Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  “I’d really like your company.” He glanced into the bottom of his mug while he organized his thoughts. How do you explain relationships of a lifetime in a sentence or two? “Joe Larson, his wife, and the rest of the family are decent people. I’ve never quarreled with any except Daniel.”

  “How many of the locals know about the arrest?”

  “All of them.” He walked to the coffee maker and returned with the carafe. “Instant communication is a hallmark of small towns like Crystal Springs. It’s as fast as the Internet and about as accurate.”

  “Then maybe we should put in an appearance at the local tavern. I don’t want it rumored that you married a two-headed crone for money.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Mona set the last of the empty gas cans in the van and walked toward the farm house. Twilight masked the flaws Linc pointed out during an introduction earlier in the day. The need for a new coat of paint and the mismatch of shingles where emergency repairs had been made blended into shadows. It’s a grand house. With two stories, two full baths, and four bedrooms it was larger than anything she’d lived in. Even the place they rented years ago, when her dad lived with them—three small bedrooms, one bath, and a screened porch—paled aside this one.

  Will I ever live in it? She swallowed hard, trying again to banish the fear that the county prosecutor would continue with the murder charges. In the daylight she realized that Daryl Frieberg and Clarence White had asked questions and looked in all the right places to find evidence to clear them. Then every night visions of jail and separation from Linc intruded. By morning her pillowcase wore a damp spot from tears. So far she’d not been able to decide if she cried for Linc, Matt, or herself.

  “What are you thinking?” Linc walked up to within an arm’s length.

  Touch me. Come closer and hold me. She held in a sigh and resisted the magnetic pull to initiate touch. All day, since he prepared bacon and pancakes for Saturday breakfast until this minute, she’d made a conscious effort to limit contact to a few touches of their hands. She ached for the affection in his touch at the same time she feared it. She laced her fingers, risked a glance at her ring, and then looked at the back steps. “I’m admiring the house. How old is it?”

  “The core was built in the nineteen twenties. My grandparents hired the last major remodel in the seventies.”

  “It’s a lot of house for two people.”

  “We could rent out rooms. Or fill them with children.”

  She backed away a step. Children? In a business arrangement? With felony charges dangling in the air? “You’re forgetting something.”

  “Maybe.” He closed the distance between them in one easy move before reaching out to caress her cheek. “We can always renegotiate the terms of our marriage. After …” He brushed his thumb along her jaw soft as new grass. “If you want.”

  If I want. She sealed her lips. If she spoke from her heart at a time like this, when her body longed for him, which added up to twenty-three hours plus every day, disaster would follow. She looked down at the grass-stained toes of her sneakers in an attempt to blot out the recurring image of a near naked Linc at her bedroom door. “We have time. Didn’t Mr. White say the repeat title search and other paperwork would take several weeks?”

  “He did.”

  She sighed before reaching up and caging his wrist with one hand. Millimeter by millimeter she brought his hand close and kissed the palm. Smooth and firm with a trace of salt, she filed the sensation next to their few kisses. She raised her gaze to his eyes and stared for a long moment. “Are you afraid of me?”

  He shook his head. “Me. Once I started I don’t think I could stop.”

  “I’ve never seen myself as a temptress.” She lowered their hands and released him. This man, her husband, stirred her emotions at blender puree speed. In rational moments she viewed him as a new acquaintance, a friend who responded well to questions of orchards or his family. All it took was his touch on her arm, or a look across a small space, to stir her hormones like a whisk going through eggs. Her body wanted him close. Her common sense told her to resist him. Their fairy tale would vanish like the stray white clouds decorating the sky. Too many complications littered her life. Paying medical bills and getting justice for Matt should matter more than whether Linc found her attractive enough for another kiss.

  “You need a new mirror.” He turned toward the van. “Come on, I think Jack’s got a pizza waiting for us.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mona scanned the tavern patrons as the server walked away with their order. “Not as busy tonight. Not like last time.”

