Garden of Secrets (18 page)

“Pamela?”

“Yes, that girl was trouble from the day she was born. She used to come here in high school and run out on her check—dine and ditch, they used to call it. By then, her parents had passed on, and she and Theresa were living with their grandmother, who didn’t know where they were half the time. Those girls just ran wild. They were always fighting with each other, too; they had a lot of screaming matches in here. One time, I thought Pamela was going to rip out her sister’s hair. She had a violent streak in her.”

“Pamela did rush back here after Theresa’s attack, so there must be some family loyalty.”

“Did she come back? Or was she already here?” Dina said with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” He’d had a few thoughts about Pamela’s arrival himself, but he was curious about what Dina had to say.

“I think Pamela was jealous of Theresa. Let’s face it, her sister is a rich woman. She married a successful man, and she now owns one of the biggest houses
in town, along with some fabulous jewelry. That couldn’t have made Pamela happy. Maybe they had a fight, and Pamela stole her sister’s jewelry.”

He’d considered a similar scenario but, like Dina, had no facts to back it up. As far as he knew, the mayor’s phone call was what had brought Pamela to town, and it seemed a little unlikely that she’d stick around if she’d committed the crime. Unless she was staying to find out what her sister remembered, which at the moment seemed to be next to nothing.

“Something to ponder,” Dina said as she slid out of the booth. A minute later, she returned with his lunch. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” The cheesy chicken enchiladas reminded him of home, of his father’s spicy tamales and his grandmother’s salsa. They also reminded him that he was due to call home. He’d been checking on his father’s progress regularly, but it had been a few days. He was just taking his last bite when his cell phone vibrated. The number gave him immediate indigestion. It was Rachel.

He debated answering for as long as it took the phone to stop vibrating. A moment later, his voice-mail gave a little
ding
. Did he want to know why she’d called? If it was something to do with his father, one of his sisters would have been on the phone. So her call had to be about the divorce or something along those lines, lines he didn’t care to travel. She’d been the one to file, but he was the one now who wanted everything finalized.

He drank his coffee, stared at his phone again,
and finally punched the button to retrieve her voice-mail.

Rachel’s voice brought with it a mix of emotions.

“Hi, Joe. I know it’s almost officially over between us, and you probably don’t have any second thoughts, but if you do, call me. I can’t stop wondering if we moved too fast, if we should have tried harder, if things would have been different if you’d been willing to move back home. Your answer is probably no, but I had to ask one more time. Because we meant a lot to each other once. Anyway, that’s it. ’Bye.”

“Joe?”

He blinked in surprise as Isabella slid onto the bench across from him. His sister’s eyes grew worried as she stared back at him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I saw you on the phone. Nothing’s happened to Dad, has it?”

“No. Rachel left me a message.”

“Oh, she called you, too.”

“You spoke to her?” he asked.

“She wanted me to persuade you to talk to her.”

“We’re done, Izzy. I don’t know how I can say it any more clearly. And I find it ridiculous that she’s now acting like she never wanted a divorce. She’s the one who followed Mark Devlin back to Hollywood after his accident here. I saw her the night he got hurt. She was destroyed. She wouldn’t leave his bedside. That’s why she filed for the divorce. She was in love with him.”

“I don’t think things worked out for them.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“She’s used to you forgiving her,” Isabella said quietly.

He thought about that for a moment. “I’m not angry with her,” he said, knowing it was true. “To be completely honest, I’m relieved it’s over. I was fighting to hang on to something that wasn’t there anymore, that hadn’t been there for a long time. It was exhausting. Now I’ve let go, and I feel good.” He picked up his phone and deleted the voice-mail.

Isabella smiled. “I’m glad. I loved Rachel like a sister, but I wasn’t oblivious to how needy she could be or how unhappy the two of you were the last few years. Now I’m going to grab my salad and go.”

“Where are you off to?”

“The theater. Tory’s mother asked me to help them go through the costumes for their spring production.”

“You’re getting as sucked into this town as I am.”

She smiled. “I didn’t just fall in love with the town, I fell in love with Nick.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he was married before?” he asked curiously.

