Don

by Carlene Thompson

  "But I've done a lot of thinking since you left, Nat. I've missed you and I can't imagine my life without you."

  "And after I've been back for a while and you've stopped missing me? What then?"

  "You're not giving me a chance."

  "Kenny, I told you I need time to think. Time doesn't mean five days-"

  "Six."

  "Okay, six. Whatever. Besides, a lot has been going on around here."

  "I read in the newspaper about the murder of a Tamara Hunt in Port Ariel. Did you know her?"

  "Did I know her?" Natalie burst out. "Kenny, she was Lily's sister. You've met Lily."

  "Hey, don't get so mad because I didn't recognize the name of the married sister of someone I've met."

  "You make it all sound so casual." Cold anger filled her. "Lily is my best friend. Tamara was her twin. I've known them since I was a child and I've talked about them so much since we've been together, but you don't remember. You weren't even listening to me."

  "Of course I was listening. I'm just not good with names."

  "Another lie."

  "Why are you so mad?"

  She sighed. "I repeat that I asked for time. Considering what you did, I think you might have the decency to grant it. Instead, this is the second time in less than a week you've called. I am not ready to talk."

  "So I gather." He paused. "You only have one more week of vacation time. You'll come home then and we'll talk."

  Home. Home was the condo she shared with Kenny. Could she possibly go back there and pick up where they left off?

  I left off seeing Kenny in our bed with another woman, Natalie thought after hanging up the phone. Is that what he wants me to come home to?

  A dull headache was forming at the back of her head. Tension. She could not take another round with Kenny. She turned on the answering machine to screen calls.

  The doorbell rang. Natalie sighed. Now what? At least it couldn't be Kenny.

  She opened the door. Ruth Meadows stood smiling at her and holding a pie dish covered with aluminum foil. "I couldn't sleep last night so I baked a few pies. Your father told me once that your favorite is cherry, so I brought one over."

  "How nice of you!" Natalie was genuinely pleased. "I haven't had cherry pie for years." She stepped back. "Come in. Dad isn't here."

  "Oh, I knew he wouldn't be," Ruth said. "Shall I put this in the kitchen?"

  "Yes, please."

  She followed Ruth into the kitchen. Ruth opened a drawer, pulled out a dishtowel, laid it on the counter, and set the pie on it. "It's still warm from the oven and I wouldn't want to damage this Formica. Such a lovely leaf pattern in these autumn colors."

  "Dad had the kitchen remodeled last year. Nothing had been replaced since the house was built thirty years ago, but I was still surprised by the renovation."

  "Your father is happiest when he's working. When he came to my house for dinner, he immediately decided the railing on my deck isn't strong enough and he plans to replace it soon. I told him I could hire a handyman, but he insisted."

  "As you said, he's happiest when he's working." Natalie smiled. "And he likes you."

  A slight flush came to Ruth's cheeks. "Do you really think so?" Then she laughed. "My goodness, I sound like I'm twelve."

  "Well I shouldn't offer coffee to a twelve-year-old, but I put on a fresh pot not too long ago. Would you like some?"

  "Please. I hate these nights when I can't sleep. I get up and do any work I can think of. The next day I feel dragged out. I could use some caffeine."

  "Coming right up. Cream? Sugar?"

  "Just cream. I gave up sugar a couple of years ago along with some pounds."

  Natalie glanced at Ruth's trim body dressed today in aqua slacks that matched her eyes and a V-necked white knit top. At her throat hung a cameo on a gold chain.

  Ruth reached up and touched the pendent. "My husband Walter gave this to me for our anniversary. He died four years ago. Cancer."

  "I'm sorry."

  Ruth accepted the coffee cup from Natalie. "It was a prolonged illness. That was in Virginia, right outside of D.C. Walter had a government job. After his death I stayed for a while, but I just couldn't enjoy our house or my old life."

  "Why did you decide to move to Port Ariel?"

  "Walter and I toured the Great Lakes in the early sixties shortly after we were married. We spent a couple of nights here. I liked it. As a matter of fact, we stayed at that lovely old hotel The Blue Lady. Such a shame it burned down."

