able to find them.

She says, ”It was early evening, and it was already dark. I was leaving Harbor Point to meet my friends on Carson Beach. I'd stolen a quarter bottle of gin from the top of our refrigerator. I got busted later, when I came home drunk.

”I was fourteen. I remember running down the front steps, hiding the bottle in my fat winter coat even though it was summer. I was so proud of myself and thought I was so smart. Well, there was Tim and the girl, arm in arm, walking through the parking lot. He was holding her up, really. She was obviously drunk or high and couldn't walk. I had no idea who she was. She was so skinny and pale.

”Tim said, 'Hey, Ellen.' Then he smiled. It wasn't a good smile. It was a smile I used to get from the boys who snapped my bra strap or grabbed my a.s.s when I wasn't looking. I didn't say anything back to him. That Kelly looked at me but she couldn't focus. She giggled and rested her head on Tim's shoulder. Then they just stumbled away, into the building.

”I invited you down today to tell you this, Mark.” Ellen closes the lid on the grill and the smoke goes back into hiding.

I don't know what to think, but I'm angry. I probably shouldn't be. ”Why didn't you tell anybody else?”

”I told the police. I told them as soon as I saw the pictures of her. I just didn't tell you.”

My anger evaporates instantly and leaves only sadness. Sadness for us and for everything. The truth is sadness. I walk over toward Ellen and the grill and say, ”Why didn't you tell me?”

Ellen isn't hiding her eyes anymore. I get the double barrel. ”You kept that case a secret from me. You kept everything he did from me.”

”I told you everything I knew once I'd solved the case.”

”Only because you had to, Mark. Would you have told me anything if you managed to solve your case without destroying the shed and setting my building on fire?”

I take off my hat and scratch my head. ”Yeah, Ellen. Of course I would've told you.”

Ellen turns away and opens the grill again. The chicken hisses and steams. It's done. She plucks the meat off the grill with tongs, then dumps on the barbecue sauce. She says, ”I know, Mark. I'm sorry. I'm not being fair. But I'm still so angry. I wish you'd told me about what was going on earlier.”

”I didn't want to say anything until I knew exactly what had happened. There was no guarantee I was going to figure it all out. Giving you the bits and pieces and then living with the doubt would've been worse.”

Ellen breathes in sharp, ready to go on offense again, but then she exhales slowly and shakes her head. She says, ”I've tried telling myself that it wasn't Kelly I saw with Tim that night. Maybe I'm just putting that face from those pictures onto someone else's body. It's possible, right?” She pauses and fiddles with the burner k.n.o.bs. ”I do know that just a few days after I saw him with that girl, Tim stopped hanging around with Times and Sullivan and started chasing after me. He was a different kid. He wasn't obnoxious and loud and c.o.c.ky like the rest of them. He got real quiet, listened way more than he talked. At the time, I thought it was because of some puppy-love crush he had on me. Jesus Christ, I thought he was acting like that because of me. Ridiculous, right?”

Ellen talks just above a whisper but waves the spatula over her head and sc.r.a.pes the blue sky. ”Now, I don't know what to think. Did he only start pursuing me and dating me because of what happened, because of what he did? Was he using me to hide his guilt, to try and somehow make up for that night, to try and become some person that he wasn't? What do you think, Mark? I want to know. I have to know. Can you answer any of those questions for me, Mr. Private Detective?”

I could tell her that maybe it was her and that she somehow saved Tim, redeemed him. But she knows the truth; I can't answer any of those questions. No one can. I don't even try.

I say, ”I'm sorry, Ellen,” and I give her a hug. She accepts it grudgingly. It's the best I can do.

Ellen releases me quick. ”Let's eat before the flies and yellow jackets find us.”

So we sit outside, next to each other on adjacent chaise longues, and eat our barbecued chicken and hot dogs. We don't talk because we don't know what to say anymore. When we finish eating we each smoke a cigarette. The filters are pinched tight between our fingers. We're afraid to let go.