“YOU TWO ARE GOING to catch cold – it’s starting to rain again. Come on back inside.” We followed him in, but not before exchanging a look that said we would try to talk again later. Once inside, Sarah took off for the dessert table, leaving me with Jack in the kitchen.
“I’m surprised Frank doesn’t keep a tighter rein on you, Irene,” he said with a grin.
“I’m not exactly broken to the bit.”
He laughed. “I’ll just bet you aren’t. Well, nothing wrong with that. Not at all. I like a woman with spirit.”
Great, I thought. But the man intrigued me. I never would have imagined Mrs. Fremont’s son to look anything like Jack. It wasn’t that he didn’t resemble her – he looked quite a bit like her. But she just didn’t seem the sort to raise a scar-faced, biker son.
He appraised me as well, and made no attempt to hide the fact. Feeling a little nervous, I started cleaning off dishes that had piled up in the kitchen. Without a word, he took off his leather jacket and started filling the sink with hot soapy water.
“I’ll wash, if you’ll dry,” he said.
“It’s a deal.”
He immersed his arms to his elbows and scoured away. As he handed me the first dish, I noticed a colorful tattoo on the inside of his left arm. It was of a horned goat’s head, with the inscription “Satan Rides Again.”
He saw me staring at it and laughed. “Merely a token of my misspent youth, Miss Kelly. And nothing to worry over now.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”
He washed a few more dishes, then turned to me and said, “I scare you, don’t I?”
“I just don’t know much about you. For example, how do you know my name?”
“Oh, I asked Paul all about you the first time I laid eyes on you. He seems to think Frank Harriman has a corner on the market.”
I didn’t reply.
“Oooh – that serious, huh?”
“At least that serious.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll back off,” he said, laughing. “Let’s see now. You’ve still got that curious look in your eye, even though I’ve made you mad. Now, what does Irene want to know? Let me guess.” He rinsed a stack of dishes and handed them to me. “She wants to know, ‘How could this ratty-assed biker be my friend Mrs. Fremont’s son?’ Am I right?”
I blushed. He laughed again.
“I am right! Okay, here goes. Life story of Jack Fremont, prodigal son of Althea and John Fremont, Senior. I barely remember John Senior – died when I was five. Left us well off, though. So I became a much doted upon, rich spoiled brat – the apple of my mother’s eye. And totally uncontrollable.
“You might say I had been something of a surprise. She was told she couldn’t have children, and at forty, found herself pregnant with yours truly. Dad was fifty, so I’m sure he felt like quite the old rooster. But as I said, he died not long after. Heart attack. Have this impression of a big guy holding me on his knee while he smoked a cigarette and drank a gin martini. But I couldn’t have known what a gin martini was when I was five, so who knows where that comes from.”
He looked over at me, as if to see if I was still interested, and went on.
“So much for the early years. As I got older, I got wilder. Got mixed up with what every parent in Las Piernas knew was the wrong crowd. Hell, I was one of the ones that made it the wrong crowd. And at fifteen, I got a girl pregnant. Cindy Larabee. Seeing a chance to have her marry into money, her daddy all but pulled out a shotgun. My mother made sure I did the honorable thing.”
“You were married at fifteen?”
“Yep. My mother supported us, of course. Old Cindy had me by the balls then, and she knew it. She knew that all she had to do was have that grandchild and Althea Fremont would take care of her for the rest of her days. I mean, the minute I said, ‘I do,’ the woman was transformed into the meanest thing on two feet. Cindy was a bitch. No other word for it.”
He paused while he rinsed off a plate and then reloaded the sink with dirty dishes.
“Well, all this marriage and pregnancy stuff scared the hell out of me. Nothing like feeling your life has come to an end when you’re fifteen. So I ran off; baby wasn’t even born yet. Mom found me and hauled me back. She did it again and again.
“When Paul was born, I stuck around for awhile. It was really exciting to me at first, but I couldn’t stand playing house with Cindy for long. She made my life miserable. So when I turned eighteen, I took off again, and this time I was too old to haul back home.
“I wandered around for about twelve years, dropping by every now and again. Caught glimpses of my boy growing up. Mom hated me then.
“I even tried to get back together with Cindy when Paul was in high school, mainly because I’d started thinking that I was his age back when he was born. I wanted to know my son.”
He stopped washing, but didn’t look up at me. He seemed to tense up for a minute. Just when I was about to ask him what was wrong, he started washing again and went on with his story. But his sarcastic tone was gone now.
“It was a big mistake. I didn’t have anything to offer either one of them. Cindy was still a nasty-tempered little shrew, and a drunk to boot. The night I left, she went on a bender. Died in a car accident – only good part of it was she took out another drunk.
“Anyway, if Paul didn’t hate me before, he surely did then. He was really messed up by the whole deal.”
He stopped washing again, staring off into space. His voice, when he continued, was much quieter.
“Kid even tried to kill himself.” He shook his head. “When my mom told me about that, I really felt like a piece of shit. I thought to myself, ‘Jack, you should be the one to kill himself. The world would be a better place. You’ve given your mother and that poor boy nothing but grief.’ But I don’t know, self-destructive as I’ve been – and believe me, I’ve pulled some dumb stunts – that just isn’t the way for me.”
He drew the back of his hand across his forehead, then looked over at me, trying to read something in my face. I suspected he wondered if I had passed judgment on him in some way. I’ve never been qualified to cast the first stone, so I was merely waiting for him to go on.
