Arousing Suspicions

by Marianne Stillings

  Yeah, first thing in the morning he’d talk it over with his partner. There were leads there, clues. He just needed to follow them.

  Besides, Tabby could still be in danger, and just because she didn’t love him didn’t mean he was going to abandon his commitment to protect her. Far from it.

  Damn, love sucked.

  Between bites of cheese omelet, Tabitha sensed her mother’s close scrutiny. She knew Victoria was waiting for her to say something about her weekend at the houseboat, and how she’d gotten home without her car, but so far no direct questioning had occurred. But this was Tabitha’s mother, after all. It was only a matter of time.

  Pouring hot water into her teacup, Victoria said casually, “Get everything all sorted out this weekend?”

  Tabitha swallowed. No. It’s worse than ever. “Mm-hmm.”

  Her mom set the steaming kettle back on the stove and took the seat across the table from Tabitha. Fiddling with a tea bag, she said, “Inspector Darling came looking for you. He said it was police business, so I told him where you’d gone. I hope that was okay.”

  Her eyes glued to her plate, Tabitha mumbled, “Mm-hmm.”

  “I played cards for a while with Eden and Flora, then hit the hay pretty early.”

  Stabbing at an innocent glop of cheese, Tabitha kept her lashes down. “Good.”

  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I came. Uh, in,” she corrected. “I came in. Late. It was late, but I definitely came…in.”

  Victoria chuckled as she raised her teacup to her lips. “I assume so, since you’re sitting here now.” Cocking her head, she said lightly, “How did the police business work out—”

  “Well if you’re going to grill me like this, I guess I’ll just have to tell you!”

  She let her fork fall from her fingers. It made a clattering sound as it hit the porcelain plate, and bits of omelet splattered the blue-and-white-checkered tablecloth. Thumping her elbows down on either side of her plate, she let her face fall into her hands. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  With a motherly kind of look, Victoria said softly, “I take it you and Nate slept together.”

  Tabitha nodded. Miserably.

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, he looks like he’d be pretty damned good.”

  Tabitha nodded again. Enthusiastically.

  “So what’s bothering you, honey? Didn’t you use protection?”

  “Yes and no,” she choked. “I did use protection, but the wrong kind.”

  Her mother’s pretty eyes grew somber. Setting her teacup on the table, she said, “I see. You used protection for your body, but not your heart.”

  Tabitha nodded once more. Slowly.

  “And you’ve been working so hard at not falling in love with him.” She stared down into her teacup. “You’ve been so determined to never let another man into your life, this one just sort of snuck up on you. You were angry at being out of love, and now you’re angry about being in it. It won’t come as any shock to learn you can’t have it both ways, sweetheart.”

  Tabitha lifted her lashes to look into her mother’s eyes. “He told me he loves me, but I couldn’t say it back. Oh, Mom. I just couldn’t say it. He was so hurt. He drove away without even saying good-bye.”

  Reaching for Tabitha’s hand, Victoria covered it with her own. She curled her fingers over her daughter’s and squeezed gently. “I wouldn’t worry too much, honey,” Victoria soothed. “If Nate really loves you, he’ll come around. He just needs to figure a few things out first.”

  “He does? About what?” She sniffled and willed herself not to cry.

  “About you. Something inside him must know you love him in return, which is why he felt safe telling you how he feels. But men have very fragile egos, my dear. A little rejection goes a long way. In the meantime, you have some thinking of your own to do.”

  Tabitha gazed across the table at her mom. With a wry smile, she said, “You’re the best mother I’ve ever had.”

  Victoria stood to take her dishes to the sink. A plate in one hand, her teacup in the other, she said, “Just remember that when it’s time to put me in a home, kiddo.”

  “Mom?” When her mother turned to face her, eyes wide with curiosity, Tabitha decided it was time for a full dose of the truth. “First, can you drive me over to Sausalito to get my car?”

  “Sure, but it’ll have to wait until after work.”

  She checked her watch. “I’ve got to leave in about ten minutes.”

