Deadly Memories

by Joanne Fluke

  “And I travel to all of these places?”

  “Yes, you do. You make four or five overseas trips a year. As a matter of fact, that’s where you were going when . . .” Sylvia stopped in midsentence, and looked terribly embarrassed. “Oh, dear! I promised Jan I wouldn’t mention anything that might be traumatic!”

  Maura smiled. Jan had obviously been trying to protect her. “Don’t worry, Sylvia. The accident’s not traumatic. How could it be, when I don’t remember it? That’s what’s traumatic!”

  “It must be terrible.” Sylvia looked very sympathetic. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but . . . do you remember this place at all?”

  “Not really. But that’s all right. I’m getting the pleasure of seeing it all over again, for the first time.”

  “You certainly have a good attitude. Of course you’ve always had that.” Sylvia sighed and patted Maura on the shoulder. “But I want you to know that if there’s anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.”

  Maura nodded. Jan had told her that Sylvia had been with the boutique since it had opened. And she certainly seemed to care. “There is something, Sylvia. But I’m not sure exactly how to ask. . . .”

  “What is it?”

  “Actually . . .” Maura faltered. How did you ask someone if they’d been a friend?

  “Come on, Maura. You’ve never been shy around me.”

  Maura took a deep breath. She’d just have to ask. “Sylvia?

  “Yes?”

  “Were we . . . uh . . . friends?”

  Sylvia laughed. “Of course we were. We couldn’t have worked together for so long, if we hadn’t been friends.”

  “Then you know how I used to feel about people?”

  Sylvia eyes narrowed. “Which people?”

  “Well . . .” Maura took a deep breath. “I’d like to know about Liz Webber. Did I like her?”

  “Liz Webber?” Sylvia looked very uncomfortable. “You never actually said anything about Liz, but I know you thought she was a good worker.”

  “But I didn’t like her.”

  “I think you might have liked her at first.” Sylvia swallowed hard. “Look, Maura. I really shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s not like I really know anything. It’s all just speculation.”

  “What’s speculation?”

  Sylvia took a deep breath. “Let’s just forget it, Maura. There’s no reason to bring all this up right now.”

  “Bring what up?” Maura could feel her frustration rise. “You said we were friends, Sylvia. And I really need some answers. Something about Liz Webber makes me very nervous.”

  “That’s understandable!” The moment the words popped out of Sylvia’s mouth, she looked embarrassed. “Forget I said that.”

  “Please, Sylvia . . .” Maura reached out to touch Sylvia’s arm. “When I got up this morning, I didn’t want to come to down here. It was almost as if there were something or someone I didn’t want to face. And then, when Jan told me that Liz was out of town, I completely changed my mind. Then I could hardly wait to see the boutique and meet all of you again.”

  Sylvia nodded. And then she sighed. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know about Liz. Why do I feel anxious every time I hear her name?”

  Sylvia sighed again. And then she glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to hear. “Look, Maura. I think the reason you’re so nervous about Liz is because . . .”

  Sylvia stopped, and Maura touched her arm, again. “Yes?”

  “All right. I’ll tell you. You used to like Liz, but you don’t anymore.”

  “Why?” Maura took a deep breath and held it. She knew she wasn’t going to like the answer she was forcing Sylvia to give her.

  “Because you’re almost sure that Liz Webber is having an affair with your husband!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Maura was in her room when the doorbell rang. It had taken her awhile to get over her shock, but she’d thought it all over and realized that there might be no real basis for her former suspicions. Liz was attractive. Everyone she’d asked had told her that. And Sylvia had admitted that she hadn’t seen anything improper transpire between Keith and Liz. Perhaps she was just a jealous wife, mistrustful of every attractive woman her husband met.

  The intercom buzzed, and Maura took one last look in the mirror. She was wearing a lovely, green silk hostess gown, one of her own creations. It had a high, Mandarin collar, and the front buttoned all the way up to her neck. The waist was elasticized, emphasizing the full skirt that fell to midcalf. From the front, it was a simple, sleeveless gown, but the back was quite a surprise.

