Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (51 page)

“Nick.” Her voice implored him to leave.

“Lorry!”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“We don’t have to go far. There must be someplace around here we can eat. Just for a little while. Please?”

“You’re impossible. And you’re getting soaked. Oh, all right, but I’ll have to tell Dave and Marie.”

Nick took the umbrella from Lorry and held it as they walked through the rain to the house where she was staying.

She invited him inside to meet the Spaldings. Marie’s pale skin and straight blond hair contrasted with her husband’s ebony skin and curly black hair. Both expressed delight in meeting Nick.

“Never mind going out to eat in this miserable weather,” Marie said cheerfully. “I made stew and there’s a ton of it. You’re more than welcome to eat here.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Lorry asked, ignoring the look in Nick’s eyes.

“Of course not. You’ll soon learn that we love company. Lorry, if you’ll just set another place. Dave, fill a pitcher with water and finish the salad for me, please. Nick, I wonder if you would mind giving Darren the last of his cereal?”

“I don’t know anything about feeding kids.”

“Oh, he’s easy. Just get half a spoonful and put it in front of his mouth. He loves his cereal.”

After a last pleading look Lorry chose to ignore, Nick took off the light jacket he’d worn because of the rain, and sat on the old chrome kitchen chair beside the baby’s highchair. He dutifully began to spoon cereal into the wide-open mouth. “I thought babies spit this stuff out,” Nick said after a few minutes.

“Not all babies,” Marie replied cheerfully. “And not all the time. Only if they aren’t hungry or they dislike the taste. But Darren seems to be always hungry, and so far he loves his cereal. Brenda was a lot fussier.”

“Brenda?”

As if on cue, a three-year-old wandered into the room with her doll. Seeing Nick, she bounded over to him. “Hi!”

“Uh, hi.”

She held out a dark-skinned doll. “Can you feed my dolly some, too? She’s hungry.”

“I don’t think so. She can’t eat this stuff.”

“I know that.” The tiny girl shook her black curls scornfully. “You just ’tend feed. Don’t you know anything ’bout dollies?”

Two hours later, when the meal was over and the dishes washed and Marie and Dave had excused themselves to put their children to bed, Lorry and Nick sat in the small living room on well-worn unmatched chairs and looked at each other. Seeing clearly was rather difficult. Though it was only eight o’clock, the clouds and rain had made it dark outside. An old ivory floor lamp and a newer ceramic table lamp provided the only light.

“This wasn’t exactly what I’d planned,” Nick said.

“Oh?” Her voice was innocent.

“Can we go for a walk?”

“In the rain? Anyway, I’ve been told this isn’t a good neighborhood to go for walks in at night.”

“Don’t you think I could look after you?”

Manziuk’s words hung in Lorry’s mind. “Why do you want to get me alone?” she asked bluntly.

“Why do I—?” His voice was puzzled. “I don’t want to ‘get you alone.’ I just want to talk to you, and it’s hard to say what I want to in front of other people. Especially people we don’t even know.”

“They aren’t here right now.”

“I know that, but…” He rubbed his forehead with both hands, and then threw his arms out, palms up, “Okay. I give up. I wanted to—” He made a fist of his right hand and pounded it into the palm of his left one as he spoke. “This isn’t exactly easy. Mostly, I just want to say I’d like to get to know you better.”

“This is me.” She indicated the room.

“What?”

“This room, this house, these people, small children, thanking God for the food and asking his blessing on our lives, talking about other people we’re trying to help—this is me.”

“You mean what you’re used to.”

“That’s right. My home is similar to this one. And I fit in here. It’s what I want out of life.”

Nick caught her mood. “Church on Sunday, a car that needs a check-up, toys everywhere, people dropping in for a meal. I get the picture.”

“It’s very different from your life.”

“I know.”

“I won’t change.”

“I know that, too.” His eyes stared intently into hers. “I’m the one who has to do the changing.”

She felt as though there was a lump the size of a golf ball in her throat. Her voice, when she finally found it, was husky and low. “Do you want to?”

“Last Friday afternoon, before I met you, I’d have said there wasn’t a chance on this earth. Now—I’m not so sure. I’ve never met anyone like you. I don’t understand how you think and I won’t pretend I do. I don’t honestly know if I could live like this and do all the things you do. But right now, I have to consider it.” He stood and paced the small area that was free of chairs and toys. “Don’t think I haven’t tried to put you out of my mind, because I have. I’ve told myself I’m crazy. Only—no luck.” He stopped pacing and sat down again, leaning forward to take one of her hands. “What I need, Lorry, is to know that if I do decide to change, you’d be there.”

“You mean is it worth it?”

His mouth twisted into a curve. “Yeah. I guess. You said there was a guy back in Edmonton. What about him? And, bottom line, do you think you could care for me if I were to change?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. When she did, her voice was so low he had to listen intently. “Nick, when you offer to change so you will be acceptable to me, it’s very flattering, but it just doesn’t work. You can’t simply change the way you are on the outside. When people change, it has to be from the inside out.

“The bottom line, as you put it, is that we have very little in common. You like partying and drinking and going out with a lot of girls and having a good time. If you simply try to act as though you don’t like those things, first of all it won’t last, and second it won’t be real. You’d grow to hate me for making you false to yourself.”

