by Alice Sharpe
Emily rolled her eyes and said, “I didn’t. I hadn’t even moved to town yet. What would I be doing at your uncle’s party?”
“I thought maybe you came with Ron.”
“Marie told me this same story when we met for the first time at a store manager’s meeting. I told her then she was mistaken, but Marie is a space cadet, if you know what I mean. It’s a good thing she teamed up with Doris. I can’t imagine Marie is capable of running anything but her mouth.”
Liz didn’t say a word. If this was typical Emily, Alex thought to himself, she couldn’t have many friends. She seemed to be a bitter woman with a nasty streak and a third reason for her distrust of him came to mind—she was jealous of Liz’s shifting alliance from Emily back to himself. Liz was the kindest woman Alex had ever known—it was her most outstanding trait as far as he was concerned. No doubt she had put up with Emily’s snide comments out of compassion and now Emily was terrified to lose her one friend in this town.
Could Emily have orchestrated the events at their house to sway Liz away from him? Might the incidents that occurred after he came home be unrelated to Devon Hiller’s murder? Did Emily hate him enough to somehow rig the stairs so that he would fall and then be appalled to discover that it was Liz who had come close to dying and not him?
He eyed her with this in mind and thought it possible. The woman was young and healthy and though she didn’t look particularly athletic, she didn’t look weak and incapable, either. It was a little bit of a stretch to imagine her using Sinbad as bait, but no more so than imagining Harry Idle concocting a plot of evildoing that required actual exertion or Sheriff Kapp framing Liz for murder.
So many unknowns.
As the mall maintenance superintendent sidled up to Liz, and Emily turned her attention to another couple, Alex started making his rounds. It was awkward, to say the least, as everyone there knew exactly who he was and of what he’d been accused. Okay, and to what he’d confessed. He persevered but discovered only that Devon Hiller had had few wholehearted admirers and that Liz was well liked. Neither revelation came as much of a surprise.
During a splendid sit-down seafood dinner, he asked still more questions of the man and woman on either side of him. She was someone new on the staff, excited about her job in advertising. Her husband worked out of town and wasn’t much of a talker. Neither of them had a single interesting insight when it came to the death of Devon Hiller. Giving up on sleuthing, he cast longing looks at his gorgeous wife who sat at another table, surrounded by people who seemed to hang on her every word. It suddenly dawned on Alex that Liz would soon become a very wealthy and powerful woman, attracting people impressed by such things.
Better they should be impressed by her generous spirit.
Ron approached him right after Liz had distributed the Christmas bonus checks. He held the long envelope in one hand. “This will come in handy,” he said with a smile. “Your wife is more generous than her uncle.”
“Yes, she is,” Alex agreed.
“Not that I wouldn’t like to be in the position of never having to worry about another nickel,” Ron added. “A life of leisure would give me more time to pursue my hobbies.”
Alex nodded, but couldn’t really empathize. These months of professional inactivity where he’d been downright ostracized by the fire department had been terrible for him. Liz had enough money to keep them both comfortable, but that wasn’t the point. He missed getting a paycheck with his name on it, missed going to work, missed his cohorts and the work they did together. He would gladly trade this party and tuxedo for a three alarm fire and his turnouts.
To Ron, he replied politely, “I guess I don’t know what your hobbies are.”
“Well, I know you’re quite the sportsman,” Ron said. “Liz talks about how you hike and climb and play ball. Me, I like biking. Races sometimes, but mostly just touring. It’s great to be out on the road. Sometimes I go south past Myers Junction, down to Fern Glen. Lots of antique shops down that way which happens to be my second passion. It’s a pricey hobby, though, so I mostly look and dream.”
“You’re a real renaissance man.”
Ron nodded in Liz’s direction. “That’s what your wife says, too.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Listen, how is she really doing?”
Alex stifled a wave of jealousy. He’d expected the conversation to drift to Liz but that didn’t mean he liked it. He said, “She’s doing well.”
“Not too upset about last night?”
“You mean Harry Idle attacking her?” When Ron nodded, Alex realized that he didn’t know about Harry’s destiny with a stomach pump. Alex added, “No, she’s fine. Thanks, by the way, for rescuing us both.”
Ron waved away the thanks as he tucked the bonus envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just glad I could help. Say, I’d like to talk to you about something,” he added.
Alex steeled himself for some kind of intimate discussion concerning Liz. He said, “Sure.”
“It’s about Emily,” Ron said, staring down at his shoes.
While Alex didn’t want to talk about Liz, he wanted to talk about Emily even less. Swallowing a sigh, he said, “What’s up?”
“My sister is, well, she’s gotten it into her head that I’m interested in Liz. Romantically, that is.” Ron looked up, seemingly stuck for words. Suddenly attentive, Alex waited for Ron to continue.
“I admit, I do find your wife extremely appealing. What man wouldn’t? And for a time there, I thought that she and I might, well, you know. I’m aware that Emily encouraged Liz to file for divorce. I want you to know I didn’t know Emily had a thing to do with that until just recently. I gather Liz and you are reconciled.”
