She shook her head sadly. "Would Clarence really have tried to have an affair with Winnie, right under that man's nose? I don't know. They seemed to be around one another quite a lot for a while, for projects and things—always working together. Winnie used to look at him with those big soft eyes of hers, and I thought, he's taking advantage of her sweetness and youth. But there was never anything one could pinpoint exactly, you know? Winnie wasn't the sort to take advice from me, or as far as I could tell, anyone else. She wouldn't be told it was a bad idea.
"But then, after a while, it stopped completely. I do know he didn't seem afraid of anything. He was sneaky, too. He'd compliment people to try to get what he wanted from them, then drop them. If he wanted Winnie? Well, I'm sure I don't know. But she was even prettier back then, and very inexperienced. I'm sure a smooth talker like him wouldn't have had any trouble."
"And Lorraine? You also thought he was having an affair with her?"
Henrietta pursed her lips. "I'm not sure how to explain it. It was like they were in cahoots about something. I was never sure what. But if you saw the two of them together back then, I'm sure you'd know exactly what I mean." Her gaze settled on them thoughtfully. "Rather like you two, walking by just now. It was obvious there was something about the both of you that was very much in agreement. Very...in harmony." She blushed then, waving her arms around. "Sorry. I'm not usually such a flower child."
"Flower children are fine by me," said Gregory handsomely, smiling at her kindly. "Thank you for sharing what you did."
"You're welcome. Of course, he seemed perfectly dreadful to both of them the other day, didn't he? So, maybe I did imagined some of that at the time?" She sighed. "I don't know. It confuses me. The way he was, when he could have been perfectly nice. He could be, when he wanted to be, you know. But even so, I'm not sure that's why he was killed."
"Why do you think he was killed, then?" said Gregory. "Those affairs that may have happened? But it's been so long."
"You don't know Larry very well. He holds a grudge." Henrietta shuddered. "I'll bet he'd have let it stew and stew, if there was an affair and he got wind of it. Then...well, if he ever had a chance to kill the man who seduced his wife, I'm absolutely sure he's the sort to take it."
"Alone?" asked Gregory. "No help?"
"Who would help him? I'm sure Lorraine wouldn't be in on it. She used to care about Clarence a lot, once, even if I'm wrong about the affair. I don't think she could ever be angry enough with him to want him dead—even after what he said about her roses."
" Are you sure she wouldn't hold a grudge? Causing trouble in her marriage, dissing her roses? She doesn't seem to get along very well with anyone, to me."
She smiled ruefully. "That's just because you're both gay. She wouldn't show you her best side. Lorraine is...old fashioned, I suppose she would call it. I think she's rather a stick in the mud, myself. I don't have any problem with the gays."
"Thanks," said Gregory wryly.
Abe shot him a guilty, apologetic look, but he seemed more amused than annoyed.
"What would Winnie's motive for murder be, if it was her?" asked Gregory, moving smoothly past all of that.
"Winnie?" Henrietta blinked. "Nothing. That gardener friend of hers. They've become quite close. I've never trusted him. He seems like the jealous sort to me."
It would be rather hypocritical if he was, thought Abe wryly. He'd been 'friends' with enough local women that he had no room to talk. But then again, maybe that was all rumor and gossip. In the gossip mill, Abe himself probably had at least one boyfriend, though nobody had said so to his face.
"Well, thank you for telling us," said Gregory. "We won't spread it around. We should probably be going, though."
"Of course. Don't let me keep you."
She made shooing movements and seemed relieved when they left. Abe wondered if she was getting cold feet about telling them all she had. It was all a lot of speculation and maybes, of course, but one shouldn't discount the gut feeling of someone who'd lived in the area for a long time and had known everyone involved.
"I wonder if she thinks women don't commit murder. She can't seem to imagine jilted rage or anything but jealous boyfriends and husbands." Abe glanced at Gregory guiltily. "Sorry about that, her comment."
"What, the gays?" He snorted. "I should have told her I don't have a problem with 'the straights.'"
