“Lieutenant, you’re a very perplexing man. You really infuriate me.”
“Yeah, my wife used to say stuff like that.”
“And you apologized?”
“Sometimes. Actually, she divorced me five years ago.”
Kim lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.” Liar!
“Me too. Mostly I’m sorry for the girls. She left them as well.”
Kim couldn’t imagine a mother doing that. “It’s hard to understand,” was all she could manage to say in her croaky voice.
He shrugged. “She said she had to find herself. It turned out she had this boyfriend, a younger guy who didn’t have much use for children.”
Kim placed her hand on his in a gesture of comfort.
“Not much of a detective, am I? Didn’t even know my own wife was screwing around. She said I was too involved with my work. I guess she was right. These days, I try to spend as much time as possible with my girls.”
“Lieutenant, I have the feeling you’re a very good father.”
His eyes met hers squarely. “Call me Mike. And I’d like to spend some time with you that wasn’t professional.”
“You would?”
As if to answer her question, he leaned over and kissed her. He covered her mouth with his. She felt the blood in her veins begin to heat. She found herself kissing him back with all the passion that was in her. He deepened the contact between them. It was a mind-blowing kiss and it excited her. Maybe she’d been kissed before, but it never felt anything like this! His hands roamed over her body. She pulled back, gasping for breath. If she didn’t put some distance between them, she would completely lose control. It was confusing and disturbing.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t.”
“I did. I understand you better than you think. You and I, we share something unique, special.”
Her mind was still clouded by emotion when he left her.
* * * *
Don Bernard arrived an hour later, surprising her.
“I thought you had a class to teach,” she said.
“I decided to cancel it.” His eyes were fixed on hers as if to say that he considered her more important.
She looked away in embarrassment. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Ridiculous! Don’t you think you carry this self-reliance thing a bit far? We’re friends, remember?”
“Friends,” she agreed.
He gave her one of his charming smiles, which lit up his face and made him seem boyish. “Glad to hear it. I brought soup for your lunch.”
Kim wondered how she could have suspected him of killing Lorette. She felt guilty and ashamed. Don Bernard was a good, decent man. Just because he might have been involved with Lorette at one time didn’t mean he would ever harm her.
“Do you think Lionel Forbes killed Lorette?” Don asked as he worked in her tiny kitchen.
“I don’t know. He didn’t admit it to me. I can’t really believe that he’s dead.”
“Yes, he was quite a formidable, charismatic individual. He rather tended to dominate those around him. It hardly seems possible that such individuals are mortal like the rest of us.”
“I think someone in his circle killed him as well as Lorette and Sandy. I just can’t understand why.”
“Loss of career? Devil worship is not politically correct, the last I heard.”
She gave him a quick look. “How did you know about that?”
He frowned. “The detective mentioned it. Actually, he asked me some questions. He seemed to think I might be involved in some way. I set him straight. Forbes and I might have been colleagues, but we were never friends, nor did we share any common interests outside of the obvious literary ones. I’m too squeamish to even watch a horror movie.”
“I really ought to talk to Nick Margrove again. He’s the only one who can help me discover the identity of the rest of that crowd.”
Don frowned at her. “Let it go. You were nearly killed. The murderer targeted you as well as dear old Lionel. Hasn’t it occurred to you yet that you’re in danger? And certainly if you continue poking your pretty nose where it most decidedly does not belong, someone will finish what he started the other night.”
His words sent a chill down her spine. “I felt connected to Lorette. We bonded. She deserved better.” Kim was finding it difficult to express her feelings. Rarely did she think or talk about how she felt. She managed to neatly tuck her emotions away in a closed, dark compartment in her heart, never to be taken out and looked at in the light of day. Now she was being forced to reexamine those feelings. If she wasn’t careful, the old pain would start again. She had to escape that at all cost. But maybe suffering was just another requirement of existence. Could any human being exist without it? Still, she had known enough anguish to last a lifetime.
“Don’t you see how ridiculous it is for you to pursue this?” Don glanced over at her disapprovingly.
“Intellectually, I do. However, the taking of a human life should not go unnoticed, unmourned or unpunished.”
“Commendably idealistic,” he said with sarcasm.
“Don’t mock me. I believe Lorette mattered. We all matter! It seems to me that life is held too cheaply these days.”
“Other people’s lives perhaps. Most of us value our own.”
“I’m no different.”
“But you’ve determined to make yourself a human sacrifice as a protest?”
He struck a nerve. Wasn’t he describing what Carl had done? But she was not like him. She had no intention of hurting others, only helping them.
“I can assure you I don’t have a martyr complex.”
“Your sleuthing will only get you into trouble. I urge you to stop.”
She stood up, but was unsteady on her feet. Don insisted that she take his arm for support. Her legs still felt rubbery so she didn’t argue with him. He helped her sit down at the table and served her the soup.
“Would you like to share?” she asked.
He indicated that he wouldn’t.
“I don’t think I have anything else to offer you.”
“Actually, you’ve got quite a bit to offer,” he said, flashing a dazzling smile. His mood seemed to have inexplicably shifted.
