The Reunion (4 page)

“Good Lord!” Zach exclaimed, aghast at the news. “When did this happen?”

“Three or four months ago. The police contacted Eileen because they found the reunion invitation. Apparently, someone had just delivered flowers, and they were scattered all over the floor like a pagan offering.” She shuddered and sipped from her water glass.

Jill placed her hand on her throat. “How awful.”

“Do they know who did it?” Meghan asked.

Glory shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“Who’d want to kill Tami?” Zach wondered.

Suzanne took a huge gulp of her cosmo. “Anyone whoever met her, I imagine. Tami could piss off the Pope. Can we change the subject?”

“From what I heard, she’d just divorced her fourth husband. I’d think four divorces would produce a whole slew of candidates,” Tom said.

“And then there’s Eddie Mancuso,” Glory added with a smile.

“What about Eddie Mancuso?” Zach asked.

“He was murdered, too.”

Jill gasped. “What?”

Dave’s fork clattered onto his plate. His eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped. Suzanne stared, her fingers pressed against her coral-tinted lips. Meghan sipped her water with surprise on her face.

Both were murdered? How bizarre is that?

“Uh-huh. About a month later in some little town in Texas. He was run over while walking down the highway. The cops found the invitation in his pocket. Eileen got that call, too. Really shook her up.”

“How do they know it was murder? Murder is deliberate,” Zach commented. “This sounds like a hit and run.”

“They found evidence that the truck stopped, and then backed up over him as he lay on the asphalt.”

“That’s gross. What did he do for a living?” Jill wondered.

“A friend of his is a client. Said when he last talked to Eddie about five years ago he was driving a semi,” Tom told them.

“Eddie was a truck jockey?” Dave had a thoughtful look on his face. “The last time I talked to him he claimed he was in the advertising game in Los Angeles.”

“When was that?” Jill asked.

Dave chased a bite of food with a generous gulp of his drink before answering, “I don’t know, twelve or fifteen years ago. He was in Chicago at some seminar or something.”

“The advertising business can be brutal,” Ted commented.

“Yeah, he spent most of the time telling me how he almost made the NFL, but an injury screwed up his knee.”

“Bullshit,” Suzanne commented. “He flunked out of college in his first semester. Tami told me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Eddie didn’t have much in the line of brains. His only talents were drinking beer and sliding out of trouble,” Dave confirmed. “He was damned good at both.”

“From football hero to road kill. How the mighty have fallen,” Glory murmured. She forked chocolate cake into her mouth.

Zach was shocked at such a statement coming from Glory until he remembered that Tom Ecklund had been on the receiving end of more than a few of Eddie’s bullying comments and actions during high school. The fact Tom was alive and successful while Eddie was dead probably gave even mild-mannered Glory a sense of satisfaction.

“Didn’t the four of you hangout a lot?” Meghan asked Dave.

“Yes, we did, and I find this entire conversation disgusting,” Suzanne snapped. She shoved her half-eaten salad away. “Change the fucking subject.”

Silence fell over the table. Waiters came around removing the dirty dishes and serving coffee.

“Would you like something from the bar?” Zach asked Meghan.

“A white wine would be nice.”

He left with his mind on the information Glory had enjoyed delivering. After twenty years, it wasn’t unreasonable to find some of his classmates had died, but for two of the most popular to be murdered within a month of each other was not only coincidental, but downright sinister.

“A glass of chardonnay, and an amaretto on the rocks,” he told the bartender.

He remembered Suzanne and Tami had been inseparable. The same could be said for Eddie and Dave, best friends for most of their lives. Strange how the two of them had drifted apart. Well, maybe not so odd. Eddie had always struck Zach as lazy and living for the moment, whereas Dave had the sense to plan ahead.

Zach paid for the drinks, returned to the table, and found Meghan alone. On the stage, a band tuned up. Glory once again flitted around the room like a bothersome mosquito. Tom talked to a friend a few tables away. Ditto for Jill and Ted. Dave stood on the far side of the room with a group of former football players. Suzanne had disappeared.

