by Curry, Edna
“Right,” Lacey said.
“So why did you climb it?”
She shrugged. “Because it was there?”
***
At her cabin, Mark insisted in coming in to make sure that everything was all right.
He turned on the lights, checking every room, while she stood in the living room, blushing in embarrassment, wondering if she had put away her discarded clothing earlier.
Whatever he thought, his face was unreadable as he came back downstairs. He picked up the phone and listened for its reassuring dial tone.
“Satisfied? Ben evidently found someone to fix the phone in spite of its being Sunday.” Her voice had an edge of impatience. He had his nerve, treating her like an incompetent child.
“Yes, I know. I just came back out here this afternoon while you were at Jerry and Elaine’s and did it myself. No point in arguing with the phone company. All you get is a recording telling you to call back during regular business hours,” he said wryly.
“But you didn’t have a key. How did you get in?”
“Oh, yes, I almost forgot.” He pulled a key from his pocket and held it out to her. “Ben gave me the one you gave him.”
Her anger disappeared. “Of course. Well, thank you,” she said, embarrassed that she had credited the wrong man for helping her.
“No problem. I enjoy fixing things. I’ll write my number here, just in case you need to call for any reason.” His eyes met hers searchingly as he wrote on the notepad beside the phone.
He turned to leave, then suddenly turned back, reached out and took her in his arms.
She responded at once, unable to stop all the pent-up awareness she had been feeling all day from leaping to the surface. She knew she had been hoping for this, half expecting it, all day. The warm comfort of his arms felt so right, so good. His dark head bent down to hers and their lips met.
At first his kiss was soft and gentle, then it became exploring and more demanding. She never wanted it to end. His hands, too, explored, sliding under her sweater to caress the bare skin of her midriff, caressing her gently, yet sending waves of heat along each contour. She reveled in it, wanting only more.
Her arms went up around his neck and she melted against him, feeling the tension strengthen in his body as he pressed her tightly against him.
Warm desire curled in the center of her as his long fingers slid under her lacy bra and curved around her tingling breasts. His fingers teased and touched as his tongue tickled her throat.
Then once again her lips eagerly sought his in rapturous harmony. She forgot caution as sensations chased each other eagerly up and down her body.
A soft groan of desire escaped his lips. He lifted his head from hers, and let his warm, firm lips replace his fingers on those suddenly taut peaks. Hot sensations sizzled through her, wrenching an answering sound from her lips.
The sound seemed to break the spell. He suddenly pulled her sweater back down and let her go, breathing hard.
“You’re irresistible.” He laughed, an odd, nervous, almost accusing note in his voice. “I’d better go before we do something we’ll both regret. Don’t forget to lock up this time.”
With an abrupt, almost curt, goodnight he was gone, leaving her surprised, frustrated and hurt. He had seemed almost angry with her for attracting him.
Why should he be? Was he already committed to someone else? Men! Who could ever understand them? she wondered, bewildered, as she obeyed his admonition to lock the door.
***
Henry’s funeral was held in the church the next day. Since there was to be a small private family service before the public service, she refused Mark’s offer to drive her, and went into town early. She avoided going to Jerry’s house and went instead directly to the old brick church.
It was the same small church she had attended all her life. She had been baptized there as a baby, then confirmed there and finally married there, in a lovely white lace dress with a long train. The pictures commemorating these important events in her life were shut away now in her photo album, just as the beautiful dreams were now shut away in a corner of her mind.
She was shocked suddenly to see Arthur walk into the church, almost as though her memories of her wedding day had conjured up the other main participant. He walked toward her and offered condolences to her and her mother just as though no bitter memories were between them.
“Why did you come?” she managed to ask through tight lips, trying to ignore her mother’s ‘don’t you dare make a scene here’ look.
“What a question, Lacey. I was part of this family, too, you know. Of course I wanted to come.” He smiled at her quick evasion of his kiss, and landed it on her cheek instead, pretending that was where it had been intended.
He took her arm as they were ushered to the mourners’ pew at the front of the church as the service began. There was nothing she could do without causing a scene, as he took a seat beside her as though they were still married.
She wondered how many tongues would wag today discussing whether or not they had been reunited. Her thoughts strayed to his motives for coming; he had never been that fond of Henry.
Unbidden, the Minneapolis policeman’s suspicions returned, and she stole a glance at his handsome profile. Could he have been the one who burglarized her apartment?
It didn’t seem possible. There was no way this mild mannered man could have been involved in a gruesome thing like Henry’s murder. Or even guilty of an angry attack on lovely lingerie.
Arthur might have been unfaithful, but she couldn’t believe him cruel. As she talked to him, she was sure of that. He was a lover, not a fighter.
She was amazed to realize that she was truly over him. She was angry with him for his actions today, but she was no longer in love with him or bitter over their divorce.
Lacey sighed deeply and tried to listen to the pastor.
Henry had seldom attended church, so she couldn’t help wondering if he would have objected, if he could have, to the pastor’s flowery eulogy. He had lived in this community all his life, so many people had come to pay their last respects and express their shock and outrage over the way he had died.
