The Busy Woman's Guide to Murder (10 page)

She stared at me like I had lost my mind, which was beginning to feel like a possibility. “What are you doing here?”

Jack also gazed at me quizzically, as if wondering the same thing. I said, “For some reason, I just got worried.”

“Worried?”

“Yes. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” Haley said—at least I thought that was what she said as her teeth had begun to chatter. The door was open and it was damned cold out.

“It was just a silly notion, that’s all,” I said. “Sorry to disturb you.”

She stifled a yawn. “Well, I am awake now. You came all the way out here. You may as well have some coffee.”

“Coffee’s good,” Jack said.

My own teeth were chattering by then. That meant yes.

“You’re freezing,” Haley said. “Come in. I don’t know what I was thinking. We don’t get many visitors here and never in the morning so I just didn’t—”

Jack said, “That’s great,” and walked through the door. I followed. The door led straight into the living room. The cozy fire in the woodstove was the focus of the room. A saggy sofa was positioned close enough to warm whoever was lucky enough to sit on it. The room was paneled in pine and the floors were made of wide pine boards. All that wood made the cabin feel even cozier. I liked the homeyness of it.

“Nice fire,” Jack said, pointing to the woodstove and heading straight for it. I scurried after him and got as close as I could. Through the glass front of the woodstove we could see the red-hot logs glowing inside; a cheerful sight.

“Have a seat,” Haley said. Jack sprawled on the sofa and I settled in a battered armchair with a crazy patchwork afghan covering the worn upholstery.

Haley busied herself making coffee and soon that scent added to the wood smoke. When the coffee came, it smelled good. It might have been half-strength and it could have passed as last night’s dishwater, but, unlike last night’s dishwater, it was hot and it was there. Haley settled down and smiled at us, expectantly. Her face was already less puffy and she was obviously more with it than when we arrived.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I just didn’t follow what was going on. Explain it again.”

“Charlotte thought you were dead,” Jack said, blowing on his coffee cup.

“Dead?”

“We’re both glad you’re not.”

“Hey, me too,” she said. “But, um, what would make you think I was dead?”

“Silly,” I said, feeling my face redden.

“Charlotte lets her imagination run away sometimes. This was one of those times. Great coffee, Haley.”

What a liar. He seemed so innocent too.

“Excellent,” I said, adding to the lie quotient in the room. “Just strong enough to do the trick.”

“I still don’t understand why you thought I was dead.”

“It’s crazy.”

She nodded. I guess she already knew that.

“Another woman was killed in the middle of the night. She was walking to her car near Ambleside Acres, probably going home. She was found around six this morning.”

Haley’s watery blue eyes widened. “Killed? You mean another hit-and-run?”

“Exactly,” Jack said. I noticed he wasn’t actually drinking the coffee.

Haley’s gaze shifted from Jack to me. “I didn’t catch the news yet today. We usually finish around three and sleep until ten or eleven. Randy’s still sleeping now.”

“I hope we didn’t wake him up.”

She grinned. “An atomic bomb wouldn’t wake him up. Don’t worry about that. The same with our daughter, Brie.”

I felt a bit of relief that I only had to appear like an idiot in front of one person. Jack didn’t count. We were used to being foolish in front of each other and so that never mattered. I said, “I knew you worked nights in offices and I knew that there were those couple of strip malls at the edge of Ambleside Acres so I started to worry. What if . . . ?”

“What if someone’s trying to kill me too?”

I nodded. “I realize it’s silly now. It’s just that the first victim looked so much like Serena and I was wondering if it was a case of mistaken identity.”

Haley had just started to realize what that might have meant. “You think someone wanted to kill Serena? And me? Because of actions when we were kids? Oh my God, I regret all that so much. Why would someone want to kill me? I’m sorry for everything I did.”

“That was my thinking. But it wasn’t you, so it was obviously a product of my feverish mind. I am so sorry, Haley.”

Haley stood up, walked over to the stack of split firewood, opened the glass-fronted door, and added a healthy top-up to the fire. I liked the crackling noise. She sat down again and said, “But it might have been me. What if this was another mistake? Randy and I do have clients in those strip malls. We just don’t work there on Saturday nights.”

I added, “We’re sorry about this, Haley. I shouldn’t have panicked and alarmed you. I see now that it didn’t happen and that’s a good thing.”

A sound between a squeak and a roar caught our attention and we turned. A large hairy man stuck his head out of what must have been the bedroom door. He stepped into the room and scratched his belly. He spotted us and then scratched his head. He turned to face Haley. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Randy,” she said. “You remember Charlotte Adams, don’t you, hon?” I gave myself yet another mental kick.

