ILL-TIMED ENTANGLEMENTS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #2) (23 page)

She saw the anxiety in his eyes as he tried to look nonchalant. Again, she covered his hand with hers. “Rob’s a reasonable man. He’ll come around. It’ll be okay.”

The food in his mouth saved Skip from the impulse to kiss her. It’s hard to swallow and kiss at the same time. She took her hand away just in time, and started twirling fettuccini on her fork.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, although neither of them was really tasting their food. Deciding it was time to turn to lighter subjects, Kate asked Skip if he had always lived in Maryland. He told her he was from Texas. He’d come to Maryland to study criminal justice at Towson University and had stayed when he’d landed a job with the state police.

“Aha, I thought I caught a hint of Texas in your voice now and again,” Kate said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Skip exaggerated his drawl. “I’m Texan born an’ bred.” Then he continued in his normal voice, “But I’ve been in Maryland long enough now, I talk funny like you Northerners.”

“Is that where you learned Spanish? In Texas.”

“Yup, had a couple Chicano buddies in high school. I wouldn’t say I’m fluent but I can get by.”

There was something else she was curious about, more than curious actually, but it would be outrageously bold of her to ask about it. But then again, his answer could be a deal breaker.

Despite the lip service society gave to the idea that looks shouldn’t matter in a relationship, she knew that people tended to be attracted to romantic partners who were at their own level of physical attractiveness. She could still remember her undergraduate social psychology professor talking about the research on the subject and then saying how this was good news for everyone, that even if you were butt ugly, there was still someone out there for you.

Oh, what the hell.
If this man wanted to have a relationship with her, he might as well get used to the way she was. He’d either handle it, or not. She smiled a little as she recalled Mac’s father’s description of her personality. “Straight up, no ice, no soda, that’s our Katie,” Sean Reilly used to say.

After a sip of wine to bolster her nerve, she said, “I have another question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“I think of myself as reasonably attractive but I’m far from beautiful. And I would describe you as just shy of an Adonis. So how come you’re attracted to me?”

Skip dropped his fork and sat back in his chair. “Phew! You don’t mess around on non-dates, do you? I’m a little afraid to find out what you might say on a real date.”

Then he gave her a long appraising look. “You’re right. I would not call you beautiful, at least not in the classic sense of the word. But you’re a very attractive woman. Nice features, good skin…”

“Good heavens, he’s going to be prying my mouth open in a minute to look at my teeth.”

“Hey, when a woman fishes for a compliment, she should not get snitty about how it is delivered.”

“Is snitty a word?”

“It is now,” he said. “Are you going to let me finish?”

“Of, course. You were saying how attractive I am.” She gave him an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes.

Skip chuckled, but then his voice turned serious. “To me you are. Pretty much the most attractive woman I know.”

“Oh, come on. With that physique and handsome face…” Kate blushed a little when she realized what she was saying. “You mean to tell me that you don’t have beautiful women flocking to your doorstep all the time.”

For a second, Skip was tempted to get mad. Did she think he was that shallow, that looks were all that mattered to him? But he suspected that wasn’t what she’d meant to imply.

“Okay, let me clarify two things,” he said. “First, inside this Adonis beats the heart of a scrawny sixteen-year-old who got the crap beaten out of him because of his goofy name. Second, I am attracted to women, not Barbie dolls. When I find a woman attractive, it is because of the whole package.”

He stopped to appraise her again for a moment. “The adorable face, the nice figure, the
sound teeth
.” She chuckled. “The intelligent mind and the… hmm, I think in your case the word would be refreshing, the refreshing personality.”

“Ding, ding, ding! Right answer, Mr. Canfield! And your prize is several more non-dates with your friend, Kate Huntington.”

Skip burst out laughing. “Kate, you are…”

“Refreshing?” she suggested, with a twinkle in her eye.

“This time I was thinking incorrigible.” He grinned at her.

They ate for a few minutes in companionable silence. Skip was contemplating telling this woman something he had never shared with anyone before. He topped off her wine glass but left his half full since he was driving.

