Nicole Young - Kill Me If You Can

In my peripheral vision, I could see Gerard casually poking at some smoking charcoal with his foot. Then he turned and walked off.

Officer Segerstrom nodded, his head bent over his notepad. He didn’t even seem surprised as he jotted down my answer.

“And the other man?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I couldn’t see his face. Ask Gerard.”

“Did the other man get a good look at you?”

“Like I said, he practically ran me over.” I thought back. “But I had a scarf over my face to block the wind. I don’t think he would recognize me if he had seen me again.”

“Anything else happen that would put you at risk?”

Officer Segerstrom asked the questions as if he already knew the answers. I rolled my eyes. “I did help Melissa Belmont with her kids at church one day. She said she had something to tell me and asked if I’d meet her in Manistique. I agreed. She told me her husband was dealing drugs and beating her.” I tossed my head in Puppa’s direction. “She thought if I told my grandfather, he could help her.”

The officer glanced up from his notepad. “Does anyone else know what Melissa Belmont told you?”

My hands slashed the air. “Absolutely not. It took me awhile, but I finally got around to telling my grandfather.”

“So there’s nobody else who knows what she told you?”

Obviously the guy was getting at something.

I thought about it. “Uh, I guess I did tell one other person.”

He looked at me from under his brim. “And who would that be?”

My fingers twitched. “Candice LeJeune. But I’m sure she wouldn’t have said anything to anybody.”

I glanced at my grandfather. His eyes narrowed into two tiny slits.

“Candice,” he said under his breath.

I jumped in to explain. “Like I said, I’m sure she wouldn’t have told anybody. She’s a really good friend and I just wanted to get her take on the situation.”

“And what was her take?” Puppa asked.

I fought against the shame that crept up. I shouldn’t have to feel bad for running the scenario past Candice, but I had promised Missy that I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone but my grandfather.

I gulped. “She had a few choice words for women like Missy. She wasn’t at all sympathetic.”

My grandfather’s face twisted with rage. “How dare she?” He paced in a mindless circle. He stopped and looked up. “If you’ll excuse me, Patricia, Officer Segerstrom”—he nodded as he said our names—“I think I’ll take a little ride and have a talk with Ms. LeJeune.”

Puppa stalked toward the black truck, jumped behind the wheel, and sped off. I could only watch dumbfounded as the tires spit gravel on his way out.

I looked toward Officer Segerstrom. “That went well. I hope we don’t get a report of assault and battery after he’s done.”

The man squeezed his brows together. “You don’t know your grandfather very well, do you?”

My arms flailed with uncertainty. “Well, no. I guess not. We’ve only seen each other a couple times since I’ve been back.” I gave a humph. “In fact, most of what I know about him comes from Candice.”

The officer smiled. “In the future, I think you better check your source.” He knelt down by the wreckage. “I’m going to play around in the dirt for a while and then drop off some stuff at the lab. I’ll keep you posted if we’re able to pin this on anyone.”

“Thanks,” I said. I headed back to the house, wondering how I was going to entertain Gerard until my grandfather returned. I looked around inside and called for him, but my cousin was nowhere to be found. I glanced out the front windows and saw him standing at the lakeshore.

“Hey, Gerard,” I said, out of breath by the time I reached him.

“Hey, cuz.” He stared at the rolling waves.

“Gramps up and left you. He went to give Candice a good talking-to.”

Gerard shook his head and turned my way. “I hope they can finally work things out. They’ve been going at it for too many years.”

“What’s the deal with that, anyway? I got the impression that Candice left her husband for Puppa, but then she changed her mind or something?”

He sat down on a rock and motioned for me to join him. I picked a whitish, smooth-top boulder. The stone was warm from the sun.

“This family is so screwed up, I don’t even know where to start,” he said. “I guess you probably know that your dad’s mom drowned out front of the lake house when he was only three years old.”

An ant lion attacked its prey on a patch of sand in front of me. I sympathized with the unsuspecting victim. “I knew she’d died, but I had no idea so tragically,” I said.

Gerard played with a stick, dragging it back and forth across the ground. “She liked to fish off the dock out front. One day she fell in. Must have hit her head or something. But nobody was around to save her. Papa B always blamed himself for not being there.”

I nodded. I knew that feeling. Guilt and I were on a first-name basis.

“Anyway, Papa B had helped her get out of her marriage to a wife-abusing drunk. He put her up at the lake house. She got a divorce, then she and Papa B got married. Papa B always thought her ex was behind her drowning, but he could never prove anything. After that, he made it a point to help out women who’d gotten themselves into bad situations. He felt he owed it to his wife to always keep a fire burning for the cause.”

The waves rolled in with a steady whoosh. The high-pitched whine of seagulls rang across the water as the birds vied for lunch just offshore.

“That’s really noble of him,” I said, filling the lull between us.

Gerard dropped his stick for a blade of beach grass. “Yep. He’s a pretty noble guy. Anyway”—the grass went in his mouth and he chewed while he talked—“then Candice comes along. We were just kids, but I remember thinking that she was really something. Always nice, always polite, always smiling. But it turns out her husband was big into drugs, gambling, and abuse, and she was barely holding herself together. Papa B meets her, figures it out, and tries to give her an exit. I guess it took awhile, but she finally went to him for help. He let her stay up at the lake house.”

