“Tell me about this accident.”
“On the footbridge.”
“You said you went to the emergency room but you certainly don’t look like you’ve seen a doctor.”
“They were busy with the other guy. I didn’t let them clean me up. Figured I could do that here.”
“You’re not making any sense, Thomas.”
“Like I said, it’s a long story.”
“You can tell it to me while we get you patched up.”
He did not argue.
She stepped around him, leading the way back through the living room and down the short hall.
She sat him down on the edge of the white tub and then she turned on the water in the sink. She saw him watching her in the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. His eyes were colder than the waters of the cove.
“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” she asked.
“I’m sure.”
She opened the cabinet and took down some alcohol, cotton swabs and a tube of antibiotic ointment.
“You always travel with a fully equipped medicine cabinet?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do. I keep the basics handy, at any rate. My grandmother taught me that. She believes in being prepared. Take off your jacket and shirt.” She faced him. “I need to see the full extent of the damage.”
“It’s not that bad.” He started to shrug out of his jacket, halted briefly to draw a slow breath and then peeled it off with a stony, stoic expression.
“You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?” She took the jacket from him and hung it on the hook behind the door. Something clanked against the wood panel, distracting her. “What is that?”
“The wrench I brought with me to fix your leaky faucet.” Methodically, he undid the buttons of his shirt.
When he got it off she was relieved to see that things did not look too bad. “Can you take a deep breath?”
He tried it cautiously, feeling his ribs with his fingers. “Yeah. No sharp pain. Relax, Leonora, I’m okay. Just a little bruised.”
She moistened a ball of cotton with alcohol and went to work on his scraped cheek.
“All right,” she said, “let’s have it. What exactly happened out there?”
“Some kid high on dope tried to brain me with a golf club and throw me into the cove. He missed. That’s the end of the story, as far as Ed Stovall is concerned.”
For an instant she didn’t think she had heard him correctly. She lifted the cotton ball away from his cheek.
“What?” She had a hard time getting the word out. Her tongue felt thick. “The kid tried to kill you?”
“They think he was on that S and M stuff we’ve been hearing about. He’s still seeing monsters in the E.R. Apparently he thought I was one.”
The floor of the bathroom fell away beneath her feet, leaving her hanging, weightless, in midair in some other universe. The world on the other side of the mirror, she thought.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she whispered.
“I’m sure as hell not in what you might call a jocular mood.”
She took a grip on her plummeting stomach and moved back to get a better look at him. “He used a golf club?”
“Ed said the kid’s on the Eubanks team. Ouch.”
“Sorry.” She applied the cotton ball a little less forcefully. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking about that bag of golf clubs we saw in Alex Rhodes’s back room.”
“I knew it. Did you mention the clubs to Ed Stovall?”
“No point. He’s satisfied with his version of events and it’s not like I’ve got any evidence to contradict him. My only hope is that when the kid comes off his drug trip he’ll be able to tell Ed where he got the crap that made him see monsters. But I’m not holding my breath. The E.R. folks said he might not remember anything about the experience. They said that judging from the few cases they’ve handled, the drug is very unpredictable and that goes double when it’s mixed with alcohol.”
“Oh, my God, Thomas. Do you think Alex got the boy high and deliberately sent him out to murder you?”
“Maybe not. Maybe he just wanted to send a warning.” Thomas gingerly touched his right shoulder with his left hand. “Make it clear that it would be best if I stayed out of his private business.”
She turned away to drop the bloody cotton ball in the trash. “How could he possibly know?”
“About our interest in him? Julie Bromley. Wouldn’t be surprised if he found out about our little chat with her this morning. Probably made him nervous.”
She stared at him in the mirror, unable to look away. “You have to talk to Ed Stovall.”
“I wish like hell it was that easy. Trust me, at this point it would be a complete waste of time.”
“Maybe if I went with you to talk to him?”
“No offense, but that won’t help.” Thomas’s mouth twisted grimly. “He’ll assume you’re backing me up because you’re sleeping with me.”
She cleared her throat. “I see. He’ll think that I’m blinded by passion, is that it?”
Thomas started to get to his feet. “Ed will look for any excuse to dismiss my story, because he’ll figure I’m still working on a conspiracy theory with Deke.”
“Sit still.” She picked up the tube of antibiotic ointment. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”
When she had done what she could for his bruises, she steered him into the kitchen. Some of the feral quality had finally faded from his eyes but he still looked much too dangerous.
She sat him down at the table and gave him some of the over-the-counter anti-inflammatory tablets she kept handy for occasional stress headaches.
She poured a glass of milk and put it down in front of him to accompany the painkillers.
He looked at the milk. “Got whiskey?”
She smiled slightly. “No. Sorry.”
“How about that cognac you served with the apple pie?”
“Right.” She opened a cupboard, took down the bottle and poured a hefty measure into a glass.
He took it from her. “Thanks.”
She watched him down the tablets and half the contents of the glass in a single swallow.