Abe laughed guiltily. "No, I mean her lumping you in with me. Thinking you're gay, just because we—we've been doing rather a lot together lately." He spoke in a constrained sort of voice, guilt suffusing him. He'd never wanted to make Gregory's life more difficult. Never. Well, except about his gardening, at the beginning. And even so, not for very long.
"Why should I be offended by that?" He gave Abe a long look.
Well, Abe wasn't going to play that game. He looked away.
"Just because she doesn't seem to think a woman could commit murder doesn't mean she read the situation incorrectly," he went on quickly. "I mean, about Clarence having affairs with his neighbors."
"But we heard what his brother said about his married girlfriends. Maybe he always went after married women. Maybe he got a thrill from it. And after all, a married woman having an affair—if it got serious enough for marriage, he'd have time to back out. He seemed like the sort who would do anything to avoid being 'tied down.'"
"Ollie's a bit like that, but he doesn't have affairs with married people. You can be decent and not want to get married—not that I think Clarence was."
"No, that's my point. He put himself first in every situation, and he enjoyed using and manipulating people."
"Agreed."
Abe snuck another glance at Gregory. Did he really not mind people assuming he was gay when they were together? Or was he just saying what he thought he ought to say? Either way, Abe felt a soft, embarrassed gratitude welling up in him. It felt good not to be looked down on for who he was, or shunned by people afraid of being labeled themselves. Gregory really was a decent fellow. It was too terribly bad he was straight.
"Even if he had affairs with both of them—with half the suburbs—I'm still not seeing a motive for murder, at least not one that would wait so long to take place. But then, I still think it wasn't planned, so I suppose old angers could rise, old jealousies—and Clarence would make certain they would, if he had any influence."
"But it was planned enough for someone to ask him to get into their car with them," observed Gregory. "That speaks to some amount of planning ahead. Are you still thinking it could only be a couple working together, or are you willing to concede a burst of adrenaline giving one person the strength?"
"By 'one person' you mean a woman, I suppose. I guess Rick or Larry wouldn't have any trouble dragging Clarence around after he was dead. They're both pretty strong. And I'm willing to concede anything that lets us find the murderer before we're driven to distraction or murdered ourselves, but I've no clue, really."
"He wasn't a huge man," said Gregory thoughtfully. "Not much bigger than you, and probably never terribly heavy."
"Why, Gregory, are you implying I've kept my boyish figure?" Abe fluttered his lashes at him. He was teasing, not flirting—or so he told himself.
Gregory spared him a reluctant smile. "What I'm saying is, suppose it was a woman? Someone he'd had an affair with in the past, and she invited him into her car after dark, just as he was ready to leave, to catch up for old times' sake? Do you really suppose he'd say no?"
"Oh, dear," said Abe. "You're right. All this time I've been thinking...but that would be an excellent motive to get into someone's car. Someone who wasn't a stranger, either."
"Exactly."
They stared at one another.
Abe asked, "Would one of them really want to kill him, for being a jerk and...and everything he was? If they'd slept with him before?"
"Wouldn't that make you hate someone more?" suggested Gregory. "If you had trusted them that much, and then found out just how horrible t
hey were—to you personally, not just everyone else."
Abe stared at nothing. "Yes." He could see it now. If Lenard had...well, if Lenard had come back just to rub his nose in something that he'd succeeded at and Abe hadn't, and if all the old wounds hadn't healed (and they still hadn't, not completely, perhaps never would), would he be tempted to murder the man? If he thought he could get away with it, and that that would make everything stop hurting?
"It would take a particular kind of brazenness to kill an old lover," said Abe in a shaken voice. "I mean, even supposing you could be angry enough and plan it all out well enough."
"If it was one person, it had to be planned. Perhaps one of the women killed him on a rug or a tarp or something, and used it to drag him part of the way, then roll him the rest? I don't know. I think it would be possible. But wouldn't the forensics people have figured that out by now?"
"And if they had, the murderer would be captured already, instead of freaking out and thinking we were on to them."
