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MAGGIE KENNEDY-O’KEEFE
Monday, June 15, 2020
It isn’t a surprise that Nola doesn’t stop when I try to pull her over. As she speeds past me my head fills with memories of the day that Eve died. Her mother was frantic when she came home and found that Eve wasn’t there. I had just gotten home from babysitting for the Harpers when Charlotte Knox came scurrying across the street wanting to know if I’d seen Eve. I told her I hadn’t, that I’d been babysitting all afternoon and evening. She tearfully asked me where I thought Eve could be and I ticked off all the usual haunts: Nick’s house, the library, some classmates’ homes.
Can you help Nola look for her?Charlotte asked. I looked to my dad who nodded and told us to stay together. Nola looked put out but ran inside her house and came out with two flashlights.
They still live next to my dad though I haven’t talked to Nola in years. I know what Nola’s like, but even so I want to get to her before I talk to her mother. Charlotte Knox has always been fragile and I want someone there with her when I tell her about the kids finding Eve’s boot, even if that someone has to be Nola.
As I drive through the streets of Grotto, images of Eve’s battered face pop into my head. For many years the only way to keep the memories at bay was alcohol. This worked only for so long. Today, I try to keep the happy ones front and center. Eve and me at thirteen exploring the maze of caves below our neighborhood at the bottom of the bluffs, talking and laughing and just being kids. It was all so innocent then. Nola lagging a few steps behind saying that she was going to tell on us the entire way.
Eve and me babysitting at the Harper house, their two young kids, Riley and Rebecca, running circles around us as we painted each other’s fingernails with Nola sitting all alone on the Knoxes’ front step. Mr. Harper, an attorney, and Mrs. Harper, a stay-at-home mom, didn’t like Nola hanging around their kids. No one did. I don’t want her in my house, Joyce Harper would say. When Nola was ten, Mrs. Harper found her outside holding Riley’s hand and heading toward the edge of the bluff behind the house.
She’s dangerous, I remember Mrs. Harper angrily telling my dad. If I hadn’t looked out the window and gotten to him, Riley would have gone right over. I swear to God she was going to walk him right off the ledge.
My dad calmed her down, said he would go talk to Nola and Mrs. Knox, but Mrs. Harper never forgot.
Since Nola ditched me, I decide to touch base with the next person on my list. Nick Brady.
Nick was Eve’s first and only boyfriend. I’ve never been a big fan of Nick. He was Adonis handsome but beneath his seemingly good nature, I thought he was an asshole. Everyone else thought that Eve was the luckiest girl in school. Nick’s parents were rich and he liked to flaunt it. Dressed in the most expensive clothes and shoes, he sped around in his BMW like he owned the town. That’s not why I didn’t like Nick though.
What I hated about Nick was the way Eve changed whenever she was around him. The way she became meek and mild and seemed to forget every single opinion she ever had.
I know I’m not one to talk. At the same time that Eve and Nick were dating I’d been in love in that irrational, soul-sucking kind of way that leaves you heavy-limbed and thick-tongued. But Eve knew better. Was better. Plus, I had a sense that Nick hurt her. Emotionally, for sure, but I thought he could be abusing her physically too. I saw the marks. The fingerprint-sized bruises on the small of Eve’s back. I saw the way she winced when she pulled her hair back in a ponytail or slung a backpack over her shoulder. She always had an excuse: I tripped; Nola and I were messing around; I’m such a klutz.
But why do you like him?I remember asking Eve and she could never give me a real answer. What’s not to like? was the best she could come up with.
Adult Nick, against everyone’s expectations, did not follow in his father’s footsteps into the lumber business. Instead, he took over his mother’s gift shop which he ran with his pretty, docile wife, at least until their famously contentious divorce. There were rumors of domestic abuse and affairs. The ex-wife got the house, the kids and a whole bunch of money. Nick got the boutique and a crappy apartment next to the bowling alley.
Of course Nick was the top suspect in Eve’s death at first, but he was cleared pretty early on in the investigation. One of his friends vouched for his whereabouts and there wasn’t any physical evidence to link him to the crime. The only reason I want to talk to Nick is because Charlotte and Nola Knox were convinced that Nick was Eve’s killer and made his life a living hell for a long time. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He did. Just not for Eve’s death.
I drive to Juniper Street. Grotto Gifts & Things is still the upscale, expensive tourist trap it’s always been except that it could use a fresh coat of paint and a good scrubbing. Ever since Nick’s wife made an exit, the shop has taken on a neglected, forlorn air. Much like Nick himself.
I see a few of my brother’s smaller art pieces for sale in the display window. Metal sculptures twisted and welded into whimsical shapes. Colin is a very talented artist, I have to give him that. Beyond the sculptures, I see that the shop is empty except for Nick who is sitting behind the counter and staring down at his phone. A bell jingles as I come through the door. The air smells like a cinnamon-scented candle and fast-food French fries. Nick doesn’t bother to look up. So much for service with a smile.
“Hey, Nick,” I say. “How’s it going?” Nick takes his time responding to me. He slides one finger across his phone a few more times before looking up.
“Living the dream,” he says, finally setting his phone aside. Panting, he heaves himself up from his stool. His once handsome face is now fleshy and formless and his girth spills over his belt. He breathes heavily at the exertion of getting to his feet. “How about you, Maggie? You look like you’re about to pop.”
“Not just yet,” I say. “Listen, I’m not sure if you heard, but...”
“Yeah, I know. Everyone knows. You’re looking into Eve’s murder again,” he says in a bored tone that infuriates me. He was supposed to love Eve and now he can’t even be bothered. He’s pissing me off. “This means Nola Knox is going to go on a frickin’ rant about me again.” Nick shakes his head. “That bitch,” he says. “She better not come anywhere near me. I swear to God I’ll claim Stand Your Ground if I have to.”
“Geez, don’t say stuff like that, Nick,” I say. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. Besides, that’s not a law here.”
Nick comes out from behind the counter and peers out the window as if expecting to see Nola standing outside with a baseball bat. “Can you blame me?” he asks, looking back at me.
I can’t, but I don’t say anything. In the corner of the store is a wall of merchandise expressly for babies. I walk over and run my fingers over a toppled pile of onesies with Gotta Grotto across the front. What does that even mean? I want to ask but instead I begin to refold them into a neat stack.
“No offense, but what makes you think you can solve it now?” Nick asks. “It’s been twenty-five years. What’s an old boot going to prove?”
I give him a stiff smile but don’t answer. “I’m reviewing all the files, reinterviewing witnesses. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” With hotheads like Nick Brady, it’s always good to make them think they’ve got a choice.
“You?” Nick laughed. “You’re investigating? Isn’t that a little weird? You were best friends.”
“It is upsetting,” I say. “I loved Eve like a sister. I feel like I owe it to her, don’t you?” I’m laying it on a little thick. It’s much more effective to get a guy like Nick to think he is doing you a favor. That you hate to inconvenience him, but his thoughts and insights are imperative, crucial to the investigation.
Nick puffs out his already massive chest. “Yeah, I guess so. What do you want to know?”
