Deadly Greetings Part 11

Howard stared at me so hard I thought he was going to slap me. "What are you doing, Jennifer?"

"I'm making conversation, that's all," I protested, lying.

He wouldn't avert his gaze. "I think there's more to it than that."

If he was going to accuse me of being too direct, I might as well take advantage of it. "Did you see Maggie the day she died?"

Howard snapped, "Are you asking me for an alibi?"

"Why, do you need one?" I shot the question right back at him. Why was he acting so strange? I hadn't even zinged him with a good question yet.

Howard must have realized he was talking louder than he should have. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"That sounds like a threat," I said. I couldn't believe this normally mild-mannered man had turned on me.

"However you want to think of it, that's fine by me.

He blew past me before I could say another word, but before he could get to the door, Betty was after him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving. Get your coat."

Her head jumped back as if he'd slapped her, but she held her ground. "What are you going to do if I say no?"

"Tell you to get a ride home. Do what you want. I'm leaving."

His exit would have been a great deal smoother if he hadn't had to stop and unlock the door, but he was gone quickly enough, and if my front door had been capable of slamming, Howard would have knocked it off its hinges.

Instead of going after him, Betty stormed toward me. "What did you say to him to set him off like that?"

I said, "I was just making conversation about Maggie's death."

Betty wasn't buying it. "There's more to it than that. I've been married to that man most of my life. What else did you say, Jennifer?"

She was backing me up against the wall. Had everyone in my club gone suddenly and utterly mad? "I asked him where he was when she died. I wasn't accusing him of anything, I swear it. I've just been wondering where Maggie was going when she died."

Betty's face went pale, and her voice was suddenly so low I could barely hear her. "If you must know, she was leaving our house and heading for home when it happened."

I certainly hadn't expected that. "What was she doing there?"

Betty's expression went dead. "Once upon a time we were friends. I didn't need her kind of friends.h.i.+p anymore though, and she wouldn't get the message."

I felt my knees start to buckle. "Betty, tell me you didn't do anything to Maggie."

"I threw her out of my house," Betty said shrilly. "And I'd do it again. I caught her making a pa.s.s at my husband during our last meeting here, and I had to protect my marriage."

"So you killed her?" I asked, my own voice growing weaker by the moment.

"I didn't hurt her!" Betty's shout of denial nearly blew my hair back. "She was fine when she left our place."

Lillian approached and put a hand on Betty's shoulder. "Are you certain of what you saw?"

"You knew Maggie; she'd flirt with anything wearing pants! Well, she wasn't running off with my husband."

Lillian said softly, "No dear, it appears he's running off all by himself."

Betty said, "Not if I can help it."

After she was gone, I looked at Hilda, and then at Lillian. "I swear I didn't know."

Hilda said, "Don't blame yourself, Jennifer. Betty even accused me once of making a pa.s.s at Howard. As if I ever would. She's been feeling threatened for the last six months."

"Does she have a reason to?" Lillian asked.

Hilda shrugged. "All I can say is that he never made a pa.s.s at me."

"But that's not all you suspect, is it?" Lillian pushed.

Hilda sighed. "It's common enough knowledge if you move in the right circles around Rebel Forge. I suspect Betty's paranoia wasn't completely irrational, but I doubt Maggie was the one in his life."

"But you don't know," I said.

"No," Hilda admitted. "It's all just idle speculation, isn't it?" She surveyed the food, still plentiful after our abbreviated meeting. "I'll be eating leftovers for weeks unless you both help me with some of this."

"I'd be delighted," I said.

To my surprise, Lillian added, "I'll take a few crab puffs home with me."

Hilda snapped the container shut that held them. "Take them all."

"I couldn't," Lillian protested.

"Honestly, I insist." I wanted some for myself, but if it would seal the rift between Hilda and my aunt, I supposed I could give the puffs up, as delightful as they were.

Lillian acquiesced. "Very well. At least let me help you carry these other trays back to your car."

"I'd be honored," Hilda said. Man, was she ever laying it on thick.

"Lillian, can I speak to you for a second?"

Hilda took the hint. "I'm down that way. I'll meet you there."

After she was gone, I asked my aunt, "Did you say anything about Timothy?"

