Dying for a Change (23 page)

Sharon was the only one in. She was looking through the files in the cabinet behind Dottie’s desk.

“
Hi. Did you ever get in touch with Mr. Marburger?”

Evidently she hadn’t heard me come in for she started, when whirled around, papers from the file she was holding flying everywhere. She looked at me, ashen faced, and took a deep breath. “Oh, Ellen. It’s you.”

Who did she think it was? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, let me help you.”

I started to pick up papers, but Sharon was already on her knees, waving me away. “Never mind, I can get them.” She scooped them all into a folder, got up, and dropped everything into her brief case, which was open on Dottie’s desk. “I didn’t expect you today, Ellen. I didn’t expect anyone today.” She leaned against the desk, as if she needed it to support her. “I think Tom’s back at the police station, answering more questions, and Nicole’s useless. I haven’t seen Ray. Have you?”

“
This morning, at the service.”

“
The blasted phone keeps ringing,” Sharon went on, “all clients wanting to know if the office is going to stay open. Of course it’s going to stay open, but they’ve got to give us a few days. As soon as I get us reorganized--you wouldn’t like to stay and answer phones, would you?” She didn’t say this with much hope, and only shrugged when I said no.

“
I came down to collect some information for Alice Ives. I’m still going over there tomorrow to list her house.” I crossed my fingers, hoping that would stay true.

“
Oh.” Sharon’s face brightened. “Want some help?”

Did I! The phones went on answering service, the computers clicked on, printers spit out comparable sales and listings, and soon I had enough information to convince even twittery Alice of what we needed to do.

“
Thanks, Sharon.” I clutched the reams of information I had. “I really appreciate this.”

“
No problem.” Sharon snapped her briefcase shut and headed for the door. “Sort through all that, put the marketing information in one file, and all the forms and disclosures you need in another. You’ll be fine.”

It didn’t take long to finish. I stood up, stretched, collected my folders, and started to leave. My hand reached for the door handle, but it opened before I could touch it, and there stood Ray.

“
Oh.” I gasped and took a step back.

“
What’s the matter with you?” Ray’s face looked tense and drawn, but angry too.

“
Nothing. I was just, ah, what are you doing here?”

“
I work here.” He sounded bitter. Rude and bitter. “A word most people don’t seem to understand.”

“
For heaven’s sake, Ray.” I was stung by the accusation in his voice. “This has hardly been a normal week. Hank, then Dottie, now Tom’s a suspect, it hasn’t been easy.”

“
Maybe not.” He sounded as if saying that was a huge concession. “What are you doing here?”

I took another step back. He took one toward me. “Getting information for Alice Ives.” I wondered if I could edge around him and get out the door.

“
Right. You’re supposed to list her house, aren’t you? Need some help?” He reached out for the files I was clutching to my chest. “Let’s see what you’ve done.”

“
No.” I knew I was stammering but couldn’t help it. “Sharon helped me, it’s fine, and I’ve got to...” I darted behind Dottie’s desk, thinking only I had to get away from him, and slipped. Ray grabbed my arm, a little too hard, and snatched my files from me.

“
You’re going to drop all this stuff if you don’t put it in your briefcase.” He didn’t look as if he wanted to be helpful. He still looked angry and sour. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and headed back toward my own desk and the briefcase I’d forgotten. He followed me and handed me the folders. I thrust them in and started to snap the briefcase shut, when I realized Ray was still right behind me. I stiffened, and let my hand tighten on the handle of the case. If I swung it…

“
This yours?” Ray handed me a piece of paper. “It probably fell out of your folder.”

It was a piece of Harpers Land Sale stationary, with a list of names on it. Also one footprint. Mine. I stared at it, confused. It was the same list of names Dottie had left for Hank. Nice, neat list of partners down the left side, complete with addresses and phone numbers. Opposite some of the names, new ones, hand written, no addresses, no phone numbers. This was what I’d slipped on, but what was it doing on our office floor?

