Chapter Twenty-One
The sky was clear, and we spent time looking up and pointing out the constellations on our walk back. Stanley was much better at it than I was, as the only one I recognized was Orion’s Belt. It’s hard to miss three stars in a straight line.
We wandered over to the gazebo in the center of the green. I hesitated to sit on the bench, because I knew the stone surface would be cold. Stanley took his jacket off and laid it on the seat, gesturing toward it.
He was clearly trying to make this a romantic evening, a fact that made my stomach do a little flip. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, so I ignored the feeling and took the offered seat.
“I’m having fun,” Stanley said.
“Me, too,” I said. My mind was racing, trying to come up with something interesting to talk about. I didn’t want him to think I was boring or tell me it was time for him to bring me home.
“Ava, I think we should talk about us,” he said.
Us? I didn’t realize there was an “us” yet, but if he wanted to talk about it, I should probably listen.
“We’ve known each other for a few years now,” he began, a fact which surprised me when I thought about it. The years had passed quickly.
“Linwood had a point,” he continued. “It’s about time we finally went on a date. Maybe that’s why it’s so important to me that we do this right.”
“Do you think we’re doing it wrong?” I asked. I wasn’t really sure what he was getting at.
He smiled at me. “No, that’s not what I meant. I want to make sure that we take our time getting to know each other, take things slow. There’s no reason to rush our relationship, right?”
I was a little confused by this speech. In my mind, when guys gave you a line like this, they wanted to date other women. “Do you want to date other people at the same time?” I asked. Hadn’t he just asked me about this very thing last night?
He hesitated, and I could see I’d caught him by surprise. “I suppose that’s part of taking it slow, isn’t it?”
Sitting on his jacket on the bench, I wrapped my arms around myself, wondering what came next. I liked Stanley. I thought he was sweet and funny and charming, but I was fine with taking things slow, too. I just wanted to make sure it was all spelled out and clear between us.
“So is that what we’re doing?” I asked.
“If you want to date other people, I’m fine with that.” I didn’t believe him, but that was okay. I had no intention of dating other people, but I could date Stanley for a little while and see how the relationship progressed. At some point we’d have to have another talk, but for now we could have a casual dating thing.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay, but we have to be honest with each other about it. Like when you asked me the other night about Kenny, and I told you he meant nothing to me. If I was dating him, I’d tell you.”
“So you’re going to date other people?” he said.
I shrugged. “Probably not, but we’re taking it slow, so we could say that’s an option if either one of us wants to do that.”
Stanley looked solemn. “Okay, but there’s one other thing.” He sat next to me and moved closer. Wrapping his arms around me, he leaned in to kiss me. I had a moment of panic, hoping my breath wasn’t bad from dinner and not being sure what to do with my arms and hands, but within seconds that dissipated. All I knew was that this man was kissing me, and I really liked it.
When he stopped, I leaned back and looked at him. “I liked that.”
“Me, too,” he said.
We sat in silence for a minute, a comfortable silence where we leaned against each other, and he held my hand.
“What are you afraid of?” I asked Stanley.
“Getting hurt.”
“Isn’t that the chance we take every day when we get out of bed?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean by that,” he said.
“Everyone’s worried about getting hurt,” I said. “The thing is, it’s going to happen. It happens in little ways all the time. Our friends hurt us with their casual sarcasm, or someone we respect doesn’t pay any attention to us. Then there’s the big stuff, when someone we love gets sick or dies.” Stanley’s eyes had a guarded look, making me wonder what had happened to him.
“I haven’t been what you’d call lucky when it comes to girlfriends,” he said.
“Good,” I answered.
He looked at me with surprise. “That’s not very nice.”
“Sure it is. If you’d been lucky with girlfriends, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now, because you’d be out shopping for new kitchen cabinets or something with her.”
He laughed, the first real laugh I’d heard from him all night. “That’s true, and it wouldn’t matter what my opinion was, because we’d only end up getting what she wanted anyway.”
“She’s probably going to pick something that doesn’t go with the rest of the kitchen, so you’ll have to do a total remodel.” I shook my head. “Looks like you dodged a serious bullet on this one.”
Smiling at me, he said, “You have no idea.”
We sat again in companionable silence, while my mind wandered back to the immediate problem of murder. Maybe it was odd, being on a date and all and thinking about something as gruesome as that, but I couldn’t help it. Not for the first time, I wondered if I should mind my own business, but then I remembered my reasons for wanting to get at the truth.
“Stanley, I’ve got to ask you something. I know you said you can’t help me with anything to do with Ethel, but I was wondering about Detective Rialto.”
He looked at me and raised one eyebrow. “So we like the detective, do we?”
I smacked him in the arm. “No, this is a serious question.” I was glad the dark night hid my blush. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
“What do you know about him?” I asked.
“I know he’s a good detective, and he used to work with the DEA,” he said.
