Karen watched Judd briefly scrutinize the couple. They were of a height, the man being rather short, and both nearing fifty, but there Judd would find the resemblance ended. Karen rarely saw Truman, because he left the managing of his wife’s rental properties completely up to her. But when the Cohens appeared together, Karen couldn’t help thinking of them as a pair of birds, only with the sexes reversed. Corpulent Ruth was always clothed in brilliant colors and fantastic wigs, while her dapper spouse wore neutrals, tailored sport coats and sweater vests.
“I’m sorry,” Judd said, “I don’t recall your faces.”
Truman nudged his wife aside, forcing her to give up Judd’s hand as Truman extended his. “Truman Cohen. What my wife means is we heard about your unfortunate accident. I’m afraid news travels fast in Silver Creek.”
“That’s to be expected,” Judd said. “You say we’ve met before?”
“Yes, at a play at the junior college, in Granite. What was it? He Who Gets Slapped?” Mrs. Cohen glanced at her husband, then continued before he could answer. “You were seated behind us, Judd, and we got talking at the intermission. We went for coffee afterward. It was a very enjoyable evening.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t recall it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Truman said.
“I rent this house from Mrs. Cohen. She owns my uncle’s office downtown, too.”
“They call me the Landlady of Silver Creek,” Mrs. Cohen said. “Isn’t that sweet? It’s because I inherited so much property around town and own some of the principal businesses. My grandfather was one of the founders of Silver Creek.”
“And Mr. Cohen,” said Karen, “is an art historian, a very famous one, actually.”
“In a certain circle,” Truman said modestly.
“That’s why we’re here. I like to have Truman pick out the color schemes for my rentals once in a while. I tell him it’s a chance to use his vast knowledge for a practical purpose.” Mrs. Cohen chuckled at the tease, but she was obviously quite proud of her urbane spouse. “So, I’ll let you get to it I need to take the car down to Mrs. Pike’s for just a moment, but I’ll be right back. Please, Mr. Maxwell, don’t say anything about yourself until I return, I want to hear everything!”
She departed in a flurry of floral draperies. Truman stuck one hand in the pocket of his neatly pressed trousers and with the other smoothed his little brown mustache. “I promise I’ll get her away quickly when she returns.”
“It’s just that there’s not a lot to tell her about Judd—”
“And if there were?” Truman said kindly. “Luckily Ruth didn’t notice, she had her nose in her handbag as we drove up. But if Judd is staying here…” He glanced at the blanket and bed pillow on the sofa and paused a moment. Receiving no denial, he continued, “I’m afraid I must ask you, as my wife’s tenant, if that was a police car which left your house as we arrived?”
“Yes.” Karen sighed. She could tell him the detectives only came about trying to track Judd’s robbers, but news of the murder would be all over town by the end of the day, and Truman would quickly put two and two together.
Judd spoke before she could. “There was a murder last week, somewhere outside town. Apparently the place where I was robbed and later found was nearby—they wanted to know if I remembered seeing anything that could be helpful.”
“Judd was found on the highway, between Silver Creek and the Wheeler Grade turnoff,” Karen added. “The girl was killed up on the grade somewhere.”
“I understand.” Truman nodded. “The people involved were probably from out of town, passing through. Still, it’s dreadful. Quite natural the police would want to interview anyone who might have seen the girl and her attacker. No reason to mention it to my wife,” he added under his breath, as though thinking out loud to himself, but Karen silently thanked him. “Now—” he clapped his hands to signal the subject closed “—on to the mundane business of choosing paint for your walls. Have you any preferences, Karen?”
KAREN KNEW she would take more time picking the color of new underwear than she was spending choosing the paint for her home, but at the moment she didn’t care. There were only two thoughts on her mind as she toured the cottage with Truman Cohen: finishing before Mrs. Cohen returned, and getting back to Judd, who had retired to the back sunporch with his coffee. Karen wasn’t really sure which of the off-white and cheery yellow hues she was assenting to as Truman marked their names on a card with his fountain pen; the man spent half his time flying around the country, giving lectures on the great masters, so she figured she could trust him with flat and semigloss latex.
