Smoke in Mirrors (27 page)

He finished toweling himself dry, pulled on his trousers and ran his fingers through his hair. Satisfied that was the best he could do under the circumstances, he opened the door and went out into the hall. He needed coffee and some more anti-inflammatories. Food would be nice after that. He was hungry. Hot, sizzling sex with Leonora seemed to have that effect on him.

The sound of a man’s voice emanating from the direction of the kitchen made him forget about both the caffeine and the painkillers.

“This is insanity, Leo. You must be delusional if you’ve
managed to convince yourself that Meredith was murdered and that you can find the killer. You need serious psychiatric help.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think my HMO would cover it,” Leonora said mildly. “Would you like some coffee?”

Thomas crossed the living room in a few long strides and halted in the kitchen doorway. He took in the scene in one swift glance.

Leonora was at the counter, pouring coffee for her guest. She had made a pot of tea for herself.

He couldn’t help but notice that, unlike him, she looked terrific this morning. She was dressed in easy-fitting black trousers, a long, scarlet sweater and a pair of fluffy slippers. Her hair was clipped back in the familiar French twist.

An intense-looking man with curly brown hair and sharp features occupied one of the two chairs at the table. He wore an unpressed blue oxford cloth shirt, a pair of khaki trousers and loafers. A well-worn corduroy jacket with suede elbow patches was draped over the back of the chair.

An expensive leather book bag that looked a lot like a purse, but was probably intended to serve as a briefcase, stood against the wall next to him.

The guy might as well have worn a sign on his forehead with the words
I’m going for tenure
stenciled on it, Thomas decided.

Leonora looked toward the door. “There you are, Thomas.” She gave him a quick visual examination, her eyes clouding with concern. “How do you feel?”

“I’ll live, thanks.”

She did not appear entirely convinced, but she did not argue the point. “Meet a, uh, former colleague. Kyle Delling. You may have heard me mention his name once or twice.”

The ex-fiancé. Just what he needed. Another man in the vicinity who had also gotten tangled up with Meredith. He wondered if Leonora was looking at the two of them here in her kitchen and mentally filing them both under the same subject heading:
Meredith’s discards.

Kyle stared at him, nonplussed. Maybe it was the shock of seeing a strange man coming out of his ex-fiancée’s bathroom without a shirt, Thomas thought. It struck him that if he was Leonora’s ex-anything, he’d have a real tough time in Kyle’s place. The thought of her with another man now, after what they’d shared these past few days, would be very difficult to handle.

That realization hit him harder than any of the punches he had taken from Brett Conway last night. Leonora did not fit into the same category as the other women he had known during the years since his divorce. He was not going to be able to stay in the safe zone this time. When this was over he was going to go down hard.

Oh, man, this was serious.

Kyle’s mouth opened. The small action broke into Thomas’s morbid thoughts. He wondered if the professor was going to take a swing at him. He hoped so. Be nice to have an excuse to work off some of this new stress. Nothing like a little exercise to elevate a man’s mood.

Belatedly he recalled that Leonora had said that her ex was a very modern kind of guy. So maybe Kyle wasn’t staring at him with that weird expression because he was jealous. Maybe it was the bruised ribs, black eye and scraped knuckles that were failing to make a great first impression.

Kyle finally managed to get his jaw back in place. “Who the hell are you?”

Leonora blew on her tea and answered for him.

“This is Thomas Walker. He’s a friend.” She put a little extra emphasis on the last word.

Thomas nodded once. “Delling.” Who said he couldn’t be a modern guy?

Kyle appeared deeply troubled by the fact that Thomas had proven himself capable of human speech.

Thomas spotted the little bottle on the counter. He left the doorway and went to help himself to the tablets.

“Probably shouldn’t take those on an empty stomach,” Leonora warned.

She put down her tea, plucked a slice of toast out of the toaster and buttered it with quick, economical motions. When it was ready she handed it to him.

He took a large bite out of the toast and swallowed a couple of pills with the glass of juice she gave him. He made a halfhearted attempt to think of something civil to say to Kyle. When nothing leaped to mind, he abandoned the effort in favor of another bite of toast.

