"Where'd you go this morning?" Belle asked. "I've hardly seen you since I moved in."
"I've had things I had to do."
"For Sam? Did you finally get him on the phone?"
Jennifer shook her head.
"You seem awfully anxious to talk to him."
Jennifer stopped dead on the sidewalk. "If you're going to spend lunch grilling me about Sam—"
"No. I'm sorry. I've been cooped up and Jerry Springer doesn't provide a lot of topics for conversation. Tell me, when did you become a vegetarian?"
Jennifer threw her a sidelong look, and they started on down the walk. "It was one of those college revelations. We were studying animal communication in psychology and I suddenly realized they have sophisticated societal structures. I just couldn't do it anymore. Even ants communicate back and forth, fight wars, keep aphids for 'milk', raise crops. Disturb their nests, and they hightail it out of there with their babies. They live in such a dangerous world. It's fascinating."
"Sounds like it."
Jennifer headed around to the passenger side of the Miata. The hardtop was on for the winter. She tugged on the door handle, but it was locked. The movement made her shoulder bag slide down to her wrist and bump against the door, spilling her sunglasses and keys out onto the pavement.
"Cripes. Belle, can you get this car open? That button you pushed didn't do a thing." She ducked to pick up her things.
It sounded like a backfire behind her followed by glass shattering in front of her. She rose up to see the entire front passenger window on the maroon minivan in the next space missing. And Belle gone. In one surreal moment, she turned in the direction of the noise and realized it had come from the wooded area behind her, not from the road. She dove to the pavement just as another boom sounded and more glass splintered.
"Belle! Belle! Where are you?"
"I'm here." Belle's voice sounded muffled. It was coming from the other side of the car. "Are you all right?"
"I think so. Are you?"
Jennifer was flat against the pavement but still exposed and shaking hard. Nothing stood between her and that stand of trees. She forced herself forward, half rolling, half crawling around to the front bumper. "Stay down. I think it's a rifle."
"How do you know that?"
"From the way that window broke. And the distance. I don't think anyone would try using a pistol for a shot like that. No telling how many shots he has left."
Peeking under the car, she could see Belle's legs where she was crouching between the Miata and the minivan. She drew her legs up under her and, keeping her head low, scooted to Belle, glass crunching under her shoes. At least they were shielded. Their only hope was for the assailant not to come out of the woods, not to risk exposing himself to the road and passersby. If he did, they'd both be dead before they could stand up.
Glass was sprinkled all over Belle's beautiful curly hair and the shoulders of her coat. She appeared to be in shock, her eyes huge, angry.
Jennifer grabbed Belle's hand and pulled her forward. "Come on. We need to get out of here before he comes checking to see it he got you."
Using the cars as cover, they managed to make it back to the entrance of the building. They made a dash to the front steps, scurried inside, and then flew up the stairs. At her door, Jennifer fumbled with her keys, looking over her shoulder, half expecting to see Simon DeSoto swagger out of the stairwell at any moment with a gun pointed straight at their heads.
Somehow she got the right key into the lock and turned it. Muffy woofed and danced around them as Jennifer pulled Belle inside, pushed the door shut, and threw the massive lock on her door. She'd had one break-in and had vowed never to have another. Nothing short of a stick of dynamite would be getting past that lock.
Her legs gave way and she slid to the floor. Muffy was all over her licking her face and whining. That's when she looked down and saw the huge tear in her pants leg and blood all over it. "Dammit! These are my favorite pants."
Belle eased to the floor next to her. Her hands were shaking and one was streaked red. She was mumbling something that Jennifer couldn't make out except for a four-letter word here and there.
She put an arm around Belle and pulled her into a hug. "We've got to call the police," she choked. "Call the police and tell them Simon DeSoto just tried to kill you."
Chapter 30
"No, I can't give you a description of him or his clothes. I didn't see his face. I didn't see him. I don't even know for sure it was a man," Jennifer told the young female police officer sitting across the dining table from her. "I didn't see anything except glass flying."
