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Saturday, December 8
Beverly looked at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. Nine-thirty, way later than her usual five a.m. She’d considered asking the resort’s staff to give her a wake-up call but decided against it.
Wrapped in the luxurious down comforter, she felt like a human chrysalis, safe and warm in her own cocoon. But the face that stared back at her in the mirror across the room didn’t look like a butterfly. More like a moth that had gone nine rounds with a spider.
After the bombing at Adam’s last evening, she’d answered questions from the arriving police on site, refused medical care, then answered dozens more questions down at the station.
Jinks, bless her heart, had brought in buckets of espresso and tomato-basil focaccia sandwiches from an all-night cafe a block down the street. Adam had popped in from time to time, but he was busy with his own third-degree with Chief Quinn, the Vermont State Police Bomb Squad, and ATF.
Beverly had wanted to see more of him, to see for herself he was all right. But when ten o’clock rolled around, and he was still in meetings, she realized how tired she was. Given the all-clear to leave, she’d said yes to Jinks, who wanted to trail Beverly back to the resort to make sure she arrived okay. Too exhausted for even a soak in the enticing hot tub in her room, she gave up and went to bed.
She’d tossed and turned in the night, which could explain her new moth-woman look. Mostly, she was worried about Adam and Harlan and the depths someone seemed willing to go to hurt them.
Dragging herself out of bed was hard, but she managed to make it to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. She had a few bruises on her legs from diving to the floor of Adam’s house. Knowing the way he had dived down, he probably had a lot more. But as she’d told him yesterday, it could have been far worse.
After making her way downstairs to the resort’s tea room, she expected to overhear some of the staff talking about the explosion but not a word. It was as if it had never happened. But she hadn’t dreamed it, had she? No, dreams didn’t usually give you bruises.
She wasn’t particularly hungry but ordered a double espresso. Caffeine in hand, she’d no sooner sat down at her favorite table overlooking the White Mountains in the distance, when someone plopped down on the chair across from her.
In her wildest nightmares, she’d never have expected this person to join her. Zelda Lehmann. Beverly considered whether she could beat a hasty retreat to her room and crawl back into bed but decided against it. She’d never run from a challenge.
Beverly knew a “size-up-the-competition” look when she saw it, and Zelda made no effort to hide it. So Beverly took the opportunity to do the same, more in the way a seasoned detective like Adam might do, instead of a tabby gearing up for a catfight.
Zelda was attractive, no doubt about it. It was easy to see why Adam and the mayor had both fallen for her. Although not a natural redhead, the color suited her grayish-green eyes and milk-white skin. The emerald and diamond earrings she wore looked several pay-grades above a detective’s salary. As did the green-and-white floral lace and tulle dress straight from Saks.
“You’re that woman who was involved in the Forsythe case, aren’t you? Beverly Laforde?”
“Laborde. And yes.”
“I’m meeting a friend here and happened to see you. What a fortunate accident of timing.”
Like hell, it was. Zelda wasn’t here to see a friend, not dressed like that. Beverly herself probably still looked like “hell” and had opted for a knee-length plain white sweater over simple black leggings. But she really didn’t care. “Yes, fortunate.” She took a sip of espresso and stared back at the other woman.
“My husband, the mayor, was so distraught by the Forsythe case. I mean, being innocent and having his name dragged through the mud. Just because he made the mistake of trusting a master criminal.”
“He shouldn’t have trusted him.”
“You should know since that man is your uncle, right?”
“Estranged uncle, yes.”
“I can’t help thinking if you’d never come to Ironwood Junction, none of this unpleasant business would have happened. And poor Adam, it’s been so stressful for him. I’ve never seen him look so despondent.”
Beverly wanted to pull out her cellphone and call up a dictionary to shove in Zelda’s face. “Despondent” was not an emotion she’d ever seen Adam exhibit. Disappointed, determined, driven, maybe, but never despondent.
“Adam is perfectly capable of handling all kinds of pressure. Even political.” Beverly punctuated that last bit with a loud slurp of the espresso, trying not to laugh at the expression of anger and disgust on the other woman’s face.
“My husband, and perhaps everyone in town, wonders if you’re somehow involved with Forsythe’s activities. Or perhaps you’re a femme fatale who led your poor uncle astray. Like you’re trying to lead Adam astray.”
And the claws had come out. Beverly kept hers sheathed long enough to give Zelda a nice, friendly smile. “Adam’s a big boy.” And then, she couldn’t help herself, adding, “In all the right places.”
Zelda’s face paled further, but then a crimson flush spread out across her nose and cheeks, coordinating nicely with her hair. “I heard about the pipe bomb. And that you were there when it happened. You may be in this for selfish reasons, but you should consider Adam’s well-being for a change. He’s been almost killed four times now since you arrived in town. You’re not just bad luck, you’re a disaster magnet.”