  Linc sat stiff, with an expression of uncertainty. “I think a crowd is up the street. Daryl mentioned he’d be playing at a wedding today. Legion Hall’s popular for the reception.”

  She nodded while rubbing her arms. The atmosphere was chill, and not from the air conditioner humming in the background. Not one person nodded or spoke a word of greeting to Linc when they walked in. The bartender watched them with a strict professional eye. Is this Crystal Springs shunning? “Maybe I’m disappointing the locals by not wearing prison orange.”

  “Hey.” He reached across the table and trapped her hand under his larger one. “Where’s your courage? Did you leave it on the bus to Polk Street?”

  “I’d rather plead sleep-deprived.” Did he have the mirror image of her problem each night: lying for what seemed like hours in the dark, listening for a whisper of invitation from the other side of the wall? How many nights in a row had she drifted off with images in her mind of Linc sprawled across his bed? She broke their physical connection as the server set down two large mugs of root beer.

  “To us?” He lifted his mug toward her.

  “To an adventure in rural living?” Her first swallow of cool, sweet root beer took long enough for her to make a decision. I’ll act. Let the locals draw their own conclusions. By the time she centered her mug on the cardboard coaster her small smile became genuine.

  “I’ve an idea for your next driving lesson.”

  “Shouldn’t I get a permit first?” She hid a hand on her lap and clenched the fingers at the memory of her terrible minutes behind the wheel of the van today. At least on the tractor her main worry was the portion of the vehicle in front, not behind, the driver’s seat.

  Linc shrugged. “Technicality you’ll take care of before next weekend.”

  He’s more confident in my ability than I am. “Question for you. Why did you count and name insects this afternoon?”

  “The ones in my trap?” He waited for her to nod. “Need to know when to spray. And for which pests. I’d like to think I’m a responsible orchardist. Chemicals are necessary for a consistent, even crop. But then again,” he said, and leaned toward her, “it would be a waste of time and money, plus bad for the environment, to spray poison for a problem that wasn’t present. Make sense?”

  “When you put it that way.” Mona moved her mug and smiled at both the server and the pizza. She managed to identify three spices but paused as something unexpected blended in. Fennel? “Smells delicious.”

  “Jack makes his own sauce. Refuses to give out the recipe.” Linc teased out the first wedge and maneuvered it to a plate.

  “You’ve asked?”

  He handed her the full plate and slid out another piece. “No. My pizza starts frozen. Kathy asks for his recipe every few months.”

  “So my position as cook is secure?” She followed the first burning bite of supper with a swallow of root beer.

  “Definitely.”

  Mona hid her mouth behind her mug as Corey Maxwell entered and strode toward the bar. Is he sober? Will he make a scene? She forced down another bite of pizza.

  “Good to see you, neighbor.” Corey grasped a beer in one hand and clapped Linc’s shoulder with the other.

  Linc glanced up and swallowed in a hurry. “Same. Do you remember Mona?”

  “Somewhat. You are a pretty little thing.” Corey downed a quarter of his drink. “Ca
me over to offer an apology. Afraid I made a bad first impression the other day. Do that sometimes. When the alcohol gets ahold of me.”

  “Are you feeling better, Mr. Maxwell?”

  “Much. Name’s Corey.”

  She pulled off a section of crust and debated inviting him to join them. “Have you talked to your wife? Patti?”

  “Couple of times. When I was sober. Matter of fact, the two of us managed a decent phone conversation just this morning.” Corey continued rattling on about the call for another full minute with pauses only long enough for one-word responses. Then without warning he announced that his dog was pregnant and they were welcome to a puppy when the time was right.

  “I’ll think on the dog offer.” Linc gestured to the remaining half pizza. “Have you eaten?”

  “Don’t want to interrupt anything.”

  “You won’t.” Mona handed him one of her extra napkins to use as a plate. She was still digesting the change in Corey from quiet but flirty drunk to chatterbox when he broached a new subject.

  “Do you think you’ll be keeping that generator in the barn?” Corey moved pizza while aiming the question at Linc.