“No. It was a long time ago.”

“That would make a difference,” he mused. “He’s had plenty of time to get his head straight.”

She gave him a thoughtful look. “Are we talking about Nick or about you?”

He tipped his head. “I was wondering how long it would take someone to feel like they weren’t the rebound person.”

“I don’t think it’s about time,” she said, her expression turning more serious. “It’s about the quality of the new relationship, the depth of the feelings, the trust, the honesty. Sometimes that happens fast. Sometimes it takes a while. I knew Nick was the man for me from the first minute I met him. But he fought it a little longer.”

“Are you going to marry Nick?”

“Well, he hasn’t asked, but if he did . . . maybe.”

“Taking on a teenage stepchild wouldn’t be easy.”

“Megan looks like a rebel on the outside, but on the inside, she’s a marshmallow. Just a little girl wanting to be loved, and I’ve got plenty of that to give.”

“You deserve to be happy, Isabella. I’m glad you found Nick and Megan.”

“Me, too. And you deserve to be happy as well.” She slid out of the booth just as Jason approached. “Hi, Jason. You can have my seat.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt,” Jason said.

“I was on my way out. See you both later.”

“What’s up?” Joe asked Jason as he sat down.

Jason didn’t answer right away, as Dina came by to pour coffee.

“I have your favorite peach pie,” she told him.

He groaned. “You’re killing me, Dina. Fine, bring me a slice.”

“Warmed up with ice cream on the top?”

“Do you have to ask?”

She laughed. “What about you, Chief?”

“No, thanks. I’m stuffed.”

She cleared his empty plate. “I knew you’d like that. I’ll be back in a minute with that pie.”

After Dina left, Jason said, “I spoke to the fitness trainer, Larry Craig. He got very nervous when I asked him about his training sessions with Theresa and admitted that he’d been seeing her two days a week for the past couple of months, but he assured me his relationship with her was completely professional.”

“What about Larry’s girlfriend?”

“Still trying to get in contact with her. She wasn’t home and called in sick to work.” He paused as Dina set down his pie. “Thanks, this looks good.”

“Enjoy,” Dina said, and left.

Joe didn’t like the fact that the trainer’s girlfriend seemed to be unreachable. People in Angel’s Bay weren’t usually that difficult to locate. “Make it a priority to locate the girlfriend before the end of the day.”

“Will do,” Jason replied.

“Anything else?”

Jason shook his head as he dug into his pie. “Nothing,” he said between bites. “On a lighter note, you’re coming to Shane’s bachelor party on Saturday night, right? We’ve got the back room at Murray’s reserved for a little pool, a lot of beer, maybe even a stripper,” he added with a grin.

“A stripper here in Angel’s Bay?” Joe asked in amazement.

“I know a couple of girls who are willing to travel for the right amount of cash.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Does Kara know that you and Colin are bringing in strippers?”

Jason shrugged. “It’s a bachelor party. What happens in the back room of Murray’s stays in the back room.”

Joe smiled to himself. Somehow he didn’t think that would be the case.

Charlotte could see the roof of the police station from her office window. If she were a floor up, she could probably see into Joe’s office. She could imagine him there now, working at his desk that always seemed to be stacked high with files, a cup of coffee by his elbow, the computer next to him, his brow furrowing with concentration or irritation because they weren’t finding the answers they needed. He cared a lot about his job and about the people in the community. He also cared about her.

Her heart leaped at the memory of last night, stripping his clothes off his body with a reckless impatience that went way beyond her usual romantic or sexual encounters. She would have made love to him in the bell tower if her mother hadn’t come looking for her. Another few minutes, she probably wouldn’t have cared
who
was nearby, because when she was with Joe, she was with him all the way. His kiss drove all rational thinking out of her head. But Joe could hurt her badly, because the feelings swirling inside her felt dangerously like love.

Her office intercom buzzed, reminding her that
she had another patient to see. Staring out the window at the roof of a man’s office building was not an efficient use of her time. Smiling at her foolishness, she turned away from the window and got back to work.

