Smoke in Mirrors (12 page)

“Imagine that. I do like a man who is handy with his tools. Such a useful talent.”

It was impossible to argue in the face of such
determined optimism. Leonora gave up, told Gloria to say hello to Herb and ended the call.

She sat back, steepled her fingers and brooded for a while.

It was a strange experience. She rarely brooded. She tried to get into it. It wasn’t like she didn’t have stuff to brood about. It just wasn’t easy. Her thoughts kept going back to Thomas and his little jewel of a house.

A low, sighing groan snapped her out of the odd mood. The sound emanated from the other side of the wall behind the card catalog.

Startled, she swung around in the chair and stared at the old wooden catalog. A second groan and a squeak followed hard on the heels of the first. She could have sworn she also heard a muffled giggle.

The easy explanation was that the sounds were coming from people in the room next to the library. But she was certain that there was no one in that chamber. The door was closed and locked.

She left the office and hurried through the stacks to the door of the library. She was about to step out into the hall to see if anyone was about when she caught the dim flicker of movement in the old convex mirror that hung on the opposite wall directly across from where she stood.

The bulging curve of the heavily framed looking glass reflected the corridor for a distance of several feet on either side. The shifting of light in the dark glass was a reflection of the hall to her right. As she watched, a section of the corridor wall swung open.

Two figures slipped out into the hall. One of them paused to make certain that the hidden door swung shut. Then they both turned and disappeared in the direction of the main staircase at the far end of the passage. There was more muffled laughter and soft conversation.

Julie Bromley and her boyfriend, Travis Todd. Julie had introduced him to Leonora that morning.

She waited until the two students had vanished downstairs and then walked to where she had seen them emerge from the wall. A narrow seam in the paneling was the only evidence of a door.

She pushed gently. Nothing happened. She pushed a little harder. The invisible door swung inward with a creak of rusty hinges.

There was just enough light coming from the hall behind her to reveal a narrow flight of steps that curved around itself. It led to the closed floor above.

An old-fashioned set of servants’ stairs, she thought. Julie and Travis were no doubt using a room on the third floor for a trysting spot.

Personally, she couldn’t see how anyone could get into a romantic mood in this grim house but maybe that was her age showing.

She let the door swing shut and continued along the shadowy hall toward the main staircase. The dark mirrors glittered unpleasantly on the walls. She glanced at one as she went past. The frame was made of wood, heavily carved with crests and scrolls. The design and workmanship were typical of mirrors from the end of the seventeen hundreds, according to what she had read.

She saw her own image reflected dimly back at her in the old glass. There was something wrong with her reflection. She stopped and examined it more closely.

There were two reflections, she realized. The second was a ghostly duplicate of the first, slightly off-center. The result was an eerie doppelganger effect that made her shiver.

You can’t sleep yet.

Where had that stray thought come from? It drifted through her mind, a ghostly whisper with no form or
obvious source. Her heart pounded. Her hands went cold. Her breath felt tight in her lungs.

Stop it. Get a grip.

She quickly averted her gaze and hurried off down the hall.

There was no reason to be unnerved by the double image, she told herself. It was simply the result of deficiencies in the early manufacturing process. The techniques of mirror making had been closely guarded trade secrets in the old days. The results produced had been less than perfect by today’s standards.

But she knew, deep down, what had sent the chill through her. It was because, for just an instant, the second reflection imposed over her own had looked a lot like Meredith.

She went quickly down the stairs, relieved to be able to descend into the hubbub of activity on the first floor.

She made her way through a pile of electrical equipment and a maze of folded tables and rushed out into the parking lot. Outside, she was relieved to see that a crisp, chilled sunlight had, temporarily at least, driven off the fog. It also banished what was left of the strange panic that had welled up inside her when she had looked into the double-image mirror.

“You’re new around
here, aren’t you? Welcome to Wing Cove.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar male voice directly behind her, Leonora jumped. She dropped the package of frozen soybean pods back onto the stack, straightened and turned away from the supermarket’s large, glass-walled freezer.

A strikingly good-looking man with aquiline features and riveting amber eyes stood in the aisle. His jet-black hair was combed straight back and tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Dressed in a black, ankle-length leather coat, black pants, a black turtleneck and black boots, he certainly stood out there in the grocery store aisle. She was willing to bet that all of the articles of clothing had designer labels inside.

“Sorry,” he said, managing to look both amused and apologetic at the same time. “Didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Alex Rhodes.”

“Leonora Hutton,” she said automatically.

She told herself she shouldn’t stare into his unusual eyes. Then again, what else was a person supposed to do when talking directly to someone except look into his eyes? The alternative was to stare at his chest and that didn’t seem like a socially correct option.

“You’re the librarian they brought in to catalog that collection of old books out at Mirror House, aren’t you?” Alex asked.

“How did you know?”

He smiled, displaying very white, near perfect teeth. “This is one very small town. Word gets around. I also hear that you had dinner with Thomas Walker the other evening.”

She became aware of a cold draft chilling her backside. Hastily she closed the freezer door. “Looks like you’ve got my life story in a nutshell.”

“Not all of it. Just the stuff that happened here in Wing Cove. Want to hear my story?”

She gave up trying to avoid his strange tiger-yellow eyes. Why bother to be polite? He wanted her to look at him. Probably would have been crushed if she had not found him fascinating.

His unabashed, darkly sensual style held a certain piquant charm. He knew how good he looked and he was accustomed to having people notice, especially women. He possessed a comfortable nonchalance that told her he was used to trading on his sexy appearance. A masculine version of Meredith, in that respect, she thought.

“Before I decide whether or not I want your life story,” she said, “maybe you should tell me why, out of all the grocery stores in all the world, you walked into this one and chose me to honor with your tale.”

