Читать книгу Where Truth Lies - Christiane Heggan - Страница 11

Five

A woman stood on the threshold of the gallery, leaning against the doorjamb. One hand was on her hip, while the other played with a long, blond curl. She was in her early thirties, no taller than five-three or four, with almond-shaped blue eyes and a small petulant mouth painted a bright red. She wore a celery-green denim jacket with embroidered lapels, snug jeans tucked into ankle boots, and chandelier earrings that shimmered in the October sunlight.

Her expression was curious as she inspected Grace from head to toe. “I’ll say this for Steven. He had good taste in women.” She gestured toward the door. “I knocked. Guess you didn’t hear me.”

“Guess I didn’t,” Grace replied, matching the woman’s casual tone.

The visitor moved aside as Grace walked back into the showroom. “I’m Denise Baxter, by the way.”

Baxter. That made her the wife of Fred Baxter, the man charged with Steven’s murder.

“I figured I’d come and tell you the dirt about me before you heard it from the townspeople. That way you’ll know the real scoop.”

Grace wiped her hands on a paper towel. “You don’t need to tell me anything, Mrs. Baxter—”

“Please, call me Denise. Everybody does.”

“All right, Denise. As I was saying, you don’t owe me any explanation. And if it makes you feel better, I was never big on gossip, idle or otherwise.”

The young woman studied her for a moment more, then bobbed her head. “Yup, you’re exactly like Steven described you—straight to the point.” Her gaze shifted to a spot on the floor, halfway between the desk and the front door. “It feels strange being here. It’s my first time since…” She stopped, as though she couldn’t say the words.

Grace followed her gaze. “Is that where they found Steven’s body?”

Denise nodded. “Nobody was allowed near the place while the yellow tape was on. All I saw, a couple of days later, was the chalk outline. Then the investigation was over and Mrs. Hatfield had the entire gallery scrubbed clean.” She returned her gaze to Grace. “She hated me on sight.”

Grace smiled. “Don’t take it personally. Sarah is very hard to please. Trust me on that.”

“Steven blamed her for the breakup between the two of you.”

How like Steven to put the blame on someone else. “Did he really?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. He told me how he messed up, but he felt that if it hadn’t been for his mother being so hard on you, you would have forgiven him and stuck around.”

“In that case, he was deluding himself. I broke up with Steven because he cheated on me. Pure and simple. Call me old-fashioned, but trust and loyalty rank high on my list of priorities, especially between a man and a woman about to be married. As for Sarah, she had nothing to do with my decision. I had come to terms with her attitude toward me by simply ignoring it.”

Denise looked at her with undisguised admiration. “You have more guts than I have. One look at the woman and my knees turned to jelly.” She paused before adding, “I can see why Steven was so fond of you. You don’t take any crap from anyone.”

Grace smiled. “Is that what he told you?”

“No, that’s what I’ve been hearing all morning. The way you fought back that robber last night is the talk of the town. Where did you learn to kick like that?”

“In kickboxing class. When you live in the city and work until late at night, self-defense becomes a necessity.”

“Do you have to defend yourself often?”

“Actually, this was my first time. Hopefully my last.”

“Are you all right? Lorraine at the café says that you spent the night in the hospital.”

News traveled fast in a small town. “I’m fine. Just some bumps and bruises.”

Denise sat on the stool in front of the desk, making herself at home. “You seem like a good person.”

“You can tell that after only a few minutes?”

“I’m a good judge of character. How about you? Are you a good judge of character?”

“I like to think so.”

“Let’s put you to the test. What do you think of me?”

Grace laughed. The woman was relentless, and yet, there was something about her that was endearing. “I think you’re very pretty.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“All right.” Grace sat down in the swivel chair behind the desk and put her arms on the armrests. “I think you’re honest—a little insecure, perhaps, but that doesn’t seem to interfere with your candor. And in spite of what you say, I think you’re very gutsy. The fact that you’re here proves it.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I right?”

“Pretty much. You and I could be friends, you know. God knows I could use a friend. As you’ll soon find out, I’m not the most popular person in town these days.”

