Читать книгу Quiet as the Grave - Kathleen O'Brien - Страница 10

SHE KNEW IT WAS CONSIDERED bad form to speak ill of the dead, but Suzie had always thought Justine Millner was trash, and she hadn’t ever disliked her as much as she did right now.

Look what Justine had done to Mike. Suzie didn’t know whether it was marrying Justine or losing Justine that had done it, but Mike Frome was a different man.

Ten years ago, he’d been one of the most infuriatingly smug boys in their high school. He’d also been one of the most attractive. Just being around him had been like chugging caffeine. He gave off this exciting zing of vitality that was addictive, even for Suzie, who ordinarily avoided the preppy crowd like poison.

The zing was gone.

Of course, he was still too handsome for his own good, she thought as he politely led her on a tour of his boathouse. On the outside, it was charming, white trim over dark wood, with dormers that overlooked the lake. Inside, it was large and surprisingly homey for a bachelor pad.

Following behind him, she realized that he still had the sexiest back she’d ever seen, though now she looked at it purely with an artist’s eye. If she were to paint it, she’d start with a long triangle—she always reduced a face or body to its underlying geometric basics first. Then she’d add finely cut, fluid musculature, no artificial steroid bulk here, just a genetically blessed body that worked for a living.

“That’s about it. The bedrooms are on the second floor, well, third floor if you count the boat slips beneath, but they’re both too disgusting to show anyone right now.” Mike lifted one eyebrow. “I think we’re going to have to fire the upstairs maid.”

He winked at his son, who grimaced back. Must be a running joke.

They had made it to the kitchen, an efficient space, not too big, but somehow airy and comfortable. Suzie caught Mike looking at her speculatively as she admired the cabinets. Under his polite exterior, he must be wondering what the heck she was doing here, after all these years.

She smiled back and cut a subtle glance toward Gavin. She couldn’t explain herself until they were alone.

She didn’t know whether he actually got the message, or if it was just a coincidence, but Mike immediately turned to his son.

“I’m going to show Suzie the porch. Any chance you could toss in a load of towels and fold the ones in the dryer? We’re just about out.”

Gavin looked as if he’d like to complain, but he didn’t. “Okay,” he said. He turned to Suzie. “You won’t leave right away?”

“I’ll be here a few more minutes,” she said. “If you’re not back when I’ve got to go, I’ll come say goodbye.”

Gavin grinned, and for the first time Suzie could see Mike in the boy. “Well, better not actually come into the laundry room,” he said. “Our downstairs maid isn’t all that great, either.”

Mike dismissed Gavin with a shooing motion. He grabbed a plastic container of store-bought cookies from the counter, and then he led Suzie through a pair of large, glass-paned French doors.

As she stepped out onto the porch, she caught her breath. It was absolutely gorgeous, a wraparound deal with an amazing view. Out here, with water on three sides, you were intensely aware that this house was actually built right on the lake.

Mike held out one of two white wicker armchairs, and she took it, appreciating its soft old cushions, and the companionable creak when she leaned back.

Mike sat, too, and for a minute they were silent, just watching the afternoon sunlight play on the water. It bounced off and danced against the walls of the porch, too. It would be a challenge, she thought, to capture this living light on a canvas.

It probably had been a happy place, once. Mike and Gavin had probably spent hours out here, watching the breeze ripple the blue lake. But it was clear that they had pretty much forgotten what happiness tasted like.

God only knew what they saw when they looked out at the water now. Somewhere on the other side of that lake was Justine’s mansion. And the muddy spot where her body had been buried.

She glanced at Mike, and she realized he was smiling at her, a hint of that old smile. She couldn’t quite meet it. It was still strong stuff, and even after all this time she wasn’t completely immune.

“God, Suzie-freaka, it’s good to see you. It’s been a long, long time.”

His voice, and his smile, were strangely unsettling, like haunted echoes from the past, from way back when she hated herself almost as much as she hated him. Suddenly the air felt tight, even though the breeze was cool and fresh, fingering her hair and ruffling the sleeves of her dress.

She was irked with herself for reacting like this. The past wasn’t the issue, damn it. She wasn’t here to reminisce about the bad old days. She was only here out of common humanity. She was here to give an old friend—no, an old acquaintance—a heads-up.

Mike held out the cookies. “So, want to tell me what’s happening?” He pulled in one corner of his mouth, creating that annoyingly attractive dimple. “Somehow I don’t think you just woke up this morning and said, ‘hey, I wonder how that obnoxious boy I hated in high school is doing?’”

The boy she hated in high school… He must have read her mind. But was that all he was? Maybe. She had definitely hated him. Even when she…didn’t.

