by Jaime Maddox
Holding her with her eyes, Ella nodded. She was sure Reese was lying, or at least smudging the truth, but she wouldn’t push. What right did she have? She’d only just met Reese, and if she didn’t want to talk about Steph, Ella wouldn’t push. “I can understand that.”
Working together, they had the picnic cleaned up in just a few minutes. Reese found dessert plates and a large cake knife and carried them outside.
“Do you want to join them at the park?” Reese asked.
Even if Reese was lying, Ella really was tired. She’d put in sixty hours at the office that week, and the vodka wasn’t helping her energy level. “I’d be happy to sit and talk.”
They traded the picnic table for padded deck chairs, and Reese poured them both another drink before she settled in. “Have you heard from Pip?” she asked.
“Actually, I have, and she doesn’t seem happy. She says Miles Jones is kind of strange. She’s staying in his guest house, and they’re both working all the time, so she doesn’t see him much, but when she does, he creeps her out.”
Shaking her head, she remembered the young man who’d grown up in Scranton and ran away to Hollywood, never to return. “He was always a strange dude,” Reese said and sipped her drink.
“You know him, too?” When Reese nodded, Ella shook her head. “Is there anyone in town you don’t know?”
“Probably a few people, but not many. Don’t forget, I’ve lived here all my life, and went to college here, too.”
“Did you go to school with Miles?”
“Yeah.” Reese was used to questions about Miles. He’d been very successful in Hollywood, first as an actor, and then as a producer. At interviews, he often mentioned his “humble” beginning. As if being the heir to a mining fortune was humble! But she knew his success was due more to his good looks and hard work than his family money.
“What’s he like?”
Laughing, Reese shook her head. “I haven’t seen him in twenty years. As far as I know, he doesn’t come back here. His parents are dead, and I don’t think he has much family.”
“What was he like then?”
Ella’s reaction to the inside information on a huge Hollywood start was pretty typical. She sat forward a little, listening to every word. Sometimes it bothered her that people probed the way they did into Miles’s private life—there was even a Miles Jones tour in the visitor guide. You could visit the home where he was raised, the open-air theatre in the park he’d donated to the city, the graves of his ancestors. Reese thought it absurd, yet the business seemed to flourish. And while other people’s questions might have annoyed her, Ella’s didn’t. She enjoyed talking to Ella. It was becoming clear that her mom and Cass had been right. Ella was someone special.
Clearing her throat, she answered the question. “Unique. He wore clothes that would make your head spin—period clothes, punk, leather, tuxedos, short-shorts. His hair was many colors, different lengths. Sometimes he wore wigs or long beards. His parents were members of the country club, and he was a great golfer, but he was always getting tossed off the course for improper clothing. He was always trying to turn heads. His family was loaded, and he never let anyone forget it. He lavished people with gifts—I mean out of nowhere, unexpected things. One day in college he rented a bus and took everyone who could fit in to New York, bought everyone tickets to see a Broadway show, and then bought everyone dinner. I don’t know about you, but in college I didn’t have much money to throw around. Miles rained money. He threw catered parties, always with some theme or another, put together spectacular theatrical productions, ran charity concerts to raise money. Yet he always seemed lonely, like he didn’t let anyone really close. He was surrounded by people, but he didn’t fit in with them. Even the theater crowd, who he worked with every day.”
“His movies are different, that’s for sure.”
“He’s like a blond Johnny Depp. At least his movies are similar.”
“Maybe I’m just not smart enough to understand his message.”
Reese chortled. “I can sum it up for you. It’s okay to be different. Very different.”
After a pleasant pause, Reese broke the silence. “So tell me about you, Ella. Other than the obvious.”
“What’s obvious?”
“You live over there,” she said, nodding toward Pip’s house. “And you work at PMU.”
“I drive a convertible.”
“Obviously.”
“Is that too obvious?”
Reese squinted. “Obviously.”
Ella smiled at the pleasant banter they were enjoying, and was happy in the reality that she’d made a friend. “I like to bake.”
Reese nodded toward the cake. “I’m going to have to give you another drink so you’ll loosen up.”
“Trust me. If you give me another drink, I’ll be unconscious.”
“But will you talk?”
“You think I’ll talk in my sleep?”
“I think I’d like to find out.”
Ella felt her mouth open as she watched Reese blush. “I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.”
Realizing she could have a lot of fun teasing Reese and find out exactly what she wanted to know, Ella didn’t let her off the hook. “Do you make a habit of spying on women while they sleep?”
Shifting in her chair, Reese studied her glass for a moment, as if the answer was hidden in the melting cubes of ice. She seemed to wrestle with a smile before managing to keep her expression neutral. “Well, I’d rather watch women than men, but sadly, I don’t have the chance to do it often.”
Bingo! Ella thought as she fought the desire to raise her arms in triumph.
“That’s hard to imagine,” Ella said after a moment. She might have been flirting, but in reality, she was only stating the obvious. Reese was a successful, attractive woman, with a wonderful sense of humor. She was kind. She was sweet. What more could anyone want?
“Thanks.”
It was time to change the subject. “Golf.”
“What?”
