Nowhere to Hide

by Carlene Thompson

  Will narrowed an eye. “You’re analyzing me.”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Catherine took a sip of her spritzer. “Well, maybe just a little.”

  Will stuck out his hand and turned the palm up. “What do you see?”

  Her mouth opened slightly, she looked at the hand, and then she looked at the glint in his eyes. “Uh, that’s not quite how we do it, Will.”

  “Oh, phooey,” he said as if deeply disappointed. “No palm reading? No looking into a crystal ball? No phrenology?”

  “Thank goodness no phrenology. I can just imagine feeling the bumps on people’s heads all day.”

  “Yeah, some people have dirty hair. Then some people have filthy hair and lice!”

  Catherine laughed. “Will you stop before my food comes?”

  “Maybe if you won’t completely break my heart by telling me you don’t read tarot cards. I can read tarot cards, I’ll have you know, and I thought if this latest university didn’t see what a superior mind I have and asked me to leave, I could go into business with you. Not fifty-fifty, of course. You wouldn’t need me for every case. But for the ones calling for tarot card readings I could be a lifesaver.”

  “If you don’t stop, I think I’ll make you my first patient.” Catherine giggled.

  “I’ll stop teasing you if you’ll answer a serious question.” Catherine waited a moment and then nodded. “Do you think you’ll ever come back here like Marissa did?”

  Catherine frowned. “I don’t know. When I left, all I could think of was seeing the world. Now I’m not certain how I planned to do that and work at my chosen profession, too, but it’s what I wanted. Mom and Dad were alive and it seemed as if they would be forever. But they’re both gone and I spent so little time with them the last few years. Now there’s only Marissa. Of course she came back to take care of Mom—I would have helped, but they don’t allow extended leaves in doctoral programs; still, I feel guilty that I wasn’t here to help. And I think so often of those last months of my mother’s life that I missed.

  “At first Marissa said she was only going to stay here until we got all the legalities settled,” Catherine went on. “Then she got a job. Now she says she should stay at least a year. Changing jobs frequently doesn’t help you get another one. I feel there’s more to her wanting to stay than her career, though. This is home to her.” Catherine sighed. “She’s been home since late June. She’s had time to settle back into life here. Since mom’s funeral, I’ve only been here for this Christmas break. I know we said we were not going to talk about any of the awful things that have happened this week, but they’ve made me wonder if I could make this home again. Right now, I have this strange feeling I’m in the horror house at the carnival.”

  “Well stated,” Will said, finishing the rest of his martini. “This place is like a horror house. Or being trapped in a nightmare that won’t let you wake up.” He went silent. Catherine noticed the slight twitch beside his eye and he curled his fingers in and out of his damp palms.

  “Hello, Catherine.”

  She looked up to see James Eastman standing beside the booth, his face solemn. “James,” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to have lunch.”

  “Oh yes, of course. What a stupid question. James, you know Will Addison, don’t you?”

  James gave him a stony look. “We’ve met several times. How are you, Will?”

  “Same as always,” Will said jovially. James’s gaze fixed on the empty martini glass and Will tried unobtrusively to shove it away. “Won’t you join us? Catherine and I haven’t seen each other for ages. Well, actually, we saw each other Monday but only for a few minutes. We’re just catching up on old times.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I’ve already had my lunch and I’m expecting a client at the office in ten minutes. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your reminiscences, anyway.” He gave them each a stiff smile. “Maybe another time. Good-bye, Will, Catherine,” and he was on his way out.

  Will looked at Catherine and raised an eyebrow. “Friendly fellow, that James Eastman.”

  “Well, he usually is,” Catherine said faintly, feeling as if she’d done something wrong but not sure what it was. “Maybe he doesn’t feel well or he’s dreading the client he’ll be seeing or—”

  Will burst into laughter. “Or he doesn’t like seeing his girl dining out with another man.”

  “His girl! Will Addison, I am not James’s girl. We’ve had exactly two dates.”

  “Two! I only knew about the one in the Larke dining room. When was the other one?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business and not that it was really a date, but we were going to your mother’s party together.”

  “Then Marissa had to blow things by having that silly wreck.”

  “You’re awful, Will Addison. And I’m not James Eastman’s girl.”

  “Judging by the look on his face when he saw you with another man, I think you’d better tell him you’re not his girl. He became the town’s most eligible bachelor after the lovely Renée vanished, but I don’t think he’ll hold that title for long. I believe he has again found love.”

  Catherine blushed. “You are too silly for words, Will. James is not in love with me.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “What? That’s ludicrous! Did you see that in your tarot cards? Will, really!”

  “Settle down, Catherine. I just know when another man is feeling territorial.”

  “Oh, that was beautifully stated. I feel like the neighborhood female dog in heat.”

  “Equally lovely. Perhaps we should just run away and become poets.”

  Catherine was about to answer when they brought the food, smelling unbelievably good, and Will ordered another martini. Catherine closed her eyes and breathed in the hot chicken, Alfredo sauce, and Parmesan cheese. When she opened her eyes, Will was staring at her intently.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said softly.