She took a sip of hot tea. It helped to have something warm and comforting to hold onto, and the more she drank of it, the more she suspected there was more than tea in that pot. Maybe a hint of bourbon?
Mrs. Ramon had prepared it and brought it over for her and Belle. She, too, had heard the shots, but she wasn't sure what she should do. The police gave her an err-on-the-side-of-caution lecture and let her go home. But before she went, she'd leaned down to Jennifer and whispered, nodding in Belle's direction, "So, better here with you than with your man."
Somehow who was with whom paled in the assurance that they were both safe.
"Why are you so sure it was a rifle?" the young officer asked, looking up from her notes. Jennifer noticed how pretty she was. Blonde with lots of bangs and a French braid. She wondered if she'd ever been shot at.
"It just sounded like it. I didn't see any pellet marks, so it wasn't a shotgun. And it was accurate. He had to be, what, sixty feet or more from us?"
"He wasn't accurate enough to hit you."
"We were moving. If my purse hadn't slipped off my shoulder and if Belle hadn't...Is Belle all right?"
"Ms. Renard is fine. Just a little shook up. She's in the bedroom, speaking with another officer."
They didn't want them to contaminate each other's accounts.
"You should look through the woods," Jennifer suggested. "If he didn't pick them up, there may be shell casings out there."
"Someone's taking care of that."
The door was ajar, what with all the officers coming in and out. Poor Muffy had been relegated to the bathroom, and she wasn't at all pleased about it. Jennifer could hear her scratching at the door and then jumping in and out of the bath tub, ringing it like a low-pitched bell. Poor thing. That trick usually got her let out.
It took her a moment before she realized it was Sam's voice she heard in the outside hallway, speaking her name. And then another voice said something about "no press."
She was on her none-too-steady feet, calling for him.
He pushed past the officer at the door, and when she saw him, she lost it, dissolving into tears.
"Hey, hey," he said, taking her into his arms. "It's all right."
"There were bullets and flying glass and Belle..." She snuffled against his shoulder. "I didn't know what to do."
He shushed her. "It's okay. You did good. They told me you got yourself and Belle out of there. That's all you needed to do." He pulled back and looked her over. He frowned at the bandage running from her knee to her ankle. "You're hurt."
"The paramedics checked her out," the officer assured him. "She's suffered from abrasions from contact with the asphalt, but she should be just fine. Ms. Marsh refused transport to the hospital."
"If anything happened to you—"
"Not me, Sam. It had to have been DeSoto. He really is trying to kill Belle."
She could see him pale. "How is she?"
"All right, I think. They picked a lot of glass out of her hair, but except for a few scratches and one fairly deep cut on her hand, I think she's okay. She was lucky she had on a fairly heavy coat."
"Did you tell them about DeSoto?"
Jennifer shook her head. "I'm letting Belle do that. I'd just be repeating what she told us and I didn't want to get any of it wrong. Besides, neither one of us actually saw anything."
He hugged her
tight. It made her bite her tongue. She had one heck of a bruise on her right shoulder where she hit the ground. Sam loosened his grip and eased her back onto the dining chair.
"Are you finished?" he asked the officer.
"If I wasn't, I would have thrown you out." She closed her notebook. "You might want to see about getting her something to eat."
"My stomach's been growling," Jennifer admitted. "Hideous, horrible, loud rumbling sounds. Unbelievably embarrassing." It was almost three o'clock and all she'd had to eat all day was one slice of toast.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"They asked me to wait. How did you find out?"
"Mrs. Ramon. She paged me. I was in court."
Jennifer smiled and took another sip of tea. A little more of Mrs. Ramon's home brew and she wouldn't care if she ate or not, especially now that Sam was here.
She looked up over the cup rim to see a tall officer coming out of the bedroom. He addressed the woman who'd been interviewing Jennifer. "I want you to take Ms. Renard to the emergency room while I write up this report."
"The emergency room?" Jennifer started to rise in her seat.
