by Karen Ranney
Army was just sad, his eyes filling with tears as he told me of Linda's death and Dorothy's grief. Frankly, I wasn't feeling very compassionate about Dorothy right now.
Talbot, however, was neither wise nor sad. He was pissed. I could tell by the glint in his gray eyes. He hadn't stopped watching me from his perch near the window. I girded myself for that conversation, hoping he would wait until Tom left.
He didn't.
"You want to tell me what that is all about?" he asked.
I realized, as Tom glanced at him, that it wasn't the ghosts of Christmas in my room, it was the judicial system. Army investigated the crimes in the role of citizen crusader. Talbot was the police, and Tom the legal spoke in the wheel.
I was the only one who didn't fit.
What I really wanted was for the nurse to come in and shoo them all away. No one showed up and I could only wonder if it was Talbot’s presence that kept the medical personnel at bay.
I looked at Army. His eyes were red, and he kept dabbing at the end of his nose with a silk handkerchief.
"We need to tell him," I said.
He nodded, but remained silent.
What was it with Army? I'd just had surgery. Was I supposed to tell all?
"I know Evelyn was murdered," I said, rather than wait for him to compose himself. "And I think Paul was having an affair with Dorothy," I added, thinking of all the dishes in his refrigerator. We were a kindly group, in the King Lion District, but we weren't that kind.
"We discovered Evelyn had a large mortgage on her house," Army said, evidently composed enough to take up the tale.
"And she wouldn't have done that," I said. "And so did Linda."
Army nodded. "For two hundred thousand dollars."
"We wanted to make sure she knew," I said.
"You thought it your business to meddle in her financial affairs?" Tom asked, his voice deceptively calm. I knew that tone. It preceded a restrained and decorous temper tantrum. "I understand she had a heart attack.”
"After she pushed me down the stairs," I said, just as calmly.
"We'll be lucky if Dorothy doesn't sue you," he said, shaking his head.
"Thank you for your concern, Tom. Really, don't be so emotional."
"Jennifer." A word of caution, to remember our audience. Army was studying the floor. Talbot was suddenly interested in the view of the gravel roof behind him.
It was one thing for Maude to treat me like I was a younger sister. Quite another for my own husband to take on a paternalistic tone. I resented it.
"Don't you have a case to prepare for?" I sweetly asked. "Or some subordinate to lecture? I'd call Mary Lynn, if I were you. Maybe she needs you."
For a long, ticking moment, we stared at each other. He opened his mouth to say something else when Frank entered the room, reaching Army in three long strides to embrace him and kiss him full on the mouth.
I closed my eyes to give them a little privacy and when I opened them, they'd parted, Tom had left, and Talbot was studying the ceiling.
"Who are you?" Frank asked, staring at Talbot.
"This is Bill Talbot," Army said. "Remember, I told you about him. Bill used to be a Texas Ranger."
It was easy to hide my surprise; my features were frozen into what I've come to call my polite face. I was trying not to cry over Tom's remarks.
"We should let you rest," Frank said, studying my face carefully.
Sunlight favored Frank, adding highlights of red and gold to his thinning brown hair. His brown eyes were warm and friendly. In his youth, he was probably an attractive man.
"No, we shouldn't," Talbot said, surprising me.
I suppose I could have claimed patient status. My chin was scraped, my palms were raw, the drugs were wearing off and my leg was throbbing, especially the area below my knee.
Talbot, however, was looking determined. But, then, Talbot always looked determined. He set his jaw in a certain way and you just knew he wasn't going away anytime soon.
I closed my eyes. When I opened them, he was still there.
"Nobody's moving until I get the rest of the story," Talbot said.
Frank pulled out the lone visitor chair, sat, crossed his legs, and cupped his hands over his knee. He smiled engagingly, which left all of us staring at him.
"Well," he said, "I'm not leaving. I want to hear, too."
Frank knew most of it, except for the meeting at Linda's house. Army and I repeated what we'd said before Tom became a Certifiable Asshole.
"The neighborhood needs watching," Frank said, when we were done.
Between Mrs. Maldonado, Maude, and Army, I thought we had that covered.
Talbot's face, as always, gave nothing away. Except for the time he'd been sampling Maude's chocolate cake, I'd never known what he was thinking.
“What do you know about Dorothy?” I asked.
Talbot didn't say a word, but Army didn’t disappoint.
“She used to be the district director of a national charity,” he said.
I couldn't imagine anyone trusting Dorothy with their money and said so.
“She lost that job last year. I think she’s been doing temporary work ever since then.” He hesitated. “It's been a difficult year for her, financially, which is why she came to live with Linda."
"You all think Ms. Addison was murdered?" Talbot asked, breaking his silence.
Army laid it all out, in such a credible manner that even Talbot looked impressed.
"You have to admit," Army said when he'd finished, "that it's plausible she was murdered."
"The mortgage angle is a motive. One we didn't have before."
Well, at least he recognized we'd contributed something.
"But I don't know about murder," Talbot added.
"Some poisons mimic a heart attack," Army said.
"Poison is traditionally a woman's method," Frank added.
“What does that mean, exactly?” I asked carefully.