She had him on his way, out the door, within fifteen minutes, just as his wife returned and jumped from the driver’s seat with amazing agility. Karen smiled as she closed the front door; she could hear the start of an argument, with Truman urging his wife to not make a fuss and come along quietly.
The smile quickly disappeared as she headed for the porch. The girl’s murder was a dreadful thing. As she had listened to the detectives, for a nervenumbing moment she’d wondered if Judd could be involved. But as her mind had begun to work properly, she’d realized that, of course, he had nothing to do with it. His car was found a long way from Wheeler Grade, and he’d been driving toward the grade turnoff, not away from it, as he would have been had he been fleeing the scene of the crime.
But the murder, while a tragedy in itself, could not have come at a worse time for Judd. Remembering the suspicions he’d expressed about himself two days ago at the bank, Karen worried he might now construe his gathering of funds Friday night as preparations to flee the police.
Karen paused in the porch doorway. The scene of their romantic tryst last night appeared far different in the midmorning light. They had kissed for only a few minutes before Judd whispered that it really was time they turn in. He’d been playing the part of the gentleman, she’d told herself, when she was feeling more like a wanton than her usual conservative, rather prim self. However, at the time she’d been too enthralled by the experience to feel any amazement at herself. She had lain awake in bed for some time, drowsy but delicious with the feel of his kiss still on her lips.
Now Judd, obviously deep in thought, was sitting in a deck chair with his back to her. Tanned legs and feet clad in zori stretched out before him. His calves and thighs were muscular and lean beneath their dusting of hair, bleached chestnut by the sun.
They’re runner’s legs, she thought.
Would the police blundering in this morning be a setback to their relationship? Judd might well tell her he’d decided, as he sat out here, that he couldn’t remain her guest any longer. While she didn’t like the idea of the whole town knowing Judd was staying here, now that Mrs. Cohen was sure to alert them, she had no intention of letting Judd fend for himself. It was time for a talk and some damage control.
She spoke. “Have you seen my cat this morning?”
Judd looked up from his reverie. “No, not since he streaked by me when I came in the front door yesterday.”
“Poor Toby, he’s awful with strangers.” She took the chair across from Judd. “I’m not sure if he’s afraid of them or simply offended by them. He refused to come inside practically the whole time my uncle stayed with me. I’ll have to put some cat food out for him before I go.”
“It’s just as well if he’s moved out temporarily, with my cockatiel in residence.” Judd scratched at his bearded jaw. “I think I’ll shave this off today. It’s an itchy nuisance in this heat. I don’t know why I didn’t do it as soon as I left the hospital.”
The thought of obliterating that handsome beard appalled her, but she stopped herself from blurting out an objection. “I suppose it isn’t very comfortable. Is it going to be hot again today?”
“Not as bad as yesterday, in the low eighties, the weatherman says.” He removed the morning newspaper from his lap and laid it on the table.
“Is there anything in the paper about the murder?”
�
�No, but I’m sure there will be by this afternoon. You all finished with the Cohens?”
“Uh-huh. Truman just left.”
“I take it your landlady is a gossip?”
Karen nodded.
Judd sat up straight, then rested his right ankle on his left knee. “I’m sorry if my staying here is going to cause a problem.”
“No, no. Truman may well be able to convince Ruth to keep it to herself, and if he can’t, well, it doesn’t matter.”
He accepted her assurance more quickly than she’d expected. “You should be on your way to your morning appointments, shouldn’t you?” he asked. She had told him her schedule last night; on Fridays she always saw her Silver Creek clients in the morning, leaving the afternoon free for paperwork at home and thereby eliminating the need to drive in to her office in Granite.
“Yes, I have an appointment, but I thought you might want to talk before I leave.”
Judd picked up his coffee cup. “About the sheriff’s visit?” He downed the last swig.
