ILL-TIMED ENTANGLEMENTS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #2) (27 page)

Mrs. Forsythe invited them to sit down. Kate sat in one of the two matching armchairs on either end of the plush velvet sofa in the living room area.

Skip moved toward the other chair but Mrs. Forsythe quickly stepped in front of it. “Big man like you,” she purred, “would probably be more comfortable on the sofa.” She waited until he sat down, then ignoring the chair herself, she perched on the arm of the opposite end of the sofa.

Skip had no doubt she would find an excuse to sit down next to him soon. He was having a hard time making the transition from the intense discussion he had just had with Kate to dealing with Mrs. Forsythe. He was in no mood to pretend to have even a passing interest in this woman.

“Sorry to keep bothering you, Mrs. Forsythe,” Kate was saying. “But we needed to touch base with you again about a couple things. First of all, we were wondering if you could tell us anything about Mr. Morgan. Such as who his friends were and if he had any enemies?”

“Oh, I didn’t really know the man all that well. He was on the quiet side.”

“Did you ever notice who he hung out with, ma’am?” Skip asked. “Did he sit with anyone in particular at meals, for example?”

“Hmm, let me think. No, he usually sat alone.”

“Did you ever talk to him?” Kate asked.

“Not all that much. I said hi a few times but he got kind of awkward, you know, like he wasn’t real comfortable talking to a woman.”

Curious
, Kate thought. None of the other women had reported that Jeff was uncomfortable or awkward with them, just that he was quiet by nature.

“So you never noticed him hanging around with anyone in particular? Someone that might have been a good friend of his,” Skip asked. He smiled at her. “We’re having a little trouble getting a handle on this guy.”

Mrs. Forsythe stared at the ceiling in thought for a moment. Kate was thinking that she and Skip were getting a nice rhythm going here, asking alternating questions. And the woman seemed to be responding well to it.

Casually Mrs. Forsythe swung her feet around and put them up on the sofa, so that she was now sitting sideways on its arm. Her feet were bare. Her bright red toenails were just inches from Skip’s thigh. Smiling at him, she rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hand, providing him with an excellent view of her cleavage.

“I’m trying to remember who I’ve seen him with the most. Probably Henry Morris. They seemed to have been buddies. Although how Jeff could put up with that old sourpuss, I’ll never know.”

She wiggled her toes and edged them slightly closer to Skip’s thigh. He struggled not to look down, and not to pull away.

Kate was working so hard to keep a neutral expression on her face that she had missed her cue. “Uh, so Mr. Morris was his friend.” Skip stepped into the void. “Did he have any enemies that you know of?”

Mrs. Forsythe shook her head. “I can’t imagine anyone disliking him. As I said, I didn’t know him well, but he always struck me as a very sweet man.”

“That’s how everyone’s been describing him, ma’am,” Skip confirmed.

“I thought I told you to call me Ellen,” Mrs. Forsythe scolded him. Her right big toe was now bumping against his thigh.

Suddenly
Ellen
snapped her fingers. “You know, I just thought of something. I’ll bet he was gay.” She used her mock surprise as the excuse to swing her legs back to the floor and slide down onto the seat of the sofa. “That would explain a lot, wouldn’t it? But I’m surprised I didn’t pick up on that sooner. My gaydar’s usually better than that.”

“Ma’am…uh, Ellen?”

Ellen gave a fake little laugh. “Oh, Mrs. Huntington, I’ll bet you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” She turned back toward Skip and patted his thigh. “Women can usually tell when a man is gay, because they don’t put off any vibes that they’re attracted to you.” Once again she was practically purring.

Ho, boy, did Liz nail it,
Kate thought. Ellen was now watching her with a sly smile, as she patted Skip’s thigh again. Then Kate had a truly nasty thought.
Ho’s the right word for this woman!

Once again she had missed her cue.

“Mrs. For…I mean, Ellen.” Skip turned slightly toward the woman, using the motion to actually put a little bit of space between them. “This is really helpful to us.”

Pay attention, Kate
, she admonished herself. “Yes, very helpful, ma’am,” she said out loud, giving the bitch her warmest smile. “But I’m wondering if we could ask you about something else. Someone mentioned, I can’t remember who at the moment, that Mr. Forsythe was a retired science teacher.”

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with any of this.”