  “Didn’t know about one. Joe Larson might have a claim on it.”

  “Sheriff still has the tape across the barn doors,” Mona observed.

  “That so?” Corey signaled the server for another round of drinks.

  Linc hesitated as if hunting down the right words. “Did you visit Daniel in the lab often?”

  “Couple of times.” Corey took a big bite and chewed with a smile. “Mmmm. Triple meat and secret sauce. Nothing finer with Leinnies.”

  “Tell me about this generator. How did he vent it?”

  “Big old hose, size of a dryer vent, out the window. Snaked out there six feet or more. Kept the top door open, too. And you know old barns. They leak air up, down, and sideways.” He snatched his drink up and saluted Linc. “Safe. Daniel was strict about certain things. Person would have thought he did serious research the way he kept all the equipment clean and wrote down all his results. Now they say he was supplying street drugs to a gang up in the Cities. Generator ran noisy. I’m thinking it might come in handy if we have an ice storm. Keep my well and a little heat going.”

  Mona clasped her hands in her lap. It didn’t sound a bit safe to her.

  “Startled poor Daniel out of his wits once when I walked in and he was writing in that notebook of his.”

  “He kept a record book?” Mona tipped her head in doubt. What sort of criminal, and certainly a chemist manufacturing illegal drugs qualified, kept written records?

  “Yes, ma’am. Always at the end of his main work table.”

  “What did he write?” Linc sipped from his second drink.

  “Not sure. Saw numbers and chemical formula stuff once. Last time I walked in he was writing a paragraph of something or other.”

  She leaned into Corey’s space. In all of the photos both the detective and lawyer displayed to her, no sort of binder or pad appeared. “Describe the book.”

  “It wasn’t fancy.” Corey looked at her and got thoughtful. “Speckled cover. My daughter used one like it in science class. Recorded her experiments. Teacher insisted it be a bound book. Why?”

  Mona eased back as Corey breathed beer fumes in her direction. “I’m just trying to understand the late Daniel Larson. I’m thinking he took his science seriously.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mona’s stomach churned in time to the ceiling fans above her. What did it mean—an additional hearing—new information? She shifted on the spectator bench and studied the prosecutor stacking files on his table beyond the aged wood rail. She rubbed at gooseflesh on her arms at the realization of the power the one ordinary man represented for her and Linc.

  “Hey,” Linc whispered and touched her hand. “We’re in this together.”

  She nodded and lifted her gaze to his eyes. At the moment they showed him as friendly, kind, and concerned about their fates. Before she could speak a word the side door opened and the first defendant was escorted into the courtroom. Basil. She swallowed back the lump of surprise. The assault charges were filed in a different county. Could the man’s non-stick coating be wearing thin?

  Bright yellow prison scrubs with Hennepin Co. stenciled across the back and shackles on wrists and ankles replaced Basil’s usual dark clothing and arrogant stance. He glanced in Mona’s direction without a trace of his previous smug expression.

  Stay calm. He can’t hurt me here. A tingle of cold fear for Matt traveled across her neck. Could he—would he—had he ordered more harm to her brother?

  Linc’s touch on her arm moved her attention to the second prisoner, now taking a seat in the jury area.

  They’ve arrested Corey Maxwell. Did he brag about trespassing at the crime scene? Or is this something more? Mona held her gaze on him as their farm neighbor rested arms on thighs for only a moment and then moved his fingers in small, restless circles.

  “Did you have something to do with this?” She leaned toward Linc.

  “A word to Daryl,” he replied. “I didn’t know what would come of it.”

  She crossed her fingers for good luck.

  “Good afternoon.” Clarence White eased next to Linc.

  An instant later the bailiff called the court into session and everyone stood.

  Mona leaned forward and listened carefully to catch the quiet exchange between Basil, his lawyer, and the prosecutor when they gathered in front of the judge’s bench.

  “For the charge of second-degree reckless homicide, how do you plead?”

