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She gave him a funny look. “Well, of course, if that’s the way you want it.”

“Maybe we could continue to meet privately for a while,” he said.

“I suppose so.” But Vera was frowning as she got up to check the vegetables. “Dinner is ready,” she called out. “I hope you’re hungry.”

BUSINESS WAS SLOW IN THE LOUNGE AT THE HOLIday Inn, which didn’t seem to bother Destiny at all since Sam Hunter was the only one at the bar.

Sam watched Destiny closely, as though trying to size her up. His eyes followed the way her short skirt lifted each time she reached high for the bottle of Johnny Walker Red which two men at a nearby table were drinking, to the way her oversized breasts bounced as she washed glasses. Finally, Destiny sashayed toward Sam, took one of his hands in hers, and turned it over so that she was looking at his palm. “I didn’t tell you I was a palmist, did I?” she asked.

He smiled, showing off his good looks. His thick brown hair had not begun to gray at the temples like that of a lot of men his age. “You failed to mention it,” he said.

“I’ll be happy to give you a reading,” she said. “No charge, of course.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

“This is your lifeline,” she said, tracing one of the lines that ran across his open palm. “It shows that you’re going to live a long life.”

“That’s good to know.”

“And this line—” She paused and gave him a coy smile. “It says you’re going to meet a beautiful woman. You will quickly become smitten with her.”

Sam smiled and captured her hands in his. “I think I already have. What time do you get off?”

Destiny didn’t respond. If Sam noticed her staring across the room at the couple leaving, he didn’t say anything. “Would you excuse me,” she said. “I need to make a quick phone call.”

MAX’S CELL PHONE RANG, AND HE PICKED IT UP. Destiny spoke from the other end. “Damn,” he said. “How long ago?” He listened. “Okay, thanks.”

“What is it?” Jamie asked.

“Larry Johnson just left the Holiday Inn with a woman. I hope Lamar is doing his job.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe we should drive over.”

“And do what?” Jamie asked. “We can’t exactly knock on his door.”

Max looked thoughtful. “If he took her to his place, I think she’s relatively safe. Johnson isn’t dumb enough to try anything at his apartment. My concern is he’ll take her home. That might put her in danger. We might be wasting our time, of course,” he added. “I think Johnson suspects he’s being watched. If that’s the case, he’s not going to take any chances.”

“Unless he gets drunk enough and lets down his guard,” Jamie said. “Then anything is possible.”

“VERA, THAT WAS THE BEST POT ROAST I’VE EVER had,” John said. “I can’t believe you never married, what with your looks and cooking skills.”

Vera waved off the remark. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Wait until you see what I’ve made for dessert.”

“Dessert? I’m already busting out of my pants from that meal.”

Vera got up and cleared their dishes away before cutting them each a slice of Key lime pie and filling two cups with coffee. She carried them to the table on a silver tray.

“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble,” John said.

“It wasn’t any trouble. I love to cook.”

John waited until she sat down before he spoke. “Tell me something,” he said. “How come you never married?”

Vera shrugged. “I was in love once, but he wasn’t able to make a commitment.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Vera looked sad for a moment. “I wasted a lot of years hoping he’d change.” Finally, she shrugged. “But I had a job with the newspaper that I loved, and I was always busy with church activities so it wasn’t like I sat around moping about it.”

John shifted in his chair. He suddenly looked nervous. “You didn’t mention our date to anyone at the
Gazette
, did you?”

“Of course not.”

He looked relieved as he took a sip of his coffee. He watched her closely from over the rim of his cup. He didn’t make a move for his pie.

“Aren’t you going to eat your dessert?” Vera asked.

“Could you make it to go?”

“Oh, are you leaving so soon?”

“I’m afraid my day has caught up with me,” he said. “I was at the office before six, and what I need right now is a good night’s sleep. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Well, of course not. Actually, I was thinking of turning in early myself.”

John left a few minutes later after promising to call the next day. Vera locked up after him, and began cleaning the kitchen. The phone rang, and she answered.

