When she reached her ex-father-in-law, she tapped him on the shoulder. "Frank?"
He spun around, with his hand over his heart. "My God, Ardin! You nearly scared the living daylights out of me."
"You did the same to me. What are you doing here?"
"Dropping off Suziette's things from the office. Brett didn't want them, but Julia did." He handed her an automatic garage opener. "She had Elvira put this in the mailbox, so I could leave the carton in the garage whenever I got the chance. I called before and you weren't in. When I opened the garage and saw your car, I figured I'd let you know."
"I was out with Brett and Leonie. She's staying there tonight."
Frank reached out to squeeze her arm. "I'm glad you decided to stay in Thornedale, after all."
"I'll be here for a while, taking care of Leonie," she said, careful not to give him any inkling of her plans.
"I understand Suziette named you as successor guardian. I had no idea the two of you were close."
Damn the man! Nothing escaped him. Did he also know what size bra she wore? "Closer than you'd guess," she said to get a rise out of him.
His look of surprise, almost of dismay, was deeply satisfying. She gave him a knowing smile. "Suziette was my first cousin. She trusted me, Frank, to look after what was dearest to her heart."
"You mean, Leonie."
"Of course." She remembered the notepad she'd just found, and decided it was an omen--no, evidence Suziette had left behind to identify her murderer.
She looked boldly into Frank's eyes. "And to make sure her murderer's punished for his crime."
"How do you intend to manage that? From what I hear, the police haven't a clue."
She heard the challenge beneath his mocking tone. Was he putting her down for playing amateur detective, or fishing for anything she might know that might implicate his son? Her intuition told her Frank would do everything in his power to protect Corey, and it filled her with anger.
"Oh, there's evidence, all right."
The sight of his gaping mouth gave her deep satisfaction. "Good night, Frank."
She left him standing there and went inside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ardin enjoyed her first good night's sleep in weeks. She awoke early on a sunny morning and decided to go for a run. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done any form of exercise, and her body cried out for a good workout. She pulled on sweats, did a few stretching exercises in the den, and hit the streets.
After starting at a gentle pace she picked up speed as she passed the well-manicured lawns of the neighborhood. The Bradford Pear trees were in bud, and forsythia and daffodils added their bright yellow offerings to the spring day.
An hour later she returned in high spirits. She showered, put on a skirt and sweater, and ate a light breakfast.
Taking Suziette's notepad from its hiding place, she flipped through it as she considered her next step. She rummaged through the drawers of Suziette's desk until she found a few sheets of paper. She copied exactly what was on each small page, and slipped the sheets between the blanket folds where the notepad had been. Now she'd deliver the original to Detective Rabe.
The police station, located at the far end of Main Street, shared a parking lot with town hall and the local court. Ardin grimaced as she approached the building. She did not look forward to an encounter with Detective Rabe. But maybe he was out detecting somewhere, and she could hand over her "evidence".
No such luck. The policeman behind the partition told her Detective Rabe was in his office. He asked a few questions before making a call. A few minutes later an officer escorted her down a narrow corridor.
Detective Rabe waved her in. "Take a seat, Ms. Wesley. Can I get you some coffee?"
When she shook her head and sat down, he said. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"I'm staying at my aunt's house." She put the notepad on his desk. "I found this in a drawer in Suziette's old room."
"Ah, playing detective, I see."
Ardin felt her face heat, but refused to rise to the bait.
"Let's see what you've brought me." He flipped through the pages. "Tally sheets of some sort."
"Records of Suziette's sex life with her high school boy friends."
He fixed his beady eyes on her. "High school? How do you know?"
His insinuating tone irked her, but she was damned if she'd show it. "The years on the cover correspond to her last three years of high school. I figured out her code. What the letters stand for."
"Thank you for dropping it off."
Nettled by his lack of interest, Ardin rose. "I'll leave it with you then. You can work the code out yourself."
