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“Will you tell Rosie about this, or do you plan to keep Ginger’s confidence as she asked you to?”
I studied Al’s face, eager to get his take on the matter, but was unable to read his expression. His eyes were fixed firmly on the road as we headed for home. I’d been mulling this over in my mind these past twenty minutes and still hadn’t come to a decision.
“I think I’ll say nothing for the time being. Rosie’s my best friend, but Ginger’s a grown woman and entitled to her privacy. Besides,” I tried to rationalize, “it’s not like Rosie can stop Ginger from spending time with Lowell. And a lecture from her mother might push her into his bed.” Though her mother might hate me for not telling her, and never speak to me again.
“I think that’s wise,” Al murmured.
Because of my agitated state, I barely heard him. “What an idiot I was, coming on like the morality police! I had no right to rip into them like that, humiliating poor Ginger.” I sniffed. “Though I don’t give a damn about his feelings.”
Al tried to jolly me back into good humor. “You were like Wonder Woman driving them from the beach.”
“More like whichever angel it was that drove Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden.”
“It wasn’t quite that dramatic.”
“Thank God.” I offered Al a small smile. After a bit, I said, “But who knows what they’re up to right now. Maybe they’re having sex just to spite me.”
Al cleared his throat. “Did you ever consider their trip to the beach came about exactly as they said it did?”
“Oh, I believe it started off that way. Lowell noticed Ginger crying in the library and got her talking about what was wrong in her life.”
“Why do you think they’re on the verge of an affair?”
I shrugged. “Human nature.”
Al reached for my hand. “I think you’re too cynical about human nature. It can get in the way of romance.”
I had no answer to that. We rode in companionable silence the rest of the way to Old Cadfield, our fingers entwined.
Ten minutes later, Al dropped me off at Sylvia’s house. He had some work to do, but we’d be getting together in the evening. The following day he was leaving for the Berkshires.
I spent the afternoon swimming in the pool and writing. Despite the unsolved murders and my angst about Ginger, I felt tranquil. We hadn’t stayed at the beach long enough for it to have sedated me, which left Allistair as the reason for my peaceful state of mind. His company, I was discovering, was both stimulating and calming.
I felt a moment of panic at the thought of becoming dependent on his presence in my life. So often I’d fallen for a man only to lose him soon after. I didn’t want to grow too used to having Al around. Sure, I was cynical about human nature as he’d claimed. My life experience had taught me that no relationship remains static and enduring.
At a quarter to five, I gathered up my laptop and iced coffee and went inside. The phone rang as I was locking the sliding glass doors.
“Hello, Lexie? This is Lowell Hartman.”
I drew a deep breath. “Hello, Lowell.”
“You don’t sound happy to hear from me.”
“Does that surprise you?”
His laughter—a nice, rich sound—rumbled across the line. “Not as much as I was to see you this morning.”
“Sorry I came on like a scolding aunt, but Ginger’s my best friend’s daughter.”
“Lexie, we need to talk.”
His urgency changed the tenor of our conversation and sent shivers down my spine. “Fine. Talk away.”
“I mean face-to-face. May I come to your house?”
“No!” I all but shouted into the phone. “I—er have to get dressed. I’m going out soon.”
This time his laughter was sardonic. “I’m not the serial killer, Lexie, so you can put your mind at ease. I loved Anne. I’d never hurt her.”
“But you did hurt her, Lowell. Anne told me so the night she was killed.”
He inhaled what must have been gallons of air. “Please meet me. I want to explain everything to you, so you’ll understand.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the only person in this entire farce who doesn’t have an ax to grind.” When I said nothing, he went on. “If you can’t meet me now, how about tomorrow morning? Early. There’s a diner close to the park where I run. I’ll treat you to breakfast. It’s a public place.”
I thought it over. A public place meant I’d be safe. “All right, Lowell. If you think it’s that important.”
He gave me the diner’s address and asked if eight thirty was too early.
“It is, but I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Lexie.”
Al wasn’t happy with my decision to meet Lowell, and tried to dissuade me from going as we drove to the restaurant.
“He might be the murderer.”
“He might be, but I doubt it.”
“He knows the route you’ll be taking. He could kill you while you’re on your way.”
“Why would he want to kill me?”
Al shrugged. “He’s angry. You humiliated him in front of Ginger, and sent him home with his tail between his legs.”
“A hell of a motive for killing someone.”
Al pursed his lips and looked at me. “I’m perturbed.”
I took his hand. “I don’t want you to be perturbed. What can I do to ease your worry? Besides not going, that is.”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not! You’re leaving at seven for the Berkshires, just as you planned.”
I thought a moment, then said, “I’ll call when I start out to meet Lowell. And I’ll leave the phone on the entire time I’m with him. This way we’ll be in constant touch.”
“What good will that do?”
“I’ll tell him what I’m doing. And if anything happens on the way, you’ll hear what’s happening.”
“It’s far from perfect,” he complained.
“But you’ll be a witness to everything. If Lowell turns dangerous, as I doubt he will, I’ll tell him you’re on the line.”
We arrived at the restaurant just as it was beginning to fill up. A handsome maître d’ greeted Al warmly and showed us to a table on the deck inches above the sand. We sat side by side, gazing out at the Long Island Sound. A breeze lifted a lock of my hair. Al reached out to tuck it behind my ear. My ear tingled from his touch. He reached for my hand, and we sat like that until our waiter brought us giant menus. Al asked for a bottle of Santa Margarita pinot grigio. The waiter noted his request and disappeared.
Our wine arrived and was decanted. We both ordered lobsters, then sat back savoring our wine, each other, and the view.
We said little as we devoured our lobsters, then relaxed over coffee and a shared dessert. Darkness fell, and tiny lights strung across wires came to life, along with candles at every table. The temperature had fallen. I huddled inside my shawl.
“Are you getting cold?”
“A bit,” I admitted, “but I love sitting out here. I don’t want to go inside.”
“We don’t have to.” He removed his jacket and placed it around my shoulders.
“Thank you.”
He reached over to kiss my neck. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered.
“Good.”
He chuckled. “I’ll call every day.”
Famous last words.