Alex managed a nod. Liz had never said a word to him about Emily’s involvement with her decision to seek a divorce. Confused and feeling oddly betrayed, he muttered, “We aren’t worrying about this right now. There are other, larger, concerns.”
“No kidding,” Ron said. “I’ll try to get Emily to cool it a little. She gets a bee in her bonnet and there’s no stopping her.” Ron laughed, and added, “There’s a phrase I haven’t heard since my mother died. I bet I’ve never actually used it before. Wonder where it came from.”
“Just imagine how agitated but determined to do something about it you would be if there was a bee trapped in your hat,” Alex said. He forced a smile. He’d been under the impression that Liz was oblivious to Emily’s fantasies concerning Ron. If Liz knew all about it, did that mean she had been or might even still be interested in Ron?
His head said, No way.
But she’d cried when she kissed him.
His heart didn’t know what to say.
And what about Ron? Was he putting out feelers, trying to discern if Liz might be available sometime soon? Was he in love with her or with her coming wealth? Why was he telling Alex all this, putting his sister in a bad light, admitting that if things were different, he’d pursue Liz? Could Ron be behind the murder and the last few days of trouble for some mysterious reason?
Alex felt as though he was beginning to see kitty kickers and assassins behind every tree. He glanced down at Ron’s hands. Deciding to try the direct approach, he said, “Your hands aren’t as big as mine.”
Ron wrinkled his brow and glanced at his hands, then at Alex’s hands. “I guess,” he said, clearly stumped by what this had to do with anything.
Alex sighed to himself. Nothing, that’s what.
And following on the heels of that discouragement came a newfound determination. Christmas was coming. He was tired of feeling bleak, his baby was due in less than three weeks. He needed real information. He needed to know more about Ron Boxer and everyone else who had attended that party. He needed to know what—or who—had pushed Harry Idle over the edge; he needed to understand the nature of Sheriff Kapp’s blackmail scheme and how it may have backfired into murder; he needed to see Devon Hiller’s house again, his den, retrieve Liz’s scarf, try to find a clue there that he and the
sheriff had both missed or that the sheriff had inadvertently left when—and if—he set the stage to frame Liz.
And, too, there was the issue of the upcoming retrial. His lawyer had left messages; he wanted an appointment to discuss “strategy.”
What strategy? Lacking positive proof to clear himself without implicating Liz, there could be no strategy.
There was a lot to do, there wasn’t a lot of time.
Chapter Ten
While Alex went to the hospital to try to talk to Harry or his daughter, Liz flicked on the computer. He’d checked all the locks before he went and made her promise not to leave the house alone. It promised to be a very long day following a very long night.
Alex had been restless when they got home, pacing the hall long after she fell into bed. He’d been up before her this morning, out working on the fence with a vengeance, as though he thought he might have to leave it for good at any moment. It scared her to see him so focused, so determined, as though he was worried that time was running out.
After breakfast, he’d announced they were stepping up the pace and that included researching the backgrounds of everyone remotely connected to Devon Hiller. She’d had to point out they didn’t have the time or resources for all that.
In the end, they’d agreed to concentrate on people who had worked for Devon Hiller as mall staff employees and on those who held leases for the smaller, more personal stores; those employed by her uncle for private services such as housecleaning and grounds maintenance; the sheriff; Harry Idle and his daughter. As she had easy access to the employment records from the mall, that’s where she started. Though her main interest was in ruling out Ron and Emily, she made herself start alphabetically.
Ron’s name came up third, and she reviewed the facts. He’d been born in the San Francisco Bay area, just as he’d told her. He’d attended college there and held several jobs before moving to Ocean Bluff and coming to work for Harbor Lights Mall eighteen months before, citing personal reasons for the relocation, which Liz knew meant his mother’s death. If there was anything wrong with his employment record it was simply that he’d held so many jobs which sometimes indicated a person who had difficulty getting along with fellow workers. She could remember asking him about it and believing him when he told her that during his mother’s protracted illness, he’d lost jobs due to taking time off. As his mother was no longer alive, he was anxious to settle down.
He was a conscientious employee whom everyone seemed to like and a dependable friend, so she’d never second-guessed her decision to hire him.
By the time Liz reached Emily Watts’s name, she was getting blurry eyed and worried about what was taking Alex so long at the hospital. She gave Emily’s forms a quick glance, stopping only when it came to the background check that she’d never seen before. When Emily had moved to town and applied for a concession, Liz had been in the very pit of despair, her uncle newly dead, her husband refusing to see her, her own body rebelling at her pregnancy. She just hadn’t had much to do with mall business for a while and Jane Ridgeway and Ron had covered for her until she felt better.
Now she saw that Emily was only eighteen months older than her brother and had had a different last name as a child. Apparently, Ron and Emily were half sister and brother. They’d never mentioned this fact, but why should they?
Another notation was more worrisome. Emily had a police record.
Emily?
There was no explanation of what the record was for. It might be those parking tickets she and Alex had joked about, but it might be something worse, as well. It was odd that there wasn’t additional information, but perhaps Ron had shielded his sister from scrutiny by being honest but not thorough. Liz had a hard time thinking it was for anything serious.
And then she thought of the way Emily had reacted to the knowledge that the sheriff was nearby. Liz realized she’d have to dig further.