There was no response.

“Is anyone there?” she said after a moment.

Finally, a click.

“Well, now, that was odd,” she said to herself as she hung up.

She was in the process of preparing for bed when the telephone rang for the third time. She picked it up. Once again, no answer. “Listen, I can hear you breathing, what do you want?”

Nothing.

“I’m sick and tired of you calling this house. Don’t call me again, do you hear?” She slammed the phone down. “Probably a bunch of kids playing pranks,” she said.

“I HAVE MORE NEWS FOR YOU,” MUFFIN SAID AS Max and Jamie headed for Larry Johnson’s apartment. “It concerns John Price. Do either of you know a Barbara Fender?”

“That’s my new neighbor’s name,” Jamie said. “Why do you ask, Muffin?”

“Bad news,” Muffin said. “Barbara Fender aka Celia Brown Price is John Price’s ex-wife.”

Max and Jamie exchanged looks. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Am I ever wrong?” Muffin asked.

Jamie stared at Max in disbelief. “She followed John from Atlanta.”

“I don’t like what I’m thinking,” Max said.

“Tell me anyway.”

“John Price filed charges that his ex was stalking him, but there was no proof so they were dropped. And later, he was questioned about a woman murdered two houses down from him. I’m willing to bet he was involved with her.” He sighed. “It never occurred to me that the killer could be a woman. What I don’t understand is why she’s doing it. Unless she’s insanely jealous,” he added.

Jamie felt the familiar sense of dread. “Or maybe she’s trying to set him up for a murder rap. She must really hate him. This is scary, Max.”

“We need to talk to Price right away.”

“Problem is, he isn’t home, and he could unknowingly be putting someone else at risk,” Jamie said. She had begun to fidget with her hands. “Assuming he isn’t the killer.”

“First we need to find out if Barbara Fender is home.” Max whipped his car around and headed back to Jamie’s house, making the drive in record time. Barbara Fender’s car was not in the carport.

“This isn’t good,” Jamie said.

“If she was really stalking Price, odds are she’s somewhere watching him. Do you have his phone number handy?”

“Yes, it’s in his file.”

“Why don’t you call and see if he’s home yet?”

BARBARA FENDER DROVE SLOWLY PAST VERA Bankhead’s simple ranch-style house. Darkness had descended; lights burned bright in the windows. Barbara parked her car down the street, cut her headlights, and turned off the engine.

And waited.

VERA GRABBED A QUICK SHOWER, CHANGED INTO her nightgown, and climbed into bed. “Oh, that feels good,” she said, yawning wide as she slipped between the sheets. She didn’t read her daily Scripture as was her custom; instead, she turned off her lamp and closed her eyes. She was asleep in minutes.

JAMIE DIALED JOHN PRICE’S NUMBER. HE PICKED up on the third ring. “Mr. Price, this is Jamie Swift from the
Gazette
,” she said quickly. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but it’s important.”

“How may I help you, Miss Swift?” he asked.

“My partner and I need to speak with you. Is it okay if we come over?”

“Actually, I was just getting ready for bed. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

“It’s rather urgent or I wouldn’t be calling. We only need a minute of your time.”

Silence. “In that case, please come over.”

VERA OPENED HER EYES AND STARED INTO THE darkness as the clanging of something metal sounded from the back of her house. “It’s that stray dog in my garbage can again,” she muttered. “I’ll have a mess to clean up in the morning.” She dozed off again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JAMIE AND MAX ARRIVED AT JOHN PRICE’S HOUSE in half the time it would normally have taken. As they climbed from Max’s car, they heard the dogs barking. John called out from the doorway.

“Don’t worry about the dogs,” he said. “I’ve got them penned.”

Max and Jamie hurried up the front walk. John stepped back to permit them inside. “Mr. Price, I’d like you to meet my partner, Max Holt,” Jamie said.

Price arched one brow. “Not the Max Holt I’ve read about in all the financial magazines.”

“That’s me,” Max said.

