The Reunion

by Suzanne Rossi

Meghan told him her theory about Dan Masterson as the killer.

  Ray drank more coffee and raised an eyebrow. “It’s an interesting theory, but that’s all it is. I can’t put him and Mrs. Peterson at the pond at the same time. I do, however, want to have another chat with Mr. Coryell, as soon as I find him.”

  Zach’s eyebrows rose. “He’s missing?”

  “I wouldn’t call him missing, just not around. I knocked on his door and got no answer. Of course, if he was as drunk as Mrs. Crocker says, he may have passed out. In which case, I could have used a battering ram and he wouldn’t have heard me.” Ray finished his coffee.

  “Did you check Suzanne’s room?” Zach said.

  “He wouldn’t be with her,” Meghan declared. “Suzanne was furious with him most of the night. I don’t think she’d reward his actions with an invite to her room.”

  “She didn’t have a whole lot nice to say about him when I talked with her earlier,” Ray confirmed. “Besides, I think I saw her in the lobby not too long ago.”

  Ray’s cell phone rang. He jerked it from its holder on his belt and answered with a crisp, “Armstrong.”

  Meghan fingered her soda can and tipped the remainder of the lukewarm contents down her throat.

  The sheriff listened for several seconds before saying, “Is the forensics truck still here? Bag it and get Joey to print it asap. I doubt we’ll find anything other than the waiter’s prints, but it’s worth a try. Let me know what you find out.” He snapped the phone shut.

  “More evidence?” Zach asked.

  Ray nodded, and swiped a hand through his hair. “Yeah, a waiter bringing down a room service cart made too sharp a turn out of the service elevator and overturned a trash receptacle. Guess what fell out?”

  “What?” Meghan held her breath in anticipation.

  “A stun gun.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Meghan rested her forehead on her hands and moaned. “Oh, God, this is our fault. The killer heard about the stun gun and ditched it.”

  “I’m sorry, Ray. We screwed up,” Zach admitted.

  The sheriff ran his hand through his hair. “Not all your fault. Like I said, I should have told you not to say anything. Puts a crimp in my plans. Even the waiter knew about its importance. Unfortunately, he handled it. The stun gun’s being checked now, but my guess is his will be the only prints we find.”

  “Ah, nuts,” Meghan said with another moan. “I write mysteries for crying out loud. I should have known better.”

  Zach clasped her hand, squeezing gently. “You’re a writer. I’m a software exec, which means we’re not professional criminologists. Nothing we can do about it now.” He turned back to Ray. “It’s getting late. Are you still interviewing?”

  “The deputies are finishing up as we speak. Most people have been remarkably patient, considering the chance of actually finding someone who saw something is slim.”

  “Ray, do you mind if I have a look at the stun gun? I’ve never seen one before. It might be something I could use in one of my books.”

  “I have no objection, but you’ll have to wait until after it’s been printed.”

  “No need to wait. I’ve got one in my room,” Zach told her.

  “You have a stun gun?” Ray asked with raised eyebrows.

  He shrugged. “I prefer it to the .38 Smith and Wesson revolver in my suitcase. Only use deadly force as a last resort.”

  Meghan stared as a sudden breeze from the air conditioning vent sent a chill racing along her skin. She shivered, rubbing her arms.

  “But you flew here. How did you get them past airport security?”

  “I used the corporate jet.” He rose. “Let me go get it. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  Meghan bit her lip as he left the room. Zach had come to the reunion armed? Why?

  “You must lead an interesting life,” Ray said bringing her attention back. “I heard you’ve been on a book signing tour. What do you do? Besides, travel and sign books, of course.”

  Meghan laughed. “That’s about it. People think it’s so glamorous going to different cities and spending an hour or two inside a bookstore, then lounging by the pool the rest of the day. Doesn’t happen. If I’m not signing my name over and over, I’m holed up in hotel rooms writing. I live and work out of North Carolina, but the last three or four months have been crazy. I’ve been all over the country. At least I got to see my folks this time.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “Dallas. Dad retired three years ago. He plays golf every day and lies about his score, while Mom indulges her passion for bridge. I was there in early June, and swear both of them look younger than ever. Hope it’s a family trait.”