They stared at one another.
"Are we?" wondered Abe aloud.
"Well, a few minutes ago, we thought it was the Heatons, so, no, I don't suppose we're particularly good detectives. But, still, this is a promising development. I'm not sure how to investigate Lorraine. She's not exactly on great terms with either of us, although we could ask around, I suppose."
"Which will get back to her." Abe sighed. Gregory was looking at him expectantly. He liked it much better when the man gave him that look in the hopes he'd cook something. "Winnie is my friend, and a dear girl. It would be highly improper to interrogate her, or to use our friendship to pry into her business."
"If she did it, she's not a very good neighbor or a very dear girl," Gregory observed.
"Oh, I don't know." Abe met Gregory's gaze for as long as he could, then dropped it and sighed. "I don't like doing this."
"Then, let me. But I'm not sure we'll get anywhere if I'm the one to speak to her. You know her, and you're more tactful than I am."
"Am I?" wondered Abe, studying Gregory's handsome, weathered features thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure anymore."
This time, Gregory dropped his gaze. And was that a faint, telltale reddening of his cheeks? Was he blushing?
"Sorry," said Abe lightly. But his heart lifted. He liked not being the only one affected by this new and confusing friendship.
"We'll both go," said Gregory. "I don't like sending you alone into a possible murderer's den, anyway."
"Den! I'm pretty sure Winnie doesn't have a den. Or a murderous bone in her body." He thought again of the rumors, reluctantly. People could be so unkind. But, perhaps...?
"Then if she isn't, we'll eliminate her and focus on the Lockwoods, one or both of them." Gregory sounded grimly satisfied. He rubbed his hands together.
"You are a fierce thing on the trail, aren't you?" said Abe. "Listen, have you... Well, I hardly like to spread gossip, but you do know, don't you, that some people say Winnie killed her husband?"
"What?" Gregory stared at him. "No. Why didn't you say something before?"
It was Abe's turn to blush. "I don't believe it, and I don't like saying things like that about Winnie. It's catty and unkind. Winnie has always been very kind to me, you know, and I—I don't think she's a murderer. I'm telling you this because you didn't seem to know the rumors. But if we go in there asking pointed questions about murder, or making hints, don't you see it will hurt her, probably a great deal? To think that even I believe the rumors now, and I've decided she's a murderer?"
Gregory stared at him as if he couldn't figure something out. "Why do you keep saying that everyone you like couldn't possibly be a murderer because they're too nice? That's not how it works."
"Isn't it? I should think that anyone who kills isn't terribly nice."
"I don't think it's as simple as that. Look, if you're going to put yourself in harm's way—and it seems we have done that, somehow or other—then you have to be open to everyone as a suspect. Everyone. Even people you like."
"Even you?" said Abe cattily.
"If you think I have a motive, means, and opportunity, then yes." Gregory held his gaze. "Look, all I'm saying is, be honest about this. If it could be Winnie, then either investigate at least a bit or just stop pretending you care about finding out who did this."
"I—I do care." Abe's cheeks felt hot, and he was miserably aware they were fighting for the first time in ages. It had been going so well, too! "But I'm not really a detective, now, am I? I mostly wanted to investigate to prove it wasn't anyone I care about."
Gregory's gaze softened—a fraction. "Why don't we go round to visit Mary again? She's lived here long enough to know more than almost anyone. If she wanted to tell us something that will help us investigate, I have the feeling she could."
"At least you don't think she's a murderer," muttered Abe, still ruffled and upset.
"Come on, now," said Gregory. "Don't act like I'm viciously going after all your friends on purpose. Someone planted that murder weapon in my shed, you know. I'd like to find out who it is. I'm not gunning for anyone in particular. I just want it to stop, you know?"
"Yes, I'd like it to be solved, as well. But how would you feel if we had to suspect all of your friends?"
"I don't have many friends left, Abe," said Gregory rather gently. "You know, the whole..." He hesitated, then gestured vaguely towards his property. "The whole permaculture project. And other things."
