Dangerous Relations (10 page)

"Stop it! You're man-starved, is what you are. And you've no right taking it out on
Brett."

She'd accepted his offer despite her better judgment. He was Suziette's widower, after all.
Leonie's Daddy. And he was bound to be furious, once he found out she intended to fight him for
Leonie. Most likely, he'd never speak to her again.

But she couldn't bring herself to disappoint him after seeing his pain when she hadn't
answered his question. His delight when she said yes made her want to turn cartwheels. Now, alone
in her aunt's house, her moment of euphoria evaporated like smoke, and she was back in the
doldrums.

"Get a grip, girl. It's not the end of the world."

She turned away from the window and wandered aimlessly through the downstairs rooms.
It was only eight o'clock and she was as restless as a tigress pacing its cage.

Elvira, her aunt's cleaning woman, had done her usual A-one cleaning job. The kitchen
counters were spotless, the furniture dust-free, and everything was in its place. Ardin poured
herself a glass of water and carried it upstairs.

She tossed her jacket on her bed and noticed the small room looked less cluttered. Elvira
had taken the odds and ends from the room and put them--where? Curious, Ardin wandered into
Leonie's little-girl room. No sign of them there. She went into Suziette's old room, which looked
exactly as it had the night before. She slid open one door of the shallow closet. There were the old
lamp and vase, the three or four pictures, leaning against the wall.

A few articles of clothing that Suziette had discarded almost a decade ago still hung on
metal hangers. Compelled to keep on searching--for what, she had no idea--Ardin pulled open the
top drawer of her cousin's old bureau. It held two pairs of bikini panties, their elastic well stretched,
and a lacy bra. The two drawers below were empty.

A folded blanket took up most of the bottom drawer. Ardin lifted up the four corners of the
blanket, then felt along the wooden bottom of the drawer.

Playing detective?
she mocked herself as she slid her hand between the folds
of the blanket. She gasped when her fingers touched a hard, flat surface. She pulled out a
small notepad with a metal spiral across the narrow top. It was the type of pad they'd used
to write down homework assignments in high school.

Excited, Ardin sat down on the bed and flipped through the pages. There were no words,
no numbers on the ten or twelve pages Suziette had used, but she'd recorded something in this
notepad.

Each page had a heading of two capital letters. Probably some boy's initials. Below that
were slashes, marked off in groups of fives. The blood rushed to her face. She knew what they stood
for. No doubt the lowercase letters and smaller slashes represented variations on Suziette's sexual
proclivities.

At first the initials meant nothing to her. She had no idea who CQ could be. And where were
the initials RT for Randy Tarkman, Suziette's longest-lasting boyfriend? They'd gone together for six
months. Frustrated, Ardin ran through the pages again. The most tallies were on the first page
under the initials SU.

It came to her. Suziette, in her usual devious way, had moved the initials up a letter. S stood
for Randy, U for Tarkman. And CQ on the fifth page must be Bill Presley. Proud of her discovery,
Ardin flipped back to the second page. Her heart sank when she saw DN. Corey MacAllister. Who
else could it be?

A stabbing pain pierced her stomach, and she doubled up on the bed. It was stupid to feel
betrayed after all these years because Corey had been involved with Suziette before Ardin had ever
gone out with him. He was on the first page, too, which probably meant he was her first lover.

If their history went back that far, maybe Corey had always loved Suziette. Maybe he was
Leonie's father, and that had brought them together more recently. Ardin shuddered as she
considered Corey and his temper. Strangling someone to death was something only an angry
person could do.

The sound of the garage door opening sent her leaping from the bed. Was it the murderer?
Leonie's father looking for incriminating information Suziette had left behind? Ardin clutched the
notebook to her chest. Maybe he was after this!

She turned out the light and crossed the hall to peer out the window facing the front of the
house. A beat-up old van was parked in the center of the two-car driveway.

The driver had to have seen her car next to Aunt Julia's Cadillac. He knew she was inside
the house. Ardin's thoughts whirled. If he had access to the garage, he probably also had the key to
the house. Which meant in no time flat he'd be up the flight of stairs, hunting her down.

