Leonora shook her head. “Nothing was missing as far as I could tell. But it made me recall something she said to Travis when the two of them left their little hideaway upstairs.”
“What was that?” Deke asked.
“I think she told him that they had to hurry because there was something she had to do today if she got a chance.”
“Well, hell,” Thomas said softly. He took a sip of beer and put down the bottle. “Well, hell.”
She looked at him. “Now what?”
“This Julie Bromley. She have a ponytail? Wear a red leather jacket?”
“How did you know?” Leonora asked.
“Because I saw her this afternoon. Visiting Alex Rhodes. I told Wrench I didn’t think she was a client.”
“Oh, wow,” Leonora said. “Julie and Alex Rhodes. I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Neither do I,” Thomas said.
“Funny you should mention Rhodes,” Deke said dryly. “This is probably as good a time as any to tell you why I came calling this evening. I learned a few things about our friendly neighborhood antistress counselor.”
“You have our undivided attention,” Thomas said.
“A few years ago Rhodes was ABD at a small college in the Midwest,” Deke began.
“ABD?” Thomas said.
“All But Dissertation,” Leonora explained. “A Ph.D. candidate who hasn’t quite finished all the requirements.”
“Got it. Go on, Deke.”
“Rhodes was working as a graduate teaching assistant in the department of chemistry. His contract was, as they say, not renewed.”
“Meaning he was fired?” Thomas said.
“More or less.” Deke made a face. “From what I could find out online, Rhodes was let go because he had a hobby of seducing his female students.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Thomas said.
“One of the sweet young things was the daughter of a very wealthy alumnus who had given a lot of money to the school. Said alumnus was furious when he discovered that his precious offspring had been fooling around after hours in the chemistry lab with Rhodes. He insisted that the college dump Rhodes.”
“I don’t blame him,” Leonora said.
“After he got kicked out, Rhodes seems to have moved around a lot. He got some one-year contracts in the chemistry departments of various small colleges. Never lasted very long anywhere, though. Apparently he continued to engage in his hobby of seducing the wrong students. There were complaints.”
“I’ll bet there were,” Leonora said.
“Here’s the really interesting part.” Deke sat forward on the stool, radiating controlled excitement. “There were rumors that Rhodes used that stuff they call the date-rape drug, and maybe other junk in the course of his seductions.”
“And now he’s here in Wing Cove,” Leonora whispered. “Selling his antistress formula.”
Thomas looked at Deke. “Any luck with those lab tests on that powder?”
“Not yet,” Deke said. “But I’m expecting to hear from my friend soon.”
“What do we do if the results show that Alex Rhodes is selling hard drugs labeled as antistress formula?” Leonora asked.
“That’s easy,” Thomas said. “If we get that lucky, we take everything to Ed Stovall and dump it into his lap. No way he can ignore that kind of problem.”
Deke took a swallow of beer. “But you don’t think we’ll get that lucky, do you?”
“Nothing else about this mess has been simple,” Thomas reminded him.
Two hours later Thomas and Wrench stood on Leonora’s front porch. Leonora had her key in her hand. They had driven back to her place in her car. They would walk home across the footbridge.
Thomas had suggested that she might want to spend the night at his house. She had declined. He hadn’t pushed. It was okay, he told himself. He could play the waiting game.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, inserting her key into the lock. “I’ve got no problem with the theory that Rhodes is up to no good. But I don’t see him as a killer. He’s more the slick, con artist type.” She sighed. “You know, like Meredith.”
“I’d agree with you,” Thomas said. “Except that there are drugs involved. And where drugs are in the mix, all bets are off. People in the drug business get killed. Just ask any cop.”
“We don’t know for sure yet about the drugs. All we’ve got are rumors.”
“You see enough smoke, you start to wonder if maybe there’s a fire.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You know what I’d really like to find out? I’d like to find out where Alex Rhodes was on the night Bethany jumped off that bluff on Cliff Drive and the night Meredith crashed her car in L.A.”
She got the door open and turned to face him. “That may not be possible.”
“In the meantime,” he continued, “I think we should lean on Julie Bromley a little.”
She thought about that and nodded. “Might work. She’s only nineteen years old. Doesn’t strike me as a hardened criminal. If we confronted her with the fact that we know she searched my satchel and that we also know she’s connected to Alex Rhodes, she would probably fall apart pretty fast. But I doubt if she’ll be able to tell us very much.”
“It’s worth a shot. I’ll dig up her address tonight. We can catch her tomorrow morning before she leaves for classes.”
“All right.” Leonora gave Wrench a good-night pat and prepared to close the door. “Not like we’ve got a lot of other leads.”
Thomas realized she was about to close the door. He put one foot over the threshold, making that action impossible. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“You going to just pretend tonight never happened?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“After seeing you in my bathrobe this evening, Deke is going to think that we’re sleeping together. I was sort of under the same impression, myself.”
“So?”
“So, I’d like a little clarification,” he said. “Are we involved in some kind of relationship here, or was this evening just a one-night stand?”
