Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1)

by J. A. Menzies

  “And you no doubt expect the guy to make the money.”

  “The guy?”

  “Boyfriend, husband, you know. You do what you enjoy and let him sweat to pay the bills.”

  “You sound bitter.”

  “Going to start analyzing me?”

  “No, of course not.” She finished her lemonade.

  Nick stared off into space for a minute. Finally, he turned to Lorry and smiled. “You know, this isn’t the normal kind of discussion I have with a pretty girl.”

  Lorry returned the smile. “Why don’t you tell me some more about freestyle skiing then? What kind of things do you do?”

  He proceeded to describe his last competition, but although his conversation was as easy as ever, there was a grim look in his eyes.

  Kendall, talking to him an hour later, did notice. They were upstairs in the room they were sharing. Kendall was looking at a car magazine and Nick was stretched out on his bed. “How are you enjoying the weekend?” Kendall asked.

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t sound very positive.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You’ve been with Lorry a fair bit.”

  “I thought you wanted me to keep her busy so your mother wouldn’t get ideas.”

  “Yeah, I do. She’s good-looking, huh?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Well, not in Jillian’s class, maybe, but she’s definitely right up there.”

  “I guess.”

  Kendall studied him silently. “Something on your mind?” he asked at last.

  “Nothing important. Say, about the job, the answer is no. Final.”

  Kendall threw his magazine on the floor. “You know you’re out of your mind?”

  “Forget it. It’s a dead subject.”

  “You won’t even give it a try?”

  “No.”

  “Something wrong with the people?” Kendall’s voice was distant, even defiant.

  “No, of course not. I like your dad, and the other two are okay, I guess. Let’s just say that there’s something wrong with me and leave it at that.”

  “There is. You’re crazy.”

  “Okay.” Nick forced a smile. “But can we still be friends?”

  Kendall hesitated before answering. “Yes, of course. But—well, I thought I was giving you a terrific opportunity.”

  “And I’ve shoved it back in your face? I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. There are dozens of guys out there who would jump to get the chance.”

  Nick sat up. “Hey, come on, Kendall. Don’t get upset.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be upset? I’m watching my best friend destroy his future. It’s as if only half your brain is working.”

  There was silence for a minute. “I guess I’ve got something on my mind.”

  “It’s not Jillian, is it? I’ve seen her looking at you.”

  “No, it’s not Jillian.”

  “Lorry?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  “She isn’t your type.”

  “She’s okay.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Nick laughed. “Thanks a lot!”

  “You know what I mean. She’s my second cousin or something, remember. I know a little about her. Her dad’s a minister for some church in a small town near Edmonton. She may look pretty good, but I’ll bet she’s about as exciting as a door knob.”

  “Not that bad, surely.”

  But Kendall was unable to laugh. “Oh, forget her. I just—”

  “What do you think of Jillian’s sister?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. You’re just trying to change the subject.” Kendall got up and walked out of the room, closing the door a fraction more heavily than necessary.

  Nick lay back on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

  Jillian sat at her vanity brushing her golden hair. From long practice, she worked rhythmically, automatically counting the strokes while humming to herself. At one hundred, she stopped brushing and sat gazing in the mirror for a moment.

  Satisfied, she stood and tied an amber-colored scarf around her hair. Again, she looked in the mirror, craning her neck to see the back of the checked sundress she wore. The one she had picked up at that strange little boutique in Paris.

  She was at the door, her hand on the knob, when a sharp rap made her step back. She bit her lower lip, then opened the door.

  Hildy was standing in the hallway.

  “Well, won’t you come in?” Jillian said, a confident smile curving her lips. “Peter’s somewhere downstairs, so let’s have a cozy chat.”

  Hildy stepped inside and waited until the door was shut. Then, hands on hips, face rigid, she said in a low, even voice, “All right. Just what is this all about?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to know just what you think you’re up to. Stephen is mine. I have custody and you aren’t going to get even one of your dirty little fingers on him.”

  “Won’t you sit down?” Jillian motioned to a chair beside the fireplace. “I think it might be better to discuss this without all the hostility you so obviously feel.”

  “You want hostility? I’ll give you hostility!” Hildy reached into the pocket of her full skirt and pulled out a small revolver. Pointing it at Jillian, she said, “Now you listen to me, you little snake. You touch one hair of my child’s head and I’ll kill you. Understood?”

  Jillian opened her mouth to speak, but Hildy was already going out the door. A wave of intense rage swept over Jillian. Turning blindly, she fell on the bed and began hammering the mattress. Not satisfied with that, she struggled to her feet and picked up the first thing she saw, a large yellow vase filled with flowers. Holding it above her head, she threw it against the door, where it shattered into sharp fragments of pottery, a rainbow of petals, and droplets of water.

  Lorry was sitting beside the pool when Nick came out of the house. “Want to go for a walk?” he asked diffidently. “I’m told there’s a great place behind the house.”

  Nick led the way through the rose garden and a large treed area toward a gate in the wall at the back. He tried to open the gate, but it was locked. Reaching into his pocket, he said, “Not to worry. Mrs. Winston gave me the key.” The gate swung open to reveal a path winding through leafy trees and to a ravine on the left. “Looks okay, huh?” he asked.