  “Not guilty,” Basil’s lawyer spoke for him.

  Three more charges followed. Mona heard enough of the subdued exchanges to understand they related to tampering with a crime scene and destroying evidence. Again Basil pled “not guilty” through his attorney. Then they volleyed bail and conditions. In the end, Basil was denied bail and ended up in custody of Hennepin County, Minnesota pending his next court appearance in River County, Wisconsin.

  Mona studied her clenched hands and conquered the urge to bolt from the room before Basil made eye contact. He caused this mess. How many innocent people has he gotten arrested?

  “Maxwell versus the State of Wisconsin.” The clerk announced the next case, complete with the numbers defining jurisdiction and other details understood only by lawyers.

  “Fool.” Mr. White muttered as Corey Maxwell and the prosecutor took their places before the judge. “Where’s his attorney?”

  “Do you have legal representation, Mr. Maxwell?” The judge leaned forward with a pen in his hand.

  “No, Your Honor. Not at this time.”

  Mona turned her attention to Mr. White. He held up three fingers and mumbled. She caught the words “Maxwell” and “conflict of interest.”

  “I plead not guilty to all charges, your honor.” Corey looked straight ahead and ran all the words together.

  “The court accepts your plea, Mr. Maxwell.” The judge waved one finger at the prosecutor as if reminding him to stay silent. “You are remanded to the county jail until such time as you retain or are assigned legal services. Next case.”

  Mona tapped Linc’s wrist and whispered. “The tavern conversation?”

  “The generator, local rumors, and … later.” He nodded as the clerk stood to read the next case number.

  Mona held her chin high and focused on the national flag behind the judge as she crossed the courtroom. The gentle, steady footsteps of Linc and Mr. White followed until they stood in a tidy row with the prosecutor in front of the elevated desk.

  “Your Honor,” the prosecutor began. “In the interest of justice and in light of new evidence brought to the attention of my office, the state requests all charges in the cases of Mary Smith and Lincoln Dray be dismissed.”

  Mona dared not to breathe. What if the spell shattered? She half expected a television drama director to call out a command.

  “Defense concurs.”
Mr. White spoke clearly, projecting his voice for any spectator to understand without straining.

  New evidence. A rumor? Mona remained still and focused on the judge’s face as he spoke the formalities of dropping the charges and a final word about collecting their bail. She sealed her lips as a bubble and shout of joy threatened to burst out as the judge tapped his gavel.

  “We can go.” Linc’s voice in her ear and a nudge on her shoulder propelled her into motion.

  • • •

  Linc paused two steps beyond the courthouse door and tugged Mona beside him, toward a concrete urn filled with bright petunias. “Do you smell it?”

  “What?” She paused beside him and took a deep breath. “I feel a summer day. Warm air with a tinge of diesel.”

  He glanced at an eighteen-wheeler belching a complaint as the driver shifted. “More than that. Freedom. The ugly foreboding when we walked in earlier this afternoon is gone.”

  “You didn’t act afraid in there.” She jerked her thumb back to the building.

  He controlled the laughter knocking in his throat to a smile. “All my stoic Northern European ancestors come in handy on occasion.”

  “I have questions. About what happened in there.”

  “So do I.” More than you can imagine. He led her over to the planter, studied the sky for an instant, and then buried his face in the colorful, fragrant flowers.

  “Watch for the bees.”

  He straightened, hesitated a heartbeat, and grinned. Did she have a clue how badly he wanted to kiss her? A trace of lipstick remaining from early in the day begged to be tasted. He faced her and rested her elbows in his palms. “Mrs. Dray. I need to get used to saying your name.”

  “My name’s Mona.”

  He laughed and delayed his urge for more with a light kiss on her forehead. “Come on. Let’s go reclaim my parents’ mortgage and retirement before the lawyers can calculate their fee.”

  “The dismissal.” She hurried beside him. “Does this mean I … we … can visit Matt?”

  “Don’t see why not. The travel restriction should be lifted.”