She gave him her dazzling smile, the one that made him feel like he was standing in a dark tunnel watching the light of an oncoming train coming toward him.
“For the record,” she said, “I never engage in one-night stands.”
He suddenly felt a lot better than he had a moment ago. “Is that a fact?”
“It is, indeed.”
“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but by process of elimination, it would appear that if our encounter earlier tonight was not a one-night stand, then what we have here is some kind of relationship.”
“I do admire a man who can connect the dots,” she said. “Good night, Thomas.”
The relief morphed into a totally irrational euphoria. He leaned forward and kissed her without removing his hands from the pockets of his jacket. Just to see what she would do.
She kissed him back. Without putting her arms around him.
He took his foot off the threshold. She closed the door in his face. Gently.
“Let’s go home, Wrench.”
They went down the steps together. A movement in the window made Thomas glance back over his shoulder. Leonora stood there, holding the curtain aside, watching them leave. She was silhouetted against the warm lamplight of the living room. He took one hand out of his pocket and lifted it in a small wave. She waved back.
He was whistling by the time he and Wrench got to the footbridge.
Chapter Thirteen
Leonora opened the door of her cottage very early the following morning and was confronted by watery sunshine. It made a pleasant change from the fog, she decided.
She pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head, tugged on a pair of gloves and went briskly down the steps. When she reached the jogging path, she turned left, the direction that would take her toward the footbridge, the shortcut to Thomas’s house.
Pure intellectual curiosit
y, she thought. She just wanted to see if he was an early riser like herself. Find out if they had that much in common, at least.
Not that having a lot of interests in common was a guarantee of a sound and lasting relationship, as she had discovered the hard way with Kyle.
She walked briskly, wondering what Thomas would be wearing if he did happen to be up at this hour. Maybe he wouldn’t be out of the shower yet. She indulged herself in a harmless little fantasy that involved Thomas answering the door wearing his robe. With nothing at all on underneath.
They could discuss strategy for the confrontation with Julie Bromley. Or maybe some other topic equally pertinent to their investigation.
Or maybe he would invite her to go back to bed with him.
She walked a little faster.
The rhythmic thud of running shoes coming up behind her broke into her pleasant daydream. She heard heavy breathing and moved to the side.
A moment later Cassie, impressive physique sheathed in a halter top, tights and a pair of running shorts, pulled up alongside. Perspiration beaded her brow and soaked her running bra. Her red curls were held back off her forehead by a terry-cloth sweatband.
She saw Leonora. Surprise flickered across her face. She slowed to a walk and smiled.
“Hello,” she said. “Didn’t see you until I almost ran over you.”
“Good morning.” Leonora kept moving. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“No, no, this is fine. I was almost finished, anyway.” Cassie wiped her brow on the back of her arm. “Actually, this is good timing, at least for me. I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking of dropping by your cottage this afternoon. Mind if we keep moving while I cool down?”
Leonora had to lengthen her strides to keep up with her. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t really have time to take yoga lessons.”
“I wasn’t planning to sell you any.” Cassie’s mouth twisted in a wry grimace. She breathed deeply. “I wish it were that simple. I’m afraid this is a little more personal.”
“Ah. Deke and Thomas.”
Cassie gave her a quick, searching look and then she drew another long breath and planted her hands on her hips. “Yes. Deke and Thomas. Especially Deke. I won’t beat around the bush. You’ve met him. Talked to him. What do you think?”
“I think he’s having some problems getting past the death of his wife. Probably could use some grief counseling.”
“I suggested that. So did Thomas. Deke won’t do it. He doesn’t think it will help.”
“He needs closure.”
Cassie sighed. “His job, as he saw it, was to take care of Bethany. In the end, he feels he failed.”
“No one can take complete responsibility for another person’s life, health or happiness. It isn’t possible.”
“I know. But for some reason Deke is obsessing on Bethany’s death. His guilt and depression have caused him to weave all sorts of bizarre theories.”
“I’m no psychologist,” Leonora said. “But from what I’ve heard about Bethany, I would say that she was fragile. Evidently she had trouble coping with real life or maybe she just wasn’t interested in it. She preferred to retreat to the realm of mathematics as often as possible. Deke said she sometimes spent days and nights in her office and long, long hours at Mirror House.”
Cassie snorted inelegantly. “I never met her, you understand, but I’d say that calling her fragile is a polite euphemism for selfish. I think she must have used her brilliance as an excuse to become extremely self-centered.”
“I’ve known one or two people whose IQs were literally off the charts. True genius can be a burden. It can make a person feel very isolated.”
“I understand,” Cassie said. “I’m sure that it’s difficult for anyone who is extraordinarily gifted to deal with the demands and routines of ordinary life.”
“Easy to see why such a person might feel more at home in a parallel universe where logic and mathematics hold sway and order prevails. It’s also easy to see how others might want to protect such a delicate flower.”
“I suppose so,” Cassie agreed. She sounded grim and morose.
