Ring Around the Rosy (17 page)

Dave handed her a cup of coffee
when she came into the small kitchen. With a quick kiss on her cheek, he took
her in his arms and nuzzled her hair with his chin.

Susan cuddled closer against his
chest. Her breast perked up at the close contact. Fresh coffee and welcoming
arms, what a way to start the day. Content to stay that way, she noticed the
time on the clock behind him. Eight o’clock. She’d have to hurry.
 
It was almost time to meet Gary at the
Playhouse. Good thing Dave was here — she hadn’t set the alarm. The interview
was scheduled for ten. Preferring to stay in Dave’s arms, she pulled away
reluctantly.

After grabbing a piece of bacon
and foregoing breakfast, she drained a quick cup of coffee, walked to her car,
and stood for a minute, inhaling the fresh autumn air and smoldering scent of
burning wood, probably from someone’s fireplace. The crisp autumn air had
turned the leaves, the trees exploding in a multitude of color. For all of its
beauty, Susan thought it a sad time of year. Winter wasn’t far away, and it
wasn’t a season she looked forward to or enjoyed.

She hated the winter cold that
engulfed her body, and the discomfort of layering clothes to protect against
the elements, rain, sleet and snow. The snow always presented a challenge,
fighting slippery roads that drivers, like herself, didn’t know how to drive
on, let alone maneuver through gnarled traffic jams and accidents on the icy
streets.

But today, the sun sparkled off
the rusts and golds of the trees. Enjoying the cooler autumn day, Susan drove
with her window partway down, radio blaring country music. She turned it down
when she approached the Playhouse in the center of town.

Gary stood out front, waiting for
her, his camera equipment at his feet. She slipped her car into an available parking
space, grabbed her purse and notebooks, and hurried to meet him.

Though she loved the old Playhouse
and its historic architecture, the festival, a part of the Playhouse Square’s
annual open house and arts festival, didn’t interest her. Fortunately, the
interview went quickly, and Doris Potter, the Director of Education for the
center, was well-prepared and answered all of her questions with a
professional, efficient attitude.

Gary offered to buy her lunch, and
she accepted. Not having time for the breakfast Dave had fixed, her stomach had
started growling midway through the interview.

They lunched at a deli down the
street from the playhouse, with a counter for orders to go in the front of the
restaurant and a few tables in the back. They also sold loaves of rye bread,
corned beef, and other luncheon meats by the pound. Susan inhaled the delicious
aromas and followed Gary to the back of the building, past a counter with
stools, to an area where six tables of four were set.

It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, and
could do with some remodeling and decorating, even her untrained eye noticed,
but it had a reputation for the best corned beef sandwiches around.

The pungent odor of corned beef,
garlic, and sauerkraut made her stomach growl even louder. She ordered the
corned beef on rye. Though her mouth really watered for a Reuben with the
sauerkraut, she thought better of it.

Gary made quiet conversation, not
pumping her for information on the nursery rhyme case the way Ray had. Instead,
he talked of his dream to publish a series of coffee table books.

Never having a serious
conversation with Gary that didn’t pertain to work, it surprised her when he
revealed this about himself.

“I’m really interested in nature
photography,” he told her.

“That’s terrific. I hope you
realize your dream. Have you taken many photos?”

“Oh yeah, mostly flowers. But I go
to the Cuyahoga Valley National parks and take photos of birds and deer.”
Gary’s voice held a tone of pride.
 
“Every spring, I photograph the Blue Herons nesting near Peninsula,
Ohio.”

“No kidding. Wow! I had no idea
they nested there.” Not being a nature fanatic, she had no idea about any of
it, and truth be told, she didn’t much care. But Gary displayed exuberance
she’d never seen in him. Not that she’d ever had an opportunity to talk with
him at length before.

All in all, it was a pleasant
lunch, and unlike the lunches with Ray, she stayed until the end and allowed
Gary to pay, but she insisted on leaving the tip. Not that it mattered; it was
a tax write–off, anyway.

