“In April,” I said. Jennifer was looking into her coffee cup. She was still self-conscious sometimes when people talked about the baby. She’d told me she felt like everyone at church was looking at her stomach to see if the baby showed yet.
“Are you thinking of buying a new car?” Peter asked.
“Well, Jennifer’s Escort is pretty old. I was thinking I might get her something newer.”
She looked at me in surprise.
“Well, come around when you’re ready to look,” he said.
“We’ll do that. So how are the boys doing?”
“Good. Good. They’re at their grandmother’s today.” He shot a glance at Abby. “I’ll go get them tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll bet they miss their mother,” I said.
“Well, yes, we all do.”
“Let me give you some cookies to take home,” said Abby. I wondered if she was trying to get rid of him, or if he thought she was. Maybe she pitied the cookieless boys. Every kid should get fresh, homemade cookies once in a while.
Jennifer said, “Harvey, is the patio door shut tight? I don’t want the rain leaking in.”
I went to look at it, and she followed me.
“What is going on?” she hissed.
“I think he’s wife hunting.”
“How long has he been widowed?”
“Three or four years, I guess. She had cancer.”
“I know. I just feel like we’re being overrun by suitors here.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I checked the patio door, and it was fine. “Should we invite Peter and the boys over sometime?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to embarrass Abby.”
We went back to the kitchen. Abby was bagging oatmeal cookies, and Peter was leaning on the counter, watching.
“We’re going with the Nelsons,” Peter was saying. “Do you know them?”
“I’ve met them,” said Abby. “Didn’t Mr. Nelson sing at Jennifer and Harvey’s wedding?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Peter’s smile wasn’t half bad, I supposed. Abby seemed to like it. “They home school. They’ve got kids about the ages of my boys. Rob asked me if we wanted to go with them, and I thought it would be good. If you’re interested…”
I pulled Jennifer back into the sunroom. “Let her sort it out. She said no to Charlie. She can say no to Peter if she doesn’t want to do whatever it is they’re doing.”
“Poor Peter.” She put her arms around my waist, and I hugged her.
A minute later, Peter appeared in the doorway.
“There you are. I’m heading out. Thanks, Harvey.”
I stepped forward and walked with him to the entry. He was carrying the bag of cookies. He wasn’t bad looking, thirtyish and tall. He had a careworn air around the eyes, I thought, and he seemed a little tired now that he was out of Abby’s sight.
“We’re going to the circus at the Civic Center next week,” he said. “Abigail and me and the boys. With the Nelsons.”
“Terrific,” I said. “On Saturday?”
“Yes. The six o’clock show. She has to work that night, I guess.”
“Yeah, she’s trying to get a different shift.”
His brown eyes flickered with a little anxiety. “I didn’t think she’d go.”
I smiled. “You never know with Abby.”
“Does she—have a lot of fellows hanging around?”
“Some.”
“Your partner, Eddie—”
“He’s one.”
Peter nodded.
“Nerve-racking, isn’t it?” I asked with a smile. “When I met Jennifer, I was a nervous wreck every time I asked her out. First you have to get up the courage to ask, then you have to sweat it out until she answers.”
“Seemed like a million years,” he agreed.
“Why don’t you and the boys eat supper here that night, before you go?”
“Oh, we shouldn’t. Your wife has been sick.” Everyone at church knew, because Jennifer’s name had been on the prayer list for a couple of weeks. I made a mental note to ask the pastor to take it off.
“She’s fine now,” I said.
“I haven’t gone out much since…”
“You should. It will be fine.”
Peter nodded. “Thanks.” He went out into the drizzle.
I went back in, and Jennifer handed me the telephone receiver in the kitchen. It was Emily Rood.
“We caught him, Captain! You know, the computer guy.” Her voice was charged with elation.
“Fantastic. Is he in the system?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s been arrested before.”
“What charge?”
“Molesting his girlfriend’s daughter.”
“You just did a really good thing, Emily.”
