Lying in Wait (9780061747168) by Judith A. Jance Page B

absolutely no ! He told me I was being silly and selfish. And then he left—stormed out of the house right in the middle of the fight. He just walked out the door, got in his truck, and went down to Fishermen’s Terminal to spend the night. That’s what’s so unfair about it. Men can do that, you know. They can leave. Women can’t. Somebody has to stay behind to take care of things. I had to stay here with Mother. I’ve had to do that my whole life.”
    Else Gebhardt’s blue eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. “I feel so awful. I loved him. And I’m sorry he’s dead. And I don’t know what I’ll do without him, but I’m mad at him, too, dammit! Because he got away, and he left me holding the bag. And because he didn’t even bother to kiss me good-bye.”
    Just then a door opened at the top of the stairs. “Else?” a woman’s voice called. “Phone.”
    â€œI can’t talk to anyone right now,” Else managed, choking down a sob. “Tell them I’ll call back.”
    â€œIt’s Kari.”
    â€œOh, of course,” Else said, wiping the tears from her face and lurching to her feet. “Kari. Tell her I’ll be right there. You’ll excuse me?”
    Sue and I nodded in unison. After Else left, I looked down at the notebook on the countertop in front of me. The page was blank.
    â€œAll this stream-of-consciousness stuff isn’t getting us anywhere, is it?”
    â€œNot really,” Sue agreed. “But there’s one thing I’m curious about.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œWhy does she keep calling you BoBo?”
    I didn’t much want to discuss it, but I figured I’d be better off getting it out of the way once and for all.
    â€œIt’s from back in the old days,” I answered shortly. “Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. It’s a nickname that dates from Ballard High School Beaver days, when the cheerleading squad used to give pet names to all the athletes.”
    â€œYou two knew one another back then?”
    â€œAs well as a lowly sophomore ever knows the senior movers and shakers. You know how that goes. Else and Alan Torvoldsen were a real item back then.”
    â€œThat’s the guy she was going to marry? The one who knocked her up? Isn’t he the same one Watty wants us to see later today?”
    â€œThat’s right. In case you hadn’t noticed, Ballard’s really a small town stuck in the middle of a big city.”
    Sue Danielson nodded. “I’m beginning to figure that out,” she said.
    I got up and prowled around Gunter Gebhardt’s compulsively clean workshop. Stored in one cupboard I found the collection of carefully crafted plaster molds he had used to create his army of lead soldiers. I also found the collection of paints and delicate brushes and files he must have used to do the finish work on the soldiers once they came out of the molds. Painstakingly making those soldiers must have been the sole creative outlet for a man with considerable artistic talent and capability.
    The door at the top of the stairs opened, and the stairs creaked under the weight of heavy footsteps. Soon Else Gebhardt appeared from behind the partition at the bottom of the stairs. She was still crying, but she was smiling through the tears.
    â€œKari’s coming down from Bellingham. Michael’s bringing her down. They’ll be here early this evening. I can hardly believe it.” As far as I could see, it seemed reasonable that a daughter faced with news of her father’s death would show up to help her mother. “What makes that so hard to believe?” I asked.
    â€œYou don’t understand,” Else replied. “The last time Gunter and I saw Kari was the night of her high school graduation. She cut us dead—refused to speak to either one of us. I thought it would break her father’s heart.”
    â€œI