“I was thinking along the lines of refreshments.”
“Oh, that! Well, I had a sandwich on the way over. Can I do anything else for you?”
“No, it’s not necessary. Thanks again for the soup. I’m going to have it and then lie down for a while.”
“Then perhaps I should go. You look tired. And if I stay, I’ll have you croaking some more and that can’t be good for your throat.” Still he stood there looking at her, frozen to the spot, or so it seemed.
“You are a good friend.”
“I’d like to be a lot more.”
“You have a way about you,” she said awkwardly.
“Really? I thought that of you. I’ll let you rest as I promised. But if you should need me, just call, night or day. For you, I’m always available.”
“All I have to do is whistle?” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “Too bad I never got the knack of it.”
“I consider you my friend and confidante. To prove it, you are the only human being on this earth outside of my family, whom I would trust to know my full first name,” Don said.
“Which is?”
He hesitated. “It’s Donalbain.”
Kim raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“My dear departed mother, an amateur thespian, fancied Macbeth. I suppose it could have been worse. She might have named me Banquo—or perish the thought, Fleance.” He gave her a wry smile that made her laugh. He brushed a stray lock of hair back from his forehead. “Glad I could amuse you. You need to laugh more.”
“I won’t tell anyone your name. I’m very good at keeping secrets. I’ve had my share of practice.”
“When you’re ready, you can sha
re some of yours with me.”
Her sense of awareness told her to be very careful what she shared with him. Probably, she was just too cautious, but she trusted the warning vibration of her seventh sense.
* * * *
It was several days before she felt able to go back to work. Wendell did not seem overly concerned when she phoned to say that she was still under the weather. In fact, she thought she detected a note of relief in his voice. She valued her recuperation time. No more nurses dueling and poking at her with plastic-covered thermometers. She could sleep as much or as little as she chose.
Jim Davis phoned the second day she was at home. “How’s it going?” he asked with what appeared to be real concern.
She told him that she was getting along very well.
“Take care of yourself. Everyone at school is talking about what happened.” He paused momentarily. “There’s all kinds of speculation. What exactly did happen?”
“I’m not certain myself.” She realized that she was being intentionally evasive.
“Well, glad you’re okay,” he said good-naturedly, “but it’s a damned shame about Dr. Forbes.”
“Yes, a shame. Jim, about Dr. Forbes, you had him for a class. Did he ever talk about satanism or devil worship?”
“What?” The question seemed to throw him. “Not that I can remember. Of course, he used to say the most powerful force in the universe is evil.”
“Referring to the Puritan belief that man is born in sin?”
“So you know then.”
“Not exactly.”
“No one ever took him seriously. It was just the way the man talked. Kind of a weird old bird.”
“Some people took him seriously,” she said. “Were you ever invited to his house?”
“Me? No, I never was. Wasn’t intellectual enough for him I guess.” The voice was nervous. He was too quick with his denial. Was he lying? If so, why?
“But Dr. Forbes did like you?” That seemed a safe assumption.
“It was hard to tell who he liked and didn’t like. One time in class, this gal was absent that he always seemed to favor. He looked around checking for absentees, saw she wasn’t there and then said, ‘Lovely, that loud-mouth bitch isn’t here today.’ See what I mean? He was really hard to figure. You never knew quite where he was coming from. He kept us all off balance and it was probably deliberate. Maybe he liked me, maybe not. I wasn’t one of his chosen, though. And that was plenty much all right with me.”
“Who were his chosen? Can you remember some names?”
He didn’t answer right away. She had the distinct impression he was holding back.
“I’m not certain.”
“Was Lorette very involved?”
“He wanted her. She went to his house only that one time.”
“Did she tell you what went on at the house?”
“Well,” the Western voice twanged slowly, “Lorette was secretive about it, but I could see it had upset her. She was nervous and in a bad mood the next day.”
“She didn’t say anything?”
“Nope. Locked me out in the barn, so to speak.”
After the conversation ended, Kim rested her head against the pillow on the sofa. The whole thing became more puzzling and sinister all the time. What had happened to Lorette the night she visited Forbes’ house? What had so upset her? Drug use? That was something of a certainty. Lorette would have no part of that. Kim was sure of it. But would it upset her that badly? Not unless he’d tried forcing the drugs on her.
What of the Satan worship? Lorette was a sophisticated woman. Wouldn’t it simply strike her as absurd? But Kim had seen with her own eyes that Dr. Forbes had been a practitioner of the Black Mass. He’d shown her his power. Still, it could have been some sort of trick that he rigged. Magicians did that all the time, didn’t they? Maybe he had supernatural power and maybe he didn’t. But her awareness told her that the man truly had channeled demonic power.
Before he was killed, she would have believed that he murdered Lorette and Sandy. But he was dead now too, and all three murders appeared to have been committed by the same individual—someone who wanted to see her dead as well. Another practitioner of the black arts? Or a psychotic, perhaps? Then again, what murderer could be considered sane? Kim trembled, thinking about it. Who might know the truth?