"No, it's okay," Belle said, coming up behind him. "The bleeding stopped, but the wound's still gaping." She had a bandage wrapped around her left hand.
Jennifer nodded. "You don't want it to scar."
When she saw Sam, Belle put her hand to her mouth as though holding back tears. He went to her and hugged her, too. "Have them bring you back here," he told her.
She nodded, clinging to him.
"I'm going to walk her out," Sam said.
The officer got up and thanked Jennifer, and the three of them left.
She let out a sigh of relief. Quiet had never felt quite so good. Her head was pounding right along with her heart, which was just now beginning to slow down. She lay down on the couch and closed her eyes, promising herself five minutes to regroup. Muffy had calmed down some in the bathroom now that everyone was gone. As soon as Sam got back, she'd let her out and lock the front door. Then she'd tell him what she'd figured out about the night Hovey died. And then find them all something to eat. Then go to sleep. No. Sleep, then eat. No....
"Jennifer."
Her eyes drifted open. Sam was staring down at her, upside down. She must have her head in his lap. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows and his tie was loose. He looked really good. Except for the sour expression on his face.
Hmmmmmm. Sam. It's nice that he's here. Her eyes drifted shut again.
"Jennifer, wake up."
"Why? I'm not asleep. I just lay down to rest my eyes." She pushed herself up on her elbows. It'd gotten dark outside and Sam had forgotten to shut the blinds. Wasn't that just like a man? But it wasn't as though they were on the first floor. She shook herself awake. Muffy rose up from her spot next to the sofa and licked her hand.
"Listen. Belle, get yourself in here."
Belle came around the partition to the kitchen, a Chinese take-out carton in her hand. "I was just putting the lo mein into a bowl."
"That can wait." Sam used the remote control to turn up the sound on the television just as a voice said, "Welcome to the Six O'clock News. The body of Simon DeSoto has been found shot to death in an alley not far from the offices of Hovey, Trainer, and Palmer. More than a year ago Mr. DeSoto had been convicted of the murder of his wife, Nadine DeSoto, but that conviction was recently overturned. DeSoto is reported to have left the law offices of his attorney, Alvin Trainer, partner of the deceased Richard Hovey, this afternoon at approximately four o'clock P.M., after a meeting with Mr. Trainer that lasted an estimated hour and a half. Again, alleged wife-murderer Simon DeSoto has been found shot to death. We'll bring you further details as they become available to us."
Jennifer sat all the way up, threw her legs to the floor, and winced. She was as awake as she'd ever been in her life.
"Sam. The restraining order. What if the police think you're the one—"
"They won't. I can account for my time."
Jennifer turned to stare at Belle. "You're home. And safe. Did you hear that?"
Belle nodded, dropping down on the sofa arm next to Sam.
"But your hand... Are you all right?" Jennifer asked. For a moment she felt disoriented, as though she'd dreamed being out in the parking lot, bullets whizzing past.
Belle touched the gauze that covered her hand and her wrist. "Fine. They put in a couple of stitches and sent me home."
"Hey, hey. Calm down," Sam soothed, putting an arm around Jennifer. "Belle got back maybe thirty minutes ago. She took a cab from the hospital."
"Thank God. Is he really dead, Sam?"
"So it seems."
"Then it's over."
But her relief lasted only a few seconds. She took in Sam's dark expression. And Belle's as she studied Sam's face.
And then it hit her, too.
"Why is DeSoto dead? Sam, who killed him?"
Chapter 31
Sam fed them the Chinese take-out, put Jennifer to bed on the couch, and went home, after she insisted that he do just that. She'd talk to him in the morning, tell him what she knew then, when her head was clearer.
But she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, pounding the pillows, trying to find some outlet for her exhaustion.
The sound of Belle's snoring drifted into the living room. Not a loud, in-your-face-keep-you-awake snore, more like a dainty I'm-not-perfect little snore.