“Well, of course we’d like to talk to him about it, but since he’s napping, maybe you can help us in the meantime,” Kate said, trying to distract Mrs. Forsythe as Skip gradually eased a bit further away from her. “Detective Lindstrom let slip that there was a certain chemical involved in some of these crimes. He wouldn’t give us any details, but we…”

Struck by a sudden inspiration, Skip jumped up and started pacing around the room. “Damn, what was the name of that stuff? I can’t remember and it’s driving me crazy.” He paced across in front of the sofa, taut muscles rippling beneath snug slacks. “Chlorodine, no that’s not it…”

He turned and faced Mrs. Forsythe, standing just beyond her reach. Kate caught a glimpse of mother of pearl and gunmetal sticking out of the back of his waistband as he reached up and grabbed some of his hair, tugging on it, elbow high in the air.

“Chlorine… no that’s not it either…”

It dawned on Kate that Skip was intentionally flashing a view of his abs at the woman.

“Damn… Help me out here, Kate.”

“Chloroform,” she dutifully responded.

“Yeah, that’s it!” He lowered his arm and flashed a grin in Kate’s direction, then turned the grin back toward the woman on the sofa. “Doncha just hate it, Ellen, when you can’t think of a word.” He walked over to the other armchair. “It’s just danglin’ there on the tip of your brain.” His voice now slowed to a drawl as he sat down and leaned slightly toward Mrs. Forsythe. “And ya just can’t seem to wrap yer tongue around it.”

Kate had trouble stifling a laugh as
Ellen
licked her lips. The woman was leaning so far forward, Kate thought she might slip right off the sofa.

“So Ellen, since you’ve lived all these years with a scientist, maybe you’ve heard him talk about chloroform,” Skip said. “We’re tryin’ to find out more about what it’s used for, how someone’d go about gettin’ it, stuff like that. ’cause ya never know what little piece of information might turn out to be the
key
that unlocks the
door
in an investigation like this.”

Kate was carefully watching the woman’s face and body language. Other than licking her lips again, there had been no reaction to any of the well-placed words in Skip’s little speech. No flash of fear in the eyes, no going suddenly still, no lifting her head in surprise or alarm at the mention of chloroform, key or door.

The room had fallen silent. Finally Mrs. Forsythe realized she was the one who was supposed to be talking. She shook her head. “No, I don’t recall my husband ever mentioning chloroform. All I know is that it used to be used in hospitals sometimes, to put people under for operations, you know, before modern anesthesia was developed.”

She gave a little laugh. “Like in those old movies when they’d put the mask over the patient’s face and say, ‘Now, breath deeply and you won’t feel a thing.’” She imitated a male doctor’s voice. Having recovered herself a bit, she smiled more naturally at Skip and fluttered her eyelashes. “I guess that’s not a whole lot of help though, is it?”

“Well, actually it just might be, Ellen.” Skip beamed at her. “Maybe that was how it was used here. Could be the killer put some chloroform on a piece a cloth and used it to knock his victims out, so then he could do whatever he wanted to them, without a struggle.”

Again, no reaction to this scenario. But the woman’s expression was becoming more calculating by the second. Kate suspected
Ellen
was trying to come up with an excuse to get her to leave and Skip to stay.

Okay, Skippy, time to get you out of here
. Kate glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Skip, we’ve got to be getting back. Thank you for your time, ma’am.”

Skip ignored her for a beat and continued to beam at Mrs. Forsythe. “Skip!” Kate said sharply.

“Oh yeah. Sorry, Kate.” He jumped up. Before Mrs. Forsythe was halfway to standing, they were both at the door. “No need to get up, ma’am. We’ll let ourselves out. Thanks for all your help,” Skip said, as they bolted out of the apartment.

Kate and Skip race-walked to the building exit and, once outside, jogged around the corner of the building. By unspoken agreement they headed for the bench.

Skip got there first and flopped down on it, holding his sides and laughing. Abiding by the new four-foot rule, Kate collapsed onto the grass. “Oh, man, nobody’s going to believe us when we tell them about this interview,” Skip said, gasping for air.

“I think we’ll leave out most of the details,” Kate replied, when she had her own laughter somewhat under control. “That was a stellar performance, Skip. The little belly dance maneuver was downright inspired.” She started giggling again. “The poor woman was awestruck.”

“Thanks.” Skip smiled down at her. “I liked that subtle little jealous snit of yours at the end. It’s a good thing I didn’t come alone. She would have eaten me alive. But did it occur to you to wonder where her old man really was?”

