by Alice Sharpe
Alex’s brow furrowed. “Liz, what do you really know about Ron? Or Emily, for that matter?”
“Well, we’ve both known Ron for eighteen months but for most of that time, he was simply another employee. Thanks to a background check before I hired him, I know where he used to work and that his former employers gave him good references. Since we’ve become friends, I’ve learned that he nursed his mother through a fatal illness and that his sister was involved in a messy divorce. I don’t know much about Emily because I wasn’t working much when she applied for a lease. She filled out the usual forms and Jane Ridgeway ran the background check and approved the lease. It was all slightly irregular, but my uncle had just died and I was on bed rest and you—”
“It’s okay,” he said, covering her hand with his own.
She looked at his lean, strong hand and fought the desire to put her head down on top of it. When he’d held her out in the yard, she’d felt so safe, his heart thumping because of the way he’d run up the stairs to make certain she was all right, his hands and lips incredibly hot and protective. He was constantly putting her welfare above his own.
Alex said, “Ron and Emily rallied to your side during an extremely difficult time. I know you feel bad for even suspecting them, but we have to suspect everyone.”
“I’ve been a miserably selfish friend to both Ron and Emily,” she said. “I know so little about them and I’ve all but ignored them since you came home.” The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. If Alex ever had to go away again, she wouldn’t be worthy of their friendship.
It couldn’t be one of them. Why in the world would either one want to kill her uncle and implicate her? Now Roger Kapp, he was a different story. He might have been blackmailing her uncle; that might have led to murder and then a plan to frame her that Alex spoiled by confessing, but worked even better as he hated Alex. And then there was Harry Idle. Perhaps he got together with an old crony or his landscaping honey and plotted a savage revenge for Devon Hiller’s tyranny. But could Ron or Emily or any one of the thirty people who would attend the staff Christmas party the next night do such things? It was inconceivable.
Suddenly ravenous, Liz rummaged in the refrigerator as Alex fed Sinbad, crooning over the little beast as though he was a baby. She hadn’t been to the store in so long there was precious little to eat. She finally found a couple of servings of frozen onion soup in the freezer and popped them in the oven. An hour later, they sat down to steaming bowls of fragrant broth topped with croutons and stringy cheese.
“Delicious,” Liz said.
“After dinner, I want to go across the street and talk to Harry,” Alex said as he studied his soup. “Don’t worry,” he added, a glint in his eye. “I’m plenty calm now. I want to hear his explanation about his presence in our yard before he has time to embroider his story.” Their eyes met as he added, “Why don’t you come with me?”
She was only too happy to comply. It seemed nothing good ever happened when they were apart.
HARRY’S INADEQUATE porch light was on as usual and his car was parked in its customary spot in the driveway. A string of solid red lights draped forlornly across the front of the house brought little Christmas cheer and even less additional light. While the living room drapes were closed, Alex could hear the sounds of a television inside.
Holding Liz’s hand and pointing out the cracked brick in the walkway, Alex knocked on the door, waited and knocked again. Beside him, teeth chattering, Liz rang the bell. It was cold enough that their condensed breath formed halos around their heads.
“He’s in there,” Alex said, knocking again.
“Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to us,” Liz said.
“Tough. Have you ever been inside his house?”
“A couple of months ago. I made him macaroni and cheese when he had a sinus infection. This door opens into his living room.”
After additional knocks brought no response, Alex tried the doorknob which twisted easily in his hand. They both peeked through a modest crack and saw the edge of an upholstered blue chair and a man’s legs and feet, the latter encased in brown socks. Several apparently empty beer cans littered the floor.
Alex called out, “Harry? You in there? Can we come in and talk to you?”
There was no answer, nor did the feet stir.
Alex pushed the door the rest of the way open.
“Do you think we should do this?” Liz whispered.
“Absolutely. If Harry drank himself into a stupor, he might need help. Trust me, I have a lot of experience with this. My dad passed out almost every night.”
