The Body in the Wetlands

by Judi Lynn

  “Olivia invited him.”

  There was a long silence. Finally, he said, “Sounds like you’re doing all right while I’m gone.”

  “I’m fine, but I miss you.”

  He sounded happier. “Keep missing me, and don’t get any ideas until I get home. I’ll be back in less than two weeks.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “I can’t wait to be home, Jaz.” And they hung up.

  On her way upstairs, Jazzi shook her head. What was wrong with Ansel’s family? Were they just plain stupid or so self-centered they couldn’t see the big picture? She’d forgotten to ask Ansel if Jezebel brought new treats today. She dug her nails into her palms. If she had to guess, she’d bet she did.

  Chapter 29

  Jazzi walked into the house on Anthony, took one look at Jerod, and shook her head. “Are you sick?”

  “Not yet, but Franny started throwing up this morning. She felt good last night. We went to get a huge, old armoire that she saw online for twenty bucks. The thing’s covered with layers of paint, but she can’t wait to restore it.” He shook his head, frowning. “I’m not sure she should be breathing in paint-remover fumes, but she swears it’s fine. She wears a mask.”

  “I don’t think you could keep Franny away from her furniture for nine months.”

  “I know. And she restored stuff during her other pregnancies and was fine. The shed has plenty of ventilation, but the heat wears her out now that she’s bigger. By the time she finishes sanding a table, she’s whipped. I played with the kids last night to give her a break. I’m feeling it today. We might not make it to the Sunday meal.”

  “Okay with me. I don’t want your germs.” Jazzi loved him, but she hated tossing her cookies.

  “Well, I’m here now. Let’s finish painting this place, and then we can stain the floors and get to the fun stuff next week.”

  “You look like you should sleep for a few days.”

  He didn’t argue. “I’m going to live on the sofa this weekend, but I want the basics done here.”

  Jazzi nodded, and they got busy. She ended up staining the upstairs floors while he painted downstairs. The man looked like he was going to collapse by the end of the day. She kept her distance from him. “If you can’t make it on Monday, I can stain the downstairs floors by myself.”

  “Got it. You’re telling me not to show up sick.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Don’t think I could make myself move if I catch the kids’ bug. Pray for me.”

  She laughed. “I’ll light incense.” Not really, but Jerod looked pitiful.

  He went home to his family, which sometimes was more work than he did with her, and she hurried to get ready to meet Isabelle and Reuben for supper. She and her old neighbor tried to get together once a month. They wanted to keep in touch.

  Isabelle, Reuben’s future bride, always looked dramatic and sophisticated. Jazzi couldn’t compete with her raven updos, sweeping black eyeliner, and designer clothes, but she did try to look better than usual when she met them. She took time with her hair and makeup and slipped into a summer dress she’d found on clearance and a pair of wedged shoes. They were meeting at the Gas House, their old standby. It was downtown, on the river, and if you didn’t make reservations on a Friday night, you were out of luck.

  She saw Reuben’s car in the lot when she pulled in. The waiter led her to their table, and Isabelle looked radiant. Being with a man who loved and adored her worked wonders. She’d loved Cal for years before he died, and he’d liked her back. As usual, she was dressed in designer chic—one of the new blouses with cut-out sleeves to show her shoulders and a slim pencil skirt.

  “You look wonderful,” Jazzi told her.

  “Thank you. You wore a dress tonight, too.”

  After they ordered their drinks, the first thing out of Isabelle’s mouth was, “Ansel will be home before our wedding, won’t he? We’re both partial to your...special friend.”

  Jazzi grinned. “It’s hard to find the right word, isn’t it? He’s more than a boyfriend, but significant other sounds a little too weird. He should be back in time. He’s working his fanny off at his parents’ farm.”

  Reuben glanced at the menu, and it amused Jazzi. He always ordered the salmon, no matter what else was on offer. Then he looked at her, confused. “I thought his family kicked him out, left him on his own, and that’s why he started working with you and Jerod.”

  “It’s a long story.” The waiter came with their drinks and took their dinner orders. That out of the way, she explained about the problems on the farm.