His black brows rose. “Damn. The cautious type. I was afraid of that.”

“It’s an old habit I’m trying to break, but it kicks in once in a while in spite of all my good intentions.”

“Ah, yes.” He nodded with an air of grave wisdom. “I know all about old habits. You could say I’m something of an expert in the field.”

“Really? How did that happen?”

“I’m in the business of breaking old habits.” He drew a black-and-silver case out of his pocket, opened it and handed her one of the little white cards inside. “I’m a stress-reduction consultant. I specialize in helping people deal with the problems of modern life. That usually means getting rid of old habits. I do counseling and I sell a special nutritional formula designed to offset the metabolic effects of stress.”

She glanced at the card. Alex’s name and a phone number were the only things printed on it.

“Are you expensive?” she asked.

“Very. But the real money is in the nutritional supplement. You wouldn’t believe how willing people are to take a spoonful of medicine rather than make genuine changes in their lives.”

“Nice work if you can get it.”

“You can say that again.” He gave her a Cheshire cat smile. “And I’ve got it. Want to go back to my place and look at my stress-reduction videos?”

“Some other time, maybe.”

He gave a theatrical sigh of deep regret. “All right, I get the point. You aren’t going to let me sweep you off your feet and onto my couch.”

“You actually have a couch?”

“Sure. Clients expect it. And it gives me a place to take a nap between appointments.”

“I can see the logic. How long have you lived here in Wing Cove?”

“Opened up my practice about a year ago. I can give
you a list of references, if you like, but you probably can’t afford me.”

“Probably not.”

“I occasionally do some pro bono work, however.”

“Thanks, but in my family we have this thing against taking charity.”

Alex Rhodes had been in Wing Cove while Meredith was here, she pondered. They would have met. Alex would have made certain of it. And Meredith would have found him entertaining, to say the least. More importantly, she would have considered him a prime source of information. A stress-reduction consultant who catered to the high-end market was bound to pick up a lot of interesting tidbits about his clients’ private lives. Meredith had collected interesting tidbits that might prove profitable the way other folks collected antiques.

“No need to give me a list of references,” she said, “and the only nutritional supplements I use are the chocolate-covered kind.”

“Can I talk you into having a cup of coffee with me, instead? There’s a place just down the street.”

“I’m still looking for a reason.”

“How about because I saw you from the far end of this grocery aisle and I was captivated by the vision of you bending over to reach into that freezer?”

“How about you try again?”

He laughed. “All right, I’ll tell you the flat-out truth. As I mentioned earlier, this is one small town. Most of the women who are anywhere near my age are either married or clients of mine or students. I never date members of any one of those categories, so that seriously cuts down my social options in Wing Cove.”

“I see.”

“I’m a mature, intelligent, sensitive man, Ms. Hutton. I have needs.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“What I need,” he said deliberately, “is a conversation with a sophisticated, interesting woman that does not revolve around a personal neurosis or a relationship issue that is impacting her ability to deal with stress or to have an orgasm. I need such a conversation very badly, Ms. Hutton. I do believe that I would sell my soul for such a conversation.”

“Oh, well, in that case, let’s have coffee.”

She ordered tea
, of course. Alex got an espresso. Of course. The little cup of extra strong, extra dark coffee went with the rest of the outfit.

They sat at a small, round table near the window. The crowd was a mix of academics, students and townsfolk. The walls were painted in warm hues of brown and ocher. The wood floor had been finished to look old and worn. A fire burned on a central, open hearth in the middle of the room.

The fog was back. Outside the window it was so thick it was difficult to make out the shops and galleries that lined the opposite side of the street.

“Mind if I ask you a question?” Alex said.

“Depends on the question.”

“Hate to do this. But before I try to impress you with the breadth and depth of my intellect and sophistication, I feel the need to ask you to define your relationship with Thomas Walker.”

She paused in the act of removing the tea bag from the cup. “My what?”

“I hear the two of you had dinner together last night. In this town that constitutes a relationship.”

“I see.” She set the wet bag down very carefully on the saucer. “We’re just friends.”

“That’s it? Just friends?”

“Yes.”

Alex pondered that for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t know. ‘Friends’ is a vague term, don’t you think?”

“Is it?”

Alex lounged back in his chair, long, lean legs extended, and looked at her with his glowing gold eyes. “For instance, a few months back, Walker was
friends
for a while with another woman who worked up at Mirror House. Close friends. One might even say intimate friends.”

Meredith.

She concentrated on taking a sip of tea. It wasn’t bad tea. It wasn’t good tea, either. It had the subtle but distinctive aftertaste that tea made from a bag always had. Not as dreadful as instant tea but not nearly as good as tea made from fine quality loose leaves in a proper pot.

Okay, stop stalling. You’re supposed to be playing private detective here.

“I will tell you one thing,” she said smoothly. “My relationship with Thomas Walker most definitely cannot be defined as intimate.”

Alex nodded. “I just wanted to be sure. I dated Walker’s other
friend
for a while after they stopped seeing each other. Not sure how he felt about that. Things can get a little too cozy in a small town like this.”

“Nice to know you’ve got a personal code of conduct that applies to your social life.”

“More like I’m just damned cautious. I don’t need a rep for sleeping with the locals’ wives and girlfriends.”

“Bad for business?”

“Very bad.”

“I can understand that.” She had nothing to lose by being a little bolder, she decided. “My turn for a personal
question. What happened to your relationship with Thomas Walker’s other friend?”

“We didn’t see each other for long. Between you and me, I think she may have had a problem with drugs. She left town a few weeks ago. I heard she was killed in a car crash.”

She started to pick up her cup again but quickly changed her mind when she realized that her fingers were trembling. She put her hand back in her lap.

“This woman used drugs, you said?”