Murder at Barclay Meadow (18 page)

“Thank you,” Sue said. “I will. I've just been very busy lately. I have a big assignment I'm working on.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

Tony picked up his pencil as she set the form in front of him.

“You really had something.” She glared down at him.

“You know what, Miss Jillian? I haven't wasted a minute. I may not have finished my memoir, but I made the most excellent friends.”

 

T
WENTY
-
THREE

Intimate? The dentist. But I was married. And as hard as it was for people to understand, my heart was still tied to Ed's.

Nick? I would be able to get some information from him at last. And without going out for a drink.

The night of the party I put on a simple above-the-knee black dress, my mother's pearls, and a pair of three-inch pumps Annie had grown tired of. As I wobbled down the narrow wooden stairs, I worried the heels would leave divots in the pine floors.

I was startled to see Tyler in the kitchen, reading the sports page and holding a steaming mug of coffee. “You're still here,” I said.

He raised his head and sized me up. My stomach flipped a little. Tyler had never seen me dressed up.

“I'm going to a dinner party at Janice Tilghman's,” I said.

“Ah, Janice,” he said. “Always a good time.”

“Do you know her?”

“She used to boss me around in elementary school.”

“Me, too.”

“Who's your date?”

“No one,” I said quickly.

“Doesn't sound like Janice.” He set his mug in the sink, closed the paper, and creased it along the fold.

“Actually…”

“I knew it.” His green eyes danced. Dimples indented his cheeks.

“There's a guy named Dr. Laughlin. He's not my date. But she wants us to meet. Do you know him?”

“Of course I know him. It's Cardigan.” He crossed his arms. “He seems like a nice enough guy.”

“He doesn't have a chance with me. I'm married, plain and simple.”

“She has good intentions. But I tend to avoid her just for that reason.” Tyler picked up his cap and headed for the door. “Good luck.”

The door clicked shut. I waited. It opened again. Dickens was at my feet. “Hey,” Tyler called. “What do you think you're doing? Get over here.”

Dickens didn't move.

Tyler shifted his weight. “I said come on, boy.” He slapped his thigh. “We're going home.” He looked over at me, visibly annoyed.

I smiled and patted Dickens's head. “Go on, baby. Time to go home.” Dickens stood and trotted over to Tyler.

“Good night,” I sang out as the door thudded shut.

*   *   *

Phillip Laughlin, DDS, was Poligripped to my side. I don't know how he knew who I was. Wait. Scratch that. I had to be the only unrecognizable person in the room. He approached as soon as I acquired my drink. He was shorter than me, especially in my heels, and was dressed in a yellow sweater vest and a Christmas tie with a repeated pattern of Santa sledding down a hill.

We were standing in Janice's spacious living room. A glowing fire popped and crackled in the wide fireplace next to us. The mantel was packed with pine roping and strings of sparkling white lights. The scent of burning firewood filled the air.

Janice walked over and literally pushed us together, a flat hand on each of our lower backs. “Now the party is getting started,” she said. “How's your drink, Doc? You ready for a refill?”

“Yes, I believe I am.”

“Vodka tonic, no lime?” Janice said.

“Yes,” Phil said. “How do you remember these things?”

“It's my job,” Janice winked. “So, Phil, did you know Rose Red is living in Barclay Meadow? Just moved in. You should drop in sometime.” Janice looked back at me. “She's always making bread. I think she could use some company.”

“That's a lovely home,” he said. “I'm just two miles closer to town. We're practically neighbors.”

“It used to be lovely,” I said. “I'm afraid it's fallen into disrepair.”

“But you're there now.”

“Focus on the now.” I sipped my wine. “I don't know how long I'll be staying.”

“Rose Red isn't usually this negative, are you?” Janice gave me a meaningful look. “That's why she needed to come to a party.” She cocked her head, took Phil's glass, and strode away.

Phil stared at me like a lost puppy. I filled with dread. I wasn't ready for this. Not with him or with anyone. I wanted to be home in bed in flannel pajamas and the remote. I drank my wine in small frequent sips as if it were a pacifier. This was my first Christmas without Ed. I was missing him more that ever. We loved Christmas parties and knew how to work a room like a couple of lobbyists. Now I was the yin without the yang. Hollowed out in the middle.

“So…” I forced a smile. “Is it an occupational hazard to check out people's teeth? I mean, I had some of the spanakopita. There was a lot of spinach.”

“Your teeth are fine, Rose Red,” he said.

“Oh, that's not my name,” I said quickly.

“You don't want me to call you ‘Rose Red'?” He looked crestfallen.

“I prefer Rosalie.” I finished my wine and looked around the room for more. I spotted a server walking toward us, scooped up a glass from her tray, and took a sip. The wine was dry and buttery. Janice really did know how to pick a chardonnay. “You have very white teeth,” I said.

“Yes, I know.” He stared off. Crap. I hurt his feelings.

“I guess I shouldn't assume dentists want to talk about teeth.” I tried to get him to look at me. “That's probably the last thing you want to talk about.” He scanned the room. Probably wondering when Janice would return with his cocktail. “Phil,” I said. “Were you ever married?”

He finally made eye contact again. “My wife died three and a half years ago.”

“I'm sorry.” I placed a hand on his arm. “How?”

“Heart attack.” His eyes brimmed with tears. “She had it in her sleep. I couldn't save her.”

“How tragic,” I said.

He nodded. “I can't remember the last time I went to a party by myself.” He sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

“Neither can I,” I said. “Janice is right—we do have a lot in common.”