  Reuben sniffed. “Just because you’re born into a group of people doesn’t mean you have to like them. When I didn’t marry and became an interior designer, my family decided I was gay. They cut all ties with me. As far as I’m concerned, good riddance!”

  Isabelle’s red lips curved. “I could assure them Reuben’s not gay, but they showed their true colors. Who needs them?”

  Reuben emphatically nodded, more opinionated than usual. “I’m surprised Ansel even bothered with his family.”

  “It won’t happen again,” Jazzi said. “He’s let them know.”

  Reuben changed the subject. “How did your sister’s house turn out? With your help, I’m guessing it’s stunning.”

  She gave him a look. Reuben was the one who did stunning. “We got all of the big stuff done—gutted the kitchen and bathrooms, new floors, and a new roof. They can take it from there.”

  The waiter came with their food, but that didn’t slow down their conversation. Reuben leaned forward, excited. “Olivia lives close to a woman who’s the aunt of a friend of mine.”

  “Seth?”

  “That’s him. I swoon for that man’s drinks! He used to hire out for parties and was known as the city’s top mixologist.”

  Swoon? There might be a reason his family thought he was gay. “Really?”

  “His martinis are marvelous! He taught me how to make my favorite one when he decided to retire and concentrate on his bar.”

  “Are you allowed to share the recipe?”

  “Heavens no! I was sworn to secrecy.” He glanced at Isabelle. “I’ve only shared with one other person.”

  Jazzi swallowed another bite of her blackened shrimp. “Why did Seth retire?”

  Reuben finished his martini and motioned to the waiter for a second. “Such a sad story. Seth lived with Annabelle Burton, a well-known local chef, for years. Annabelle’s appetizers were to die for. They catered parties as a team. But Annabelle’s mother had retired to Florida and went into a decline. Annabelle drove down to help her and ended up staying there.”

  That’s what happened to the woman who auctioned her house to them. Jazzi’s mind went to Ansel. He returned to Wisconsin to help his parents. Jezebel, with money to burn, was stopping to see him every day. What if his brothers finally appreciated him? What if his parents offered him part of the dairy farm? That’s what he’d wanted before they kicked him out. Would he be tempted to stay? She pushed those thoughts away.

  Isabelle took up Seth’s story. “Once Annabelle left, Seth sort of spun out of control. He had no desire to bartend at parties without her.”

  They’d shed a different light on Seth. He’d loved and lost, didn’t sound like a player trying to score with younger women. Or maybe losing Annabelle had made him that way. “I heard he only hit on women under twenty-five, that he liked them young.”

  Isabelle’s perfectly shaped brows rose in surprise. “Seth?”

  Reuben chuckled. “That’s business. People like young, attractive waiters. But I ran into him at the 07 bar on Broadway and Bluffton Road. He told me his young employees made his teeth ache, always fussing about something, too many hormones.”

  Jazzi had driven past that bar, and it looked interesting. “Did you like it there?”

 
“The owner wants it to be a neighborhood hangout, and that’s exactly how it feels. Not a huge menu, but good food, good drinks, and low-key.” He lowered his voice. “They serve sausage rolls.”

  He knew her too well. She’d have to try it out. She moved to a new topic. “You heard about the murders in Olivia’s area. One of them was a young nurse, really pretty, practical, and level-headed.”

  Isabelle shook her head. “If you’re thinking Seth might be a suspect, you’re wrong.”

  “Even if the girl got pregnant on purpose?”

  “Then he’d still do the right thing and marry her,” Reuben said. “Seth doesn’t duck out on his responsibilities. I’ve heard that the bartender he works with wants to start doing parties, and Seth’s agreed to work with him for a while to get him started. If that’s true, Isabel and I will hire them to throw an open house.”

  “Greg and Seth?”

  Isabelle pushed her half-empty plate away. “Is that his name? Greg? Rumor is he’s a woman magnet.”

  Jazzi nodded and finished her meal, too. She’d eaten every shrimp. “That would be Greg. Girls line the bar to see him.”

