Chapter 15
Many hours later, Morning bustled around the kitchen, putting on coffee and trying to show some spirit. She wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. She was afraid the men were leaving, and her heart was already aching. She thought about everything that had happened and how her house, her safety net, had been ripped away by Poppy’s activities. She stopped and stared out in the backyard, thinking about the man who had run across it.
It had probably been Ken, and he’d been in the house as one of her guests. He was the one who had tossed the rooms. He was the one who had placed the stuffed mouse on her father’s bed. Its sole purpose was a psychological dig into the minds of Geir and Jager as they sought information regarding their teammate Mouse. She was grateful she knew now, but, at the same time, it was horrifying to think somebody could just come into her place and do something like that.
A hand, gentle and warm and huge, landed on her shoulder. She turned to see Geir looking down at her, a worried look on his face. She bolstered a smile. “I’m fine, just lots to think about.”
He nodded and tugged her into his arms for a quick hug. “Hopefully the worst of it’s over now.”
She nodded, her eyes downcast. She chewed on her bottom lip until he reached out his finger, nudging her chin up.
“What’s the matter?”
She took a huge breath. “Are you leaving now?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, just stared into her eyes. “Soon, yes.”
She nodded and stepped back, trying to detach herself from the pain she knew was already coming.
She turned to look at him. “Do you mean, in the house?”
“In the house, in San Diego?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything has happened so fast. Do I want to stay here any longer? No, not now.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Am I open to options? Yes. Absolutely, yes.”
Just then Jager walked into the kitchen. “That was the detective. Poppy is awake at the hospital and wants to know if we want to meet with him there.”
Geir snapped to action. “We so do.” He turned to look at her. “Will you be okay if we disappear for a little bit?”
She smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s eight o’clock. I have to be at the gallery at ten anyway.”
He smiled, leaned closer, kissed her hard and said, “I’m sorry I can’t accompany you like I had originally planned. But don’t worry. You’ll be great.”
And just like that they were gone. She scrubbed her face, tears already in the corners of her eyes. She’d be great, huh? Maybe not so much anymore. But she didn’t have time to wallow.
She had to wrap the paintings and get them into the car securely. And that would take some time. Plus, get herself presentable.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and walked up to the studio, happy the worst was over. She hoped Poppy lived, and she hoped he went to prison for the rest of his life. So many lives had been ruined. She couldn’t even imagine how Ken got involved in this. What kind of money do you pay to have somebody stay in a bed-and-breakfast and just cause general chaos? She realized Ken was toying with Geir and Jager and likely checking to see what they’d learned about Poppy and Mouse—if anything.
After getting dressed, she headed to her studio. There she opened the French doors, turned on the lights, smiled when she saw the painting she’d completed the night before. She unfolded a table she kept up there and brought out canvas wrapping. Gently she wrapped the four paintings, doing the black one last.
Carefully she carried them one at a time to her car, placing them in the back, the seat folded down so the canvases could lie on top of each other. When they were secured, she went back inside, checked herself in the mirror to make sure she looked okay, which today was white capri pants, a turquoise blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves that flowed and a matching scarf in her hair. She had applied a little bit of makeup, then decided she looked bohemian enough today to be an artist. Besides, after only a few hours’ sleep, she could do only so much to hide her lack of sleep. She grabbed her purse and her keys, locked up the house and walked out.
At her car she stopped and took another look at the place she’d called home for a long time. The thing was, it didn’t feel like home anymore. Maybe it never would again.
As she sat in her car, she put on her seat belt and slowly backed out of the driveway. She stopped when she saw Nancy crossing the street to go to Morning’s house to look after the place, holding up a big sign that read You’ll be great. Good luck.
Morning honked her horn and headed to the gallery.
This was such a momentous time for her, along with everything else that had gone on recently. It had helped her set her priorities straight. And she realized how much she wanted to paint, how much she wanted to explore this new part of herself, this new technique, this new bit of creation. She didn’t even know how to explain it.
Half an hour later, she pulled into the gallery parking lot and walked inside to see if Leon was there. He was waiting for her.
“Did you bring the paintings?” he asked, his tone brisk.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll get them from the car.”
He nodded. “Place whatever you brought on that table.” He pointed to it.
With a quick nod again, she walked outside to her car and carefully unloaded the four canvases. When she had them on the table, she stood nervously beside them. They were still wrapped.
He waved at them impatiently. “Open them up.”
She unwrapped them, realizing he had set out four easels for her. The paintings could only be seen from one corner in the room. She took a deep breath and carefully placed each one on an easel until everything was presented properly. There was no sign of him.
She waited nervously.
Finally he came out of his office, the look on his face bland, as though he were only going through the motions, like he didn’t want to be here. Or rather, didn’t want her to be here. He walked around to stand at her side.
He took a look. She heard him catch his breath, noted the way he leaned in, his gaze narrowing as he silently moved from one painting to the next, then back to the first again. His shoulders relaxed, his demeanor changing, and finally he turned to her. “You’re very talented.”
She’d been holding herself so tensely, but now she wanted to throw her arms around him, hug him. But she didn’t dare. She did manage to force out a light breath, and, with an elegant nod, she said, “Thank you.”
Inside she couldn’t stop smiling.
“Any idea what she’ll do with the place?” Jager asked as they walked into the hospital.
“No clue,” Geir said. “Hate to see her stay in it all alone though. The nightmares alone could be pretty rough.”
