"I'd like to think he did."
Sam, the romantic.
"I'd like to think so, too. But Richard Hovey could have had half the female population of Macon. He was an edgy kind of guy. I'd think he'd want someone more exciting, someone who could offer him a challenge. And, Sam, Suzanne exhibited stalker behavior at least one time in the past with a boy in high school. Even Marjorie implied something had gone on with Vic. I just don't see it. I don't think Hovey would have given her a first look, let alone a second, not with Ruth herself waiting in the wings."
"Okay, but then why did she die?"
Jennifer sighed. Why did he have to be so darned logical? "I have no idea. Talk to you tomorrow?"
"Of course."
She hung up the phone. Maybe Suzanne's behavior in high school had only been an overzealous first love. It happens.
And maybe none of this made any sense.
She picked up the phone again and punched in the number to the Starvin' Marvin. A quiet little voice answered.
"Suzie?"
"Jennifer?"
"Yeah. Listen. You know you told me your aunt had a big box of photos of her past boyfriends. Is there any way you could get hold of it, and we could look through them together?"
"Sure. All I have to do is go down to her house. I know exactly where it is."
"Great. Are you free in the morning? Say about ten?"
"That would be good. You want to meet me there? At her house?"
"I'll be there." Jennifer dropped the receiver back into the cradle. Maybe in that stack of photos was a man who didn't like his picture taken. Or one who had had it with too much uninvited attention.
Belle would be needing the bedroom and she'd be needing her computer. It was past ten o'clock, but she'd been putting off something she had to do.
"You can have the room back now," Jennifer announced from the doorway.
Belle didn't move from the sofa. She just continued to munch her popcorn.
"Look. It's been a long day, and I need to get to sleep. Do you mind? There's another TV in the bedroom."
Belle rolled her eyes and used the remote to flip off the TV. She set the bucket of popcorn down on the end table and brushed the salt off her hands. "Okay, sure." Then popped one last kernel into her mouth.
Jennifer pulled the sheets and blanket off the chair and spread them over the couch, but as soon as Belle was out of the room, Muffy trailing after her, she went to her computer, turned it on, and slipped the disk Sam had given her out of her pocket and into the drive.
Thank God, he'd transcribed those tapes. But how was she ever going to get through it all? There were pages and pages. Only one way: sit down and read the whole thing.
She must have dozed off because she didn't hear Belle until she was standing right over her shoulder.
"What's that? Sam's files?"
Jennifer nodded, rubbing her eyes. No use denying it, the woman could read what was on the screen.
"Finding anything interesting?"
Jennifer yawned and stretched. "Not particularly. What are you doing up?"
"I got hungry. Want to split a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
"Sure. You making?"
"It's one of my specialties. The secret is extra jelly. You do have grape."
"Can't make peanut butter and jelly without it," Jennifer agreed. "I'll pour us some milk." She followed Belle into the kitchen.
"You've only got smooth. Chunky's the best. So what do you think?" Belle asked, pulling the peanut butter out of the cupboard.
"Go ahead and make two sandwiches. One's not going to be enough."
"No. I mean about Suzanne."
"I think she wasn't the woman Hovey bought a three-carat diamond ring for."
Belle let the knife drop back into the jar and leaned against the counter. "Geez. That must have cost him a fortune. So what's your theory?"
"I think there was another woman."
Belle nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too. Ruth, maybe?"
"Maybe. Or Kelli Byers."
Belle snorted. "That screwball?"
"Hey, she was leaving roses on the man's grave."
"Really? What'd you do? Catch her in the act?"
"Something like that."
"Jennifer, you are something else." Belle shook her head. "What'd you find in Sam's interviews with Hovey? Any mention of another woman?"
"Yeah. Indirectly. I'm not surprised Sam didn't catch it. He probably never would. When Hovey talked about traveling or retirement, he used the word we consistently, and it wasn't the royal we. He didn't use it anywhere else. Too much of an egomaniac, I'm sure."