  Reuben tipped his glass to sip the last drop of his martini. “I’ve missed Seth and his drinks at events. I’d love to see him at parties again.”

  They all passed on dessert and paid their bills when the waiter returned, then went their separate ways. Jazzi always enjoyed getting together with Reuben and Isabelle. On the drive home, she wondered if a young girl who was serious and practical would have appealed to Seth. From what she’d heard, Meghan acted older than her age. Something about her must have appealed to him or he wouldn’t have kept giving her free drinks.

  Chapter 30

  Jazzi woke up grumpy. Ansel hadn’t called last night. She was guessing he’d sat down on the edge of his bed and fallen over, and sleep had claimed him. Either that or Jezebel had talked him into going to dinner with her and he’d lost track of time. She tried to picture what a Jezebel would look like. Probably long and lean with perfect abs, perfect skin, and long dark hair. She’d never met her, but she already didn’t like her.

  She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Chore day. She always cleaned and brought in groceries on Saturdays, but she had to mow today, too. It was close to ninety degrees outside, and she was going to look like a melted puddle before she got done. Ansel usually took care of the lawn, but since he was working for his parents, she had to do it all.

  Quit whining. But what if Ansel didn’t come back? What if he and his family all joined hands and skipped together through green pastures in Wisconsin? What if Jezebel hopped into his bed every night?

  She was being silly. Time to get a grip. She pushed out of bed and tossed on old clothes.

  She started with the yard. It hadn’t grown much since they hadn’t had enough rain lately. Most of it was still green, but spots were turning brown along the driveway. It took her a solid three hours to mow it, and Ansel wouldn’t approve. She didn’t bag the grass around the house. But he wasn’t here, was he? When the yard was done, she gave the rooms a quick dust and scrub. Nothing to brag about. Then she ran to the store to buy lots of rotisserie chickens and cartons of eggs. She planned on making chicken salad and pavlovas for tomorrow, things that were easy to make ahead. Then she threw in some deli meats and added ham salad at the last minute. On impulse, she tossed braunschweiger into the cart, too—one of her secret pleasures. She didn’t plan on cooking next week. Finally, she grabbed lots of cartons of fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

  She was putting groceries away when Gaff called. Uh-oh, there weren’t any more dead bodies, were there? He hadn’t changed his mind and decided to question the EMT’s nurse girlfriend today? She answered cautiously. “Yes?”

  “It’s hotter than Hades,” he complained. “You offered to let me and my wife use your pond sometime. Is the offer still good?”

  “The water’s perfect. Come on over.”

  “Will we be interrupting your supper?”

  “I have ham salad and braunschweiger. Take your pick.”

  “We’ll bring chips. See you soon.”

  Jazzi was already in her modest bikini with an oversized T-shirt pulled over it when they parked in the drive. At the moment, she didn’t look or smell good, but it was only Gaff. If his wife looked like Isabelle, she’d kick herself for not dressing up to meet them, but she was too hot and sweaty to care.

  The car doors opened, and Gaff led his wife to meet her. “Jazzi, this is my Ann. Ann, Jazzi.”

  Jazzi liked the woman the minute she saw her. Warmth and vitality radiated off her. Totally gray-haired, with deep laugh lines, she looked to be five-three and a little overweight—a perfect person to hug.

  “I’ve heard so much about you!” Ann held out her arms, and Jazzi stepped into them.

  “I don’t know how you do it, being married to a cop.”

  Ann laughed. “Neither do I, but the kids and I still like the guy.”

  Gaff and Ann were both dressed in their swim suits with cotton robes pulled over them. Jazzi grabbed the stack of towels she’d put on the patio table and led them over the rise Ansel had created with the backhoe to give the pond privacy.

  Ann inhaled a quick breath. She took in the gazebo and the landscaping. “This is beautiful.”

  “Let’s jump in.” Jazzi reached up to yank off her T-shirt, and they stripped down, too.