I remembered the dreamlike days with Mom, Puppa, and Jellybean. The memories held a sweet aroma, like a field of wildflowers or a just-opened bar of chocolate.

Gerard shook his head. “Then, big surprise, Papa B falls in love with her. She’s still married and refusing to get a divorce because it’s against her religion or something. Next thing you know, her husband dies in that house fire. She blames it all on Papa B, of course. Motive, opportunity. You name it, he had it. And she never let him forget that.”

“But Candice must have known her husband was running with a bad crowd.”

Gerard flicked the grass onto the pebbly sand. “She knew. It’s called denial. She’s one of those people that figure if you don’t look at it, it’ll go away.”

I slid off my rock and onto the beach. Tiny shells filled the spaces between stones. I picked at them.

No wonder Candice was so appalled with Missy’s situation. Candice had once been in the exact same place and hadn’t been able to save herself.

I plucked my favorite shells out of the sand and set them on my white rock. One swirled upward like a mouse-sized butter pecan ice-cream cone. “So what happened with Sid? He was your grandfather, wasn’t he? How did he end up in the fire with Candice’s husband?”

Gerard squinted in the sunshine. The soft crinkles around his eyes made me think of Brad.

“That’s where things get complicated,” Gerard said. “Here’s Sid, the brother of a state trooper, and he’s up to his neck in marijuana plants. The locals always figured your grandfather was covering for Sid. Anytime Papa B bought anything new or put up the white fencing or the big barn, people assumed Sid had paid him to keep his mouth shut. But far as I know, Papa B is clean.” He ran a hand through short black hair. “The story goes that Paul and Sid ran up some gambling debts and pledged their harvest of Silvan Green to pay the bill.” He looked at me to see if I was following. “Silvan Green is what they call marijuana grown around here.”

“So I gathered,” I said.

He continued. “But the bigwigs in the drug trade were counting on that harvest. Next thing you know, Paul and Sid are undergoing a joint cremation.” His voice turned husky at the last words.

“I’m so sorry.” The sun glinted on the water. The glaring light caused me to squint. “So my mom had something to do with turning them in?”

He gave a flip of his hand. “Olivia just needs someone to blame. If Beth did call the cops on Paul and Grandpa Sid, she was doing everyone a favor. Port Silvan is a remote community. We don’t have a police force out here keeping tabs on the riffraff. It’s up to us to care enough about our town to police it ourselves. The drug trade can get pretty messy.”

I gave a half snort. “You should know. What were you doing that day on the bluff? Exchanging baseball cards with that guy?”

“That was no guy. Hey, I’m onto something big. But you’ve got to keep your mouth shut about what you saw. Let me do my job.”

“Your job?”

His voice became irate. “Just forget what you saw. Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”

“Fine. Whatever. I just don’t like the thought of being part of some mafia family. I kind of like you guys. I don’t want to have to quit hanging around you.”

“We’re not mafia, okay? Just drop it.”

“Touchy, touchy.” We watched the waves roll in. Their rolling rhythm filled the silence. “So that’s the story of Great-Uncle Sid,” I said after a while. “What about your dad and mom? What’s their story?”

Gerard kept his gaze on the water. “Dad died driving drunk when I was twelve. Mom took off with the milkman.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, feeling sorry for him.

“No, actually it was the plumber.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his hopeless sense of humor. “So who raised you and Joel?”

“Papa B.”

I nodded. “I guess that explains why you call him Papa B.”

Gerard cracked a smile. “I guess.”

I kicked back and put my hands behind my head. I lay prone and closed my eyes. With the sun beating down on me, I could almost feel the cells converting the rays to vitamin D. Gerard and I didn’t talk for a while. I might have nodded off if it hadn’t been for the cacophony of gulls.

“Gerard.” Grandfather’s voice sounded like a bare whisper in the wind.

I sat up to look. Gerard craned around next to me. My grandfather came toward us, picking his way through beach grass and rocks.

“We have to go,” he said, panting. “Olivia’s having another bout.”

My cousin stood and stretched.

“So what happened with Candice?” I asked my grandfather.

The way his lips thinned into a long, straight line told me the meeting hadn’t gone well.

“Gerard. Let’s go,” was all he said.

They left me. I faced the water and crossed my ankles in the sand. The breeze blew wisps of hair across my face. The gulls swooped and dove for some tasty morsels that lay just beneath the surface. The view was so peaceful. I wondered how anyone who lived in such beautiful surroundings could be driven to burn down a garden shed, or send a home up in flames. But I already knew the answer. Only hurting, desperate people did those kinds of things. I should know. I’d been there.

I watched the waves a few more minutes, then I went inside to call Brad.

I dialed the phone, feeling like an errant schoolgirl about to get yelled at by the principal.

“Hello?” Brad’s voice came at the other end of the line.

“It’s me. Tish.”

“Are you okay? What’s going on up there?”

“I’m fine.” I sighed and rested my forehead against a kitchen cabinet. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I’ve been a little distracted.”

“I can imagine.”

“You can?” My shoulders relaxed. “Thanks for being so understanding. Officer Segerstrom said you were pretty worried.”

“I want to be there for you, but I’m stuck down here. I hate that.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat and dragged my emotions away from the abyss of self-pity. I put on a smile. “Well, you’re here for me now. Thanks for caring.”

I looked out the kitchen window at the smoking debris as I told him the details of the afternoon, leaving out the fireman’s assessment that the arson was meant to be a warning.