  “Thanks. And, um, on the way, I need to discuss some stuff with you. I haven’t said anything because this case didn’t seem to be going anywhere, but I think it’s time I told you everything about it, and about Nate, and his brother, and Cal, too—”

  “Cal?” Victoria’s attention seemed to snag on her former son-in-law’s name. Her brow creased and her mouth curved down. “What in the hell does that loser want now?” she growled. Her eyes took on an angry glint. “I swear, I’m not a violent woman, but if he’s said or done any thing to hurt you any more than he already has, I’ll strangle that little bastard with my own two hands!”

  Chapter 21

  If you place a few sprigs of fresh rosemary in a vase next to your bed, you will have pleasant dreams.

  FOLKLORE

  “Peter,” Nate grumbled. “Dammit. Peter who?”

  Across the small conference room table, Nate’s partner shuffled through a stack of papers. “Okay, well, you got your Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, Peter Rabbit, Peter Pan…”

  “I think we can rule them out.”

  Bob snorted.

  Scanning Tabby’s handwritten notes, Nate said, “Apparently this Lucy Anderson looked and acted rich, maybe even powerful. Since she thought this Peter guy drove a Jag, we can tentatively assume these are people who move in high financial and social circles.”

  Bob grabbed his mug of coffee and took a gulp. “So we have a rich guy named Peter Something who would be plunged into scandal if his name was connected with a homicide investigation. That could narrow it down.”

  “And he probably works in the city, but doesn’t live here, as noted by the remark that Lucy Anderson had a long drive north to get home. Maybe Peter does, too, like Sonoma, Mendocino, Marin, or Napa…”

  Bob stood and walked to the white board and added that fact to the list of others the two detectives had already noted.

  “According to what this Anderson woman told Tab—Ms. March,” Nate corrected himself, “Peter’s father died recently, which put a great deal of stress on our guy. So we’re going to need a list of obits for men over the age of say, fifty, in the last eighteen months. Maybe one of them has a son named Peter.”

  Rubbing his jaw, Bob said, “Going to take some time to assemble that kind of data.”

  “Then we’d better talk to the lieutenant and get started.”

  As the two men began to gather their papers, Nate said, “Did you, uh, you ever meet my brother?”

  Tossing papers into his briefcase, Bob shook his head. “Ethan Darling? Not personally, no. But I heard of him. He was sort of legendary. They called him The R.C.”

  Nate arched a brow in inquiry.

  “The Righteous Closer. He had the highest percent of cleared cases on record. The tenacity of a freakin’ bull dog, and the personality to match.” Bob raised his head to smile at Nate. “No offense.”

  Nate grinned. “None taken.” Snapping the lock on his own briefcase, he said, “You ever hear why he left the force?”

  “You’re his brother. Didn’t he tell you?”

  Clearing his throat, Nate said, “We’re not close.”

  With a tilt of his head, Bob seemed to consider the situation. “Well, there was talk. You know how it is. But I was working the Tenderloin and he was out of Central, so I don’t know the details. I kinda recall that he was involved in a case where a civilian—a young woman, I think—got caught in the crossfire. Nobody seemed to have anything more to say on it than that.”

  Nate s
witched off the light and held the door open for his partner. “Do me a favor, would you, Bob? Start running those obits?”

  “Sure. Listen, I’m heading for the deli at lunch. You want something?”

  In the back of his mind, he saw Tabby, the dismay in her eyes when he told her he loved her…the jab to his heart when she’d remained silent…his reflection in the bathroom mirror that morning when he’d cursed himself, yet again, for being ten kinds of idiot.

  “Yeah,” he said. “See if they have any free-range crow.”

  Cal March chuckled out loud as he headed for the elevators on the eleventh floor of the posh Montecito Building.

  The news from the lawyer had been good; hell, the news had been awesome. Tabitha’s old wreck of a house was going to bring a tidy sum on the market, and he was first in line to cash in. What with California real estate prices running sky-high and no end in sight, in San Francisco even a Victorian in need of major repairs would bring a fucking fortune.