“It’s not a sexist comment,” he said calmly, “as much as one based in realism. A woman has less upper body strength.”
“Which might mean something if you’re using a knife, but doesn’t mean a lot when you’re shooting a gun.”
“True, but do you think a woman is capable of standing in front of a man and shooting him?”
I eyed him with disbelief. “Of course.” I wanted to do something similar right now.
“But, in this case, it isn’t a gun, is it?" Army said. "It's two different methods. Either we have two killers, or one very clever, opportunistic killer."
Talbot rolled his eyes. "Right now, we don't have anything," he said, snapping his notebook shut. "No murder. No killers."
"You have to get the proof, Bill," Army said. "At least she wasn't cremated."
I looked at him, then at Talbot, in horror. "You're not thinking of exhuming Evelyn?"
"Do you have a better suggestion?" Talbot asked.
At my silence, he nodded. "I don't suppose anyone has any nail clippings or hair samples?"
"She had alopecia," I said. "She didn't have any hair. Or not much of it."
I looked to Army for help, but he was looking pleased and almost smug.
They couldn't dig Evelyn up - the idea was ghoulish. Oh, Evelyn, I am sorry.
I lay my head back on the pillow, suddenly exhausted. The day had been an eventful one: first, I worked for a few hours, then I got thrown down a set of steps, had surgery, and was now being grilled. Maybe the grilling part was a little hyperbolic.
"Couldn't you just prove Paul was murdered?"
"Got any proof?" he asked again.
I'd begun to warm toward Talbot. Now I was cooling again.
I had my thumb an inch away from the nurse button. If I pressed it, someone might come. Someone might send all of them away.
Before I could push the button, Talbot surprised me.
"We're looking into Norton's death," he said, looking around the room, his gaze touching on Army, then me.
A few seconds later, he was out the door, leaving all of us to look at each other.
"He's right," I said, sighing. "We don't have anything. Just a theory."
"It's a damn good theory," Frank said, standing. He moved to Army's side, wordless support.
"Maybe I've allowed emotion to cloud my judgment," I said.
"She was your friend," Army said, his voice kind.
"My dearest friend," I said, staring up at the ceiling.
Had I imagined a murder as a way of coping with the suddenness of Evelyn's death? Who were my supporters? A group of people who liked to try to solve murders as a hobby. Of course they'd see Evelyn's death as murder. And my detractors? My husband and Talbot.
What if I was wrong? What if Evelyn had simply died too soon and Paul had only been guilty of not being careful?
What about Linda? Maybe she knew she wasn’t long for the world and wanted to spend the cash in a way that might benefit her children.
Was I was going to have to look up recipes for crow?
15
"You look very nice," I said to Tom.
He should. He was wearing a thousand dollar Italian suit. His tie was silk, a muted gray in honor of the occasion.
I'd been specifically forbidden to attend Linda's memorial service. Dorothy had made it plain I wasn't welcome. In all honestly, I wasn't eager to attend yet another funeral, but I thought intentions should count for something. I'd wanted to protect Linda. I hadn't gone to her house for any other motive than that.
Linda, after all, had pushed me down the steps.
Another case of the deceased being forgiven all their acts?
He stood in the doorway of my office, staring at me as if I had somehow just materialized, a stranger using a room in his house, a burglar with administrative tendencies.
I almost asked if he was going to take Mary Lynn to the service with him, but I didn't because that would have been bitchy and tacky. One at a time.
He didn't have the same restraint. As he turned to leave, he said, "With any luck, I can talk Dorothy out of suing you."
"No doubt," I said."You've always had a lot of charm when you wanted to use it, Thomas."
"Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone."
The words dug into me like little shovels.
"Bastard," I said under my breath.
He heard me.
Slowly, he turned, staring at me.
I didn't look away. I didn't apologize. I merely smiled in that utterly charming and vacuous way I have.
"I'll try," I said.
Evelyn would have told me to screw his brains out. Damn, but I missed her. After Tom left, I sat and stared out the window, not seeing my overgrown garden touched by sunlight, but my friend.
What had Evelyn seen in Paul? We joked about women being sexual until the day we died. Was that it? Was Paul so good in bed she'd welcomed him into her house and her life?
Sex was one of those things that hadn't been high on my list of priorities for a while. Evelyn had given us an anniversary gift of body chocolate. Tom had put the lid back on the box without commenting. Later, in private, I opened one of the jars, Milk Chocolate Macadamia Madness, coated one knuckle, and licked it off.
That's as far as I'd ventured into depravity, damn it. Maybe I was due.
Where had that thought come from?
“You're doing too much,” Maude said, entering my office.
"I have a contract evaluation due," I said.
I'd taken off for Evelyn's funeral and a few days after my surgery. Consequently, I was still behind. For nearly a week, I'd been working all day every day to catch up.
"Can't you stop for lunch?"
"I'm almost done," I said. I hated being interrupted, especially when I was this close to finishing.
"I'll make you a sandwich and some soup," she said.
I nodded, intent on my typing. I wasn't going to make any friends with my recommendations, because I hadn't found the contract amenable to the government. I probably wasn't going to please Maude, either. I’ve given up trying to please Tom.