“Because of your affair with Steven?”

“That, but mostly because of Fred’s arrest. The people in New Hope worship him. He was so much more than their police chief. He was their friend, their champion, their advisor. They could talk to him about anything. Fred was always there, ready to help. I can’t even tell you how many marriages he saved, just by making each couple talk to each other. The residents revered him almost as much as they do Father Donnelly, who’s pretty much of a saint in these parts. And now, Fred’s in jail and it’s all my fault.”

“Guilt is a heavy burden to carry, Denise. And it doesn’t change anything. All it does is make you feel bad.”

“I wouldn’t feel half as bad if Fred was guilty, but he isn’t. He didn’t kill Steven!”

There was a conviction in her voice as she spoke those words that made Grace pay instant attention. “I don’t understand. From what I heard—”

“I know what you heard. None of it is true. My husband did not kill Steven Hatfield.”

“Wasn’t his gun found outside the gallery? With his fingerprints on it?”

“Pft.” Denise gave a disdainful toss of her blond curls. “Do you think for one second that anyone with an ounce of intelligence would drop the murder weapon as he fled? Which is what Chief Nader says happened.”

“It does sound a little…”

“Sloppy. And Fred is anything but sloppy. That’s what I told Josh. The man worked with Fred since the day he got out of the army. He knows him better than anyone.”

“But you said there was an investigation.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you can call that an investigation. The little Josh did, he did for show.”

“What do you think happened?”

Looking restless, Denise stood up and started walking around the gallery, stopping to look at a painting every now and then. “It all started at Pat’s Pub, where Fred likes to stop for a beer every evening, you know, just to shoot the bull with his friends. That evening, he walked in on a conversation that sent him into orbit. Cal and Lou Badger, two hopeless morons, were talking about me and Steven, apparently in vivid details.

“Fred would have killed them with his bare hands if Eddie—that’s the pub’s owner—hadn’t stopped him. Then he stormed out, and because he was in such a rage, everyone assumed he was on his way here, to the gallery.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Fred isn’t the type to make a scene in a place of business. He’s much too decent to do that. He went home to wait for me.”

“So you can vouch for him? You can give him an alibi?”

“No.” Denise’s shoulders slumped. “I was working on a new line. I make jewelry,” she explained. “And I didn’t leave my shop until about seven. When I got home, the police were there, handcuffing Fred.”

“If your husband didn’t do it, then who did?”

“Take your pick.”

That was a strange comment. Steven wasn’t the type to have enemies. “What do you mean by that?”

“Steven had his share of enemies in this town, starting with Buzz Brown.”

“Who is Buzz Brown?”

“He owns a large farm on Route 232. Six months ago his wife became very ill. Buzz tried to sell his property to a developer so he could move Alma to Arizona, but Steven, who was a member of the township planning board, strongly objected to the developer’s plan to build three hundred single-family homes on the site.

“When the township residents heard that the subdivision would destroy the character of the area, increase traffic and raise taxes, they started attending the planning board meetings and voiced their concerns. As a result, the application was denied and a few weeks later, Alma died. Buzz held Steven personally responsible for his wife’s death. They never spoke after that.”

“Six months is a long time, don’t you think?” Grace asked. “Assuming that Buzz Brown was mad enough to kill, why didn’t he do it right away?”

“Because if he had, he would have been the number one suspect.”

Obviously, Denise had given the case a lot of thought. “You said that Steven had his share of enemies? Who are the others?”

“The dean of the local college, John Amos.”

“The same college where Steven taught an art course twice a week?”

Denise nodded. “As you know only too well, Steven was a hopeless womanizer. One of the coeds reported him for sexual harassment. The dean wanted to fire Steven on the spot, but the faculty intervened in his favor and he was allowed to stay. The dean was furious.”

“Why was he allowed to stay?”

“Why do you think? Steven’s mother stepped in, made a generous donation to the college, and that was that. John Amos is lucky he didn’t get fired.”

The incident must have been humiliating for the dean, but hardly a reason for murder. “Who else?”

