Garden of Secrets (24 page)

“Joe?”

Her voice brought him back to reality.

“I’m boring you,” she said.

“Not at all.” He tried to remember what she’d been talking about.

“Nice try. You went somewhere in your head.”

He glanced around, but there was no one within
earshot. “I did go somewhere, but I wasn’t alone. You were with me.”

Her cheeks turned a rosy red. “You’re so bad.”

“You have no idea.” His phone rang, the station number flashing across the screen, reminding him that he’d been gone longer than he’d expected. “Sorry, I need to take this.”

“No problem.”

“Sheila, what’s up?” he asked briskly.

“The mayor has called three times. He wants to speak to you. He said either call or come by the hospital.”

“All right. I’ll stop by there in a few minutes.”

“Detective Marlow said to tell you he spoke to Peter Lawson and his daughter, and it’s a dead end. He’ll catch you up when you get back.”

“Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “I have to go. The mayor wants to talk to me. And apparently, your mother’s boyfriend is in the clear.”

“That’s good news.”

“Yeah.” He found himself reluctant to say goodbye to her. “Why don’t you let me make you dinner tonight?”

“It’s probably not a good idea,” she said slowly.

“It’s an excellent idea. How about seven-thirty?”

“But—”

“It’s just dinner, Charlotte.” He got to his feet. “You won’t be disappointed.”

“Maybe we should put it off until tomorrow.”

“There you go again—putting things off until
tomorrow.” He leaned over and whispered, “Jump, Charlotte. I’ll catch you.” Then he left, feeling damn good. Everything would be perfect—as long as Charlotte showed up.

Joe’s good vibe ended at the hospital. Theresa had been moved out of ICU and into a private room. She was sitting up in bed, wearing a silk robe, looking a lot better than the last time he’d seen her. There was a bandage around her head, and her bones stuck out in her thin face, but her color was good. That was a great sign.

The mayor jumped up from the chair next to the bed. “What the hell is going on? Why haven’t you arrested anyone yet?” Robert demanded.

“We’re making progress,” Joe said evenly. “Investigations take time. Our team is diligently following up every lead. How are you feeling, Mrs. Monroe?”

“I’m better,” she said shortly. “But very concerned that I’ll be going home tomorrow and the person who tried to kill me is still free.”

“Have you been able to recall any other details from your attack?” he asked.

Her lips turned down in a frown. “It was a woman—I know that.”

He stiffened. “How exactly do you know that?”

“Perfume. Whenever I close my eyes, I smell perfume. I can’t place the scent. It’s something cheap.”

“And you smelled the perfume that night in your room?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure the scent was in your room and not just lingering in your mind from the party? A lot of women were wearing perfume that night.”

“You’re trying to confuse me,” she said, her brows knitting together.

“Not at all. Just asking questions. That’s my job.”

“Your job is to arrest the person who did this, not have a romance with her,” Robert interjected. “It’s all over town about you and Charlotte Adams.”

Joe’s jaw clenched as he looked at the mayor. “I am doing my job. We have no evidence or cause to arrest anyone.”

“Charlotte Adams is playing you. I didn’t think you were stupid, Silveira.”

“He’s just a man,” Theresa put in cynically. “Not that hard to distract.”

“I’m not being distracted,” he said, although deep down, his conscience suggested that wasn’t entirely true. “I’m also not going to jeopardize the case by arresting someone prematurely.”

“Constance said she saw Charlotte outside my room,” Theresa said. “What more evidence do you need?”

“There were several people outside your room, including Constance,” he pointed out. “The lights were also out for several minutes, providing a cover of darkness for anyone to escape without being seen.”

“Charlotte doesn’t like me. She was always jealous of Pamela and me. I never should have invited her to the party.”

“It’s strange to me that you invited Charlotte to the party but not Pamela.”

“Pamela doesn’t live in town,” Theresa said quickly.

“Where is she now?” he asked. “Has she gone back to L.A.?”

“No. She’s just out somewhere.”

“Look, Silveira,” the mayor interrupted. “I’ve given you and Marlow plenty of time. I want justice, and if you can’t give me any, I’ll find someone who can. No one attacks my wife in my town and gets away with it.”