  Finally, he’d have enough money to head down to Hollywood and hang for a while until the right part came along. Bay Area commercials and regional stuff were fine, but really he was cut out for bigger things. Everyone, from his agent right on down to that starstruck bimbo with the big tits he’d laid last night, told him so.

  He ran his fingers through his thick hair. At thirty-four, he was prime stock. He had looks, style, a killer smile, and what he lacked in talent he more than made up for with a pair of kick-ass dimples. Yeah. Hoo-ray for Hollywood, baby.

  A microscopic twinge of guilt pinched his brain. He probably shouldn’t have slept with that girl last night, but she’d given him the come-on, and he wanted to test the waters, so to speak. Hollywood was filled to bursting with babes like her, and he just figured he’d get an early start. As long as his girlfriend didn’t find out, he’d be okay. Her uncle had a reputation for getting huge settlements for his clients and it wouldn’t pay to piss him off. If she told him Cal had been sleeping around, it might squelch the deal.

  On the one hand, he hated to do this to Tabs, but damn, the woman had a stubborn streak. If she’d taken out a loan on the house and given him his share, he wouldn’t be forced to coerce her into selling, but things just hadn’t been going his way lately, and, well, she had inherited the house during their marriage. To his way of thinking, it was by rights half his. According to his attorney, they stood a better-than-fair chance of a judgment in their favor.

  Cal pulled the cell phone from his pocket and pushed speed dial. She answered after one ring.

  “Hey, babe. You up for a night on the town?” He laughed, feeling like he was walking on freakin’ air. “My treat this time.”

  The connection wasn’t good, but he thought he heard her say, “Sounds…great…ere are you?”

  “I just left your uncle’s office and I’m heading down to get my car. Can you hear me okay?”

  “…hear you most…cutting out…uncle say?”

  He pushed the button for the elevator.

  “I’m about to go down to the parking garage, so I have to make this fast before I lose the signal. Your uncle says we can pull it off. Half of whatever my ex-wife has belongs to me, and I’m suing her for it. If I’m lucky, I should clear at least a million on the deal.”

  The elevator door opened and he got in and pressed the button for the parking garage. “Can you still hear me?”

  “…bad, but it’s…me up?”

  “Yeah, I’ll pick you up. Can you be ready in twenty minutes?”

  She said something, but it was faint and distorted by static.

  “I’m losing the signal. Listen, I’ll see you in twenty. And dinner tonight’s my treat. You’ve been paying for everything, and I think it’s time I took a turn, okay? Hello? Hey, baby, you there?”

  The signal was gone, so he flipped the phone closed. When the door opened, he stepped out, trying to remember where he’d parked his car. As he moved away from the elevator, he heard a noise behind him, a slight scuffling, then a popping sound.

  Something stung him between his shoulders, and he dropped the cell phone from his hand. Searing pain began making its way from his back to his brain, driving him to his knees.

  He was having trouble breathing, and as he put his hands to his throat, he looked down to see a red stain growing on the front of his white shirt.

  Jesus. What in the hell…

  He slumped over, his strength easing itself away from him as though he were drugged and going into a deep sleep. Unable to remain upright, he slid to the cold concrete floor of the garage, his eyes focused on his cell phone lying only two feet away.

  What was happening to him? Had he been shot? Yeah, yeah. That was the only explanation. But why didn’t it hurt? The pain had been great at first, but now it was diminishing, fading like music from a slowly passing car.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, too weak to keep them open. Seconds ticked by, or was it minutes? The sound of footsteps caused him to lift his heavy lids.

  His cell phone was gone. Blinking rapidly, he tried to focus on the retreating figure, but his lids were too heavy, and he closed his eyes again.

  He heard a car door slam; an engine hummed to life. Using every ounce of strength he possessed, he opened his eyes in time to see his killer’s car roll through the garage and head for the street.