"He still could have meant Suzanne, if that's all he said."
Jennifer yawned and shook her head. "He was referring to a trip to Puerto Rico that happened about eighteen months ago and another to the Virgin Islands sometime in September. He didn't meet Suzanne until after that."
Jennifer took the sandwich Belle handed her. "I can barely keep my eyes open."
"I'm not surprised. It's after one."
"Cripes. Not again."
Jennifer took a bite of sandwich. "Hey, this is good."
"Yeah. It's easy to forget how really good they are." Belle paused. "Jennifer, I'm sorry."
Jennifer stared at her. So what was the catch? "About what?"
"Causing trouble between you and Sam. I know I can be thoughtless, and sometimes people who don't know me might think I'm callous or insensitive."
And people who did know her.
"I really would like to help you and Sam with the story. No strings attached. No stealing bylines, I promise. It'll help keep my mind occupied, keep me from thinking about DeSoto." For a moment Belle looked genuinely afraid, vulnerable. "You and Sam have something special."
"You ever been in love?" Jennifer asked.
"You mean the real thing?"
"Not the imitation variety."
Belle smiled. "Hasn't everyone?"
"Who was he?"
"A photo journalist. I met him when I was working in Philly. He went on assignment in Central America and he never came back."
"I'm sorry."
Belle smiled again, a normal smile this time, nothing little-girl or pretentious about it. "Tell you what, you've been so nice to let me stay with you, what if I take you out to lunch tomorrow? For something better than peanut butter and jelly."
"Sounds good," Jennifer agreed.
"Terrific."
Chapter 27
Jennifer couldn't help but steal a look over her shoulder as she knocked on Suzanne's door. She could almost feel Kelli Byers watching from her window across the street. The woman needed to get a real job, or at least a life.
Suzanne's little house looked deserted. No lights, at least that she could see, were on inside. No car in the drive except her own. Where was Suzie? She turned to look up the road toward Marjorie's when the door came open behind her, making her jump.
"How'd you get here?" she asked Suzie.
"I jogged down from the house. It's not that far. Come on in. I've got the box."
Spread out on the braided area rug in front of the sofa was a boot-sized shoe box with the lid off. Suzie scooted down on the floor and Jennifer joined her. The box was brimming with photos, all of men.
"Do you know who any of these people are?" Jennifer asked, turning over the ones on top. None of them were labeled.
"I don't remember their names. When I was little, Aunt Suzanne used to get them down and go through them with me, but I've forgotten, except for the one of our minister. That one's supposed to be a secret. Nothing really happened between them, but he was crazy about her. She didn't want his wife to find out and she certainly didn't want the congregation to know.
"I used to come up here and spend the night with Aunt Suzanne and she'd tell me the story behind each one. She'd meet them dancing or at the bars—Mama wasn't supposed to know Aunt Suzanne went out drinking—or the bowling alley. All kinds of places. Even the grocery sto
re."
Jennifer's face must have shown the skepticism she felt because Suzie said, "Oh, I know what you're thinking. You wonder how a woman like Aunt Suzanne could attract so many men. She and I look an awful lot alike and I've only had one boyfriend my whole life. But I figure it's the difference between the two of us. You see, she had this confidence about her. She didn't let anything stand in the way of something she wanted. Not anything. That's attractive, don't you think? That determination."
Could be. And then there was Belle.
"Why didn't she marry one of these guys?" Jennifer asked.
"It just never worked out, I guess. And she was waiting for that special one to come along. Waiting for her Richard."
"I don't suppose you'd know it if she parted on bad terms with any of them?"
"Aunt Suzanne? I can't imagine that."
Asking a niece to speak ill of her favorite aunt—okay, only aunt—probably wasn't going to get a realistic answer.
Jennifer noticed one photo lying by itself on the sofa cushion. She picked it up. It looked to be several years old. It was of a man leaning back against the grill of a pickup, wearing jeans, a western shirt, a belt with a huge buckle, and cowboy boots. He was grinning for the camera.