“I can’t name anyone specifically,” Denise said. “But the way Steven flirted with the women here in town…” She rolled her eyes again. “They all loved the attention, but the husbands and boyfriends, well, that was another matter.”

“Was he sleeping with any of the women?”

For the first time, Denise’s gaze faltered. “No.” She looked away. “He wasn’t.”

Grace gave her a long look. The question had made Denise uncomfortable.

Perhaps sensing Grace’s doubts, Denise turned around. “If you think that I killed Steven,” she said, “forget it. I can’t shoot to save my life. Ask Carmine, who runs the shooting range. He’ll tell you. Fred took me target shooting a few times, before he finally gave up. Besides, like I said, I was at the shop. A lot of people saw me there.”

Like art, people were never quite the way they seemed. There were layers to be peeled and angles to study. Denise’s seemingly forthright manner had taken a different turn. She was hiding something, perhaps to protect herself, perhaps to protect her husband.

“I’m sure a competent attorney will unravel the mystery,” Grace said.

Another pft. “Miles sucks. I wanted to hire someone with clout, a seasoned lawyer, experienced in criminal cases, but Fred won’t talk to me. I haven’t seen him since they took him in.” She sounded resigned, and a little defeated.

Grace couldn’t think of anything adequate to say except, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. I can put up with that. All I want is for Fred to go free. And now for the first time in a little over a week there’s hope.” Her expression brightened. “Matt is on his way.”

“Matt?”

“Matt Baxter, Fred’s son. Lucy—that’s my stepdaughter—called him. Fred didn’t want to bother him. He kept saying that Josh would come to his senses soon enough. When it was obvious that he wouldn’t, Lucy called her brother. He should be arriving today.”

“Does he solve murders?”

“He’s an FBI agent,” she said as if that statement required no other explanation. “One of the best. He and Fred are a lot alike—tough, stubborn, short-tempered, but very smart. Good people.”

Grace smiled. “You sound as if you care for your husband very much.”

“I love my husband,” she said, meeting Grace’s eyes. “I know that sounds weird, considering what I did, but it’s the God’s truth.”

“May I ask a personal question?”

Denise shrugged. “You’ve earned it.”

“Knowing what you knew about Steven, and feeling as you do about your husband, why did you have an affair in the first place?”

“For the same reason every female in this town went a little dopey whenever Steven was around—his charm. He oozed it, as I’m sure you know. And he truly loved women. He loved being around them, complimenting them, remembering their birthdays, or some other special occasion. When he talked to a woman, he made her feel as if she was the only person in the room. And no matter how bad you looked, Steven Hatfield could make you feel like a beauty queen. I was no exception, even though I was happily married. But Fred was always busy, helping someone through a crisis. As a result, there wasn’t a lot of time for the two of us to do anything fun. When Steven started paying attention to me, it went to my head.”

“Even though you knew his reputation with the ladies?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that at the time.”

Once again, the comment seemed to make her uneasy, and this time, Grace chose not to push it. “How old is your stepdaughter?”

“Nineteen.”

“Her father’s arrest must have been hard on her.”

“Terrible, but she’s coping. Fortunately, she and I are very close. We comfort each other.”

Grace couldn’t hide her surprise. “She’s forgiven you?”

Denise gave a slow shake of her head. “No, and I’m not sure our relationship will ever be quite the same as it was, especially if her father is convicted, but right now, she realizes that we need each other.”

She waved her hand, causing the bangles around her wrist to jingle. “That’s enough of me. I want to hear all about you.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to get back to work,” Grace said. “There’s an awful lot to do, much more than I expected. And I still have to go to the cottage to unpack.”

“Okay, I’ll get out of your hair, but how about lunch?”

“Actually, I was planning on skipping lunch.”

“You can’t work on an empty stomach. I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches and we can eat while I give you a tour of the town. Everyone is dying to meet you, or at least have a glimpse of you.”

“How do you know?”

“Lorraine told me. She owns the Everything Goes Café and is the only person in town, except for Father Donnelly, who still speaks to me.”

Oh, what the hell, Grace thought. She could work on Steven’s books after lunch. And Denise did look like she needed a friend, even if the friendship would only last a week.