A decade of training in being polite to unreasonable people kept Joe in check. Instead of saying what he really wanted to say, he replied, “I understand. I’ll be in touch. Mrs. Monroe,” he said, tipping his head. “If any other memories come back, please let us know.”

As he left the room, he blew out a breath, and he walked out of the hospital feeling as frustrated as the Monroes. Not just because he didn’t have a lead but because he needed to cancel dinner with Charlotte.

Their professional reputations were on the line now, and he couldn’t allow his desire for her to get in the way of his judgment. They needed to put the brakes on until this case was solved.

As he reached the parking lot, he pulled out his cell phone. When Charlotte’s voice came on the line, he almost changed his mind, but he forced himself to go through with it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Something
has come up. Can I make dinner for you another night?”

“Oh,” she said in surprise. “Sure, of course,” she added in a breezy tone.

He’d thought he was getting past the pretense she put up for everyone else. She’d given him a glimpse past her walls, and he wanted all the way in, but that wasn’t happening tonight.

“I am sorry,” he repeated.

“I understand, Joe. You have a demanding job. Sometimes things come up.”

“Well, great. I’m glad you’re not upset about it,” he said, feeling ridiculously annoyed that she wasn’t more disappointed.

“Did something happen with the mayor? You seem tense.”

She had no idea how tense he was, but that had more to do with her than with the mayor. “Theresa is going home tomorrow.”

“That’s good news.” She paused for a moment. “The mayor said something to you about me, didn’t he?”

“You were part of his overall theme of requiring justice,” he said carefully.

“He wants my head,” she said bluntly.

“I won’t let him near your pretty head. I’ll call you tomorrow, Charlotte.”

“Good night, Joe.”

He slipped his phone into his pocket, wondering why the right decision felt so wrong.

*   *   *

Charlotte stared into the mirror at her freshly made-up face and sighed. Here she was, all dressed up and no place to go. Her mother was out with friends. Even Annie had plans, having gone to a barbecue at her friend Diana’s house.

Maybe she’d just get into her car and see where she ended up.

Twenty minutes later, she ended up at the church. Andrew had told her he had a Bible group meeting, but when she arrived at the auditorium, she found a basketball game in progress. It was a mix of teenage girls and boys, with Andrew in the middle of the action.

She watched from the doorway as he dribbled down court, making one agile move after the next, until he cleanly swished the ball through the net. High fives and celebration followed, along with the sound of a buzzer.

“That’s it,” Andrew said. “See you all next week.”

The kids broke up, grabbing backpacks and Bibles off the benches.

Surprise spread across Andrew’s face when he saw her. As he strode across the auditorium with a basketball in his hands, wearing black sweats and a T-shirt, he reminded her of the boy she’d first fallen in love with. Only then she’d been watching him on the baseball field, waiting for the end of the game, when her hero would look at her—only her. What
a head rush that had been. The most popular guy in school had wanted her.

“Charlie,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Spur-of-the-moment decision. I thought you had Bible group.”

“This is Bible group,” he said, stopping to say good-bye to the last of the stragglers. “We mix discussion in with a little basketball. Anyone who misses a shot has to recite at least one verse from the Bible.”

“Sounds more fun than the Bible groups my father used to run. I always counted the minutes until those were over.”

“That’s exactly what these guys were doing until I brought in a ball. Then everyone woke up. So, what are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d see if you wanted to get something to eat.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Pizza at Rusty’s?”

“Sounds like a plan. Why don’t you come next door, and I’ll take a quick shower first?”

“All right.” She walked out of the auditorium with him, waiting as he turned out the lights and locked up. Then they walked through the trees to her old house.

It felt odd to be climbing her old front stairs with Andrew, to wait for him to unlock the door for her. She’d been in the house a few times since he’d moved in, but it still felt as if it belonged to her family.

“Help yourself to something to drink,” he told her as he headed up the stairs.

