A Midnight Clear Page 9

  I was on my way to the mall with Madison when my phone rang, announcing the caller to be Ruby. Thinking I needed to probably get some sort of Bluetooth device, I answered the phone and let Ruby know she was on speaker.

  “I’m calling to check in and let you know I survived the night.” She sounded better—less tired and stunned. The voice on the phone was the same dry, snarky Ruby I’d spoken to early last night, before her father’s murder.

  “I’m glad.” I glanced over at Madison, carefully choosing my words. “Anything I can do to help?”

  She sighed. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be wanting beer or wine any time soon. I don’t know when they’re releasing Dad’s car, or when I’m free to make arrangements. I really don’t feel up to going through his condo yet. Maybe I’ll do that later this week.”

  “If you need someone around to help sort through clothing and kitchen utensils, let me know,” I told her. “I’ve been there, and I know it can feel a bit overwhelming to do it all yourself.”

  “Thank you. My mother lives in Seattle and we aren’t very close. I’ve got a few friends who can help, but I don’t want to overwhelm them. And knowing how much stuff my dad has, it might be better to go through his stuff one day a week over a month or two.”

  I remembered my promise to the ghost of her father, but I barely knew Ruby. I’d suggest ways I could help, but it’s not like I was in any position to just swing by her house and check on her, or pester her with offers of assistance. “Let me know what I can do. And please call me if you need anything.”

  Madison turned to me as I hung up. “A friend of yours? Did her father die?”

  “He did. It was very unexpected.”

  The girl chewed on her lip. “Does she have any brothers or sisters? I heard her say she wasn’t close to her mother.”

  “I don’t think so. I haven’t known her very long, but I’ve never heard her mention a sibling.”

  She was silent for a few minutes as I navigated through traffic toward the mall.

  “I don’t know what I’d do if Dad died,” she said so softly I could barely hear her.

  My breath lodged in my throat at the thought. “Oh, honey. Your father is healthy and young. You’ve got a long time with him before you have to face that.”

  “But what if I don’t?” She chewed on her lip again. “You said your friend’s father died unexpectedly. You told me about your husband’s accident and how he almost died. What if that happens to Dad? What if he has a horrible car accident on the way to work one morning? What if he has a massive heart attack, or an aneurism, or flesh-eating bacteria or something?”

  “I can’t say those things never happen, but the chances of them occurring are pretty slim.” I glanced over at her. “You have two parents who love you dearly. You’ve got a brother who you might think is a giant pain in the butt right now, but who will always be there when you need him, just as you’ll be there for him. And, there’s me. I love you and Henry, and I would do anything for the pair of you. Never forget that.”

  She smiled over at me. “I love you too, Kay.”

  It made me think of Ruby. Her mother across the country and not someone she could reach out to. No siblings. Her father murdered. And it was Christmas.

  I needed to invite Ruby to join us. And I needed to change the topic of conversation. This was supposed to be a fun shopping trip for Madison and I. Fun. Not thinking of who might die and when.

  “So what store should we go to first?” I asked her as I turned into the mall parking lot.

  “Sephora.” The glance Madison sent my way was downright impish.

  “To buy your mother a gift or pick something up for yourself? Because I doubt you’re buying Henry or your father a gift from a cosmetics store.”

  She laughed. “Okay, okay. But if we get all our shopping done before dinner, I want to check out some mascara.”

  I headed toward the center of the mall, realizing that if I had any hope of finding a parking space in the next half an hour, I’d need to just find something at the outer edges and walk in.

  “So, as I asked before, where first?”

  “Nordstrom.”

  I parked, even though I was as far from Nordstrom as possible while still in the mall parking lot. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in that store. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in this mall. Two, three years ago? Maybe longer. No, two years ago when I’d been getting those shirts from Jos. A. Bank that Eli had loved.

  I wondered if Judge Beck liked shirts from Jos. A. Bank.