Price looked impressed as he motioned them toward the living room. “Please come in and sit down. And call me John.” Max and Jamie sat beside each other on his sofa. Price took the chair on the other side of the coffee table. “You said this was urgent. How can I help you?”

“We’re here to discuss the ad you ran in the newspaper,” Jamie said, “among other things.”

Price glanced at Max, then back at Jamie. He looked embarrassed. “I was hoping that would be kept confidential.”

“It would have been,” Jamie said, “but a couple of women have been murdered, and we think it may be related to the personals section. I’m surprised the police haven’t already questioned you. I was served with a court order to release the files.”

Price looked annoyed at the news. “I read about the murders,” he said after a moment.

“We know you were in contact with Luanne Ritter,” Max said. “What about Maxine Chambers?”

Price hesitated. “I received replies from both ladies right after my ad came out. I took each of them to dinner, but that was the extent of it.” He glanced from Max to Jamie. “I had nothing to do with their murders.”

“You were questioned about the murder of a woman in Atlanta,” Jamie said. “I believe she was a neighbor.”

He looked surprised. “You’ve been checking on me. I wasn’t the only one questioned in that incident.”

“Were you involved with her?”

“We had coffee once or twice. We were both going through a divorce at the time; we sort of used each other as a sounding board. It was nothing more than friendship.”

“The murder was never solved,” Max said.

“I regret that. She was a nice woman.”

“John, didn’t you think it odd that both women you dated were murdered?” Jamie asked.

Once again, he hesitated. “Of course I did, but since I had nothing to do with it I felt no need to go to the police. I’m new in town, and I’ve recently started my own business. The last thing I need is to get entangled in a murder investigation.”

“Why did you leave Atlanta?” Max asked.

“I had my reasons.”

“Did they concern your ex-wife?” Jamie asked.

Once again, he looked annoyed. “Why all these questions?”

“It could be a matter of life or death,” Max said.

Price’s eyes widened. “My ex-wife was hounding me. She didn’t want the divorce, and she did everything possible to make my life a living hell once I left her. My apartment was ransacked twice, and the tires slashed on my car. She even started calling my boss. I swore out a peace bond against her, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t prove she was behind any of it. So I decided to move away and start over.”

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

“Only my daughter and first wife. I still send money for our daughter’s education.”

“Where do you mail the checks?” Max asked.

“To my first wife’s mailbox, of course. She lives in Marietta, Georgia, just north of the Atlanta area.”

“Did your second wife know her address?”

“It was listed in our address book. She would have seen the address where I mailed the checks.”

“That might be one way Barbara found him,” Jamie told Max. “She could have gone through his first wife’s mailbox.”

“Who’s Barbara?” Price asked, obviously confused.

“That’s the name your ex-wife is using,” Max said. “She’s going by the name Barbara Fender.”

Price instantly paled. “Oh, God.”

“What is it?” Max asked.

“That’s the name of the neighbor in Atlanta who was murdered.”

Price stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Her real name is Celia.” He paused and regarded them. “Look, I knew Celia had problems, but I don’t think she’s capable of murder.”

“We don’t have proof of anything,” Max said, “but there are a lot of coincidences.”

“She’s moved in next door to me,” Jamie said.

John was quiet, as though trying to take it all in. “I don’t know what to think. Celia was jealous of everyone I had anything to do with, my daughter, and my friends. She followed me when I left the house. I was always looking over my shoulder because I didn’t know what to expect. I asked her to get help, but she refused. When I filed for divorce, she threatened to get even.”

“Does she hate you enough to try and pin a murder rap on you?” Max asked.

John met his gaze. “She could be cruel. I didn’t know about her problems before we married, but it didn’t take long before she began showing her true colors, so to speak. I regretted the marriage almost from the beginning, but I thought I could help her.”

“You went out earlier this evening,” Max said, changing the subject.

“I had a dinner engagement.”

“With a woman?”

“Yes. She answered my ad.”

“Do you mind telling us who the woman was?”