"And some cookies," Maude said.
I glanced over to find her smiling at me.
"Cookies would be good," I said, smiling back.
A few minutes later, she was as good as her word. Instead of my meager allotment of two cookies, I got four, along with a thermos of coffee and a tuna sandwich.
“Don’t work until midnight,” she said.
I glanced at her.
"I know you," she said. "You'll work until you finish, no matter how late it is.”
She did know me.
I wondered what else she knew. That my marriage was hanging by a thread? That I was beginning to think Mary Lynn was more to Tom than simply an associate? That I was really worried that I wasn't more worried?
Rather than ask her, I finished up the budget projections for the renovations of a building at Randolph Air Force Base, matched them with the contracts that weren't going to be awarded now, digitally signed the cover letter, reviewed all the necessary attachment documentation, and sent it off to my boss.
Not exactly earth shattering stuff, but I'd had enough earth shattering stuff to last for a while.
I heard Maude leave a few hours later. Tom wasn't home, but Sally was company. What did that say about our relationship?Something was going to have to give and soon.
The house settled in around me, the wind pushing the holly bushes against the low slung windows. I normally loved autumn, but now I remembered something Evelyn had said.
"It's the dying time of year."
We'd certainly had that, hadn't we? Evelyn, Paul, and Linda.
I still hadn't received word about Paul's funeral. I wondered who would see to the arrangements. Out of respect for Evelyn, I'd attend.
When the doorbell rang, I actually considered not answering it. I looked at my watch, then glanced in the direction of the front of the house, then looked at my watch again.
Finally, I reluctantly stood.
Sally yawned, stretched, and came to my side. I bent and petted her. “It's about time you got up from your nap,” I said. “You can't sleep all day long, you know. Otherwise you’ll be up all night. And you and I both know you’re a lousy watch dog.”
She looked mildly insulted, then ruined the look by yawning.
The doorbell rang again.
“Well, should we answer that? Let's hope it's Mrs. Maldonado's grandson, selling candy for the band."
She shook her head, fluffing her ruff, but didn't otherwise comment.
We walked through the house to the front door, and after peering through the side window, I sighed, and opened the door.
Talbot stood there, hands behind his back at parade rest. I hadn't seen him since he'd abruptly left the recovery room a week ago.
"Got a minute?"
I nodded.
"I'd like to talk to you about Paul Norton."
Again? I blew out a breath, turned, and led the way through my house. I heard the door shut and lock behind me, and Sally's ecstatic moan. I glanced over my shoulder to see Talbot scratching my dog behind the ears.
"Don't be a slut, Sally."
She paid absolutely no attention to me.
"Norton was quite a busy boy in the last few years," Talbot said, straightening.
I led the way to the Great Room, sat and waved him to a chair, wondering if I should offer him something to drink or eat.
He sat, Sally at his feet - traitor - and pulled out his notebook.
"His previous addresses were Arizona two years ago and California two years before that. He lived with a woman in both places and,” he looked at me, “surprise, surprise, both were victims of identity theft."
My heart began to race. "Really? Did he leave behind any bodies?"
"No bodies, only two women who thought of him with fondness. They cried about him."
"I must have been immune to Paul's charm."
He smiled. “Evidently, they didn't put two
and two together. They only realized they were victims after he left. Both of them had credit cards maxed out.”
“Any mortgages?”
He shook his head.
"Were they both professional women?"
"One was a doctor, the other a vet."
This thought really annoyed me. "Were they older?"
He nodded.
"Army was right," I said, staring at the far wall. “Paul was using Evelyn." I felt something loosen up inside me, a coiled spring that had been there ever since Evelyn's death.
“Still, I got the feeling that either woman would have welcomed him back with open arms."
"Love makes fools of all of us."
We looked at each other. He broke the gaze first, glancing down at his notebook again.
"Were they both patrons of the arts? Or was he a stained glass artist when he was with them?" Frankly, I could understand if Paul had pretended to be an artist more than I could him being serious about it.
Talbot smiled. "He didn't bother changing his name and they both thought he was enormously talented."
Again, I felt that cognitive dissonance when Paul's looks or talent were mentioned. I hadn't seen any talent and he was just normal looking. His ears didn't stick out. Both eyes were the same color - although, right at the moment, I couldn't remember what color they'd been - and he had two legs and two arms.
"But a funny thing," Talbot said, interrupting my thoughts. "Both women asked about his sister, and wanted to know how she was taking the news of his death."
"Sister?"
He nodded, folded his notebook, and tucked it into his pocket.
“I thought he didn’t have any family.”
“I haven’t been able to find any.”
He bent down to scratch Sally in front of one ear. She sighed blissfully, her back leg keeping time. The way Talbot was going, she was going to follow him home.
"Then he did have an accomplice," I said, remembering the Murder Club meeting. “Someone who could pretend to be Evelyn.”
Talbot leaned back in the chair, regarding me in silence. I had the strangest feeling he was trying to figure out a way to give me some bad news.
I was right.
"The tox screen came in a few hours ago. It didn't show anything. Evelyn Addison died of a heart attack, Jennifer."
I stared at him.