A look of horror crossed her face. "Jennifer, I completely forgot! Everything happened so quickly. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," I said. "I forgot all about the mysterious cousin myself. It's just as well neither one of us brought him up." I gestured toward Hilda. "What's going on with her?"

"I wish I knew," she said as she headed off in Hilda's direction. After she was gone, I shut the lights off, locked the door behind me and walked in the other direction. I couldn't get my mind off Howard's reaction as I drove home. What could have possibly set him off like that? Could Betty's suspicions have been on the money? Why else would Howard react so strongly? He could have felt guilty about the last time he saw Maggie, but unless he'd had an affair with her after all, would he be so outraged by my fairly innocent questioning? I wasn't any closer to the truth when I got back to my apartment. Thankfully there were no notes or flowers waiting for me, but there was a message on my answering machine.

The second I hit the play play b.u.t.ton, I felt my heart twinge. It was Greg's voice, and he was more hurt than I could ever remember hearing him. "Hi, Jennifer. Guess you changed your mind. I just went by the card shop and the lights were all off. You should have had the decency to tell me to my face. Bye." b.u.t.ton, I felt my heart twinge. It was Greg's voice, and he was more hurt than I could ever remember hearing him. "Hi, Jennifer. Guess you changed your mind. I just went by the card shop and the lights were all off. You should have had the decency to tell me to my face. Bye."

Oh, no. I'd forgotten all about our late dinner date. I looked Greg's pottery shop up in the phone book and dialed the number, but there was no answer. I tried his home number, and the machine kicked in before it could ring a third time. "Greg? Are you there? Pick up. I didn't stand you up, I swear it. At least not on purpose. I'm sorry, something happened at the meeting tonight. No, that's no excuse. Call me, Greg. I'm sorry."

It was a pitiful apology, but until the next day, I wasn't going to be able to give him a real one. I even thought about driving over to his apartment, but Sara Lynn had told me he'd moved recently, so I didn't even know where to look. There was a chance she might know, but I realized that if I called my sister after eleven, she'd have a heart attack or, worse yet, give me one. Patching things up with Greg would just have to wait until tomorrow.

For the moment, all I could do was go to bed and hope the nightmare of a day I'd had would fade away once my head hit the pillow.

No such luck. I was haunted again in my dreams, with Maggie frowning at me in disappointment.

I didn't blame her. So far, I'd bungled things up pretty well, but I decided to take a page from Scarlett O'Hara. Tomorrow was indeed a new opportunity to muck things up even more.

I was walking downstairs the next morning when I saw the renter below me open his door. My first reaction was to bolt for the front door, but I knew I was going to have to make peace with this man whether I liked it or not, since he was my neighbor. All I knew him as was "J. Wallace," and that was from his mail slot instead of any formal introduction. He was dressed in a stuffy suit and very conservative tie, and I half expected him to have a bowler hat perched on his head.

In a rush of words, I said, "I'm really sorry about the other night. I can a.s.sure you that I'm normally not like that."

He didn't want to talk to me any more than I wanted to talk to him, but I was standing too close for the man to ignore me. "That's fine," he said, trying to brush me off, but I wouldn't hear of it.

"I've been meaning to thank you for your concern about me renting the place," I said. "I wish I'd had all the information I needed before I took it."

"I felt it was the least I could do," he said. Was the glacier in his voice actually warming up some?

"Well, it was more than neighborly. It was the right thing to do. Did you know Frances well?"

"We had a pa.s.sing acquaintance," he said. "Not much more than that. If you want to know anything about her, I suggest you ask him." The last bit was said with a gesture toward Barrett's door.

"Are you two friends?" I asked.

"Hardly. I can't think of a single thing we have in common."

"Except addresses," I said, trying to be light and cheerful. He wasn't making it any easier on me. "By the way, we didn't have a chance to really meet before. My name's Jennifer Shane." The way I put my hand out to him, he would have had to knock it away to move anywhere but backward, and I intended to follow him inside his apartment if that was what it took to get the man's first name out of him.

He studied it a moment longer than I would have liked, then took my hand gingerly in his. "My name is Jeffrey Wallace."

"Mr. Wallace, it's a pleasure to meet you." I considered for a moment calling him Jeffrey, but I was afraid he would bolt for sure if I did that.

