Richard Laymon - The Lake
The flowers were standing in the sink.
“Wow, Mom. Who sent those? Don’t tell me. Your new friend, ta-dah: Detective Mace Harrison!”
“Right the first time, hon,” Leigh said, ignoring Deana’s last remark. “They’re from Mace. Aren’t they just beautiful?”
Deana stared at the bunch of flowers. Exotic pink orchids mixed with sprays of white freesias. Still encased in their cellophane wrapper and tied with a pink satin bow.
Some bouquet.
Puzzled, she looked at Leigh.
“I had no idea things had gotten so far. So soon.”
Leigh smiled dreamily. “You better believe it, hon. Mace and I are getting along very well. He’s so kind and thoughtful. It’s been ages since anyone gave me flowers like these.”
Leigh disappeared into the utility room, busying around finding a vase large enough to hold the flowers. Moments later, she reappeared with a tall, elegant one, decorated with a blue and white Chinese design.
Removing the bow and cellophane, she began arranging the blooms to her liking. She hummed a tune to herself.
Deana couldn’t remember seeing her this happy—so bright-eyed and her cheeks all flushed like those of a teenager in love.
Warning bells rang.
Mom’s got it bad.
Worse than bad, she had this sinking feeling that Mom was more than “getting along very well” with Mace.
Leigh stepped back to admire her display and caught Deana’s expression. A worried frown clouded her face.
“Deana, honey. Smile, please. Be happy for me.”
“Sure thing, Mom. I’m thrilled for you. Really.”
Choked, Deana turned away. She went to her bedroom and closed the door.
So Mace had been here again last night.
Jeez. What an asshole. Bringing flowers, like that. He probably stayed the night.
A thought occurred.
If he was here overnight, did he hear me come in this morning?
Count on it.
Mace is a cop. A real pro. And they say cops on a case never sleep. Right?
And from what Mattie said, Mace was pretty much joined at the hip to his job.
Maybe he heard me come in this morning and decided not to tell Mom. Like he’s saving the news to blackmail me later…
I should tell Mom about Warren.
Before Mace does…
She’d be real worried, knowing about my midnight trysts.
She’d worry herself sick…
God. That’s the last thing she needs, what with Nelson still on the loose and everything.
After I’d promised I wouldn’t leave the house, wander off without her knowing.
I’ll have to tell her about Warren.
Before Mace gets there first.
She’d never forgive me if that happened.
Her mind in a turmoil, Deana returned to the kitchen.
Leigh was still lingering over the flowers.
Deana cleared her throat.
“Mom. I have something to tell you. You’re not going to like it…”
“Oh? What is it, honey?”
Mom looks so radiant. So happy.
I can’t spoil it for her.
“Mom,” she began. Hating herself. Knowing she was about to chicken out of telling the truth. “I’m really happy for you. If this is what you want, I hope it works out for you and Mace.”
Christ.
I’m such a liar.
A deceitful, scheming bitch lying her way out of a seriously tricky situation.
I could say I met Warren accidentally. That might take her mind off Mace for a while.
She pictured what would happen when she told Mom about Warren.
“And where did you meet him, honey? We both agreed you should stay in the house, not go out unless I was with you…Yes, I know it’s hard, Deana…Oh. You met him when you were out running…”
A pregnant pause.
Then: “AT NIGHT???”
Yeah.
Can you just imagine it?
Finito. No more midnight runs.
Door key confiscated.
Chained to the bed—till Mace nails Nelson…
Yeah. Great.
Like sometime, never—that’s when Mace’ll nail Nelson. Just so he can hang around Mom some more. If Nelson’s still around to nail, that is.
“Mom. Was Mace here last night?”
“I told you he was, dear.”
“Yeah, I know he visited last night, Mom. Like late. But when did he leave? Did he spend the night here?”
Leigh blushed.
Deana cringed. She hated embarrassing her mom like this.
“Okay, Deana. Yes. He called me after you’d gone to bed. And we talked…
“In the end, as we had so much to discuss, I asked him to come on over.”
“Mom!”
Her hunch was right, then.
Mace had been in the house when she came back from seeing Warren.
Could be they were both awake when I arrived home.