Susan walked to her car, half
afraid to look at it and heaved a sigh of relief. No roses, thank goodness. She
got in and drove home, enjoying the quiet peacefulness of the day.

Chapter Fourteen

Susan arrived home and played back
her answering machine, relieved there were no messages. She returned her
mother’s call and was pleased to hear her father planned to go back to work
soon.

“But the days go by so slowly,”
her mother complained.

Susan understood. Her mother
wasn’t used to staying home. She had her own job. Luckily, she also had a lot
of vacation time built up, and was able to stay home while her father
recovered.

The police still didn’t have a
suspect in the shooting. From all witness accounts, it sounded like a random
act of just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either that or he
foiled a robbery attempt. A crime like that in the Riverdale area caught
everyone off guard. Made people nervous. Susan certainly understood that. It
didn’t seem to matter which neighborhood you lived in-crime happened
everywhere.

Susan still resented the fact that
Hill had made reference to her and the murders. And, it didn’t take the
Riverdale Rag long to pick up on it. Her name was still splattered across the
paper every time something new came up in the case.

Clare visited her parents every
day. A gnawing guilt ate at Susan that she wouldn’t be able to visit for a
couple of days. If only Kate wasn’t so far away. At least Clare and her mother
were able to leave her father long enough to go grocery shopping. Not that her
mother couldn’t do it on her own. She was more than capable. But she seemed to
enjoy the company — even Clare’s, now that she had finally calmed down.

“I swear, Susan,” her mother’s
voice brought her back to their conversation. “Something’s going on with your
sister. All she talks about is Steve, and how much time he’s spending away from
home. What’s going on there? Do you know?”

“She’s the same way with me.”
Susan feigned ignorance. Far be it from her to tell her mother what was going
on. That was up to Clare. She wished she didn’t know herself. Too bad Clare had
confided in her. Although Susan figured the poor girl had to confide in
someone.

Instead of whining, Clare should
do something about it. What, Susan had no idea. She’d never been in that
situation. But there had to be something. What her sister needed to do was
throw herself into her work.

At least Clare had a job now. The
woman had catered to Steve too much, to all of them, actually. She never did
anything just for her. Steve and the kids were Clare’s life, which worked for a
while.
 
Susan bet if her sister would
have had a job a long time ago, she wouldn’t have given in to that jerk.

Something told her Steve might
have found her a little more interesting, too. Maybe he wouldn’t have taken
Clare so much for granted. Susan sighed as she hung up the phone. These weren’t
things she could tell her mother, and Clare had to figure it out for herself.

After the phone call, Susan sat
down to write the playhouse story.

Festival on Playhouse Square—
The weekend promises to be filled with a wide variety of
activities. Face painters, dancers, and stilt walkers, in colorful costumes,
will parade along sidewalks filled with karaoke performers. The Plaza has been
turned into a dance floor for anyone caring to take advantage of the lively
tunes performed by various bands.

Hitting the send key on her
computer fax, the story was now on its way to the newsroom. She probably could
have added more, but Ernie said space for this story was limited.

Exhausted, Susan leaned back and
closed her eyes. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of seeing
Dave. Not wanting to fall asleep, she decided to make him another dinner.

But first, she needed to make a
shopping list. Tapping the pencil on the counter, she drew a blank about what
to cook and pulled out her favorite cookbook. She quickly decided on meatloaf,
garlic mashed potatoes, with creamed cauliflower-broccoli-carrot medley as the
vegetable. She grabbed her keys, hurried out the door, and kicked the two roses
lying on the floor.

Annoyed, she slammed the door,
locked it, and raced down the steps. As usual, on the way to Meliti’s Market,
she went past the park.