“Thomas, what on earth are we going to do?”
“Don’t know yet. I need to do some thinking.”
“What about Alex Rhodes?”
Thomas contemplated that for a long moment.
“He’ll probably assume that I suspect he was the one behind the assault tonight, but he’ll also know there’s not much I can do about it. He’s well aware of the local situation. He knows that everyone, including the chief of police, thinks that Deke is obsessed with his murder conspiracy, and that any move I make will be viewed as aiding and abetting my brother’s delusions.”
“We can’t just ignore the fact that he may have tried to have you killed tonight.”
“I think it might pay to let him worry for a while,” Thomas said. “He’s bound to be sweating a little by now, wondering what move I’ll make. Wouldn’t hurt if he gets a bit nervous. Nervous people make mistakes. Meanwhile, we’ll have our chat with Margaret Lewis tomorrow and see what comes of that. We need a strategy.”
“Strategy?”
“A plan, you know? I’d really like to have one of those. I always feel better when I’m working from a blueprint.”
She frowned. “Thomas, I don’t think—”
“Mind if I spend the night here?”
Not long ago she had been half-wishing that she had invited him to sleep in her bed tonight, thinking of all the reasons why that would not have been a good idea. Now the very direct question left her flustered.
“That’s real smooth, Walker,” she said. “Whatever happened to subtlety and romance?”
“I’m not feeling subtle or romantic right at the moment. If you don’t want me to sleep here, we can go back to my place.”
His businesslike tone gave her pause.
She cl
eared her throat. “I get the impression that this request to spend the night is not about finding a convenient venue for hot, sizzling sex. Why am I being asked to make this choice?”
He looked at her. “If I’m right in concluding that Rhodes tried to scare me off or maybe even get rid of me tonight, we have to assume that he had his reasons.”
“So?”
“He’s got to know by now that you and I are both involved in this thing. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that if Rhodes thinks I’m a threat, he probably figures you for one, too.”
“A threat.” She breathed out slowly. “I do believe I see where you’re going with this.”
“We have to assume that if he has reasons for wanting me out of the way, he probably isn’t feeling real charitable toward you, either.”
“In spite of the view of my derriere he got that day in the supermarket?”
“Your derriere is incomparable, but I’m not sure that we can count on its wonders, splendid as they are, to stop Rhodes from doing something unpleasant.” Thomas paused. “Guy like Rhodes isn’t capable of fully appreciating your derriere, you see.”
“Just one disillusionment after another. But I take your point. We should probably stick together for a while. Watch each other’s backs.”
“Be a good idea.”
“You can stay here tonight.”
“Thanks. Sorry about the lack of subtlety and romance.”
She lounged back against the counter. “They say that a good relationship should be founded on something more substantial than subtlety and romance because those qualities never last long.”
“I’ve heard that,” Thomas said.
“Lucky for us we’ve got something more solid and substantial than subtlety and romance to work with here.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Your tools.”
When she came out of the bathroom in her robe she discovered that he had already eased himself into the large bed. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to her that he took up most of the available space. He leaned back against the pale sheets, his hands linked behind his head, and watched her turn out the light.
“Meant to correct a mistaken impression you had earlier,” he said when she slipped in beside him.
She touched his chest lightly, wondering how much he hurt and where. “What mistaken impression was that?”
“When I asked you if I could spend the night here?”
“Umm hmm?”
“That request was, indeed, based primarily on my concerns for your safety. But there was an ulterior motive, as well.”
“And that ulterior motive would be?”
“I was also seeking a convenient venue for hot, sizzling sex.”
“Really? In that case, it’s certainly a pity that you got all beat up tonight.”
“I don’t think that will be too much of a problem. Just promise me you’ll be gentle.”
The hot, sizzling , very gentle sex, the anti-inflammatories and the knowledge that Leonora was in the same bed combined to put him to sleep for a while.
Unfortunately, he dreamed.
. . . He stood at the sink in Leonora’s bathroom, trying to shave. But it was hard to see what he was doing because the mirror was covered in steam.
He picked up a towel and wiped the mist off the reflective surface.
He could see a face in the glass now, but it wasn’t his own. Alex Rhodes looked out at him, malevolent golden eyes gleaming with dark, taunting amusement.
Chapter Fifteen
Shaving the next morning, even without having to look at Rhodes’s phony yellow eyes in the bathroom mirror, turned out not to be an option. He did not have his razor.
Thomas turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and leaned over the white porcelain sink. He examined the dark stubble on his jaw in the steam-clouded mirror. Not a pretty sight.
But there wasn’t a lot he could do about it, he thought. Leonora probably wouldn’t appreciate him borrowing her little pink plastic disposable razor. It was just one more thing to jot down on the list of vital necessities that he intended to pick up at his place sometime today. The list was growing longer by the moment. It now included, in order of importance, condoms, toothbrush, razor, fresh shirt, underwear and a pair of socks.
Damn. It would take a small duffel bag to hold it all.