It came back to Nick Margrove. He had to know who the murderer was, or at least have some suspicion. Maybe he was the one who had murdered Lorette, Sandy and Forbes. But then that left a question of motive, didn’t it? Why did people kill? For money, out of greed, for love, out of passion, for hate, or out of madness. Why had Lorette, Sandy and Dr. Forbes been killed? Out of fear? Her head began to throb again. She took some of the medicine the doctor had given her, closed her eyes and tried to rest.
Later, she began thinking again. Was she obsessive? Yet she couldn’t stop her troubled thoughts. Mike Gardner had warned her to stay out of the investigation. She tried to put it out of her mind. Time to get a life.
It was then that she remembered the small diary sitting on the counter in her kitchen. Unable to rest, she walked over and picked it up. There were other mysteries to solve, more personal ones and just as painful.
FIFTEEN
It was while Kim was reading Jen’s diary that Mike Gardner stopped by the apartment. She was surprised by his visit, and yet in some respects not surprised at all. He looked as formidable as ever, even wearing an off-the-rack suit, plain white shirt and unfashionable tie loosened at the neck. She didn’t invite him in, wasn’t up to being alone with him again.
“I just dropped by to see how you’re doing,” he responded to her raised brow.
“As you can tell, I’m not up to doing much of anything.”
“Maybe that’s for the best.”
“I could think of better uses for my sick days.”
He stood there looking at her thoughtfully, as if her well-being really mattered to him.
She regretted behaving ungraciously, broke down and invited him in. “So what is it?” She settled back on the couch while he took a straight-back chair.
“Same old. I need to talk to you about the university murders.”
“Is that what you’re calling them now?”
He gave her a wry grin. “That’s what the newspapers are calling them. Haven’t you been reading the papers?”
“No, I’ve been avoiding them.”
“I can’t afford that luxury. And shame on you, an information specialist who doesn’t read the newspapers.”
“Please, I feel rotten enough,” she said.
“I talked to your pal Nick Margrove. I know you spoke to the kid too.”
“He’s definitely not my pal, although I really think he’s the key to this.”
“What makes you say that?” He leaned toward her, acting as if he valued her input.
“Nick was at Forbes’ house the night that Lorette was there. He brought Sandy with him too. Sandy told me he was one of Dr. Forbes’ chosen. We have no idea who they are except for Nick, so it stands to reason that he has some answers. Whoever killed Dr. Forbes most likely is someone protecting his own reputation.”
“What did Margrove tell you?”
“Not a thing,” she conceded. “But that proves nothing. I’ve never been sufficiently intimidating. It was my great failing as a high school teacher.”
“Am I intimidating?”
She appraised him thoughtfully, her head tilted to one side. “I don’t know, since you don’t need to frighten me. But you do have a way of getting people to open up to you. My gut feeling is that you can be ruthless when it’s necessary.”
“Whatever works,” he said with a shrug.
“You’re a pragmatist, like Ben Franklin. Pragmatists always find a way to get things done.”
He took her assessment in stride. “Is it your opinion that the Margrove kid did all three of them?”
Did them? Odd how even the police preferred euphemisms. “It’s poss
ible, but I don’t know why. I believe it’s kind of complicated.”
Gardner nodded his head approvingly. “You’re not a bad detective for a civilian.”
“I’m a reference librarian. We deal with mystery-solving every single day. Someone needs information, I have to figure out where to find it. It takes searching.”
“Like hunting for evidence?”
“A lot like that, yes. People give us clues and we go do the searching.”
“Okay, I can respect that. I’ll bring Margrove in and give him a full interrogation. That meet with your approval?”
She indicated that it did.
“There’s something else I wanted you to know. Because this case isn’t limited to the township, you’re probably going to be questioned by other cops besides me. I’ll try to see to it that you’re not bothered much, but brace yourself. We’re getting publicity now, and that means heat, pressure to get the case solved.”
Absently, she had picked up the diary, clasping it tightly to her breast.
“Did I interrupt your reading?”
She shook her head. “I was trying to get something straight in my head. I’ve looked at this diary before, but I never was certain I really understood it. There are things I want to find out.”
“Whose diary? Your friend Lorette? If it is, maybe I ought to have a look.”
“No, it’s personal. If it had been Lorette’s , I would have given it to you. Honor bright.”
His eyes were on hers, viewing her with interest and concern. Strange how she felt able to talk to him about things that she and Ma were totally unable to discuss. Maybe it was because he was an outsider, a disinterested party. No, she corrected. He wasn’t those things anymore. He had somehow made their relationship personal. She would never forget that kiss.
“I just want to be sure you’re not holding out on me,” he said with a steady gaze.
“My mother had a younger sister who died in her teens. When Ma talked about Jen, she’d get this funny look in her eye. I never understood. When I got older, I wondered more about Jen, but I never asked because the mention of Jen’s name always made Ma sad. Jen was locked away in Ma’s past life, her few remaining things in an old attic trunk. Every once in a while, I’d say or do something that seemed to remind her of Jen, and then she’d start to cry. I wanted to ask Carl about her, but he and I didn’t communicate. He was mostly cold and distant with me.”
The Inferno Collection Page 15