“No,” she said, waving away the cookies, which were hard and sandy, typical grocery store pseudo food. “It’s something more serious, I’m afraid. It’s about Justine. Well, about Justine’s father, anyhow.”

Mike set the container down slowly. “What about him?”

“He asked me to visit him this morning, at Justine’s house.”

She watched Mike’s face, wondering how he could stay so impassive. Where had all those quicksilver emotions gone? The easy laughter, the twitching frown, the worried squint, the sarcastic eyebrow? The restless, young-animal body.

The zing.

He was so still now. So controlled. It was like looking at a picture of Mike instead of the real thing.

“Oh, yeah?” Mike flipped a cookie between his fingers, keeping his eyes on the water. “What did he want?”

She took a breath. This was it.

“He wants me to help him pin Justine’s murder on you.”

That got his attention. But it didn’t completely surprise him. As he slowly faced Suzie, she saw anger but not shock behind his dark brown eyes.

“Pin it…how would you be able to do that?”

“He hoped I might have seen something while I was painting Gavin’s portrait. Something between you and Justine. An argument, maybe.”

“But you couldn’t have. I was never at the house when you were there.”

“I know.” She chewed on her lower lip, wishing she could stop herself from asking the next question but knowing she probably couldn’t. She’d never had very good impulse control. “I always thought I might run into you, but I never did. Was that deliberate? Were you avoiding me on purpose?”

“Yes.”

She frowned. “Well, that’s a hell of a note,” she said. “Just ‘yes’?”

“Well, what do you want me to say? Yes, it was deliberate. Yes, I was avoiding you on purpose.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, and it, too, held the echo of the old days. He always did have a large, infuriating repertoire of smug-jock mannerisms. “I thought you’d prefer it that way.”

“You thought I…” She frowned for a few seconds, feeling herself heating up, though she wasn’t sure why. Mike Frome had always been able to confuse her in world-record time, which inevitably ticked her off. “Why?”

“I thought seeing me might make you…” He seemed to search for a word. “Uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? Her temperature rose even higher. What the heck was that a euphemism for? Did he think she was still a geeky, untouched virgin who would blush at the memory of the night he’d copped a feel?

“Know what, Frome? That’s BS, and you know it. I haven’t got anything to be uncomfortable about where you’re concerned. Sixteen seconds of touchy-feely ten years ago doesn’t exactly require me to wear the scarlet letter for the rest of my life.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean that. I meant that seeing me might make you unhappy. You know, you might—”

Unhappy? Oh, this was even worse. Did he think she’d actually spent the past ten years carrying a torch for Mr. Most-Likely-To-Succeed? Oh, brother.

“Might what? Might turn to stone just from looking at your irresistible bod? Sorry, but that’s baloney, too. You may have been the king of the sandbox in Firefly Glen, but it’s a pretty small sandbox. Out in the real world, where I’ve been living for the past ten years—”

To her surprise, Mike began to laugh. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Easy, Fang. You’re getting it all wrong.”

She forced herself to take a deep breath. Man, was she regressing. She didn’t do this anymore, didn’t fly off the handle, didn’t read insults into perfectly innocent comments. Her tendency toward irrational ferocity had disappeared the minute she left Firefly Glen, which in her opinion proved that Mike Frome must have been the problem all along.

However, there was such a thing as protesting too much. She inhaled one more time, just for good measure.

“Or maybe,” he said, “I’m putting it all wrong.”

“Probably both,” she said tightly. “We never did really communicate all that well. But, look, we’re getting off topic. This is serious. I’m trying to tell you that your ex-father-in-law wants to see you spend the rest of your life in jail.”

“Okay.” He gazed at her, the poker face returning. “So what did you tell him?”

“I told him I hadn’t laid eyes on you in ten years. That frustrated him, but it didn’t really slow him down much. He made it clear that if I’d just say I saw you shove Justine around or something he’d make it worth my while.”

The smile remained on Mike’s lips, but it was as if he’d simply forgotten to put it away. He still had hold of her hand, so she knew how tight his fingers were.

“And what did you say to his offer?”

She pulled her hand away. “What do you think I said?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head slowly. “I think you said no. I hope you said no.”

“But you’re not sure?”

He stared at her a moment, and then, his body stiff, he rose from his wicker chair. He leaned against the railing, his back to the sunshine, which threw his face into shadow.

“How can I be sure? The Suzie I used to know—she would have told Alton to take his money and stuff it up his hairy ass. But I haven’t seen you in ten years. I don’t know you anymore. Not really.”

“You think ten years is enough to turn me into a liar?”

