He approached the front door and knocked. She did not answer. He knocked again, but there was no reply. Stepping back, Salvatore saw that Liza had shut the shades to the room where she was working. Knowing she was inside made him feel a weird, hot thrill. He peered into the side yard, spying a Big Green Egg smoker next to an outdoor dining set. The smoker was filmy with pollen and one of the patio chairs had fallen over on its side. It had been over 90 fora month,so it made sense that nobody had been grilling recently.
“Hello?”
Salvatore turned. An older man was walking toward him from the house next door. He was heavyset, his hair in a long braid. “Can I help you?” he asked, crossing his arms. Why he was wearing wool socks and Birkenstock sandals in the insane heat was a mystery that was not Salvatore’s to solve.
“I’m Detective Revello,” said Salvatore, pulling out his badge.
The man peered at it; his brow furrowed. He nodded, seemingly satisfied, but his arms remained crossed. “Yes?” he said.
“I’m trying to find Elizabeth Bailey,” said Salvatore. “But she’s not answering her door.”
“As far as I can tell, you’re trespassing,” said the man.
Salvatore rubbed his eyes, dismayed by the neighbor’s antagonism. “Can I ask you a few questions?” said Salvatore.
“No, you may not,” said the man.
Salvatore handed the man his card. “Well, give me a call if you change your mind,” he said. “I’d appreciate it very much.”
“Goodbye,” the neighbor said. He stood sentinel on Liza Bailey’s lawn, watching Salvatore like a hawk until he drove away.
I’m Liza. Hey.
Salvatore saw her in his mind’s eye, thought of her nakedon the futon he’d discarded long ago, the pale green sheets, her eyes looking up at him, giving him a sly grin as she moved down his body…
Salvatore pulled over. He looked at himself in his rearview mirror: grizzled, perspiring, old. He was an adult. With adult responsibilities. He tried to dispel the thought of the mother of a murder suspect with her lips opening to his. Her tongue.
-2-
Barton Hills Mamas
CHARDONNAYISMYJAM
Does anyone know how early a child can be tested for dyslexia? Lulu Rosemary is three and when I do her letter work in the mornings, she consistently thinks the “B” is a “P”! I’m so freaked out but I don’t want to scar her by seeming alarmed. I try to be low-key and gently correct her. I know BHE has a great dyslexia specialist (part of the reason we moved here from Boston in the first place!). Can I contact her now? I do feel it’s important to intervene early so Lulu Rosemary doesn’t fall behind. Help!
LIBRARIANMUM
I think what’s important now is for you to read to Lulu Rosemary and instill a love of books. The rest will fall into place! Join us at “Story Time” at the Twin Oaks Branch of the Austin Public Library every morning at ten!
TESLALUVR
I just want to say that for those of you who imply that Barton Hills is all rich white people, you can see above that a librarian can afford to live here! It’s a mixed community!
LIBRARIANMUM
Ha, true, but my husband was #3 at Uber and is now retired. You might see him around the neighborhood on his recumbent bike! He has a new, unfortunate man bun.
KRISTA-G
Ladies! Newsflash! I live next door to one of the older moms in the ’hood, Liza Bailey. (OG rancher and I think she rents, single mom—not saying that’s bad!) Her 15-year-old son, Charlie, is a lifeguard at Rosewood. Super-nice kid, he plays soccer with the twins out front sometimes and not even paid. Anyway, there was a cop car on our street and a hot cop was just lurking around her lawn!
CHARDONNAYISMYJAM
Hot cop alert! Much more interesting than Lulu Rosemary’s probable dyslexia!
KRISTA-G
#waitingwithbatedbreath
