J.D. LEFT THE Olive Garden and drove back to the bookstore, taking Buena Vista Boulevard. She had not spent much time in The Villages before this trip and she had been surprised at the flowers that bloomed in the middle and the edges of the large roundabouts that controlled traffic on the major thoroughfares. She identified salvias, begonias, zinnias, marigolds, and petunias, but there were a number of others she didn’t recognize. Judy had told her that the flowerbeds were replanted at the beginning of each season so that there would be blooms all year round.
The road was flanked at regular intervals by well-manicured golf courses, providing a view across the fairways and watercourses to homes that backed up to the courses. Golf cart lanes paralleled the road, occasionally crossing to the other side via tunnels.
She already missed Matt, but she’d left him in good hands. He was surrounded by friends who would make sure that he didn’t get too lonely. She knew she had a lot to do in a short time. She was a bit hamstrung in that she couldn’t use the police resources that were usually available to her. She’d have to rely on old-fashioned digging, but she did have an ace in the hole for uncovering information that was not readily available. Jock.
She smiled at the thought of her friend. She and Matt were his sister and brother, his only family. It had taken J.D. some time to come to terms with what Jock did for a living and how he went about it. His job was in direct contravention to the life she led as a law enforcement officer. She lived by rules and laws and regulations that Jock flaunted with impunity.
She had, over time, come to understand the necessity of what he had to do for his country and how much the job took out of him. Every mission Jock undertook diminished him, snatched a little bit of his humanity and dumped it into a bottomless pit, never to be retrieved. Matt was afraid that one day Jock would just disappear, his conscience at a breaking point. When things got so bad that Jock stood on the edge of the abyss, the healing times, the days of drunkenness and self-pity and the slow recovery pulled him back, but never completely. He always left a piece of himself on the rim of the precipice, the part of him that stared into oblivion and saw the pit as his escape. Jock had recently come dangerously close to making that leap, and J.D. and Matt had pulled him back. Barely. She worried about him, but all she could do was love him like a brother and be there when he stumbled.
The bookstore was busy, men and women milling about, checking out the shelves of new books, some sitting on the couches and chairs reading the first few chapters of the newest releases. J.D. stood behind the cash register, taking care of those who had made their decisions and were on the way home. Some of the customers introduced themselves and seemed interested in the new employee. J.D. told each of them that her name was Jade Conway, that she was Judy Ferguson’s niece, and that she would be visiting for a while.
Two more women who were members of the book club introduced themselves and encouraged J.D. to come to their meetings at the Eisenhower Center. She assured them that she would do so.
By midafternoon, the crowd had thinned out. J.D. noticed an attractive sixty-something woman dressed in slacks and blouse standing by one of the tables looking through some of the books that were on sale. As the last of the customers standing in line in front of the register paid for their purchases and left, the woman walked over to J.D. “I understand you’re Judy’s niece,” she said.
“I am,” J.D. said. “I’m Jade Conway.”
The woman stuck out her hand. “I’m Ruth Bergstrom,” she said. “I’m a member of our book club. I hope we can count on you to join us. We need some younger perspective.”
The name sent a small jolt of electricity down J.D.’s spine. This woman was her target. J.D. shook the proffered hand and said, “I’m looking forward to it. My aunt said you do mostly mystery novels. Do you ever do other genres?”
“We pretty much limit it to mysteries. You interested?”
“Sure.”
“We’re meeting tonight at the Eisenhower Center. Why don’t you get Judy to bring you?”
“I’ll do that. Sounds like fun.”
“Hi, Ruth.” Judy Ferguson had walked up. “How’re you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected,” Ruth said. “It’s hard losing a friend.”
“I see you’ve met my niece, Jade.”
“I have. I was just inviting her to our book club meeting tonight.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” J.D. said. “Were you close?”
“Very. We’d been friends for many years. We used to work together in Atlanta.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It must be a great loss. May I ask what kind of work you did?”
“We worked in a library. Liv grew up in Buckhead where all the rich people live and had inherited a lot of money. She didn’t need to work, but she did it to keep busy, I think. We became very close. She became a best-selling writer, you know.”
“Wow,” J.D. said. “That’s great. Maybe I’ve read one of her books. What’s her name?”
“Olivia Lathom. She was murdered last week. Right here in The Villages. Killed by one of our book club members.”
“Accused,” Judy said.
“She did it,” Ruth said.
“We’ll see,” Judy said. “I don’t think Esther did it.”
“Any way you look at it,” J.D. said, “it’s tragic.”
“Yes,” Ruth said. “We’ll be talking about Liv’s book tonight. It’s going to be hard.”
“What’s the name of the book?” J.D. asked.
“Beholden,” Ruth said.
“You know, Ruth,” Judy said, “we don’t have to do that book tonight. We can do it later when your loss isn’t so raw.”
“I don’t think Liv would want us to change our plans. And, it might make me feel better to talk about her.”
Ruth turned back to J.D. “It’s been nice meeting you, Jade. Where are you from?”
“Miami. How about you?”
“I lived just outside Atlanta most of my life. My husband and I moved down here when he retired. I’m afraid I’ve become a golf widow. Are you married?”
“Yes,” J.D. said, “but I’m in the process of getting divorced.”
“I hope it’s not too unpleasant.”
“I wish it weren’t.”
“Bad, huh?”
“Pretty bad.”
“Do you have any children, Jade?”
“No. I guess that’s a good thing, given the circumstances. Do you have children?”
“Yes. Three. They’re spread all over the country. We see them on holidays sometimes and that’s about it. Gotta go. Get Judy to bring you to the meeting tonight.”
“Count on it, Ruth. Nice to meet you.”
That was kind of a bust, J.D. thought. She didn’t really learn anything. She thought about it for a moment, called over one of the part-time girls who worked in the store, and asked her to cover the register while she used the restroom. She went to the back of the store, past the small sign that said, “staff only,” and entered the ladies restroom. She shut the door and called Jock.