by Judith Mehl
Some of the athletes at the tournament today had painstakingly pieced together their points, starting in the lowliest, the Central American cluster, where hopes were that the competition would be weak and the points easier to grasp. In these tournaments they could hone their skills, gain consistency, and deeper balls, and strengthen a faltering confidence. Those playing in this tournament knew it with every twang of their racquet and every sit-up during daily training. For some, the travel, the camaraderie, and enough money to cover their expenses were the ultimate end. For others, cracking 200 points was just the beginning. Kat understood and contributed what she could to make the tournament enjoyable for them.
Countless offerings of greasy food booths, not a useful calorie among them, lined the path by the stadium. She barely repressed the urge to stop and taste. With luck, her husband, Nick, would arrive soon and they could find an empty table and imbibe together. There wasn’t a french fry Nick didn’t like. She pressed her way through to the second court to catch a glimpse of the match.
One of the players swiped the wristband across his furrowed brow, more in disgust at his play than in sweaty need. He tugged the shoulder of his shirt up on each serve, but the cloth hung tenaciously to every sinew in his biceps.
Kat didn’t recognize him. She studied the scruffy physique, the apparently permanent stubble on his cheeks, and the damp headband restraining his long hair from obstructing his view. His play appeared unaffected as he served the final game of the match. He pinched the racquet strings together in concentration; mirroring his mental alignment before the match point.
Groups swarmed down the bleachers, leaving to find victory drinks or foods of solace depending on their chosen player, but it didn’t stop a whisper here or there of Ambrose’s death. Thinking of him triggered a memory for Kat of a few days ago when she overheard him arguing with Lauri, his supposed fiance. The couple slipped into an alcove beneath the stands during preliminary practice before the tournament officially began. They were fortunately away from any crowds, since they argued loudly. Kat was glad they hadn’t seen her—more embarrassed for them then for herself. Had they lost their senses? This was such a public place to air differences.
Lauri’s shouts filtered out of the alcove and Kat stood guard, grateful no reporters were around to catch their words. Any argument the manager had during a tournament seemed grist for the newsman’s mill, as Kat had discovered when Ted Wright accused Ed of undermining his career by making derisive comments to the media the night before. The strength of the argument wound down and Kat moved away rather than risk being caught eavesdropping.
She’d stepped away from the alcove as Ed came bursting out. She remembered his angry glance, as he smoothed back his shaggy hair, and strode away with a shout over his shoulder, “Get lost, Everitt!”
Lauri, obviously in defeat, slunk away, a strand of blond hair hung limply past her brow, swinging with every agitated movement of her head.
Today Nick appeared at the bleachers and she headed toward him. She would analyze later the effect the argument could have had on Lauri. She could tell the minute Nick noticed her in the crowd. His blue eyes deepened, and admired her long legs, set off to advantage in the brief white skirt topped with an emerald halter to match her eyes. One of the perks of running publicity in the summertime for the tournament was casual dress. Kat was happy for the opportunity to wear her new sandals. Nick said he admired they way they highlighted her feet. The brand didn’t matter to him. She knew he just loved the straps around her ankle. What more could you ask of a shoe?
She smiled widely in return when he reached her, grateful that Nick had entered and stayed in her life. He’d crashed into it in the middle of a murder investigation last year, causing heart palpitations on more than one level. The tall, handsome man matched wits with her as they fell in love, though for a while she worried that he could be the killer. As they parried back and forth, weaving a pattern of trust and love, they solved the mystery and caught the killer.
Nick had been peering into a dark hole within himself when she’d met him. Their instant rapport and Kat’s lighthearted attitude towards life came after he left a dangerous job with the Defense Intelligence Agency. Mental and physical wounds healed. Their coming together served as a pivotal point in both their lives. He provided her the love and stability she needed and she in turn had brought freshness and sunshine to his soul.
