Deathtrap (23 page)

He waited a beat before answering. “Amanda and I have been together for over twenty years. It’s more friendship than anything else at this stage. Especially since the whole chemo thing. She’s just not the same. She has her ladies’ clubs and her girlfriends. I need something too. Kristine didn’t love her husband.”

“She told you that?”

“We didn’t talk a lot.” Taylor flashed a sly, man-to-man grin as he relaxed a little.

“How long did you carry on the affair?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.” The man glanced at his messy desk, the crooked piles of manila folders, then back up at Bing without fully meeting his eyes. “We met a couple of times.”

“More than that. You were seeing each other for over a year.”

Taylor swallowed, then hooked two fingers behind his tie to loosen it. “Look—”

But Bing didn’t want to hear any more pitiful excuses. “Did you know a man by the name of Greg Bruckner? He died two years ago.”

While Taylor had been uncomfortable with the conversation until now, this last question had him visibly withdrawing. He shoved his hands into his pocket. “Went to high school together. Hung out a couple of times a year. Why?”

“Did you kill Kristine Haynes?” Bing rapid-fired the next question to throw the man off-balance.

“I know this looks bad, but I didn’t hurt anyone. You have to believe me,” he rushed to say. “We’re friends, right?”

Bing watched him closely. “We’re not friends,” he said. “Do you know Sophie Curtis?”

“Who?”

“Did Kristine Haynes want to end the affair? Did you get mad at her?”

Taylor laughed off the question. “We ended things months ago. It was a pleasant distraction, but not the kind of passion a man would kill for. I was bored at home. She was there and ready to roll. We scratched a mutual itch. And then we ended things amicably. There’s really no great story here.”

He was lying about ending things. They’d been seen at the motel recently. But being a liar didn’t make the man a murderer. He could be lying to protect himself, because he knew how it looked, knew that as Kristine’s lover he’d be the primary suspect. Bing didn’t call him on the lie. Let him think the police didn’t have as much information as they did. The safer he felt, the better the chance that he’d slip up eventually.

To take things to the next level, Bing needed proof, and he didn’t have any. “Where were you on April 27th?” The day of the murder.

The man glanced at the desk calendar in front of him. “Home, sick. Amanda can back me up on this when she gets back from her management conference in Atlanta.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If you must talk to her… I’d appreciate it if you could be discreet about your reasons for asking.”

He promised nothing, even if the thought of hurting Amanda bothered him. “Where were you last night?”

“Alone. I was burning the midnight oil, putting together some files for a big presentation due next week. The laptop probably time-stamped the documents if you want to see them.”

“I do.”

Taylor bent to his laptop on the corner of his desk, took a few seconds with the keyboard, then swiveled it to face Bing. “There. It’s the last saved field.”

The date and time matched the period in question, the time the intruder had been at Sophie’s house. And Taylor opened another document, and another. As far as Bing could tell, he was telling the truth and had been working most of the night.

It didn’t look like he’d been Sophie’s intruder. Which didn’t mean he hadn’t been Kristine’s killer.

“I don’t want you to leave town for the next couple of days.” Bing stepped back from the laptop, toward the door, wishing that for once the clues lined up and actually pointed at somebody clearly. There was something off about Taylor, but it could just be that he was nervous and embarrassed that someone had found out about the affair. His body language was all over the place, difficult to read.

Although, he no longer seemed to be embarrassed. He probably thought his boys-will-be-boys defense took care of everything.

He was shaking his head behind his desk. “I can’t believe it’s like this. You ate hot dogs in my backyard. What the hell happened?”

“Murder,” Bing said and left him to his video conference.

He took a call from an unidentified number on his way back to the office that eased his frustration a little—Murphy Dolan, the officer Jack Sullivan had replaced at the Broslin PD. He put Bing in a marginally better mood. They’d been friends once but hadn’t talked in ages.

He relaxed behind the wheel as he put Murph on speaker. “Hey. Good to hear from you. How’s it going?”

“Getting married.”