“I would like to keep that confidential. For her sake,” he added.

“John, she may be in danger,” Jamie said.

He suddenly covered his face with his hands, and his voice trembled when he finally spoke. “I thought it was finally over. I thought I could start living a normal life again. If Celia was responsible for the death of those women, then it’s because I asked them out.”

“John, we have to know who you were with tonight,” Max insisted.

He looked at Jamie. “She works for you,” he said. “Vera Bankhead.”

Jamie felt the blood rush to her ears.

THE SOUND OF BREAKING GLASS WOKE VERA A SECond time. She bolted upright and reached for her telephone to dial 911. The line was dead. Quietly, she climbed from her bed.

“My purse,” she whispered to herself. “Where did I leave it?” She started down the hall, feeling her way. The house was bathed in shadows.

There was a click at the kitchen door, the sound of the lock being turned. A hand fumbled, found the chain, slid it free.

Vera reached the living room, her hands searching the sofa blindly for her purse.

The kitchen door creaked.

Vera found her purse and reached inside for her gun. She raised it, aimed it toward the dark kitchen. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’m holding a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson, and I know how to use it.”

Suddenly, a bright light hit her face. Vera was blinded. She raised her free hand to cover her eyes, as a baseball bat came down hard on her arm. Vera cried out and dropped the gun. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. “Why are you doing this?” she cried, trying to see the face behind the light.

“It’s a pity you won’t live to find out,” the woman said with gritted teeth. The bat came down a second time. Vera cried out again and sank to the floor.

JAMIE WAS THE FIRST TO SPOT BARBARA’S CAR parked a couple of houses down from Vera’s. “There it is!” she cried. “Hurry, Max!”

Max whipped his car into the driveway. “Muffin, hit the siren, and call 911.”

Barbara Fender raised the bat high, a determined look on her face as she aimed for Vera’s head. She jerked around as a siren split the night, and then turned once more for Vera. She shone her flashlight on the floor as Vera reached beneath the sofa for her gun.

JAMIE FELT THE ADRENALINE GUSH THROUGH HER body as she raced toward Vera’s back door with Max on her heels. “Vera!” she called out loudly.

Inside, Barbara ignored both the siren and the voice and raised the bat once more. Vera rolled away, and the bat slammed against the sofa. She raised her gun and fired twice.

The woman staggered once and fell.

Jamie reached the dark kitchen and searched frantically for a light switch. She turned it on and gasped at the sight of Vera pulling herself up and Barbara Fender, with big blond hair, sprawled on the floor. A wig, Jamie thought.

“I think I hit her in the stomach,” Vera said, dropping her gun as the woman writhed in pain.

Jamie saw that Barbara had been hit; her dress was already blood soaked. “Help is on the way,” she said, although she found little reason to pity her. She reached down and checked her arms. Sure enough, she found several deep scratches.

JAMIE PACED THE WAITING AREA IN THE EMERGENCY room as she waited to see Vera. Celia Price had been rushed there by ambulance and was undergoing emergency surgery; Vera had ridden in another ambulance. Lamar Tevis had arrived on the scene only minutes after the injured women had been whisked away. He sat in the waiting room with Max, Jamie, and John Price, as he waited for a chance to question Vera, who had suffered a broken arm.

“I honestly had no idea Celia would resort to murder,” Price told Lamar, “but it all adds up. I feel terrible about this.” He’d already told Lamar about the murder in Atlanta, and his suspicions that his ex might have been responsible.

Jamie noted the man’s face was a chalky white. He was obviously in shock. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “You can’t control the actions of others.” She said it as much for herself as for him.

Lamar nodded. “I’ll notify the authorities in Atlanta to reopen the case.” He frowned. “Why do you suppose she did it?”

Price shook his head. “Revenge, maybe. I think part of me suspected she would find me one day.” He looked at Max. “That’s the reason for the dogs. Still, nothing could have prepared me for this.”

A nurse stepped out. “Is there a Mr. Price here?”

“I’m John Price,” he said, standing.

