by Judith Mehl
He explained his fears that the faculty and administration would withhold tenure if they heard. “I was afraid that Charlie knew, but he never said anything. I finally decided he was just curmudgeonly for no reason. He defeated my tenure in life and, now, his death may do the same.”
“Did anyone see you there?”
“Of course, but privacy is of utmost importance. People who go there are sworn to secrecy. It’s the only place most of them can embrace their lifestyle outdoors, enjoy the pool, and the woods, without retribution. I can’t just provide their names as an alibi. Couldn’t you help me with an alibi for the police?”
“What could I tell them?”
“Anything but the truth. Once it’s written down in their files I’m sure it will get out. I love my work Kat, and this university. Help save me?”
She agreed to try. Her mental gears churning as she drove home considering options in dealing with Burrows. It wasn’t till she was miles from the park and campus that she suspected someone was following her. It was after midnight now, and cars on these old country roads were few and far between. Why, of all times, hadn’t she remembered to recharge her cell phone?
Her normal curiosity was overridden with fear as she tried to contrive ways to lose the person. Heading home didn’t seem a safe alternative. She attempted to press the accelerator slowly, gaining speed, but recognized that her anxiety was overriding her common sense as she watched the speedometer rise way past the safe limit for these roads.
Fear bubbled up in her throat like bile. “Was he still there? Who could it be? What did he want?” The questions ricocheted in her mind as she struggled to control the car.
She realized she was just a quarter mile from the turnoff to Albright, and Connie and Jerry’s shop and home. They were always home this late at night. If she could speed up, wake them, and get safely inside, maybe it would discourage her follower. She attempted just that, skidding to a stop behind the shop and racing to their living quarters. Her banging on the back door instantly awakened their faithful dog, sleeping nearby, and he added to the racket with his sentinel bark. Jerry opened the door and she slipped in as a car drove quickly past. The shop blocked her view and she couldn’t see, but was certain it had been the car following her. She explained her fears to the Wynnes’. Though they encouraged her to call the police she demurred, knowing that they could do nothing. She hadn’t recognized the car or driver, and had no proof that anyone was even following her. She did agree to stay the night in their son Paulie’s old room.
Chapter 28
The amount of right slant tells how much the writer is willing to spontaneously show feelings, but even a moderate slant to the left shows an oppositional attitude toward the world in general. The more rightward, the more passion.
“The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Handwriting Analysis” by Sheila Lowe
Though the hour was late after they left Kat’s, Nick followed G. L. back to his place to trade information they hadn’t felt free to reveal to her. They settled down in G. L.’s den with a couple of beers and a notepad. The dark paneled walls, bare of decoration, provided an appropriately somber setting for their discussion. Nick was displeased, though not surprised, to hear about Kat’s other threatening note.
G. L. reported Kat’s visit to Maria and Carlos’s hate-filled demeanor upon seeing her leave.
Nick paced, Yuengling in hand, as they dissected alternative plans. He stopped abruptly in front of G. L. “Okay, let’s switch around. You need to be free to do some investigating. Can you and your men stay on Carlos round the clock? I’ll fill in Burrows and keep track of Kat, God-willing.” His friend nodded agreement, grateful to be off the Kat detail. She moved around too much for his peace of mind. He also wanted to check out Carlos’s garage. He’d glimpsed a second car in there but hadn’t had time to investigate, since he needed to follow Kat. Nick took his leave, vowing to call Kat before dawn to invite himself to breakfast. She might balk at the early hour but wouldn’t turn down the chocolate confections he intended to use for a bribe.
Morning brought more confidence to Kat and just after dawn she headed home. Jerry Wynne insisted on following her safely to her door and checking out the house before she entered. Kat felt sure she could handle any problems but knew Jerry needed to feel helpful. She had to admit having someone there made her feel a little more secure. A more serious concern was when to tell Nick and Richard, and exactly how much to conceal.