“You're a widow?”

“No. But I'm going through a divorce.”

He shook his head. “Not the same.”

“Grief is grief, Phil.”

“Your situation is much different.” He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back. “If Lori were alive, we would still be married. We were going on thirty years.” He lifted his chin. “I don't believe in divorce.”

Neither do I, I thought. I studied him—his sudden arrogant stance. That's how I used to be. A flicker of judgment when I learned someone was divorced. I was like him—so certain it would never happen to me. I felt wretched. It was all I could do to not run out the door and go home.

Phil cleared his throat. “I think I'll go find my drink. Janice must have gotten lost in her own massive house.” I watched him go.

An older gentleman in a tuxedo stepped into the center of the room and rang a delicate silver bell with a gloved hand. I followed my fellow party-goers to a set of heavy wooden doors, where a uniformed woman held a leather book with a seating chart. She asked for my name and pointed to my seat.

The table glowed from two large silver candelabras, casting the room in a soft gauzy light. A white linen tablecloth was topped with creamy dishes rimmed with gold. Small crystal vases filled with white roses were nestled among sprigs of pine and holly.

“Oh, Janice,” I said. “It's so beautiful. I feel like I'm in Downton Abbey.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Now, go sit down and stay out of trouble.”

Nick was in the seat next to mine, talking with the woman on his other side. Just as Janice had promised, I was seated to the right of Trevor, her husband, the seat of honor. A gold-embossed card listed the menu for the evening and the wine to accompany each course. A server had already begun to fill champagne flutes. Trevor pulled out my chair so that I could sit.

As I unfolded my linen napkin, Janice tapped a teaspoon against her champagne glass and stood. “Okay, everybody. Welcome! I want to make a toast to our guest of honor this evening.” Her eyes zeroed in on me.

No
, I mouthed.

“Some of you may not know that our newest neighbor is actually an old friend of mine. Rosalie has been spending summers in Cardigan since we were little girls and I'm thrilled to have her back. So if you could all join me in welcoming our newest friend and neighbor, Rosalie Hart.”

Everyone raised their glasses. Janice knew exactly what she was doing. It was protocol for me to return the toast. So that's how it would be. Tit for tat. When the cheers and clanking died away, I hesitated. All eyes were on me. I pushed my chair back and stood. “Thank you, Janice, for the lovely toast and for including me in your elegant dinner. I look forward to getting to know all of you better and hope there are many future friends at this table.” Janice watched me carefully. “I must say, for a small town, there is a lot to learn and a lot more excitement than I had ever imagined.” I hesitated. What was I saying? Curse you Janice. I raised my glass. “Here's to Janice, her gracious hospitality, stunning home and her … unmatched wit.”

I sat down quickly and pressed my napkin over my lap. The professor clinked his glass on mine. I looked over at him. His face was close. “Hello, again.” His cologne was a delicious mix of musk, vanilla, and a hint of citrus.

“Hi.” I downed my champagne.

I spent the first three dinner courses talking with Trevor. His family had lived on the Eastern Shore for generations and he delighted in telling me lots of little-known history of the area. He talked about his love of hunting and the outdoors and described in detail how he had begun to build his very own skipjack, the classic Chesapeake Bay boat used for oyster dredging. The woman to his left joined the conversation and knew a lot about the classic boats. With nothing to add to the conversation, I looked down at my crabcake.

“I thought you would never stop talking to them,” Nick said.

“They lost me at ‘skipjack.'”

“Good.” He winked. “I didn't realize you and Janice were such good friends.”

“Like she said…” I looked up at him. “We go way back.”

“And is the man you were talking with earlier your date?”

“No.” I held my wineglass by the stem and aligned it with my spoon. “Janice is playing matchmaker. But this one was pretty much a disaster.” I shoved my hands in my lap. “That chemistry you're studying? Dr. Phil and I came up short.”

“Dr. Phil?” His face danced with delight.

“Oops.” I placed my fingers over my mouth. “I didn't mean to say that. I've been thinking it. I just didn't mean to say it aloud.”

He rested his arm on the back of my chair. “I love it.” He signaled to the waiter standing in the doorway. He approached and leaned an ear toward Nick. “Bring me a vodka,” Nick said. “Grey Goose with a lime. Not too much ice.” The man nodded and walked away. Although most of the crabcake sat uneaten on his place, a trio of empty glasses was before him—cocktail, wine, champagne. I looked up into those Hershey's Kisses eyes. They were beginning to droop. Maybe this was an opportunity. Get him to talk while he was well lubricated.

“Nick, I've been meaning to ask you about the study. How's it going?”

“Very well.” He smiled. His arm was still on my chair. “Now that the grant is in place, my students are administering the questionnaires.”

“Did you ever fill that internship?”

He frowned. “Why do you keep asking me about that?”

“I was interested in it, remember?”

“You're too late.”

“You found someone?”

“President Carmichael found me a graduate student to run the statistics. No need for an intern.”

“Really? What department is she in?”

“
He
is a math major.” Nick sipped his water. “It will be better this way for a lot of reasons.”

“What exactly are you asking in the questionnaires?”

“The first segment is designed to analyze visual triggers to sexual desire.” He played with a strand of my hair. “We show our subjects a variety of photos and gauge their heart rates.”

“To see if we're like animals, right?” I said. “The female bird picks the male with the most impressive display?”

“Ah—that she does. She wants the best genes for her babies.”

“Yes,” I said. “But too much plumage can make for a lousy husband.”