Nowhere to Hide

by Carlene Thompson

  “Yes. Andrew found her. He said he’d had to work late. She was in her kitchen and someone stabbed her in the throat. Puncture wound, the doctor says. Must have gotten one of the jugular veins. I’ll have to wait for the ME’s report to know.”

  “But that couldn’t be. She was here!”

  “There?”

  “Yes. About half an hour after you left, she arrived without calling. I guess she didn’t notice the flower garden. If she did, she didn’t mention it. She said she wanted to patch up our friendship. She stayed for about a half hour, but she was nervous and quick to take offense and she was rambling about Dillon and finally she left in a huff and told me not to go whining to Andrew about her being here.”

  “Good God!” Marissa could hear Eric draw a deep breath. “She was wearing a coat when Andrew found her. She must have just gotten home, which means—”

  “Someone was waiting inside for her?”

  “They weren’t there when Andrew got home. He’s a wreck.”

  “Of course he is. I didn’t see them together often, but I know he was so in love with her. And vice versa, from what I heard last night.”

  “He won’t be in to work today. I think someone called the guy who retired as editor and Andrew replaced. He’ll fill in.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  “Marissa, are you all right? You sound so vague.”

  “I’m just trying to take it all in.”

  “I think everyone is. Marissa, have you talked over everything that’s happened with Catherine? Does she know all about Tonya’s visit?”

  “No. I’d gone to bed when she came in.”

  “Good. I don’t want her to know about Tonya right now. Will she be home this evening?

  “As far as I know she doesn’t have plans.”

  “Then I’d like to ask a favor from you.”

  “Anything I can do to help, Eric.”

  “I need to get a time line on Tonya’s murder, and the time Andrew says he returned home. Also, you said Tonya’s visit was strange. I want to hear all the details, and I’d like to keep this stuff between the two of us for now.”

  “All right. I won’t say a word to her. You took the postcard and the doll and the ‘Tyger’ note, so she can’t accidentally run across them. Only you and I know about them. She’ll see the rose garden, though.”

  “No getting around that. You’ll have to tell her about the fire. Leave out the doll and the other stuff for now.”

  “Was that the favor you wanted to ask of me?”

  “No. I didn’t get any sleep last night and I’ll be working all day, so here’s the favor. I wonder if you would meet me at headquarters about five thirty. Outside, of course. We don’t want to set off the gossipmongers here. Anyway, we’ll go back to my place and you can tell me everything you can remember about times, things you and Tonya discussed—anything that might help. That way we’ll have complete privacy.”

  “Catherine will pester me to death wanting to know why you want privacy with me.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. I think it’s best she knows where you are in case something happens and she needs you—us. Tell her I want to go over details about your wreck again. I know by six o’clock or so I’ll be tired and in need of a shower to wake up my brain. And I have some files at my apartment I’d like for you to read.”

  Marissa didn’t hesitate. Eric’s tone told her he had nothing in mind but business for tonight. He wasn’t trying to lure her to his apartment for a romantic interlude. “I understand. You said you’d want to eat. So will I. I haven’t worked on my cooking skills the last few years, so I can’t go into your kitchen and whip up something wonderful in a jiffy.”

  “You certainly couldn’t. I have beer, a jar of mustard, some shriveled hot dogs, and some milk I’m sure has gone sour. We’ll stop and get something. How about Kentucky Fried Chicken?”

  “I love it.”

  “I remember. See you later, Marissa.”

  2

  The offices of the Aurora Falls Gazette were almost eerily quiet. People sat at their desks, working efficiently, but they all had a look of shock and bewilderment. In the mornings, Marissa always walked by Andrew’s office and waved. Today, she saw a much older man with weathered skin and thick white hair sitting at Andrew’s desk. She recalled that Peter Hagarty had been the former editor. She didn’t know him and would have stopped in his office to introduce herself, but he held the phone in his hand as he took notes, his forehead furrowed.

