“No,” I exclaimed, shaking my head back and forth. “You said the murderer might—”
“The point I was trying to make is these rumors could compromise Tink’s safety.” He gave me a hard stare. “So if you know anything, Ophelia, you’d better come clean and tell me.”
“I don’t, really I don’t,” I stuttered. “I know in the past I haven’t always been completely honest with you, but I swear, this time—” I clamped my mouth shut to stop my blathering.
“Okay.” Bill gave me a kind smile. “I believe you.” He stood and settled his hat back on his head. “Just keep an eye on her, and to be on the safe side, I’ll ask the chief to send a patrol car by every so often in the evenings.”
“O-o-kay,” I bumbled.
Pulling his hat low on his forehead, he exuded confidence. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch whoever’s responsible for Buchan-an’s death.”
I stood in shock, staring at Bill’s back as he left the office.
Was Tink not only going to be haunted by ghosts, but by a killer, too?
Fourteen
I examined my face in the mirror on my vanity table. Lines of tension crossed my forehead and creases bracketed my mouth. Even Darci’s makeup tips weren’t going to hide those suckers.
“I don’t think this date is such a good idea, Darci,” I said as my eyes moved from my face to her reflection hovering by mine in the mirror.
“Yes it is.” She moved to the side of the table and, resting a hip on the edge, stared down at me. “Bill told you that he didn’t think Tink’s in danger. She’s staying with Abby tonight, so I don’t see what the problem is.”
I brushed the hair away from my face. “Come on, Abby’s in her seventies and Aunt Dot’s in her nineties. How much protection can two senior citizens provide?”
“Bill was only warning you to be careful, not suggesting that you call out the militia to protect her.”
“And Aunt Dot has a broken wrist,” I said, ignoring Darci’s statement. “She couldn’t even protect herself.”
She chuckled. “I’m not too sure about that,” she exclaimed. “I bet she can be really wicked with that cane of hers.” She straightened and stepped behind me. Laying a hand on my shoulder, she pinched the muscle.
“Ouch,” I said, batting her hand away.
“You’re so tense those muscles are in knots. If you don’t do something to relax, you’re going to crack.”
“I know.” I stroked my forehead trying to ease the lines away. “When I came home this afternoon, I let my guard down to summon a vision. It didn’t work. I couldn’t focus.”
“Did anything come to you?”
I stood and walked back to my bedroom with Darci following. “No, not really. All I saw was a bunch of random images—”
“Such as?” Darci asked, butting in.
“From the past…mainly from our trip to Minnesota when we first met Tink.” I stretched my neck trying to ease the kinks.
Leaning back, Darci tapped her chin thoughtfully. “That makes sense, since you’re concerned with her safety.”
Taking a seat next to her, I slipped on my sandals. “I suppose, but I didn’t find anything enlightening about what I saw.”
“Quit worrying,” she replied, poking me in the ribs. “Go have fun. Set the problems aside for tonight. Maybe if you do, it will help clear your mind and you’ll be able to see things more clearly.”
“You’re right,” I agreed reluctantly, and stood. Holding my arms out to the side, I watched Darci’s face. “So? How do I look?”
She squinted and eyed me from head to toe.
Suddenly self-conscious, I smoothed my hands over my navy blue sundress. “Well?”
“Turn around slowly,” she instructed.
Making a small pirouette in the center of the room, the hem flared around my knees.
“Hmm,” she said. “The wider straps are flattering, and it fits well around the bust line. A little cleavage—”
My hand flew to my chest in alarm. “Too much?”
Darci laughed. “No, it’s just right. The dress shows your curves, but it doesn’t look like you’re advertising, if you know what I mean.”
“Are you sure?” My eyes narrowed in doubt. “I don’t want Christopher to get the wrong idea.”
“I’m sure.” Darci tapped her watch. “If you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late.”
Grabbing my purse, I flew down the stairs and out of the house, leaving Darci to lock up behind me.
When I arrived at the restaurant, Christopher was waiting for me by the hostess station.
“You look lovely,” he said with a smile.
He wasn’t a slouch in the looks department, either. He wore camel-colored pants with a light blue shirt and a navy sport coat. There was a definite style about him that spoke of his success.
Nervously, I fiddled with the gold chain I wore around my neck. “Thanks. You look nice, too.”
His smile broadened, and placing a hand in the small of my back, he guided me after the hostess.
Once seated, the hostess handed us our menus. “Would you care for anything to drink?” she asked.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Christopher asked me.
I blanched at his question, remembering my last experience with the stuff. “No, I’d rather have a beer.”
The hostess rattled off a list of what the bar had on tap.
“I’ll have a Bud Light, please.”
Christopher’s eyebrows shot up. “They have imported beers.”
“No, Bud’s fine.” I picked up the menu and studied it while Christopher ordered what sounded like a very expensive glass of wine.
A few minutes later a waitress came with our drinks and took our orders. I selected a small steak, while Christopher ordered the lobster. He tried to convince me to order the same, but I declined.
He picked up his glass and held it toward me. “Here’s to new friendships,” he said in a warm voice, and clinked his glass against mine.