"Ms. Shane," he said with an air of formality.

I was dying to ask him what he did for a living, but I ultimately decided to let it go for the moment. We'd made great progress so far, and I didn't want to ruin it.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Wallace. I hope we have the chance to chat more another time."

"Yes," he said, "that would be fine."

To my surprise, he followed me out the front door. As we walked to the parking pad for our cars, he said, "Ms. Shane, I shouldn't say this, but I'd be careful in my dealings with Barrett if I were you."

"Why is that?" I asked.

Mr. Wallace looked around before he spoke. "He entertains a fairly wide range of young women in that apartment of his. I'd hate to see him take advantage of you."

I touched his arm lightly, and could feel him tense up. Obviously Jeffrey Wallace was not a big fan of body contact in any guise. "Thank you for your concern, but n.o.body's taken advantage of me since the second grade. You might want to warn him about me, though."

Was that a smile that broke through his stern countenance for a moment? "Perhaps we'll let him discover that for himself, shall we?"

"It's a lot more fun that way," I said as I unlocked my Gremlin. Mr. Wallace was driving a Mercedes, but mot a new s.h.i.+ny one as I'd suspected. This one was at least twenty years old, and though he'd obviously done his best to keep it up, the signs of wear and age were pretty obvious.

"That's an interesting vehicle you've got there," 'tie said.

"I like a car with character," I said. "I like yours, too."

He nodded, then got into his Mercedes and drove away. I sat there a minute wondering what had brought three such different people together to live under the same roof. It was funny. I usually knew right off the bat if I liked someone or not, but I'd met Jeffrey Wallace twice and I still didn't have a clue how I felt about him.

As I drove through town to the card shop, I stopped at the bakery and picked up a couple of bear claws for the store and then decided to grab an apple fritter for Greg. Flowers or balloons might have been more appropriate for an apology, but I knew Greg's weakness for the confections, and I needed every advantage I could get to make up for last night. I parked in the lot near the store, then bypa.s.sed my front door and walked to his pottery shop. He had some pieces with a beautiful green glaze displayed in the window, and I could swear they s.h.i.+mmered as I walked past them. Greg was a decent potter, but it was his wonderful glazes that set his work apart. I could see a light on in his back room, so I was pretty sure he was there.

I banged on the door, then heard him shout, "We're not open for an hour."

"I'm not here to buy anything," I shouted right back.

He opened the door suddenly. "Jennifer, I'm surprised to see you here." Greg wore an ap.r.o.n over his blue jeans and T-s.h.i.+rt, and his dark hair was more disheveled than usual. I had to wonder if he'd slept at his shop again, but now wasn't the time to bring it up.

It was time to plunge in with my apology. "Listen, I'm so sorry about last night."

"I am too," he said. "If that's it, I'm working."

Boy, he really was miffed. I held up one of the bags from the bakery. "I brought you a present. Can I come in?"

He seemed to think about it, then reluctantly stepped aside. "Fine, but just for a second. I'm trying something new in back."

"Can I see it?" I knew how reluctant Greg was to share his unfinished work with anyone, but I was hoping if I showed enough interest, it might help break the chunky block of ice between us.

"Sorry, it's not ready for the world yet."

While it was a denial, I could see that Greg appreciated the attempt. I could read that man's face like a paperback. And why shouldn't I? We'd been together for a long time. Maybe that was part of the problem.

"So what did you bring me?" he asked, gesturing to the bag.

"What do you think?"

He rubbed his chin, then said, "If there's not an apple fritter in there, you're going to have to go back." A slight hint of playfulness danced in his brown eyes, a very good sign indeed.

"I've got two bear claws," I said, and saw the light dim a moment, "but those are for the shop. The apple fritter's all yours."

He grabbed the bag I held out to him, opened it and tore off a chunk of the pastry. "Man, that's good. All I've had this morning is coffee, and that's from yesterday."

"I'm sorry; I should have brought you some fresh this morning. Tell you what, I'll brew a pot when I get to the shop and bring it back to you."

He took another bite, then said, "Don't bother, Jen, I've got one brewing in back myself. Listen, I appreciate the gesture, but I really do have to get back to work."

"So all is forgiven?" I searched his eyes, hoping he could see the sincerity in mine.