In the flickering blue light of the television, they found Harry Idle sitting in his chair, eyes closed, chin touching his barrel chest, one hand wrapped around a beer can. He was wearing a dingy gray sweater and black jeans, a striped blue-and-green knitted afghan thrown haphazardly across his lap as though he’d settled down for a night of drinking and TV. Alex immediately crossed the room, stepping over and around the cans, bending down next to the chair as Liz switched on a light and turned off the television.
The memories this scenario brought back to Alex were all sharp and unpleasant. “Harry?” he said, touching the older man’s shoulder. Harry slumped even further.
Liz was suddenly beside him, awkwardly bending down and retrieving something from the floor beside the chair. “It’s a prescription bottle,” she said breathlessly. “For a sedative. Alex, it’s empty.”
And suddenly it was clear to Alex that this wasn’t a case of drunkenness but something far worse. He swept his finger through Harry’s mouth, checking for an obstruction in his airway. Lowering his head, Alex felt the slightest exhalation against his cheek. He checked Harry’s wrist for a pulse and when that wasn’t satisfactory, put two fingers against his neck. The pulse was there but reedy at best.
“Call for an ambulance, tell them possible drug overdose,” he said as he gently pulled Harry onto the floor. “Read them the information off the prescription bottle,” he added, as he tilted Harry’s chin back and began ventilating. His only concern was to keep Harry Idle breathing until the experts arrived.
He was barely aware of Liz dialing 9-1-1.
AS LIZ DRESSED for the mall staff Christmas party, she heard Alex on the phone with the hospital, trying to get additional news on Harry’s condition. Judging from his end of the conversation, he wasn’t meeting with much success.
She’d bought her dress over the Internet and until this moment, had never actually tried it on. Looking in the mirror, she found that it fit all right, but that the midnight-blue color was much darker than it had appeared on the computer monitor. In addition, she thought as she tugged at the long sleeves, the velvet material was heavy and cloying. She pulled up on the neckline, rather startled by the new swelling fullness of her breasts.
Alex and she had spent the night before in the same bed, but once again, he’d not undressed or gotten under the covers. She felt safe with him so close—safe and frustrated. The day-to-day tension between them was lessening, but at night, lying in the dark and hearing him breathe, feeling the weight of his body on the blankets next to her, being so close and yet so far away, the tension built to the point where she found sleeping damn near impossible. She wanted him to go back to the futon mattress and stop taunting her with what she knew she shouldn’t have; on the other hand, she didn’t want him to move an inch farther away.
He gave her room to dress in privacy, he barely touched her, yet he was kind and attentive. Was it finding poor Harry on death’s doorstep that had distracted him or was it something deeper and more terrible? Had they really grown so far apart? When and if they finally figured out what was going on, would they have a marriage to salvage?
She applied lipstick and turned as Alex entered the room. Somehow he’d managed to put more color on his face in a few days of foggy, rainy freedom than she had during the entire week of their tropical honeymoon. The dashing tuxedo she’d bought him last Christmas and which fit
him now better than ever, didn’t hurt his swashbuckling dark good looks, either.
He looked like James Bond.
She looked like Miss Moneypenny’s washed-out kid sister. Correction, pregnant kid sister.
“You look stunning,” Alex said as he stroked her hand. She waited for him to pull her into his arms, but he didn’t. “I’ve always heard that pregnant women glow but I never believed it before tonight. Your face is radiant.”
As always, he managed to infuse his voice with sincerity. The man was amazing. Or nearsighted.
She said, “What did the hospital say about Harry?”
“Not much,” he told her. He moved to his bureau and snapped on his watch. “Same as this morning,” he added. “Harry’s in a drug-induced coma, except now they report that his daughter is at the hospital with him.”
“I’m glad his daughter came.”
“So am I. She can keep an eye on Harry.”
“What do you mean, keep an eye on Harry?”
