Tall Man Down - 8. Chapter 8

Ted Catlin was sitting on the porch of his mother’s house when Pete and I arrived, close to ten-thirty. He wasn’t alone. Beside him on the hanging swing was a girl I’d seen at the funeral home but wouldn’t have thought would interest Ted.

Not that I knew that he was “interested,” though they sat close enough together. A can of something in Ted’s hand might have been beer. His jacket and tie hung over the porch rail. His shirt was open maybe a button more than necessary, and he was barefoot. All this seemed to embarrass him slightly when he stood to greet us.

He shook my hand and smiled at Pete. “My mother’s inside. We all needed to relax, on our own. I would’ve picked a better place if I’d remembered you were coming.”

Once again, we told him we were sorry about his father, and he thanked us. Then he introduced the girl. Her name was Jenny, and she lived a few houses away.

As we spoke, Sandra came onto the porch, dressed mainly as she had been earlier, though also without her shoes. She said something about our being “just on time” and added they’d only gotten home themselves. Then she invited us in.

Inside, a wide hallway separated the living and dining rooms. Oak stairs led up to the second floor and a passageway near them led to the kitchen. The house was laid out much like the President’s at Waldron, though this one looked far more comfortable.

The President’s House had been decorated dark and formally, maybe by tradition and committee. Some presidents lived in it, but Catlin mainly used it for dinners: once every year, in groups of ten-or-so, each faculty and staff member was trotted over to spend an evening. I’d been to those gatherings six-or-eight times, but I’d never been invited to this house.

Sandra offered us coffee or tea and an assortment of desserts. These were already waiting on the dining table, I guessed from previously visiting guests. Normally, Pete won’t drink coffee that late, but I guess he didn’t want to fuss.

We relaxed as much as anyone can after a viewing. Sandra seemed different from earlier, still sad, though without the crispness. Like Ted, she seemed to have one more button open than needed.

“I know almost nothing about the police department,” she soon informed us, maybe directed a bit more at me than at Pete. We’d made polite conversation until then, but this seemed clearly why I’d been invited. “And I’m sure what I’ve seen in movies has little to do with reality.”

“It’s better than it used to be,” I said. “Some of it’s not far off.”

“I’m not sure that makes me happier.” She was smiling, and we all laughed. “But it’s nice to know. Still, what I guess I’d like to find out is what happens next. They’ve done an autopsy and seem to think Steve died by accident. Will that be it?”

“Do you think it was an accident?”

She seemed surprised at my question. Or maybe at my being so direct. Or maybe she didn’t expect any questions at all. But I needed to know how she felt.

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“It could,” I offered carefully. “What you told Don Burris – the police detective?...” She nodded. “...on Tuesday, could start a longer investigation.”

She smiled again, “I wish I could remember what I said. I’m no longer sure. I know it’s what I thought at the time, but...” She hesitated. “Well, I almost think I should let all that go. I guess that’s what I want to know. If the police will simply accept that, and let things end naturally?”

For a moment, I considered what Don had told me on Wednesday. Also what I felt he’d been thinking. “The police may be as divided as you are,” I told Sandra. “I’m sure you know how many people’s opinions can differ. But if Don and his supervisor – and any of the other officers involved – feel that Steve died by accident... and if no one builds another case... then, yes, that could end it.”

“Will it take very long?”

Again, I tried to be reassuring. “It depends... Investigations tend to be slow and careful – no matter what the situation. But if, in a few more weeks, nothing comes up, then that’s what’ll go on record.”

Sandra smiled. “Nothing will ‘come up.’ At least, not on my end.”

“I didn’t mean...”

She smiled again and then went on. “There are things, of course, that I’d rather not have known. Personal things – about our family. But they’re mainly gossip. They mean nothing.” She suddenly laughed. “I should stop being so defensive.”

Pete and I smiled.

“And it’s not that I can’t accept Steve’s death,” Sandra said. “No matter how unexpected. Not that I’m trying to bring him back – though that would be wonderful. But things wouldn’t immediately change, even if he were here. We both had a bit of work to do.”

Again, she paused, maybe wondering how much she needed to say.

“It’s just that when you spend so much time with a person,” she continued. “So focused on what he likes and needs... And even knowing Steve’s sense of humor... irony... It’s still hard to believe that he’d finally take one damned bath, and something like this would happen.”

She paused again, as if aware she was leaving out Catlin’s being high and somewhat drunk – which she had to have learned from the autopsy.

“And I want the police to investigate,” she went on. “That’s important, and it’s their job. But I really don’t want any publicity.” She sighed. “I’ve already had calls from the media – TV stations... magazines. And as much as I want to honor Steve and give the personal interviews that would let people know a bit more about his life and work... Well, if everyone’s going to be digging for ‘How did he die?’ then I just don’t want that to come up. I’m sure you understand.” She hesitated. “I’m saying this badly, I know. Steve always said I was a sloppy thinker – well, slightly sloppy. He said I got too focused on details and sometimes missed the main ideas.”