“All alone?” he asked.

“For the moment. Thanks. How are you enjoying the reunion so far?”

Meghan’s fingers touched his as she took the glass. The action resulted in a clutching sensation in his gut. Desire, pure and simple.

He pulled himself together. “Other than being with you, not very. Murder would not be my first choice of dinner conversation.”

“I rather enjoyed it. My mind is already spinning possible plots from the information.”

“Good Lord.” He sipped his amaretto. “Is some disgruntled cheerleader working her way through the squad settling old scores? Or is the ninety-seven pound weakling knocking off football players out of revenge?”

She laughed. “Why not? And let’s not be sexist. The cheerleader could be male. Reunions can be very revealing.”

“How?”

“Think about it. The first is usually the tenth. Everybody is five or six years out of college and still climbing the corporate ladder. They have focus and are upwardly mobile.”

“No time for envy or jealousy to surface.”

“Exactly.” She sipped her wine. “The twentieth and twenty-fifth are a whole different story. Careers are set and goals may or may not have been achieved. Some men attend to show off how much money they have—or pretend to have—while women go to see if the homecoming queen has put on fifty pounds. Envy and jealousy are rampant. People show up at the fiftieth to see who’s still alive.”

“Why are you here?”

She grinned. “I’m a successful author and I dumped a ton of weight. A part of me wanted to show off, yet I still had to screw up my courage to walk through the doors. In my mind, I’m still the fat kid. What about you?”

Zach toyed with the amaretto glass. “I’m not really sure. I was all set to drop the invitation into the shredder when something stopped me. I changed my looks—”

“For the better,” Meghan interrupted with a smile.

He chuckled. “Thanks. I’m successful beyond my wildest dreams. I guess maybe I wanted to crow a little, too. And to repeat, you weren’t that heavy in high school.”

He liked how Meghan blushed at his words. The corners of her emerald eyes crinkled as she smiled.

“Thank you, but that’s how I saw myself—as a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. In those days self-esteem wasn’t one of my strong points.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Mine neither.”

The band finished tuning up and swung into a slow song popular the year they graduated. Several couples hit the dance floor.

“I’m not the most graceful guy in the world, but if I promise not to step on your toes, would you like to dance?”

“I’ve got a flash for you. I’m not so hot either. Remember the chair? But I’m game if you are.”

Zach draped his suit coat over the back of his chair, and led Meghan onto the floor, then held out his arms. She walked into them with a smile. He pulled her close and moved to the music. A tantalizing scent of something exotic wafted to his nostrils as the top of her head brushed his chin.

A zing of God-knew-what zipped along his nerves. Those high school fantasies flooded his mind with adult images of naked bodies, rumpled sheets, and sounds of pleasure. He hardened slightly.

Focus on dancing. If I don’t, I’ll embarrass myself and scare the shit out of Meghan.

It didn’t work. Her breasts brushed his chest and his hands felt scorched from wherever he touched her. Even through those shiny things in the small of her back, the woman radiated heat.

Somehow they had drawn closer, her fingers playing with the hair in his nape, her warm breath whispering against his neck. He had an absurd urge to bury his face in her fragrant hair. A light, floral perfume made him dizzy with desire.

Knock it off, Dunbar. This close and she’ll know how you feel any second. Think about something other than her body. Say something, jackass.

“Uh, you know, I don’t think I’ve complimented you on your dress. It’s gorgeous.”

Terrific. Could I get any more ordinary?

“Thank you. I bought it for a party at my publisher’s last year.”

“What are all these shiny things?”

“Sequins and beads. Are you interested in fashion?” She leaned her head back and smiled, a teasing look in her eyes.

Swell. She thinks I’m gay.

“Uh, no. I just wondered. They’re very sexy.”

Way to go, idiot. Now, she probably thinks I’m a sex fiend.

“Well, thank you again. I thought the same when I bought it.”

Zach finally managed to laugh. Close proximity to Meghan addled his brains. For his libido’s sake, he should take her back to the table. Her breasts against his chest nixed that idea. He enjoyed this too much.