“
That yours, or not?” Ray demanded, holding out his hand for the paper.

“
Right. Sure.” I stuffed the paper in Alice’s file and snapped the case shut. “Thanks.” My hand was shaking. What was Ray going to do now? He turned, went to his own desk, and picked up the phone. My knees went weak with relief. I grabbed my case and ran out the door.

I stood in front of a closet again, only this time it was mine. I pulled clothes out of it, examined them, and shoved them right back in. Susannah and Jake sat on my bed, propped up against my pillows, watching.

“
I don’t know what the weather’s going to be like at the beach.”

“
Warmer than here,” she replied, pulling my quilt over her legs.

“
How dressed up do people get for these things?” I threw a skirt on the bed, slammed the closet closed, and pulled open the sweater drawer.

“
The Performing Art Center is at the college.” Susannah scratched Jake between the ears. He purred. “Jazz. Students. Wear anything.” She watched me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “You really like this guy, don’t you?”

“
Of course. We grew up together. Here. What do you think of this?” I had put together a neat little outfit of gray wool skirt, demure white blouse, navy blazer and low-heeled pumps.

“
You’re not applying for a job.”

I put everything back in the closet.

“
Don’t you have any nice pants?” She disentangled herself from Jake and the quilt. “I’ve got to get ready. You’re going to introduce me to this Dan before I go back, aren’t you? As the only child, it’s my responsibility to pass judgment.” Chuckling, she drifted out of my room and down the hall.

I thought about throwing my shoe at her, but instead pulled out my best slacks, topped them with my favorite oversized turtleneck sweater, the one that matches my eyes, found a scarf, and settled for loafers and pant socks. A little extra attention to makeup and hair, and I was ready when the doorbell rang.

“
Nice,” was all he said when he saw me, but it was enough. “Do you like clam chowder? There’s a place in Morro Bay that makes the best, and we have time. That okay?”

The drive over to the coast takes about thirty minutes and winds through a narrow canyon before it drops down beside the big Morro rock. We headed for a small place on the pier, and took seats at a window table overlooking the bay. The fishing boats were tied up securely for the night, their empty masts casting long shadows as they lazily bobbed up and down. The gulls had found their evening perches, and a faint breeze brought the tangy scent of saltwater and seaweed.

We were early. Only a couple of other tables were occupied, and the low light of the candle on ours, reflecting against the white of the cloth, created an island that we alone inhabited as we smiled at each other.

“
Hi,’ sounded a voice, neatly shattering the mood. “Menus? Been here before? Can I get you a drink?”

Throwing cholesterol caution to the wind, we ordered the chowder, deep fried halibut with french fries, cole slaw, and a half bottle of wine, with coffee to follow.

We talked. We talked about everything. I had forgotten how much fun that could be, to talk, to discuss, to argue a little. Brian and I had reached the point where our conversation was limited to “has the paper arrived?” or “will you be home to dinner? No?” I could have gone on talking for hours, but Dan looked at his watch, motioned for the check, and we were on our way inland.

The music was wonderful. I don’t know what I had been expecting, but not this exciting blend of professionals and students. As we were leaving, we met several couples Dan knew and chatted with them for a few minutes. I wondered if their curious glances were sizing us up as a possible couple, or if they recognized me as the notorious newcomer who tripped over dead bodies.

On the way home, I felt euphoric. The good food, excellent music, warm car and comfortable companionship were doing their job. I leaned my head back on the seat, turning slightly to smile at Dan. He smiled back. His sandy hair, lightly frosted with gray, fell over his left eye, just as it used to. I felt an almost overwhelming urge to reach up and gently smooth it back.

“
Having fun, Ellie?” he asked unnecessarily. He offered his right arm and I moved over, without even thinking, to nestle against him. We were back in town, I realized sleepily, as I allowed myself to burrow even more deeply into Dan’s side. It seemed so natural to be here beside him, almost home, almost asleep.