  There was no back, unless you counted the high collar which held the dress in place, and Maura’s curly, auburn hair covered that completely. The view from the back was startling: just a swirling skirt that made her look as if she were topless. Of course, that illusion dissolved the moment she turned around.

  She’d designed the gown for Jan to wear to a psychology department party last year. Jan had named it her “Sybil” dress, in honor of the famous case of multiple personalities. To Maura’s surprise, it had turned out to be a popular design. It seemed everyone wanted to be a prim and proper lady from the front, and a courtesan from the back.

  The intercom buzzed again. They were waiting for her. Maura went out the door and paused, wondering how she’d react to their dinner guest. When they’d come back from the boutique, Nita had mentioned that Steve would be joining them for dinner. And that meant Nita’s conversation this morning had been with Steve.

  As she walked down the stairs, Maura reviewed the telephone conversation she’d overheard. The first part had been understandable, since Steve was a doctor. Naturally, he would ask questions about her memory. But Nita had said, It is very good for her to have the family with her again, and I will make certain that she is ready before he comes back. She was sure they’d been talking about Keith. And she wanted to ask Steve why she had to be ready before he came back.

  There was another question, one that really puzzled Maura. Nita had said, Yes, you can count on me. And you can be certain that Jan knows nothing. You should not worry. I will call you immediately if there is concern. What was that all about? Steve would know, and she had to find the opportunity to ask him.

  As she walked down the stairs, Maura thought of another question, one that hadn’t occurred to her before. Why had Nita spoken in Spanish? Steve had obviously understood her, or she would have switched to English.

  Maura hesitated slightly, as she reached the foot of the stairs. She could hear Jan’s voice coming from the living room. Steve must be waiting for her there. She reached up and fluffed her hair, feeling a little like a girl on her first date. But that was silly. Steve wasn’t her date, he was just her brother-in-law.

  “Mom!” Jan jumped to her feet as Maura entered the living room. “You look gorgeous . . . doesn’t she, Uncle Steve?”

  Maura turned to Steve, who was smiling at her, and felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She remembered her first impression of him, and how she’d compared him to her favorite actor, Paul Newman. That resemblance was even more startling tonight, perhaps because he was wearing a blue shirt that was the exact color of his eyes.

  “You do look beautiful, Maura.”

  Steve rose to his feet to give her a hug, and Maura’s heart beat wildly. She told herself she shouldn’t be feeling this way, and she pulled away at the first opportunity, but she knew her cheeks were bright with color.

  “It’s good to see you again, Steve. Would you like a drink? Or an appetizer?” Maura hurried to the antique sideboard to pick up the silver tray of appetizers that Nita had arranged. “I asked Nita to pick up some gjetost and black bread.”

  “Gjetost?” Steve looked startled.

  “Mom thinks she remembers eating it once.” Jan hurried to explain. “But she’s not sure whether she actually tasted it, or read about it in a book.”

  “Why don’t you try some and see?” St
eve took one of the triangular shaped pieces of black bread and spread it with the cheese. “Open wide, luv.”

  Maura opened her mouth obediently, but she almost choked on the delicious-tasting cheese as she realized what Steve had said. He’d called her “luv!”

  “Do you remember the gjetost, Mom?”

  Jan looked curious, but she didn’t seem startled by the term of endearment her uncle Steve had used. Perhaps it wasn’t personal, after all. Jan had mentioned that Steve had studied in London. He might have picked up the term in England and it was possible he called all women “luv.”

  “Mom?”

  Jan looked a little concerned, and Maura quickly responded to her question. “No, honey . . . I don’t really remember it, but I certainly like it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Steve seemed relieved when Maura shook her head, and Maura was puzzled. She turned to him with a frown on her face. “You look relieved that I don’t remember. Is there something you’d rather I forgot?”

  “Actually . . . yes.” Steve nodded. “You see, I remember the first time you tasted gjetost, and it wasn’t a pleasant occasion.”