She wandered down the hall into the kitchen. Except for a cereal bowl in the sink, it was very clean. She opened the fridge and took a can of raspberry tea, noting the shelves filled with casseroles, fruits, and cheeses. It looked as if Andrew was reaping the benefits of being a single minister in a congregation of single women.

As she popped the lid and took a drink, she glanced around the kitchen. There was nothing on the walls and very little on the counters. In her mind, she could see her family’s kitchen: the colorful dish towels, the potted plants by the window that changed with the seasons, the huge calendar by the door that had maintained the schedule of their lives. She imagined her mother bustling around the kitchen and saw not Andrew’s small round table but the big rectangular one where she sat to do her homework or make some art project with her sister or brother. A wave of nostalgia hit her and a little sadness for a time that could never be recaptured.

She glanced toward the door as Andrew walked in, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair damp. “That was fast,” she said.

“I didn’t want to take a chance on you leaving. You’ve been hard to pin down these last few weeks.”

“Sorry about that. But we can catch up tonight.” She paused. “We can skip Rusty’s if you’d rather eat one of the casseroles in your fridge.”

He shook his head. “Please, I’m casseroled out. I never thought I would grow tired of lasagna.”

“Yeah, it really sucks that you’re so popular and never have to cook for yourself,” she teased.

“I doubt you cook for yourself, either, with your mother around.”

“Okay, we’re both spoiled in that area.” She finished her tea and set the can down on the counter. “It would be a little weird to eat here, anyway. It’s both familiar and strange.” She gave him a smile. “I always thought of this house as mine, but I’m just one of the many people who lived in it and will live in it.”

“You could live in it again, if you give me a second chance.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “Don’t worry. I know tonight you’re just giving me pizza.”

“Did I say I was paying?”

“You invited me,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll drive.”

Rusty’s was busy with kids and families. When they finally made their way through the line and ordered, Andrew said, “Looks like our booth is open.”

She smiled as they took the corner booth. “I wonder how many couples think this is their booth. It’s the best one in the place.”

“Tonight it’s ours.” He waved her in first, then slid in next to her. “I’m glad we could finally make this happen, Charlie.”

“Me, too,” she said, feeling a little guilty. If Joe hadn’t bailed on her, it wouldn’t have happened. And
now that she was here, she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say.

“Did you happen to notice the redhaired kid in the Bible group?” Andrew asked.

“No, why?”

“He’s Randy Mitchelson’s kid. Remember him?”

“The funniest guy in our class? Sure.”

“He married Melanie Robinson right after high school. They divorced last year, and Billy is having a tough time.”

“I’m sorry they didn’t make it.” She rested her arms on the table. “You must hear a lot of people’s secrets.”

“A fair amount. You, too, right?”

“Yes, and some I’d rather not know, but it’s the job.”

He nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Other people’s secrets can weigh you down if you let them.”

Something in his words gave her pause. “Is something weighing you down, Andrew?”

“Not anything I can talk about,” he said slowly. “There’s a fine line between keeping a confidence and saving someone from trouble. And I don’t always know when it’s appropriate to cross the line.”

“I think if anyone is in danger, then you have to cross the line. If not, you have to stay silent.” The waitress set their pizza down in front of them. “This looks good.” Charlotte grabbed a piece and picked off some of the black olives, catching Andrew’s smile. “What?”

“We didn’t have to order olives. I forgot you didn’t like them.”

“And I remembered how much you do.”

“So you haven’t forgotten everything?”

“Just eat,” she ordered.

They avoided personal subjects, talking about the church fund-raiser, the new Thai restaurant in town, the condos being constructed on the northernmost beach. Being with Andrew was easy and comfortable.

“I’m stuffed,” Andrew finally said, sitting back in the booth. “I shouldn’t have had that last piece.”

“Better you than me.” She wiped her hands and mouth on a napkin.

“I’ll have to join you on one of your runs.”

“You hate to jog. If there’s not a ball to chase, you’re not interested, remember?”

He grinned. “Good point. Maybe I’ll find a pickup basketball game at the gym tomorrow. Then I can run
and
score points.”

Charlotte shook her head. “What is it with men and always needing to keep score? Some things you just do for the pleasure of doing them—like running.”