After spending the next ten minutes on a routine physical, she left her patient to get dressed and headed to the front desk to fill out a prescription slip and check the rest of her schedule. While she was doing so, her gaze caught on a patient being led down the hall into an examining room.

It was Constance Garcia, the housekeeper of Sandstone Manor.

Charlotte’s pulse began to race. Constance wasn’t her patient, but what a golden opportunity to get some information. She headed down the hall, knocked briefly on the exam-room door, and turned the knob as Mrs. Garcia said, “Come in.”

The woman was dressed in black pants, a white blouse, and a heavy gray sweater, her black hair pulled back in a severe knot. She was sitting in a chair by the exam table, reading a magazine. When she saw Charlotte, her eyes widened with surprise and what appeared to be a little fear.

“Hello, Mrs. Garcia. I’m Dr. Adams,” she said with a cheerful smile. She wasn’t guilty, and she wasn’t going to act guilty. “We met the other night at Mrs. Monroe’s house.”

“I know who you are. And you’re not my doctor.”

“Dr. Shaw is finishing up a surgery. She’ll be a little late. I wanted to let you know.”

“The nurse already told me,” she said warily.

“Good. I was hoping you and I could have a little chat about what happened the night Mrs. Monroe was assaulted.”

The woman immediately shook her head and put a nervous hand to the cross that hung around her neck. “I don’t have anything else to say. I told the police what I knew.”

“I’m sure you did. I’m just curious about where you were when you saw me. Were you on the stairs? Or in the hallway?”

The woman hesitated. “I’m sorry you’re in trouble. I just told them what I saw.”

“As you should. But I wasn’t near Mrs. Monroe’s room. I was at the other end of the corridor, and I don’t remember seeing you at all. I passed another woman when I came up the stairs. A young woman wearing a black dress, with dark hair. Do you know who I mean?”

Constance licked her lips. “I—I don’t know. I’m not sure.” She jerked to her feet, the magazine falling to the floor. She grabbed her big purse and held it in front of her like a shield. “I’ll come back when Dr. Shaw is here.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset,” Charlotte said quickly, holding up her hands in apology. “I’m just trying to figure out who could have hurt Mrs. Monroe, because it wasn’t me, which means it was someone else.”

The woman stared back at her for a long moment.
“You seem nice. I’m sorry. I can’t talk to you. They told me not to.”

“Who?” she asked. “The police?”

Mrs. Garcia started shaking her head again, visibly more upset. Then she darted past Charlotte and practically ran down the hall, almost knocking over Charlotte’s nurse, Leslie, in the process.

“What happened?” Leslie asked.

“She didn’t want to wait,” Charlotte said shortly.

“I guess not,” Leslie said, giving her an odd look. “Are you all right? I just put Mrs. Rogers in room three.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Charlotte hurried into her office, closed the door, and breathed in and out, unsettled by the housekeeper’s words.
“They told me not to talk to you.”

Who were
they?
Somehow she didn’t think Constance was referring to the cops. There had been fear in her eyes. And her cryptic apology made Charlotte wonder if the housekeeper had seen her in the hallway at all.

Who was the woman she’d passed on the stairs? There must be a list of all the employees who had been at the party that night. She needed to get it, go through it, identify the woman she’d seen. Put some pressure on someone else for a change.

Her mind whirled in a dozen different directions. She glanced at the phone, wondering if she should call Joe or Jason. Neither one wanted her involved, and she doubted they’d appreciate her talking to Constance.
But something was off about the housekeeper’s behavior. She just had to figure out what it was.

Andrew jogged down the stairs of his house as his doorbell rang, three impatient times in a row. He finished buttoning up his shirt and ran his fingers through his damp hair as he headed toward the front door. He was just about to leave to pick up Tory for dinner.

On his porch was Pamela, wearing a dark red minidress under a black leather jacket with black tights and high heels. She brushed past him, taking off her coat and tossing it onto the couch before he could tell her she wasn’t welcome. Her dress was cut low, her generous cleavage front and center. She’d always been bold and uninhibited, but he didn’t intend to let her provocative clothes or her sexy smile get to him. He’d been to Pamela’s version of fantasy land, and he had no intention of going back.