1
“And thus ends our section on Hawthorne.” Avis Simon-Smith, fiftyish, reed thin with large dark, baggy eyes, gave the students a narrow-lipped, insincere smile. “Dr. Chandler will be back tomorrow. I do hope you’ll all be especially nice to her after the tragic suicide of her father. As if she hasn’t had enough trouble this year.”
Miguel Perez closed his notebook and threw the woman a baleful look. Did she have to emphasize that Dr. Chandler’s father had committed suicide? Couldn’t she just have said “death”? And by mentioning Nicole’s “other” troubles, she was purposely reminding everyone of Roger Chandler’s affair. Miguel had taken Dr. Simon-Smith for one other class and not cared for her. Now he positively disliked her.
“I hope you’ve gained something from our sessions,” Avis went on in a falsely pleasant voice. Students had begun to rise from their seats but now collapsed back into them when they realized she wasn’t ready to shut up. “I’m sure you all know I walked into this class cold, no time for preparation, and I am teaching four other sections, which is a full load. It has been quite a strain, let me tell you, but I was glad to help out Dr. Chandler.”
Yeah, sure you were, Miguel thought.
The students started to rise again. Class was supposed to have ended two minutes ago, but Avis continued. “Now that I’ve imparted to you an appreciation of Hawthorne, I hope all of you will read The Scarlet Letter.”
“I think I’ll rent the movie,” one student wisecracked, leaving although they hadn’t formally been dismissed. “I’d rather see Demi Moore rolling around naked in the hay than read about some chick in a gown with a giant A sewed on her chest.”
Other students twittered, but Avis Simon-Smith was not amused. She was rarely amused by anything she hadn’t said, and she shot the student a withering look, which went unnoticed by almost everyone piling out of the room.
Later in the day, as Miguel prowled an upper hall of the Humanities and Business Building searching for Nicole’s office so he could slip a “Welcome Back” card under her door, he passed Dr. Simon-Smith standing in the hall talking to another professor whose name he thought was Silver. The woman looked slightly younger than Avis and carried a load of papers under her arm. Just as Miguel located Nicole’s door, Avis began speaking loudly.
“I simply get sick of all the breaks she gets around here, Nancy.” Fretful lines made her thin, plain face look almost ugly. “When I started here, I was allowed to teach only Basic English and Composition for two years. Two full years. But she prances in with her pretty face and blond hair and good figure and in the second semester she’s teaching Major American Writers.”
The other woman, balancing her own papers and a mug of coffee, gave her a placating smile. “Avis, you must remember that we had a different department director when you came. He had a few pets and they got all the good classes. The rest of us were treated like dirt. Thank God he didn’t last long.”
Miguel hovered at Nicole’s door, pretending to study the office hours posted. Then he stole a look as Avis shifted to her other foot, planting a hand on a razor-sharp hipbone. “Oh, Nancy, you know she’s getting preferential treatment. A whole week off because of a death in the family! And is it fair for a totally inexperienced teacher to be given Major American Writers?”
Another stolen look told Miguel that Nancy Silver looked uncomfortable. “Avis, you got a week off when your mother died. And Nicole isn’t inexperienced.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Avis sneered. “She taught one whole year in Ohio.”
“And she had an article published on Fitzgerald in a prestigious journal.”
“I read it. Trash. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Avis paused. “I’m beginning to wonder if she’s as free with her sexual favors as her husband. If so, unlike Roger she has the sense to give herself to administrators, not students. Maybe that’s why she’s doing so well in the department.”
Miguel’s fists clenched. Jealous bitch. Suddenly he realized she was staring at him. “Did you need something, young man?”
He met her eyes, his own cold. “No. I was just leaving something for Dr. Chandler.” He bent to slip the card under the door.
“Stop! That should be taken to the office.”
“I’d rather leave it here.”
“I said it shouldn’t be left there.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Down the hall in the office.”
Miguel shoved the envelope under the door, stood, and walked past her without a word.
“Honestly!” Avis huffed. “Some of these Mexican kids are so arrogant!”
“Avis!” the other woman gasped. “What an awful thing to say. He heard you!”
“I don’t care. It’s true and he knows it.”