“Thanks, Captain. I asked Sergeant Legere if I can spend some time at this detail, and he thinks it’s a worthy project.”
“That’s great. I’m proud of you for making the collar.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It feels good.”
“I’ll bet it does. I wish we had a dozen people going after these guys, because there are a lot of them out there.”
When I hung up, Jennifer was standing by the sink watching Abby peel potatoes. She asked Abby, “What made you say yes to Peter?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The circus, Jennifer. Don’t you love to go to the circus?”
“We never had many chances,” she said.
“You want to go to the circus?” I asked. “I’ll take you.” I might never get another chance. Circuses had been hit hard by animal rights protests, and the one coming to the city was smaller than the old Ringling Brothers, but it should still be exciting.
“Super.” Jenny gave me a distracted smile. “But why Peter and not Charlie? I’m just curious.”
Abby sighed and put the vegetable peeler down. “Maybe it was the droopy eyes, or the motherless boys, I don’t know.”
There it was, the Wendy Darling Syndrome. I said, “Maybe it was just the tigers.”
Abby smiled and looked at Jennifer. “Why did you say yes to Harvey the first time?”
This I wanted to hear.
Jennifer looked out the window at the back yard, where the rain was soaking the rose bushes. “I think it was his eyes,” she said soberly. “That, and he seemed sort of nervous, as though he thought I was really something and he was holding his breath.”
I put my arms around her from behind, and she put her hands over mine at her waist and leaned back against my chest.
I said, “I was scared you’d say no every time I asked you, right up until you said you’d marry me.”
“The super hero with a tender heart,” Abby said dispassionately. She took a saucepan to the sink and filled it with water.
“That’s my guy,” said Jenny, and her right hand came up to my cheek.
*****
Greg walked into the church and headed our way as Sunday school ended. When Eddie and Abby came from their class, Eddie shook hands with him, and Abby sat down between them. Peter, pulling his boys into his pew across the aisle, looked fretfully toward Abby.
“Is this a comedy or a tragedy?” Jennifer whispered.
I shrugged. “As far as I know, Peter’s the only one with a date confirmed for next weekend.”
“So far.”
Jeff was on duty, and Beth came to sit with Jennifer. She seemed very happy, and I wondered how many times she’d seen Jeff that week.
Lunch at our house was interesting. Jennifer had invited all the Bradleys, which included Beth, Rick and Ruthann, and their two kids. Eddie came along on principle. Jennifer had told him that he had a standing invitation at our house, and it seemed no church families with single daughters had invited him that day.
We also invited Greg, plus Pastor and Mary Rowland. The rain had abated overnight, and I cooked hamburgers on the back patio. Jennifer was a great, if casual, hostess. Lots of food, lots of laughter, lots of friends. It was too damp
and chilly outside to use the picnic table, so I sat in the sunroom with the Rowlands, Rick, Ruthann and their kids. Jennifer stayed in the kitchen with Beth, Eddie, Abby, and Greg.
“How’s Abby doing?” I asked, when Jennifer brought in a pitcher of iced tea.
“It’s a juggling act.”
At dessert time, everybody came in the sunroom and ate cheesecake together.
“Jennifer, I can’t believe you’re eating so well now,” said Ruthann.
“She’s just a little pig,” Abby said. “Has to make up for everything she didn’t eat before.” Abby looked tired, and I wondered if she was going to go to work that night without any sleep.
I caught her gaze. “I think both the Wainthrop sisters need naps.”
“I know the Bradley children do,” said Ruthann. She and Rick started looking for two-year-old Clarissa’s shoes.
By two o’clock, everyone had cleared out except Eddie and Greg. Abby was yawning. I sent Jennifer off to bed.
“I guess I should go,” Greg said regretfully, looking at Abby. I didn’t think he’d managed a second alone with her.
“You don’t have to,” I said.
“I really should sleep, or I’ll never make it through work tonight,” Abby said apologetically.
