She hurried past him, saying over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Mark. If the hornets come to sting, I promise to protect you.”
Chapter 19
Dear Bob,
Can a person die of a broken heart?
Signed,
Lost
Dear Lost,
Yes.
Signed,
Bob
The Glory Examiner
August 28, section B3
Susan closed the top folder, then rubbed her face with both hands. The Murder Mystery Club actually had something going with the “dossiers.” With a seemingly haphazard collection method, they’d managed to gather an incredible amount of information in just a few weeks. In the last six days, Susan had taken time to confirm the veracity of as much of the information as possible and found it surprisingly accurate.
If these dossiers were a good example of the rest of the batch, there was no telling what had led to the break-in. Though Susan now knew more about her neighbors, she hadn’t seen a thing that seemed inflammatory. At least not in these.
She sighed and pushed her chair back from her desk, stretching her arms overhead to ease the tension in her shoulders. If she’d learned anything from the folders, it was that she’d never throw out another receipt without shredding it first. She might burn her shredded paper, too, just in case the Murder Mystery Club decided to tape some of her receipts back together. You never knew how far that crew would go. She glanced up at the clock. It was almost nine; time to go home. Lately, she’d found it harder and harder to do so, even with Krypton’s welcoming presence. Something now felt missing. Something—someone—she’d never had.
Her heart ached at the thought. It was so painful seeing Mark here, day in and day out, while trying to pretend she was fine. She wasn’t fine. She’d started to care for him. It was a good thing she’d stopped that nonsense right in its tracks.
Pat’s flat-footed walk sounded in the hall, then the older women stuck her head in the door. “Still here, eh?”
“Dedication is my middle name.”
“Humph.” Pat’s gaze fell on the pink and blue folders and her mouth pressed into a straight line. “Those are the dossiers! How did you get those?”
“Clara gave them to me.”
“Does Tundy know?”
“Not yet.”
Pat looked slightly mollified. “Oh. I thought maybe Tundy was playing favorites. She refused to let me even peek at ’em.”
“I wonder how many other people know about these?”
“Most of the town, I’d think. I saw Lucy Carpenter at the library this morning—”
“She sure spends a lot of time there.”
“I see her going in there almost every day. Anyway, I heard her tell Deloris that if the Murder Mystery Club ever came snooping at her house for a so-called dossier, she’d slap a lawsuit on them so fast it would make their head spin.”
“A lawsuit? For what?”
“I dunno. She didn’t say.”
Hmm. That was interesting. Susan pulled out her notepad and began paging through it. “Something odd is happening in Glory. Which is a good thing, I suppose, because between the vandalism on my Jeep and boat and the attempted thefts at the assisted-living center, we’ve worked up a good string of stories.”
Pat beamed. “We have, haven’t we?”
“Your piece on my boat was masterful. I particularly liked the headline—‘In the Lake? Big Mistake!’”
“Why, thank you. I appreciate that.” Pat glanced at the Lois Lane clock on the wall and made a face. “Guess I’d better go. I want to stop by Micki & Maud’s for a roast beef to go, and they don’t do carry-out after nine.”
“OK, thanks, Pat.” Susan waved her on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Pat hurried off. A moment later, the ping of the elevator sounded and she was gone.
Susan rose from her desk and reached for her purse when—
Crash! A paper-covered rock landed on her office floor among the shattered glass. Susan jumped and made her way to the window. In the parking lot below she could hear Clara say, “Damn it, C.J., you weren’t supposed to break the window! Just knock on it gentle like.”
Tundy yelled, “Get in the van! We’re haulin’ ass!”
Of course, with Clara’s wheelchair, it took them a five full minutes to make their escape. Susan had to laugh at their arguments. Once they were gone, she carefully fetched the rock and undid the paper.
She read the note, her humor disappearing. For a long time afterward, she sat staring out her broken window. Then she reached for the phone.
The Murder Mystery Club
invites you to a party tomorrow,
this Thursday at 7 p.m. at Micki & Maud’s Diner.
Don’t RSVP, just show up.
There will be lots of surprises.
Cookies after.
“Did you get one of these?” Roxie held out the invitation written on notebook paper in thick Sharpie pen.
Mark glanced up from where he’d placed a shirt in his suitcase. “Yes.”
“The meeting is tomorrow.” Roxie sat down on the edge of his bed. “I wonder what Tundy and her gang are up to now?”
“Who knows?” Mark folded a tie and placed it beside the shirt.
“Are you going?”
He shrugged.
Roxie looked at him for a long moment, then got up and shut the door and locked it. Then she went to the radio and turned to the jazz station.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure Mother doesn’t listen in.” Roxie’s eyes were grave and considering. “OK, we have privacy. So spill.”
“Spill what?”
“You’ve been a total mope this last week, and now you’re packing. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Mark zipped the case closed. “All done. I have enough clothes in my overnight case for the next day or two and then I’ll be out of your hair.” And out of Susan’s life.
“Mark, you haven’t answered my question.”
“Because I’m not going to.”
“You might as well. I can just get the answer from Susan, you know.”
“I didn’t say my leaving had anything to do with Susan.”
