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Authors: Cheryl Norman

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BOOK: Reclaim My Life
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“Worse for that poor woman.”

“Yeah, I can’t argue with that.”

“Are you entertained by murder, gore, witchcraft, and the criminal mind?” Mouths dropped, and eyes widened at Elizabeth’s words. Good. She had their attention, at least for the moment. She’d had no idea if her approach would be effective, but it had worked on her as a student years earlier, and it’d worked today on her morning class.

She left the platform to pace in front of the students. “You’re here to study Shakespeare’s tragedy plays for the next ten weeks. Violence and suspense fans, you’re in the right class because this is the Shakespeare we’ll be reading this quarter.”

The inevitable smart-ass raised his hand and said, “I’m just here to get a humanities credit.”

Some of the students giggled. Elizabeth stared at the young man and cocked one eyebrow as she’d seen her grandmother do a thousand times. “Let’s hope you aren’t squeamish.”

The din receded. She returned to the podium, where she’d dumped her stack of handouts. Gripping the edge of the lectern, she drew a deep breath. “Where do Hollywood writers get ideas for popular films? Shakespeare.”

Their attention piqued, they listened to her opening class lecture, the one that put Shakespeare on familiar ground. “Those of you who previously studied the comedies with me remember the twins switched at birth.”

A student from her previous term called out,
“Comedy of Errors.”

“Right. Any of you see that old Bette Midler and Lily Tomlin movie,
Big Business?
Two sets of identical twins, switched at birth. Same story, just updated. This quarter we’ll study more familiar storylines.
Romeo and Juliet
, a well-known story retold countless ways, is perhaps most famously updated in the musical
West Side Story
. How about you sci-fi fans? Anyone remember a classic from the fifties
Forbidden Planet?”

The smart-ass nodded now, his expression changed from mildly bored to mildly interested.

She smiled at him. “Try reading
The Tempest
. Same story, different planet. And if you think the movie
The Departed
was violent, wait until we study
Titus Andronicus
. Shakespeare’s first drama has violence and gore that would trouble
today’s
censors.”

Movement by the door distracted her from the lecture. A face filled the door’s glass window. Not just any face, but the sharp angular jaw, blond hair, and strong nose suggestive of Norse roots. Wilson Drake.

She gathered her handouts and her composure. “Uh, but I’m getting ahead of our syllabus. Here are your assignments for this class. Please review them and be ready to discuss the setup for
Hamlet
on Friday.”

She concentrated on distributing the handouts, trying to ignore the butterflies in her chest. Why was Wilson here? The bigger question: Why did his visit to her classroom “throw her into a tizzy,” as her grandma was fond of saying?

Twice today she’d thought about her grandmother, and the ache in her chest replaced her nervous flutters. She missed her grandmother so much, just as she missed all of her family. And her horses. Oh, how she’d love to go riding again, but she couldn’t. Anything she loved or would normally enjoy was taboo. Deviating from her new persona even once could get her recognized. She lived life in a bizarre alternate universe.

She pushed aside her self-pity and dismissed the class. Gathering her notes and handouts, she slid them into her briefcase and waited for the sheriff to approach her. He pushed his way through the crush of exiting students toward the lectern, clutching a thin stack of paper.

“What brings you here, Sheriff Drake?”

“Ah, Elizabeth, darlin’, I keep telling you, you can call me Wil.” Mischief lurked behind his serious eyes.

“And you can address me as Professor Stevens,
Sheriff
. I’m on duty here.”

“So am I.” All mirth evaporated from his expression. “We need to talk. In private.”

The law wanted to talk to her? No! She’d been more than careful. She’d been perfect. What could she have done that betrayed herself? All the blood in her head seemed to drain to her feet. Her vision blurred. Grabbing the lectern, she steadied herself.

Her appearance must have alarmed him, because he gripped her elbow. “Hey, are you all right?”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, hoping to see his face frowning with concern. Instead, she saw suspicion.