  “It’s great.”

  Nick led the way, and for some time they walked along the path in silence, Lorry several steps behind. Finally, Lorry asked, “Is this a race? Should I have worn a number on my back?”

  Nick came to an abrupt halt and laughed self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.”

  “That’s okay.” Lorry caught up to him. “Isn’t this a wonderful location for a house?”

  “Most girls would have asked if I was thinking about them.”

  Lorry laughed. “Do you make a habit of going for walks with girls so you can walk ahead thinking about them?”

  “It does sound a little odd, doesn’t it?”

  They walked on, with Lorry occasionally stopping to examine a tree or exclaim over a wildflower and Nick watching her.

  After about twenty minutes, they came to a grassy spot and Nick sank down against a tree stump. After a moment’s hesitation, Lorry sat nearby.

  Neither spoke at first. Then Nick said, “I was talking to Kendall a while ago. He said you’re not my type.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yeah. He said you’re dull.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you?”

  “Well, I guess some people would say I am.”

  “Different. You’re definitely different.” There was a moment of silence before Nick asked, “How about me? What type am I?”

  “I don’t know you well enough to say.”

  “Come on. From last night and today, what do you think I’m like?”

  “Well, just from what I’ve seen this weekend, I think you’re kind of a moody person. I don�
�t mean that in a negative way. You just often seem to be deep in thought.”

  Nick looked at her in surprise. “You think I’m moody?”

  “Well, maybe it’s just this weekend. It’s kind of a strange setting. For me, it sure is. I don’t know about you.”

  “You’re used to a small town where everybody acts normal, is that it?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that. All people are individuals. But the—I guess I’d have to say, the wealth and the—I don’t know what a good word for it is, maybe social status, is something I’m not used to. I don’t know if you are or not. I only know you’re Kendall’s roommate at law school and you ski.”

  “If you mean did I grow up with the ability to buy everything I wanted, the answer is a definite no. My mother raised me by herself after I was eleven. My father didn’t even pay child support, and my mother’s health was never very good, so we had to rely on her family and on welfare. I put myself through college and law school. But nobody has ever called me moody. If anything, I’m the exact opposite.”

  “The life of the party?”

  “Something like that.”

  “If so, what’s making you act differently this weekend?”

  “Mostly you are.”

  “Me? You don’t even know me.”

  “No, I don’t. And according to Kendall you aren’t my type, either. Which I assume crosses over to mean I’m not your type.”

  She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t think so.”

  “Do you have somebody special back in Alberta?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.”

  Something in Nick’s voice made Lorry say, “Boy, I’m thirsty. It’s so hot. We were crazy to come without getting a thermos. I can taste Mrs. Winston’s lemonade.” She got to her feet. “Coming?”

  Nick had a half-smile on his face. “All right,” he said as he got up to follow her. “But I will bring up the subject again.”

  Supper had been planned for seven so there would be plenty of time afterwards for those who wished to go to a nearby nightclub. By six-thirty, Jillian was already well into her preparations. About the same time, Lorry and Nick finished a close game of tennis and returned to the house, laughing. Nick was complaining that the only reason the match was close was because Lorry had been taking it easy on him. Peter, who was having a martini at the bar, told them they’d better get a move on or they’d be late. Then he called Nick back. “What’ll you have?”

  “You just told me to hurry.”

  “You’ve got time for one drink. I expect you can shower and change in fifteen minutes. Not like the ladies, who have to arrange every eyelash just right.”

  Nick laughed and took a stool. “Scotch then. On the rocks. Not much.”

  “Kendall says you’ve definitely decided not to join us.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Not a very wise decision. From my viewpoint, at least.”

  Nick sipped his drink. “Well, that’s the way it is. Let’s just say I’m not in a mood for making a long-term commitment.”

  “It’s your life,” Peter said. “Perhaps I’m being a little smug, but our firm strikes me as not having anything to apologize for, so if you turn it down, I can only assume you have a few rocks in your head as well as in your glass. Nothing personal. Just the observation of a successful lawyer to one who seems to be turning down the chance of his life. Another drink?”

  “I should be getting ready for dinner.” Nick stood, but didn’t move. “Look, Mr. Martin, you shouldn’t think I don’t appreciate being offered a place in your firm. I do. But maybe I do have a few rocks in my head as you suggest. I just don’t feel right about it. Maybe I can’t see myself in a pinstripe suit sitting behind a desk. Sometimes I even wonder why on earth I ever got into law in the first place. I’m a lot more at home skiing down a mountain, I’ll tell you.”

  “You could afford quite a few ski holidays on the money you’d make.”

  Nick laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He paused for a moment. Then, “To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised you even offered me the job. Kendall I understand. But I’m not a relative and I was nowhere near the top of the class.”