“Yes. I really don’t think you should concern yourself about it.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not. My car was stopped miles from where they must have found the girl, and the chances I saw anything that night are extremely remote.”
“Uh, those were my thoughts exactly.”
“Without a coroner’s report, they’ve only got an approximate time of death. Rossini said ‘about six days,’ so she was probably taken up there and killed sometime Saturday, while I was lying in St. Mary’s Hospital.”
She’d been staring into the garden while he spoke, and she fancied his voice was slightly self-satisfied, almost as though he’d planned to be surrounded by witnesses at the time the girl died. She looked up quickly, noting his expression. No, he’s not congratulatory, she thought. Still, he’s more at ease than I am, discussing the murder.
A chill, like a little finger, poked at her spine.
“The fact she was buried in the ground may make it more difficult for them to ascertain the time of death, I imagine,” Judd continued with a thoughtful frown.
The conversation was taking a strange turn. It wasn’t that warm yet, but Karen felt damp beneath her arms. “I’m glad you figured all that out I didn’t realize you remembered the layout of the roads outside town.”
“Oh, I don’t,” he said quickly. “The officers who picked me up later told me where I’d been found, and I looked the spot up on a map—there was one in the apartment.”
“Oh.” She didn’t remember seeing any map when they’d searched his place, but it couldn’t matter, could it? She suddenly felt anxious to be on her way. She stood, and Judd instantly rose, taking her hand as she stepped around him, then drawing her about to face him.
“I feel like getting out of here,” he said. “You’ll be back by noon—let’s take a drive, see if any of the sights jog my memory.”
“Okay,” she said. Unlike the times before, his touch made her ill at ease. She dropped her gaze so he wouldn’t know.
“You can do your paperwork tomorrow, hmm? And I’ll start looking for a job.”
What could she say?
“I’ll do some cleaning up while you’re gone.”
The thought of him working around her house, among her private possessions, was suddenly unsettling. She looked up. “There’s really no need.”
Her objection was useless; he just smiled indulgently. The lips that had given her so much pleasure last night seemed somehow thinner this morning, the upturned corners almost disconcerting beneath the cool gray of his eyes.
“Mmm, you look good today.” Judd ran his hands over her bare arms. She was wearing a simple sleeveless cotton shirt and slacks. When she had dressed, she’d been disappointed that her more attractive clothes were all in the laundry. She knew she didn’t look alluring. But Judd’s eyes were turning from steel blue to indigo as he surveyed her. It was as if he wasn’t seeing just her outfit, but what lay beneath it.
The knowledge of his arousal churned within her, seeking a reaction amid the confusion of her feelings. A whorl of answering desire overrode her apprehensions, her blood whispering how thrilling it would be to satisfy this virile male’s curiosity.
His voice was a husky whisper as he told her, “When you get home, why don’t you put on those sexy shorts you wore last night?”
“All right” She could feel herself becoming lost in the passion in his eyes. The pressure of his fingers on her arms increased, and he drew her to his chest When their mouths met, a kind of energy leaped from him to her, electrifying her with the same sexual craving he’d infused in her last night She wanted to jump into his arms, wrap herself around him. This gentle pressure of his lips wasn’t enough! She desperately wanted to feel his tongue in her mouth, his hands exploring and melting her body.
Panic sounded in Karen’s brain. Her feelings were too hot, too volatile and racing her out of control. She pushed back to try to save herself, tried to breathe and was relieved when he eased his hold on her. She didn’t look at his face, afraid she’d see a knowing grin there. She mumbled something about being late and said goodbye, then went in search of her purse on legs that felt unsteady.
She couldn’t relax even with the front door shut behind her. It had only been a parting kiss, very brief, yet she felt like she’d been shoved in a smelter and pulled back out again.
KAREN WAS TROUBLED, and confused, and very much in need of time to think. However, it would only take her ten minutes to cross town, and she’d have to deal with her first client, Mrs. Dempsey.
She was still shaking from Judd’s kiss. She’d never realized how intense sexual attraction could be. And it had become clear to her as he kissed her how much Judd wanted her. Her stampeding hormones were making it almost impossible for her to think straight.