  “Do you ever forget which city you’re in?” Ray wondered.

  “Believe it or not, that did happen. I was on a tight schedule, and whipped from Seattle to San Diego in less than two weeks in late April. I signed a book for a lady in Fresno and commented on how much I enjoyed being in Sacramento. Major embarrassment.” She leaned forward. “Don’t tell anybody, but sometimes I have to stop and think if it’s Monday or Tuesday.”

  Ray grinned. “I can imagine.”

  Zach returned and handed her the stun gun. Small and compact, it fit easily in her hand. An on/off switch on the side was millimeters from her thumb. She slid it upwards and a tiny green light glowed.

  “I take it this is the business end of things,” she said indicating a red button above the switch. Without waiting for an answer, she pressed it. The resulting arc of electricity sizzled, startling her.

  The few people remaining in the bar stared.

  She dropped the device on the table. “Holy shit! I wasn’t expecting that. Sounds like it can do major damage.”

  “It has a lot of voltage, but unless you hold the button down for a long time or zap someone repeatedly, it merely incapacitates.”

  “Why do you feel it necessary to bring a stun gun and a .38 to a high school reunion?” The sheriff echoed Meghan’s thoughts of earlier.

  Zach resumed his seat. “About three or four years ago, I had to fire a guy. He sent me threatening letters and e-mails. Also harassed me with voicemail. Then one night while driving home from the office, a car rear-ended me and drove off. The police eventually arrested the guy, but I decided personal protection was the route to go.”

  “I assume you have a license and know how to use the Smith and Wesson.”

  “Of course, I do.”

  Ray smiled. “Just checking. Meghan and I were talking about family and such. What about you, Zach? Do your parents still live in Grandview?”

  He shook his head. “Mom and Dad moved to St. Louis shortly after I graduated from high school. Dad was an engineer with a large chemical company until retiring last year. They loved the area, but can’t take the winters any more. Southern California is home now. That’s one reason why I bought out a small software company in Los Angeles. It gives me an excuse to drop in and check on them every few months. Neither of them is in the best of health.”

  “I’ve talked to so many people tonight, I can’t remember where you hang your hat,” Ray commented.

  “Phoenix.”

  “House or condo?” Meghan inquired.

  “House. I don’t like rules, or people with nothing better to do except sit on condo boards telling me what I can and can’t do. On the other hand, for my parents, a condo was the only answer. I helped them set up housekeeping in Brentwood last spring.”

  Ray’s phone rang. “Armstrong.” He listened for a few seconds, and then said, “Okay, thanks, I’m on my way.” He snapped the phone shut. “The last person just left the ballroom. I’d better go see if I can locate Coryell.” He slapped his hat on his head and left.

  “It sounds as if you and I were in the same parts of the country at the same time,” Meghan remarked.

  “Too bad we didn’t know. We could have met for dinner or something.” He gazed toward the bar. “I’m thirsty. Would you like a bottl
e of water?”

  “Thank you, yes.”

  Zach returned with two and unscrewed the top of one before handing it to her. “What do you think of all this? Is it fodder for a new book?”

  “Maybe. What I’d really like to do is take some time off. No writing, no tours, no nothing. I’d love to go someplace warm for the winter and just vegetate.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “It’s called a contract. I owe my publisher two more books, and she’s demanding the next one in six months. Until tonight, I didn’t have any ideas regarding plots.”

  “Sounds like you might be suffering burnout.”

  “That’s what I told my agent, Beth. She said to keep writing.”

  Actually, Beth had told her to find a man and have a little fun, but Meghan didn’t think Zach needed to know that. Besides, Beth could be right. She pigeonholed the thought of a naked Zach into a corner of her mind.

  “Not very sympathetic.”

  Meghan tilted the bottle to her lips and drank. “Which is why I’m seriously considering finding a new agent. What about you? Do you intend to own all of Silicon Valley?”