She had to get out. Ardin knew she'd have to chance the stairs. She listened carefully,
peered down the dark stairway. There was no sound or sight of the intruder. She sped down the
stairs and into the den, where she unlocked the glass door and stepped outside.

The cold air stung. Ardin wished she'd thought to put on her jacket. She kept close to the
shrubbery as she inched around to the front of the house. The sound of the closing garage door
made her jump. The sensible thing would be to run to a neighbor for help, but she had to see who
had come after her.

She forced herself to cross the driveway, but saw no sign of the intruder. When she saw the
man at the front door, with his finger pressed to the doorbell, she breathed a sigh of relief.

When she reached her ex-father-in-law, she tapped him on the shoulder. "Frank?"

He spun around, with his hand over his heart. "My God, Ardin! You nearly scared the living
daylights out of me."

"You did the same to me. What are you doing here?"

"Dropping off Suziette's things from the office. Brett didn't want them, but Julia did." He
handed her an automatic garage opener. "She had Elvira put this in the mailbox, so I could leave the
carton in the garage whenever I got the chance. I called before and you weren't in. When I opened
the garage and saw your car, I figured I'd let you know."

"I was out with Brett and Leonie. She's staying there tonight."

Frank reached out to squeeze her arm. "I'm glad you decided to stay in Thornedale, after
all."

"I'll be here for a while, taking care of Leonie," she said, careful not to give him any inkling
of her plans.

"I understand Suziette named you as successor guardian. I had no idea the two of you were
close."

Damn the man! Nothing escaped him.
Did he also know what size bra she wore?
"Closer than you'd guess," she said to get a rise out of him.

His look of surprise, almost of dismay, was deeply satisfying. She gave him a knowing
smile. "Suziette was my first cousin. She trusted me, Frank, to look after what was dearest to her
heart."

"You mean, Leonie."

"Of course." She remembered the notepad she'd just found, and decided it was an
omen--no, evidence Suziette had left behind to identify her murderer.

She looked boldly into Frank's eyes. "And to make sure her murderer's punished for his
crime."

"How do you intend to manage that? From what I hear, the police haven't a clue."

She heard the challenge beneath his mocking tone. Was he putting her down for playing
amateur detective, or fishing for anything she might know that might implicate his son? Her
intuition told her Frank would do everything in his power to protect Corey, and it filled her with
anger.

"Oh, there's evidence, all right."

The sight of his gaping mouth gave her deep satisfaction. "Good night, Frank."

She left him standing there and went inside.

Ardin enjoyed her first good night's sleep in weeks. She awoke early on a sunny morning
and decided to go for a run. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done any form of exercise,
and her body cried out for a good workout. She pulled on sweats, did a few stretching exercises in
the den, and hit the streets.

After starting at a gentle pace she picked up speed as she passed the well-manicured lawns
of the neighborhood. The Bradford Pear trees were in bud, and forsythia and daffodils added their
bright yellow offerings to the spring day.

An hour later she returned in high spirits. She showered, put on a skirt and sweater, and
ate a light breakfast.

Taking Suziette's notepad from its hiding place, she flipped through it as she
considered her next step. She rummaged through the drawers of Suziette's desk until she
found a few sheets of paper. She copied exactly what was on each small page, and slipped
the sheets between the blanket folds where the notepad had been.
Now
she'd deliver
the original to Detective Rabe.

The police station, located at the far end of Main Street, shared a parking lot with town hall
and the local court. Ardin grimaced as she approached the building. She did not look forward to an
encounter with Detective Rabe. But maybe he was out detecting somewhere, and she could hand
over her "evidence".

No such luck. The policeman behind the partition told her Detective Rabe was in his office.
He asked a few questions before making a call. A few minutes later an officer escorted her down a
narrow corridor.

Detective Rabe waved her in. "Take a seat, Ms. Wesley. Can I get you some coffee?"

When she shook her head and sat down, he said. "To what do I owe the honor of your
visit?"