  Marissa sauntered to the coffeemaker Tonya had given to the Gazette not long before Andrew hired Marissa. As she poured a cup of the aromatic blend, the call from Eric repeated itself in her mind. He’d said Tonya had suffered a puncture wound in the neck damaging a jugular vein. She’d probably died in a pool of blood. Marissa cringed. She’d seen Tonya just twelve hours earlier and her features remained sharp in Marissa’s mind. Tonya had looked so young last night, she thought. So young and…blooming. Many people said a woman looked blooming when she was—

  Marissa nearly dropped her cup before she got back to her desk.

  Could Tonya’s odd behavior last night have had anything to do with a pregnancy? People said a woman’s hormones went wild during pregnancy. Marissa sat down and took a sip of hot coffee and then another, as if they could clear her head. No, she thought. Maybe hormones were partially responsible for Tonya’s mood swings but not for the whole conversation. Why was she so hell-bent on renewing the friendship? She didn’t want me stirring up trouble, Marissa decided. She wanted the whole issue of Gretchen’s death forgotten. Could it be that if Tonya was pregnant, she didn’t want her child ever to hear something that made it doubt its mother?

  Peter Hagarty, looking harried, opened his door and called, “Marissa Gray?”

  She hurried to his office and he shut the door. “Hi. Pete Hagarty,” he said, extending his hand. “Sorry I couldn’t introduce myself earlier.”

  “That’s all right. I’m Marissa and I’ve always heard good things about you.” She paused. “And boy, did that sound like apple-polishing.”

  He laughed, a rumbling sound deep in his chest. “Maybe from someone else, but you’re too good a reporter to need to flatter me.” His laughter stopped as quickly as it had begun. “You know about the Tonya Archer murder. I want you and Landers to cover it. Just because it’s the murder of your boss’s wife, don’t walk on eggshells—”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Hagarty, but Tonya Archer was a friend of mine.” She hesitated. Eric had told her not to mention what Tonya had said during her visit last night, but Marissa’s reporter’s ethics overrode her desire to please Eric. “She was at my house last night.”

  “What?” Hagarty boomed so loudly people outside his office looked at them through the glass. “Tonya Archer was at your house last night?”

  I just said that, Marissa thought, but she tried to keep any annoyance from her expression. “Yes, sir. I wish I could help today, but unfortunately, I’m connected to the murders of Buddy Pruitt and Tonya Archer. Tangentially to Buddy, but as far as the police are concerned—”

  “Damn. The police are out to get me.”

  Marissa didn’t know whether he was serious. He stared out the window, making a steeple with his fingers. Then he let out a huge sigh and looked at Marissa with sympathy. “My wife would smack me over the head with an iron frying pan for what I just did—thinking about how things aren’t working out for me when your friend has just been murdered. I’m sorry, Marissa.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You and Tonya were good friends?”

  She tilted her head and looked at him cannily. “Always the reporter, aren’t you?”

  “You caught me. Just think—a week ago we were known for being a low-crime city. Now…” He raised his arms. “Well, I do have a story you can cover.” The expression in his gaze lightened. “Hold on to your hat—it’s a big one.”

  Marissa laughed. “I would, but I’m not wearing a hat.”


  “On January fifth, the Friends of the Library are holding a book auction to raise funds for the new library. They’re going to have refreshments and entertainment. My wife is one of the Friends and instructed me to see that we do a decent story about it, not some little blurb on the last page. The president of the Friends is Susan Montgomery—the chief deputy’s mother—but my wife says she doesn’t like talking to the press. Shy or something. So I guess you could talk to my wife—”

  “I can talk to Susan!” Marissa blurted, remembering Eric saying things were uncomfortable when he visited his house. He didn’t want to ask to see albums. Marissa didn’t, either, but she wouldn’t be crushed if her request was denied. “Susan’s daughter was my best friend. I know the Montgomerys very well. I think I could get a decent interview from Susan. She’d be relaxed around me—she’s known me since I was a little girl—and if I have a tape recorder going, she might start talking and forget her stage fright. I’m sure I can get something helpful from her!”

  Mr. Hagarty leaned back in his chair, put up both hands, and said, “Whoa! My God, Marissa, you do have the heart of a reporter! Not shy about going after the big stories, are you?”