The blinking light on her answering machine glowed in the dark room as she locked up after Jerry. She’d cleared her messages yesterday. The light meant someone had been calling her very late last night or early this morning. She knew it brought bad news. Nothing at that time of day could be good. She listened to a series of messages, each with more rising urgency than the last. The final message had the most impact, with Nick shouting, “You’d better be a heavy sleeper. I’m worried sick. I’ve been calling for hours. I’m heading over there now.”
Sheesh! It was only eight a.m. and a Saturday. Didn’t he have any common decency? Could she claim she’d been sleeping? Should she? She raced to the shower as she debated it, pulling her sweatshirt over her head as she ran. He’d probably be here any minute. He didn’t have a key to the house but he sounded angry enough to break down the front door. The last thing she needed was Nick banging on the bathroom door. After sleeping in her clothes and yesterday’s makeup, it was a better choice than having him find her looking like yesterday’s spaghetti.
The shower, though invigorating, gave her time for second thoughts. With the hot spray came doubts. She’d just done something pretty stupid in meeting Abner. She should also be cautious with Nick. He’d never revealed much of his background. She’d never bothered to investigate. Now that President Ludlow was back maybe she could discreetly inquire about Nick.
First she needed to talk her way through this confrontation with Nick. As she reached for the towel and rushed through the rest of her preparations she realized she felt guilt at even considering Nick could be involved in a murder. On one level they seemed much more than friends. How could she feel that way and still suspect him of something?
She finished drying her hair just as the doorbell rang, and rang, and rang. “Must be Nick,” she joked, trying to lighten her mood. Maybe the lighthearted approach with a plea of insanity and a ply for pity would work. First, she could find out what had him so frazzled that he was calling before dawn.
Nick reached for her the second she opened the door, bringing all her fears back to the forefront. But the hug and kiss that proceeded the shaking loosened her fears, and brought dismay to her eyes. He eventually held her away and studied her, seeing that dismay, but nothing else to frighten him.
“Where have you been all morning? I’ve been calling since six o’clock!”
“Loathe to tell him of her ventures just yet, she motioned him toward the kitchen and asked, “Six? What on earth for?” Kat attempted to make coffee but Nick would have none of it.
He pulled her around and held her tightly. “Kat, where were you?”
His bewilderment and lingering fear calmed Kat and eased her own worries. She delayed no longer and told him of her adventures the night before. She admitted stupidity in meeting Abner and told of his plight without revealing his alibi. She stumbled through the account of the car following her and the subsequent overnight stay at the Wynnes.
Nick corralled his sickening dread and his desire to shake her senseless. He gestured for her to continue making coffee while he settled at the table. He’d forgotten the chocolate confections he’d planned to use in placating Kat. Now he was the one who needed pacifying.
He saw her attempt to color her late night escapade with humor but the fear shown in her eyes and shaking hands as she poured from the coffeepot.
“I know I was wrong in leaving here, wrong in not contacting you. It’s not like I’m under police surveillance though, and you can’t imagine how much I want this whole murder investigation behind me.
I want justice dispatched to the killer and I want the shadows and phone calls to stop. I’m just not sure how to accomplish that. I’m not even sure it’s all the same person.”
She rose and started fiddling with the already clean kitchen counter. Moving the coffeemaker and returning it to its original location, placing the sugar bowl a few inches further right, anything to relieve her nervous tension. She explained her quandary.
“You say Carlos looks suspicious, but cleared him of following behind me on the stairs that day. G. L. thinks we need to look into him more, yet Burrows said his books are beyond reproach and he had a logical reason for visiting my office. So it’s probably not Carlos, Abner has an alibi, no one killed Charlie for what was in the journal, and his students have been cleared. Where do we go from here?”
Before he could answer, she sought his opinion on how to deal with corroborating an alibi without being able to contact the people involved. He wanted to laugh. Could she be serious? Her strained face and white-knuckled hands answered the question. “Honey, there may be no way to keep the police out of this if Abner is involved.”