“Avis, you’ve been a friend for a long time, but you’re getting out of control. The department director has already spoken to you about your unseemly comments.”
“As if I care what he thinks! I should have his job and he knows it.”
Nancy Silver shook her head. “A word of advice, Avis. If you don’t tone yourself down, one of these days that bitter tongue of yours is going to land you in big trouble.”
2
Shelley was in her bedroom, supposedly asleep, but probably watching something totally unsuitable on television. Nicole knew she should check, but it was nine-fifteen and she sat at the kitchen table, frantically composing her introductory lesson on Melville. She’d planned to have it done an hour ago so she could go over material for her other classes, then get to bed early, but the talk with her mother had destroyed her concentration for the rest of the afternoon. She felt as if she’d had a conversation with a woman she’d lived with over half her life yet never knew.
Now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t add electricity to her lecture. This was the first section of Major American Writers she’d taught and she wanted to do a good job, not send everyone out of class vowing never to read Emerson or Melville or James again. “Maybe you’re just trying too hard,” she muttered. “This is a lecture on serious subject matter, not a tabloid article.”
The knocker tapped lightly against the front door. “Oh, great,” Nicole groaned. She looked down at the gray sweatsuit she’d slipped into earlier when she thought a brief session of exercise might charge up her mind as well as her body. She stood, looking down at her heavy gray socks. Reeboks lay discarded somewhere in the living room along with her ten-pound weights, and she knew her hair was stringing down from its ponytail. Oh, well, it was probably only Roger here to pick a fight. Just what she needed.
She looked out the peephole in the door to see a surprising face. Opening the door, she was aware of alarm in her eyes. “Sergeant DeSoto! Is anything wrong?”
He smiled. “I wish my visits didn’t immediately strike terror.”
She returned his smile. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t a very polite greeting.”
“I’m used to it. Actually, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give you some information.”
She opened the door. “Come in. I’m afraid both the house and I are a mess.”
“I should have called before I came. Besides, you look fine.”
“Have a seat,” Nicole said, motioning toward the awful brown furniture. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“Only if you’re having something.”
“I’ve been drinking coffee all evening and I’m wired tight. I think I could use a glass of wine. How about you, or are you on duty?”
“I’m not on duty and wine sounds great. Whatever kind you’re having.”
As she passed a mirror on the way to the kitchen, she cringed. She looked even worse than she thought, no makeup, tired circles under her eyes, an ink smudge on her cheek. She turned off the laptop computer, dashed to the sink and scrubbed at the ink mark with a wet paper towel. She thought she heard a faint groan from the living room. DeSoto trying to settle onto the voluminous, consuming furniture.
She poured the wine and when she walked back to the living room, DeSoto was sitting on the couch, his legs stretched in front of him, flipping through a copy of Vanity Fair. He laid it aside and accepted the wine, smiling again. He really was good-looking, she thought, although she didn’t agree with Shelley that he looked like Jimmy Smits.
“I apologize for dropping by like this. I have a feeling I’m interrupting something.”
“I’ve been driving myself crazy all evening over a lecture. Tomorrow is my first day back at school. But don’t apologize. I needed a break.”
“All right. I’ll try to be as brief as possible.” He took a sip of his wine, then began casually. “Today I read the report about your intruder.”
“I’m surprised such a trivial matter crossed your desk.”
“Normally it wouldn’t, but because of your father’s death…well, anyway, I saw that it wasn’t the first time you’ve had a visitor.”
“Our werewolf, my daughter Shelley calls him. He wears a wolf mask.”
“So I heard. I also learned that he’s entering the yard by climbing a tree, then sliding down a rope. But that’s not what interested me the most.” Nicole tensed, certain that she was about to get a lecture about pointing her gun and the dangers of civilians owning handguns, although she couldn’t remember mentioning it to the policemen who were here last night. “It’s the dog.”
This was worse than the gun. Nicole swallowed. “The big dog that bit the intruder?” she asked innocently.
“Yes. We did a check of local hospitals and no one came in last night with an animal bite, so apparently the dog didn’t do any real damage.” He paused. “There were no fingerprints on the ID tag, but it gave an address in Olmos Park. The numbers were scratched, but we finally made them out.” Nicole stared at him, her mouth dry as sand. “Mrs. Chandler, I know all about what happened to you fifteen years ago and your relationship with Paul Dominic.”