She was reading all about Meg Miller, the woman who ran Miller’s Landscaping and was still caring for the Hiller estate, when she heard a key in the lock. She made it to the living room just as Alex came through the front door.
“How’s Harry?” she asked.
He took off his jacket and faced her with his hands in his jeans pockets. “The same,” he said, his voice as crisp as the outside temperature. “They wouldn’t let me see him. I did meet his daughter, Patty, though. She’s fresh out of rehab and seems straight, at least for the time being. She seemed very appreciative that you and I found him in time and passes along her thanks. Apparently, the sheriff hasn’t been around since she got there.”
Liz couldn’t help but say, “Good.”
“Not good,” he said, walking into the kitchen. She followed him. “I need to ask him about Harry. I need to know for sure if he tried to commit suicide. I stopped by the station, but he wasn’t there, either.”
“I guess the man has a private life. It is the weekend, you know.”
“I guess it is,” he said, opening cupboard after cupboard. He apparently didn’t find what he was looking for. As he peered into the refrigerator, he said, “Listen, when you picked up that prescription bottle, did you happen to notice the date on which it was filled? If it was recent, that would give us an indication of how many pills he took.”
“I didn’t think to look,” she said.
“I know some of the paramedics,” he said. “Even though they might not talk to me, they might talk to Dave. Meanwhile, what did you find out about our erstwhile sheriff? Can you access your uncle’s files from your computer? We need to know what Roger Kapp had on your uncle.”
“I haven’t gotten around to that yet. I did the mall first and am just now starting in on private individuals. I’ll get into Uncle Devon’s files next.”
“Great.” He closed the refrigerator and, hitching his hands on his waist, looked around the small room as though expecting a new cupboard full of yummy tidbits to appear. With a sigh, he added, “Well, what did you find out about everyone else? Anything interesting?”
Much as she hated to, given his continuing negative relationship with Emily, she admitted she’d discovered evidence of some kind of criminal record in Emily’s background check.
“Fantastic!” he said. “Cross your fingers they got her for animal cruelty or tampering with beach stairs.”
Liz picked up her coat from the back of the chair where she’d left it the night before. Unable to stand the thought of facing the computer again, she said, “I’ll treat you to lunch at the fish and chips place, then how about we go see Emily and ask her?”
He straightened slowly. “You mean actually go to Emily’s house?”
“Yes. I know she doesn’t go into the store on Sundays.”
“But her house? I don’t know—”
“Chicken.”
He produced a half smile. “She doesn’t like me.”
“I know. Aren’t you curious why? Let’s ask her that, too.”
“Let’s not. I have several theories about it and frankly, I don’t think I want to know the truth.”
“Cluck, cluck, cluck,” Liz said.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her close, steadying her when she almost stumbled, both of them laughing. For a second, it was like old times as she smiled in anticipation of a kiss.
He did kiss her, but it was on the cheek and not the mouth. A new wave of anxiety attacked her, or perhaps more accurately, another wave of the same old thing. Since she’d given him the impression she was ready to resume a sexual relationship and he’d pulled away, he’d been kind of distant. He looked deep into her eyes now and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, didn’t have a clue if he found her desirable or not.
It was one thing, she thought, to be cautious yourself. It was another thing entirely to have someone you care about treat you with the same wariness.
“Emily wants you as a sister-in-law,” he said softly.
“That isn’t true—”
“Yes, it is. Last night Ron told me he found
out that Emily was the one who encouraged you to file for divorce.”
“I’m a grown-up,” Liz said, though she hadn’t realized Ron hadn’t known about Emily’s endorsement all along. She added, “Emily supported my decision, but Alex, it was my decision, not Emily’s.”
“I know—”
“Do you?” she interrupted, leaving the warmth of his embrace, backing up against the barrier that kept Sinbad from roaming on his pinned leg. The cat yowled in anticipation of additional attention or something to eat, but she didn’t even look at him. Instead, she stared hard into Alex’s blue eyes. “You still think I don’t have a speck of self-determination.”
“That’s not true.”
“I wanted to go forward with my life. I wanted to build a new future. Not Emily, not Ron, me. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
Returning her intense stare, he responded immediately. “Because it hurts,” he said before looking away.
She reached out for his hand and held it in hers, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. He had big, competent hands, hands that cradled her, hands that saved lives. “I know it hurts,” she said softly.
He turned back to her, and this time he kissed her lips.
LIZ HADN’T BEEN to Emily’s for a couple of weeks, since before Alex came home, a real departure from the months before where visits between their homes had been relatively common. Once again, Liz felt a pang of guilt for ignoring Emily, whose rude behavior toward Alex last night had driven even more of a wedge between the two women. She also felt guilty for the phone call she’d made from the fish and chips place, asking Emily if she could stop by but not mentioning the fact that Alex was with her.
Emily lived in a duplex butted tightly against Ron’s. The two residences were mirror images of each other, two stories high with kitchen, half bath and living area on the bottom, two bedrooms and a full bath upstairs. Ron used his spare room as a painting studio and Emily used hers for needlework projects. In the past, Liz had envied them their close relationship.