“The Drug Enforcement Agency?” I said. If that was true, and I had no reason to believe it wasn’t, then Detective Rialto had made a huge change in his life. People don’t usually go from big time federal agencies to small town law enforcement, not without a good reason. I had a feeling Stanley knew the reason.
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
Stanley sighed and ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up a little. I was starting to recognize this gesture as an indication that he was stressed about something. It took him a few seconds to answer me. “Ava, I can’t really tell you anything else. The thing is, it’s not my story to tell, it’s Oliver’s. I’m sorry.”
I could hear the regret in his voice, and I had a momentary pang of conscience for putting Stanley in an awkward position. I opened my mouth to tell him not to worry about it, but didn’t get one word out. A sharp voice cut across the night, interrupting me and whatever remnants of a date I might have had left.
“You know what, O’Dell?” the voice said. “I am seriously thinking of arresting you. Right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kissing someone in public is not illegal, and neither is sitting in the gazebo at night. I was furious. “What the heck are you going to arrest me for?”
Oliver Rialto put his hands on his hips and tilted his chin at me. “I’m going to arrest you for interfering with an investigation. That’s a crime.”
“I have done no such thing.” This man was not going to get away with speaking to me like that.
“How come every time I turn around you’re there? Why were you at the police station this morning? What were you doing at Ethel’s house earlier? And what are these rumors I’m hearing about you?”
“Wait a minute, how did you know I was at the police station this morning?” I asked.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “I’m a detective, it’s my job to know things. Unlike some people who make assumptions based on half-baked theories of what they
think they’ve seen, I carefully review the evidence and make a determination from that.”
A couple of thoughts flew through my head. “Rob told you he’d seen me this morning,” I said. I’d have to have a talk with my friend and let him know I wasn’t interfering in anything before I did any more snooping.
Stanley stood, positioning himself between the two of us. “What’s going on, Oliver?” he asked.
Oliver shook his head and pointed a finger at me. “I am well within my rights to arrest that woman. It is a crime in the state of Connecticut to impede an investigation intentionally.”
“You know Ava means no harm, and I’m sure she’d be willing to listen to your suggestions,” Stanley said.
Like hell I would. Who did this guy think he was, coming over here and ruining my date while threatening to throw me in jail? Just as I opened my mouth to yell at the fine detective, Stanley shot me a look that begged me to stay silent. Snapping my jaw shut, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited to see what would happen next.
“Oliver, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” Stanley’s voice was low and soothing, and I could feel the hypnotic effect working on me, too.
Cracking his knuckles, Oliver turned around for a moment and took a breath before speaking. “I’m sorry. I’m frustrated by this case, that’s all. I’ve been getting conflicting information, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m not used to small towns.”
Looking at the detective’s obvious unease, I felt somewhat mollified, but my hackles weren’t completely down. For all I knew, this was some kind of trick to get me to trust him.
“Why don’t we go somewhere we can all talk?” Stanley suggested.
My head whipped back toward Stanley. What the heck was he talking about? He wanted to interrupt our date so we could chat with this guy? The night air got a little bit colder.
As if reading my mind, Stanley moved closer to me. “There’s obviously something going on. Don’t you want to know what it is?” he asked in a low voice.
I nodded. It made sense to listen to Oliver, even if I didn’t want to. “Let’s go get a hot chocolate. I’m starting to get cold,” I said. I turned and began walking across the green, not waiting to see if they’d follow.
Stanley hurried to catch up to me. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“Big Beans,” I said. “It’s the closest.”
Oliver looked puzzled. “I thought that place was owned by Kenny. I heard that the two of you …”
“Do you know Kenny?” I interrupted.
A ghost of a smile played across Oliver’s face. “I know Kenny.”
“Everyone knows Kenny, but like I said, his place is the closest, and I’m cold.”
After agreeing that we wouldn’t mention our evening trip to my brother, we trooped over to the coffee shop. Big Beans was a funky sort of place, displaying colorful artwork and hosting acoustic musicians most nights. The walls were painted in deep blues and greens, which set off the bold art really well.
This was my first true glimpse of Stanley as a politician. He was walking a thin line by having coffee with me and the detective, but I knew he was doing it for me.
Once we got our drinks, we found a table in the back corner and sat in silence for a moment. The usual crew of younger kids and twenty-somethings were in there with their laptops, drinking black coffee and sauntering out the back door to smoke clove cigarettes. It might look like these kids had no money from the way they dressed, but the sheer volume of electronics they carried told a different story.
“Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind?” Stanley said, stirring his coffee.
“And why you feel the need to arrest an innocent woman,” I added. Stanley shot me a look that begged me to be quiet, but I ignored him. I wasn’t about to sit passively while the men around me took care of things. Plus, Stanley wasn’t the one Oliver had threatened to send to the big house, so he wouldn’t understand my frustration.
Oliver stared at me over his cappuccino. “I’m not so convinced of your innocence.”