“Yeah? Congratulations.” That had to be difficult with the bride in the witness protection program. There’d be no families and friends attending. “I suppose it’s not going to be a fancy affair?”

“If I could, I’d ask you to be the best man. You know that.”

“I appreciate it.” He would gladly do the honor. “How is that beautiful bride of yours?”

“Happy, I hope. She sure makes me happy. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

Which was a lot to say, under the circumstances. Kate Bridges had come to Broslin to hide from a hit man with the help of the witness protection program. The FBI had messed up. She’d been running for her life when Murphy had stepped in, freshly home from Afghanistan. He’d gotten called up from the reserves, gone, then come back a different man.

They’d both been in a bad place, two people you would think couldn’t help themselves, let alone each other, but somehow they had. He saved her, and she saved him. And when it came to needing to move to keep hidden even after the primary threat had been eliminated, Murphy Dolan went without hesitation. He’d taken that on for love.

And it didn’t sound like he regretted it.

Bing congratulated him again and wished them all the happiness in the world.

Was it really like that? he thought after hanging up, trying not to miss Sophie too much. Did love really conquer everything?

Maybe it did, for those brave enough to believe it.

* * *

The key was not to think of Bing, not to think of where her heart had come from, but just go on with her daily business. Maybe if she pretended long enough that everything was all right, someday it would be.

Sophie checked her bank balance, happy as could be over the payments that finally came in from a client, and bought a new front door at the local hardware store. She even splurged and paid extra for same-day installation. She wasn’t tight on money. She made a good income from her business. Her clients liked her and tended to come back for more. She got a lot of new business through referrals.

Since the store had the door in stock and the installations were done by an on-site employee, her house was restored by midafternoon. She turned the locks and felt safer.

Not that she thought anyone would bother her now, not with the police car parked at the curb once again. At least that was what she told herself, what she wanted to believe. She wasn’t quite there yet, still startling at every noise. Thank God she had Peaches.

She worked a little, starting a new web site for a new client, then called her mother. “How are you?”

“Busy. Are you okay?”

“Fine, healthwise.” She thought of the rest, wishing they had the kind of relationship where they really told each other things. But if she shared her latest troubles, she’d have to listen to a list of reasons why she should move back home.

She wanted to be able to share things. She wanted her mother to be supportive.

Actually, she had control over half of that equation. Didn’t she? If she hoped to improve things, one of them had to get started. She glanced at her little sign of positive reinforcement over the sink.

“It’s been pretty crazy on this end for the last couple of days,” she began and went ahead and told her about what had been going on, instead of hiding all her troubles. “I could really use your support on this. Even if we don’t agree on everything.”

Then came the predictable admonishment to give up the foolishness of living alone. And then, “I’m praying for you.”

“Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I appreciate it.”

When they hung up, she didn’t think they’d suddenly be seeing eye-to-eye now or feel closer than they’d ever been. But there was a seed of hope that if they both tried, it could be the beginning of something.

Peaches was playing with the giant rawhide bone she’d picked up at the pet store next to the hardware store, his prize for last night’s heroic actions.

“I appreciate what you did, I really do.” She reached down to pat the dog as she walked by on her way up the stairs to work. She couldn’t stand the thought that the intruder might have hurt him.

She finished Meredith’s update so her online-shopping-cart app would now automatically calculate tax and display it at checkout. She set up a testing page and sent a link to Meredith for final approval. She’d just hit the Send button when her doorbell rang. Maybe it was Joe outside, Officer Kessler, needing to use the bathroom. She’d told him when he came on shift to let her know if he needed anything.

He seriously looked like those models whose half-out-of-uniform pictures some of her friends sent around on Facebook. He’d given her the come-hither look when they’d talked for a minute by his car. She didn’t think he could help it. He seemed like a born flirt, and it suited him. But she hadn’t been affected. Her head was still filled with Bing.

But when she opened the door, Lester’s wrinkled face greeted her.

“Saw your cop boyfriend was over again last night. You sure get into a lot of trouble.” He peered in and checked around. “Ellie May’s furniture was smaller.”

“I suppose,” she said easily. “They make everything bigger these days. Would you like to come in?”

