“Not entirely,” he said slowly. “Maybe, if that had been the only problem, we’d have worked out some sort of compromise.
“But I was still a cop back then, and shift work can be pretty hard on a marriage. Plus, Joanne was really ambitious—always working late, then taking classes a couple of nights a week. So between her schedule and mine, we’d often go for days at a stretch barely seeing each other, and…Well, somewhere along the way, while we weren’t spending much time together, we drifted completely apart”
“I’m sorry. Enough of my friends have been through a divorce that I know how tough it is.”
He shrugged. “I’m over it now. And she’s remarried, so she obviously is, too.”
Beth hesitated, telling herself to stop right there. But she couldn’t keep from going on. “She’s remarried and you haven’t. Does that mean you’ve sworn off marriage?”
She’d tried to make the words sound nonchalant, but when Cole simply gazed at her she knew he’d seen right through her. The question had been painfully transparent. So why in the world had she asked it?
Because you’re interested in him, an imaginary voice whispered. You aren’t drawn to him merely because he makes you feel protected. There’s far more to it than that, and you might as well admit it. Trying to deny what you’re feeling isn’t going to make it go away.
“No,” he said at last “I haven’t sworn off marriage. I expect that, some day, I’ll fall for someone else. I’ll just have to make sure it’s a someone who wants to spend a little more time having fun than Joanne did. And a someone who doesn’t have a Brian in her life.”
Cole was gazing at her again, and this time she grew positively hot He was the one asking a question now. Maybe not aloud, but she could see it in his eyes. And she didn’t know how she should answer it.
He shrugged, just a little too casually, and said, “When Brian phoned, and you were screening the call, I couldn’t help overhear him call you ‘love.’ So I assumed things were pretty serious between the two of you.”
Now the question was right out in the open, and hearing him say it had started heat curling low in her belly. He wouldn’t have asked it if he wasn’t interested in her—in exactly the same way she was interested in him.
She searched for the right words, still not entirely sure what she wanted to say. She’d thought she was in love with Brian. But right this moment she was wondering if she’d merely been trying to convince herself of that.
He was a nice man. They had a lot in common and she enjoyed being with him. But if she was really in love with him, how could Cole be practically melting her with his eyes?
“I guess Brian and I are at that stage where we’re not quite sure how serious things are,” she said at last.
“Oh? You mean that stage where things could go either way?”
“Aah…yes, I guess you could put it like that.” She felt a stab of guilt as she spoke—almost as if she were betraying Brian. Then Cole caught her gaze once more, and it made her pulse begin to race.
She’d never before met anyone who could send hot rushes through her by merely looking at her. And now that she had, she was going to have to do some good, hard thinking about how much she really did care for Brian.
Maybe the pull she felt toward Cole meant that she’d been dragging her feet with Brian because, deep down, she’d known he wasn’t the right one for her. But until she’d had a chance to think things through, she’d be a whole lot wiser to stick to more neutral ground with Cole.
Closing the alburn, she reached for the photograph she’d put on the coffee table, forcing her thoughts back to where they’d been before they’d gotten so far off track.
‘‘This would probably be a good one,’’ she said.
‘‘It looks fine.”
“But I hate this, you know. I feel as if I’m persecuting him,” she added, handing the snapshot to Cole.
“I know.”
“Then why can’t we start with someone else?”
“Beth…you heard what Abbot said. Two of their suspects had iron-clad alibis, the timing would have been impossible for William Colburn, and they couldn’t see how his wife could conceivably have been the one.
“That means the only sensible places to start are either with Charles Mantay, the one without a solid alibi, or Mrs. Voise, who might be able to help us ID the mystery man.”
“Then why don’t we start with Mantay?” She caught Cole’s gaze once more and held it, wondering if he’d tell her the truth—tell her that he’d decided to start by trying to ID the mystery man because he was certain it was Glen Gregory.
Cole might still be saying her father wasn’t necessarily guilty, but she knew he figured that possibility was awfully remote.
“We’ll get to Mantay,” he said at last. “I already told you we’d talk to him. But we don’t have a current address for him, and we’ve got one for Esther Voise. So starting with her is only logical.”
Maybe it was. But what would happen when they showed her the photograph?
What if she said, Yes, that’s the other man who used to visit Larisa. I couldn’t describe him very well to the police, but I’m certain that’s him. Even though he doesn‘t have a ponytail in this picture, I recognize him.
Beth tried to imagine how hearing words like those would make her feel. Just thinking about it almost made her ill.
“I can’t do this,’’ she said.
“Can’t do what?” Cole asked quietly.
“I can’t go and see Esther Voise with you. I can’t be there when you show her the picture.
“And you know what else? I don’t think it’s fair that you’re doing it. It’s like asking someone to look at a police lineup that has only one man in it”
“Beth—”
“And what if she does say it’s a picture of the mystery man? She’ll be remembering something from over twenty years ago. Even at the time she could hardly describe him.”
Cole nodded. “You’re right. Even if she says yes, that’s the man, she could be wrong. But she might say he’s not the man.”