A wave of happiness washed over her as she smiled at him, then frowned, as she saw the rusty stains on his shirt. He glanced down where she was staring. The look in her eyes made it clear he wasn’t going to pass it off as ketchup, so he laughed and raised his hands in surrender.
“Nick, are you all right?”
“It’s not as bad as it looks, really!”
As she clutched his arm and glanced inquiringly, he started to mumble about it all being in a day’s work. Kat smiled inwardly at how easy it was to prompt men into explanations. It was all in the nature of that vulnerable little frown. As they walked towards the food vendors, she wondered how long she should let him go on.
In reality, she knew his work at the exclusive investigation agency was often dangerous, but she’d become reconciled with the idea, especially after seeing how well he could handle himself. The agency that he and his best friend owned, Petingill and Donnelly Security, had brought him pride, and peace with the idea that he could make an honorable living out of work that he enjoyed while providing security for someone he loved.
He settled her into a chair at a small table away from the vendors. She smiled and her eyes lit up. When Nick caught the twinkle he laughed. “You weren’t worried at all!”
She giggled carelessly and stretched her legs out under the table. “Well, I am becoming concerned over our laundry bills, but you’re obviously in good health.”
He studied the food booth signs, contemplating which poison to order. “Sorry about the mess. I would have gone home to change first but then I would have been late meeting you.”
Nick observed Kat as she pondered her choice for lunch. She had the poise and self-confidence of the only female in a 20-member band. The straight back, the subtle smile, the slender fingers all enhanced the image. He rose, knowing any romantic ideas would fare better when she was well fed.
As he zeroed in on the gyro booth, she followed his line of sight and said, “You may be bloody but you’re obviously unbowed, so I’m leaving my weary feet right here. You can bring home the bacon. Anything in that booth looks good.”
He rose to fetch the food, slowing as he passed the cheeseburgers but finally returned to his first choice. He doubled his order, knowing Kat would want the same succulent lamb that he had, though she tended to like it more when she could snitch little bites from his. He marveled at how well their food tastes had meshed, considering her leanings toward nutritious food, and his towards pure junk.
Nick handed her a large bottle of juice with her gyro and added a quick kiss on the cheek before he sat down. Kat tucked in. She moaned in delight as she took her first taste. She didn’t settle back until half the gyro was gone.
He gulped his in even less time and zeroed in on the end booth, which featured dozens of heavenly concoctions. Knowing Kat’s downfall was chocolate he figured he’d better be armed with a bribe before they continued the conversation. She laughed when she saw the peace offering.
“It’s okay, Nick. We agreed your clothing and laundry come out of your budget. If I don’t have to scrub them or replace them, I don’t grouse about them.”
He attempted to whisk away the chocolate. “Well, then, if I don’t need to bribe you I guess I’ll find someone else to eat this.”
Kat rose, grabbed the luscious piece of chocolate cake and sat back down in one smooth movement. “I think you have enough blood on your shirt for now. Let me tell you about my day!”
She quickly provided a summary of the discovered body and subsequent problems, and voiced concern over the effect this would have on Lauri Carmichael. K
at knew that Lauri was madly in love with Ed. Others tried to tell her that Ed wasn’t capable of commitment, and had a roving eye as well. They’d tried and failed. Lauri either ignored the message, or made excuses for him.
After studying his handwriting once Kat declared, “Triple-looped ovals are a sign of secrecy or deceit, and Ed’s writing circled all over the place.”
Lauri apparently judged men by different standards than Kat.
Kat preferred hers human and humane. Lauri would now be alone, as all had predicted, but never in quite this way.
Nick had met Ed but she filled her husband in on the relationship and her distress over Lauri. “When the man wasn’t traveling with the tournament he lived in the area, mostly mooching off of Lauri. Since this was the start of a four-week circuit, he had been free the last couple of weeks.” She scanned the area to make sure no one was listening. “Whenever he could, he would come back, supposedly check on his financial interests and look up old acquaintances. He always made sure he dropped names of some of the latest tennis greats as if they were close friends.”