“Come back tonight,” I told Greg.
“Sure,” said Abby. “Come back after church. I’ll have a couple of hours then when we can visit.” She finally drifted off upstairs.
“Coffee?” I asked the men.
Greg said, “Am I outstaying my welcome?”
“Not at all, we just have certain sleep-deprived people here.”
Eddie stayed, too. I wasn’t quite sure why. He didn’t seem to resent Greg. The two of them talked cheerfully about the airline and our computer work.
Greg pulled out around four. He said he wanted to see the waterfront and would eat out somewhere.
“I like him,” Eddie said.
“That’s good.” I nodded slowly. “I do, too. We might see a lot more of Greg.”
“I figured. Guess I don’t need to come back after church tonight.”
“Eddie, Abby hasn’t made up her mind. She’s going out with Peter Hobart Saturday.”
Eddie’s dark eyes widened. “He’s married.”
“Widowed. His wife had cancer.”
“I didn’t know that.” He pulled out his truck keys. “Well, I guess Abby will always have all the dates she wants. She’s just that kind of woman.”
“What kind of woman?”
“You know, pretty, nice, smart. Like Jennifer.”
I laughed. “She’s nothing like Jennifer. Well, I shouldn’t say nothing like her. But Jennifer never had many dates.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, I think she was too reserved.” We walked out to the driveway.
“Abby’s not reserved,” Eddie said.
“Nope. She’s not overbearing, either, but she’s certainly not reserved. In some ways, she’s like you—mostly good ways.”
He smiled wryly. “I’m glad you got Jennifer, Harv. She was what you needed.”
He climbed into his truck, and I wondered what Eddie needed.
Chapter 15
Monday, October 18
Mike advertised the deputy chief’s position again and had candidates coming in from as far away as Connecticut. He decided that when Terry left in two weeks, he would put Brad Lyons, the night patrol sergeant, on the front desk during the day, and he was training Cheryl Yeaton to take over as night sergeant.
“I thought she was hoping to make detective,” I said.
“Not many detective spots opening up,” Mike told me. “Just Arnie’s, and I figured you’ve picked somebody else.”
“Not yet.”
“You want Cheryl? Because we can sit down with her and thrash it out if you do. I talked to her about this sergeant thing, and she’s willing, but she might change her mind if she’s got a chance to join your unit. The thing is, I don’t want to pass over her for sergeant and then have you decide you want someone else.”
“Okay.” My mind was racing. I didn’t want to be unfair to Cheryl or anyone else. “I’m really not sure. Better put her in Brad’s position.”
“All right. We’ll be getting a new batch of recruits in January. I want her to be confident at what she’s doing by then.”
I needed to think harder about the vacancy. I had only about six weeks left with Arnie on board. As usual when faced with a major change, my stomach acted up and I found myself skipping meals when Jennifer wasn’t looking. Why couldn’t things ever stay the same for more than five minutes?
*****
At nine o’clock Thursday evening, Jennifer and I were preparing to go to the art exhibit.
“Pretty late, isn’t it?” asked Abby.
“No, it goes until midnight,” I said. “That’s the way people who don’t have to work live, I guess.”
I put on my good suit. It was Abby’s night off, and she was looking forward to sleeping when it was dark. Jennifer called to her, and she came to the bedroom to arrange Jenny’s hair for her.
“I don’t know if we’re any closer to cracking this art case,” I said, working on the cufflinks I rarely wore—silver ones my sister Gina gave me when I graduated from Harvard. That was a million years ago.
“I hate to say it, but you may need another crime to give you some more evidence,” Abby said.
Jennifer turned around on the dressing table stool and looked at me. “Are you any closer to finding a deputy chief?”
“They interviewed a guy from Rhode Island today. I liked him, but the city council didn’t. Too much of a maverick, I guess.”
“Style similar to yours?” Abby asked with a teasing smile.
“Maybe. But Mike needs someone steady who can be chief in a couple of years.”