  Maura walked over to perch on the edge of the couch. “I think you should tell me about it.”

  “It was the day of Paul’s funeral. Donna and I came down to San Diego, and after the service, we offered to take you out to lunch. You wouldn’t go. You said you just wanted to go home to be by yourself, but we didn’t think that was a good idea, especially in your condition.”

  “Because she was pregnant with me?” Jan smiled at her uncle.

  “That was part of it. The other part was that your mother was having false labor pains at the time. Donna and I weren’t sure they were false, so we decided to stay over, just in case.”

  Maura looked puzzled. “But I didn’t have Jan until six weeks later. Isn’t that right?”

  “That’s right.” Steve smiled as he nodded. “We just didn’t want to take any chances. Your parents had already left, and you were all alone.”

  Maura shivered a little. It would have been terrible to be all alone, after her husband’s funeral. “So you and Donna stayed at my apartment?”

  ” Yes. You insisted on giving us your bedroom, and you bedded down on the couch. And then, about three in the morning, you got a terrible craving for peanut butter.”

  Maura’s eyes widened. “I woke you up to go after peanut butter at three in the morning?”

  “No.” Steve grinned. “None of us could sleep that night. We were all in the living room, watching a dreadful old movie on television. Do you happen to remember what it was?”

  Maura shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Neither do I.” Steve laughed. “I went out for the peanut butter, and the first place I found that was open was a Scandinavian deli down the street. They didn’t carry peanut butter, but they sold me some gjetost and black bread. And they absolutely guaranteed me that it would satisfy your craving.”

  “Did it?” Jan was intrigued.

  Steve turned to his niece and grinned. “It seemed to. Your mother fell asleep before the end of the movie, and she didn’t wake up until eleven the next morning.”

  “And that’s the only time I ever had gjetost?” Maura frowned slightly. Her dream was so clear, it simply had to be a real memory.

  “As far as I know.” Steve spread some more cheese on a triangle of bread and popped it into his mouth. “It does taste like peanut butter. And I think it would go nicely with that chilled bottle of fume blanc I brought. Shall I open it now?”

  “Only if I can have a glass.” Jan grinned at her uncle, and then she turned to her mother to explain. “You let me have wine at home, Mom . . . honest.”

  Maura nodded. “That sounds reasonable to me . . . but more than half a glass and your wings are clipped for the rest of the night.”

  “I know, Mom. That’s what you always say.”

  Jan was grinning as she went off to fetch wineglasses, and Maura turned to Steve. “Is that what I always say?”

  “Absolutely.” Steve nodded. “You told me you thought it was a good idea to introduce Jan to fine wines at home. That way it wouldn’t be as much of a temptation to go out with the crowd and drink the cheap stuff that kids usually buy.”

  “Did it work?”

  “It worked perfectly, all through high school.” Steve draped a casual arm around her shoulders. “Jan’s favorite champagne is Dom Pérignon, and there aren’t many high school boys who can afford that.”

  Maura laughed. “Lord! I hope I didn’t price her right out of the date market!”

  “Not a chance. Jan’s always been very popular, but she’s also very picky. She’s never fallen head over heels in love. The only date you’ve really objected to was the boy with the triple-pierced ear and the gold nose ring.”

  “What?!” Maura turned to gaze at Steve in alarm, but then she realized that his eyes were twinkling. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  Steve pulled her a little closer and patted her on the head. “Of course I am, luv. You can be proud of Jan. She’s a very level-headed young lady.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Steve.” Jan came into the room just in time to hear his comment. “Nita says it’ll be another fifteen minutes, so we have plenty of time for the wine. And she promised to steam off the label for your wine book, Mom.”

  “My wine book?”

  “Right.” As Jan passed the wine bottle and corkscrew to her uncle, she looked a little upset. “I’m sorry, Mom. I forgot that you wouldn’t remember. You keep scrapbooks with all your favorite wine labels.”

  “But . . . why?”

  “So you can remember your favorites.” Steve took the corkscrew and deftly opened the wine.