Oh, dear God, he knows
.

CHAPTER TWO

Wil released her elbow but couldn’t rid himself of the questions flooding his mind. Elizabeth Stevens couldn’t be a murderer—he’d bet his career. So why did she look at him with guilt written all over her face? Judging from her reaction, he was sure she knew
something
about the Cathleen Hodges homicide. Except he hadn’t mentioned it yet. Did Elizabeth know they’d found her body?

“Is there someplace we can go, like your office?”

“Yes, my office.” She seemed to regain her composure. At least she no longer appeared about to pass out. “It’s upstairs.”

He followed her into the hall, then escorted her up the stairs to her second-floor office. The walk-in closet in the family house at Drake Oaks was no smaller than the windowless room. She flicked on the fluorescent lights on her way to her desk, where she dropped her briefcase on top. Scooting behind her desk to sit, she offered him the only other seat, a hard metal folding chair.

“What’s this about, Sheriff Drake?”

Tempted to push her to tell him why she’d nearly collapsed in her classroom, he forged ahead, focusing on his investigation. “It’s about Cathleen Hodges.”

“Cathleen? Is she all right? Kris said she hadn’t—”

“She’s dead.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a large
O
. “Oh, my God! What happened?”

“We’re waiting for the autopsy, but she appears to have died of a gunshot wound.” Wil watched her closely. Her shock seemed genuine, but what about her earlier reaction? Did she have her own reasons for avoiding his questions?

“Was it self-inflicted?”

“Why would you ask that?”

She avoided his gaze, paying an excessive amount of attention to the combination lock on her briefcase. “What’s the alternative—murder? Either scenario is terrible.”

“All I can tell you is we are investigating it as a homicide.” He slid a small notebook from his pocket. “I need to ask you about Friday evening. You may be the last person to have seen Cathleen Hodges alive.”

Her eyes filled, but she blinked furiously and held the tears at bay. He liked that in a woman. In fact, he liked too many things about Elizabeth Stevens. Nonetheless, he had to question her, his personal feelings aside. Before being elected county sheriff, Wil had been a detective. A damned good detective. He’d find out what—if anything—Elizabeth Stevens was hiding. Right now he needed to focus on his case.

“The four of us—Cathleen, Sunny, Kris, and I—get together about every week for a girl’s night out. Nothing wild. No bar hopping or anything. Just dinner and talk. Laughs.” She shrugged and met his gaze. “We usually go downtown to the Hurricane Lantern, although a few times we’ve driven over to White Springs to eat at the Telford Hotel.”

“But last Friday you ate at the Lantern, right?”

“Yes. Sunny usually organized our get-togethers, depending on Ian’s work schedule.”

“The four of you were new to Drake Springs, right?”

Elizabeth nodded. “That was our bond. None of us knew anyone else here, so we gravitated to each other as newbies.”

“How did you first meet?”

“Sunny and I met at the bookstore on campus and struck up a conversation about where to buy house wares in town—you know, stuff like dish drainers, paper towel holders, and such—and I invited her to go with me to the dollar store that afternoon. Her husband met us for dinner at the Hurricane Lantern, which was the first time I’d eaten there. I’d mistaken it for a beer joint.”

“Well, it does look rustic on the outside.”

“Rustic? That’s putting it mildly. Anyway, that’s how Sunny and I became friends. We take turns cooking for each other one night a week, and then we go out one night a week with Kris and Cathleen.”

“So how did you hook up with them to start the weekly dinner thing?”

“Ian’s cat got sick, so I rode with them to take the cat to the vet, who turned out to be Cathleen Hodges. Her practice was new, and she needed to spread the word that she was open for business. Sunny and I offered to pin up business cards around campus. We both sensed that Cathleen didn’t really have friends in town, so we invited her to join us for dinner the following Friday. Anyway, Cathleen did all she could for Bebo, but he had to be euthanized.”

“And Kris Knight? How did she come to be part of your foursome?”