In the early hours.
Two twenty-five, to be precise.
Christ!
So Mace could’ve heard me come in!
But Mom hadn’t?
If she had, she’d have asked me about it first thing this morning.
“Where did he get the flowers from?” Deana demanded, borrowing time, not quite knowing what to say next. “That time of night?”
“Woke up old Fess Winters, the florist on Main Street. Told him he wanted the biggest bunch of the most expensive flowers he’d got. And here they are. Mace is so romantic, isn’t he?”
Yeah. A pretty impulsive guy.
Bet Old Man Winters thought so, too.
Nice going, Mace.
No wonder Mom looks so dreamy, so starry-eyed this morning.
Orchids for the lady.
I think I’m gonna throw up.
THIRTY
When Leigh left for the restaurant, Deana leafed through the telephone directory for Warren’s home number.
She came up with zilch. Ditto the Eureka Bookstore.
Should have asked him for his card.
Would’ve made things a whole lot easier.
Well, I didn’t, did I?
Good thing, too.
I can see it now…
Phone up this guy you hardly know, tell him the detective from Mill Valley PD stayed with Mom last night. Remember, the one I told you about? Yeah, that one.
And he’d say, “Okay? So what business is this of mine? Moms have a right to private lives, too, y’know.”
Deana replaced the phone book in its alcove.
Wandering aimlessly into the living room, she stared through the glass wall at the panorama below.
The day spread out before her like an empty, rainwashed sky.
What shall I do?
Read a book?
What book?
How about I ring Eureka and order, say, Get Shorty by Elmore Leonard.
The mad adventures of small-time Miami loan shark Chili Palmer, Miss…er, sorry, I didn’t catch your name?
Yes. That’s the one. Please express it over to me.
Oh, and thanks for your trouble, Mr. Hastings.
Or maybe she should watch daytime TV?
Yawn.
A video?
There’s always Reservoir Dogs.
She’d seen it before. Twice.
Good film, but boring old diamond heists and Harvey Keitel weren’t exactly what she was looking for right now.
What about…
She rushed to the hallway. Grabbed the phone book and looked up “Hastings.”
Dummy!
Warren was new to Del Mar a couple of days ago, so his name wouldn’t be listed yet.
Three blocks away. That would probably make it in the three hundred and sixties…
And under the name of the last occupant.
She’d never work it out that way.
Shit.
Maybe she had enough to occupy her mind, thinking about Mace calling Mom, telling her I was out last night…
Leigh, darling. Did you know your daughter was out there on Del Mar, seeing some guy?
He’d just love that…
As she went to her bedroom, Deana pictured Warren’s kitchen. Cozy. Friendly. Smelling of pot roast…
And Sabre, harboring dark thoughts beneath the kitchen sink.
Some dog, that.
Dangerous.
At least he rescued my cap for me.
Cap.
She’d tossed it, and her black sweats, into the hamper. They sure could do with a wash, after all that excitement.
Probably stink like hell.
“That’s what I’ll do while Mom’s out,” she decided. “Wash my black things. Get them dried and put away before she sees them.”
Deana opened the hamper. Dragged out her sweats.
Her knitted cap fell to the floor.
So did Warren’s card.
Showing his business address and a scribbled phone number on the reverse.
His home number!
“Eureka!”
Must have put it inside her cap before he handed it to her. When he scrabbled about in the cupboard under the kitchen sink.
Smart guy.
Now what?
Call the number, dummy. Even if he’s not home, his sister will be…
A squirm of excitement stirred between her legs.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a boring day after all.
Do it, Deana. Go for it.
She sat on the bed, dialing out the number on her extension line.
Brrinngg…Brrinngg.
“Yeah. The Hastings residence…”
The woman’s voice was deep, brisk. Businesslike.
For someone who didn’t get home till five-thirty a.m., this sure was some together lady…
“Er…May I speak with Warren, please?”
“Who’s asking.” A statement. Not a question.
“A friend. Just say, the midnight runner. He’ll know who it is.”
At the other end, Sheena gasped. A shiver played up and down her spine.
It was back.
Her premonition.
Deana heard the phone slap down onto a hard surface.