“You’ve got to let go of this, Mom,” Ted Catlin suddenly interrupted. He was standing behind us, in the archway separating the living room from the hall. I hadn’t heard him come in but guessed, from the porch, our conversation could be easily followed.

“You’ll just get upset again,” he went on. “Over things no one can control.”

Sandra looked at him. “You don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said gently. But it was still a reprimand. “I know you don’t want to hear this... And I know this isn’t the time... But there are things you can’t understand yet.”

Ted said nothing. He obviously didn’t agree. But Pete and I were there – as guests – and I’m sure Ted had been raised to be polite. Instead of objecting, he puffed out his cheeks and slowly blew air towards his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he told his mother – and his apology seemed to include Pete and me. Ted looked at Sandra a moment longer, then said. “I’m walking Jenny home. That’s all I came in to say.”

He kissed Sandra on the top of her head, bending somewhat awkwardly to do that and resting his hands on her shoulders.

“I’ll be two minutes.”

She nodded, and I stood – for no apparent reason. When Ted left, Sandra looked after him for a moment, then was silent. In that quiet, Pete finished his cake, and I sipped cool coffee.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” I finally asked. Sandra turned to me as if surprised. Her thoughts were naturally somewhere else.

“The police detective who was here yesterday,” she began. “Don Burris?” I nodded. “Do you know him?”

“He’s a friend of mine – of ours.” I included Pete.

“Would he tell you how things are progressing?”

I considered that, then smiled. “He won’t say anything he shouldn’t.”

“I understand that. But I guess there are things... Well, if I knew about them, it might make me feel better.”

“We’re not making promises,” Pete quickly put in – as if I knew nothing about diplomacy. “Gil doesn’t really know what Don can say.”

“But he’s very open,” I assured Sandra. “Very straight with people. If you have any questions, you just have to ask.”

She seemed to consider that. “He seemed so... inexperienced.”

I had to laugh. “Don’t let that fool you. He’s a small town cop, but he’s been one for almost thirty years.”

That seemed to let her relax. A little. And for a few minutes, we talked about Don and some of what he’d accomplished. Then Pete pointed out the time, unfortunately reminding us where we all needed to be in the morning.

“I’ll have to start answering phones again,” Sandra acknowledged. We were walking to the front door. “Since Tuesday, I’ve been letting them all go to message. So many people are calling.”

“If there’s any way we can help...” Pete repeated.

“I’ll be fine – after tomorrow. After the weekend, at least.” She looked around. “This is the first night – since Tuesday – that we haven’t had friends and family here. And even my parents are still sleeping upstairs.”

I guess Pete and I weren’t considered “friends.”

“Are you taking off from work?” Pete asked.

“I may just quit,” Sandra replied. “Or maybe that’s the way I feel now. I don’t have any projects pending... no major ones... Just little things I can quickly finish up. And it’s not like I ever needed a job – Steve’s always been very generous.”

Pete and I smiled. This was shop talk among designers.

“I’ll call soon,” Pete assured her.

“Please do.”

“And you keep promising to stop by the shop.”

“ I will... but call me anyway. I’ll try to answer.”

She held Pete’s hand for a moment. Then she said, “Thank you,” looking straight at me.

“I’m glad we could help,” I responded.

“You’ve made me feel better.”

I smiled, trying to give the same reassurance Pete seemed to. As we moved out the front door, we found Ted Catlin again, this time sitting alone on the swing. He nodded as I did but said nothing.

“Do you think they’ll be all right?” Pete asked, once we were near the car. We were at the street end of the driveway and could see Sandra silhouetted in the open front door. Maybe she was waiting to wave. Or maybe she didn’t know what to do next.

Pete saw her and quickly decided, “We shouldn’t have left. She wasn’t ready.”

“Do you want to go back?”

For a moment, he seemed to think. “No... that would be presuming.” He paused again. “I wish there were more we could do.”

I waited till he was ready. And – eventually – he nodded. Though as I started the engine, Pete was still looking at the house. The front door was now closed, but Ted was still slowly swinging in the shadows. The second floor of the house was dark, so if Lisa was home, I guessed – along with her grandparents – she’d gone to sleep.

Our drive home was short and quiet. Nollie was dozing on the couch when we got in, and Josh was in his crib. I made sure Nollie knew exactly how early we needed her in the morning then sent her off to her parents.

After I’d locked up, I found Pete standing by Josh’s crib. They were both lit by the soft glow of a clown lamp. I held Pete for a minute, while also watching Josh. Then we went to bed.