He moved back beside her. “I mean that maybe Harry had a little help taking those pills.”
“I looked for a suicide note last night.”
“So did I, after the paramedics came and took over. But the sheriff’s car was there this morning. There’s little chance now that there’ll be any proof left to find.”
Liz frowned. “Why would the sheriff—”
“Because maybe Sheriff Roger Kapp is the figure Harry swore he saw. Maybe he was still in the shadows and heard Harry tell you and Ron Boxer all about it. Maybe Kapp was afraid Harry would recall more as time went by.” He ran a hand through his hair and added, “I guess I’m going to have to bite the bullet and talk to the sheriff.”
“Do you want me to—”
“No way. I’ll go see him.”
“If there’s any question that Harry didn’t swallow those pills on his own, the sheriff will find a way to blame you whether or not he’s the one who did it. You know that, don’t you?”
“And he’ll have Ron Boxer to testify that I was mad enough to do it, too.”
“But you never left my side,” Liz said as she tried to fasten a small diamond solitaire.
Alex took the chain from her. As he secured it, his hands grazed the back of her neck and their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror.
There’s love between us, she found herself thinking. Deep, abiding love. The only question is whether or not it will be enough.
He seemed to read her mind, for he lowered his head and kissed the nape of her neck and she closed her eyes.
“Let’s go,” he whispered, his breath tickling her skin, sending shivers, causing all sorts of trouble within her.
She opened her eyes and nodded.
AN HOUR LATER, they pulled up under the awning in front of the Egret Inn. Built to overlook the bay, the structure was as glistening white and as ethereal-looking as its namesake, many of whom nested in the tall trees nearby.
Alex had to more or less pull her from her car and as Liz let him grab hold of her arm and yank, she realized the low-riding sports car would have to go. It was one thing for her to need the jaws of life to get out of the thing; it wouldn’t be long before she’d need a vehicle with a back seat big enough to hold a baby car seat and a trunk large enough to carry a stroller and heaven knew what else.
The valet parking attendant whizzed away in her car as Alex opened the tall etched glass door and ushered her inside. He took her coat and gave it to an attendant. Squeezing her hand, he said, “I’ll take care of everything, honey, you just do your normal stuff and I’ll skulk around in the shadows asking probing questions, okay?”
She knew he intended to lighten the mood with playful talk, but there were edges of truth in what he said that made her too nervous to appreciate his efforts. She usually enjoyed these parties, but this was the first time since her uncle died that she’d attended one and never before as the host.
“Try not to worry,” he said.
“That’s a tall order to fill, Alex. Everything seems to be falling apart around us. If Harry tried to kill himself, does that mean he regretted trying to hurt me or killing my uncle or was he just depressed because the winter TV schedule is so lousy?”
“We don’t know for sure what happened to Harry. Maybe he got drunk and took the last couple of sleeping pills without realizing what he was doing. Without access to his toxicology reports, we’re in the dark.”
“So what do we do?”
“I’ll go to the hospital and talk to the sheriff or maybe Harry’s daughter, but for tonight, we proceed as planned.”
“Which means while you’re trying to find motive and opportunity to prove one of my employees murdered my uncle, I’m supposed to hand out Christmas bonuses.” She realized she was whining as she added, “I hate doing this in such a public way. I think they should be sent via the mail or given out at work.”
“So why do it this way?” Alex asked.
Liz frowned for a second. “It’s always been done this way.”
“Because your uncle liked lording his power over everyone else. You don’t feel comfortable with that.”
She smiled. “You’re right, I don’t. Okay, next year if I’m still in charge, I’ll do it my way.”
“Good enough.”
They entered the designated room which momentarily brought a sense of peace to Liz’s overburdened mind and heart. The golden paneling highlighted the centerpiece, three large trees of staggered heights, each decked out with pure yellow lights and white birds, the snowy-looking ground around their trunks twinkling with glittering pine cones. Several round tables circled the trees and the white china, gold tableware and crystal goblets shimmered and sparkled.