  “Oh. Well, thank you.” Catherine felt thrown off balance. She and Will had always shared a casual friendship without a hint of romance. “I suppose this wonderful food is bringing a twinkle to my eye and color to my cheeks.”

  “You think I’m leading up to a joke. I’m not. I’ve never seen blue-green eyes like yours, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, perfect lips. You could have been a model. Or an actress. Instead, you used your impressive intelligence to propel yourself through a grueling course of training leading to a serious career. You don’t know how much I admire that about you.”

  Now Catherine’s cheeks were burning. Will looked at her solemnly, intensely, and his voice sounded slightly husky.

  “I wish things had been different, Catherine. I wish I had been different. Maybe I could have pursued you and you would have taken me seriously if I hadn’t always been a screwup.”

  “You’re not a screwup, Will.”

  “Yes, I am. You’re too nice to say it, but you know it. Still, you’ve continued to be my friend. Even when we were in our teens, when age differences mean so much, you always treated me as an equal although I was a year younger than you.”

  Nervously Catherine picked up her spritzer and took a large sip. She felt as if she’d come into the restaurant with one man and was now sitting with another. She’d never seen Will so serious, so…earnest.

  “Will, I have to be honest. I think you’re getting maudlin. You’re handsome. You come from a family with money. You might have left a couple of universities—”

  “Three.”

  “Okay, three, but a lot of young people bounce around before they decide what they really want to do in life. You’re only twenty-seven. You have so many opportunities if you’ll just take advantage of them. When I met you twelve years ago, you seemed ready to take on the world.” She paused. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Why did you change when you were seventeen? Before, you seemed gen
uinely to enjoy life. Ever since, you seemed to be pretending, acting. And you’re not a good actor.”

  Will looked surprised and grabbed his martini. “If I changed, I wasn’t aware of it,” he said with complete lack of sincerity.

  “Yes, you are. Did a girl break your heart?”

  He said barely above a whisper, “A boy broke my heart.”

  “Oh.” Catherine stared at him. “Oh! I didn’t know it was that way for you. Why have you always kept it a secret?”

  Will smiled. “I’m not gay, Catherine. I didn’t mean a boy broke my heart in a romantic sense. I meant—”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, of all the coincidences!” Will and Catherine looked up to see Evelyn Addison, Will’s mother. “I didn’t know you were having lunch together!”

  Catherine beamed at Evelyn while Will rolled his eyes. He’d told Catherine his mother eavesdropped on phone calls whenever she got the chance. “Won’t you sit down with us, Mrs. Addison?” Catherine asked.

  “Well…” Evelyn pretended to think it over. “I believe I will. I’ve been doing last-minute Christmas shopping and I didn’t know how tired and hungry I was until I walked in here.” Catherine scooted over, but the tall, forty-pounds-too-heavy Evelyn shoved in beside Will, who looked as sad as if he’d lost his last friend in the world.

  “How is Marissa, Catherine? I’ve been so worried about her.” Evelyn frowned and tried to look as if tears were about to appear in those heavily made-up dark eyes. “Some people thought I’d be upset she couldn’t cover our Christmas party for the newspaper, but of course I wasn’t. All I cared about was Marissa’s welfare.”

  Will rolled his eyes again.

  “She’s fine, Mrs. Addison. She had a close call—they pulled her from the car just before it rolled into the river—and she was in quite a bit of pain over the weekend, but she’s all right now.”

  “Well, that’s marvelous,” Evelyn said absently. “Is she back at work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, wonderful! That she’s well enough to work, I meant.” Catherine felt pinned to the booth by the woman’s probing eyes. She leaned forward. “Tell me something in confidence, Catherine. Working on the paper, has Marissa heard anything new about Tonya Archer’s death? I can’t believe she was murdered! She was known for being a bit loose for a while, but then she straightened up and married Andrew Archer, of all people. Anyway, Tonya’s murder right after Buddy Pruitt’s gives me chills!”

  Catherine was saved from answering by the waiter stopping at their booth. Evelyn ordered tonic water with lime and asked for crackers immediately because she felt a bit nauseated. Oh, and could she also have a large glass of water with extra ice? And she’d love to have one of those delicious chocolate treats they gave you when you left. Maybe two, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.

  Will sighed and ordered another martini.

  Chapter 12

  1

  Marissa waited until around three o’clock before calling Susan Montgomery. When Marissa introduced herself, Eric’s mother hesitated before saying, “Hello, Marissa.” No How are you? No It’s nice to hear from you. When Marissa explained that she was calling about the Friends of the Library auction and reception and would like to do an interview, Susan’s voice grew even stiffer.

  “Marissa, I’m really not good at things like interviews. I’m sure someone else would be better—Irene Hagarty, perhaps. She’s our treasurer—”

  “I know,” Marissa lied. “That’s just the problem. The story would have so much more impact if you—the president of the Friends of the Library—could speak about how much the library means to the whole town and all your goals for an institution that benefits everyone.”