  Marissa laughed. “We’re not exactly talking about an interview at the White House.”

  “No, but…”

  “Mr. Hagarty, this wouldn’t be the same as my covering a news story about Buddy Pruitt or Tonya,” Marissa said earnestly. “It’s more of a feature story. I wouldn’t be breaching ethics.”

  He frowned before bursting out, “Why not? My wife told me we have to treat Susan very gently because she lost her daughter, but if you knew that daughter, if you were friends with the family—”

  “I did know Gretchen. I know the whole family. I will be my absolutely most tactful and gentle. After all, the story isn’t about Gretchen. I don’t think I’ll have to bully Susan into talking about the city library.”

  “You might have to be a little forceful to get her to agree to an interview.”

  “I know. And I will if must, but I can do it gently.” Marissa was already rising from her chair. “Please, Mr. Hagarty, let me do this story. I’ll call Mrs. Montgomery this afternoon and set up a time for the interview as soon as possible. January fifth isn’t far away.”

  “You’re right. Get to work. And Marissa?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could you call me Peter? Or even better, Pete. I have a problem with a whizz kid like you calling me Mr. Hagarty—makes me feel like an old fogey.”

  Marissa smiled. “I don’t think I’ll have a bit of trouble calling you Pete.”

  “The Aurora Falls Gazette, Marissa Gray speaking.”

  Catherine nearly shouted over the phone: “Marissa, how could you leave this morning without telling me Tonya was murdered last night?”

  “I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible before you heard the news. Who told you?”

  “Will Addison! He called this morning and was shocked that I didn’t know. We haven’t been close to Tonya for years, but she was our friend since we were children! I don’t understand what you were thinking, Marissa, letting me just sleep the morning away when you knew Tonya had been murdered!”

  “You’ve already burst my right ear drum. Can you lower your voice?”

  “What? I’m sorry, but I’m upset.” Her voice grew even louder: “And what the hell happened to the rose garden?”

  “Catherine, you are beyond upset. Take a couple of breaths before you have a stroke. Now, you said Will Addison called you about Tonya. What time did he call you?”

  “About eleven o’clock.”

  “I found out about Tonya more than two hours earlier. That was two hours you were able to sleep and enjoy your morning. You couldn’t do anything for Tonya. I thought I could do something for you—give you a peaceful morning. Your visit home has been pretty much of a disaster.”

  “Well, I guess I understand your thinking,” Catherine said reluctantly. “I could never have kept my mouth shut—I would have been up the stairs and had you awake within ten minutes—but you’ve always been much more coolheaded about everything than I am. I get so distressed.”

  Which is partly why I’m not going to tell you now that Tonya visited me last night, Marissa thought. That news can wait, especially because Eric doesn’t want the news generally known. “As for Mom’s rose garden, someone poured kerosene on the bushes and set fire to them.”

  “Who? Why?”

  “Those are the questions I, the reporter, am supposed to ask. We don’t know who did it. Eric was there—”

  “Eric! Why?”

  “To talk about something that happened earlier yesterday. I’ll tell you when I have more privacy. Anyway, we were sitting in the kitchen and the blinds were down. Lindsay kept barking and at first we ignored her; then she got really frantic and Eric pulled aside a blind and we saw the fire. The fire department sent a small truck to put it out and a firefighter told us the accelerant was kerosene. Of course, Eric is investigating, but he hasn’t turned up anything yet.”

  “Mom’s poor flowers,” Catherine mourned. “I’m glad she can’t see them. I also have my doubts about this being a prank, happening so soon after your wreck.”

  “Maybe that’s why someone decided to do it. They thought I’d be more frightened after the wreck.”

  “Maybe.” Catherine was obviously unconvinced.

  “If you hadn’t called me, I was going to call you in a few minutes anyway,” Marissa said quickly. “I won’t be home for dinner tonight. Eric wants to go over a few things with me.”

  “And you’re going to a restaurant to do that?”