"But if you did, it would not be pleasant," said Abe. Why should people stop being friends with him over a bit of gardening weirdness? "And I'm your friend. Don't forget that. No matter what."
"Thank you," said Gregory.
There was clearly something he wasn't saying, but Abe didn't mean to push him on it. The man was allowed a few secrets, especially the painful, personal ones. He hadn't pried about the divorce, after all, and he could have.
Abe took a deep breath and steeled himself. "Oh, dear. I suppose you're right." He let out another sigh. "We'll go and talk to Winnie!"
Gregory studied him closely. "If you're sure. I can always go myself, or we can talk to Mary first. She may know something."
"Mary's not going to suspect anyone of murder. She's not going to suspect anyone of affairs. She's going to think the best of everyone, because she always does! And I like her for it. But you're right. Let's talk to Winnie, and get this over with. If she won't speak to me afterwards, well..." He let the thought trail off and shrugged unconvincingly. "You're right that we ought to either investigate at least a bit, or just stop trying."
Then they discussed the Lockwoods. Larry was strong and angry; he would be a good suspect. They kicked around the idea of Lorraine meeting up with Clarence that night, and Larry discovering them, killing Clarence, and dumping his body.
"But don't you think she'd go to the police instead of helping him cover it up? I mean, being married to a murderer..." Abe shuddered. How could anyone live with keeping that a secret?
"She would never be able to hold her head up again if she told anyone. They really are pretty close. I think she'd cover for him rather than see him go to jail. Can you imagine? Her, with a husband in jail? And all of that stuff about an affair coming out in court? She'd never tell."
Abe gave a bitter laugh. "And I suppose there's no better way to keep your husband from leaving you than holding something like that over his head."
Gregory gave him an odd look. "Do you wish you'd had something to make him stay?"
"No. How could I, after everything?" Abe bit his lip, and honesty forced him to add, "I wished I'd had something to...to make him grovel. To be sorrier than he's ever been about anything! But he never will be. And I suppose I wouldn't take him back even if he was. I have some self-respect." Although not much, he added silently, thinking of his feelings about Gregory. Someone with self-respect wouldn't go there, would they?
Gregory showed the restraint of a saint and didn't ask personal questions.
"I'll have to
plant something other than zinnias," remarked Abe at last, out of the blue. "I won't be able to look at them again the same way. First humiliation, then blood. Ugh."
Gregory gave him an affectionate glance. "We'll find you something better." He hesitated. "You know, when I assumed you were married to a woman, and thought I'd misread you, I was disappointed." He smiled ruefully. "I finally thought to Google you after we looked up Clarence online, and there was something online about your actual divorce—from your husband. I felt pretty silly."
"It's not something I really like to talk about," admitted Abe. He looked at Gregory and wondered, Have I been assuming the wrong thing about you? He worried his lip, not liking to ask, not even knowing how. Gregory hadn't been offended by Henrietta's assumption, but might be by a direct question.
Gregory faced him. "Just so you know, I'm not straight, either. And that's the main reason why I lost a number of friends recently. Apparently, you're not supposed to come out as bi, not at my age." His smile looked brave but pained. "I guess it's a good way to find out who your friends truly are. It turns out most of mine are plants."
"I'm sorry," said Abe. It was all he could think to say.
"Don't be. Horticulture is a great balm."
The set of Gregory's shoulders looked rather sad, Abe thought.
He caught up with Gregory and said lightly, "I've been trying not to have a crush on you, you know." His heart pounded in his throat, but he thought his own smile was probably passably genuine, and he hoped it didn't show his nerves. "It's never a good idea to have a crush on a straight man."
"Ah," said Gregory. "Well, I hope you'll reconsider, now that you know I'm not. I should have said something sooner. It's still not easy for me to tell people, after that terrible reception. I don't think anyone's really taken it well. Even one friend who's gay. He told me I should 'make up my mind.' But that's not quite how it works."
The Body in the Backyard Page 12