"Why'd you pull this one out?"
"Oh, that's my dad. Doesn't he look spiffy?"
"Vic Turner?"
"Yeah. I don't know how it got in here. By accident, I guess."
Right. By accident.
Jennifer sifted down through the box. A few of the photos were studio shots. How she got those, one could only guess. But most of them were snapshots, several of each man. "Did your aunt have a camera?" Jennifer asked.
"Of course."
"Do you know where it is?"
Suzie hopped up and dug in the top of the coat closet. She pulled out a camera bag, toted it back to the rug, and set it down for Jennifer to examine. It was a Nikon 35mm. And tucked in one of the side pockets of the bag was a telephoto lens.
"Did you ever see any of these men come to your aunt's house, ever meet any of them?"
"Aunt Suzanne said my dad wouldn't approve. He was pretty protective of her, a single woman living alone like she did. He had to kind of watch out after her. She told me she had to meet them somewhere, so he wouldn't get upset, and then they'd go off on their dates. She made me promise not to mention anything about them to Mom or Dad. I don't think she liked Kelli getting all into her business either."
That was probably true.
Suzie grabbed up a handful of photos and held them against her chest. "Can you imagine having all these men in love with you?"
Jennifer shook her head. She couldn't imagine all of them being in love with Suzanne Gray either. And Suzie was holding proof of that right in her hand. Not a single one of those photos included Suzanne Gray.
Chapter 28
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show," Belle called out from the couch as Jennifer burst through the door of her apartment and dumped her purse on a dining chair. "Where were you all morning?"
Muffy scrambled off the sofa and slunk behind Belle's feet.
"I saw that," Jennifer warned.
"Oops. Sorry we forgot," Belle said.
"Right. I'm sure you did."
"You ready to go?"
"Oh, lunch. That's right." Jennifer checked her watch. "What'd you have in mind?"
"There's a new seafood—"
"I don't do seafood, nothing with a face."
"Do shrimp have faces?"
"With eyes, mouths, and feelers and lots of yucky legs."
"Oysters don't. Do they?"
"No and neither do anemones. I don't eat them either."
"Okay. Then let's skip the ocean life. How about Applebee's on Tom Hill?"
"Sure, fine, whatever." She grabbed the phone off the wall between the kitchen and the dining area and punched in Sam's number. All she got was his voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message. "Double darn." She didn't want to page him in case he was in court.
"Hey, relax," Belle told her. "You've been running around day and night with this Gray-Hovey thing. You need some quiet time. I'll call and make a reservation. How long do you need before you'll be ready to go?"
"Give me ten minutes. Fifteen at the most. But I really don't think they accept reservations."
Jennifer took off for the bedroom and shut the door. She needed time alone to regroup. She sat down on the edge of the bed that Belle hadn't bothered to make, closed her eyes, and took her head in her hands.
Suzanne was stalking Richard Hovey. She was as certain of it as she'd ever been of anything. Suzanne's impending birthday and his notoriety must have pushed her over the edge, exploding her latest infatuation into a 3-D fantasy complete with storybook wedding.
Of course Hovey's family didn't know about the wedding. No one did except for the people Suzanne told—her family and her friends—because it only existed in Suzanne's mind.
Hovey knew, though, at least that she was interested in him. He'd had to deal with it. Quietly. The phone calls Suzanne had made to his office. He'd tried to put her off, but it hadn't worked.
So if he never was in love with Suzanne, who, blast it, was Hovey waiting for the night he slipped and died? Did it matter?
It wasn't Ruth, or she wouldn't have been so quick to buy Jennifer off. Who did that leave? Kelli Byers? Would Hovey have given her a toss in the sheets? Probably. She was attractive and what had Ruth called her husband? A bottom feeder? But would he have sprung for a bottle of Silver Oak, spread rose petals and lighted candles for her? Highly unlikely. Most men wouldn't do that for the loves of their lives. Most men....