Since her words echoed Beverly’s own words to Adam, she couldn’t disagree with that part, could she? Her angsty soul-searching must have shown on her face when Zelda stood up with a triumphant look of her own.
“Take my advice, Miss Laforde. Stay away from Adam, and he’ll be a lot healthier for it.”
Beverly stared at her. “This from the woman who broke his heart.”
Zelda’s arrogant expression deflated, and for a moment, her eyes looked like they might be forming tears. Beverly felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman right then, torn between her ambitions and her emotions. Ambitions so strong, they blinded her to the wealth she already had—the love and respect of a good man.
Zelda trounced out of the tea room, leaving Beverly alone with her espresso. A
“walking disaster magnet?” That was a new one. She’d been called a thief, a con woman, a female Robin Hood, a righteous crusader, and an avenging angel.
But disaster magnet? Maybe she should heed Zelda’s advice and stay away from Adam. Maybe there was a cosmic reason she’d never settled down or formed lasting bonds. Then why was she so ready to kiss him last night? And something more?
She picked up the sugar container, adding a spoonful to the other two in her drink. For some reason, it now tasted bitter. As she stared down at her drink, she became aware of someone sliding into the seat across from her. Thinking Zelda had returned, Beverly looked up with a frown.
The woman giving her a careful study smiled at her. “I know that look. A human hornet ready to sting. And I think I know why. That woman who was sitting here, Zelda Lehmann, the mayor’s wife?”
Beverly immediately relaxed. Gloria Gelling was not only the very best waitress Beverly had ever met, but she was one of the best listeners. “Zelda and I aren’t what you’d call bosom buddies.”
“Good thing, too. I have a feeling those bosoms of hers aren’t real.” Gloria grinned, and Beverly couldn’t help but smile back.
“Zelda is also the ex-wife of Detective Adam Dutton.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of her.” She leaned on the table and said in a conspiratorial tone, “If you want, I think I could take this Zelda. She looks too dainty to put up much of a fight.”
“She has a sword for a tongue, though.”
Gloria shook her head. “Can’t see what Adam saw in her. He’s such a great guy. I really do owe him so much.”
“For arresting your ex.”
“Exactly.”
Gloria looked at her watch and called out to her assistant that she was going on break for fifteen minutes. She waved for Beverly to follow her to an upstairs break room with a view out to the snow-capped Presidentials. They sat on comfy chairs next to a fireplace.
Beverly cupped her hands around her mug. “Thought I saw with you some books taking notes the other day.”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m starting my business degree in January.”
“You’re quitting the resort?”
“I’ll continue to work while going part-time. Then, who knows? Harvard MBA? They have a good drama department, too.”
“Then, you’ll have to start coaching me in disguises and costumes.”
“Deal.” Gloria looked toward the direction in which Zelda disappeared. “So...you and Adam are...?”
Beverly blurted out, “Friends. Good friends.”
“Must be nice to have such a sexy friend.” She took one look at Beverly’s face and laughed. “Oh, honey, you may be ‘just’ friends, but somehow I don’t think you want it to stay that way.”
“Right now, I’m only helping Adam on a case. Consulting.”
“Consulting?”
“Whether he likes it or not. It’s about a dear friend of mine, Harlan Wilford.”
“Oh, you mean that murder case? It’s so ridiculous. Everyone knows Harlan couldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Absolutely not.”
Gloria leaned back in her chair. “The victim’s brother, Ramsay Ryall, works here. He’s a great guy. But quite honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him to have killed his own brother.”
“Why?”
“I knew Ramsay’s wife, Mai. She was Vietnamese but had lived here since childhood. Not the usual shy, shrinking violet stereotype of Asian woman, you know? But she confided in me once that her husband’s brother, Wally, gave her the creeps. Always commenting on her body. And trying to kiss her when his brother wasn’t around. Poor thing. Between that and her father-in-law never accepting her, she was miserable. And then there’s that whole inheritance thing.”
“You mean, cutting both sons out of the will?”
“The father did that? I hadn’t heard. Well, yes, then, but I’m referring to the way Wally tried to poison his father’s heart against Ramsay. Mai didn’t like her father-in-law but loathed Wally. The things Wally said about Mai, too. Calling her racist names while trying to molest her on the side.”
“So you’d put your money on Ramsay as our murderer?”
“I do hate to say that. Ramsay’s been nothing but kind to me and all the other staff.”
“What about Mai’s own family? One of them could have found out about Wally’s dark side. Then took matters into their own hands.”
“Mai was an orphan, far as I know.”
“Don’t get too dispirited yet. I’m not. There are other suspects besides Ramsay. And I trust Adam.”
Gloria got up and walked over to a coffee machine, poured herself a cup, and raised it to clink against Beverly’s. “A toast to Detective Adam Dutton.”
“And may he never have to beheld-a Zelda again.”