He hesitated again. “Ten years can do a lot of rotten things to people, Suzie. If you don’t know that yet, I’m happy for you.”

She stood up. “Let me get this straight. You think it could turn me into a woman who would send a man to the gas chamber for something he didn’t do?”

“Perhaps not.” He lifted one hand. The effort to look suave, indifferent, world-weary failed miserably. He was just plain tired. “But am I sure? No. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

Her annoyance faded slightly in the face of his exhaustion.

“Well, you can be sure of this. Millner is going to try to frame you for this, Mike. He’s going to do any dirty thing he can to see that you pay for what happened to Justine.”

“I know.” He glanced toward the French doors, obviously wondering if Gavin was within earshot. “But frankly, Suzie, Alton Millner isn’t the only vulture out to get me. He isn’t even the most dangerous one. The D.A. has a bead on me, too. I guess it’s pretty standard for the cops, even if it feels outrageous to me. They always look at the husband first.”

She felt an upwelling of incredulous indignation. Was everyone around here insane? Mike Frome couldn’t kill anyone. Heck, Suzie herself was a more likely candidate. She’d hated Justine, and she was, after all, the one they called “Fang.”

But neither of them had done it. They just weren’t that kind of people.

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” she said. “Jeez. Shouldn’t you be a better judge of people than that if you’re going to be the D.A.?”

Mike almost smiled. “You’re so sure he’s wrong, then?”

Suzie rolled her eyes. “I’ve known you since you were about six, Frome. You can be a horse’s ass, and you do have an irritating tendency to think you’re God’s gift. But kill somebody? No way. Kill your own child’s mother? Not in a bazillion, trillion years.”

“Damn.” His half smile turned into a grin. “Why couldn’t you have been the D.A.?”

She shrugged, but she felt herself smiling, too. “Couldn’t have handled law school. Problems with authority, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

Man, this was getting weird. A minute ago she’d wanted to punch him out, and now she had this stupid impulse to go over and hug him. She felt a disgustingly maternal urge—perhaps the first in her whole life—to help him hang on to that smile.

But she forced herself to stay where she was. “Well,” she began. “That’s all I had to say, so I guess I should—”

“Suzie.”

She frowned, just on principle. “What?”

“Thanks for coming by to warn me. It was very—very sweet.”

“Wow.” She found herself smiling again, and she made a few adjustments to make sure it was a sarcastic smile. Behind her, she heard footsteps approaching. Gavin must be coming back. “You’ve used a lot of words to describe me through the years, but I don’t think you ever used that one.”

Mike was still looking at her in that soft way that made her feel like squirming.

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “Just one of my many mistakes.”

SOMETIMES MIKE BELIEVED that if he hadn’t let Justine talk him into leaving Firefly Glen, everything would have been fine.

There was magic here. The Sunday after Suzie’s visit and her disturbing news, he went home for Spencer Fairmont’s sixteenth birthday party. And as he watched his son playing touch football on the front lawn of Summer House, he felt his whole body relaxing.

Though there were about two dozen Glenner children out there, Mike couldn’t take his eyes off Gavin. Look at that smile. He hadn’t smiled like that since his mother’s body had been discovered, almost a month ago.

Magic wasn’t an exaggeration.

And it wasn’t just the magic of “home.” Mike knew that, when faced with your first mortgage payment, your first endless, numbing workweek, or your first real personal crisis, it was easy to get all misty about the innocence of youth.

But Firefly Glen was more than that, and he’d always sensed it, even as a child. Firefly Glen was special. Nestled in a small Adirondack valley, the town was ringed by wooded mountains and spangled with flowers, waterfalls, rivers and birds. It was peopled by gentle eccentrics who argued constantly, and yet stuck together with a loyalty that seemed to belong to another century…or a fairy tale.

Many of those quirky townsfolk were Mike’s own kin. He was a fourth-generation Glenner, and his parents and grandparents still lived here. His cousin, Natalie Granville Quinn, had once owned Summer House, though the crazy old villa was now open to the public as a historic site—and rented out for parties, like this one.

“Can you believe how grown-up he is?”

Mike looked up and saw Natalie standing over him with a cup of punch in each hand. He wasn’t sure which kid she meant. Birthday boy Spencer had come to Firefly Glen as a scared little boy of six. And of course Gavin had left here, ten years ago, as an infant. Three of Natalie’s own four boys were out there, too—the fourth was still in diapers, too young to romp about with the big kids.

Mike took the punch. Natalie gathered her full yellow skirt under her knees and sat down on the step beside him. “Aren’t you glad someone else is mowing this monstrosity now?”