  I put the car in park, turned it off, and grabbed my purse. “Nordstrom it is. And on the way, maybe we’ll grab a smoothie.”

  “Or a HoneyBaked ham.” Madison grabbed her purse and jumped out of the car. “I’m ready to shop, Kay. How about you?”

  I grinned at her enthusiasm. “Oh, I am so ready to shop, Madison. So ready.”

  Chapter 8

  “How about this?” Madison made an Instagram-ready pouty face as she held up the bright pink North Face jacket.

  I laughed. “Cute. Are you shopping for yourself again?”

  “No, I’m shopping for Dad.”

  Right. “Have you ever seen your father wear a pink puffy jacket?”

  She smirked. “Well, maybe he should.”

  That’s how our shopping trip had been so far, and I wasn’t exactly sad about it. Madison was charming, funny, and clever, and I was really enjoying her company. But in spite of that, we weren’t getting much done in the way of our holiday shopping.”

  “Seriously, Madison? If you’re going to spend two hundred dollars on something at least make it something your Dad is going to actually wear.”

  She fake-pouted once more. “Are you saying he wouldn’t wear it?”

  This girl had her father tightly wrapped around her pinky, and she knew it. “You know darned well that your dad would wear that thing just because you bought it for him, but why torture him so?”

  She slid the jacket back onto the rack with a grin. “Okay, okay. This sort of thing worked when I was five. I don’t think it would work now. He’d know it was a prank. And you’re right—a pink puffy coat is probably pushing things a bit too far.”

  Madison liked to save all her gift-buying for the week before Christmas, so she had quite a list of gifts to buy between her family and her friends. I’d knitted most of my gifts, but I still needed to find something for Judge Beck.

  It seemed half the county had the same idea because the mall was jam-packed with frazzled shoppers, blindly throwing random items in carts in an effort to just get it all over with and get back to the eggnog.

  At least that’s what I was thinking.

  “How about we head over to the sporting goods store?” I suggested. “We can get your dad a new golf club or something.”

  “Nope.” Madison waved her hand as if she were Oprah announcing a giveaway. “Everyone gets clothes. I’m upping the fashion-game for the men in my family, starting with Dad.”

  “Well then let’s move away from the pink puffy coats.” I wove around a family with a double stroller into a section with dressier coats. “How about this one?”

  It was a three-quarter length black merino wool and cashmere coat. Masculine, elegant, soft. I could absolutely see Judge Beck wearing this sort of coat every day.

  Madison scrunched up her face. “He has one exactly like that.”

  Which was probably why I could imagine Judge Beck wearing this sort of coat every day.

  “He looks like a judge all the time,” Madison complained. “Even when he’s off work, he looks like a judge.”

  I felt slightly offended on her father’s behalf. “He wore shorts and a polo shirt at the barbeque. And he wears khakis with a polo shirt when he plays golf.”

  The teen rolled her eyes. “That’s judge-not-working clothes. He doesn’t own anything hip.”

  “He wears cartoon-print pajamas and an old brewery t-shirt,” I shot back. The judge al
ternated between plaid ones, ones with fishes on them, ones with little Hello Kittys, and the ones with Pokémon characters.

  Although now that I thought about it, my comment sounded…intimate. Yes, the judge lived in my house, but the admission that I’d seen Madison’s father wandering around in his pajamas was a bit embarrassing.

  “Who do you think got him those pajamas?” Madison rolled her eyes again. “And those race and brewery shirts were from when he was young and cool. Mom kept trying to throw them away and dad always dug them out of the donation bag.”

  I loved the judge’s quirky pajamas and ratty t-shirts. Maybe I needed to give Madison more credit and let her choose whatever she wanted for her father. It was her gift after all.

  “Okay. You win. Let’s make your father totally rad.”

  An hour later we were stuffing bags into the car. She’d gotten him jeans, more t-shirts, a distressed leather bomber jacket, and a North Face coat in a more suitable color than bright pink. I’d been a little shocked at the numbers ringing up on the cash register, but Madison had handed over a credit card with the sort of casual nonchalance of a girl who’d never wanted for anything.