“Cassie called while you were in the shower,” Leonora said. “Margaret Lewis has agreed to see us this morning. Cassie and Deke said they’d pick us up around ten o’clock.”

“Sounds good.” He glanced at his watch. It was seven-thirty. “That’ll give me plenty of time to go back to my place, check in with Wrench and change into some fresh clothes.”

“What happened to you?” Kyle blurted, obviously unable to contain his curiosity for another second. “Run into a brick wall?”

“Accident on the footbridge that runs across the cove.” Thomas polished off the last of the toast. “Dangerous places, footbridges.”

Kyle looked dubious. “Looks like you were in a fight or something.”

“Or something.” He swallowed some coffee. “Sorry to eat and run, but I’ve got things to do and places to go. Better be on my way. See you at ten, Leonora.”

“Right.” She put her cup down.

He went to where she stood at the counter and kissed her. A bit more forcefully than necessary.

She didn’t resist, but when he raised his mouth from hers he could tell from the ironic gleam in her eyes that she knew damn well that it had been one of those dumb, staking-a-claim kisses men used to mark their women in front of other males.

He felt very immature until he noticed that Kyle was openly gaping, clearly appalled. That made him feel a lot better. In an immature sort of way.

“See you around,” he said to Kyle.

Delling looked blank.

Thomas walked out of the kitchen and got his jacket out of the closet.

Leonora followed him to the front door. She did not speak until they were out on the porch.

“That was not real subtle or romantic,” she said.

“I like to think that our relationship has progressed beyond the superficial.”

“Progressed my left toe. What was with the macho show-off bit back there in the kitchen?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Only an extremely immature person would engage in macho show-off behavior.” The cold air hit his raw face, stinging initially and then turning everything nicely numb. “What’s with the ex-fiancé in the kitchen bit, anyway? Is he here to try to patch things up?”

“No. He’s after something much more important than the repair of an ephemeral and transitory personal relationship.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Tenure.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I’ve hung with enough academics during the past year to know that tenure is some sort of
Holy Grail for that crowd. What makes Delling think you can help him get it?”

“One of my best friends is the chair of the department that is going to make the decision concerning whether or not Kyle gets moved onto the tenure track in the English department. She’s very loyal to me, and she took great offense on my behalf last year when word got around that Kyle had jumped into bed with Meredith.”

Thomas grinned. It hurt but it was worth it. “Revenge is sweet, ain’t it?”

“Only an extremely immature person would dabble in something so ignoble as revenge.”

“Like I said. Sweet.” He nodded again, satisfied. “Good to know we both have a streak of immaturity. One more thing we have in common.”

He went down the steps and headed for the footpath. He resisted a sudden, inexplicable urge to whistle. He was much too beat up and sore to whistle.

He opened his
own front door a short time later. Wrench was waiting in the hall, looking reproachful in the way only a dog could.

“Okay, okay, you were right. I should have taken you with me last night.”

They went through the routine greeting ritual, but Thomas got the impression that his dog was disappointed that Leonora had not come with him.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Thomas promised.

“What’s with the
Incredible Hulk?” Kyle asked when she walked back into the kitchen. “Not exactly your type. Playing Lady Chatterley out here in the provinces?”

“I’m going through an immature phase.”

Kyle frowned. “Those bruises looked bad. Must have been a hell of a fall he took on that footbridge. Is he just clumsy or what?”

Leonora poured herself another cup of tea. “Actually, Thomas got those bruises in a fight last night. Some kid high on drugs attacked him. The boy is in the hospital.”

“Shit.” Kyle blinked a few times. “Is this a joke?”

“I haven’t felt the inclination to share a joke with you since the day I found you in bed with Meredith.”

Kyle’s jaw went rigid. “You’re still obsessed with that one insignificant incident, aren’t you? You’ve got to get past it, Leonora. For your own sake. It’s time to move on.”

“But I have moved on, Kyle. I doubt if I could have appreciated a man like Thomas if I hadn’t gone through a relationship with you, first. I suppose I owe you for that.”

“Sarcasm is not a constructive mode of communication.”

She thought about it. “You know what? I wasn’t being sarcastic. What I just said was the pure, unadulterated truth.”