“You haven’t said that it doesn’t.”
He sighed. “Look, I agreed to stay long enough to make sure the paper was on the right track, that’s all.”
“And is it?”
“It’s getting there. Readership is up, thanks to the more aggressive reporting Susan and Pat are doing–”
“Susan’s accidents helped that.”
“Some. So has the Bake-Off controversy. I wish we could figure that one out.” He shrugged. “Susan will do that. When she does, let me know, will you?”
“No, I won’t. You can ask her yourself.”
He picked up his suitcase and placed it on the floor, his chest so tight he felt as if a huge weight rested upon it. “Roxie, I can’t stay. That’s all there is to it. The paper’s in better shape than ever. Just listen to Susan; she knows what she’s talking about. Because of her, not only is readership up, but so are ad sales. Ray is a natural.”
Roxie put her hand on his arm. “Mark, she’s just as miserable as you.”
Which didn’t make him feel any better. “She’ll be fine. She has several hundred friends. I know because her father told me so.”
Roxie made a face. “That man is a jerk.”
“He’s all she has.”
“She could have more, Mark.”
“Not from me.” He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, facing his sister. “Look, Roxie, I know you’re trying to help, but it’s not meant to be.”
“Then why are you both so miserable?”
“Because sometimes it’s harder to lose what might be.” He couldn’t wait to get back to Raleigh. Once there, he was sure he’d sleep again, something he hadn’t been able to do lately. He was exhausted and cranky.
Seeing Susan almost every day didn’t help
one bit. Every time he looked at her, he burned with desire tinged with the sad knowledge that they weren’t meant to be. She stayed out of the office more now, but they couldn’t avoid each other all of the time, and when he did run into her, he was stung with desire. Not just stung, but stabbed, sliced, and diced. He wanted her, and he wanted her now.
But he couldn’t have her, because he couldn’t afford to pay the price. It was that simple and that difficult.
He raked a hand through his hair. “She’s a Glory girl, Roxie. She’s not going to leave.”
“So stay here.”
“I don’t belong here. I have my business and a life in Raleigh.”
Roxie lifted her brows. “A life? All you do is work, work, work, and then work some more.”
He frowned. “It’s what I have.”
“It’s worth trading in. Look, I don’t know why you and Susan aren’t together, but I do think you’ve been hasty in deciding you can’t work out whatever the problem is. She’s worth fighting for.” Roxie’s brows lowered. “Did you read this morning’s ‘Dear Bob’?”
He glanced at the newspaper on his nightstand and sighed. “Yes.”
“And?”
“Bob is wrong. You can’t die from a broken heart.”
“She’s hurting, Mark.”
“So am I, but that doesn’t fix things. And she’d hurt even more if I stayed. We both would.”
“Know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You’re too much alike: that’s the real problem.” She sighed. “What about the attempts to scare Susan?”
“I asked Nick to keep an eye on her. He promised he would.”
“I’m sure he will, but he can’t be everywhere. Whoever’s trying to frighten her could go too far.”
Mark had purposefully not thought about that aspect, though it haunted his nights. “Nick put a watch on Lucy Carpenter and nothing’s happened since.”
Roxie frowned. “I don’t think it was Lucy.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “It just doesn’t seem like something a woman might do for vengeance. A woman would plan something more spectacular, something humiliating. Besides, you said yourself that Lucy came looking for Susan right as her boat was sinking. Why would Lucy do that if she knew where Susan was?”
“To make herself look innocent?” At Roxie’s annoyed glare, he threw up one hand. “I don’t know. If I thought Susan was in any real danger, I’d stay. But she’s not.” He crossed to the radio and turned it off. “And that’s that.” He unlocked the door. “I’m going to get some of that apple pie Mother made. You want some?”
Roxie sighed. “You’re avoiding the subject.”
“As much as I can.” He kissed his sister’s forehead. “Come on. Last one to the kitchen has to scoop the ice cream.”
Susan was so busy getting ready for Thursday’s meeting that she barely saw Mark, which was good. Just this morning, she’d overheard him talking on the phone to Roxie. Susan wasn’t certain, but thought she’d heard him say something about “wanting to leave as early as possible.”
Was that it, then? Was he simply going to drive out of her life forever, just like that?
She wondered if he’d even bother to say good-bye. He’d made no attempt to do so as of yet. Feeling lower then she’d ever felt, she made her way to Micki & Maud’s a full hour before the meeting time and settled at her favorite seat.
Connie set a pie on the counter and Susan leaned over and sniffed. “Mmmm. Heaven. How do you get your pecan pies to smell like that?”
Roxie nudged Susan out of the way. “Forget the smell; I want a taste.” Susan had been surprised that Roxie was already at the diner.
She reached out a finger, but Connie swept the pie out of reach and placed it on a pie stand behind the counter. “Nuh uh. This is a birthday pie and it’s not for general consumption.”
“I bet I know who it’s for,” Susan said, smiling. “Ethan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”
Connie’s face turned a fiery red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Roxie chuckled. “That’s it, deny everything. It makes falling in love so much easier.”
Susan nodded wisely. “It’s just a short step from denial to stalking. I just read about that on TMZ. Happens all of the time in Hollywood.”