“And if she did? How much weight would you give that?”
“More than if she said it was him. Because your analogy to a police lineup with only one man in it was a good one.”
But if Esther Voise did say the man in the picture was the man she’d seen those times…
Beth thought about that for a minute, then slowly shook her head. She was already completely strung out, and there was only so much she could put herself through. “Cole, I really don’t want to go with you.”
He eyed her for a long moment, then said, “Look, I think I’ve said this before—that I’m sorry I keep saying things that scare you. And I really am. But, under the circumstances, I don’t want to leave you alone. Or with anyone else, for that matter. Not unless you’d like to hire a bodyguard.”
She could feel her heart thudding against her chest. He did keep scaring her, but she knew he had good reason for not wanting to leave her on her own. And she didn’t really want him to.
“It sounds as if I already have a bodyguard,” she finally said.
He smiled at that—a smile that crinkled the little lines beside his eyes and started a fluttering feeling inside her.
It made her aware that she wanted more than merely not being left on her own. She wanted to be with him. And it was definitely not only because he made her feel safe.
Lord, she had to do some good, hard thinking—and not with him sitting here on the couch beside her. Because, this close to him, she was having trouble thinking at all.
ONCE BETH FINALLY AGREED to go to Esther Voise’s with him, Cole did his darnedest to steer the conversation back to a personal level.
After all, having two sisters had taught him something about women. And he knew that when one of them said, “We’re at the stage where we’re not quite sure how serious things are,” the guy she was referring to was hardly the love of her life.
So to hell with his.
rule about not mixing business with pleasure. Rules were made to be broken. He was sure somebody very wise had originally said that.
The problem was, Beth wasn’t exactly being cooperative. In fact, he was barely getting warmed up when she said, “You know, I promised I’d try my mother again, so I think I’ll go into my office and do it now. After that, I’ve got some work I really have to get to, and you…”
She paused, gesturing in the direction of his brief-case. “You have those things you want to clean up for other clients. Why don’t you use the dining room table for work space?”
Since it was only too obvious that she meant “right now,” he said, “Well…yeah, good idea. But before I do anything else, I think I’ll make some notes about what Abbot told us.”
With a quick nod, Beth disappeared around the glass brick wall that separated her office from the rest of the apartment.
Telling himself she hadn’t actually been trying to get away from him, that she just wanted to keep busy because she was nervous about the prospect of visiting Esther Voise, Cole opened his laptop and started working.
When Beth eventually reappeared, something told him she didn’t want to discuss anything that wasn’t business-related, so he said, “I’ve got some news. I went into a few databases and managed to track down Charles Mantay. He’s dead—died almost ten years ago.”
“But…what if it was him?”
“Beth, the important issue is that whoever was taking potshots at you isn’t dead And it’s far more likely that he killed Larisa than that Mantay did.
“Look,” he continued, not wanting to dwell on the subject of killings, “it’s a little early to head for Esther Voise’s, but do you think this would be a good time to phone your uncle?”
“Phone him?” she said uneasily.
“Yeah, he asked me to check in once a day, re-member?”
She glanced at her watch, then said, “If you wait a couple of minutes, he’ll probably be tree. It’s al-most ten to four, and he does the standard fifty-minute hour with his patients. But…you’re not thinking of saying anything about the shooter, are you? It would only worry him.”
“No, I figured he could live without knowing.”
“And you won’t tell him I’ve remembered anything more.”
“We already decided I wouldn’t.”
A flicker of relief crossed her face. “Right, I just thought you might have forgotten.”
“Me? No way. I’ve got a memory like an elephant’s.”
“Oh? Really? Then why do you need to make so many notes? I could hear you on that laptop, and you were going a mile a minute.”
He smiled. As he’d noticed before, when she wasn’t scared half to death, she had a neat sense of humor.
Closing his laptop, he dug Niebuhr’s card out of his wallet. He’d only glanced at it before, but now, looking more closely, he saw the address was on Bloor, right around Avenue Road.
“Your uncle’s office is in a pretty high-rent district,” he said, picking up Beth’s cordless and punch-ing in the number.
She nodded. “When he first rented it, he and La-risa were living in the Tranby house, which meant he could walk to work. So I guess he figured he’d save enough on parking to pay the extra rent.’’
As she finished speaking, a woman answered Nie-buhr’s phone. When Cole told her who he was, she put him through without any questions. Niebuhr had obviously told her to expect the call.
“Cole,” he said, coming on the line. “I’m glad to hear from you. What’s been happening?”
“Oh, Beth and I have been pretty busy.’’ He glanced at her. She’d sat down on the couch and wasn’t even bothering to pretend she wasn’t listening.
“We spent most of the morning with Frank Abbot,” he told Niebuhr. “The detective who was in charge of the investigation.”
“Yes, I remember Abbot. Did he tell you anything useful?’’
“Uh-huh. There were a few things we’ll be following up on.”
“Really. I’d have thought the facts about a murder case would be highly confidential. Even after all this time.”