“But, Lorry, I’ve never met anybody like you. I didn’t even know people like you existed! It’s not just that I’m attracted to you because you’re beautiful or anything like that. I like being around you, talking to you, even arguing with you. I can’t imagine not seeing you again.” He stood up and went to a window. With his back to her, his face hidden from her, he said, “Lorry, I don’t understand myself. Maybe it’s got something to do with seeing Jillian. It was like opening an old wound that I thought was healed. She hurt me, badly, and I guess I just covered it up.

“Four years ago, I thought Jillian was what I wanted, but seeing her on Friday, I didn’t feel anything. In fact, it wasn’t very long at all before I wondered what kind of total idiot I was to ever think I wanted to marry her. And I guess that got me wondering if I was still a total idiot.”

He still had his back to her. “The truth is I started off spending time with you because Kendall had asked me to. He was afraid his mother was trying to matchmake, and he already has someone. He asked me to look after you so Ellen wouldn’t get her hopes up. But by Saturday night, I was hooked. Then you and Peter talked, and I realized just how totally different we are. And how hopeless it is.”

He spun to face her. He was next to the floor lamp and the light it cast made half of his face look overly bright and haggard while leaving the other half in shadows. “It isn’t that I want to
pretend
to be the kind of person you could—you could care about. I want to be that person. But I don’t know how.”

There was a knock on the front door.

They both turned to look at it. The knock was repeated. Lorry got up to turn on the outside light and open the door.

Manziuk and Ryan stood there.

Manziuk said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“Nick here?”

“Yes.”

“We hate to interrupt, but I’m afraid he’s going to have to come in for questioning.”

Nick came up behind Lorry. “Are you arresting me, Inspector?”

NINETEEN

I want to ask you some questions,” Manziuk said. “Will you come with us now?”

“You could ask me your questions right here,” Nick said.

“I’d prefer for you to come down to the station.”

Manziuk’s voice was light but Nick heard the iron behind it. “How did you know I was here?” he asked. “Were you having me followed?”

“Will you come, please?”

Nick’s jaw dropped. “You were, weren’t you? You had someone following me. You really think I did it!”

“Mr. Donovan, I’d rather discuss this at headquarters if you don’t mind,” said Manziuk.

Nick noticed that Ryan had put her hand inside her purse. “Okay, I’ll come peacefully.” He turned to Lorry. “Sorry to put a damper on your evening. Or were you hoping this would happen? It certainly came at a convenient time for you, didn’t it?” As he put on his jacket, he looked into her eyes. “Still think I did it?”

“I never said I thought you did it.”

“You came close enough.” He went past her. “Okay, officers, I’ll go peacefully. Hey, should I represent myself or should I get a real lawyer? What do you think?” His words were flippant, but Lorry had seen the whiteness around his lips.

He walked out between Manziuk and Ryan, and Lorry stood watching until the car had driven off, water splashing from the tires as it went.

Dave came down the stairs. “I thought I heard someone at the door. Has Nick gone already?”

At the station, Nick was taken to Manziuk’s office and Ryan indicated where he should sit. She sat nearby: Manziuk took the chair behind the desk.

“Okay, what’s this about?” Nick asked.

Manziuk took his time answering. “Mr. Donovan, you have no alibi for either murder. You were alone in the rose garden when Jillian Martin was killed. You could easily have gone to the Japanese garden and back to the rose garden. You could even have walked with Mrs. Martin to the Japanese garden and then killed her. You had time to go back to the rose garden and make it look as though you were just coming out. We’re quite certain Crystal Winston was near the entrance to the rose garden at one point in the afternoon. There’s every chance she saw you either going to or from the Japanese garden.”

He leaned forward to continue, but Ryan suddenly interrupted as an idea hit her.

“Or perhaps,” she said, “it was what she didn’t see. Perhaps she didn’t see you in the rose garden.”

“Possibly,” Manziuk said. “Now, what else was I going to say?” He put his glasses on and picked up a notebook. “Oh, yes, we know that at some point on Sunday you were very close to Jillian Martin. Several of her hairs and traces of her face powder were found on your shirt. Also, your prints were on the typewriter and you were seen typing. Why not the note threatening Jillian?

“When Crystal realized what she’d seen—or hadn’t seen—” he bowed toward Ryan, “she spoke to you, and you asked her to meet you at the back of the house. You knew she could easily get the key to unlock the back gate and if you went out to the ravine the body wouldn’t be found right away. Also, if she cried out back there, no one would hear. You may have agreed to pay her. Or she may have thought she was in love with you. Either way, you used her trust to get her alone and then you killed her.

“You used Douglass Fischer’s tennis shoes, which happened to fit you and happened to be placed conveniently in the change house. You knew about the black jogging suit in the hall closet, so you put it on over your clothes. And you told Crystal to wear black so she wouldn’t be seen.

“But you made one mistake. You didn’t put quite enough Seconal in the Coke you gave the policeman who was guarding the house. I got his report this afternoon. He says you were talking to Bart and Kendall on the patio late Sunday night. You left for a short time and came back with Lorry Preston. Kendall and Bart went off to Bart’s apartment. He got the impression Bart was intoxicated and Kendall was taking him home as opposed to simply going with him. You and Lorry talked quietly until Kendall returned, at which point Lorry went into the house. You and Kendall talked for a few minutes. Then he went in and you came over to the officer, told him the show was over for the night and he may as well make himself comfortable. You offered him a beer and he declined. Then you said it was a long night and would he like anything else. He said a soft drink would be nice. You went into the games room through the patio doors and returned with a glass which you said was a Coke. After handing it to him, you went into the house. He drank the Coke and that’s the last he remembers until Mrs. Winston woke him.”