  It made me uncomfortable. At her age I’d been carefully spending babysitting money for my Christmas gifts, not charging it all on my father’s credit card. I know times were different, that both she and Henry were good children and far from entitled brats, but I still wondered if they ever thought about how fortunate they really were.

  We headed back inside and Madison got to work on Henry’s clothing makeover. I browsed through the housewares section, feeling like I was in a Hallmark Christmas movie at the moment. I’d made scarves for my friends and for Madison. I’d bought Henry an out-of-print book of pre-Revolutionary furniture styles in the colonies. I’d was thinking of getting Judge Beck an electronic picture frame and loading it up with various pictures I’d snapped of us and the kids throughout the year. Now I was having a twinge of regret, wondering if that was enough. Here I was faced with all this excess, thinking that maybe I should be spending more on the people I cared about most in my life.

  I had no luxurious long hair to sell like Della in return for a watch fob chain, and that story hadn’t worked out so well in the end anyway. Gifts were supposed to come from the heart. I’d carefully chosen each of mine so that they held meaning both to me and hopefully to the recipient. What I’d spent, or not spent, on them was immaterial, so I paid for the electronic picture frame and decided to make it the best gift I could.

  “Oh, Kay! Look!”

  She was holding a cable-knitted hat with ears and whiskers along the brim. Before I could comment, Madison had crammed it onto my head.

  “You look like Taco!” she announced.

  I had a bad feeling this was going to be my gift. “It’s so cute!” I exclaimed. “I love the ears. And it’s really warm with the fleece inside.”

  Maybe I’d wear it sitting out back drinking coffee on cold January weekends. Or maybe I’d say “screw it” and wear it to work. Suddenly I thought of the pink North Face jacket and knew exactly how Judge Beck had felt all these years. I loved these kids, and I’d proudly wear anything they gave me, whether it was a macaroni necklace or a hat with cat ears and whiskers.

  “I got one for Henry that looks like Cthulhu. Only red, so maybe it’s supposed to be Doctor Zoidberg from Futurama.”

  She snatched the hat off my head and ran back to her overflowing cart. I found myself staring after her, a completely besotted smile on my face.

  I loved these kids. I loved them so much. No matter where their future took them, no matter where my future took me, I’d always cherish these memories. And I’d wear that darned hat every single day if one of them bought it for me.

  After shopping, Madison and I went to dinner together. We sat together over burgers and fries, planning out Christmas dinner and deciding which of us would cook what foods.

  “I saw what happened at the party last night,” she announced, out of the blue in typical teenager fashion. “About Judge Reynolds being killed.”

  I sat down my burger. “Where did you hear that?” There had been a brief mention on the radio about Judge Reynolds dying, but no details, let alone that foul play was suspected.

  “Twitter. It’s where you find everything out, like super-fast. I read a tweet just now that said he was beaten to death in a bathroom during the party. I’m glad I didn’t know before I went to bed, or I would have been frantically texting Dad all night. He never tells us stuff like that. Should I be worried? A judge was murdered. Dad’s a judge. Kay, is he in danger?”

  “He’s not,” I reassured him. “This had nothing to do with him, or with his job. The police will find out who did this, but I’m sure it was someone from Judge Reynolds’ past or personal life.”

  She picked at a few of her fries. “I wonder if Mom knows. She used to go to all those parties with Dad, and socialized with all the wives. When Dad became a judge, Mom made a list of the other judges and their families. She’d invite them to the country club, or to lunch, or coffee. She probably knows him, I guess.”

  “If she knows Judge Reynolds, then I’m sure knows of his death by now,” I told the girl. Thinking I might want to mention it to Heather when she came to pick up the kids tonight. It worried me that this was the second conversation I was having with Madison where she was concerned about her father dying. It was something both her parents should know about.