For some reason it seemed to
beckon to her. Silly, but she paused and turned up the path. How often had she
come here with Jill and the kids? Up to now, she had avoided even walking past
it, going around the block to Meliti’s. With the cooler temperatures and most
of the kids in school, only parents with preschoolers came here now. Seemed
they came in groups. Probably afraid to come alone, and who could blame them.
She passed a few joggers and turned away from the place Jack and Jill had been
found. She’d probably never go back there. She stopped near the swings and
remembered Jack pushing his son.

Susan sat on one of the swings.
God, how she had loved swinging, loved the feel of the wind on her face, the
feeling of flying. She pushed back and held her feet up, releasing the motion
of the swing, leaned back, and pumped. Higher and higher, until she thought if
she didn’t stop, the swing would go over the top. Still she pumped higher, as
if swinging higher could make her forget. Make all her problems go away, like
she could throw them to the wind.

Swinging had always given her a
sense of freedom. But not today. Today, she felt trapped Trapped in sorrow for
her friends, trapped in anger against the bastard who had taken away so many
innocent lives. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to forget. But she
doubted if she ever would.

Finally, she quit pumping and
coasted until the swing slowed enough for her to put her feet on the ground and
stop. She slid off the swing and watched it sway back and forth. She’d probably
never come back here. She had loved this place once. Now, it was a bitter
memory.

She hurried past the water
fountain and refused to look. Everything here held a painful memory. Too many
lives were lost here. Susan pulled her jacket tight around her. Suddenly cold,
she hurried out of the park, and, at the entrance, turned and took one last
look. No, she’d never come back. She turned up the street and hurried into
Meliti’s Market.

As usual, the sweet aroma of
pastries and sauces made her mouth water, enticing her to try something
different, though there wasn’t too much different she could try. She had bought
every homemade sauce from the Marinara to the Alfredo. At one time or another,
she had purchased all the prepared meals. The prices were a little higher here,
but the warmth, friendliness, and delicious food made it worthwhile, and she
liked to contribute to the small businesses in her neighborhood, rather than
the huge grocery chain stores.

Trying to put the murders and
roses out of her mind, she walked up and down each aisle; looking at items she
had no intention of buying, just to kill time. She spent extra time in the
produce section picking out the broccoli and cauliflower, then wandered around
in front of the pastry counter, hoping old Mrs. Meliti would stop and gossip.
Angelo’s wife said hello, but there was no sign of the elder Mrs. Meliti.
Instead, Tony cornered her at the meat counter and asked her about the case.

“I knew those guys,” he said. “And
Mr. and Mrs. Shipman used to come in here all the time with their kids. Ms.
Arnold, too.” He shook his head. His shoulders drooped and he spoke in a
monotone voice.“I can’t believe it. Why would anyone want to hurt such nice
people?”

An overwhelming feeling of sadness
hit Susan. She didn’t have an answer, and though Tony had always been friendly,
he had never talked on such a personal level before. Tears burned her eyes and
she bit her lip.

Tony ground the meat fresh instead
of taking it out of the case. Smiling a sad smile, he handed her the meat and
winked. “I added a little extra. No charge.”

Funny what the death of someone
you knew did to a person. All of a sudden, you realized life was short and
material things didn’t matter. She smiled back and took the groceries up front
to check out. Such a good-looking young man, no wonder the women were crazy
about him and tagged him with the nickname. He was personality plus.

Amanda, Tony’s sister, checked her
out with no conversation other than her normal hello and have-a-nice-day
comments. Like a robot, she rang up the groceries, the total opposite of Tony,
shy and reserved. But her beauty rivaled that of any model. With her long black
hair, olive complexion, and tall, slender build, she could easily be a cover
girl.

Susan walked the two blocks to her
apartment, taking her time going home, and taking pleasure in the cool crispness
of the fall day. She liked walking along the street, enjoying the architecture
of the neighborhood. Major renovations were taking place on many of the homes
and buildings, restoring them back to their glory days. She loved the Thayer’s
Crossing area, loved the history of the place and the old Victorian homes. She
could imagine what it must have been like way back when.