She'd reached the door when Rabe called, "Ms. Wesley, wait." She ignored him and turned the knob.
She hid a smile when he sprang from his seat to stop her from leaving.
"I'd be very much obliged if you explained what you interpret to be Mrs. Waterstone's code."
"And I'd be very much obliged if you stopped playing games."
He bowed his head as though accepting her rebuke. Ardin knew it was all she'd receive in the way of an apology.
He ushered her back to her seat and sat behind his desk. "I'm all ears." His tone was considerably warmer.
Ardin explained her interpretation of Suziette's record keeping.
Rabe nodded and pointed to the first page. "Whom do these initials belong to?"
Ardin froze. Until now she'd been certain she'd gotten the code right. But what if she were wrong? What if DN didn't stand for Corey? He'd turn ugly if she sent the police after him on such flimsy evidence. And Bill Presley wouldn't appreciate becoming a suspect because of some long-ago affair with Suziette. Besides, his real name was William, she suddenly realized. Meaning CQ could very well be someone else.
He must have noted her hesitancy, because he offered a wry smile. "Are you having second thoughts about helping us? "
She inhaled sharply. "I would imagine that SU stands for Randy Tarkman. He and Suziette went together for about six months."
"And now lives in San Diego, California, with his wife and two kids."
"Oh."
"Yes, Ms. Wesley, we're checking out every angle, every possibility, every person."
"I'm glad to hear that." The police were being thorough.
"Any others?"
"I believe there's a page for my ex-husband and one for Bill Presley. I'm not sure about the others."
"Thank you. Oh, did you happen to see Mr. Waterstone yesterday morning?"
Ardin shook her head. "No, why?"
"Just checking his alibi. There's a half hour discrepancy between the time he claims he left his work site and when his workers said he left."
Ardin felt her temper rising. "So? What's that supposed to prove? You can't possibly imagine Brett pretended to burgle his own house!"
"At this point, we're not certain what we believe." He leaned across his desk. "Frankly, I wouldn't be too trusting of a man I hardly know."
Furious, Ardin stood. She never should have subjected herself to another unpleasant meeting with this man.
"One more thing, Ms. Wesley. Did your cousin ever mention whether or not she intended to press for repayment of a rather large loan?"
Startled by the question, Ardin sank back into the chair. "No. To whom did she loan money?"
"Dimitri Costas."
"Really? And he has no alibi for Thursday night."
"I see word gets around."
Offended by his implication that she was a gossip, she retorted, "You might keep that in mind, and stop accusing Brett of killing Suziette when he didn't."
He frowned. "There are many suspects in this case, Ms. Wesley, and little enough evidence. But there is something you might want to ask Lover Boy."
She winced at his choice of words, but said nothing.
"Ask him to tell you about the time he got into a fight and broke the other guy's nose."
"That happened when?"
"About ten years ago."
Ardin smiled, pretending to be amused. "Let's see. Brett would have been all of twenty-two."
"True," he conceded, "but it's something to keep in mind. After all, Ms. Wesley, you don't want to keep on choosing the wrong type of man."
She exited the office, leaving the door open in childish retaliation, but she was profoundly shaken. My God! Rabe had thoroughly investigated Brett and herself along with everyone else.
* * * *
The fresh air helped her regain her equilibrium. Ardin strode across the parking lot, dodging cars searching for a spot. She considered reporting Rabe's offensive behavior to the police chief. As though he'd care how she felt. He was a man, for God's sake, and no doubt would back his detective to the hilt.
She got into her car and slammed the door shut. Rabe could keep right on detecting, but she wouldn't help him again. Not even if she found a crucial clue. She'd sooner track the murderer herself than go through another humiliating session with him.
She was about to drive off, when someone knocked on the passenger window. Bill Presley, wearing a navy three-piece-suit and toting a bulging attaché case, grinned at her.