“I like to play golf. I’ve been hitting balls, getting ready for the PMU tournament next week.”
Once again, Ella surprised her, and Reese didn’t know why. The golf tournament was a fund-raiser; of course Ella would be there. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “What a coincidence. I’m on the tournament committee.”
“Get out! It’ll be a blast! I’ve never played the course, though. I hear it’s a beast.”
“Not if you hit the ball perfectly straight and can land your irons on the green with enough backspin that they don’t end up in a trap.”
“Yeah. Not me.”
“Me neither, but that’s why we play captain and crew.”
“Who’s on your team?”
“Colleagues from the hospital. How about yours?”
“Development people.”
Reese would have loved to ask more, but Bijou’s bark signaled her family’s return. She fought her disappointment. It would have been nice to talk to Ella all night. Her dad demanded cake, though, and Ella served it as Cass complained about the brevity of their walk. The sky was already turning the colors of sunset, though, and it would be dark soon. “You don’t want to get lost in the dark, do you?” she asked.
Waving her hand dismissively, Cass quieted Reese. “Bijou can find his way home in the dark. And that’s why I have a flashlight.”
Laughter erupted from the table. “It’s hard to argue with that logic,” Reese said.
Ella smiled at her, floated in the pools of her eyes, warmed by the obvious love she saw there. Reese held her gaze for a moment before turning her head, and Ella couldn’t help but feel a little lost when Reese looked away.
Chapter 10: Suspicious Minds
He turned the postcard over and over in his hand, studying it. It had arrived in the mail the day before, and he’d been playing with it since, wondering what to do next. Did he have to do anything? The announcement of his reunion at Pocono Mountains University should have
brought him some happiness, but it only reminded him of the trouble all around him. Everyone he talked to these days spoke of one thing and one thing only—the Stephanie Gates case.
A reliable source told him the authorities had no new evidence to implicate her killer, but they did have a new lead. With a little push from Steph’s mom, the investigators had changed their focus and were now strongly considering the possibility that a random burglar hadn’t killed Steph, but someone she knew. Back then, everyone was questioned, but it was just a formality. From the outset they’d fallen for the drama he’d staged, convinced a burglar had done the deed. The police had gone through the motions, asking friends about enemies, talking to teachers and teammates, quizzing every romantic interest she’d ever had—including him.
In the end, their questions had led nowhere, because they really had no proof of anything. No one knew anything, no one saw anything, no one found anything. No one even suspected anything. The theory about the burglar won out, because it seemed more probable than one of Steph’s classmates turning on her in a rabid moment.
Now that they were reconsidering their stance, the police would come calling again. As one of her classmates, he’d surely be interviewed. And of course, he knew what he’d say. The same thing he’d said then. Practically nothing. He’d dated Steph off and on but knew her mainly because of their common academic and extracurricular pursuits at PMP. He didn’t know anyone who’d want to hurt her. He couldn’t imagine a motive for killing her. He had an alibi.
He was safe, right? The police hadn’t given him a second thought then, had only questioned him because they’d questioned everyone who might know something—and with the paucity of information, that meant everyone. They had absolutely no reason to suspect him now.
So why did he feel this anxiety, this irritating inability to focus on anything but the most basic task? Why did he feel vulnerable?
The obvious answer was, of course, that he’d killed her. He was the only one on the planet with a reason to feel nervous, because he was guilty.
Or did someone else have a reason for concern as well?
In the years after the murder, time and again he’d asked himself the same question. Why? Why had Steph done that to him? Before he killed her, she’d said she’d explain it one day. Why couldn’t she explain it then? What was so difficult that she couldn’t talk about it?
It made no sense, no matter how he tried to understand it, until one year at Christmas, when Reese had gathered them all at her house for a little party. The attendees were mostly from Prep, with a few other friends she’d met at PMU. She was on break from med school, and the rest of them still lived in the area or were home for the holidays as well.
Reese, always somewhat reserved, was obviously very nervous. He knew something was going on but had no idea what until she brought them all together in the living room at her parents’ house and told them all she was gay.
Some of their friends said they’d always known it, some suspected it, and some—like him—were flabbergasted. He supposed he’d just never thought about Reese’s sexuality, but when he did, all the clues were there. Reese never dated. She had many friends who were boys, but no boyfriends. And in their senior year at Prep, when his relationship with Steph was crumbling, it seemed that Reese and Steph grew closer and closer.
Ignoring the crowd at Reese’s house that night, he drifted back to high school. All the nights Reese had slept over at Steph’s house. Even when she had a ride back from the lake, Reese would find an excuse to spend the night. He’d always thought they were just good friends. The student council trip to Washington, when they could have switched rooms without the chaperones knowing, Steph had elected to stay put, holed up in the hotel room alone with Reese. She’d told him she didn’t want to get into any trouble, but he knew now it was more than that. Steph wanted to be with Reese. And on their senior trip to Florida, it was the same situation. Many of the kids had elected to bunk four to a room, to save money. He’d only booked one roommate, because he knew Steph and Reese were staying together. Instead of the romantic time he’d envisioned when they switched rooms, he’d spent most of the trip looking for Steph because she kept disappearing with Reese.