Most men wouldn't do it at all.
Rose petals, candles, a warm bath with scented oils—that was a woman's fantasy, not a man's. They'd been looking at this all wrong.
Of course. It had been staring them all right in the face all the time.
What if a woman had set up that seduction scene the night Hovey had died? It had to be someone who had a key to Hovey's house. Someone who knew his favorite kind of wine. It had to be....
Suzanne Gray. Because if she had, it might just explain why she had been murdered.
But something went terribly wrong. Hovey had died. Why? Because he climbed the stairs and found rose petals and a strange woman in his house? What did he do? Tell her to get out? Laugh at her? Explain that he was in love with someone else? Had she pushed him? Or had he slipped? Did she mean to kill him?
Either way, he went down those stairs and died at the bottom.
Her mind rushed on. But how did Suzanne get a key to let herself in? She'd been there all right. Sam said her fingerprints were all over Hovey's house.
Even as Jennifer posed the question, the answer slipped right into her mind. The balloon delivery. The one Ruth had hired her to make. Marjorie said Ruth had given Suzanne a key to fill the house with balloons, set up his favorite wine, and set the scene. She could have had the key copied, and that explained how she knew Hovey's favorite wine.
Jennifer felt sweat bead across her forehead, but not from any heat. The relentless cold spell that had gripped Macon had finally broken that morning, but it was still winter outside.
Suzanne had been murdered. Any doubt Jennifer had ever had otherwise was completely gone. Because with Hovey dead, what was there to keep her from moving on to the next great love of her life? Wasn't that what she'd always done before? All she had to do was insert a different name in all her wedding plans. She'd already demonstrated she didn't need the man's consent.
But even if this time was somehow different and Suzanne was in utter despair over Hovey's death, even if she had decided to kill herself over this man who had never been a part of her life except for a balloon delivery, she would have done it up right. She was already in high fantasy mode. The wedding dress she'd ordered was ready. She could have picked it up, had it fitted early, or not bothered. And the roses Jennifer had dug out of Marjorie's trash can came comp
lete with thorns. Why not order the bridal bouquet she'd selected? Suzanne had charge cards, if money was an issue. She obviously didn't plan to be around later to worry about any of the bills.
So murder it was. Jennifer was as certain about this as she'd been about anything in her life.
"You all right in there?" Belle called.
"Peachy keen." Why didn't that woman just go away? One "I'm sorry" and a single heart-to-heart over peanut butter and jelly did not a friend make. She made a mental note to call around to the motels and hotels again when they got back. Surely out of all those Jehovah's Witnesses, one had been called away on emergency. There had to be someplace else Belle could stay.
"I'm getting hungry out here," Belle called again.
"All right, all right. I'm going to try Sam one more time before we go."
But, again, Sam failed to answer.
She gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror, not that she particularly cared how she looked. She wasn't out to impress Belle. How long could lunch take anyway? And they both had to eat. She took a deep breath and went into the living room.
She found Belle next to the refrigerator talking baby talk to Muffy and feeding her a whole handful of treats.
"Hey, go easy," Jennifer told her. "A fat dog is not a healthy dog. You sure it's all right for you to go out? DeSoto may still be around."
"I'm getting claustrophobic. You can't expect me to stay in all day, every day. Besides, he has no idea where I am."
Belle grabbed her purse and Muffy scampered, whimpering after her. After her. First she tries to take her man and now she was working on her dog.
Jennifer grabbed Muffy around the collar and kissed at her. "You be good while we're gone." Then she shoved the dog back inside and shut the door.
Chapter 29
Jennifer and Belle took the stairs and were on the front steps in less than two minutes.
"I'll drive," Belle offered. "I'm at the far end of the lot, near the pines." Jennifer could see the car. Belle had backed into the very last space.
Dying to Get Her Man Page 15