  No way. Son of a bitch…

  Running his tongue over his dry mouth, he tried to form words, but his lungs didn’t have enough air to propel them from his lips. He stared vacantly at the empty, silent garage.

  But I was going to Hollywood…

  Monday drifted into Tuesday, and the rain clouds blew away, but Tabitha’s heart felt as bleak and heavy as if it were encased in permafrost. Wednesday, she did a lot of work for Dooley, Chissom and Hall, which helped keep her mind on legal tomfoolery and off Nate Darling. By Thursday she was thoroughly depressed and ready for her dream interpretation class. Interacting with her students always made her feel better, and she was hoping this week’s session would have that same effect.

  As she tossed her briefcase into her car and slid behind the wheel of her Civic, she thought about how much she missed Nate. Her throat ached all the time, not to mention her heart. Whenever the cell phone he’d given her chimed, she expected it to be him.

  She could call him and apologize, but what could she say? I’m sorry I hurt your feelings because I wasn’t ready to say the words you thought I should say just because you said them first?

  But the better question would be, why had she bit her tongue rather than confess her feelings? Her mom had been right—Tabitha had to ask herself some hard questions, soon, or she risked losing a man she’d grown to love from the very center of her being.

  It wasn’t love itself that was the problem, it was her trust about love. She knew full well that a man could love you fiercely one moment, and the next the fire that warmed your relationship was gone. And so was he.

  She was sure her parents had once had that kind of love, but look what happened to them. After thirty-five years of marriage, her father had up and left to “take the road less traveled,” was how he’d blithely put it. What had been wrong with the old road, except that it didn’t include love for her mom—and apparently Tabitha—anymore?

  And Cal had done the exact same thing.

  God, how she had loved Cal. And she’d been convinced he’d loved her. But he’d begun to stray whenever his actor’s ego needed a boost, and when she came home unexpectedly that fateful day, to find him in bed with not one, but two women from his theater company…

  Turning the corner a block short of the school, she let a soft “jerk” past her lips.

  And now that lyin’, cheatin’ ex of hers wanted money, and he actually might get it? Why in the hell didn’t he get a regular job like everybody else instead of skating by on his good looks, charm, and more confidence than any mortal had a right to have? If there was any justice in this world, it would all come back to bite him in the butt one of th
ese fine days.

  Her grandmother’s house was the lynchpin of her life, her home base, the place she could go and feel safe and secure, and because of Cal she might lose it. When they’d divorced, her emotions and feelings of self-worth had shattered, and it had taken her all this time to recover. She’d put her heart and soul into her marriage and he had thrown it away. And more.

  Desperately, she’d wanted a baby but for years, he wouldn’t commit, saying he needed to get his career going first. Her twenties slipped by, and then she turned thirty, then thirty-one, and still Cal refused.

  Then the day came, the day that shocked her to her core. The day that was the beginning of the end for their marriage.

  “You did what?” She’d stared at him, uncomprehending, certain she’d heard him wrong.

  “I had a vasectomy. Yesterday.” He’d said the words with not so much as a hint of guilt, as though he were ticking off items on his auto maintenance list. Yeah, got the oil changed, tires rotated, brake job. Oh, and finally got that vasectomy taken care of…

  She’d been unable to wrap her mind around the concept, and continued staring at him until the reality of his action finally began to penetrate her brain.

  He’d simply done it. Without talking to her, asking her permission, or taking her feelings or wishes into account at all, he’d had a vasectomy. There would be no babies. No family of her own.

  She’d been confused and hurt and angry and had cried for days. The betrayal was so great, divorce became inevitable. When she found him in bed with those two bimbos, it was simply a matter of filing the paperwork and making it official.

  He hadn’t wanted her to get pregnant, but more, he hadn’t wanted any of his girlfriends to get pregnant, either. It was all about Cal. Forever and always, it was about Cal.

  She couldn’t fathom Nate doing something so horrible, but where was her guarantee he wouldn’t simply grow tired of her? That would be the worst betrayal of all.

  Pulling into the school parking lot, she slid into her usual spot, more unsettled than ever.