his question. “He’s not too bad. Snappy, though.”
He frowns. “Have you heard anything more about how that might have happened?”
“No. The kid who brought him home said there wasn’t anyone else around, so I haven’t gone out asking.”
“Still, I think I should talk to him. Maybe there’s something he saw, but didn’t realize its importance. Did you get a phone number?”
“No. I wish I had. He put his own leash on Murphy to bring him home and forgot to take it back. It looks expensive. Possibly even custom-made.”
“Why don’t I take a look at it? If it was made by a local artisan, I might be able to track the guy down.”
“Okay. I’ll get it to you.”
“We’ve found Marti’s brother, Ned, by the way.” Ben smiles a thank-you at the waitress, who sets down our drinks. “He’s coming out here to arrange the funeral.”
“That’s what I called you about earlier. You got my message?”
He nods, taking a deep draft of his Sierra Nevada pale ale. “I thought we could talk here instead of on the phone.”
I toy with my Chardonnay. “When is Marti…how soon can it be?”
“At the end of the week, Ted says. He thinks the toxicology reports will be pretty much routine, and he’s put a rush on them to get them out of the way as soon as possible. He’s doing it for you, he says. He likes you.”
“Ted’s a sweetheart. So’s his wife, so don’t get any ideas. But back to Marti’s brother. He wants the funeral here? I’m surprised.”
“I take it he feels that’s the most expedient way to do it. Financially, that is. I also got the impression he and Marti didn’t get along.”
“That’s true. She didn’t talk about him much, and I can count on the fingers of one hand the times I saw them together.”
“You don’t know why they might have been estranged? If they were?”
“No. But he’s a lot older. Ten years, I think. Maybe he resented having a new baby around when he was the only child for so long.”
I sip my wine, and Ben looks at me with a teasing light in his eyes.
“Great hairdo,” he comments, remarking on my quickly pulled-back ponytail. “And I love the beaten-up running shoes. Pure Carmel.”
“Well, I need to be fleet-of-foot when I’m around you.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Perhaps because you asked me here to interrogate me,” I say.
“I could have done that at the station.”
“Oh, so you brought me here to woo me? Gee, I thought we did that at your house, not in public.”
When he hasn’t an answer to that, I sigh. “Okay, so just get on with it. What do you want to know?”
He sets the heavy glass of ale down on the table. The fire crackles beside us, and I’m starting to get too warm, which is what I get for not layering. At the bar the patrons, mostly locals, carry on easy conversations with one eye on the television on the back wall.
“I want to know about Marti’s baby,” Ben says. “That’s one thing you forgot to mention, Ab—the reason for that Cesareian scar.”
“I didn’t forget,” I say, shrugging. “I just promised her I’d never tell anyone.”
“But she’s—”
“Dead now. Yeah, gee, you know what? I know that.” I frown. “It’s just hard. Anyway, why do you need to know about that?”
“I’m not sure yet. I just have a feeling it’s got something to do with the reason she died.”
“You do, huh?”
Ben’s “feelings” are something I’ve learned not to ignore. He’s known for his intuitive skills, not that he’s like one of those fancy profilers on television. He just thinks things through better than most, while seeming not to move ahead much at all.
Besides, wine has always loosened my tongue. It doesn’t take much on an empty stomach.
“It was a long time ago,” I say after we’ve ordered food. “Back in the eighties. Marti had been working in Central America a lot, so I didn’t see her much. One day she showed up at my door, already in labor. It was shortly after I’d married Jeffrey.”
“She came here? To Carmel?”
“Right. I tried to get her to tell the father about the baby so he could help her, but she was adamant. Said it would be better for everyone concerned if he never knew. She wouldn’t even tell me who the father was.”
“Maybe he was married,” Ben says.
“Maybe.”
“What did she want from you?” he asks.
“Only to stand by her, I think. Her parents had been killed a few years before in a plane crash in Honduras, and except for Ned, that left her pretty much alone in the world. She never had much time for making close friends, with all the traveling and the kind of work she did.”
“So you were with her throughout her labor?”
“Yes.”
Ben is silent a moment. “What did Jeffrey think of all that?” he asks finally.
“He never knew. He was away when it happened, and Marti swore me to secrecy afterward.”
“Still…wives usually tell their husbands things they keep secret from others, don’t they?”
“Not in this case.”
He doesn’t push, and I don’t have to tell him how little I trusted my husband, even that early in our marriage.
“One thing I don’t get,” he says, shaking his head. “How could she have covered up her pregnancy? Wasn’t she well known by then?”
“Yes, but Marti was always very thin. She was able to hide the fact that she was pregnant, she told me, for the first six months. After that, she took a sabbatical from work and went off to some cabin in the woods.”
“A cabin in the woods? Sounds kind of rough.”
“Marti was used to difficult conditions. She was also very strong.”
“Where was this cabin?”
“I think she said in Maine. A friend loaned it to her.”
“Where was the baby born?”
“Right here in Monterey.”