  "The dance pavilion is still standing."

  "But it's closed and terribly unsafe, according to Andrew. I'd like to see it again, but I wouldn't take the risk, even if it weren't locked up. Besides, I've heard about those awful murders that happened at the hotel just a few years after my honeymoon. So frightening!" She shivered. "No, you wouldn't get me near that place "

  A scary history and unsafe construction didn't stop me from going to the old place at night, Natalie thought uncomfortably. Not me and a nut claiming to be a dead woman.

  "Anyway," Ruth went on, "I came to Port Ariel for a quick visit after Walter's death and I made an impulse move five months ago."

  "So you're just getting used to the town."

  "Yes. I've made quite a few friends through church and the suicide hotline-that's how I met Tamara, you know- but I'm ashamed to say I haven't unpacked all my boxes yet." They sat at the kitchen table and Ruth looked out the big window. "This is such a spectacular view."

  "Yes, although today is overcast. The lake looks bleak."

  Ruth's smile wavered, "A couple of weeks after I moved here I took a walk by the lake. It was late February and such a dismal day. The lake looked so vast and gray and lonely I felt overwhelmed by it. I gave serious thought that night to moving back home. The next day the sun came out and I felt better. I knew this was where I was meant to be."

  Blaine padded into the kitchen. Ruth beamed and reached out a hand to the dog. "Here's the pretty girl! You've settled right in, haven't you?" The dog licked her hand and panted happily. Ruth looked at Natalie. "I saw your ad in the newspaper. Has anyone called about her?"

  "No, thank goodness."

  "You want to keep her, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Your father says you live in a condominium complex. Do they allow pets?"

  Natalie hadn't given the problem a thought. Pets were not allowed at Kenny's place and she had no intention of giving up Blaine except to her owners. If I really intended to go back to the condo, wouldn't I have considered what I would do with the dog? she asked herself.

  "I'm moving," she said abruptly.

  "I didn't know. Are you planning to buy a house?"

  "I'm not sure." Natalie took a sip of coffee. "My father has probably told you about my romantic relationship and living arrangement."

  "No, dear, he hasn't," Ruth said mildly. "He's mentioned that you see a doctor from the veterinary clinic where you work and I get the impression Andrew doesn't care for him, but he's never said much."

  "Oh," Natalie said in surprise.

  "It's your personal business, dear. Andrew respects your privacy."

  So her father might have something to say to her about every aspect of her life, but apparently he didn't broadcast his disapproval to everyone he knew. She had always assumed the worst, certain nothing she said to him was held in confidence. That hadn't been fair, she thought, especially because he never told her personal things about anyone he knew.

  The phone rang again. "The machine will get it," Natalie said. She and Ruth sat in silence until after the second ring when Kenny's disembodied voice floated into the kitchen. "Nat, it's me again. I didn't like the way we left things. We need to talk more. If you're there, please pick up." Natalie sat perfectly still. "Okay, call me back later. I'll be home all day. Love you."

  Natalie's gaze met Ruth's. "The reason I'm here."

  "So I thought. Love can be wonderful. It can also be unbearably painful."

  "Lately more
painful than wonderful." Her headache was getting worse. She rubbed her neck.

  "Tension headache?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  Ruth gave her a sympathetic smile. "I barged in on you before you even had a chance to get dressed. Why don't you take a couple of aspirins and a hot shower? You'll feel like a new woman. I'll be on my way."

  "Oh, don't go," Natalie said, suddenly hating the idea of being alone with Kenny's calls fresh in her mind. "I'd love to talk with you more. I'll make the shower quick."

  "Well, if you're sure you'd like for me to stay…"

  "I am."

  "Then take as long in the shower as you like. I'll have another cup of coffee."

  Natalie went into the small bathroom beside her bedroom. She stood in the shower stall letting the hot water massage her stiff neck muscles for at least five minutes. She was rinsing shampoo out of her hair when Ruth tapped on the bathroom door.

  "Natalie!"

  She turned off the water. "Yes?"

  "You just got a call from your friend Lily. She wants you to meet her. She says it's urgent."