  I suddenly thought of something else. “Did you get your mom a gift yet? And her boyfriend…” Drat, I’d forgotten his name.

  “Tyler.” She nodded. “I got them both gifts.”

  There was something in the extremely unenthusiastic way she said that which made me think she hadn’t enjoyed buying one or both of those gifts. It wasn’t my business to pry about her mother or her mother’s boyfriend, but I’d heard Daisy talk too often about the kids she worked with not to at least encourage Madison to share anything she wanted with me.

  “Everything okay?” I asked. “With your mom? With Tyler?” I’m sure Daisy would have worded it better, but it was the best I could do.

  Madison nodded. “I guess. He’s okay. Kinda boring, if you ask me.”

  “Weren’t you just saying your father was boring?” I teased.

  She laughed at that. “Dad dresses boring, but he’s not boring. Tyler is. He’s nice to mom. He’s nice to Henry and me. He took us all on that cruise this summer. That was fun.”

  “But?” I pressed.

  She sighed. “He works for some company managing people or something. He goes to work at eight, is home at five-thirty on the dot. Never brings work home with him, never works on weekends.”

  “That sounds nice.” I tried to word this as carefully as possible. “It sounds like what your mom wanted.”

  “It’s what Mom thought she wanted,” Madison blurted out. “He’s nice, he’s reliable and dependable, and he seems to love her. But there’s no interesting talk about cases, or law, or politics, or current events.”

  “What you want in a romantic partner might not be what your mother wants,” I told her. “As long as he treats her, and both you and your brother, right and she’s happy—those are the important things.”

  She fidgeted with the straw in her soda. “I want someone who loves his job—who sees it as a career, as his passion. I want us both to come home and be excited to talk about what we’ve done and how it impacts the world, or our society, or something. I want to do something that matters, and I want my boyfriend, or husband, to do something that matters.”

  Like a surgeon or a judge, or a journalist turned skip tracer and junior investigator.

  “The world needs plumbers, car salespeople, and sanitation workers too,” I reminded her. “And the world needs people working for corporations who manage other people. Those things might not sound exciting to you, but they are important. And to many people, a job is what pays the bills so they can spend their free time doing what they’re passionat
e about.”

  She sighed. “I know, I know. I wouldn’t mind so much if Tyler spent his free time helping the homeless, or doing something artistic.”

  “What does Tyler do in his free time?”

  She thought for a second. “Watches a lot of TV. He golfs.”

  I didn’t point out that her father golfed, and that both she and Henry enjoyed spending hours in front of the television. Of course, Tyler was probably watching different sorts of shows than Madison and Henry did.

  “What did you get him for Christmas?” I asked, curious.

  She made a face. “A pen set for his office. I had no idea what to get him. They’re nice pens.”

  “And your mom?”

  “Monthly mani-pedis for a year.” Madison shoved a fry into her mouth. “She used to go every month when she and Dad were together, but I noticed she hasn’t been going anymore.”

  I felt a bit sad about that, but it seemed everyone needed to make lifestyle changes during a divorce. Judge Beck was renting rooms in my house. Heather had to give up some of her luxuries.

  It made me wonder what Helen Dixon had to give up leaving her husband for Judge Reynolds. She’d been at the party last night. Was she invited on her own, or was she the guest of someone else? Had she and her husband gotten back together after the relationship with Rhett Reynolds hadn’t worked out?

  I put the thoughts aside and concentrated on my food. After a few moments of silence, Madison suddenly snorted out a laugh.

  “You know, I’ll bet plumbers have good stories to tell when they get home from work.”

  I grinned. “Like about what they found crammed down someone’s clogged toilet?”

  “Or in the washing machine drain?”

  “Two feet of water in someone’s basement from a water main break?”

  “Overflowing tub that crashed through the ceiling into the living room?”

  By now we were both nearly crying with laughter. “Maybe you should become a plumber,” I told Madison. “You’d definitely be making a difference in people’s lives. When people need a plumber, they usually really need a plumber.”