“But he’s innocent. Why do they have to ruin his life?”
“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?”
“Nick, I’m sorry I can’t confide in you. I gave my word. But if I could tell you what was involved, you’d understand.”
Nick felt protective tenderness toward her as she struggled for a solution for Abner while grappling with her own fears, but he could only say, “OK, I’ll try to think of something.”
He wanted to pull her into his lap and hold her tight, ward off her fears, but he knew she was the type who preferred activity to meaningless promises. He did, however, try to assuage those fears with a logical study of the information to date. “First of all, it’s not as hopeless as you sound right now. We won’t give up on Carlos till we’re sure. Burrows is still investigating other people. We won’t just accept Abner’s alibi on his say so.”
Thinking it would make her feel safe, he started to add that now they could follow and protect her more easily with G. L. out in the open. But he saw her resistance mount before the words were formed. He reached for her hands and pulled her close between his knees as he sat in the kitchen chair.
“Kat, please. I can’t stand that you’re in danger. I know you hate the thought but it won’t be all bad. I was hoping we could spend more time together. And well, what I came to ask the other night and never managed, was, ‘Would you consider living together, at least until this is over?’”
The thought of being watched all the time was imprisoning, but Kat could see the concern in his eyes, those beautiful aqua eyes that reached to her soul. She knew he wasn’t the killer, and more, knew that she couldn’t deny him anything. She stepped away and appeared to ponder the question, not willing to give in quite so easily after he and G. L. had deceived her. She briefly mulled over the idea of asking him more about his past, sensing there was still something secretive there, but decided the timing was off.
Kat studied him out of the corner of her eye while she considered all he’d said. The narrowness of his hips accentuated his brawny chest. Kat was happy he wore his dress shirts slightly loose. Otherwise she’d be drooling at the office. As it was she fought the urge to challenge at dawn the many female students that promenaded past his office door on flimsy excuses. That possessive feeling alone was enough cause to accept him. She’d explore the other reasons later.
Nick was pacing while she examined the offer. He stared sightless past the sheer curtains at her window, past the birds attacking the feeders, and delved into his soul. Could he bear the hurt if she said no? Could he stand here and do nothing to prompt a response in his favor? He decided he must and returned to his seat, his arms limp, as he awaited her answer or her return to him. She came quickly to both, settling into his lap as he tugged her forward. “OK. I’ll try to tolerate it.”
“Great, the first time in my life I ask a woman to live with me and I get only forbearance!”
He hid his relief with humor. “Couldn’t you at least fake a little enthusiasm?”
She snuggled closer, arms around his neck, and laughed. “OK, I’d love to move in with you.” She explained how, as much as she loved her home, she would feel safer somewhere else for now. His concern had diluted her anxiety and at that moment she put all her trust in him.
He could see it, feel it. His hug tightened into an embrace, his relief prompting the untangling of feelings once confused. The blurred panorama of life had come into focus while he was in the hospital. Now, as he held Kat in his arms, his vision of the future was taking shape, and that shape was Kat. It was too soon to tell her though. He wanted her full attention when the time came. For now they let the moments pass quietly and in compliant peace.
The mood shifted and the embrace tightened. He cradled her head in the palm of his hands, wanting to memorize the feel of her. He rained kisses down her shuddering body, using his mouth to erase the fears. He carried her into the bedroom, gently laying her on the comforter, and never letting go with his eyes. She reached for him, their needs running deeper than desire.
She gloried in soothing his aching body. He reveled in worshiping hers. His bold and demanding kisses fired her fervor. The heat pooled uncomfortably in her lower body as they intertwined. She explored his back with her fingers, memorizing the muscled planes and dips.
His blood thickened in the onslaught. He knew he could trust her with his feelings, his dreams. He needed soon to trust her with his secrets. Once again, the time wasn’t right. He’d never felt such unity with another woman. His aqua eyes darkened as his mouth lowered to hers and all thoughts were drowned in their passion.