“The very Friday night we rode over to The Telford Hotel in White Springs—”

“Your first outing with Cathleen Hodges?”

“Yes. So that night at dinner, we saw a woman dining alone at the next table. We felt sorry for her and asked her to move to our table.”

“Sunny’s husband didn’t go?”

“No, he does a lot of systems maintenance routines at night, which is why Sunny’s on her own.”

“Then you, Sunny, and Cathleen invited a lone diner to your table. Was that Kris Knight?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Turns out she had just moved to Drake Springs, too. She teaches English at the high school. She fit right in, and we made plans to meet again the next week. You know the rest.”

“Okay, so this past Friday night you met for dinner at the Hurricane Lantern. Did anything out of the ordinary happen, like overly friendly advances by other patrons or any altercations with other customers? Anything like that?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Not a thing. To an outsider, it would’ve been boring dinner conversation.”

“I need for you to tell me everything about that night, even the dinner conversation.”

“I’ll tell you what I remember, but you’ll need to ask Sunny and Kris, too.”

“I’ll be talking with them.”

Elizabeth inhaled a lengthy breath, then slowly exhaled. “Kris arrived first and got us a table. I don’t know how long she’d been there when I arrived—”

“What time was this?”

“We’d agreed to meet at six. I was about ten minutes early. Anyway, Kris and I ordered iced tea—” She gave him a brief smile. “Not the alcoholic variety. I told you we were real party animals. Anyway, we had our drinks by the time Cathleen came in. Sunny arrived last, right at six. You sure you want all these details?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Well, I think Cathleen ordered a Diet Coke. Sunny wanted ice water with lemon. I think. I mean, how important is it to know what we ordered?”

“Tell me everything. I’ll decide what’s important.”

The contents of Cathleen’s stomach, for instance, could help determine how long after Friday’s dinner she’d died.

“I ordered one of those big fried Vidalia onions and shared it with everyone for our appetizer. Then our waitress, whose name was Joyce—I remember because we ask for her anytime we go to the Lantern. She’s great.”

“I know her.” He made a note to question Joyce Winston. Her husband, Devon, was one of Wil’s deputies. “So what about Joyce?”

“She told us about the special, which was deep-fried catfish fillets with cheese grits, green beans, and sliced tomatoes. Cathleen and I got the special, Kris ordered the barbeque chicken plate—I believe that came with slaw and fries—and Sunny ordered hamburger steak with mashed potatoes smothered in a mushroom-and-onion gravy.” She paused, then added, “Cathleen and I chose wisely. The catfish was amazing.”

He jotted down details of the meals. At least the women weren’t obsessive dieters on their night out. On second thought, he’d never seen Elizabeth fixate on dieting. She seemed comfortable with her curves. In fact, there didn’t seem to be a vain bone in her body, which was one more thing to like about her.

Focus, pal
. “What did you talk about during dinner?”

“Gasoline prices and whether we were better off to visit the nearest mall in Valdosta or pay shipping prices and order online.” At his nod, she continued. “I said I preferred mail-order because even if it didn’t save money, it saved time. Sunny and Kris agreed that I failed to grasp the female ritual of going shopping. Cathleen contended that frequent online shoppers were often rewarded with a free-shipping offer, in which case she sided with me. And your eyes are glazing over.”

He grinned. “Are not. I’m fascinated, really.” Unfortunately he’d heard nothing that helped his murder investigation. “What else did you discuss? Seriously, it could be important.”

“All right. Let me see.” She chewed her bottom lip and frowned. “We discussed our … this is a bit embarrassing—”

“Sorry, but I need to know.”

Elizabeth removed her glasses, rubbed her eyes, then slid the glasses back on. “We debated at what age a woman should give up on having children. You see, only Sunny is married, and she’s the youngest of us at twenty-nine. The rest of us are on the downhill side of thirty-five, and you know what they say about the ol’ biological clock.”

BOOK: Reclaim My Life
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ads

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