She nibbled on the diminishing cake and added. “He’d been running these low-level tournaments for years. I doubt whether he even knew some of the top players. They didn’t usually have time for this round of play.”
Nick stole a bite of her cake. “How good is his tennis?”
“Although only in his early 40s, he was past his prime physically and certainly hadn’t played tennis recently.”
Learning to visualize people’s personalities by their handwriting, Kat wasn’t surprised that Ed had a large middle zone (the area of letters that sits on the line). He also had an extreme rightward slant, revealing potential for impulsiveness and emotional outbursts. She told Nick so, knowing he respected her analysis techniques.
He asked, “Do you think Lauri thought they were going to get hitched?”
Kat shook her head as she moved the last piece of cake around the plate before demolishing it. “I think in her head, she hoped it.” She felt sorry for Lauri, a highly intelligent faculty member with a Ph.D. who spent lone hours in the library and in her home greenhouse. Though not unbecoming, she apparently had little common sense when it came to men. Kat knew the woman was one of many professors who’d fallen into the same trap. They dedicated their all to building a career and then found their personal life lacking. Many of their colleagues were married and divided precious time between husband, children, and friends. Academics were open to large, mixed groups more than most, but friends still frequently met in small gatherings of couples where Lauri alone might feel uncomfortable. Maybe she clung to Ed in desperation.
The ringing of her cell phone broke into the conversation. Rescue workers were successfully pulling several stranded students off a ledge near the Appalachian Trail. Would Kat go and make sure the news coverage was the best spin possible? Nick’s job involved blood sometimes, while hers spearheaded solutions to emergencies. This was one of those times. Kat excused herself and raced to her car, plotting her approach as she followed the directions Tom Edberg provided. He didn’t ask for much. Make a disaster hike sound like a picnic. All part of the job.
Some universities weren’t so lucky, but Mountain View, with its choice location in the Pocono Mountains, enticed students to enjoy the scenery and the habitat. The Delaware Water Gap, often considered the gateway to the Poconos, is revered as a vacation paradise, with endless hills, fall foliage, and abundant waterfalls. For some students, the university provided a classy education in an outdoor environment with plenty of sports opportunities.
She realized some students took solace in idyllic hikes through the slopes matted with deer berries, low-bush blueberries, and tranquility. For many, it added adventure and a love of country to their education. To a few, it challenged beyond their capabilities.
She arrived on the scene, switched her sandals for the comfortable pink sneakers always stowed in her trunk, climbed the steep terrain and calmed the students. The most lethal injury required only a small bandage, but from the jerky breathing of the two least experienced climbers, Kat suspected the evening’s agenda included friends and wine. Seconds later the TV vans pulled up, but she’d had enough time to put a charming angle on the six o’clock news.
Chapter 4
Rounded letters and large spaces between can be a sign of adaptability. It can reveal someone kind-hearted and amiable or one susceptible to influence.
“Handwriting—Revelation of Self” by Dr. Herry O. Teltscher
The deep blue sky and bold sun of late morning turned the trees into emeralds and the flowers into gemstones, confirming Kat’s decision that a walk around campus would calm her before dealing with the tournament and the ramifications of death. Today, the mountainous skyline, butterflies, and the earthy scent of clean wooded parks nearby underscored the advantage of campus life in the Poconos. For a few minutes, anyway. A frantic SOS call from Glinna Faraday interrupted her stroll and had her rushing across the asphalt lot to her car.
Glinna, a practitioner of the ancient art of herbalism, ranked as a loving friend and potent businesswoman. She was also as kooky as they come, but never an alarmist. Her frenzied call for Kat to hasten immediately to her shop, The Apothecary, signaled a serious problem. Glinna owned the chic herbal shop in town. She’d opened years earlier, when herbs were used by country midwives and natural healers, and rode the renaissance of herbalism into a successful, thriving business. Today, herbs served not only as commonplace ingredients in cosmetics and health foods, but herbal healing was recognized as a complimentary approach in conjunction with Western medical practices. Sales soared and Glinna flowed in on the current.