He squinted at me. He was a man who had worked all night and found himself with unexpected visitors in the morning before he’d had a cup of coffee. Considering all that, he seemed pretty mild. He said, “Who?”

“Charlotte Adams. From St. Jude’s? She almost went out with your buddy Jason Gardner? Remember? Before we were going together. Or we could have double-dated.”

He blinked. “Yeah, sure,” he said unconvincingly. He managed a teddy bear grin. He was instantly likeable. I would have trusted him with my wallet. I could see how he would have been a dynamite salesman as Haley had said. “How ya doin’?”

I said firmly, “I am doing very well.”

Haley hadn’t bothered to ask me if I recognized Randy. I did, although time hadn’t been kind to him either. The huge football player’s body had turned flabby and his dark hair had receded—well, actually descended, because there was lots of it on his chest, arms, and, although I didn’t want to check too closely, his ears. He was far too pale, a clue to his health.

Haley inclined her head in Jack’s direction. “And this is, uh . . . I’m sorry; you look real familiar, but I don’t quite remember your name.”

Jack was his gracious self. “Jack Reilly. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t remember you either, Harley.”

“Haley,” I said quickly. “It’s Haley, Jack.”

The hulk squinted at Jack, and then grinned. “Basketball, right? It’s all coming back to me.”

“That’s me.”

“You were pretty good. You still play?”

“Not really. I’m into cycling now.”

“Cycling,” the hulk said, the way he might have if Jack admitted he spent his time doing needlepoint studies of small pastel animals. He turned to me. “Real nice to see you again,” he lied politely and shook my hand. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m heading back to bed for a bit. Haley? You need anything?”

She shook her head.

“I always take care of my girls,” he said. “But first a bit more sleep.”

“I’m up for good,” Haley said in a shaky voice. “But Charlotte’s here for a reason. You are just going to die when you hear this, Randy.”

He stared at her, slack-jawed, before he said, “What?”

“She thinks someone is trying to kill me.” Her blue eyes filled.

Randy thumped down on the sofa and fixed his wife with a loving glance. “But why would anyone want to do that, sweetheart?”

Home again. Jack, to his credit, did not give me a hard time about my wild idea that someone had killed Haley.

“We’re both glad she’s still alive,” he said, by way of letting me off the hook. “And her husband is too.”

“Right. Funny how it turns out that they’re still high school sweethearts. You don’t think of that kind of thing working out.”

Jack gave me a strange look.

“Thanks for coming with me out there. Better safe than sorry,” I added gratefully.

“Can we forget about these mean girls now and enjoy our day?” Jack said.

“Oh, sure.” I meant it too.

Jack made some more coffee to wipe out the taste of Haley’s brew while I checked the phone to see that Sally, Margaret, and Pepper had all called. That was nice. My lovely contact from Woodbridge Therapy Dogs had too. My mother had phoned from somewhere exotic and left an excited message that could have meant either she was getting married again or she had a new handbag. Oh well, I’d find out soon enough. I left the messages and turned to Jack. Jack and I agreed on a winter wonderland walk with wieners once I’d warmed up fully again. We both had some fun reading and some new music to listen to. We don’t read the same kinds of books. I favor personal development books; Jack likes mysteries for some reason. I like funky alternative rock; he’s into world music. Big deal. We respect each other’s choices, more or less.

At some point, we’d decide between an early dinner at one of our favorite restaurants or a movie. Picking the movie would involve flipping a coin, unless we saw two movies. Sunday. I love Sundays. It got off to a rocky start, but it was still the most luxurious day of the week. My To Do list was all fun things. I made a promise out loud to myself and Jack that we’d keep this day to ourselves. I hoped that would continue if “us” ever turned into more “us” than it currently was.

Jack and I parked near Kristee’s Kandees and spent a happy hour strolling through snowy uptown Woodbridge. The dogs cooperated for once. When we’d finished, we headed in Kristee’s. I wanted to get a couple of boxes of Kristee’s black-and-white fudge, which is my gift of choice for hostesses, people in hospitals, reluctant sources in investigations, bribable police officers, and myself. Just because.

Kristee is never the sunniest of individuals, to understate the case. It’s always a surprise that she can turn out such yummy confections when you can practically see the black cloud of misery over her head. Today she scowled as I walked through the door. She extended the scowl to Jack.

“I’m staying outside with the dogs,” Jack said.

Truffle and Sweet Marie sniffed the air. They love this place because Kristee has a special line of homemade peanut butter dog biscuits. Of course, pesky health rules kept them outside the shop. I think Jack was grateful for them.

“Charlotte,” Kristee said. She stretched her lips out to simulate a smile that could fool no one.

“That must be painful,” Jack muttered from behind me. Out loud he said, “I’d better put some money in the parking meter.”