Disorderly Conduct. Mary Feliz

a fire coming up the ridge? Dad would have known that was a dangerous place to be. Any idiot would have known that. If he’d gone down there deliberately, he could have climbed out, right? So, something must have happened. Has the coroner checked for other injuries or did he just look at the guy and say, ‘Oh, crispy critter. Died of wildfire burns.’”

      I winced at the insensitivity and harshness of Teddy’s words. David and Brian appeared shocked, then seemed to be battling the kind of hysterical laughter that often emerges in the face of death. I signaled to them to head outside, where they had less chance of offending or distracting anyone while they got their emotions under control.

      Tess shook her head and bit her lip. “You’re right, Teddy. He did have additional injuries. A skull fracture, the medical examiner said. Consistent with a fall and a collision with a rock.”

      “But if he fell, why did he fall? Let’s say this guy truly is Dad. It’s not, but look at what happened. Dad must have been attacked to have fallen and been unable to climb back up. Someone else might have fallen and hit their head, but Dad—he always won the chicken fights in the pool because no one could knock him off balance.”

      I felt a palpable shift in the emotional tenor of the group. Moments ago, I’d felt pity for Teddy and his denial of his father’s mortality, let alone his actual death. But the boy’s arguments were convincing. I was still certain that the dead man found on the ridge was Patrick, but my vision of what could have happened up there had suddenly shifted. This was no accident. Patrick had been murdered.

      Chapter 5

      Satellites and early warning systems give us time to prepare for many natural disasters. Other crises, like earthquakes or terrorist attacks, might occur at any moment. Your safety may hinge on the planning you do ahead of time. For example, you may have a great emergency kit at home, but what about in your car? You’ll need emergency supplies there too. Some of the most important things to include are clothing and shoes that will protect you from the weather if you need to walk an extended distance for help.

      From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald

      Simplicity Itself Organizing Services

      Sunday, August 6, Afternoon

      Teddy continued, “Did the guy have any other problems, like a busted ankle or a messed-up knee? Some reason to have fallen on his own?” Teddy pressed his case without giving anyone a chance to answer. “Have you ever known Dad not to suffer? I mean, complaining was kind of his thing. If he was hurt—really hurt—like, from something that could disable or kill him, he would have moaned so loudly we’d have heard it from here, right?”

      Teddy was exaggerating, but it was possible we could have heard an injured Patrick from our house, especially last night, when we’d all been on edge, awake, and watchful, eyeing the fire’s progress.

      Max coughed and then laughed. “I mean no disrespect, but Teddy’s right. Patrick wasn’t one to underplay an injury. Remember the landscaping day?”

      One by one, the rest of us smiled, then snickered, then laughed until tears rolled down our faces. As soon as one of us began to get our emotions under control, someone else would set us off again. After what seemed hours but was probably only minutes, I was able to speak. “Max is right. Patrick dropped that landscaping rock on his foot, and I’m sure it hurt, but he bellowed until every parent who was a nurse, paramedic, or physician had weighed in on the injury. He spent the rest of the day with it propped up, ‘supervising,’ while everyone else worked.”

      As memories went, it was one we’d treasure from our time with Patrick and with our children. All the parents and kids at the middle school had been asked to provide the manual labor required over two spring weekends to revamp the school’s landscaping, which had come to resemble a moonscape during California’s prolonged drought. Now, drought-tolerant native plants tough enough to withstand incursions from middle schoolers had created a welcoming, eco-friendly campus. Both weekends had been laughter-filled family events.

      Teddy interrupted with a sound of protest, but Max forestalled his comment. “You’re right, Teddy. Your dad was one of those guys who was an asset to a team. He kept us all laughing with his goofy stories, and we had a blast. Could barely move the next day, but we had a great time.”

      No one spoke while we all took a moment to accept that none of us would work with Patrick again. While we’d all continue to feel his absence, Tess and Teddy were bereft and on their own. Teddy might not be ready to accept it, but he would have to, soon enough. For the first time, I realized how hard it must be for a grieving spouse to summon the energy to deal with all the practical concerns surrounding a death, cope with their own pain, and pick up the pieces when their children fell apart. The last thing that Tess needed right now was to have us camped out on her floor, along with our cats and boisterous golden retriever. The Olmos cats were nowhere to be found. I suspected they were relishing the solitude of a bedroom closet and wondered whether Tess and Teddy would soon be looking for similar comforting hidey-holes.

      I tried to capture Max’s attention. We needed to come up with a new plan to wait out the firestorm. Surely we knew someplace else close enough to allow us quick access after the blaze burned itself out, but far enough away to be safe. We could find a hotel. One that would take Belle and the cats.

      Jason’s voice jolted me back to the matter at hand. “Teddy, would it help if you could see the body the ranger found?” I noted that he avoided referring to Patrick by name. “To confirm your mom’s observation, or to let us know we need to look in another direction to find your dad and figure out who this guy is?”

      Teddy’s gaze moved from Jason to his mom, and then to the tabletop, where he pulled at a loose thread in the fringe of a woven place mat.

      “When you put it that way...” Teddy’s voice faded, but he didn’t look up. He cleared his throat and started again. “It sounds as though I don’t trust my mom to identify my dad. I know there are, like, fingerprints and DNA and stuff to be sure. But pieces of this story don’t add up. I mean, my dad? He was just an engineer who liked to run. He wasn’t the kind of guy who gets killed and burnt up. Not even by accident.”

      Teddy’s voice broke. He lowered his head, swallowed hard, wiped his eyes, and started over. “I guess I have to see for myself. You know?” He raised his head, confident and with a touch of bravado, as though he expected someone to argue with him. But then his expression quavered, and doubt snuck in. “I mean...he’s not gross or scary, is he?”

      Tess let out a short, quiet noise I couldn’t characterize, probably because she, like the rest of us, couldn’t believe we were sitting at her kitchen table overlooking her idyllic and serene backyard, discussing the condition of her husband’s dead body. There were no words for the horror we felt.

      Jason broke in before anyone else could speak. “In my experience, Teddy, a body at the morgue looks more like a wax figure or a statue than it looks like the person you knew when he or she was alive. The outward appearance is similar, but everything that once animated the statue, everything that made it the person you loved, is no longer there. But it’s not scary.” Jason watched Teddy closely, and he must have noted that he still appeared wary and confused. “Look, have you ever walked past a neighbor’s house and been certain the family was on vacation? From the outside, the house looks the same. They’ve got lights and sprinklers on timers, and someone is taking care of their garbage and mail—but the life of the house is gone.”

      Teddy nodded.

      “It’s like that, I think,” Jason said. “Just the shell, with no one home. It’s no more the person you loved than, say, an eggshell is a chick after it hatches.”

      I smiled despite my grief, admiring Jason’s turn of phrase, his gentle, soothing voice, and his patience with Teddy.

      “I can understand that you’d want to see for yourself,” Jason said.

      Teddy stopped stroking Mozart and raised his head. “Do I need to set that up? Call the medical examiner or the funeral home?”

      “There’s no