Until Reese came out to him, he’d thought of her as a good friend to both him and Steph. At that moment he realized she wasn’t a friend at all. She’d been Steph’s lover. She was the reason Steph hurt him.
In the years that had passed since then, he’d never said a word to Reese about what he knew. What would have been the point? It would certainly have strained their relationship, and it might have even made him look suspicious in Reese’s eyes, because why would he really care about Steph’s sexuality? But now that the police were looking into the murder again, he might say something to them about Reese and Steph. Wasn’t the significant other always the first suspect?
He needed to consider something else, too. The loose end. What exactly did Cass Ryan remember about that night? He’d always played it cool around her, just in case she understood that the night he showed up at Nay Aug Park and borrowed two bucks was the same night Steph had been murdered. They’d never talked about it, so he didn’t know for sure what she knew. Maybe it was time to find out.
Chapter 11: The Scholarship
“There’s a Sophie Gates on the line for you.”
Reflexively, Ella looked at the intercom through which her assistant’s voice had just projected and smiled. “Thanks, Carm,” she said as she picked up the line. “Hello, Mrs. Gates.”
“Hello to you. How are you settling in? How’s the new job?”
“It’s all good.”
“Would you happen to be free for dinner tonight? I have to run into Scranton to meet with my attorney this afternoon, and I thought it would be nice to go out.”
Ella had no plans for the night. It had been raining all afternoon and the forecast was the same for the evening, so golf was out of the question. After she walked Bijou—probably a short walk because of the weather—she’d settle in with some work or perhaps watch television. Nothing that couldn’t be put off in favor of a better offer. And having dinner with Sophie was definitely a better offer. Although their last meeting had been emotional, she had no doubt she wanted to see her again. It was the least she could do to honor the memory of her old friend and of her grandmother, who’d been a friend to Sophie. “I’d love to.”
They set the time, and Ella settled back into her desk chair and then finally decided to call it a day. It was early, but that was okay. If she punched a clock, she’d have overtime on the books every week.
Bijou was thrilled to see her, and Ella made sure the gates were locked before she headed into the house to change. There was a temporary break in the storm, and the sun peeked through the clouds a few minutes later when she came back outside to find him chasing a frog through the garden. She hesitated only a moment before opening the gate to the Ryans’ yard in search of Cass. She didn’t have much time before her dinner with Mrs. Gates, but knowing how much Cass loved walking the dog, it was an easy decision.
Cass was excited to see them both, and after asking her mom’s permission, she joined Ella and Bijou. Ella was relieved that Sharon didn’t come along. She wanted to know more about Reese, and Cass was the perfect one to tell her.
“How was your day?” she asked Cass.
“Boring.”
Ella laughed. “Why was it boring?”
“Nothing happened.”
“I guess that’s how it is sometimes on rainy days.” She paused for a minute. “How’s Reese?”
“Good.”
Okay. That was easy. “Where does Reese live?”
“In her house.”
Ella laughed, but she realized Cass was serious. “What’s her house like?”
“I like it because she has stools to sit on. And she lets me eat by the TV. And sometimes deer come in her yard and I can see them.”
Ella gathered from the information that Reese didn’t live in the city,
but considering the mountains surrounding them on all sides, Cass’s description didn’t narrow the location down. “Does she live in Scranton?”
Cass pursed her lips in thought, and then suddenly her face lit up. “She lives by Lake Scranton. But you still have to drive in the car if you want to go to her house.”
Ella bit her lip. What had she expected? Perhaps she should treasure her career in development, because her chances as a detective weren’t looking good.
The rest of their walk was uneventful, and after returning home, she gave Bijou his dinner and hurried up the stairs to change. Mrs. Gates had told her the State Street Grill in Clarks Summit was casual, so she pulled on a lightweight sweater, jeans, and loafers, then covered her shoulders with a blazer before heading out. It was an easy, fifteen-minute drive, and she found her date waiting at their table.
After hugging Mrs. Gates, Ella threw her blazer over the back of an empty chair and sat beside her. Looking around, she decided she liked the place. The bar at one end of the room seemed well stocked, and cocktail tables all around were filled. Mrs. Gates had claimed a cozy table for two in the corner, and from there Ella saw all varieties of people coming and going. There were no kids, but the age of the patrons ranged from twenty-something to seventy-something. A glance at the eclectic menu told Ella her first impression was spot-on, and if the food was any good, she knew she’d be visiting the restaurant again.
“So, what’s new? How’s the investigation going?”
Sophie’s eyes brightened. “Finally, they’re listening to me. After Bucky brought Steph back into the limelight, some detectives came and talked to me again about that night. I told them my theory, explained how Steph would never have let a stranger in, and they thought it made sense. They’re questioning everyone again. Her classmates, her teammates, people from the print shop. Everyone.”
“Did Steph have a boyfriend?” If Ella had to guess, she would have thought Steph was gay. Not that she’d known about such matters at the age of twelve, but when she looked back on it all later, she understood that Steph was her first crush. And it seemed to be a mutual feeling, although who really knew? They never had the chance to explore it.
