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Adam liked this time of morning, right after the first blush of sunrise, when everything felt new and clean. As if the dark cloak of night had swept away yesterday’s mistakes and started the world over again. Although that wasn’t true in the human world, was it? Man’s criminal ways continued without pause—or Adam would have long been out of a job.
He knew Beverly wasn’t happy with the slow pace of the investigation into Wallace Ryall’s murder. Adam wasn’t exactly dancing a jig over the lack of a big break in the case and had stayed up late going over his notes. The truth was in there, somewhere. Or pieces of it.
Lulled to sleep by the fisherman’s channel on TV, he awoke with a desire for a salmon-and-egg bagel, which was a gourmet feast after last night’s takeout cardboard-burger. He didn’t try asking Beverly to go to dinner with him. What was the point?
Maybe the time for that had passed, maybe it wasn’t in the cards, maybe he really was married to his work, as Zelda had said. He comforted himself with the thought Beverly was safe, probably sleeping in or taking advantage of the resort’s spa.
His cellphone rang, and he briefly entertained the notion of letting it go to voicemail. In the world of a cop, phone calls were as likely to be bad as good. But he picked it up and was surprised by the caller, although whether the call was good or bad remained to be seen. He agreed to meet her for brunch and told himself at least he’d get a good meal out of it.
On the stroke of noon, or so his atomic chronograph watch said, he walked into the Hanover’s Embers Bistro. He didn’t even check with the hostess, although he recognized her, and she smiled back at him, pointing into the dining room. Zelda was already there, seated in their “usual” booth, the one they used to ask for.
He’d lost count of how many times they’d eaten here when they were married. The food was above-average, the service outstanding, and the Drunken Chocolate Truffle Cake was something that should be enshrined in the Guinness Book of World Records under “most decadent.”
Zelda reached out for his hand as he sat down and squeezed it. “I’m glad you came. I ordered us the usual.”
“Does the mayor know you’re here?”
“He’s out of town this weekend. A sudden last-minute thing.”
“Zelda—”
“It’s all right. I’m just here to check up on Harlan. He’s my friend, too.”
Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow but went along for now. “I saw him the other day, at his shop. He looks good. Holding up well.”
“I don’t understand how anyone could possibly believe he’s guilty. You don’t, do you?”
“The evidence is circumstantial, but it was enough to charge him.”
“But you don’t believe it. Tell me you don’t.”
He looked into her eyes and realized it was as hard to lie to her as always. “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I get to play favorites.”
“I’m glad you got to see him. Titus doesn’t want me to. Says it would look bad.”
“For him or for you?”
She reached up to play with her gold double-hooped earrings that jangled when she touched them. “Both. He’s also quite upset that woman is still in town. The one involved with the Forsythe scandal. He’s afraid she wants to settle down here.”
“And that’s a bad thing, how?”
“Oh, you know. Appearances. Of the town, its moral fiber.”
“He didn’t think it was that immoral to associate with the same man who kidnapped me.”
“He associates with a wide variety of people. He doesn’t do a background check on everyone he meets.”
“Maybe he should.”
“That woman. . .Beverly, isn’t it?”
Adam nodded, knowing full well she knew Beverly’s name. After all, she “had coffee” with her the other day. And Adam had the sudden feeling he knew precisely why Zelda wanted to meet him today, which was verified by her next question.
“She’s a lovely woman, and you seem to be getting closer to her. But surely you understand she’s not right for you?”
“Like you weren’t right for me? Or more the reverse—I wasn’t right for you.”
“Adam, I didn’t come here to quarrel. I’m not in the mood for it.” She grabbed her napkin as the butternut cider bisque arrived and took a tentative taste of the soup. “As good as always.”
He had to agree with her there. He also had to agree he wasn’t in the mood for a fight with her. So he kept it apolitical. “Yep. Pretty good.”
After a couple more spoonfuls of the soup, she said, “My mother isn’t doing well. It’s the rheumatoid arthritis acting up again.”
“Sorry to hear that. The methotrexate not working anymore?”
“Not as much. The doctors are thinking they’ll try biologics. They’re genetically engineered proteins.”
“Hope it works.”
Zelda drew circles in her soup with the spoon. “She tells me all the time what a mistake I made by divorcing you.”
“Kalinda said that? Thought she hated me.”
“That’s what she wanted people to think. Mom had such a rotten childhood, being abandoned at a gas station. She finds it hard to trust anyone, but she did trust you.”
“I guess I’m flattered.”
They continued eating their soup in silence, Adam struggling for what to say. He was married to the woman sitting across from him for ten years, and yet he couldn’t think of anything to talk about. Make that anything “safe” to talk about.
She only ate half her soup then pushed it away. “I overheard something. Something Titus said, and it made me troubled.”
He waited expectantly and put his spoon down to focus on her.
“It was his end of a phone conversation, so I’m not sure who he was talking to. But he said he ‘hoped this would teach Detective Dutton a lesson and keep him in line.’ I can’t believe he was behind framing Harlan. But I don’t know what he might be talking about.”
Adam wracked his brain, trying to think of anything other than Harlan’s case that would fill that bill. He knew the mayor wouldn’t truly rest until Adam was fired. Or worse.
“I heard him say something about a property bond, Adam. Did you secure Harlan’s bail with our house?”
“With my house, no. It was Agnes Flamm, a former antiques store owner who’s setting up a new wine shop. I guess antiques people stick together in times of need.” He wasn’t about to add that Agnes was Beverly’s friend. “Was there anything else your husband said that’s worrying you?”
“Not recently. He mostly talks shop or rants and raves about Vermont’s cap on political action committees. The other day I heard him going on and on about some thefts. Minerals, rocks, dirt, something like that.”
“Rare earths?”
“You know how I am with science. I flunked chemistry. Twice.”
Creighton Querry’s case suddenly got more interesting. If Mayor Lehmann was involved somehow, that opened up multiple cans of political and legal worms.
He was still mulling that over when he noticed Zelda’s blouse sleeve had pushed up further when she rested her elbow on the table. He grabbed her arm and pulled it closer to him. Her eyes widened as he fingered the needle marks, and she pulled her arm out of his grasp.
“When did you start shooting smack?”
She picked at her earring so violently, it threatened to fall out. “Don’t get angry, Adam. I got bored. It’s only a phase. I can quit any time.”
“Did Lehmann get you into this?”
She didn’t reply, but her look toward the windows and away from him spoke volumes. He said, “I should turn him in. I should turn the both of you in.”
“But you won’t.”
Adam rubbed his eyes, trying to quell the desire to speed over to the mayor’s house, tie him to a tree and run one of Harlan’s swords through him. Instead, he reached for her hand, gently this time. “I won’t turn you in if you’ll go to a doctor about this. Get him to prescribe some Suboxone.”
“Adam, I—”
“Promise me.”
She rubbed along his thumb with her own. “You do still care. I knew you did.” Then she looked at him with a watery smile. “I promise.”
He relaxed and held onto her hand. Maybe Zelda’s mother had a hint of all this. She’d always seemed like the perceptive type. And he knew she was probably right—if Zelda had stayed married to Adam, this likely would never have happened. But Zelda hadn’t stayed married to Adam. And now she was hitched to the closest thing to either a non-jailed or non-comatose enemy Adam had.
He wanted to hold her, tell her everything was going to be all right. But they were already in dangerous territory if one of Lehmann’s spies reported back to him about this “brunch” of theirs. Adam could take what Lehmann dished out, but the part of him that still did care about Zelda didn’t want Lehmann taking out his anger on her.
So he said simply, “Want some cake?”
