The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,78

coffeehouse napkin. The Gould house was in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristos. He rang the doorbell but didn’t hear any chimes inside, so he knocked. A man with a long beard answered the door in slippers. Mr. Gould asked him inside before Gil had a chance to say who he was. In the foyer were stacks of boxes.

Gil introduced himself and asked, “Are you moving?”

“Oh, no. We moved in here about a year ago. We’re just taking out time getting unpacked.” The boxes would have driven Susan crazy.

In the living room were more boxes. The bay windows looked out on a piñon forest. A big dog, maybe a Ridgeback, took up most of the couch. Oblivious, Mr. Gould sat down in the only other seat. Gil was left standing.

“You’re here about Miss Baca. Poor girl. My wife and I liked her very much. She was one of Lacey’s favorite teachers.” Mr. Gould had an accent that Gil couldn’t figure out.

“Is Lacey here? I have a few questions for her.”

“She may be.” He yelled, “Lacey,” several times without getting up. Someone ran down the stairs “Yeah, Dad?”

Lacey Gould looked at Gil curiously as she swatted the Ridgeback off the couch, saying, “Move, Beck.” She folded her bare feet under her, her gray, wrinkled T-shirt blending in with the sofa.

“What’s going on, Dad?” she asked, but before he could answer she said to Gil, “I know who you are. You’re the cop checking out Miss Baca’s murder.”

“I am. How’d you know?”

Lacey shrugged, twisting a necklace with a blue bead on it around her finger.

“How well did you know Miss Baca?” Gil asked.

“I didn’t really know her. But I liked her. She was nice.”

“How well do you know Sandra Paine?”

Lacey glanced at her father. “Let’s go up to my room.”

She ran up the steps, with Gil and the Ridgeback following. Gil had to do a zigzag to avoid the boxes in the hallway.

Lacey seemed to be the only member of the Gould family who had unpacked. Her bed was made with tie-dyed sheets. The walls and ceiling were covered with old movie posters. It made the room claustrophobic.

“Beck, get out,” she said, slamming the door on the dog. She plopped onto the bed and stared up at a poster of Cary Grant in North by Northwest.

Gil wandered the room, looking at the posters. “So what’s your favorite old movie?” he asked.

“Give me a year.”

“Nineteen thirty-five.”

“Drama or musical?”

“Musical.”

“Too easy. Top Hat.”

Gil picked up a postcard of a brooding Gary Cooper from 1930. “Does Sandra watch old movies with you?” he asked.

“Sometimes. She’s learning.”

“Are you and Sandra close?”

“I’m her best friend.” She said it matter-of-factly.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he asked. Gil was hoping that they could talk in generalities; he didn’t want to get into a conversation about the Polaroids.

“You want to know about the pictures Sandra and her boyfriend took.”

“How do you know that?”

She answered with another shrug.

“What do you know about it?” he asked, still trying to keep it vague.

“That she met him about a month ago and it’s been lovely.” Lacey sighed heavily.

“Do you know the boyfriend’s name?”

She rolled over on her bed and started picking at a thread on the tie-dyed sheet. “He made her promise not to tell. She could have told me, but we thought it would be cheating. I know all about what they did together,” Lacey offered. This was the topic that Gil wanted to avoid unless one of her parents was around.

“Would you be willing to talk with me about this in front of your father?”

“Yeah, right. Not in a million.”

He cracked open the bedroom door, but she took no notice. Now, anyone walking by could see into the room. “What did they do together?”

“Everything. There was this article in some magazine that Sandra reads about A Hundred Ways to Give Your Man Oral Sex or whatever and Sandra had done all of them.”

Gil winced and changed the line of his questioning.

“Do you know where they spent most of their time together?”

“At his place, mostly.”

“Do you know where that was?”

Another shrug.

“So it wasn’t her dad?”

“That’s disgusting. Have sex with your dad? Eww.” She made a face and shook her head. “It was totally not her dad. Blech. She would have told me.”

“How about a friend of her dad’s?”

Lacey looked thoughtful. “I think it was some guy she met recently.”

“Was it Mr. Hammond?”

“That teacher from school?” Lacey thought for a second. “I don’t think so. I’ve never seen them together. And Sandra once