I sipped my beer and felt the tension ease out of my shoulders. Maybe Darci was right—this was a good idea after all.
Setting down my glass, I leaned forward and crossed my arms on the table. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
He hooked an arm over the back of the booth. “Of course not. You can ask me anything.”
How did I ask without sounding like a snoop? I wondered. “Umm, well,” I said, playing with the silverware, “you said you had business dealings with Mr. Buchanan, and I—”
“Wondered what kind of business would involve a doctor and a funeral home director,” he said, finishing for me.
“Yes.”
He traced a finger down the stem of his wineglass. “I’m a co-owner of a biomedical supplier.”
“Biomedical? As in ‘organ donations’?”
“No.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I’d explain, but I don’t know if it’s proper dinner conversation.”
I remembered Aunt Dot’s remark about death being part of life. “Don’t worry about it,” I replied, waving his concern away.
“Okay, without going into details, the best way to describe it would be to say we harvest tissue from the deceased.”
I winced a little at the mental image.
He caught my reaction and patted my hand. “It’s then used for bone transplants, joint replacement, skin grafting, that kind of thing.”
“I didn’t know people did that.”
He patted my hand again. “Yes, and it not only saves lives, but can improve the quality of someone’s life, too. Burn victims, children with heart problems, patients with deteriorating disks in their spines.”
“It’s good people are willing to be donors.”
He smiled. “I think so. Of course, there are guidelines to be followed—and it’s done only with the consent of the family—but as I said, the gift of tissue can really make a difference in someone’s life.” He squeezed my fingers. “Now let’s talk about something more pleasan
t.”
And we did. Through the salads and the main course, Christopher told me amusing stories about his patients, his days in medical school, and his various interests.
By the time I’d finished my second beer, I had the courage to ask him the other question that I’d been pondering.
“At the speed dating event, I think you were the only man there who didn’t try and contact Darci. Why?”
It wasn’t a very subtle way to ask, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Pushing his plate to the side, he held my hand, making lazy circles with his thumb on the inside of my wrist. It made it hard to focus on his answer.
“In my experience, I’ve found brunettes to be more sophisticated.”
Gently pulling my hand away, I leaned against the back of the booth. “That’s a stereotype.”
“Maybe it is, but I’m involved in several business associations, the hospital guild, fund-raisers, and so on. And I do a lot of entertaining. I need a partner who can fit into that kind of life.”
My eyes widened. “And you thought I could?” I asked in shock.
Christopher chuckled. “Yes, that surprises you?” he continued before I could answer. “Whether you know it or not, you strike me as a woman with class, Ophelia.”
“Th-thank you,” I stuttered.
“You’re educated, well-read, and can discuss a number of topics with intelligence.”
“Kind of you to say so,” I mumbled.
Glancing at his watch, he signaled the waitress for our check. Turning to me, he said, “I know you have a drive back to Summerset, but could we continue this conversation at my house? I’d love to show you my home…”
“Ah, gee, ah…” I stumbled trying to think of a proper response. Did I want to go to his place? I didn’t know him that well, but I had enjoyed our conversation up to this point. I was interested. He’d been so kind to Aunt Dot that evening in the emergency room. He was a respected doctor and a businessman and I sensed he was “safe.” Oh, what the heck, why not? Darci had said I needed to get out of my rut. Well, going back to Christopher’s would certainly be out of character for me.
“Okay,” I said, picking up my purse.
“Great,” he replied with a huge grin.
I followed Christopher back to his house, and as I did, left a voice mail on Darci’s cell letting her know where I was going. I might be willing to try something new, but I wasn’t stupid. It was never a good idea to go off with someone you barely knew without telling someone where you were.
After we arrived, he gave me a tour of his house. It was gorgeous—spacious rooms, tall windows overlooking a creek running through his backyard, and a stone fireplace big enough to roast a cow.
He offered me a glass of imported beer, and we settled on the large couch in front of the fireplace. With the touch of a remote, soft music filled the room.
I had a feeling Christopher had done this before.
Smiling to myself, I sipped my beer as I watched the flames leap.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.
“I think you’re a little better at this than I am, Christopher,” I said, placing my beer on the coffee table.
He moved closer to me. “Better at what?”
“This dating thing,” I answered succinctly.
“I have had practice,” he replied, and laughed softly. “A year ago, I finally realized what I’ve missed in my life. I’ve been so focused on establishing my career as a doctor that I didn’t take the time for home and family.” His eyes traveled around the room. “I bought this house and started devoting more time to dating.” He took my hand in his. “But it’s hard finding the right person.”
“I think it takes time, don’t you?”
“Yes, but at our age, I feel like the clock is ticking.” He turned to face me, and reaching up, took a strand of my hair in his fingers. “You have beautiful hair, Ophelia.”
“Umm, thanks,” I said, glancing away.
No one had ever told me that before, and I didn’t know how to take the compliment.
Sensing my discomfort, he gently touched my chin, turning my head toward him, and placed his other arm around me. The next thing I knew, his warm lips were on mine.