  In two minutes Natalie stood in the hall wearing an old terry cloth robe she'd found in the depths of her closet and a towel on her wet hair. "I was standing on the terrace with Blaine," Ruth explained. "The phone rang twice and of course I knew the machine would pick up. Lily left her message. When I heard her say urgent I rushed in, but she'd already hung up."

  The light on the answering machine blinked twice. Natalie pushed the play button. The first message was Kenny's. Then a breathless female voice began. "Natalie, it's Lily. Are you there? I'm at Tamara's. Meet me here. It's urgent."

  "My goodness, she sounds half frantic," Ruth said.

  "Yes. She didn't even wait for me to answer if I'd heard the call. I'd better hurry."

  Ruth frowned. "Dear, do you think it's safe for you to go to Tamara's?"

  "Safe?"

  "Yes. The two people who lived in that house were murdered and Lily doesn't say what's wrong."

  "Tamara and Warren weren't murdered in the house and Lily wouldn't ask me to come to a dangerous place."

  Ruth looked concerned. "I'm not sure your father would want you to go."

  "Dad would like for me to sit in the house and watch TV. But Lily needs me, Ruth. I have to go."

  "I see I can't stop you," she said unhappily. "I want you to be careful, though. With all these awful murders, no one is safe." She paused. "I do wish you would give this a second thought. A lovely young woman wandering around by herself. Anything could happen. The world has turned into a dangerous place…"

  Ruth continued to warn and fret until Natalie handed the woman her purse and nearly pushed her out the door. Then she rushed back to her room, slipped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, ran a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair, and pulled it back with a large clasp. She grabbed her shoulder bag and headed for the front door.

  Blaine sat in the hall looking at her expectantly. "I'm sorry, girl. I promised you a walk this morning but something has come up." She opened the door, surprised by the cool air that wafted over her. A gray sky hung low like the lid on a box. She reached for a denim jacket hanging on the coat tree. Then she looked at Blaine again.

  "I don't know why Lily wants me to go to Tamara's," she said. "You might be in the way, but I have this odd feeling…" The dog turned in excited circles as Natalie picked up her leash. "I don't want to go out there alone. It's your lucky day."

  Blaine sat quiet and poised on the front seat, looking with interest at everything whizzing by. She left nose prints on the side window. Natalie flipped on the radio and stroked the dog's head as Linda Ronstadt's "Blue Bayou" played.

  When she reached Tamara's house, she was surprised to find the driveway empty. No red Corvette. Maybe Lily had been delayed or had to leave suddenly.

  She pulled in the driveway. Blaine jumped out behind her. Natalie held her leash although the dog clearly wasn't going off on her own. They climbed the porch steps. No note on the door. Feeling as guilty as a thief, Natalie turned the doorknob. Locked. She moved to the side and peered through the picture window into the living room. A book lay splayed on an end table as if someone had just put it down and would be right back. Only a week ago Tamara and Warren had lived in this house, Natalie thought. They'd slept, eaten, talked about their days, and now they were both dead. Not just dead-murdered, their throats slashed.

  Soon other people would live in this house. Their furniture, their pictures, their clothing would replace the Hunts'. But some essence of Tamara and Warren would always linger here. No one would ever forget what had happened to them.

  Natalie stepped off the porch and walked around the house. In Columbus, the daffodils and tulips already had disappeared, but here some faded blooms remained in Tamara's flowerbeds. Poppies and impatiens were just coming up. On the deck sat a glass-topped table with an umbrella. The green-and-white vinyl seat covers matched that of the glider and rocker. An expensive gas grill rested nearby. Leaves brought down in the storm the night Tamara was murdered littered the deck. If she had lived, every leaf would have been gone by noon the next day. Dear, meticulous Tam.

  Tam. On the answering machine Lily had said Tamara but Natalie could not remember Lily ever calling her sister anything except Tam. Either my memory is faulty or Lily was really upset, Natalie thought. What on earth could be wrong?

  She looked beyond the lawn to Hyacinth Lane. The dirt road was only visible for about a hundred yards until trees and vines obscured it from view. Her gaze drifted skyward.

  Vultures.