“Oh,” she said weakly.
“The address on the tag is that of Alicia Dominic, Paul’s mother.” Nicole opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “But then you knew that, didn’t you?”
Nicole swallowed again and finally found a thin version of her voice. “I didn’t know. I just suspected.”
“Why would you suspect that the dog belonged to Alicia Dominic?”
Nicole took a deep breath. “I don’t think it belongs to Mrs. Dominic. I think it belongs to Paul.”
For the first time DeSoto showed surprise. “Why do you think that?”
“I believe I saw him at my father’s funeral.” DeSoto raised his eyebrows. “He was at a distance with a dog. And then there was a call the other night.” She described the contents of the call threatening to give Roger a warning and the man calling her chérie.
When she finished, DeSoto looked at her dubiously. “Mrs. Chandler, have you been in contact with Paul Dominic in the last fifteen years?”
“No.”
“You do know that he’s presumed dead.”
“ ‘Presumed’ being the key word as far as I’m concerned.”
DeSoto sipped his wine, then gazed at her seriously. “Are you absolutely certain you saw Paul Dominic at the funeral and heard his voice on the phone?”
Under DeSoto’s probing brown eyes, Nicole’s confidence flagged. “Well, he was standing some distance away, and as I said, I haven’t seen or spoken to him for a long time. But it looked like him and it sounded like him on the phone. No one else has ever called me chérie.”
“I see.” DeSoto looked away from her, focusing on the aquarium. “That’s beautiful.”
“I think so.” Nicole stared at the neon tetras, red moons, black mollies, painted glassfish, and kissing fish. Plastic ferns waved gently against the blue gravel and various shades of coral on the bottom, and bubbles from the aerator rose beyond the castle, the skull, the diver, and the catfish hovering above the gravel. “The fish always look so calm.”
DeSoto nodded but remained quiet. Finally Nicole said, “I feel like you have something else to tell me.”
“It’s not much. I went to the Dominic house today.”
“Oh.” Nicole was nonplussed. “I would have thought you’d just call.”
“Sometimes you learn more from a personal visit than from a phone call.”
Which is why you’re here tonight, Nicole thought. “So what did you learn?”
“I only talked to the housekeeper.”
“Rosa?”
“You know her?”
“Not really. I just remember her. She’s been there forever. She never liked me.”
DeSoto smiled. “She doesn’t seem like the type who likes anyone.”
“Except Mrs. Dominic.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. She certainly acts like a pit bull protecting the woman.”
“She wouldn’t let you see Mrs. Dominic?”
“No. The housekeeper said she’s an invalid—a weak heart. She suffered a stroke last year.”
“How sad. She’s not very old. Did it appear that anyone else lived in the house besides Rosa and Mrs. Dominic?”
“I didn’t get past the entrance hall. The place looked fairly neglected, though, and it was quiet as a tomb.”
When it used to vibrate with music, Nicole thought, remembering an evening when she’d held a white rose and listened to “Rhapsody in Blue” throb from huge stereo speakers. She wondered how long it had been since music had soared down the house’s halls.
“What did you find out about the dog?” she asked.
“Nothing. The housekeeper claims they never had a dog, even when Paul was young.”
“And the other boy?”
“What other boy?”
“Rosa had a son. Juan. He was quite a bit younger than Paul.”
DeSoto shook his head. “I didn’t know anything about another boy and she didn’t mention him. I don’t think it would have made any difference, though. The woman was adamant—no dog, ever. Looking around the grounds, I didn’t see any signs of a dog.”
“I didn’t, either.” DeSoto glanced at her questioningly. “Okay, I took a spin past the house earlier today,” she admitted.
“Did you go to the door?”
“Heavens, no! I haven’t even been in Olmos Park since…well, let’s just say I didn’t have any desire to linger.” She paused. “Do you believe Rosa about the dog?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would the dog be wearing a tag listing the Dominic address?”
“It could have been a mistake. One digit wrong could make a big difference.”