  Her words were braver than she was. She was a dip your toes in the water and inch in type of girl. Gaff and Ann lunged in and swam out a ways, like Ansel did. Ansel had dug the pond so that the bottom fell away gradually. Jazzi could walk until the water was up to her shoulders. Then she lowered herself back and floated. It was a perfect way to end a Saturday.

  They swam and chatted until they were cooled off and relaxed, then walked through the backyard. Newly mown grass stuck to their feet, but they hosed it off on the back patio. Ansel would have told her that if she’d bagged the grass, that wouldn’t have happened. Jazzi led them into the house, where they made sandwiches together. Gaff drank a beer, and Ann shared a bottle of wine with Jazzi.

  “Do you want to take another dip?” Jazzi asked when they finished.

  “No, this has been perfect,” Gaff told her. “Thanks for sharing your pond with us.”

  “Any time.” And she meant it. She’d enjoyed having them here. She had a soft spot for Gaff, and his wife was wonderful. She hadn’t enjoyed them just because Ansel was out of town, either. Ansel would have liked having them over, too.

  Gaff heaved a long sigh. “I haven’t felt this relaxed for a long time. Think we’ll head home and enjoy a quiet evening. Thanks again.”

  She was in an especially good mood when they left, so went upstairs and showered, then changed into her pajamas. She turned on music and went to the kitchen. She sang along to the CD as she skinned and chopped the rotisserie chickens to make a huge chicken salad with dill. She loved dill. Then she whipped the meringues for three big chocolate pavlovas for dessert. She took loaves of bread out of her freezer and put them on the kitchen island to thaw, adding cans of a variety of olives and a jar of marinated artichoke hearts. She wouldn’t put the cheese out until the last minute.

  With the meal prepped, she padded to the living room, plopped on the sofa, and turned on the TV. She must have been searching for movies the last time she had it on, because a woman was running down a hotel corridor with a crazed, knife-wielding maniac chasing after her. Horror. Ansel would be thrilled.

  There was no way she was watching it alone. She flipped to the Food Channel instead to watch a whole different kind of chopping and dicing. More her speed. Once it was ten, she was having trouble keeping her eyes open, so climbed the stairs to the guest room and crawled under the blankets before Ansel called.

  She answered on the third ring. “Is the roof done?”

  He sounded tired. �
�For the house. The barn’s next. That’s going to take most of next week.”

  She felt sorry for him. “It was hot today. Gaff and his wife came over, and we cooled off in the pond.”

  “No pond here except for runoff. Believe me, you don’t want to step foot in that. It would be easy enough to dig out a swimming hole. It won’t happen.”

  “What did Jezebel bring you today?” The image of a willowy, perfect brunette mocked her.

  “They’re for me and my family, especially Radley.”

  “Right, she didn’t bring Radley anything before.”

  His sigh traveled over the distance. “Specialty ice cream sandwiches. They were really good.”

  “She’s a humanitarian. I’m impressed.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone.

  He laughed. “You’re such a smart-mouth. What are you making for the Sunday meal?”

  “Chicken salad and pavlovas.”

  “I love pavlovas.” He hesitated. “My mom puts supper on the table every night, but nothing’s changed. Every Monday’s goulash.”

  “You like goulash.”

  “I like your goulash. Tuesday’s fried chicken.”

  “You love chicken.”

  “Not every Tuesday. You get the idea.”

  “It’s only for two weeks.”

  “This is going to be the longest two weeks of my life.”

  That made her feel better. She missed him, too. “When you finish the barn roof, can you come home?”

  “You’d better believe it. I don’t care if they have to crawl to milk the cows after that.”

  She laughed. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Do you get to sleep in?”

  “Cows don’t understand that concept. Since we’ll be up anyway, we’re starting work on the barn. Adda’s invited us all to her place for supper. That’ll be nice.”

  “What does your parents’ place look like? And what’s the town like where Adda lives?” She’d never seen either and couldn’t picture them.

  “Mom and Dad have a big, square, white two-story with an addition on one side. The roof’s high, but simple. And thank heavens the long, red barn has a regular roof, not a rounded one. The milking shed has a metal roof and sides. It’s in okay shape. Lots of pasture land.”