  “That’s right.” Jan smiled at her mother. “You write a brief description under the label, and list the foods you think would complement each wine. It’s sort of a hobby . . . right, Uncle Steve?”

  Steve nodded as he deftly opened the wine and passed the bottle to Jan. “The last time I asked, you were up to ten volumes.”

  “I drink that much wine?” Maura looked horrified as Jan handed her a glass. It sounded as if she might have a drinking problem. “Tell me the truth, Jan. Am I . . . uh . . . an alcoholic?”

  “No way!” Jan started to laugh, but she sobered quickly when she realized that her mother was really worried. “You don’t actually drink all that wine, Mom. You taste it. Or you order it at a restaurant and ask to bring home the empty bottle. I’ve been with you at parties, and I’ve never ever seen you torqued.”

  “Torqued?”

  Steve laughed. “It’s what we used to call ‘bombed’ in our day. And don’t worry, Maura. You don’t have a drinking problem. As a matter of fact, you don’t have any other sort of problem that I know of. So stop holding that wineglass as if it’s an angry dog that’s about to snap at you, and take a sip. I want you to tell me what you think of my selection.”

  Maura laughed, and raised the glass to her lips. She took a small sip, but instead of swallowing, she swished it in her mouth. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew the wine was an excellent vintage.

  “Well?”

  Steve was gazing at her approvingly, and Maura nodded as she swallowed. And then she said the first thing that came to her mind. “Very nice. It’s on the light side with a hint of fruit, but it has enough body to carry.”

  “When would you serve it?”

  Steve leaned forward, and Maura had the uncomfortable feeling he might know she was feeling slightly dizzy, just being this close to him. “I’d serve it with something light.”

  “Fish?”

  Maura shivered. She wanted to move back, away from Steve, but she didn’t want to be obvious about it. Actually, that wasn’t true. She’d much rather move forward, into his arms, but that would be totally inappropriate. What was wrong with her? She found herself unreasonably attracted to Steve, and she was married to Keith!

  “Not fish.” Maura took a deep breath a
nd answered his question. “It’s not really an entrée wine. It would do best at brunch, and I’d serve it with omelettes, vegetarian with no strongly flavored cheeses, but what I’d really suggest is . . . blintzes!”

  “Perfect.” Steve reached out to touch her forehead with his lips. “I’ve taught you well, luv.”

  He moved then, turning to talk to Jan, and Maura attempted to catch her breath. Blintzes? She didn’t even know what blintzes were! Steve had obviously been the one to teach her about wine, but under what circumstances? And why did she have trouble breathing every time he was near? But before Maura could ponder any other questions, Nita appeared in the doorway.

  “Dinner is served.” Nita looked proud. “I hope you like it, Miss Maura. Mr. Steve suggested Mexican food.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” Maura smiled, and got to her feet. As far as she knew, the closest she’d ever been to Mexican food were Doritos and Fritos, and the limp, tasteless burritos they’d served at the college cafeteria.

  * * *

  “Incredible!” Maura sighed as Nita passed her the platter of tamales. “Which ones are sweet, Nita? You told me before but I forgot.”

  “These, Miss Maura.” Nita pointed to the far end of the platter where there were smaller tamales, wrapped in corn husks.

  Jan grinned as Maura picked up a tamale and put it on her plate. “Don’t forget to unwrap it this time.”

  “I won’t.” Maura laughed. When she’d attempted to eat her first tamale, she’d tried to cut though the corn husk. “And don’t be so mean to your mother. She’s not the type to make the same mistake twice.”

  Jan grinned back good-naturedly. “Great! At least I won’t have to worry about you marrying again!”

  “What?!” Maura was so startled, she almost dropped her fork. Was Jan referring to Keith?

  “Sorry, Mom.” Jan blushed beet red. “I didn’t mean it, honest. We always joke about things like that.”

  Before Maura could ask any questions, Steve jumped in. “No harm done. But there will be if I keep eating. Did you make any Mexican coffee, Nita?”