Murder at Barclay Meadow (19 page)

He laughed heartily. “You're funny. Do you realize that?”

I sipped my wine. “I have my moments.”

Our dinner plates were removed and replaced with dessert wine in small crystal glasses and a round of glazed cr
è
me br
û
l
é
e.

“I'm also interested in the differences in sexual triggers according to age and time of life.” His arm was still behind my chair. My scalp tingled as he continued to fondle my hair.

“I believe our triggers change over time,” he continued. “Now that I'm no longer looking for the best mother for my children, I'm attracted to other things besides the traditional hip-to-waist ratio.” He gave my body a once-over. “Although a lovely figure never goes unnoticed.”

“Oh.…” My face warmed.

He leaned in and sniffed the lock of hair between his fingers. “Scent is an important trigger, too. Don't you think?”

I flattened my back against the chair. He was so close, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. The waiter returned with a tumbler of vodka.

“And let's not forget taste,” he continued. “That's an important one, too, especially for men.”

My mouth fell open.

Nick dipped a spoon into the cr
è
me br
û
l
é
e and slid it into his mouth. I watched as he slowly removed it, seemingly savoring every flavor. He shut his eyes. “Mmm,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “You were saying there are age differences in desire?”

He set his spoon on the tablecloth, looked over at me, and smiled. “Yes. But not just after child-bearing years. For instance, a girl who isn't in the market for a husband yet will be attracted to a different sort of boy. Doesn't every girl have to have at least one ‘bad boy' in her life?”

“Of course,” I said. “The guy in the leather jacket.”

“They don't always wear leather jackets,” he said.

“True. Some don't wear jackets at all.” I eyed his silk shirt. “But mine wore a denim jacket and smoked unfiltered Camels. He had long, lovely hair and sang Cat Stevens songs to me.”

“There you go. Funny again.” He picked up his glass and took a long swig of vodka.

“Time for carols around the piano.” Janice stood before us. “Rose Red? Dr. Nick? You think you can break it up long enough to sing?”

“Of course.” I scooted my chair back.

Nick reached for my hand. “I have thoroughly enjoyed our conversation, Rosalie.”

“Yes.” I stood and pulled my hand from his. “I've enjoyed it, as well. I can't believe dinner is over so soon.”

I followed Janice to the piano. “You go from one doc to the other,” she hissed.

“They couldn't be any more different from one another.” I tried to keep up in my heels. “Opposite ends of the man spectrum, if there is such a thing.”

She stopped and turned around. I almost ran into her. “Dr. Nick is a womanizer,” she said. “He has a reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?” I said. “Married women? Younger women?” I hesitated. “Students?”

“All of the above.”

“Really?
Students?
”

“Oh, yeah. But the college keeps it quiet. They're trying to rein him in.”

“Good luck with that.”

She started walking again. I tried to hide my giddiness at the information she had just disclosed. She stopped abruptly and turned to face me again. “You know your problem, Rose Red?”

“Which one? I have many.”

“You have to stop reacting to everything. You're not a victim, you know? You've got to be
pro
active.” I looked up at her. “If you're only reacting to things, you give away your power. Get it?”

“Janice, I'm really trying. It's just a rough time of year.”

She rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”

After the first round of “Deck the Halls” I headed for the coat closet. I wondered if Janice would consider this being proactive. I looked back at the party. Dr. Phil was arm in arm with another woman.
Fa la la la la …
His teeth really were perfect.

I shut the door and headed to my car, concentrating hard on not twisting my ankle in the gravel.

“Oh.” I stopped abruptly. Nick was leaning against my car, his ankles crossed, his hands in the pockets of his dark wool overcoat.

“That's my car.”

“I know,” he said.

“Of course you do.” My breath crystalized in a puffy silver cloud. “There is no anonymity in Cardigan, Maryland.”

“There's nothing anonymous about this car.” He patted the door. “Something tells me a woman who drives a car the color of lipstick has another side. A side I think I would like.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Why wouldn't he move? What was he doing? “Well…” I faked a yawn. “I'm really tired.” I fished my keys out of my clutch.

“What's the rush?” Before I could speak, Nick slipped his hands into my coat, held my hips, and pulled me to him. His lips, cool from the December air, were on mine.

I pushed him away. “What are you doing?”

“What I've been thinking about doing all night.”

I placed my hand on my forehead. “You were?”

He stepped closer. “You should button your coat. You'll catch a chill.” His fingertips brushed against the wool as he slowly buttoned my coat. My nerve endings, on red alert, acknowledged every point of contact.

“There,” he said. “All buttoned up. You okay to drive?”

“Yes,” I said. “Are you?”

He cocked his head. His eyes glistened in the dim light of Janice's portico. “Shall I follow just to be sure?”

“No. I'm fine. Really.” I waited for him to move.

“You're never going to take my class, are you?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. Why did you say that?”

“I don't think you ever intended to. I think you just wanted to meet me.”

“No.” I stepped back. My heels crunched the gravel. “I was interested.”

“You,” he chuckled, “are a lousy liar.”

A small chime from my phone sounded in my purse, signaling my connection to the rest of the world. He stepped out of the way.

As I climbed into my car, he leaned in and nuzzled my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You have secrets,” he whispered. He backed away and I grabbed the door. “Till next time,
ma ch
é
rie,
” he called. My hands trembled as I fumbled with my keys. At last the engine roared awake. I looked out at Nick. He was watching me, a thin, sly smile on his lips.

As I drove the short distance home, I tried to slow my heart rate. Maybe Janice was right. I've got to get some control. What if he had climbed in the car? What if he had followed me? I clicked on the blinker. As I started to turn onto the lane, a pair of headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. My nerves went into lockdown. No one traveled this road unless they had a good reason, especially this late at night. Nick? Oh my gosh, I lived alone. He could follow me into the house. He said I had secrets. He knows I know about Megan. I parked under a cypress tree and killed the lights. I waited in the moonless night. An owl shrieked and dipped low over the roof of my car. I instinctively hunched my shoulders. I waited, but the lights never reappeared.

 

T
WENTY
-
FOUR

I stopped typing. I just said “kill again.” I remembered Nick's kiss, his breath hot on my neck, his hands on my coat.
You have secrets,
he'd said.

Shoot. How could I be so careless?

As soon as I signed off I clicked on my profile, scrolled down to my original first two posts, and clicked “delete post.” I stared at the screen for a long time. Had he looked? Did he know?

I logged out and signed on as Megan. I scrolled through her friend list and there he was—the gap in his front teeth, a subdued, studious smile on his face. Oh, how I wished I could have a conversation with Megan. Help me, I thought. Point me in the right direction.

 

T
WENTY
-
FIVE

Annie Hart

See you Christmas AM Mom! Love you!!!!!!!!!

I clicked “like.”

Amy Levengood

Carols and Nog! Meet at the gazebo at 6. Dinner to follow at my house.

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My heart sank. Amy was my best friend in Chevy Chase. Every year our neighborhood caroled together Christmas night, begging for spiked egg nog and warm appetizers. After carols, we gathered at my house, where I would serve a buffet of ham, potatoes au gratin, corn bread, cranberries, my signature homemade Caesar salad. I had collected enough ornaments over the years to decorate two full-size trees and I filled every available space with poinsettias, white pine roping, twinkling lights, and velvet ribbon. Christmas had always been my absolute favorite time of year. I loved the warm fires, the baking, the scent of pine throughout the house, the shopping, and, more than anything, the giving. I prided myself on finding the perfect gift for everyone on my list, remembering the hints and wishes dropped throughout the year.