He glanced around at the smooth carpet of grass, which was glowing with gold highlights as the afternoon sun began to drop in the west. “You bet I am. Aren’t you glad someone else is in charge of the repairs?”

Natalie made a swooning sound and leaned her elbows back against the marble gracefully. “Giving this place up was the best decision I ever made.”

Just then Matthew walked by, their youngest son in his arms, and ruffled her hair. Both males made loud, wet kissing noises. Natalie kissed back, then grinned at Mike. “Make that second-best.”

Frankly, it was hard to believe that this happily sex-crazed blonde was now a thirty-eight-year-old mother of four. She hardly looked a day older than she had at Mike’s wedding ten years ago, while he felt about a hundred.

Guess true love really was the fountain of youth, he thought, trying not to be bitter.

“You make marriage look easy,” he said. He glanced around. Now that twilight had settled in, the band up on the balcony had begun to play slow songs. Couples were swaying together in little love pods all along the front courtyard. Spencer had a new girlfriend, and they looked so sweet, foreheads touching, hands folded between their bodies as if the dance were a prayer. Ward Winters, who was nearly ninety, was in a lip-lock with Madeline Alexander. Griffin and Heather Cahill were nuzzling like newlyweds. It just went on from there.

He turned back to Natalie. “You all make it look easy.”

Natalie’s brown eyes were gentle. “It is easy,” she said. “If you’re married to the right person. You can’t judge from your experience, honey. That was…well, it was like getting caught in a freak storm at sea.”

He noticed she didn’t say Justine’s name. As if there were a conspiracy to shelter him, whenever Mike entered the town limits, the problems of his “real” world dropped away. They had welcomed Justine back while the marriage lasted, and after the divorce no one ever said a word against her, especially not to Gavin. In fact, they rarely mentioned her.

Sure, occasionally crusty Theo Burke would begin to make some snarky comment, or maybe Ward Winters would start to grouch about Mayor Millner, but someone would always poke them hard, or stomp on their feet, and they’d swallow the words with a gruff apology, and the comforting cocoon would remain unbroken.

“Hurricane Justine wasn’t completely unexpected,” Mike corrected. “Plenty of people warned me. I just wasn’t listening.”

Natalie patted his shoulder. “That’s not entirely your fault, either. You just had a really bad case of TB.”

He gave her a curious look. Natalie had always been eccentric. All Granvilles were. You rarely had any idea what she’d say next. He was actually kind of glad that he was only one-sixth Granville. He had troubles enough.

“TB?”

She nodded. “Testosterone Blindness. It afflicts young men from the ages of twelve to about twenty. Its symptoms include bad judgment, night sweats, following some gorgeous girl around with their tongue hanging out, and—”

“Are you guys talking about Granville?” Parker Tremaine, the Glen’s favorite local lawyer, plopped down on the other side of Mike. “Because, much as I like your grandfather, Mike, I honestly think he’s too old to be having quite so much fun dancing with Suzie Strickland.”

Natalie made an excited sound and immediately began scanning the dance floor for her irrepressible great-uncle. “That old devil,” she said, chuckling. “I didn’t even know Suzie was coming. Is he really making a pass at her?”

“I might not go that far, but he certainly is enjoying himself.” Parker raised one eyebrow. “Can’t say I blame him. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen her. She looks amazing.”

Natalie glanced back at Parker irritably. “But of course she looks amazing, dummy. Didn’t you know she always was a beauty under all that goop?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I didn’t. I knew she was cuter than she wanted to let on, and of course she was always a work in progress. But this—”

“There they are! Hmm…oh, dear. This may be the beginnings of a Granville moment.” Natalie scrambled to her feet, dusting off her yellow skirt. “I’d better go throw some cold water over him. Later, boys. Be good.”

Mike had located his grandfather and Suzie, too. He watched her smiling up into the old man’s face, accepting his ridiculous flirtation with sardonic good humor. She was wearing red jeans and a halter top that had a surprisingly sexy updated-Grecian look, with ribbons crisscrossing her breasts, then falling with a seductive flare around her hips.

She still looked different from everyone else, but she didn’t look wrong anymore. She just looked special.

As the music swelled, Granville dipped her, in old-style ballroom elegance. He bent over her arched body, nearly putting his nose in her cleavage. Mike felt annoyance squeeze his gut briefly…Granddad, you dirty old bastard.

But when Suzie straightened up her eyes were sparkling with laughter, and her cheeks were almost as red as her clothes. She put her hand on Granville’s chest and pushed, removing him to a respectable distance. But she didn’t look mad. She looked…

Amazing might be an understatement.