But she had to try, because something had not felt at all right about the things Judd said, and the way he acted, on the sunporch this morning. She had to recreate their conversation and forget about the embrace.
She’d grown comfortable with him over the past couple of days, felt she was getting to know him. And this morning he’d acted completely differently than she’d come to expect. He’d been like a stranger.
Perhaps she’d imagined it. Perhaps the problem was with her, not with Judd. Was she reacting to his new calmness about his problems like a slighted caregiver, being pouty that he wasn’t leaning on her? Was she reacting like a codependent when she should instead be glad he was getting back on his feet emotionally?
But trying to figure it out was difficult when she could still feel the sensation of him pulling her possessively to his chest, feel her will breaking inside her like a slender branch in his hands.
She had to forget about that for a moment…It was so confusing. All kinds of thoughts had suddenly started going through her mind as he talked about the murdered girl in that nonchalant way. She’d even wondered if he was hiding something, but she had no reason to think that.
Or had she? What did she really know about Judd Maxwell? He could be a drifter, perpetually underemployed, or even unemployed, for all she knew. In her rush to take care of him and champion him, had she dismissed taking a more objective look at him?
If he kept kissing her like that, she’d never be able to intelligently weigh the facts! She’d never, ever reacted to a man this strongly. How could she think of him dispassionately when she felt like selling her soul every time he touched her?
Karen realized with a start she’d arrived at Mrs. Dempsey’s apartment. She couldn’t remember driving there.
It was supposed to be a quick checkup on an elderly client who was doing quite well on her own now. But, as she often did, Mrs. Dempsey wheedled Karen into driving her somewhere when the local seniors’ shuttle could have done the same. Karen tried with diligence to listen to her client as they drove to Mrs. Dempsey’s doctor’s appointment, but her earlier anxieties about Judd were so strong, they were hard to put aside. Karen found it too easy to return to her
own thoughts with both the radio tuned to Mrs. Dempsey’s favorite news station and the lady herself chatting without a break. Karen knew her client enjoyed doing most of the talking and really didn’t expect a response other than nods and one-word comments to show that Karen was paying attention.
Mrs. Dempsey was recounting the plot of The Rockford Files rerun she’d watched the night before when the radio announcer said, “The body of a young woman was found late yesterday afternoon by a local bird-watcher in the forest near Wheeler Grade Road, four miles west of Highway 18.”
Mrs. Dempsey stopped speaking in midsentence and fixed on the radio. Karen turned up the sound.
“The Granite County Sheriffs Department has not been able to identify the victim, whom they describe as being in her late twenties. The body was buried in a makeshift grave some distance—”
“Appalling, absolutely appalling,” Mrs. Dempsey said. Karen wanted to hear the rest of the report, but her client continued, “Young women are so foolish these days, getting involved with wife beaters and murderers! Surely it’s obvious to the girls from the start what kind of men they’re dealing with.” Mrs. Dempsey took a rare pause and pursed her lips.
Karen’s brow was troubled, and she didn’t speak for a minute. “I wish I knew…No, I mean, you’re right, of course.”
HARD ROCK BLARED from the stereo as Karen let herself into her house. It was nearly loud enough in the living room to make her cover her ears in self-defense. She pictured the speakers exploding and shooting sparks from the overload. She turned it down a tad, but just so it was manageable. Judd was her guest, after all, and she didn’t want him to take her lowering of the volume as a criticism. But she couldn’t help mumbling to herself, “How can he listen to this stuff?”
She herself only liked light rock, and some classical. How could Judd tune in to Billy Joel one day, and the Head Bangers, or whoever they were, the next? Where was he, anyway?
She called out his name above the music, but he didn’t answer. She could see the backyard through the sunporch, but he wasn’t outside or in the kitchen. She hoped he wasn’t using the only bathroom, off the hall. She’d been perspiring in the car on the way home, and she badly needed to splash some cool water on her face.
Only A Memory Away Page 9