  "Oh, my God!" she cried, the image of Tamara's ravaged face flashing through her mind. "Lily!"

  Natalie ran toward the road. She'd dropped Blaine's leash, but the dog galloped along beside her without a moment's hesitation. The last time Natalie had been out on this road, Blaine had run ahead to show her where Tamara's body lay. Today she thought if the dog ran ahead, then started furiously barking, she would faint.

  Dirt and gravel crunched under her Reeboks. Much too soon her breath grew short. She used to run daily but had abandoned the routine months ago. Now she was out of shape. Blaine pulled ahead, then dropped back as if she sensed Natalie's need for a companion.

  Natalie tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, but they drifted up again. The ugly birds circled. At least they weren't feasting. Yet.

  A wave of nausea and breathlessness forced her to slow down. She was close now, but close to what? Oh, please don't let it be Lily, she prayed.

  She saw a gray-white heap in the middle of the road. A hairy gray-white heap with a long bare rat-like tail. A dead opossum.

  Natalie stopped abruptly and her vision blurred. She bent over, hands on knees, and drew deep, slow breaths. First she thought she would faint from fear. Now she thought she might faint from relief.

  Blaine barked and drew closer. Natalie's head shot up. A man stopped in front of them, looking at Blaine with caution.

  "I just wanted to see if you were all right," he said.

  His voice was familiar. Natalie wiped away the perspiration dripping from her forehead into her eyes and blinked. Tall. Slender. Dark blond hair curling over the collar of his denim shirt. The man she'd met in Lily's store.

  "Jeff Lindstrom?"

  He smiled. "You remembered." He looked at Blaine. "Will you tell Lassie I'm harmless?"

  "Her name is Blaine. She's very protective." Natalie was not sure this was true, although the dog was showing protective tendencies, but she suddenly recalled that the night Charlotte Bishop had been murdered she was seen arguing with a man who fit Jeff's description. She did not touch the dog, hoping Blaine would maintain her tense stance. "What are you doing out here?"

  "Sightseeing. Someone told me about the Saunders house. I have to admit I was disappointed. They said the place was a little run-down. It's a wreck."

  "So I've heard. My friends and I used to go there when we were kids. Back then it was run-down. I haven't seen it for ages." />
  "You and your friends?" He flashed the smile that at first had struck Natalie as open. Now it seemed studied. "Would that be Lily and Tamara Peyton?"

  "Well, yes. How did you know?"

  "When I was in Curious Things I could tell you were a good friend of Lily. Tamara was her twin. Simple deduction." The smile. "It really is terrible about Tamara. People in town have told me the details of her murder. She was found on this road, wasn't she?"

  "Yes."

  "By Lily and you." She nodded. "Hell of a thing. Who do you suppose would want to kill a lovely young woman like Tamara?"

  "That's what the police are wondering."

  "Then her husband and that Bishop woman. They must have been involved. Did Tamara know?"

  "I have no idea," Natalie said faintly. She was growing alarmed. He was asking too many questions, watching her too intently. "I really have to be getting back."

  "Why were you running? You looked like you were scared to death."

  "Did I?" She forced a smile. "What you saw was strain, not fear. I haven't run for a long time."

  "That wasn't a simple jog I saw. Tell me. What's wrong?"

  You're scaring the hell out of me, that's what's wrong, Natalie thought. She wouldn't show it, though. "Nothing is wrong. I just ran too far too fast and I started to feel sick. I'm fine now.".

  "You don't look fine." He moved one step closer. "You're very pale."

  Blaine emitted a low growl. Jeff barely looked at her. His gaze held Natalie's.

  "I am fine." Turn around and walk, part of her said. Another part told her not to turn her back on this man. It would be easy for him to grab her and pull a knife neatly across her throat. "Did you drive out here? I didn't see a car."

  "It's parked over there." He motioned vaguely toward the end of Tamara's street. "I've been around here for hours."

  "Then you must be ready to go back. Walk with us."

  "Wouldn't you like to see the Saunders house? You said you haven't been there for a long time."

  No, dammit! she screamed inwardly. Should she chance it and turn away? He certainly didn't seem intimidated by Blaine and she couldn't stand here forever.