Parker was watching, too. He looked over at Mike. “Did you know? Have you seen her lately?”

Mike nodded. “Actually, I saw her a few days ago, for the first time since I—left town. I was shocked. I’m like you. I knew she had something, but at the same time I didn’t know…this.”

Parker smiled. “Obviously she didn’t want anyone to know. I guess she wanted us to appreciate her deeper qualities.”

Mike laughed. “Like her sweet personality?”

“Well, no.” Parker laughed, too, and the two of them had a moment of silence, remembering just how little sugar Suzie had bothered to apply to life. “Like her brains, I mean. Her talent. And her spunk. I never knew anyone with more spunk.”

Both men watched as Natalie grabbed Suzie and spun her into a bear hug. The two women had always been great friends.

When Parker spoke again, Mike observed that the older man’s voice was carefully casual. “So you saw Suzie again for the first time just recently? That’s quite a coincidence.”

That’s exactly what Mike had been thinking. He’d been home to Firefly Glen frequently during his decade of exile. He’d brought Gavin here as often as possible, so that at least some of the magic would rub off. But he had never run into Suzie. Her parents still lived here, and he heard she was in town fairly frequently. Though they didn’t exactly run in the same circles, it was hard to believe they hadn’t ever bumped into each other—unless she planned it that way.

She might have needed to ask him whether he’d avoided her deliberately while she painted Gavin, but he didn’t need to ask her about this. Ten years of dodging him in Firefly Glen could not have been a coincidence.

And, hell, he didn’t blame her.

So why, all of a sudden, would she abandon that plan and show up at this party? She had to know he’d be here.

Somehow he dragged his gaze away from the dance floor. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by Suzie. He had something important he needed to say to Parker.

It wasn’t going to be easy. He liked the protective oasis the Glenners had offered him. It had always been such a relief to be able to pretend, even temporarily, that there was no Justine.

But, deep inside, he’d always known the oasis was a mirage. Now he had to give it up. He’d finally met a battle so big, so uniquely his, that no one else could fight it for him. Not even the entire town of Firefly Glen.

“Parker, I need your help,” he said. “I think I may be in some trouble.”

Parker was about fifteen years older than Mike, and had always been like an uncle to him. He had called Mike immediately after Justine’s body was found and offered to recommend a criminal attorney, just for safety’s sake. Mike had been naive enough to say thanks but no thanks.

Parker looked concerned now, but not shocked. “It’s Justine, I suppose. You’ve been questioned, I’m sure. Did it go badly?”

“I didn’t think so. But they’ve been back twice, asking the same things over and over. They asked if they could look at my car. The one I was driving the day she disappeared.”

“Did you let them?”

“Of course I did. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Did you retain counsel?”

Mike shook his head. He had trusted that innocence was everything. He had believed in the system. He still believed in it, at heart, but…

“I didn’t think I needed one. I thought it would look bad if I got a lawyer.”

Parker sighed. “So many people make that mistake. But everyone needs representation. Even innocent people need help handling the system.”

He reached into his pocket. “Here—this is Harry Rouge’s card. I brought it today because I had a feeling you might need it. I knew Harry in D.C. He’s good, and he’s got some experience with murder trials.”

Mike felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Surely you don’t think this is going to get that far? To a murder trial?”

“Of course it will, with any kind of luck. She was murdered—there’s no getting around that.” Parker smiled grimly. “But Harry will make sure it doesn’t go to trial with you as the defendant.”

Mike took the card. It all felt like a bad dream. Even the card felt unreal. Or maybe it was just that his fingers were numb.

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Now you do me a favor, okay?” Parker pointed to the back of the courtyard. “See my poor beautiful wife over there being bored to death by Bourke Waitely?”

Mike looked. Sure enough, Sarah was sitting next to Bourke, a polite smile plastered to her face like a bumper sticker. She looked desperate.

“Yes,” Mike said. “I do.”

“Well, go save her, would you? Ask her to dance. I’m going to see if I can pry the amazing Miss Strickland from your grandfather’s clutches.”

Mike stood, then held out a hand to help Parker to his feet, too. He looked over at Suzie, but he’d barely begun to formulate his idea even in his own mind before Parker began shaking his head.

“Bad idea,” Parker said softly. “The last thing in the world you need right now is to appear interested in another woman.”

Mike frowned. “For God’s sake, Parker, I’m not—I mean Suzie’s not ‘another woman.’ I’ve known her forever. She’s just a friend. She’s just…Suzie.”

“Wrong,” Parker said flatly. “She used to be just Suzie. Things are different now. Look at her, Mike. Now she’s a motive.”