“Happy to help. So, now that you’ve seen the doctor, have you made any . . . plans?”
“I’m trying to. My son should be here this weekend. I’d like to have a memorial service for my grandmother while he’s here.”
Lisa nodded but did not interrupt.
“Evelyn suggested I invite people from the tribe; I’m meeting with Joe about that tomorrow.” She crunched a chip. Then she was ready to say what was really on her mind.
“I hate to ask you to remember this,” she said, “but I’m haunted by how my grandmother died. Have you wondered any more about whether it was an accident?”
Lisa looked at her with one of those deer-in-the-headlights, just-seen-a-ghost stares. “Um . . . actually . . . I’ve been trying not to think about it. It was so upsetting. . . .”
Oddly, Lisa seemed more upset now than when she’d first told Maddie what happened.
“I’m sorry,” Maddie responded, “but it’s taking forever for Brandon to get the death certificate. I keep wondering if it’s because the medical examiner, or whoever does that, is suspicious about what happened. Like maybe he’s doing extensive testing or something.”
Lisa was no longer looking at Maddie but at her hands. She started weaving her fingers in and out.
“Oh, Maddie, it really was just like they said, that she hit her head and bled out. Pay no attention to my stupid rambling. I was trying to make sense of her dying, hoping there was someone I could blame. But I honestly can’t imagine why anyone would harm her. She was a nice old lady.” Then she stood up. “I’m sorry, but I just remembered I left the kids alone with Mickey. Which isn’t a great idea when he’s been working all day. Sometimes he falls asleep by mistake. You know?”
Maddie studied her a couple of seconds, then nodded. “Well, please thank him again for the lobster, and thank you for getting the frappe. If you bring me my purse, I’ll reimburse you. . . .”
By that time Lisa was at the front door. “No,” she said. “I told you. Our treat!” She smiled a smile that looked terribly phony. Then she waved, the screen door closing behind her.
And Maddie was left with an uneasy feeling that Lisa either was still too upset about not having found Nancy sooner . . . or she, like others, was holding something back.
Chapter 21
At some point either late at night or early in the morning, Brandon sent a text:Saw that you called. Will def be on-island this wknd. Talk then.That was it.
Maddie had slept late—which seemed unbelievable with all that was happening—so when she got up, there was no time to reply. She needed to get ready for her date that wasn’t really a date. Not that she could be sure what a date actually was. The last one she’d had—a year or more ago—was with a guy named Norm Connors, who was so quiet she’d felt compelled to keep a conversation going. Thankfully, they went out for dinner, when chewing reduced the chance to politely speak; then they attended a play where the actors did all the talking. But the driving from place to place, the sitting while waiting for menus and again before the theater lights dimmed, were unnerving. By the time she got home, she was catatonic.
She was fairly sure Rex would be a more animated companion. As an added bonus, he most likely did not have a wife and kids because, on an island, dating another woman would certainly be noticed.
She checked the clock; she needed to forget her dating mishaps and get a move on, because putting the plastic bag over her cast, showering, then removing the darn thing while not allowing water to seep in, was time-consuming.
Managing to shower, dry off, and dress in her grandmother’s skirt and wampum necklaces, she had enough time left to dry and fix her hair.
He knocked on the door exactly at noon.Eight bells, Maddie thought with a smile.
“Great skirt” was the first thing he said when she opened the door.
“Thanks. It’s bizarre how a silly cast on one’s leg can limit a wardrobe.”
He smiled. He looked nice. He was in what must be a no-iron, short-sleeved pale blue shirt that was tucked into knee-length denim shorts; he wore a woven belt that looked handmade. Maddie wondered if the belt was Wampanoag. Or . . . was Rex? She decided that, though it would be nice, it didn’t matter. Then she hobbled to the table for her purse, and he escorted her out the back door.
“Thebackdoor?” she asked.
“Trust me,” he said.
Right or wrong, she did.
He led her up the hill through the backyard; he said there was no need to walk down the hill on all that shifting sand. She walked beside him, curious. As they reached the larger, now unlocked, empty shed, he guided her around the back to an almost hidden dirt-packed path. Maddie took one careful step at a time as they cut through a grove of scrub pines. After about twenty or thirty feet, the trees parted and a small, open area appeared. A silver pickup sat there.
“I don’t believe it,” Maddie said. “For the past week I’ve been hobbling down the hill, terrified I’d fall, when all along, there was a parking space on level ground right here.”
“Not exactly,” Rex replied. “I actually hauled in a heavy equipment roller late last night. It was dark, so it was tough, but . . . voilà. An accessible parking lot.”
She didn’t believe him for a second. “How thoughtful of you.”