Ardin smiled back as she opened the window. She still wasn't used to seeing old "stork legs" dressed as a lawyer. She had too many memories of Bill in basketball silks, racing about the court and scoring the points that had won him a scholarship to college. He still had the same goofy smile, but his dark hair was thinning at the crown. His wonderful sense of humor and keen intelligence were as glowing as his wife's spectacular looks.
"Hey! I was beginning to wonder if you lost your hearing, or just weren't talking to me."
"Neither. I've just been to see Rabe."
"Ah." He nodded in commiseration. "An interrogation by our own Inspector Javert."
She grimaced. "I brought him some information, and he thanked me by casting innuendoes and maligning a friend."
"He's a believer in the old scattershot method--shoot at everyone involved in the case, and you're bound to hit the guilty party sooner or later."
"You mean like Dimitri Costas?"
Bill pointed a long, skinny finger at her. "Now that's someone I can't comment on, as you well know. But you can do with some friendly company. Care for a cuppa?"
Ardin gazed at his attaché case. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"
"Court in forty-five minutes. But we have till then."
"It's a deal."
At the coffee shop, Bill went up to the counter for lattes and biscottis, and then joined Ardin at the corner table.
She smiled up at him. "Now this is what I call service."
"And the reason Vivie married me. She claims I'm the only truly liberated man she's ever met."
"You're lucky to have her."
A grin lit up his face. "Don't I know it." He winked. "I hear tell that you, Brett, and Leonie were dining out last night like one happy family."
Ardin's heart began to race. "Brett just happened to ask me--"
Bill held up two ham-sized palms. "No explanations required. But I will say he's a hell of a nice guy. I hope he wins his case and adopts that precious little girl."
Ardin gulped. "Bill, I want to adopt Leonie."
"You?"
His stare of incredulity wounded her. "Yes, me. Why? Don't you think I'll make a good mother?"
"No. I mean, I'm sure you would--will."
"Suziette did name me successor guardian," she reminded him. "And Aunt Julia can't care for her. Not now."
"True. It's just so sudden. Don't tell me you want to take Leonie to live in Manhattan."
"I do."
"Which further complicates the situation. Don't forget, an attorney will be named to represent Leonie's best interests."
Ardin felt a chill in the pit of her stomach. "Right. I haven't given it much thought."
"Not me, of course. I'd recuse myself because Leonie and Michelle are best friends."
A battle lay before her, and Bill was telling her, as politely as possible, that he wouldn't be taking her side. Ardin sighed. Winning custody of Leonie wasn't going to be as easy as she'd imagined.
Bill steepled his long fingers and leaned toward her across the tiny table. "By the way, what inspired you to visit Rabe voluntarily?"
"Oh, that. Last night I found a notebook Suziette had hidden in her old room. Good officer of the court that I am, I took it directly to the police."
"What kind of notebook?" His sharp tone gave her an inkling of the formidable legal opponent her old school friend could be.
"Suziette's high school record of dirty deeds. I found you under CQ."
Bill cocked his head. "CQ?"
She explained Suziette's code and did her best to keep her tone light as she said, "By the way, did Suziette have a fling with Corey in high school?"
Bill winced. "Now you're taking me back to some painful memories."
"How so?"
He eyed her speculatively. "So you'll understand, first I have to explain a few things about your cousin."
Ardin held up her hands. "Spare me the graphic details."
Bill chuckled. "You're totally missing the point, Ardin. Suziette was a butterfly. She flitted from guy to guy. We all knew that. But while she was yours, you felt like the sun shone on you and only you. Suziette had the power to make you feel privileged. The chosen one."
Ardin bit her lip. "So it wasn't just the sex."
"Oh, that, too. Those three weeks I walked on air, thrilled out of my skull that Suziette was conferring her special charms on me alone. And then I found out--"
"That you were sharing them with Corey," she finished for him.
"Exactly." He sprawled back in his chair. "I went running to her house to have it out with her, saw them in a clinch through the living room window, and went home to bawl my eyes out."
"How long do you think their fling lasted?"