Both men nodded. They knew exactly what nightmares entailed and how debilitating they could be. “Do you think she’ll move?”
“I don’t know,” Geir said softly. “It’s hardly fair to ask her. This is her home.”
“Oh, I think that cocoon has been ripped open already. I think a butterfly is ready to emerge,” Jager said. “All butterflies have an instinctive homing ability. You just point her in the direction, and she’ll come quite happily.”
“Is it fair though?”
“Absolutely it is. She can paint anywhere in the world. And, after this show, if you’re right and if her paintings are as good as you say they are, she’ll make a hell of a name for herself. New Mexico is big in the arts too. She would no longer be limited to just San Diego.”
Geir nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. But I don’t want to rush her. I could come back in a week or two, maybe stay with her for a few days, see how we do.”
“You could. But I have a suspicion you won’t need to.”
They walked up to the room they were told Poppy was in to see a policeman standing guard outside. He took one look at them and barked, “Who are you?”
They identified themselves and said Detective Nelson was expecting them.
The cop nodded, opened the door, poked his head in and told the detective, who apparently was inside, that they were here. The policeman nodded, and the two men entered.
Another guard was inside. Poppy was no longer the big robust man he’d been with a gun. The bravado and stuffing was gone. The heart attack had taken much of that away from him. He glared at the men. Even the defiance in his eyes was only half-hearted. Finally he asked, “Why do you care about me after all this time? Isn’t it too late to give a damn?”
“We know you shot the young man in one of your houses and Ken in the B&B office. But the dead man found in your house, stabbed weeks or months ago? Plus the dead man in an alley, … are they both your victims?” Jager asked.
Poppy stared as if trying to remember a couple victims from a pool of possibilities. Then he gave a slight disinterested shrug. “I don’t know the victim in the alley, but the lifestyle of those who spend time there is dangerous.”
“And the man in your house?” Jager nudged. He shared a glance with Geir.
“What can I say? He wasn’t the type of man I thought he was. I didn’t plan to kill him, but … he made me mad.”
“Mad?” Geir asked softly. “You buried a knife in his chest.”
“He said something ugly about someone I love.” His gaze sharpened. “That man was nothing.”
There was a moment of silence, then Poppy, coughing slightly, said, “But he’s not why you’re here. So why?” He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Poppy’s eyes popped open. He rolled his head to the side and groaned. “That damn kid. God, I loved him. And he loved me.”
“What can you tell me about him?” Geir asked.
“Only that I loved him like a son. I loved him like a lover. He was everything to me. And he felt the same way. But he had dreams that didn’t include me. Whereas he was my dream.”
“Why did Mouse leave?”
There was another silence, this one for a long moment.
Geir figured Poppy was trying to figure out how much they knew and how much trouble he was in. “We already know you forged the documents, and he stepped into Ryan Hanson’s shoes. But that wasn’t the name he was born with, was it?”
Poppy’s eyebrows rose. “Interesting …”
“It’s the only way he could become a SEAL, wasn’t it?”
“Absolutely. After he left home, he and Lance moved in with me here for a while, until they fell out, and Lance left. But that whole time, the dream of becoming a SEAL was all Mouse would talk about. Who are you guys, and how do you even know he was a SEAL?”
“He was in our unit,” Jager said. “What did you do with the man he replaced?”
Poppy winced. “He met with an unfortunate accident. I felt bad about that. But I’d have done anything for Mouse.”
“So why place the stuffed mouse in Morning’s house?” Geir asked, bewildered. “Mouse is dead. What could you even hope to achieve? And how did you know we were here?”
Poppy looked at him. “You really don’t know, do you?”
Geir shook his head. “What is it we don’t know?”
At that, Poppy started to laugh. Great big waves of laughter. “Wow. You really don’t know. Well, I won’t be the one to tell you. You’ve come this far on your own. You’ll have to do the rest of the work yourself.” Then he coughed. And he coughed and coughed.
The detective ushered them out into the hall and called for a nurse. The machine went off inside the room, and a crash cart and a medical team came racing.
Geir stared at Poppy. “That’s not fair. That’s so not fair.”
The detective reached out a hand. “Easy. He might survive this. He might not. You know a little more. Maybe that’s enough.”
Jager’s voice was hard. “Hell no, it’s not enough. What did he mean, we came this far and can work for the rest?”
Detective Nelson looked at him and said, “Well, maybe you should tell me what he meant about the young man who met his early demise. Are you telling me Poppy murdered somebody?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll find Poppy murdered dozens of people,” Geir said quietly. “The two in his house for sure, Ken at Morning’s B&B. Also the man whose identity Mouse stole. And we have to consider Poppy might have been involved in the murders of our families and friends—although why, I don’t know. Originally he did everything he could to help Mouse reach his dream. Instead of Mouse going through the training like every other naval officer, Poppy took a shortcut that cost a young man his life and gave us somebody incredibly poorly trained. It explains all the times we had to help Mouse deal with things. We couldn’t believe how absolutely inept he was. But it’s amazing because we never went on active missions. We trained most of the time, and he was gone a lot of the time. He also broke his leg and was always sick. He spent way too much time out of training. It was a joke how he was not SEAL material, but he was part of us, a part of our unit,” Jager added. “So we did everything we could to make him do better.”
Geir shook his head and said, “Goddamn it. We’re so damn close.”
Just then the hospital room door opened, and the doctor stepped out. He looked at the detective and shook his head. Then he turned and walked away.
And Geir realized Poppy had had the last laugh after all.