The Wing Cove
Retirement Community apartment complex was composed of three handsome redbrick buildings constructed in a three-story triangle.

“You sure Wrench will be all right here in the car?” Leonora asked, turning around in the front seat.

Thomas looked at Wrench, who was in the back of the SUV, his head hung over the rear seat where Deke and Cassie sat.

“It was his choice to come,” he said.

“He’ll be fine,” Deke assured her. “We’ll leave the window open.”

“He won’t be out here alone for long.” Cassie
unfastened her seat belt. “Margaret has an art class later this morning.”

They entered the apartment community through a pleasantly furnished lobby. There was a large bouquet of fresh flowers on a round table. Thomas glanced at the list of the day’s activities on the chalk board:
Aqua aerobics, current events lecture, art class, museum tour sign-up.
A Cary Grant film was scheduled for the evening.

A polite, polished receptionist verified that they were expected, and then gave them directions to Margaret Lewis’s residence.

It wasn’t easy squeezing all four of them into her tiny, one-bedroom apartment. Everything, including Margaret, seemed to be in miniature. Thomas felt like a giant in the little mauve and leaf-green room.

He lowered himself cautiously onto one of the dainty, undersized chairs, half afraid that it would shatter under his weight. Deke, he noticed, was just as careful. His brother was perched gingerly on the little sofa.

There was a small writing desk in one corner. A laptop sat on it, the lid neatly closed. The walls of the doll-sized apartment were covered with framed photographs, many of them photos of Margaret Lewis posed with various academics. Probably the deans, department chairs and other notables who had been associated with the Eubanks College Department of Mathematics during the time Margaret had reigned as secretary, he decided.

A large calendar hung on one wall. Thomas noticed that every square was filled in for the current month. He checked out a few of the entries. Bridge. Yoga. Bridge. Aqua Aerobics. Bridge. Current Affairs. Bridge. Dr. Appt. Bridge. Museum Tour. Bridge.

Margaret Lewis was a cheerful, self-possessed woman with dark-brown skin and a crown of tight, silver curls.
She used a cane and looked trim and fit in a mauve polyester pantsuit that matched her décor.

Thomas glanced at a photo of a young black man standing on the steps of an imposing building. He was smiling at the camera.

“My son,” Margaret said proudly. “He’s on the faculty at the University of Washington.”

She lowered herself into a flower-print chair and nodded pleasantly at each of them as Cassie completed the introductions. When the formalities were concluded, she peered at Thomas with lively interest in her dark eyes.

“What happened to you?” she asked. “Get into a fight?”

“Accident on the footbridge,” he said. “Jogger ran me down.”

She made a tut-tutting sound. “Never understood the craze for running and jogging. Absolute nonsense. Hard on the knees. Knees wear out, you know.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard that.”

“Arthritis sets in fast. Eighty percent of the people down there in the pool doing water aerobics this morning have artificial knees. Why do you think I’m using this cane? Just had my second knee replacement.”

“I hear you,” Thomas said.

She rewarded him with another smile. “So nice when a young man has the sense to take sound advice.”

So nice to be called a young man, Thomas thought.

Margaret Lewis switched her attention to Deke. “Oh, dear, are members of the faculty wearing beards at Eubanks these days?”

Cassie hid a quick grin.

Deke flushed a dull red. “I’m on sabbatical.”

“I see. Well, take some advice from an old department secretary. If you want to get anywhere at Eubanks, you’d
better shave off that beard. They’re a conservative lot there. At least they were in my day.”

“I’ll think about it,” Deke muttered.

“Doesn’t do anything for you, anyway,” Margaret said. “Makes you look years older than you are. Have some cookies.”

Thomas needed no urging. Neither did Deke. They both reached for cookies. Margaret looked pleased.

Cassie contented herself with coffee. So did Leonora but Thomas noticed that she took only a couple of polite sips from the delicate china cup that sat on the table in front of her chair.

Cassie cleared her throat. “It was very kind of you to agree to talk to us about the Eubanks murder, Margaret. As I told you on the phone, we’re interested in it because two people we know who died recently seemed to have been interested in it.”