  Marissa braced herself, knowing how Catherine would interpret the information. “No, we’re going to his apartment. Eric didn’t sleep at all last night and he hasn’t stopped for two days in a row. He said getting out of that uniform, taking a shower, and relaxing would help him concentrate. Taking a shower to relax before we talk. Talk about evidence and…well, stuff like that.” Marissa rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a date or anything, Catherine. It’s strictly business.”

  “Did I say otherwise?”

  “No, but the tone of your voice spoke volumes.” Feeling ridiculously juvenile, Marissa asked quickly, “Will you give Lindsay her dinner?”

  “I will. What television shows does she like? We’ll have a whole evening to occupy ourselves.”

  “Not a whole evening, Catherine.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Don’t be silly. I won’t be gone all evening.” She paused. “Why don’t you call James and ask him to keep you company?”

  “Call James! I just saw him last night! He’ll think I’m desperate and he’ll run for the hills.”

  “I doubt that, but at least be certain to keep the doors locked.”

  “Because you’re expecting more trouble?”

  “No, because it’s a good idea.” Marissa needed to change the subject. “Why did Will call you?”

  “He invited me to lunch. He said his mother had some presents for us—I guess she feels guilty because we’re orphans—and he said he could bring them over and then take me out for a leisurely meal.”

  “Is he giving James a run for his money?”

  “No. Will and I have been friends for a long time—not close friends, but friends. You know that. We’ll just do some catching up.”

  “Have a good time,” Marissa said. “And pray he doesn’t bring his mother along.”

  Catherine laughed. “I don’t think I have to worry about Evelyn Addison today.”

  3

  “Oh, Will, I haven’t come to Antonio’s for years!” Catherine exclaimed as they stepped through the door of the Italian restaurant. “It looks just like I remember it, though,” she said, gazing at walls designed to make the restaurant look like a wine cellar, the cozy booths covered in a moss green suede-like fabric, and the copper-plated ceiling, the hand-carved mahogany bar.

  Will smiled. “I haven’t been here for a couple of years, eit
her. Of course, neither one of us has spent much time in Aurora Falls lately.”

  A waiter showed them to a booth, told them the specials of the day, and took their drink orders. Catherine ordered a white wine spritzer. Will ordered his usual martini.

  “So you’ll be getting your degree in the spring?” Will asked.

  “Yes. I’ve finished my course work and now I’m actually working, although under supervision. If all goes well, I’ll get my license in May.”

  “And go to work in a hospital?”

  Catherine frowned. “I used to think that’s what I wanted. Now I believe I’d like to join the practice of a friend.”

  “Would this friend be male?”

  “No, this friend would not. She’s a few years older than I am and has a practice in San Francisco. The city is so beautiful.”

  “And so far away from home.”

  The drinks arrived and Catherine ordered Chicken Alfredo and Will, after much pondering, selected Spaghetti Marvelo. After the waiter left, will leaned across the table and told her, “I can’t stand people who ask a dozen questions before ordering and then want this not overcooked and that not overcooked and a quarter-inch-wide piece of orange rind on the side. They drive me crazy! I was deciding if I wanted to get something with lots of onion and garlic so Mother would keep her distance tonight.”

  Catherine laughed. “Poor Will. Your mother adores you.”

  “I wish my mother had at least five other children to worry about—not just me. But I’ve given her plenty of reason to worry, I guess.”

  “I don’t remember ever hearing that you’d gotten in serious trouble, Will. As for your higher education…”

  Will grinned. “Stepped in it there, didn’t you? No one wants to talk about my higher education. I’ve dropped out of three universities before they could fail me. Then last year—well, last year was what Mother calls ‘a year of recuperation.’ This semester I started all over in a new university—the only one that would have me, I think. I’m supposed to be a changed man.”

  Will reached for his martini, immediately downing more than could be considered a sip. Catherine looked at him. Only one year younger than she, he had some noticeable vertical lines across his forehead, a slightly crinkled look at the corners of his eyes, and a few gray hairs at his temples. He could smile and laugh and not look happy. The new university wouldn’t work out for him, either, she thought. His “year of recuperation,” which most people believed had been several months of rehab in Europe, hadn’t helped. Catherine wondered what had happened to this handsome, intelligent, charming young man when he was seventeen or eighteen to change him so much.