  Zach grimaced. “Never crossed my mind. I like my company the size it is now. Nothing further east than Dallas. I can travel to and from all of them in less than three days, and get back to Phoenix with a minimum of effort.”

  “What do you do for fun?”

  “Play video and computer games.”

  “That’s it? No sports?”

  He grinned. “I never cared for sports, but have a pool and swim laps when time allows. I also have a home gym I use on a regular basis. I hate golf, tennis, and jogging, and while I play a mean game of bridge, I hate that, too.”

  “Any weaknesses I should know about?” Meghan tilted the bottle again.

  Zach leaned forward, smiled a killer smile, and whispered, “Yes. Twice a year I go to Vegas and play Texas Hold ’em. How about you?”

  She mimicked his actions, their faces inches apart. “I pretend to be Broadway star and do high kicks to soundtracks on my iPod. My favorite is Chicago.”

  “We lead such decadent lives.” He closed the gap, giving her a brief, hard kiss, and then extended his hand palm up.

  Meghan’s lips tingled and heat suffused her body. She had the most incredible urge to say screw it, pull him down on the table and rip his clothes off. Instead, she slipped her hand into his. If they had left the terrace two minutes earlier, they’d have never had to deal with Eileen or any of this. They’d have been upstairs in her room tangled in the sheets.

  He’s fabulous. Why couldn’t I have found him years ago?

  Zach rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand sending a zing of electricity up her arm.

  She inhaled a deep breath to clear her head of erotic fantasies. “Okay, so you don’t want to own all of Silicon Valley. You’re happy with your little slice of the American dream. What do you see yourself doing at, say our fortieth reunion?”

  “Lord, I have no idea. I’ll be fifty-eight years old and probably retired.”

  “Retired? At fifty-eight? What would you do to keep busy? Swap fishing stories with your buddies?”

  He grinned. “I don’t like drowning worms either. To be honest, I doubt if I’ll ever retire. That’s the beauty of technology. It’s always advancing, changing. Something new comes along every day. What about you? Will you be writing on your deathbed?”

  Meghan drank from her water bottle before answering. The heat within hadn’t subsided. His kiss had fanned the embers, and she still tasted him on her lips. Her skin burned from the touch of his hands.

  “God, I hope not, but if I am, I want it to be for my grandchildren.”

  “Don’t you have to have children before you contemplate grandchildren?”

  She leaned forward again and gazed into his eyes. “Yes. And I’d love to have oodles of them—uh, grandchildren, that is.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Maybe the right guy will come along and get you started.”

  “Maybe he will.”

  Maybe he already has.

  Meghan looked up when a figure passed the table. The real world cut off her fantasies. “Suzanne’s back.”

  Dammit. Just when things were getting interesting.

  Zach frowned and released her hands. “She shouldn’t be wandering around alone. Someone’s already taken a crack at killing her. What’s she thinking anyway?”

  Meghan sat back, a little jab of jealousy darting through her. Why was Zach so concerned about a woman who had no problem taking care of numero uno?

  ****

  What’s wrong with me? I should be holed up like a gopher, but instead I’m running around looking for Dave, and I have no idea why.

  Suzanne entered the bar and noticed Zach and Meghan, holding hands, their heads bent close together and smiles on their faces.

  Glad someone’s having a good time. Bitch. What does he see in her? Or maybe tackling a real woman scares the shit out of him.

  Being dumped by two men in one night was a first and left a bad taste in her mouth. She needed a drink.

  She sailed past their table and headed for the bar. She spied a couple of familiar faces and nodded as she slipped onto a stool. The bartender didn’t bother asking. He set a cosmopolitan in front of her. She sipped and sighed.

  Damn all men to hell, she thought. Her irritation at being unable to locate her so-called date had transformed to worry. She’d trod every square inch of this stinking hotel and come up with zilch.

  She eyed the man and woman at the table next to the bar. He was a big guy and she vaguely remembered he’d played football. Dave had pitched his investment scheme to every other teammate tonight. Why not this guy, too?