“I had nothing to do with Ethel’s death,” I sputtered.
“I know that,” Oliver said.
“Then what are you accusing Ava of?” Stanley asked.
“I don’t think Ava had anything to do with her death, but I do think she’s poking her nose in where she shouldn’t,” Oliver said.
I sat in silence. Although I hadn’t done anything wrong yet, I knew I should keep my mouth shut.
“Where are you with the investigation?” Stanley asked.
“I don’t think I should talk about it,” Oliver said.
“As the mayor of this town, I think the people have a right to know if there’s a murderer stalking others. Should we be worried?”
Oliver sighed. “I don’t think anyone is in any danger.”
Stanley’s demeanor was calm, but his voice held a hint of steel. “Can you tell me that with absolute certainty?”
Oliver shook his head. “Not one hundred percent, no.”
“Then why don’t you tell me where you and the others are in your investigation?” Stanley said. This was a side of Stanley I’d never seen before, a confident, self-assured man who was used to people following his orders.
Oliver looked at me. “I’m not sure I should be talking about this in front of a civilian.”
I did my best to stay calm. I knew he wanted me to react to give him an excuse not to tell Stanley anything, and I wasn’t about to play into that.
“Ava won’t tell anyone what we talk about,” Stanley said, “and this is something you need to tell me sooner or later anyway.”
“Fine, but let it be known I am only talking about this with you because you’re the mayor,” Oliver said. “For the record, I still don’t think she should be here.”
“Duly noted,” Stanley said.
“So far, what we’ve got is a big, fat nothing.”
Stanley and I waited for Oliver to say more, but instead he focused on the drink in front of him.
“You’re positive it was murder,” Stanley prompted.
“Yeah, we think she was killed from blunt force trauma to the head, based on what we can see, but we don’t have the final ME report, we have no murder weapon, no witnesses and no evidence. We’ve got nothing but a bunch of stories about how everyone in town hated this woman, which means our suspect list is about as thick as the phone book.”
I felt bad for Oliver. He was new in town, and I could see that this wasn’t the easiest case to start off with before really getting to know everyone. “I haven’t heard anything either,” I said.
“Is that supposed to reassure me?” he asked.
“No, Detective, it’s supposed to let you know that I’m on your side, and if I knew something I would tell you.” Really, what had I done to deserve that attitude?
“Would you tell me, or are you so caught up in playing Nancy Drew that you’d try to solve it yourself?” he asked.
Stanley put his hands out and said, “Okay, I don’t think that’s fair to Ava. As she said, she hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Then what was she doing at the house of the deceased today?” Oliver asked.
Stanley looked at me. “I was bringing food to the family,” I said.
“Perhaps you’re not aware of it, but food plays a very large part in everything we do in this town,” Stanley said. “We bring each other food for holidays, birthdays, weddings, births and deaths. We take our food very seriously here.”
“Then why is she the only one who showed up?” Oliver said.
“How do you know I’m the only one?” I said. This guy was really starting to get on my nerves. “Have you staked out the house to see who else brought cookies over? Maybe everyone else got there after you left today.”
“True,” he admitted. “I didn’t stay, so more people might have shown up, but I was there for several hours.”
“Didn’t you have someone monitoring who visited?” I
asked. “Isn’t it possible the murderer came over to see what was happening?”
Oliver nodded. “It’s possible, but we don’t have the resources right now to post someone at the house all the time. I’ve arranged for increased patrols in the area, but that’s the best I could do.” Taking one big gulp from his coffee cup, he stood. “That’s about all I’ve got to share with you, Mr. Mayor. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, so I’ll be heading out.”
Maybe it was my upbringing or my inborn desire to please. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” I offered.
Pushing in his chair, Oliver looked straight at me. “Please don’t play detective.”
“I’m not.” My protest sounded weak even to my ears.
“And regarding your assumption about my wife,” Oliver said, still looking at me, “I’m not divorced, and I’m not widowed. She’s missing. My wife’s been missing for five years now.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
That was terrible. Missing for five years? A number of images flashed through my mind, none of them good.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not sure if there was anything else I could possibly say. But by the time “sorry” was out of my mouth, Oliver was out the door. He didn’t even finish his drink.
“Now do you know what I meant when I said it was his story?” Stanley said.
I nodded, but I still didn’t really understand. What happened? Why? Did this happen in Arizona or somewhere else?
I knew her disappearance was the only piece of information I was going to get that night, and I’d have to settle for knowing that much.
“Maybe we should invite him over for dinner,” I said. Had they been deeply in love or already on the brink of divorce?
“Maybe we should let the detective live his life without any interference from us,” Stanley said. “I know you mean well, but that’s an intensely personal period in the man’s life. Let’s not go poking into a raw wound.”
“How do you know it’s a raw wound?” I said.
The expression on Stanley’s face spoke volumes. I’d asked enough questions, and the flow of information stopped here.
Madness in Brewster Square Page 11