I woke up. I could feel myself stiffen, and I pulled away. Dan removed his arm and looked over at me. Was there a question in those slightly raised eyebrows? What question? What should I say?

All the years Brian and I had been married, I had never played around. Brian had, plenty. I’d been propositioned by his friends, advised by their wives to have my fun while there was still time, but I never did. It all seemed so tawdry. And now, I didn’t know what to do. Would Dan expect to come in? More to the point, would he expect to stay? The idea had appeal, a lot more than I had expected. That kiss the other night had started me thinking about feelings, desires I’d resolutely buried for years. But I wasn’t ready. It was too soon after my divorce. Or something.

We pulled up in front of my house. I felt frozen in my seat. Dan got out, moved around to my door and opened it.

“
Are you going to get out?” He took me by the hand and gave me a little pull. He gently propelled me up the front stairs, opened his hand for my key, slid open the door, reached around and turned on the hallway light. His face shown dimly against the dark of the porch, his expression tender, I was sure, and that damn hair was over his eye again. Maybe...

“
Did you a good time, Ellie?”

“
Oh, yes. I had a wonderful time. The food, the music, everything...”

“
Good,” he interrupted. “So did I. Want to do it again? Soon?”

Did I! “I’d love to.”

“
Good,” he said again. He slid his arm around me, pulled me close, and gave me a very hard, very long kiss. For a second or two I didn’t respond, but it didn’t take long. Just as I was getting into it, he let me go.

“
I’ll call you. Don’t forget to bolt the door.” He turned me gently and pushed me inside, then pulled the door closed behind him. I heard the car door slam, the engine start, and the car drive away.

I was paralyzed. The only thing moving was my emotions, taking turns turning cartwheels over each other. Sweet, thoughtful Dan. How like him to understand, to give me time to--what? Did he know how vulnerable I still felt? Was that it? That kiss hadn’t felt neighborly. It had felt--it had left me--. I hadn’t felt like this for a long time. I slipped off one shoe, then the other, and stared some more at the closed door. Had I wanted Dan to--come in? No, of course not. Yes, very much yes.

“
Damn.” I said out loud. “How am I supposed to know what I want?” I bent down and picked up my shoes as Jake came out of the living room. He looked at the shoes, then me, and fled up the stairs.

“
Isn’t that nice. I can’t even keep the cat in the same room with me.”

I had meant to make tea, but suddenly it seemed so tame. The brandy bottle sat beside the wine rack, looking at me. I don’t much like brandy, but tonight I was having some. I poured a tiny glass and then had no idea what to do. Susannah wasn’t back yet, so I couldn’t talk to her. The late night news would depress me more, and a cold shower didn’t sound a bit good. Finally, I took my glass upstairs, shoved Jake over, and propped myself up with my book. Susannah would be home soon, and we’d have nice long girl chat. “At least,” I thought as I opened the book, “I kept my bargain. We never mentioned murder.”

Somewhere a child was crying. Years of conditioning worked, and I instantly sat straight up. Freed, Jake stalked to the other side of the bed where he curled into a ball, tucking his injured tail under him.

“
Well, if you kept on your own side, I’d never have laid on it.” I slid back down, pulling the covers up over my face. It was Sunday and I had no intention of getting up early. However, the seductive smell of fresh coffee was on the air and it seemed to be coming my way. It was right under my nose.

“
Mom,” whispered a voice, “are you awake?”

“
I am now.” I sighed and struggled to sit up, not an easy task as Susannah was now on the edge of the bed balancing two coffee cups.

“
Here.” She handed me mine as I pushed a pillow behind my back. “How was last night? Did you have fun?”

“
Humn, yes. Lots of fun,” I allowed the memory to warm me along with the coffee. “How about you?”

Susannah watched me, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Did he kiss you?”

“
Susannah! Really.”

“
I knew he would.”

“
Yeah?” I did not want to go further down that path. “Did Neil kiss you?”