He harrumphed and stayed where he was but kept looking. Peaches was trying to sniff him. Sophie pushed the dog back. “Behave.”

“So what was the hullabaloo last night?” Lester wanted to know. “Whatever happened, I came over to tell you I didn’t do it. I don’t want that cop on my case again.”

“Someone broke in. Peaches chased the guy off.” Peaches and Bing.

Lester raised an eyebrow in desperate need of a hedge trimmer. “Well, whaddaya know? Maybe he’ll be good for something.”

He held out his hand, palm down. Peaches sniffed it, then raised his head to Sophie.

“He’s our neighbor. He’s okay.”

Peaches took her word for it and walked away.

“Why don’t you come and sit with me in the kitchen? I have homemade lemonade.”

He didn’t look impressed but stepped forward. Sophie walked in front of him, got out two glasses, and poured them both drinks. “Any news about Ellie May?”

His face clouded as he slowly lowered himself into a chair. “Haven’t talked to her this week. Her eyes are getting bad. She can’t see the numbers on her cell phone to call. And when I call…” He shrugged. “Half the time she forgets to recharge her battery.”

“Would you like to go see her?” She lifted a hand to ward off immediate protest. “It’d do me good to get out. I work at home. Sometimes I feel like I never leave this house. I wouldn’t mind a road trip to Philly. Honestly.”

He watched her for a moment. “Sunday is her favorite day.”

She sat down at the table and took a drink. “So how long have you been sweet on her?”

“Most all of my life.” He paused as if deciding whether to say more, and then he did, although with obvious reluctance. “Her daddy owned the farm that was later turned into this street. They were just chopping up land for housing when I got out of the army. I got the lot right across from her family’s cottage where her grandparents lived.” A spark came into his eyes. “She always was a fine-looking filly.”

“Why didn’t you marry her?”

“I got the house on the GI bill, but other than that, I was poor as Job’s turkey. I wouldn’t even have had money for a ring. And then her daddy sent her off to some fancy school in Philadelphia. By the time she came home for Christmas break, she was engaged.”

“Did you get married?”

“I thought I’d wait.” A small, sheepish smile lifted his wrinkled face, the first time she’d seen that expression on him. “Then her husband died, and we had a little time together, but before I got around to asking her, her damn kids put her into that home.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“I waited fifty-two years and three months for her.” Misery filled his voice. “And then, poof, she’s gone one day.”

She shook her head with sympathy. “That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

It wasn’t the day for getting a ton of work done. Half an hour after Lester left, Wendy stopped in with her son, Justin.

“You have a tan, no fair,” Sophie complained jokingly, glad for the visit.

“Hey, I thought we’d check in on you. We brought you orange cake from Florida.”

“Hand it over, mister.” She grinned at Justin, but Justin kept a good grip on the box.

“Smart kid.” Sophie introduced them to Peaches, who was a lot gentler with Justin than Justin was with him. Within a minute, the kid tugged on the dog’s ears, tongue, and tail, then tried to climb on to ride him like a pony, but Wendy put a stop to that.

Sophie led them to the kitchen. “What if I trade you some chocolate milk for a slice of that cake?” she asked the little boy to distract him from his equestrian dreams for a minute.

Justin grinned.

“How are Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Goo.”

Which meant good. Justin wasn’t talking yet, something Wendy worried over, no matter how many times the pediatrician said that it was normal.

He ran off to play with Peaches, and Wendy turned serious, dropping her voice as she asked, “How are you? Really?” And moved in for a hug.

“Confused. If I have the heart of a—”

“No.” Wendy pulled back. “Don’t even think that. You have your heart. It’s a good heart. It’s loving and it’s kind. Where it’s been before changes nothing. I know you, and I know this.”

Her voice was firm and sure, her words sending warmth and gratitude through Sophie. But before she could tell her friend how much the unconditional support meant, the doorbell rang again, Joe standing outside this time, ready to take her up on that bathroom offer. Although, catching the way he stared at Wendy as he passed by, Sophie wasn’t so sure that was the only reason he’d come in.