“I was serious, Kate, about the scrawny sixteen-year-old trapped inside. I don’t know if it’s true for people in general, but for me that image of myself, that I developed as a teenager, is still there. I’ve looked like this for two decades now.” Skip pointed to his muscular chest. “But I still do a double-take sometimes when I see myself in a mirror. It’s like I momentarily forget that I’m not still five-eight and a hundred and thirty pounds.”

“That makes sense.” Kate realized that although Skip joked about it, his adolescence had left some emotional scar tissue. “Our teens are when we’re forming our sense of identity, and body image is a huge part of that for kids. I was incredibly self-conscious about my hair. Straight hair was in vogue, and no matter what I did, my curls were out of control. My mother wouldn’t let me get it straightened. She said God had given me a beautiful head of curls and straightening them would be a sin.”

Skip reached across the table and briefly fingered one of her dark curls. “She was right,” he said softly.

Kate dropped her eyes to her plate.
Sweet Jesus!
This man’s touch could even make her hair follicles tingle. She reached for her wine glass and took a healthy gulp.

To change the subject, she said, “So sixteen plus two decades. You’re thirty-six?”

“Thirty-eight. Missed being a baby-boomer by just a few years.”

Kate breathed a soft sigh of relief. He was only a year younger than she was.

The waitress delivered the to-go meals and collected the check, after a short tussle over who would pay. Skip won that argument. “Kate, this may be a non-date, but I am paying. It was my idea to stop here to eat.”

As they walked across the parking lot toward the Explorer, Kate suddenly stopped. Skip turned toward her. Smiling up at him, she said, “Skip, this was the best first non-date I have ever had.”

W
hen they returned to the motel, Kate knocked on Liz and Rob’s outside door. Liz answered. Kate handed her the bag of styrofoam containers. “He’s in the suite living room,” Liz whispered.

“How about calling him to dinner before we go in there,” Kate whispered back.

“Good idea.” Liz closed the door. A few seconds later Kate and Skip heard her calling out, a few decibels below her normal booming volume so as not to wake Betty, “Kate’s back to stay with Aunt Betty, and our food’s here. Come and get it!”

Kate waited another moment or two and then unlocked the suite door with her key. Rob just nodded at her, a neutral look on his face, as he went through the adjoining door to his room.

“Good night, Skip,” she whispered back over her shoulder as she headed for the suite’s bedroom.

Conversation over their room-service breakfast the next morning was rather stiff. Only Betty seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, or at least she was pretending not to notice.

They had just finished eating, when Rob’s cell phone rang. He answered it, listened for a moment, then swore under his breath. “We’ll be there soon,” he said and disconnected.

“What’s wrong? Are Mac and Rose okay?” Kate asked, her heart in her throat.

Rob nodded. “They’re fine, but there’s been another murder.” His voice was grim. “A man this time. No official release of the name yet, but Mac overheard a couple people say Jeff…”

“Jeff… Jeff Morgan?” Betty cried out.

Kate leaned over from her chair next to Betty’s and put an arm around the elderly woman’s shoulders. Betty started sobbing into her hands. Liz came around the table to kneel on the other side of her chair. “Is he… was he a friend?” Liz asked.

Face still buried in her hands, Betty shook her head slightly. “Not close friends, no,” she choked out, then raised her head and looked at Liz. “Why would anyone want to harm Jeff? He’s one of the kindest, gentlest people I’ve ever known.” Her face crumpled again. “Why is somebody doing this?”

Kate tightened her arm around Betty’s shoulders, realizing her reaction was to more than this man’s death. Somebody was turning her safe, well-ordered world into chaos.

Liz patted Betty’s arm sympathetically. “Can I get you anything? What can we do to help?”

“Take me home!”

“Okay. We’ll come back here to sleep tonight, but for now, we’ll take you home, Aunt Betty,” Rob said gently. He was thinking that he was going to track down Lindstrom today and push him hard to let them take his aunt back to Maryland with them.

At Betty’s building, they were blocked from entry by uniformed officers and yellow crime scene tape. When arguing, begging and cajoling didn’t work, Kate said, “Could you please tell Detective Lindstrom that Kate Huntington would like to see him? Right away. It’s very important.” Rob took his aunt back to sit in their air-conditioned car.