They covered the dance floor through six songs until the band took a break. A trickle of sweat dribbled down his temple. The crowd had thickened and the temperature in the ballroom rose. He preferred that rationalization.
Her body has nothing to do with it.

“It’s getting hot in here. Would you like to go outside for a few minutes?” he asked.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Can I get you another wine?”

“That sounds wonderful, too. I’ll meet you on the terrace.”

She walked toward the terrace doors, her hips swaying just enough to set the skirt of her dress swirling. It was sexy as hell.

Zach swallowed, headed for the bar, got the drinks, and found Meghan standing by the stone wall at the far end of the patio gazing out over the garden. The lush greenery waved in a light breeze. The muted lighting threw shadows of gray and black over the pathways that serpentined through the trees and shrubbery.

“Here you go,” he said.

“Thanks.” She accepted the glass and took a generous drink. “Tastes good. Cool and refreshing after that ballroom.”

Meghan set the glass next to her purse, and then rested her elbows on the parapet. The foliage rustled pleasantly. Zach mimicked her actions fumbling for something to say.

“How come you write under the name Bonaventure?”

“It’s my ex-husband’s name.”

At least she’d said
ex
. The thought she might be married had never occurred to him. He didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Meghan did.

“I met Philip Bonaventure while getting my master’s in English. He was a history professor working his way up the tenure ladder.”

“How long were you married?”

“Seven years.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” He wasn’t really, but wanted to ask why in the worst way. Meghan supplied the information on her own.

She shrugged. “I have no one to blame but myself. Philip wanted a meek, compliant woman who followed the rules for a faculty wife. I attended all the social functions, and hosted the same. I tried to do the right thing, but never could understand why it mattered who sat where at a dinner party. The whole thing was based on who had the most tenure. Really stupid.”

“So, you didn’t always play the game?”

“No, and that led to arguments. He’d accuse me of deliberately jeopardizing his career and making him look foolish. And then there was my writing.”

“He didn’t like you doing your own thing?” Zach sipped his amaretto already disliking this jerk.

“Phillip referred to it as a nice little hobby. It sounded good when he told his friends I was an aspiring author. Gave his image a boost.

“Everything was fine until I sold my first book. To his horror, it wasn’t some high-brow work filled with angst and symbolism. He damned near had a heart attack when he discovered it was a mystery chocked full of murder, mayhem, and sex.” She sipped her wine.

“What happened?”

“He accused me of sabotaging his career again. He’d climbed up the tenure ladder, and the banner of assistant dean fluttered under his nose. He forbade me to tell anyone at the university.”

“And you went along with this? I’d have told him to go shove it.”

“I almost did, but my self-confidence about being able to make it on my own was shaky. The first book made a modest amount of money and won an award. Then I wrote
The Campus Murders
. I used a university setting. The damn thing hit the
New York Times
bestseller list topping out at number thirty-four. My secret was out. Philip was embarrassed and spent less and less time at home.”

Meghan sighed and sipped her wine again.

“I don’t understand. If you’d been my wife, I’d have shouted it from the rooftops. Did he feel threatened by your success?”

“I didn’t threaten Philip. According to him, I didn’t have the brains for that. His biggest threat came from other professors lower on the tenure ladder.”

“What a moron.” Zach swigged amaretto glad she’d dumped this guy. “How could he say that? You had a master’s degree for crying out loud.”

“The academic atmosphere of a major college campus is a world unto itself. Philip was also a snob. He thought only the lowest of the low read mysteries and romance novels. Truly refined people read Faulkner, Hemingway, and the classics.”

She sighed again and leaned over the parapet, gazing into the bushes. Partial shadows bathed their little corner of the terrace. Several people strolled out and into the garden, but paid no attention to them. Zach wondered if he dared to put his arm around her, but Meghan didn’t look as though she needed sympathy.

“I suppose I should have seen it coming. The late nights, the out of town seminars, the students he said he enjoyed mentoring were all excuses. He found a graduate student named Marie who suited him better than I did.”