A long line of cars with their lights on escorted them and his battered body to its final resting place in the cemetery just outside of town. She shuddered at having to leave him there, all alone under the pine trees.
She endured the pie and coffee tradition in the church parlors, and hardly remembered what she’d answered to her many friends and neighbors’ condolences. But she’d seen Mark across the room, and was angrily aware of Arthur still sticking to her side like a cocklebur, when Mark stopped to politely speak to her and Kate. Lacey’s heart sank as she looked at Mark’s grim face as she was forced to introduce them.
In that moment she despised Arthur for this false show of affection. Mark will never understand, she thought, watching them stiffly shake hands and exchange polite greetings. She was glad of an excuse to escape when a former classmate interrupted them with a delighted squeal, and insisted that Lacey come to her table for some catch-up talk.
After most of the guests had left, she found herself alone with Arthur. “Why did you really come?” she demanded.
“I...needed to talk to you, Lacey. I knew you couldn’t refuse to see me here. It’s just not working out...with Lisa, I mean.”
“I’m sorry, Arthur. But what has that to do with me?”
“She moved out. I...I thought maybe, if it wasn’t too late, we could try again. I know this is a poor time to ask, but...”
“It’s too late, Arthur. Much too late. I’m sorry,” she added. And oddly, she was. She was surprised to find that she wasn’t angry anymore, she just felt sorry for their messed up lives.
***
At last she was home again, to deal with her thoughts, alone and uninterrupted before the fireplace.
She started a fire and made a cup of tea. Old-fashioned it might be, but it was her favorite comfort. She curled her fe
et under her like a cat, and settled back in her easy chair to sip it.
It had seemed a long day in some ways, in other ways it had seemed brief and hurried. She had been happy to see Arthur leave the church basement, and she’d left as well, as soon as she could.
She had enjoyed seeing old friends and former neighbors and classmates. Too often they seemed to get together only on sad occasions. But that was partly her own fault, she knew. She had been invited to several weddings and wedding dances in the past few years. She just couldn’t face a wedding since her divorce.
The weather had been warm and sunshiny today, and only a cool breeze had reminded them it was only May as they stood at the cemetery to hear the pastor’s final words.
She sipped her tea. Everyone had been so kind, thoughtful and helpful. She remembered Old Buster in particular. He had been one of Henry’s card-playing buddies. He was a thin, wiry man, once a construction worker, with the whitest shock of hair she had ever seen. His gravelly voice had shaken as he’d offered her his condolences, and inquired for any news as to whether Ben had figured out who had done it, yet.
“We’re all gonna miss Henry,” he’d said. “Damnedest time for this to happen, too. Don’t know who we’re gonna git to take his hand for the Sheephead tournament next week. Suppose Cherry Hill will win the trophy away from us, now. Don’t think we can hold it without Henry. Six years we’ve had it now, too. Damned shame, is what it is,” he’d said, shaking his head.
Jake Garner, standing beside them, had agreed. Jake was an overweight bachelor, quiet and hard-drinking. He always wore a stocking cap to cover his bald head. His sandy beard was long, however, as though he were proud of still being able to grow that, at least.
Jake was her late father’s stepbrother, so she tried to be nice to him for her mother’s sake. But she had never liked the man. Henry had said that was just because he had an eye for the ladies. Maybe so, but his way of looking her over always made her uncomfortable. If he is such a ladies’ man, she had snapped back at Henry once, why hasn’t he ever found a wife? Henry hadn’t had an answer for that.
But then, Henry had never found a wife either. She wondered why not. He had certainly been a kind and lovable man, though he had, in his later years, become more moody and quiet. He had often stared at the fire for long periods of time, and had been very short with her if she interrupted his daydreams. But he had been a wonderful substitute father to her after her own had died. She was sure he would have enjoyed having children of his own.
The fire leapt and danced before her eyes, and she began to nod.
Scamp put his head on her lap and woke her.
Time for bed. The fire had burned down to a red glow of coals. She was not going to solve anything tonight anyway.
But now she had the oddest feeling that she had forgotten something important. Something had been lurking at the edge of her consciousness, something she must do.
She double-checked the locks on the doors and windows, and nervously looked around the cozy, neat cabin. But nothing rang a bell for her.
Finally she gave up and went up to her room to sleep.
In the shower the next morning she remembered. When she and Mark had been looking through Henry’s computer files, they hadn’t found any backup copies of Henry’s CDs. No two had been alike. And Henry had never missed making copies of everything he did. “The first rule of computing,” he called it. “Especially for dummies like me.” So where were those back up copies? Or had the killer found and removed them?
No, that wouldn’t make sense. Why remove one copy and leave another? Henry must have put them somewhere else himself for safety in case of fire, etc. Think, Lacey.
She tried to remember whether he had ever mentioned them to her as she rubbed herself dry with a blue terry-cloth towel. Of course, she thought. Henry had probably brought them home for safekeeping, so that they would be in a different building in case of fire. So the best place to start looking was right here in this cabin.
She must find them. Suddenly she was sure that they were very important.