And then there was the matter of Wrench.
He had a vision of himself packing a bag every evening and setting out with Wrench to make the trek to Leonora’s house. A pain in the ass. Be a hell of a lot more convenient if Leonora moved in with him. But he had a hunch she might not go for that pragmatic plan. It meant that she would be the one who had to pack up every night and women always seemed to have more stuff.
Might not be a good idea for him to get too accustomed to having her around the house, anyway. She would probably head back to her own world the minute her adventures here in Wonderland were concluded.
Great. Now he was actively working to make himself depressed.
He viewed his reflection. No getting around the fact that he looked like a train wreck. There was a lot of ugly purpling on his ribs. The beard stubble didn’t hide the crust that had formed over the scrape on his cheek. The area under his left eye was badly discolored and would probably get worse as the day wore on. His hands, especially the knuckles, were pretty roughed up, too.
He turned away from the mirror, picked up his shirt and winced when he caught a whiff. Not real fresh. He had done some serious sweating in it last night during the scuffle on the footbridge. Maybe better to go without this morning.
He finished toweling himself dry, pulled on his trousers and ran his fingers through his hair. Satisfied that was the best he could do under the circumstances, he opened the door and went out into the hall. He needed coffee and some more anti-inflammatories. Food would be nice after that. He was hungry. Hot, sizzling sex with Leonora seemed to have that effect on him.
The sound of a man’s voice emanating from the direction of the kitchen made him forget about both the caffeine and the painkillers.
“This is insanity, Leo. You must be delusional if you’ve managed to convince yourself that Meredith was murdered and that you can find the killer. You need serious psychiatric help.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think my HMO would cover it,” Leonora said mildly. “Would you like some coffee?”
Thomas crossed the living room in a few long strides and halted in the kitchen doorway. He took in the scene in one swift glance.
Leonora was at the counter, pouring coffee for her guest. She had made a pot of tea for herself.
He couldn’t help but notice that, unlike him, she looked terrific this morning. She was dressed in easy-fitting black trousers, a long, scarlet sweater and a pair of fluffy slippers. Her hair was clipped back in the familiar French twist.
An intense-looking man with curly brown hair and sharp features occupied one of the two chairs at the table. He wore an unpressed blue oxford cloth shirt, a pair of khaki trousers and loafers. A well-worn corduroy jacket with suede elbow patches was draped over the back of the chair.
An expensive leather book bag that looked a lot like a purse, but was probably intended to serve as a briefcase, stood against the wall next to him.
The guy might as well have worn a sign on his forehead with the words I’m going for tenure stenciled on it, Thomas decided.
Leonora looked toward the door. “There you are, Thomas.” She gave him a quick visual examination, her eyes clouding with concern. “How do you feel?”
“I’ll live, thanks.”
She did not appear entirely convinced, but she did not argue the point. “Meet a, uh, former colleague. Kyle Delling. You may have heard me mention his name once or twice.”
The ex-fiancé. Just what he needed. Another man in the vicinity who had also gotten tangled up with Meredith. He wondered if Leonora was looking at the two of them here in her kitchen and mentally filing
them both under the same subject heading: Meredith’s discards.
Kyle stared at him, nonplussed. Maybe it was the shock of seeing a strange man coming out of his ex-fiancée’s bathroom without a shirt, Thomas thought. It struck him that if he was Leonora’s ex-anything, he’d have a real tough time in Kyle’s place. The thought of her with another man now, after what they’d shared these past few days, would be very difficult to handle.
That realization hit him harder than any of the punches he had taken from Brett Conway last night. Leonora did not fit into the same category as the other women he had known during the years since his divorce. He was not going to be able to stay in the safe zone this time. When this was over he was going to go down hard.
Oh, man, this was serious.
Kyle’s mouth opened. The small action broke into Thomas’s morbid thoughts. He wondered if the professor was going to take a swing at him. He hoped so. Be nice to have an excuse to work off some of this new stress. Nothing like a little exercise to elevate a man’s mood.
Belatedly he recalled that Leonora had said that her ex was a very modern kind of guy. So maybe Kyle wasn’t staring at him with that weird expression because he was jealous. Maybe it was the bruised ribs, black eye and scraped knuckles that were failing to make a great first impression.
Kyle finally managed to get his jaw back in place. “Who the hell are you?”
Leonora blew on her tea and answered for him.
“This is Thomas Walker. He’s a friend.” She put a little extra emphasis on the last word.
Thomas nodded once. “Delling.” Who said he couldn’t be a modern guy?
Kyle appeared deeply troubled by the fact that Thomas had proven himself capable of human speech.
Thomas spotted the little bottle on the counter. He left the doorway and went to help himself to the tablets.
“Probably shouldn’t take those on an empty stomach,” Leonora warned.
She put down her tea, plucked a slice of toast out of the toaster and buttered it with quick, economical motions. When it was ready she handed it to him.
Smoke in Mirrors Page 21