“Maybe for Bethany, that other universe was where she felt at home,” Leonora continued, getting into her theory now, thinking of the ramifications. “To one of those rare high IQ types, this world probably seems like a strange, unpredictable, illogical place.”
“Yes.” Cassie’s jaw twitched. “I’m sure you’re right. Bethany probably did feel as if she was different from everyone else.”
“Because she was different. Who knows? Maybe she really did need to be protected from the demands of daily life. But one person can’t do that for another. Not for long, at any rate. The task would be frustrating, thankless and, in the end, futile. A man who tried to do it for a woman would inevitably come to the conclusion that he had failed.”
Cassie came to a halt on the path and turned to face her. “Exactly.”
Leonora halted, too. “A man who feels he screwed up big-time as a knight in shining armor would probably be extremely reluctant to risk getting involved in another relationship.”
“Damn. It’s hopeless, isn’t it? He’ll never look at me as long as he’s obsessed with finding out what happened to Bethany.”
“I’m not so sure it’s a lost cause.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think Deke is as depressed as everyone believes. I do think that he’s on a mission to find out what happened to Bethany. Clearly he needs some answers. In that sense, you could say he’s obsessed. But I have a feeling that kind of single-mindedness is a family trait.”
“You think so?”
“I can see Thomas doing the same thing under similar circumstances. Heck, when you think about it, he is doing the same thing because he’s committed to helping Deke.”
“What this boils down to is that all I can do is stand back and wait until Deke gets the answers he needs. But what if he never finds those answers?”
“I don’t see why you have to be passive in this. Maybe you should take some steps to get Deke’s attention.”
“How?”
“I’m not exactly an expert.” Leonora smiled. “But I know one I can call for advice.”
A short time later, she went up the steps of Thomas’s cottage and knocked on the front door. It opened almost at once.
Wrench bounded out, an old yellow tennis ball in his mouth. He placed it at her feet and sat down proudly, prepared to have his gift appreciated.
“Thank you, Wrench.” She bent to pick up the tennis ball. “It’s lovely.”
Wrench looked pleased. She tugged gently on his bent ear.
“Don’t know where the hell he got that,” Thomas said. “I’ve never played tennis in my life.”
She straightened when she saw him looming in the hallway. His hair was damp from the shower. His bare shoulders seemed to stretch from wall to wall. He had a towel wrapped around his waist.
Just a towel. It rode low on his hips and left a great deal of him exposed.
And here she had been fantasizing about a bathrobe. Obviously she lacked imagination.
“Come on in. I was about to make some breakfast.” Thomas gave her a slow, sexy smile. “What brings you calling at this hour?”
“I was out for my morning walk. Thought I’d see if you were an early riser.”
“I am, as a matter of fact. Goes with having a dog.” He stepped back to allow her inside. “I just got out of the shower.”
She looked down at the towel he had wrapped around his waist. “I noticed.”
“I was hoping you would.” He grinned and pulled her into his arms. “I don’t generally answer my door draped only in a towel, you know.”
She flattened her palms on his chest and wiggled her fingers in the crisp curling hair that covered him there. “You went to all this trouble just for me? I’m very flattered.”
“Would you like to come back to my bedroom and help me finish getting dressed?”
>
“If you feel you need help selecting your attire, I would be only too happy to assist. I have a good sense of color and style.”
“This must be my lucky day.” He scooped her up in his arms and started down the hall. “Thing is, I’ll have to take off the towel before I can put on any clothes.”
“Of course you will.”
“You know,” Thomas said a long time later, “if you’re going to make a habit of walking past my house every morning just in time for breakfast, maybe you should think about spending the nights here. Be a lot more efficient.”
She watched him ladle the steaming oatmeal he had just finished preparing into two bowls. “I like to walk in the mornings. Good exercise.”
He wondered if he had been a little too subtle. He didn’t do subtle well. He decided to try again, keeping it light but a bit more to the point.
“If it’s exercise you’re after, I would be happy to provide you with the type we just had in the bedroom on a daily basis,” he said.
“It did get my heart rate up a bit. But I’m not sure sex is a substitute for aerobic walking.”
Maybe he was still erring on the subtle side.
“Okay, I’ve got another idea.” He put the bowls of oatmeal on the counter and opened the container of brown sugar. “How about I spend the nights at your place and then we both walk back here for breakfast every morning? Think that would work?”
She opened the refrigerator and took out the carton of milk, keeping her back to him. “Sounds a lot like moving in together.”
“You’re not ready for that, I take it?”
She closed the refrigerator and turned around. Her expression was very serious. “I don’t think we should rush things, Thomas. They’re already moving fast enough.”
“Right. Wouldn’t want to move too fast.” Probably trip and fall flat on his face.
He sat down by the counter. Leonora slid onto the stool beside him and picked up a spoon.
“Maybe we should talk about how we’re going to handle Julie Bromley,” she said.
Okay. No one had to hit him over the head with a two-by-four to drive home a point. She wanted to change the subject. Right now.
Smoke in Mirrors Page 17