But it wasn't Belle that was keeping her awake, or even the light from the kitchen. It was the whys shouting at her from the dark. Why had Suzanne been murdered? If her theory was right, that Suzanne had killed Hovey by accident or design, who had found out about it and how? And why had DeSoto been killed? Did the one have anything to do with the other?
They both knew Richard Hovey. Both of their futures depended on him, DeSoto's in the real world, Suzanne's in some fantasy creation. But Hovey was dead before either of them. Had his death somehow triggered their own?
And what kind of chutzpah did it take for DeSoto to shoot at them in broad daylight and then stroll right into his attorney's office? If, indeed, it was DeSoto who had shot at them. Of course that appointment put him in Macon just before the shooting. But who else would want Belle dead?
Before DeSoto died, she'd thought things were beginning to add up, but now the sum only created more questions. It was like a trigonometric equation. She had solved for x, only to find a second variable, DeSoto and his death, as part of the answer, because, if she'd learned anything, coincidence wasn't common.
She threw back the covers, sat up, and tried to go back over what she knew and didn't know.
Why was Suzanne murdered? If someone knew Suzanne killed Hovey, however it happened, why wasn't she turned over to the police and brought up on charges?
The photos in that box at Suzanne's house. And the photo of Richard in her bedroom. Were there other photos? Had Suzanne caught Richard on film with someone else? Had she tried to blackmail someone?
No. That didn't make sense either. He was an attorney. He openly associated with the scum of the earth. And what woman would find it objectionable to be linked to Richard Hovey? Unless she was married. And even then, she'd have to be married to some really important, powerful person to worry about divorce in this day and age, especially if Richard Hovey were around to represent her and help her put her life back together.
"Hey." The voice was soft and drowsy from behind her, but she still jumped.
"Belle. You scared me."
Belle put a hand on her shoulder and yawned loudly. "What you doin' up?"
"I couldn't sleep. I can't get DeSoto and Suzanne and Hovey out of my mind."
"Sounds pretty crowded in there."
"It is."
"Want to talk about it?" Belle came around, dropped one of the pillows on the floor, and sat down next to Jennifer. She rubbed her face and gave another huge yawn. "By the way, if I haven't already thanked you, I do appreciate what you did for me today. I
f you hadn't been there, I don't know if I'd have had the presence of mind to get myself out of there. I'm not accustomed to being used for target practice."
"That's okay. I was kind of panicked myself."
"You hungry?"
"Belle, it's..." She lifted her wrist to catch enough light from the kitchen to read the dial. "It's two-thirty in the morning. Do you always snack in the middle of the night?"
"Yeah. Don't you? Besides, you know Chinese doesn't stick with you. I'll fix us some PB and J."
"And I'll get us some milk. You'll need some help with that sore hand of yours."
"No, I'm fine. You stay put. Your kitchen's so small, one person can barely turn around in it, let alone two. I'll call you when the food's ready."
Belle did have a nicer side. She had to for Sam to ever have spent time with her. And, at last, Jennifer was seeing a little of it.
"Have you slept at all?" Belle called from the kitchen.
"Not really. I just can't let all this go." She went around the partition and watched Belle dip peanut butter and spread it onto the bread. "Chunky."
"I picked some up this past morning while you were out. Oh, I know. I wasn't supposed to leave the apartment, but I just dashed up the road, and chunky's so much better than smooth."
Jennifer watched as Belle glopped on the jelly. "Do you know how decadent that is?"
"Sure. And you don't even want to know how many calories are in it." Belle added the top bread, cut the sandwich diagonally and handed the plate to Jennifer. "Go ahead. Don't wait for me." She pulled two more slices out of the bread bag.
What was still bothering her was how someone could get that kind of dose of sleeping pills into someone like Suzanne without her knowing it.
Jennifer took a bite of sandwich and then put it down. She needed milk. "Do you mind?" she asked Belle. "I need to get past you to the refrigerator."
Jennifer backed up and Belle stepped out, knife in hand, and exchanged places while Jennifer grabbed the milk jug out of the fridge and poured them both a glass.
Dying to Get Her Man Page 16