After a few minutes, the detective came out of the building. Kate rushed over to him. “Somehow good morning doesn’t seem like the right thing to say,” he commented in lieu of a greeting. “What can I do for you, Kate?”

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your investigation, Sandy.” Kate kept her voice low. “But we need to get Mrs. Franklin into her apartment. She’s very upset, and has been getting more depressed as this whole thing has dragged out. I’m really getting concerned about her health.”

Lindstrom took her arm and led her out of earshot of the uniforms and some curious residents standing nearby. Kate didn’t see the funny look on Skip’s face.

“There’s been another death…” the detective began.

“I know,” Kate said. “Mac called and told us.”

“Well, this one did a header off the second level onto the atrium’s slate floor.”

Kate grimaced.

“Yeah,” Sandy said, rubbing his hand down his unshaven face. He hadn’t been home in over twenty-four hours. “It’s pretty gruesome in there. Right now I’ve got the uniforms keeping everybody in their apartments, and nobody else is supposed to come into the building.”

“Isn’t there some way we could get her in without her seeing…” Kate’s voice trailed off.

“Hmm, there’s an emergency exit at the end of the hall by her apartment. No handle on the outside, but I’ll go in and open it from the inside. Bring her around to the side of the building.”

Kate grabbed his hand and shook it. “Thanks, Sandy. You’re a… good man.” She’d been about to say “a sweetheart” but decided that would be too encouraging.

Kate raced over to Rob’s car. He and Liz escorted Betty to the emergency door while Kate and Skip trailed behind, carrying the posterboard lists.

A few minutes later, Betty was settled on the settee with a cup of tea and the others were scattered around the living room, some of them again in the straight-backed chairs from the dining area.

The doorbell rang. It was Detective Lindstrom.

Skip vacated his chair so the detective could sit down. He walked around and stood behind Kate, resting one hand on the back of her chair in an unconscious possessive gesture.

Rob stifled the urge to frown at him, then turned his attention to the detective who was asking Aunt Betty about her association with the newest victim.

When Betty had finished describing a quiet, gentle man, who was always quick with a kind word, her body was slumping and there were tears pooled in her eyes. She excused herself to lie down for awhile.

“Is it possible this was a suicide, Detective?” Kate asked, once the elderly woman was out of the room.

“Possible, but it would be one heck of a coincidence. Several plants were knocked off the ledge. He could have done that himself if he had just dived over, but it would make more sense to lift them down and then climb onto the shelf.”

“And there’s no guarantee that a one-story drop would kill you, even head first onto a slate floor,” Skip said. “Wouldn’t be most people’s first choice as a method of committing suicide.”

“May I point out, Detective,” Rob said, “that my aunt has a solid alibi this time. One of us has been with her day and night, and we’ve been taking her back to the motel to sleep at night. Not to mention, she has no motive to harm Mr. Morgan.”

Lindstrom nodded slightly but then said, “Honestly, Mr. Franklin, I’d love to be able to say that this latest crime has cleared your aunt of suspicion. But I can’t. First of all, that would only be true if indeed all the murders are related. There is the possibility that someone else had a reason to kill Jeffrey Morgan and decided now would be a good time to do that, so his death would be blamed on whoever killed the women.

“And there is also the possibility that the killer, whoever it may be, murdered this man just to throw us off. Because he doesn’t fit the pattern. Different gender, not in the writers’ club.”

“So with nothing tying this victim to the others, you’re basically back to square one.” Rob was not completely able to keep the frustration out of his voice.

The detective didn’t reply. He looked around the room. “I thank you all for your input but I really don’t think you should keep trying to investigate this yourselves. It’s gotten way too dangerous for amateurs.”

“Lindstrom, this is ridiculous!” Rob snapped. “You won’t let us take Aunt…”

“Detective Lindstrom,” Skip intentionally interrupted, in a calm but firm voice, “I’m a licensed PI and I was a Maryland State trooper for eleven years. These two have military and police background as well.” He nodded toward Mac and Rose. “We’re trained investigators, not amateurs. And Mr. Franklin and Mrs. Huntington are both in professions that require keen observational and analytical skills. Not to mention Mrs. Franklin is a whiz at computer research. Frankly, I think we’re a pretty damned formidable team.”