As they cooled in the aftermath, Nick pulled her close. The time was now. “Kat, there are probably some things you need to know about my past.”
She sensed his seriousness, saw his look of embarrassment, and decided not to joke about skeletons. She merely nodded.
“I’ve always been a doer, a mover, yet a void was growing lately, even before I became ill and got out. Then, once the constant activity was gone, I realized how unsubstantial, unfulfilling it all was.” He explained how he’d done a necessary job, one that was created by his government and respected by his peers. He hadn’t been a mercenary, but sometimes he felt like one. He’d helped protect more people than would ever know, but he felt like an apology was in order. He was no longer able to do that job, mentally and physically, and he wanted to replace it with more than a job, with a real life, with constant friends and love, and family.
Kat nuzzled his chin as he spoke, reaching her arms round in a protective hug. Her affection deepened as he confessed his confusion. With her body she showed her acceptance of what he’d been, and her respect. He loved her for that, but stopped short of asking her to be a part of that new life. Hopefully there’d be time for that after the professor’s murderer was caught and Kat was safe.
Chapter 29
When a letter suddenly takes off at an acute right angle—such as the maniac ‘d’, it indicates loss of control over hand movement signaling extreme danger.
“Handwriting Analysis, Putting it to Work for You”
by Andrea McNichol
Red bushel baskets overflowing with freshly fallen leaves tumbled strategically around the room to remind them of the changing seasons in case the frost on their windshields wasn’t enough of a clue. Nick enjoyed the glitter of the donor celebration but found more fire in this simple faculty and staff dinner dance. The conversation sparkled, less stilted and more robust at this event, the casualness reflected in the laughter and spurts of semi-raucous friendly disagreements.
Nick accompanied Kat to the dance—as he had to every appointment that day, including the stops at the cleaners and the drug store. He’d helped her move the necessities to his home the afternoon before and hadn’t left her side since. He didn’t want her to feel imprisoned so provided her plenty of mental and physical space, not even a
blink revealed his dismay when she unpacked a dozen pairs of shoes for her stay of a few days.
Nick wanted G. L. to attend and they teamed him up with Madeline. When he apologized for the imposition, Maddy rolled her eyes in glee at having such a becoming escort.
The dinner and dance progressed cheerfully for all involved. Dinner conversation led inevitably to the death of their associate, Charlie, and eager participants fed on the gruesome. The discussion led down a path seldom traveled, most employees unwilling to view their fellow work mates as anything but amiable cohorts. But tonight, with Charlie’s death on their minds, people spoke openly about workplace violence.
“Is this even considered a workplace crime? And we still have no clue if it was ‘one of us’ or someone from the outside barging in,” Maddy interjected, waving her celery stick to make her point.
Professor Higgins added more incendiary fodder. “It’s my understanding that workplace violence is the result of employees who have experienced physical, emotional, or sexual abuse from childhood. Employees bring their baggage into the workplace.”
The conversation halted abruptly, and Nick sensed minds turning inward, speculating on whom amongst them had exhibited extreme tendencies. Eventually it moved to a discussion of violence in general, the consensus being that once someone witnessed an act of violence, his or her life was unalterably changed. The group was relieved when it was time to leave the table and individuals wandered eagerly onto the dance floor while others stood on the side, mentally shaking away the slivers of dread engendered by the topic and exerting themselves to return to the earlier gayety.
As the music dropped tempo from the blast of John Mellencamp to the mellowness of Sugar Blues, Nick asked Kat with his eyes for a dance. She slid into his arms like a homecoming. The music was a fine rendition of one of the big band hits they loved. The room dimmed and not a word was spoken as they moved about the dance floor. None was needed or wanted as they lived for a few minutes in their own world. The music drifted into “Twilight Time” without them noticing. All too soon the soothing music was replaced by a raucous beat. They left the floor, conceding that the next piece, which bounced to a far different tempo, broke the mood.