  She hated to admit, and have others realize, she’d been dumped, but finding Dave had taken on an urgency she couldn’t explain.

  Swallowing her pride, Suzanne asked, “Excuse me, but didn’t you play football with Dave Coryell?”

  “Sure did. Linebacker. Name’s Bill Rafferty. This is my wife Jane.”

  “Have you seen him tonight?”

  The man rolled his eyes and made a face. “I’ll say. He hung me up for close to twenty minutes jawing about some investment opportunity. The minute his back was turned, I disappeared.”

  “Yeah, I can understand that. He did the same to me. But I mean have you seen him lately?”

  “I saw him getting into the elevator,” the woman replied.

  “When was that?”

  “I don’t know. We had just been interviewed by the police and decided to come in here for a drink. Maybe an hour or so. Isn’t it awful what happened?”

  “Yeah, awful,” Suzanne muttered. “Was he alone?”

  “I can’t remember. There were a bunch of people in the lobby and others heading toward their rooms. I imagine someone got on the elevator with him.” The woman shook her head. “I’m really upset about Annabelle. I graduated with her and she was the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Is it true she was killed with a stun gun?”

  “A what?” She stared in consternation. A stun gun? She owned one. Charlie had bought it for her. She carried it whenever she went out at night.

  “That’s what I heard. Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “Stun guns don’t kill. They incapacitate.” Suzanne brushed a lock of hair over her shoulder. She wished she’d brought the damned thing with her.

  It might come in handy now.

  Unfortunately, it was back in Chicago. She remembered how Dave had laughed when she carried it on one of their dates a few months ago.

  “Well, I just know I won’t sleep a wink tonight.” Jane turned to Bill. “I could use another drink.”

  “I think we should go to bed.” The couple got up to leave. “Nice to see you again, Suzanne. Have a safe trip home.

  “Yeah, you, too,” she said to their backs as they walked away.

  She sat, sipping a cosmo she didn’t really want and tapped her fingernails on the counter, th
en straightened when a thought occurred to her.

  When was the last time she’d seen her stun gun? She bit her lip and tried to recall the image. She remembered carelessly tossing her purse onto the foyer table one night about two weeks ago. She and Dave had been out to dinner, and come up to her place for a nightcap. For the life of her, she couldn’t recollect if she’d put it away or even seen it since.

  A nasty thought ran through her mind.

  Could Dave have taken it?

  “But why?” she whispered. “Why would he steal my stun gun unless…”

  A chill traced down her spine like the finger of death.

  No, it’s not possible…or is it?

  She gulped the rest of her drink and gripped the edge of the bar when her head spun. Giddy, she pressed her fingers to her mouth and breathed deeply. The room stopped tilting.

  “Get a grip, Suzanne,” she muttered to herself. “If Dave wanted to bump you off, he’d have done it in Chicago, not Grandview, Indiana.”

  She wished she’d quit this silly vacillating between thinking one minute Dave was a killer, and then declaring him too much of a weenie to murder anyone.

  A quick scan of the room showed Meghan and Zach still seated at their table. Another couple sat at the end of the bar. A lone man a few stools away shot her a glance and a smile. She looked away.

  She needed to resume her search for Dave. Could he have gone into the garden? In view of the night’s events, the thought of traversing those dark paths made her skin crawl.

  Maybe we’ve just been missing each other.

  She had no clue how long she’d looked earlier. Dave had been pretty hammered, not to mention high. She’d try his room again.

  Signing her tab, she slid from the stool.

  “Suzanne,” Zach said. She paused next to the table.

  “What?”

  “Have you changed rooms yet?”

  “No.” His earlier brush-off still rankled.

  “You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself,” Meghan added. “I have the feeling this nastiness isn’t over. Please, don’t take unnecessary chances.”

  “Are you telling me to go hide in my room?” Prissy bitch.

  “No, Meghan and I are just concerned about you. Whatever the motive, Annabelle’s death was a case of mistaken identity,” Zach answered with a frown. “You were the target.”