  “As you say, Kendall’s a relative. And he did very well. There’s no question of his going elsewhere. And he’s steady. He’ll do okay. As for you, when Kendall asked us to offer you the job, I have to admit I wasn’t too pleased. But George likes you, and he’s a pretty good judge of people, so Douglass and I went along. But now I’ve had a chance to get to know you, I have to admit there’s something I like about you. Maybe even your turning us down. It shows you’re either stupid or unique, and I don’t think you’re stupid. In fact, I expect you could have been at the top of your class if you’d wanted to.”

  “Thanks for the compliment. But since you’re dressed and I’m not, I’d better get a move on. I doubt if Ellen will think I’m unique if I keep dinner waiting. I’ll see you later.”

  Nick turned and hurried up the stairs, taking them effortlessly, two at a time.

  By 7:02, all but four of the members of the house party were seated in the living room, waiting the formal call to the dinner table. Nick had been the last to come in, moments behind Douglass and Anne, who bore the appearance of a couple who had recently finished an argument. Or perhaps not finished.

  Nick sat on a chair next to Lorry’s, but since she was talking to Kendall, on her other side, he contented himself with watching her profile.

  Ellen spoke in a whisper to her husband. “Bart said not to wait for him and Shauna. He wasn’t sure when they would be back. I can’t understand what he’s up to. He asked for my car, and, of course, Shauna was with him so I couldn’t very well say no. But I would sure like to know where they were going. She looked scared stiff, but not of Bart, I don’t think. She reminds me of a frightened rabbit.”

  George wasn’t very interested. Bart needed money from him. It was highly unlikely that he would do anything stupid, especially with someone like Shauna. “I’m sure she’s okay.” He went over to talk to Douglass and Anne, and Ellen, remembering her role as hostess, went to see if Hildy wanted a fresh drink.

  Conversation was flowing when Douglass glanced at the doorway and his words froze on his lips. Anne and George followed his gaze. Soon the entire room was still, watching a vision in a Paris original enter the room. Jillian’s golden hair and tawny skin were framed in fluttering soft peach, cut very low and accented by a spectacular diamond pendant hanging from a glittering gold chain. Her movements were graceful and poised as she floated into the room; her laughter delightful as she said over her shoulder to Peter, “Now do you think this dress was worth the price?”

  George and Kendall both jumped up to escort her to dinner.

  Douglass also made an involuntary movement, then paused as his wife’s hand grasped his wrist and her icy eyes met his.

  Jillian looked around the room. “Where’s Shauna?” she asked.

  “She went out with Bart.” Ellen’s voice was apologetic. “I’m sure they’ll be back soon, but they did say not to wait supper for them. So I guess we can go in.”

  “That little—!” Jillian began, her eyes flashing.

  Peter laughed. Jillian glared at him before taking George’s arm and leading the others to the dining room.

  Kendall turned to escort Hildy.

  Lorry looked up to find Nick waiting for her. At first glance, he appeared to be the only man in the room not drawn by Jillian’s magnetism. Yet Lorry was quite certain Jillian had looked at Nick when she made her entrance into the room. And that he’d noticeably stiffened.

  They were finishing the first course when they heard a door shut and voices move toward the dining room. Bart’s and Shauna’s voices. Mrs. Winston’s daughter, Crystal, who had been doing the serving, hurried to the kitchen to get the appetizers that had been set aside.

  Eleven pair of eye
s stared as Bart entered the room followed by a striking woman with a glowing face, a short pixieish hairdo, and a dramatic black-and-white dress, off the shoulder on the white side, long sleeved on the black, slit from the knee in front.

  The silence became more pronounced as, one by one, the members of the house party realized this stranger had to be Shauna.

  Peter was the first to find his voice. “Well, this is a surprise. Shauna, you look absolutely—dazzling. I had no idea…”

  “It doesn’t look a bit like me, does it?” the woman said softly. Her dark eyes shone with pleasure.

  “You look wonderful,” Ellen commented smoothly. “There are two places here if you haven’t eaten yet.”

  The two moved around the table and Bart made a point of holding Shauna’s chair and making sure she had everything she needed before he sat beside her. Then his eyes traveled around the table, stopping as they reached Jillian, whose icy glare momentarily disconcerted even him. After a moment, his eyes defiantly meeting hers, he laughed.

  Until Crystal began to clear plates and bring in salads, there was an uneasy silence, broken only as Bart began to ask how everyone’s day had gone. He was clearly enjoying himself, and, slowly, the dinner party loosened up and people chattered once more, though later few could remember what the talk was about.

  When the delicious food had been eaten, and the wine drunk, Jillian announced that she wanted to go dancing. Her voice soft and teasing, she leaned toward Kendall and asked him if he would like to take her since she had chosen his father over him to escort her in to supper.

  Kendall blushed and stammered something about how Peter might not like it.

  “Oh, Petey doesn’t mind, do you, Petey? He hates dancing just after he eats. Who else will come? Douglass? You’ll come, won’t you? George? Get your wives to come. Nick? I know you love dancing, don’t you, darling? I’ll just get a wrap. Shauna, why don’t you help me?” She glided out of the room, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Shauna followed.

  The others began to organize into those who wanted to go dancing and those who didn’t. By the time Jillian returned, Kendall and George had their car keys out and Douglass had persuaded Anne to go with him and George and Ellen.