‘‘Well, I’m sure there were a lot of things he didn’t tell us, but he got us off to a good start.”
Niebuhr cleared his throat “Did he…tell you who the suspects were?”
“He told us who some of the people they’d questioned were. But that’s something I could have learned pretty easily on my own, so he didn’t have any reason not to tell me.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line before Niebuhr said, “Did he tell you some of them were…acquainted with Larisa?”
“Uh-huh. He mentioned a couple were people she’d been seeing on a professional basis—a teacher of some sort? And a therapist?” Cole stopped there, hoping he’d sounded believably vague about the de-tails.
As Abbot had said, even if the big brass learned he’d discussed the case with a private investigator, and didn’t like it, there wouldn’t be much they could do. Still, Cole didn’t want to risk getting the man into trouble.
“And exactly what will you be following up on?”Niebuhr asked.
“Well, for starters, we’ve got an appointment to see one of your ex-neighbors in half an hour or so. An Esther Voise.”
“Yes, I remember her, as well. She was a nurse—although I imagine she retired long ago. And you’re going to see her because…?”
Cole’s glance flickered to the coffee table, to where the snapshot of Glen Gregory was lying. “Oh, I just want to talk to her. That’s what investigative work is all about—asking questions, seeing if you get anything interesting by way of answers.”
“Yes. Of course. And how’s Beth doing?”
“Fine. Would you like to speak to her?”
“No, I just wondered if she’d remembered any-thing more. If what Frank Abbot told you had prompted further recollections.”
“No, she hasn’t remembered anything more so far.” Cole glanced at Beth as he delivered the lie. She rewarded him with a small smile. “But you think she will?” he added to Niebuhr.
“It’s difficult to say. As I’m sure I told you, when it comes to the workings of the human mind, there are no certainties.”
After they’d said their goodbyes and Cole clicked the phone off, Beth said, ‘‘Thanks. I just…If we told him I had remembered more, and that it was all accurate…
“Oh, I realize how badly I don’t want to think my father might have done it. But there’s more to it than that. I’ve got a feeling there’s something about what I’ve remembered that…I can’t seem to put it into words, but…”
“Woman’s intuition?”
She gave him another small smile. “Maybe. Whatever it is, I just don’t want to make Mark even more certain my father’s guilty. Not unless we learn something that…Well, as I said yesterday, I don’t think it would take much to make him go to the police on his own.”
Which might be a damn good thing, Cole thought.
Or would it? What would happen if Niebuhr did go to the police?
The good doctor would say that Beth had remembered seeing her father murder Larisa, and that he’d hired a private investigator because she had—which would tell them that he was certainly giving Beth’s memory a lot of credence.
And he’d undoubtedly warn them that Beth might not cooperate, that when they questioned her she might deny the truth. So how would the police proceed?
First, they would question Beth. And they’d question Cole, as well. Then, once they had, they’d tell him to butt out of their case.
All they’d have at that point, though, would be hearsay. That would be enough to make them question Glen Gregory. But unless he confessed, which was highly unlikely, they’d be forced to start digging for corroborative evidence—a darned tough job after so much time had passed.
The most important issue, Cole decided, uneasily rubbing his jaw, was who would be watching out for Beth while all that was going on?
Of course, if anything happ
ened to her, Gregory would be the prime suspect. But what if he figured he’d be better off taking his chances with that than risk having his daughter testify as an eyewitness against him?
Then another possibility began snaking around in Cole’s brain. What if, implausible as it might be, Gregory wasn’t the killer? While the police were focusing on him, what would the real murderer be doing?
There wasn’t much question about that. He’d be doing his damnedest to kill Beth—in case she remembered the face she’d actually seen.
Chapter Nine
“Beth?” Cole said as he turned onto Bedford Road. “Do you know your father’s license plate?”
The question came straight out of the blue, and for a second she had no idea why he’d asked it.
Then, as he glanced into his rearview mirror, she had a horrible suspicion she knew.
Her heart began to pound even before she turned to look back. When she did, her throat went dry. A couple of cars behind them, ghostlike in the sunshine, was a silver BMW with darkly tinted windows.
Her father? Cole obviously thought so.
“Do you know the plate number?” he asked again.
She had to swallow hard before any words would come out. “No. Half the time I can’t remember my own.”
“Well let’s try to get a look as this one goes by.” He flicked on his signal and wheeled sharply into a private driveway.
The cars that had been behind them zipped past, including the BMW.
“Dammit,” he muttered when it did.
Beth stared anxiously after it. A length of heavy canvas was hanging out of the trunk and covering the rear plate.
“Where’s a cop when you need one?’’ Cole muttered. “A concealed plate’s a violation.’’
“Do you think it was my father?’’ she asked, desperately wanting him to say it probably wasn’t. “I mean, there has to be more than one silver BMW in Toronto.”
He shot her a wry glance. “Come on, Beth, an M3 coupe? Silver with black windows? How many of those can there be? And this one’s definitely been tailing us. I noticed him a mile or so back, and he was only a couple of cars behind us all along Bloor.”
The Missing Hour Page 10