“If I were going to stalk someone,” Roxie said, “and this is just hypothetical, mind you, it would most definitely be Ethan.”
Susan thought Ethan was plenty sexy, but he didn’t affect her the way a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed, eyeglass-wearing accountant did. Which was a true tragedy.
“Ethan’s a total hottie.” Roxie fanned herself with a napkin. “Those eyes!”
“Those arms,” Connie enthused. “What does he work out with? Train carriages?”
“Car axles.” Susan looked into the pie case. “Are you saving the apple pie for anyone’s birthday, or can we have a piece of that?”
Connie pulled out the pie. “Want it à la mode?”
“Yes. Yes. Oh, and yes.”
“I’ll have the same thing,” Roxie added.
They were soon eating their pie. Susan glumly wished her jeans weren’t getting so tight, but since her discussion with Mark—she couldn’t bring herself to call it an argument since they’d agreed—she’d been eating nonstop. Pies, cakes, chocolate bars; if it was sweet and rich, she’d been eating it.
The door jingled and Pat came in. She nodded briefly at Susan and Roxie, and found an empty table near the jukebox.
Roxie licked her spoon. “So … Mark’s packing for Raleigh.”
Susan rammed a spoonful of pie into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to say anything.
Roxie slid her a sideways glance. “He seems sad.”
Unable to swallow the pie, Susan reached for her glass of water and took a small sip.
The door creaked open and old Sheriff Thompson walked in, removed his hat, and took a seat beside Todd Barkins, the president of Glory National Bank.
Roxie reached over the counter and refilled her coffee cup. “It’s hard to see him so upset, but he won’t even talk about it.”
Susan put her glass down. “Roxie?”
Roxie looked at her with a hopeful expression. “Yes?”
“It’ll be time for the meeting soon.”
Roxie sighed. “You want me to change the subject.”
“Desperately.”
“Fine. Though you’d feel better if you’d just get it off your chest.”
“I doubt it.” Susan refilled her own cup. “Do you think all of the folks here are waiting for the meeting?”
“Most of them.” Roxie looked around. “There are a lot of people here.”
Susan eyed the other customers. “I know Pat was invited. She told me this morning.”
Roxie nodded to the far table by the window. “Both Pastor Lawrence and Pastor MacMillan were invited, as was Lucy Carpenter.”
“Great,” Susan muttered.
“I’ll protect you. There’s more pie in the cabinet and I don’t think a little bitty thing like her could withstand a coconut crème between the eyes.”
Susan laughed. “I guess not.” She turned her stool a bit more. “There’s Deloris Fishbine, Mitzi Ketteringer, June Berlitzer, and Doc Wilson.”
“He’s enjoying being at a table full of women.”
“His wife says he’s a horrible flirt.”
Roxie grinned. “I heard that Robin and the mayor weren’t invited, and she’s mad about it.”
“Looks like she decided to attend anyway.”
The door swung open and Robin stepped in, dressed in a too-tight skirt and white knit shirt. The mayor was hard on her heels, smiling vapidly every time she looked his way, which wasn’t often. Robin cast a defiant stare around, her gaze locking with that of the new pastor, Scott Lawrence.
To Susan’s surprise a flush suffused Robin’s face, and she turned away from the empty table n
ear him and led her pathetic boyfriend to a table across the room. That was interesting. Why had Robin reacted to the pastor in such a—
“Here come Nick and Mark.” Roxie waved as her fiancé and her brother entered the diner.
Heart aching, Susan turned her attention back to her pie. Tonight was one of the last times they’d see each other … It didn’t bear thinking about.
“I wonder where Tundy and her gang are?” Nick placed a folder on the counter. “Good evening, Susan. That looks delicious. I might have me a piece—Ethan!” Nick waved Ethan over as the creaky screen door closed behind the biker. “Don’t tell me you got invited to this madness, too?”
“Yup.” Ethan brushed his long dark hair from his eyes. “Don’t know what’s going on, but if it has to do with the Murder Mystery Club, you can count me in. That Clara’s a character. She pinched me at the Piggly Wiggly last week.” His slow, sexy grin made Connie, who was standing as close as she could without being rude, sigh with wonder.
“Clara’s a danger to herself and others,” Nick said in a severe voice.
Ethan chuckled. “I forget she’s your great-aunt.”
“I never do,” Nick said fervently.
Ethan claimed the stool beside Susan as the door opened again.
This time Tundy came in, pushing Clara in her wheelchair. Clara’s cane was neatly stowed across her lap. Rose stomped behind her, scowling as if going to battle. C.J. staggered in after her, carrying a large box.
“The dossiers,” Susan murmured.
“Quite a collection,” Nick agreed. “And thorough.”
“Have you seen them?”
Nick crossed his arms and gave a faint smile. “I spent all afternoon going through each and every one.”
Ethan frowned. “They have dossiers on all of us?”
“You wouldn’t believe it if we told you,” Susan said.
Tundy parked Clara, while C.J. placed the box on the nearest table. Rose rubbed her hands together as if ready to burst into song.
Lois Lane Tells All Page 21