She dressed quickly, let Scamp outside for his morning run, put the coffee on to perk and began searching the cabin.
She had never before gone into Henry’s bedroom; he had even insisted on cleaning it himself. Guilt spread through her as she went there now, opened Henry’s desk and began going through his files. Since they had always respected each others’ privacy, she had no idea where to look. So, it might take some time.
Besides, until they met with Henry’s lawyer this afternoon, she wasn’t sure who now had the right to these things. Or even how long she would be able to stay here in this cabin. Perhaps it now belonged to her mother. Or had Henry left it to some charity? Her mind flew from thought to thought as she searched, so that she didn’t even hear the doorbell.
“What are you looking for?” Mark’s voice suddenly asked behind her.
She jumped and whirled to face him, a warm flush of partly anger, partly pleased surprise spreading across her cheeks.
“Mark! You scared the daylights out of me. Don’t you ever knock?” she scolded, brushing back a stray wisp of hair, and leaving a smudge of dust on her forehead in its place.
“I rang the bell. You didn’t answer. And the door was unlocked again,” he said accusingly. “Haven’t I told you to keep it locked when you’re out here alone?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she chided, then frowned. “I must have forgotten to lock it again after I let Scamp out this morning. And Scamp,” she scolded the golden Labrador who had evidently come back in with Mark, and was now sitting on the floor beside Mark wagging his tail happily, “you are supposed to bark to warn me when someone arrives.”
Scamp tipped his head and lifted his ears at the severe tone in her voice, as though to ask what he had done wrong. He wagged his tail again, looking questioningly at her face.
She relented and reached down to give him a hug. “It’s okay, boy. No harm done.” She stood up and went to wash her dusty hands at the kitchen sink. “I thought you would have gone back to the cities this morning. Don’t you have classes to teach?”
“It’s spring break. No classes this week. I’m spending it out here. Henry was my friend, too.”
“Oh.” She could think of nothing to say. There was a definite note of sincerity in his quiet voice. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and asked, “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes. But don’t change the subject. You were obviously looking for something.”
“Yes.” She poured the coffee, then sat down at the little dinette table opposite him. There seemed no harm in telling him. “I remembered that when we went through Henry’s things at the office, we found no backup CDs for anything. Didn’t that strike you as odd?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But not everyone bothers to make copies. Some think it a waste of time, others that it is too expensive; takes too many CDs. Are you sure Henry even made any?”
“Yes. Henry was religious about making copies of everything. He was always afraid of losing data by absentmindedly pressing the wrong keys.”
“Maybe he used a jump drive? Most people do, now.”
“No, his computer was too old. It didn’t even have a USB port. Since we didn’t find those backup copies at the shop, I thought maybe he had stored them here in the cabin.”
“That does sound logical.”
“But I have no idea where.” She watched the muscles in his bare arms ripple as he lifted his cup to his lips. How could he be so relaxed, and yet give the impression of strength and power at the same time? Desire to be in those arms again surged through her, a wild yearning to feel those muscles enfold her in their warm embrace once more. She swallowed her coffee, and set down her cup.
His voice brought her back to earth. “I’ll help you look.”
She tore her eyes away from his hairy forearms and met his look. For a moment she was sure she saw desire flame in his eyes too. Then it was gone, and she nodded.
&n
bsp; As she rose, he reached out and took her arm. “Your ex-husband stayed pretty close to you at Henry’s funeral.”
“Yes.” She met his eyes. “He’s married again, but it’s not working out either. But it’s over between us, Mark, whatever impression he tried to give people yesterday.”
“I’m glad.” The smile came back into his blue eyes.
There were few possible hiding spots in Henry’s cabin. She had already gone through the obvious spots, like his desk drawers and the boxes of old store records stacked along one wall of his bedroom beside his desk. They searched the closets, the dining room furniture, and finally the kitchen.
Once Lacey looked under the couch, then laughed at herself for doing so. Henry wouldn’t have hidden them, he was merely keeping them safe, not trying to hide them from anyone. And they would have had to be handy, so he could get at them often himself.
Finally, on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, they found a cardboard box full of CDs. Since it was behind a door that was above the refrigerator, it was handy, yet seldom used.
Once they’d found them, it seemed such an obvious place for them: just out of reach, yet easy to get at to add or get a CD when Henry would have wanted to.
“Pay-dirt!” she exclaimed, exchanging a pleased smile with Mark. He took her hand to help her down from the kitchen stool and that surge of electricity ran through her again. It was becoming a familiar feeling whenever he was near. Lacey glanced at Mark quickly to see if it affected him too. But she couldn’t tell. He was already looking through the box.
They found the matching CD for the one which had been empty or erased.
“This proves it was erased.” Mark exclaimed. “Henry wouldn’t have made a copy and brought it home until there was something on it to make a copy of.”
“Yes, of course. Let’s go. I can’t wait to pull it up on the computer to see what’s on it.”
Chapter 7
“I walked over, Lacey,” Mark said.
“Then we’ll just take my car. But I’d better change first, so I don’t have to drive back out here. I have a lunch date, then that meeting this afternoon with Henry’s lawyer.”