"I get the feeling they had a fight that night, because two days later she was back with Randy Tarkman, and he wouldn't put up with any competition."
Ardin waited for Bill to return to the here-and-now. "Do you think Corey killed Suziette?"
He shrugged. "I couldn't say, but Suziette had a way of remaining friends with her former boyfriends." He made a mocking bow. "Case in point."
Ardin considered the expensive bracelet her cousin had charged, the loan she'd made to Dimitri. "That was then. Before she'd learned how to trade her charms for hard cash."
Bill looked amused. "Suziette would never prostitute herself. Besides, she was married, remember?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of blackmail."
Bill gnawed at his thumb cuticle as he considered. "Could be you're right, Ardin. And if that's the case, I'd put my money on one of her more recent lovers. Not someone back in high school."
Crestfallen, Ardin said, "So Rabe was right. The notebook I found is of no use."
Bill rose to his feet. "Don't play detective, Ardin. Suziette led a colorful life that included all sorts of people. You might ask one question too many and get someone angry. Let the police find her murderer."
His cautionary words sent a shiver down her back. "Thanks for the coffee." She kissed his cheek. "Good luck in court."
Bill grinned. "Easy case. I'll win hands down."
* * * *
Who killed Suziette? Ardin pondered the question as she stopped at the dry cleaners, the shoemaker, and the supermarket. Was it Corey? Dimitri? She shivered. Certainly not Brett or Bill, though she'd bewitched them all at one time or another. Despite Bill's analysis, Ardin knew her cousin had always been greedy. No doubt, as she got older, she'd learned to exact as good as she gave.
God only knew what she'd demanded and received from her lovers. Until she insisted on the impossible. The undoable. The one thing one particular male refused to oblige her with.
Who was the man and what was his breaking point?
Ardin's head was spinning with suppositions, none of which
she could prove. Finally disgusted, she gave up. This was no way to track down a murderer.
Home again, she put away the groceries, ate a tuna sandwich, and then drove to the hospital. She found Aunt Julia asleep amid her various hook ups. She placed the package of clean nightgowns on the bureau where her aunt would see it.
Julia's cardiologist peered in the doorway just then. "Ms. Wesley." He beckoned her into the corridor.
"How's Aunt Julia doing?"
The doctor, a beanpole of a man with graying hair, pursed his lips before answering. "Considering her weakened heart and the fact that the coronary was not severe, she's doing as well as can be expected."
Ardin heard the concern in his tone. "I see."
She listened numbly as Dr. Morissey explained he'd like to keep Aunt Julia in the hospital another week in order to run tests to help him decide the best course of treatment. After that, she could go home, but would probably require a day nurse to look after her for a while. Her heart wasn't strong, and she had to lead a quiet life without stress.
Ardin watched the doctor walk away until he disappeared. Poor Aunt Julia. The horror of Suziette's murder had taken a toll on her health. Would she soon be visiting both her mother and her aunt at the assisted-living residence?
One thing was certain. Aunt Julia was too ill to take care of Leonie. The court would have to decide for her or for Brett.
CHAPTER NINE
"Oh, no!"
Hundreds of slivers of glass glittered on the ground by the driver's side of her car. A rock occupied her seat. With trembling fingers, Ardin pulled aside the rubber bands to release the note.
"GO BACK TO MANHATTAN ASAP."
She reached for her cell phone and spent the next half hour making calls--to a local garage, her insurance company, and lastly, to her mother, who was expecting her. After Ardin had explained everything, Vera sounded more indignant than upset.
"Be sure to call that Inspector Rabe immediately," she insisted. "Let him find the perp, as they say."
"Oh, sure. And he's not Inspector Anything, Mother. He's Detective Rabe, though he stinks at detecting."
She could almost hear her mother bristling. "Ardin, you can be the most stubborn child. And I wish you hadn't told Bill about finding Suziette's tally pad, as you call it. He's always been a nice boy, but you mustn't take any chances."
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