“Paul decided he wanted to live with his cousins, and did for almost a year. Boy, is that bunch something. Cindy’s sister can’t keep her pants on long enough to button her fly. She had five boys, all by different fathers. Married and divorced a couple of them. I think she figured that my mom would give her money for looking after Paul, and when that didn’t happen, out he went. My mother took him in again.
“So anyway, here I am, six years later. Been back in Las Piernas four months. I’ve learned that my son has grown into a fine young man, much better than his dad.” His voice grew quiet. “And I made peace with my mother before she died. I guess that should be enough for anyone who’s been as irresponsible as I have.”
He didn’t look as though it was enough. He seemed tired.
“What brought you back?”
He looked at me and grinned. “Well, well. So you are a little curious about me, even after I’ve told you my life’s story. Good sign.
“Let me see. What brought me back to Las Piernas? I suppose if I tell you it’s the only place I ever come back to, you’ll say I’m hedging. So what’s the answer? Hmm…”
He dried his hands on a towel.
“Well, in a roundabout way, a knife fight brought me back. I don’t kid myself that you haven’t noticed the scar. But like they say, you should see the other guy. Only he’s dead. Mom’s lawyers got me off and Mom’s doctors patched me up. And without boring you with a lot of details, I’ll just say I realized then that I wasn’t going to live forever. Ironic, isn’t it? Her doctors said she’d live to be a hundred, and they didn’t give me a snowflake’s chance in hell. But here I am, and she’s gone.”
We had finished the dishes. He looked completely worn down, and his weariness changed him in some way I couldn’t quite name. There was something charming about this maverick. I was thinking that just as the guy with the corner on the market came walking into the kitchen.
Frank gave me that look of his that says he’s just taken something in, some observation that he wants to chew on for a while. But all he said was, “Pete and Rachel want to leave. Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.” I turned to Jack and shook his hand. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“My pleasure,” he said with a grin.
Frank was looking between us when the door opened again. It was Paul Fremont.
“Frank,” he said, “you can’t leave yet. Grandmother’s lawyer wants to know if we can have the reading of the will now. Would that be okay?”
Frank was openly puzzled.
“I’ll take you and Irene back to the church to get your car,” Jack offered. But seeing Frank’s look, he added, “Didn’t you know? My mother named you in her will. You’re a beneficiary.”
“No, I didn’t know,” he said. It was clear that he was totally surprised. He looked uncomfortable in the extreme. As if to find an out, he turned to me and said, “I guess you need to get to work, don’t you?”
I nodded, and seeing his lost look, wished I could stay longer.
“Let me just walk Irene out to Pete’s car,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Paul said, then added, “By the way, Irene, I meant to ask earlier – how’s Sammy doing?”
I had no choice but to keep weaving my tangled web. “She never showed up. I’m quite worried about her.”
Frank steered me out of the room before I had to dig myself in any deeper. We decided to exchange car keys – I’d take his car from the church, which was not far from work. He’d get a ride home from Jack and use my car if he needed to go anywhere.
We went outside, where the rain had become a fine drizzle. He put an arm around my shoulder and walked me toward the car.
“Frank, if you need me to stay-”
“I’ll be okay. Really. I just wasn’t expecting this. Don’t worry about me. You’ve got an election to write about.”
“Want to meet me for dinner?”
“Okay. Where will you be?”
“Let’s see. At first, probably at the Montgomery campaign gathering. At the Cliffside Hotel. Can you meet me there around seven? Not much will be going on until after the polls have been closed for an hour or so.”
“Okay. I’ll call the dining room at the Cliffside and make reservations for us. And I’ll feed Cody.”
“What more could a woman ask for?”
“You could probably think of something if you tried.” He gave me a quick kiss when we reached the car, and I left with Pete and Rachel.
In the car, I reached into my purse and pulled out Sammy’s journal. I handed it over the seat to Pete.
“This the missing kid’s diary? I told Frank that Bredloe would never believe that story about the cat hiding it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the truth. Remind him that this is the cat that once landed a set of scratches on the face of his fist-fighting detective. Even if he’s mad at Frank, he’ll believe you.”
“You got him all wrong, Irene. Bredloe likes Frank. He’s going along with the suspension for Frank’s benefit – give him a chance to cool off a little. By the way, I don’t know what you said to him, but I think he’s doing better today.”
I smiled, thinking of what Frank and I had said to one another.
Rachel saw me and grinned, thinking something else entirely, I’m sure; but after all, she was close. Pete looked over at her. “What? What did I miss out on?”
“Who knows? It’s just nice to see Irene smile, so I smile.”
He wasn’t satisfied, but said, “Well, Miss Cheshire Cat, I suppose you want me to call you about the plate number Frank gave me.”
“Right,” I said.
He shook his head.
“Oh, so what’s the big problem?” Rachel chided. “It’s not like she couldn’t track it down – it would just take her a little longer.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he growled.
“Via, non t’arrabbiare.”
“If you’re going to start speaking Italian to one another, please provide a translation.”
“I told him not to get mad. I think Pete feels like we gang up on him when Frank’s not around to even things out.”
“Damn right I do. I feel outnumbered when I’m around either one of you – even one at a time.”
“Caro, you can’t mean it,” she said in a honeyed tone.
He turned bright red. I wondered when he would take Rachel home to meet his Italian mother.
We reached St. James and pulled up next to Frank’s old Volvo.
“You be careful, Irene,” Rachel said as I got out of the car. “Frank told me about last night. Call if you need us – don’t go wandering around on your own, okay?”
I thanked them and said good-bye. As they drove off, I could see them through the car’s rear window, having one of their typical conversations – both talking at once, gesturing to one another. It’s a wonder they didn’t wreck the car.