“It looks beautiful,” Liz said.
“Very classy,” Alex agreed, then frowned and whispered, “Head’s up, three o’clock.”
Liz smiled at the use of their old code for approaching disaster, and turned to the three o’clock position in time to see Emily headed their way.
“Be nice,” she whispered out the side of her mouth.
Alex leaned down and nuzzled her ear. “I’m always nice,” he said with a nibble.
ALEX TOOK one last deep breath of Liz’s heavenly scent, and raised his head. Surprise, surprise, Emily scowled at him.
Liz put a little distance between herself and him which annoyed the hell out of him. She was acting a little odd tonight which he thought perfectly understandable given the circumstances—Harry’s condition and the fact that they’d found him, the uncomfortable position of “boss lady” she’d had to assume—but he was determined to stick to their agenda and question the people around him. People who had worked closely with Devon Hiller, people who might have grown to resent and hate him enough to kill him.
His resolve was strengthened by his desire to avoid talking to Emily. Alex didn’t know for sure why Emily was so protective of Liz but he suspected it was for one of two reasons. The first was relatively easy to take: Emily wasn’t convinced that Alex wasn’t a murderer pulling a fast con on his guileless wife. Hence, she felt protective and would back down once she accepted the fact he was innocent.
The second was harder: Emily wanted Liz as a sister-in-law. If he didn’t figure out this mess and save his own skin, it seemed possible that sooner or later, Emily would get her wish. Not right away, but someday. How could he blame his beautiful wife for wanting someone with whom to share her life? She knew Ron, she liked him. How could he deny her a contented and happy future?
How could he stand living if it ever happened? How could he bear another man, any other man, making love to his wife, fathering his child? He’d rather be dead.
Liz and Emily hugged and Emily spared him a quick smile with all the brilliance of a thoroughly doused fire. Turning to Liz, her voice scolding, she said, “I can’t believe you went down those beach stairs. That’s so dangerous. You must be more careful. Promise me if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll call Ron and not strike out on your own. You
can depend on him.”
Alex had the urge to punch Emily in the mouth. Honestly, his desire to pummel everyone he met was getting out of hand. He met Liz’s gaze and recognized a pleading look that asked him to be tolerant, so he tried a different approach.
“That’s a stunning necklace you’re wearing, Emily.” What woman didn’t like a compliment? It was the truth, too. From a thick gold chain hung an enameled gold pendant of a prancing horse with pearls dangling from hoofs, tail and jeweled saddle. It looked museum quality and truly striking against Emily’s green dress. With a sideways glance at Liz, Emily tucked it beneath her neckline.
So much for conciliation.
Liz said, “I was at the mall yesterday, Em. You weren’t in your store.”
“I went out to do some shopping,” Emily said, more or less turning her back on Alex. Her rudeness brought out a stubborn streak in Alex and he resolved to stay by Liz’s side until Emily wandered away.
Liz turned so that Alex was once again included in the group. She said, “Were you buying your dress? It looks new. It’s lovely.”
“Do you like it? Green is my favorite color, but this shade is never easy to find. I had to go to Myers Junction to that little boutique.”
“Which one?”
Emily bit her bottom lip and shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s very becoming but I thought I saw something like it in a window close to your own store,” Liz added, frowning.
“Oh, yeah.” Emily lowered her voice but Alex caught her next words. “I don’t much care for Alicia O’Donnell. She’s a snob. I don’t like to shop in her store.”
Liz nodded and Alex realized he wasn’t the only person Emily didn’t approve of.
Meanwhile, Liz seemed determined to sleuth. “I saw Marie Poe and Doris Landers when I went into their store to buy a machine that purees baby food. I won’t need it for several months, but I thought I’d like to have it on hand. Anyway, Marie told me that she saw you at my uncle’s party. She said that you were in his den, by the curio case. I didn’t know you had attended.”