“Indeed, it did,” Kate said. “After the first few minutes we forgot to keep our voices down. Unless he’s stone deaf or sleeps like a log, we must have woken him up. I kept expecting him to pop out of the bedroom and challenge you to a duel.”

“Why would she lie about him being there if he wasn’t? Or if he was there, why wouldn’t he come out if we woke him up?”

“I don’t know. That was the only strange thing about the whole interview. She didn’t react at all to any of the buzz words you threw out there. She’s not a very good actress, so I’d bet my last dollar that she wasn’t our intruder. And Mr.
Ellen
is too big.”

“You said he might be a heavy drinker. Kind of early in the day for it, but maybe he was passed out drunk,” Skip said.

“Could be. That would explain why she didn’t seem too worried about coming on to you, with him right in the next room.” Then Kate snapped her fingers and mimicked Ellen Forsythe’s higher pitched voice. “You know, I just thought of something.
Maybe
the man in her bedroom wasn’t her husband.”

Skip grinned at her Ellen impersonation. “What did you make of her gaydar comment? I was a bit surprised to hear a woman in her sixties using that term.”

“All part of her trying to seem young and hip. Paul Johnson said Jeff wasn’t gay and I’m inclined to trust his assessment over hers. I think it’s more likely that
Ellen
scared the crap out of poor Jeff, so he acted awkward around her.”

“And of course she would need some explanation for why her considerable charms didn’t entice him, so she concludes that he’s gay,” Skip said, standing up.

From her seat on the ground, Kate grabbed the arm of the bench to pull herself to her feet. Skip reached down to offer her a hand.

She pulled back, shaking her head. “Nunh-uh. No touchy, remember.”

“Well, darnation! I almost had the innocent maiden in my clutches,” Skip said, imitating the evil villain’s voice from old cartoons. He twirled the ends of an imaginary mustache. “I will tie her to the railroad tracks yet.” He laughed diabolically.

“Darnation? Is that a word?” Kate was now standing, brushing the grass off her clothes.

“I’m not sure. There’s another socially acceptable expletive that the cartoon villains used to use but I can’t think of it right now.” Then he started jumping around, clutching at his hair. “Oh, doncha just hate it when you can’t think of a word. And it’s right there on the tip of your brain… Help me out here, Kate.”

Kate laughed. “Oh, stop it or I’ll go tell Ellen that you’re all hers.”

“Oh, no, a fate worse than death.” They started back toward Betty’s building, keeping a healthy distance between them.

After a moment, his face sobered. “Actually, I was starting to get a pretty good sense of what women must feel like when some obnoxious guy is coming on to them.”

“She did have you cornered there for a minute,” Kate said. “But I was prepared to come to your rescue. She may be a fitness nut but I probably could still take her, since I’m about thirty years younger than her.”

They walked in companionable silence for a couple minutes, Skip still processing the experience. “You know what dawned on me,” he finally said. “In the back of my mind, while most of my brain cells were madly looking for an escape route… I realized that she was no physical threat at all. I could pick her up and throw her across the room. What was keeping me feeling trapped were social conventions. You’re trying to keep things polite, not be blatantly rejecting or obnoxious. Meanwhile the… aggressor, for lack of a better word, is getting more and more blatantly obnoxious. Until you’re backed into a corner.”

“Yeah, you’re playing by the rules but the other guy isn’t,” Kate said. “He, or she, is taking advantage of the fact that you’re trying to be nice about it. By the time you realize you need to stop being nice, the situation’s gotten a lot worse. For women, that may mean the guy’s maneuvered her into a spot where he can now physically overpower her.”

Skip stopped walking and turned toward her, a look of anxiety and sorrow on his face.

“No, that’s never happened to me, thank God!” she responded to the unasked question. “My encounter with Joe was the closest I’ve ever come, but I’ve heard variations of that story a thousand times from my rape survivor clients. That’s why I felt so stupid for letting Joe back me, literally, into that corner. I should’ve known better.”

“But that’s mostly hindsight now. You can’t blame yourself for not realizing ahead of time that he would be that way.”

Kate stared at him for a beat from across the width of the sidewalk. He had just said exactly the right thing, almost the same words she used with clients. “Have I told you, Mr. Canfield, that one of the many things I like about you is how astute you are?”