“Mike’s still planning to retire?” Jennifer shook her head.
“He and Sharon both say yes. It will be an official day of mourning at the PD.”
Abby put Jennifer’s luxuriant hair in little braids, up on her head, the way she’d had it for the formal wedding pictures. She wore the green silk dress I loved. It took me back to our courtship days, when she’d bought it for a big night out with me. Me! It had a little mandarin collar, and the buttons were strips of the silk twisted into fancy knots.
I smiled at her. “Everyone will stare at you at the gallery.”
“You ought to wear more makeup,” Abby said fretfully. “It would make you look more glamorous.”
“She doesn’t need it,” I said. Jennifer wore a little lip gloss, but her lashes were a mile long without mascara, and her complexion never needed help. Her cheekbones were pronounced, and excitement over the task ahead had brought color to her cheeks.
I glanced at the clock. “We’d better get going. It’s nine-forty-five, and we don’t want to walk into the gallery at the last minute.” We’d both boned up on Redwall’s style and were primed to talk to art lovers. Jennifer picked up a white sweater, and we excused ourselves and went out to her car in the garage.
As I opened her door for her, I said, “You look so incredible in that dress.”
“Well, take a good look, because I probably won’t be able to wear it again for a while.”
So I took a good look. Her tummy was still flat, but I could see that when the baby started getting bigger, that fitted dress wouldn’t do at all. I kissed her, letting my hands glide over the green silk.
“I should take you to fancy parties more often,” I whispered in her ear.
“No, it’s fun once in a while, but being at home with you is better.”
She always said the right thing.
At the door to the Alexi Gallery, I extended the invitation I’d managed to get from the gallery owner. When he’d gathered I had money, he took me for a potential patron and hadn’t bothered to ask how I made my living.
The gallery was full of people. Most of the men wore suits or sport jackets. The
women displayed a wide range of fashions, from flowing pants to provocative evening gowns. Most of their faces dripped eye shadow and lipstick. I wished I had stock in Maybelline. The hairstyles were even worse, from a near crewcut on one woman to myriad cornrows on another. Jennifer stood out as naturally beautiful, and several heads turned as we walked past.
Everyone held a wine glass.
“I wonder if they have anything else to drink,” Jenny whispered.
A waiter stopped in front of us with a tray of filled glasses.
“Do you have anything nonalcoholic?” I asked. “My wife’s expecting.”
Sure enough, his eyes dropped to Jennifer’s stomach, and she blushed.
“How about club soda?”
“Make it two,” I said. He scurried away, and I smiled at Jennifer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
We looked at the Redwalls. “We saw a picture of that one.” Jennifer gazed at a large canvas portraying a beach with lifelike sea grass in the foreground and sand awash with purple water beyond it. The waiter brought us two wine glasses full of club soda.
“Didn’t I see you at the Visual Arts Society?” We turned to meet a middle-aged woman, escorted by a younger man. At the art club, she’d worn pants and a nondescript blouse. Tonight she had on a flame-red dress with a plunging neckline, definitely designed for a younger figure.
“Yes,” Jennifer said brightly. “You paint watercolors.”
“How flattering that you remember! I’m Lucille, and this is my friend, Eric.”
Eric nodded, and looked Jennifer up and down.
I extended my hand to him. “I’m Harvey. This is my wife, Jennifer.”
He didn’t take the hint and kept staring.
“Where did you get the white wine?” Lucille asked.
Jennifer smiled a little and said apologetically, “It’s club soda.”
“Oh, on the wagon?”
“Uh, yes.”
Lucille said, “I probably drink too much. But it seems to help my painting.”
“Do you think these paintings are a good investment?” I asked.
“Oh, my, yes. Redwall is very much in demand now. Prices are going up as we speak.”
Eric nodded. “He’s a good investment. He’s prolific, and affordable now, but definitely on the way up.”
Found Art (Maine Justice Book 3) Page 17