Kat stopped impatiently at the red light, wondering what had disturbed Glinna so much that she’d called her away from the tennis tournament. She zipped into a parking place and ran to the store. The front display window shown in the sunlight, unaware or unable to reveal the apparent danger from within.
Her bouncy curls awry, Glinna grabbed Kat’s arm as she walked slowly through the door while waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
“What? What happened? Are you all right?”
“I am now; he just left. Did you see him?”
Kat whirled around and looked out the door. “Who?”
Glinna crowded behind her, peeking around the doorway until she could see the sidewalk. The man she’d been referring to was no where in sight.
“I’m sorry Kat. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. He was here at least an hour and didn’t say a word. Just looked up and down the aisles frowning at the displays.”
Kat waited, assuming there was more.
Glinna swung her arms in frustration. “Well, I’d find him staring at me through the shelves when he thought I wasn’t looking.”
In a sleek navy blue suit and black heels in contrast to Kat’s skirt and sandals, Glinna walked slowly toward her back office, clutching her friend’s arm. They worked their way past rows of aromatic loose herbs in sparkling glass jars, soothing oils, and herbal lotions. Kat never hesitated to buy herbs from her friend’s store when she needed to supplement those she grew herself. Other rows boasted a wide selection of herbs in convenient-sized bottles, aromatherapy oils, and an alcove of herbal books. Kat could browse for hours, and had. She especially enjoyed the book area espousing foods or herbs that heal. She’d spent many a paycheck in this store, and many a pleasant hour discussing the information the herbalist had acquired over the years. The product and display colors reminded Kat of wildflowers, with the muted hues of a natural garden rather than the vibrant bursts of color in an annual bed.
“What did he look like?” she asked, turning her mind from the soothing display.
“He looked sinister. He was so silent, brooding almost, with those dark eyes and a perpetual scowl. It could have been that guy, what’s-his-name? The one who opened the health food store over on Fourth Street?”
“I’ve seen him. What a hunk. If you thought you knew him,
why didn’t you talk to him? Ask him what he was doing?”
Kat settled into a chair in front of the desk, careful not to block the woman’s view of the front door. Always a businesswoman first, Glinna wasn’t about to let a little scare stop her from attending to customers.
She poured them herbal tea, this one with a heavenly scent of blackberries, and sat on the edge of the desk.
“I was afraid to. What if it wasn’t him? Besides, he was dressed all in black. He looked ominous. If it was him, he should have introduced himself to me.”
“I don’t recall meeting him. How long has he been in town?”
“About a month,” Glinna said, fidgeting with the wide variety of herbal teas in her office stash.
Kat wondered what was involved in this herbal stalking but kept her thoughts in check for the moment. Glinna Faraday’s outward appearance was polished and sophisticated, prompted by years of learning that her physical demeanor affected the success of her business. Inside she was still a fragile wildflower, fearful of being crushed. The town was usually so safe, she doubted if the man was as sinister as Glinna described, and didn’t want to encourage her fears. On the other hand, she’d just left a murder scene and the police so far had no strong suspects. Who knew where the killer may be?
As a close friend, Kat knew to consider her words carefully and to follow the most composed path for now. She offered a noncommittal comment to test the waters. “If he’s new in town maybe he was just trying to decide what products to buy for himself.”
“If he needed anything, he could buy it wholesale through his own store. What if he’s trying to run me out of business?”
Kat sipped her tea and tried to soothe Glinna’s concerns. “He wouldn’t be that great a businessman if he set up a shop similar to yours in this small town. Doesn’t that shop specialize in organically grown foods?”
Her friend nodded hesitantly, wondering where the question was leading.