“Miss Bankhead is asking for you.”

John followed the nurse through the metal doors leading into the ER. He stepped inside a small room where Vera wore a cast on one arm.

“Max told me everything as we were waiting for the ambulance,” she said.

“Vera, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I don’t know how I will live with this.”

“You’re not responsible, John. You had no way of knowing.”

“I should have put two and two together. I should have known Celia would stop at nothing to get back at me for leaving her. Those poor women.” He raked his hands through his hair. The look on his face was bleak. “She could have killed you.”

“But she didn’t, and it’s behind us now. Your ex-wife, if she survives the surgery, will never have the chance to kill again.”

John stepped closer to Vera’s bed and took one of her hands in his. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but where does this leave us?”

Vera hesitated. “I don’t know, John. I need time.”

He nodded. “I guess we both do. At least until we get through this.”

“We can still be friends.”

A look of vulnerability crossed his face. “Thank you. I’m going to need a friend.”

DESTINY AND SAM RUSHED THROUGH THE DOORS to the ER. “What’s wrong?” Destiny demanded.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Jamie asked.

“I had this feeling that something was terribly wrong. I called the police. All they would tell me was that there had been a shooting. So I asked Sam to give me a ride over. Who’s hurt?”

Jamie filled her in.

Sam regarded Destiny with a look of awe. “You were right. You
are
psychic.”

“I tried to tell you,” she said.

“Hello, Sam,” Jamie said. “It’s been a long time.” They shook hands, and she introduced him to Max.

“What do you think of Destiny’s friend, Ronnie?” Max asked Sam, as though to lighten the mood.

Sam offered him a blank look. “Who’s Ronnie?”

Destiny shot Max a look, reached for Sam’s hand and patted it. “We’ll talk about it later, honey.” She turned to Jamie. “This is probably a bad time to bring it up, but I answered most of the mail.”

“More has come in since the last batch,” Jamie said. “The responses have been overwhelming.”

“I knew that. I’ll pick them up and give you the other letters tomorrow. After it stops raining,” she added. “I like to sleep late when it rains.”

“That makes two of us,” Sam said. They shared a private look.

“Rain?” Jamie said. “The weatherman isn’t forecasting rain. In fact, the temperatures are going to be even worse than they have been.”

“The weatherman is wrong,” Destiny said with a shrug. “It’s going to rain and finally cool things off. And not a moment too soon, if you ask me.”

Destiny and Sam stayed and chatted a while until John Price joined them and told Jamie that Vera was asking for her. Jamie joined the woman a moment later.

“How are you?”

“How the heck do you think I am? I have a broken arm. But don’t worry, I’ll still be able to work.”

“Maybe you should take a vacation,” Jamie said. “You’ve certainly earned it after what you’ve been through.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks, a broken arm isn’t going to stop me. Besides, who will run the newspaper if I’m not there?”

“True.”

“I called you back here because I want first dibs on this story.”

Jamie arched one brow. “I should have known.”

“I’ll give you editorial control, but I think it’s high time you let me write some of the articles. I
am
the assistant editor, after all, and I’m tired of watching Mike get all the glory.”

“Okay, Vera, whatever it takes to make you happy.”

“So, what do you think of John?”

“He’s a very nice man, but he’s having a hard time dealing with all this. So am I.”

Vera took her hand and squeezed it. “I know, honey. But we’ve gotten through tough times before, and we’ll get through this.” She brightened. “So, you think I should let John sleep over tonight?”

“Vera!”

“Just kidding. But if I start dating him, I’m going to need a few pointers.”

Jamie was glad Vera could be so upbeat after what she’d been through. “It’s always a good idea to follow your instincts. Don’t do anything until you know you’re ready.”

Vera sat up in the bed. “I’ve got to get out of this place. If I stay here any longer, I’m going to catch something. Would you please find my doctor and tell him I said to get his fanny in here? He’s the young one who looks like Andy Garcia. If I were forty years younger, I’d jump his bones.”