Silence. Then, in the background:
“Hey, bro. Gal here says she’s the midnight runner.”
Deana blushed.
My God.
Sounds like I’m some kind of weirdo.
Giving out code names over the phone.
Silence.
More conversation in the background. Garbled now. Farther away.
Then Warren’s voice, slightly breathless.
“Hi. You just caught me…To what do I owe the pleasure? So soon.”
Deana heard the smile behind his words.
She felt foolish, not quite knowing why she’d called.
Of course she knew.
She’d called for the hell of it, hadn’t she?
No, not that.
What she’d really called Warren for was to talk about Mace.
Come to think of it, what could she say about Mace without being a traitor to Mom?
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Sure…Hi, Warren,” she said weakly. “Sorry to bother you. Tell me I’m a nuisance.”
“No, I won’t. What is it, my midnight lady? Hey. What’s your name, anyway? Can’t keep coming over all Shakespearean. It’s enough to take the edge off any budding friendship.”
“Deana. Deana West.”
“Deana. Mmm. Nice name. So…Deana. How can I help?”
He sounded calm, sensible. Understanding.
She snuffled, feeling hot tears well up.
“Why don’t I come over there? Cheer you up a little?”
“That’d be great, Warren, if you could. What about Eureka? Shouldn’t you be there by now?”
“There’s nothing spoiling back at the store. A quick call and my trusty assistant will open up. She has a key.”
She?
Deana suddenly felt too tired, too exhausted to talk or even think anymore. The events of the last few days, never mind Mace being in the house last night, were just about all she could handle at the moment.
“I’d like that, Warren,” she said quietly.
“See you in five minutes.”
“Oh, Warren?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t bring Sabre, will you?”
She pictured him smiling at her.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
THIRTY-ONE
“So Nelson’s dead.”
Leigh gripped the phone, feeling startled yet vastly relieved. She heard her voice shaking.
What Mace had to say was good, yet bad, news. He chose his words carefully.
“We have a body, Leigh. But it hasn’t been officially identified yet. Nelson have any family?”
“None that I know of. Parents died in a fire when Nelson was ten or so, I believe. He never spoke of brothers or sisters. Something of a loner, I gathered.”
“We need someone to identify him, Leigh. Feel up to it?”
Oh my God, she thought. I’m not sure…I need time to think about this.
Avoiding his question, she asked, “Where’d you find him, Mace?”
“Buncha kids spotted something out on the Headlands. Washed up on the beach. Thought it was a mess of old rags at first. Turns out it was a body. Been in the water five, six days by our reckoning.”
Five or six days. What’s left to identify?
“Okay,” Leigh gave a deep sigh. The last person she wanted to see was Nelson. Especially a dead Nelson. “If it has to be done, I’ll do it.”
“ ’Preciate it if you would, Leigh. But I warn you. He’s not a pretty sight.”
I bet.
“Pick you up in, oh, twenty minutes?”
“Sure.”
Stepping out into the hallway, Leigh went through to Deana’s room. She lay in bed, awake. Leigh went over and sat on the bed. Stroking Deana’s hair, she said, “Nelson’s gone, honey. He won’t bother us anymore.”
“He’s dead?”
“That’s right. They found him washed up on a beach over on the Headlands. Must’ve jumped off the Bridge.”
“My God.”
“I have to go identify him, honey. Mace’s due to pick me up shortly. You be okay?”
“Sure. I don’t envy you, Mom. Identifying a corpse. Especially one that’s been in the water so long.”
“Somebody’s got to do it, hon. No one else around who knows him…Staff back at the Bayview, maybe; but when all’s said and done, as his employer, it’s probably down to me.”
“Sure. Okay. Oh, Mom…”
“Yes?”
“In an awful kinda way, everything’s turned out for the best, hasn’t it?”
“Sure it has, honey. Thank God it’s all over now.”
THIRTY-TWO
Leigh looked at the lights sweeping down to the Bay, twinkling like stars in the darkness.
She smiled and said softly, “What a wonderful view. Know something, Mace? I’m one lucky gal.”
Mace grinned. “Sure you are, Leigh. The luckiest. Fabulous house. Great restaurant. Looks. Style. Smart kid—and me.”