  Susan hesitated and then still balked. “I’m simply shy, Marissa. You know that about me. I’m not an articulate speaker—”

  “You’re much more articulate than you know. Besides, you will have me to edit for you. What if I promise to show you the article before we run it? That way you can omit anything you’ve said that you’d rather not have in the newspaper or add anything you’d like to add since we did the interview? The story will be just the way you want. That’s your privilege as the president. Won’t you please do this, Mrs. Montgomery? For the library?”

  Marissa knew she’d backed the woman into a corner. If she said no, she’d sound as if she didn’t really care about the organization—she just liked being president of a civic group. Marissa could almost hear Susan’s mental battle before she said resignedly, “All right, Marissa. Could you come to my house around two o’clock tomorrow? We want to get news of the event into the paper as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, thank you so much, Mrs. Montgomery. I really appreciate this.”

  “You’re welcome. And Marissa,” Susan added dryly, “you haven’t lost your touch for talking anyone into anything.”

  Marissa hung up, her face burning red at Susan Montgomery’s knowledge of how Marissa had manipulated her, but she had to smile. At least she’d pulled off something that could help Eric and her learn more about Gretchen’s last summer.

  At five fifteen Marissa felt she’d done less work than anyone else at the Gazette, but she’d completed everything assigned to her. Eric had said to meet him at five thirty, so she knew she should be on her way. She glanced at Hank Landers, who was working frantically, and felt guilty that she couldn’t help him. When all of this was over, she’d try to take more than her share of the load, she told herself as she put on her coat and headed outside toward her rental car.

  Within five minutes after she’d pulled into a parking spot half a block away from police headquarters, Eric came loping out, jacket pulled high around his neck, head bent, looking neither right nor left. He hopped into Marissa’s car, turned his back to the passenger window facing the sidewalk, and looked affronted when she burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You are just about the most suspicious-looking person I’ve ever seen. What’s the matter? Did you slaughter everyone at headquarters before you made it to the getaway car?”

  He gave her a look of heavy patience. “Do you realize you are involved in this case?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you know everyone in headquarters—hell, half the town—knows we were engaged?”

  “I didn’t know, but it’s good to get accurate statistics.”

  “Well, for one thing, I am not allowed to become personally involved with a material witness.”

  “Material witness! Eric, you know whoever caused my wreck was swathed from head to toe in a disguise. I didn’t see what he really looked like!”

  “Nevertheless, you’re considered a material witness and I repeat, I’m not supposed to become personally involved with you. Especially romantically. And if people see me with you, that’s what they’ll think—that we’re…”

  “Romantically involved.”

  “Yes. I’m trying to prevent trouble at the worst, embarrassment at the least.”

  “All right. I’m sorry I laughed. I didn’t know all the possible trouble that could come of our discussing the case outside of headquarters.”

  “Don’t say ‘discussing the case’!” Eric nearly shouted, looking appalled.

  “I thought that’s what we’re going to do.”

  “We are, but we’re not going to tell anyone.”

  “Okay. You can count on me, sir.”

  Eric picked up on the hint of laughter in her voice and gave her a stern look. “I mean it, Marissa. What we’re doing could be a serious breach of procedure.”

  “I get it, Eric. Stop worrying. No one is paying any attention to us.”

  Eric was reaching for the door handle when someone pecked on Marissa’s window. They both jumped as if they’d been shot and whipped around to see Jean Farrell. Marissa rolled down the window.

  “I don’t have a lot of time and I wanted to speak with both of you,” Jean said. “I’m so glad I found you together.”

  Mari
ssa knew both of them looked pink faced and guilty, but the fact that they were together in Marissa’s car didn’t even seem to register with Jean. She looked at Marissa. The woman’s pale eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep and her cheeks were sunken. “I know you’re thinking I look dreadful, Marissa.”

  “No, I—”

  “Yes, you were and yes, I do. But I don’t think Mitch can last much longer, and I want him to know that I’m there,” she said firmly. “‘In sickness and in health,’ you know.”

  “But you need help, Jean. You’re absolutely worn-out.”

  “She’s right,” Eric added.

  “I know when I’ve reached my limit and I finally got someone,” she said, addressing both Marissa and Eric. “A nice male nurse starts tomorrow. He’ll come every morning at nine and stay until early afternoon. I have someone with Mitch now, but she’s adamant about leaving by six thirty.”

  Eric frowned. “Don’t you think you need someone full-time?”

  Jean sounded reluctant. “Well, you know how tight the insurance companies are these days. I’m grateful for the nurse a few hours a day. I asked my neighbor to come this afternoon because I had a few last errands to do. Frankly, I don’t think Mitch can hold on much longer. I’ve asked him to let me send him to the hospital, but he wants to die at home. We’ve lived in that house all our married life. We had our little girl, Betsy, there with us for three precious years.”

  Jean swallowed hard and began rubbing her hands, which bore scars from a lifetime of working outside and refusing to wear gardening gloves. A scar on the palm of her left hand was the worst, and she kneaded it vigorously. “I just can’t drag him off to some sterile-looking hospital room with none of the things he loves around him.