“But what about my seeing a big dog with a man who looked like Paul, then finding the Dominics’ address on the ID tag? Doesn’t that seem like a bit of a coincidence to you, Sergeant DeSoto?”
“It’s Raymond. Ray.” He glanced down at his wine glass, then looked at her solemnly. “No one has seen Paul Dominic for fifteen years. Do you know how unlikely it is that he would suddenly turn up in San Antonio after all this time and come to your father’s funeral?”
“You don’t believe me,” she said, her disappointment obvious.
Ray’s eyes strayed from hers, back to the aquarium. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m just saying what you’re thinking is unlikely. However,” he added, suddenly smiling at her, “unlikely isn’t synonymous with impossible.”
Nicole let out a big sigh. “Thank goodness you’re not just dismissing me.”
“I would never do that. So you think the intruder in the wolf mask might be Dominic?”
Nicole frowned. “It crossed my mind, but now I’m sure it isn’t. I believe that dog wearing the ID tag with the Dominic address belongs to Paul. The intruder was attacked by that dog. Why would Paul’s own dog attack him?”
Ray twirled his glass in his hands. “Did you get a look at the dog that bit the intruder?”
“No. It was on the other side of the fence. But I’d seen the Doberman three times prior to that night and I’d noticed a brass tag hanging from its collar. I believe it was the tag the police found.”
“All right, let’s say it is the same dog, it belongs to the man you saw in the cemetery, and it wouldn’t attack him. Who do you think is coming into your yard wearing a wolf mask?”
“A prankster, I guess.”
“Maybe one of your students?”
“Maybe, although I don’t know who. Whoever it is, they don’t seem to want to do anything except scare us.”
Ray nodded. “You’re keeping all your doors and windows locked?”
“Absolutely.”
He nodded again, set down his wine glass, and gave her a penetrating stare. “If you’re convinced Dominic is alive and here in San Antonio, why are you so afraid? I thought the two of you were in love.”
“We were.”
“He’s a murderer.”
“That was never proved,” Nicole snapped, then softened. “I’m sorry. It’s just so hard for me to believe that Paul could commit two premeditated murders. Besides, all they had was circumstantial evidence. That and hearsay.” She sighed. “My statements being the most damaging. I’m afraid because he might think I ruined his life.”
“You didn’t,” Ray said firmly. “He killed those men in cold blood and then he ran, too cowardly to stand trial.”
“He did run,” Nicole said reluctantly. “But he was arrested because of me.”
“And because the murder weapon was found at his house.”
“Nevertheless, I made damaging statements to the police.”
“Statements that would have been considered hearsay.”
“But they were from the woman he loved. How would you have felt in his place?” She leaned forward, speaking intensely. “Ray, don’t you see that I did destroy his life? I’m afraid of him because what happened to him was because of me.”
“Mrs. Chandler, calm down,” Ray said gently.
Nicole became aware of how her voice had risen. She folded her hands in her lap and concentrated on slowing her breathing. “I’m sorry I lost control, but I’m certain Paul is back.”
“He may be, but the evidence is thin. Very thin.”
She looked at her folded hands and the gold wedding band it had never occurred to her to remove. “You’re right,” she said calmly.
“I’m glad you feel better.”
She raised her eyes. “I don’t feel better. I only meant you were right about the evidence of Paul’s return being thin.”
“So you still believe Paul Dominic is in San Antonio and he’s trailing you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, I can’t change your mind about that and I’m not going to try because there’s a chance it’s true. But it’s only a small chance. I’d say a thousand to one.” He smiled and rose. “I’ve taken up enough of your time for this evening. I’m sorry I upset you, Mrs. Chandler.”
She walked him to the front door. “Please call me Nicole, and you didn’t upset me. It was actually good to talk about this to someone besides my friend Carmen, even if neither one of you believes me.”
“I don’t disbelieve you. I’m just skeptical. It’s my nature.”
Nicole opened the door. She stared for a moment, then reached out and removed a long-stemmed white rosebud that had been tucked under the knocker.
Ray grinned. “You have an admirer who gives you white rosebuds?”
“Yes,” Nicole whispered. “Paul Dominic always gave me white rosebuds.”