Wow, the tingle I’d felt when I first met him shot through me again. Only this time it was way more than a tingle. And as the pressure of his kiss increased, I felt my nervousness melt out of my body. It had been so long since I’d felt the comfort of a man’s arms around me, and this felt so good. My body relaxed against his and I let myself drift on the pleasure of Christopher’s kiss.
A smooth palm stealing up my leg brought me out of the moment and back to reality.
I broke off the kiss and removed his hand from my leg. “Whoa,” I said, still a little befuddled by the intensity of his kiss. “We need to slow down.” I moved away from him.
Without speaking, Christopher raised my hand to his mouth and touched his lips to the soft skin on the underside of my wrist. The feelings flamed again.
“We really don’t know one another, Christopher,” I stammered.
“This is a good way to get acquainted, don’t you think?” he said as I felt his lips move against my wrist.
Man, this guy was good! He had the sparks shooting through me.
Gently, I withdrew my hand. “Christopher, I—”
“Shh,” he said, leaning in to kiss me again. “You are so lovely. Stay the night,” he murmured against my mouth.
Stay the night? Wait a second—how did we go from “let’s get acquainted” to “let’s sleep together”?
Pulling away, I slid farther away from him. “I’m not a booty call,” I exclaimed indignantly.
An injured look appeared on his handsome face. “That’s not what I meant. You’ve been drinking and I don’t want you driving home.”
I eyed the unfinished beer sitting on the coffee table. “I’ve had two beers over the course of the evening. It would take more than that for me to cross the legal limit. I’m fine,” I said with determination.
He raised his hand to touch my face, but I put more distance between us.
“You’re just the kind of woman I’ve been looking for.”
“You don’t know that.” I picked up my purse, just in case I needed it.
“Yes, I do. I can sense these things.”
Yeah? Well I sense things, too, I thought. And I sensed it was time to get the hell out of there.
I stood and looked down at him. “Thanks for the lovely dinner—”
“Don’t leave like this.” He reached for my hand, but I placed it behind my back. “Stay.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Trust me, you’ll respect me more in the morning if I don’t.”
He sat back against the couch and frowned. “That’s an old cliché.”
“Right. Funny thing about old clichés—they’re old clichés because they’re true.”
I spun on my heel and left.
Fifteen
“How was your date?” I heard Tink ask through the receiver of my cell phone.
My lip curled in a silent response. No way would I tell her about Christopher and his grand seduction scheme. “He’s not my type.”
“Really?” she said in surprise. “He was nice to Aunt Dot at the hospital.”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, thinking of how to reply. “Ahh, he’s looking for the perfect wife, and I’m not it.”
“Too bad. Abby’s going to Aiken. May I go?” she asked, shifting the conversation away from Christopher to her.
“Sure. I guess. Why’s Abby going there?”
“Mrs. Walters asked Abby to drive her to the nursing home in Aiken so she could visit her sister.” She took a deep breath. “Something about Mrs. Walters’s car’s in the shop. Aunt Dot’s going, too.”
Hold on, Edna around Aunt Dot? And Tink? Edna would be trying as hard as she could to get the latest dirt out of them.
“You want to spend the afternoon with Edna?”
&n
bsp; “Not really…Mrs. Walters sure asks a lot of questions…but Abby’s going to drop Aunt Dot and me off at the bookstore while they’re at the nursing home. We’re supposed to meet them at the ice cream shop.”
“Do you have any money?”
“A little, but some extra wouldn’t hurt,” she said with a giggle.
“Okay, do you have time to stop by the library on your way?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you don’t, ask Abby if you may borrow some cash from her. I’ll pay her back when I pick you up…but Tink?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t spend it all at the bookstore. Save some for ice cream.”
“Okay.”
“Speaking of the library,” I said as I parked my car, “I’m at work now, so I’ve got to go. I’ll see you when you stop by.”
“Gotcha. Love ya.”
“Love you, too, sweetie,” I said, and flipped the phone shut.
I unlocked the door of the library and breezed through. I stopped in my tracks as my eyes skimmed over the room.
All the returned books were put away, no paper from various notes littered the counter, and all the pens were neatly placed in the pen holder. Maybe Aunt Dot’s fairies had paid a visit during the night and straightened the place up. The library never looked this good first thing in the morning, especially after Darci had worked the afternoon shift the day before.
“Good morning.” The words echoed in the quiet.
Startled, I watched Gert come around the corner of the mystery section. Placing my hand on the reading table, I leaned against it. “You scared me to death.”
A sheepish grin flitted across her face as her fingers curled around the chain at her neck. “Sorry.”
“The door was locked,” I said, pointing to it. “I didn’t think anyone was here.”
“I came in early, but I locked it behind me.” Gert gazed down at the floor. “I wanted to tidy up before we opened. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that’s fine.” I walked behind the counter and dropped my backpack. “Place looks nice, Gert.”
She smiled with pleasure and joined me. Picking up a pile of sticky notes, she handed them to me. “These are for you. Nothing important—just requests to order books from the regional library. I didn’t want to bother you with them yesterday.”
The Witch Is Dead Page 11