"I'm staying at my aunt's house." She put the notepad on his desk. "I found this in a drawer
in Suziette's old room."

"Ah, playing detective, I see."

Ardin felt her face heat, but refused to rise to the bait.

"Let's see what you've brought me." He flipped through the pages. "Tally sheets of some
sort."

"Records of Suziette's sex life with her high school boy friends."

He fixed his beady eyes on her. "High school? How do you know?"

His insinuating tone irked her, but she was damned if she'd show it. "The years on the
cover correspond to her last three years of high school. I figured out her code. What the letters
stand for."

"Thank you for dropping it off."

Nettled by his lack of interest, Ardin rose. "I'll leave it with you then. You can work the code
out yourself."

She'd reached the door when Rabe called, "Ms. Wesley, wait." She ignored him and turned
the knob.

She hid a smile when he sprang from his seat to stop her from leaving.

"I'd be very much obliged if you explained what you interpret to be Mrs. Waterstone's
code."

"And I'd be very much obliged if you stopped playing games."

He bowed his head as though accepting her rebuke. Ardin knew it was all she'd receive in
the way of an apology.

He ushered her back to her seat and sat behind his desk. "I'm all ears." His tone was
considerably warmer.

Ardin explained her interpretation of Suziette's record keeping.

Rabe nodded and pointed to the first page. "Whom do these initials belong to?"

Ardin froze. Until now she'd been certain she'd gotten the code right. But what if
she were wrong? What if DN
didn't
stand for Corey? He'd turn ugly if she sent the
police after him on such flimsy evidence. And Bill Presley wouldn't appreciate becoming a
suspect because of some long-ago affair with Suziette. Besides, his real name was William,
she suddenly realized. Meaning CQ could very well be someone else.

He must have noted her hesitancy, because he offered a wry smile. "Are you having second
thoughts about helping us? "

She inhaled sharply. "I would imagine that SU stands for Randy Tarkman. He and Suziette
went together for about six months."

"And now lives in San Diego, California, with his wife and two kids."

"Oh."

"Yes, Ms. Wesley, we're checking out every angle, every possibility, every person."

"I'm glad to hear that." The police
were
being thorough.

"Any others?"

"I believe there's a page for my ex-husband and one for Bill Presley. I'm not sure about the
others."

"Thank you. Oh, did you happen to see Mr. Waterstone yesterday morning?"

Ardin shook her head. "No, why?"

"Just checking his alibi. There's a half hour discrepancy between the time he claims he left
his work site and when his workers said he left."

Ardin felt her temper rising. "So? What's that supposed to prove? You can't possibly
imagine Brett pretended to burgle his own house!"

"At this point, we're not certain what we believe." He leaned across his desk. "Frankly, I
wouldn't be too trusting of a man I hardly know."

Furious, Ardin stood. She never should have subjected herself to another unpleasant
meeting with this man.

"One more thing, Ms. Wesley. Did your cousin ever mention whether or not she intended to
press for repayment of a rather large loan?"

Startled by the question, Ardin sank back into the chair. "No. To whom did she loan
money?"

"Dimitri Costas."

"Really? And he has no alibi for Thursday night."

"I see word gets around."

Offended by his implication that she was a gossip, she retorted, "You might keep that in
mind, and stop accusing Brett of killing Suziette when he didn't."

He frowned. "There are many suspects in this case, Ms. Wesley, and little enough evidence.
But there is something you might want to ask Lover Boy."

She winced at his choice of words, but said nothing.

"Ask him to tell you about the time he got into a fight and broke the other guy's nose."

"That happened when?"

"About ten years ago."

Ardin smiled, pretending to be amused. "Let's see. Brett would have been all of
twenty-two."

"True," he conceded, "but it's something to keep in mind. After all, Ms. Wesley, you don't
want to keep on choosing the wrong type of man."

She exited the office, leaving the door open in childish retaliation, but she was profoundly
shaken. My God! Rabe had thoroughly investigated Brett and herself along with everyone else.