Lethal Dose of Love (21 page)

“No, it might be good therapy.”

The chili was delicious. Mamie left at 7:30, expressing total exhaustion. Payton agreed. The past few days had sucked the energy from the whole town.

She went to her office and, before turning on a light, peeked out the window. Aden’s car wasn’t in his driveway. She wondered briefly where he’d gone, came up with no answer, then turned on her computer. She opened a new file and typed
Winter Chronicles
at the top of the page. Working from the outline she’d hand-written over the past weeks, Payton began the first chapter and somehow managed to immerse herself enough to finish seven pages. She did a spell check and word count, shut everything down and looked out the window again. 11:30. Aden still wasn’t home.

She dropped the curtain and went to the living room where she looked out again. No movement on the street. No lurking police vehicles. No stray cats. No Aden. Why was she watching for him? She enjoyed his company, but that was it.

Right, that’s why she’d wanted him to make love to her the other night.

That was nothing to do with him in particular.

The last time she and Cameron made love was the night before he died. Emotion brought tears. Tears brought an overwhelming need to be moving. Payton slipped into a jacket and went outside. She turned right and walked briskly, keeping her eyes averted from Aden’s house. Where was he?

Helen’s living room light glowed, but she saw no movement inside. With determined footsteps, Payton crossed the intersection at Main and Broadway. She slowed her pace near Claire’s house. The bluish glow of a computer shone through sheer curtains on the second floor. Payton hadn’t thought of Claire as a computer person. She wondered how MaryAnn fared and almost stopped to check but didn’t know if she was still with Claire.

Sylvie’s house sat diagonally across the street. No lights there at all. Sylvie’s Chrysler was in her driveway. Payton turned and retraced her steps home. Instead of going in through the front, she walked around to the patio. The extensive work had been worth it. The place looked wonderful, even in the meager light oozing out from the kitchen lamp. She sucked in cool air, deeper, deeper, until her lungs would hold no more. She blew it all out till her insides deflated, empty of the feelings that had rooted there since Sean’s death.

Payton went upstairs and undressed. For better than an hour, she watched shadows march across the ceiling, fighting the desire to close her eyes. Finally the compulsion to sleep became too strong. She got up and threw on a robe. She stifled the urge to see if Aden had returned home and went out on the deck. The bay looked peaceful and calm. Few lights shone on the opposite shore. Wispy clouds, like 70’s fishnet stockings, floated past, alternately obscuring then displaying the tiny wedge of moon. She lay on the lounge chair, pushing both hands through her hair before settling them inside the folds of her robe.

She would not sleep. Nightmares would be in full-assault mode. She scrunched her mind shut.

Appreciate the serenity. Don’t think about Sean. But the more she told herself not to think, the more she did. How had he uncovered her secret? “Conduct unbecoming a teacher.” Payton slammed her palms on the arms of the chair. Why had he investigated her in the first place? All she’d done was refuse to buy a very expensive painting from him. What was the big deal?

Payton suspected the “big deal” had very little to do with paintings and a lot to do with saving face. Multiple times she’d turned down his date requests in front of his townsfolk. She hadn’t fallen all over him and he couldn’t bear it. So he investigated and found the skeleton in her closet.

Cameron had been her strength during that terrible time with school authorities. He carted her off to Greenland where she moped while he conducted long distance business. In a month, she’d begun venturing out of the hotel. In three more weeks Cameron deemed her healed enough to return home where the fervor had died down and Payton could go out without feeling as though all eyes stared. Well, almost. She still watched people’s reactions, still waited for the signs of suspicion, fear, anger, but never said anything to Cameron. Four months later, he was killed in her kitchen. Like a child’s tower of blocks, Payton’s world had tumbled. But this time she didn’t have a shoulder to lean on, or a sensible voice promising things would be okay.

She crossed her bare feet; the pink nail polish looked iridescent. Sean said he had evidence. Where would he keep something like that? At home probably. Then she sighed. The police probably had it already. That’s why they’d been around. They were waiting for her to let something slip.

The doorbell sounded. Payton started violently as the plinky chimes echoed through the house. The image of two burly State Police officers, handcuffs at the ready, popped into her head. A throbbing began at the nape of her neck and thumped into her forehead. How bad would she be hurt if she leaped over the railing and made a run for it?

Chapter 24

Payton leaned her head against the cool glass, fingers squeezing the bridge of her nose. Inside, on the bedside table, the clock said 2:34. The bell rang again. The LCD display flickered to 2:35. Couldn’t they wait till daybreak? Not if they had a warrant. Not if they thought she’d run.

A third ring.

A fourth. More insistent. Payton stepped indoors, tightened the belt on her robe and tiptoed downstairs. Through the tall narrow window beside the door, hands were cupped around a face. A male face, flattened frighteningly against the pane.

She opened the door. Aden didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped inside and eased the door shut. “I saw your bedroom light on. I thought you might have had another nightmare.”

“I haven’t been to sleep yet. Aden, I don’t think I’m up to having company.”

He steered her toward the kitchen, sat her down and set a Pyrex bowl on the table. He fished a fork from the drawer. “Close your eyes.”

She heard him unsnap the lid. The most wonderful smell wafted at her: garlic and oregano, seafood and olive oil.

“Keep your eyes closed and guess.”

“Seafood fettuccini.”

“You peeked!”

“No, I didn’t.” She opened her eyes. “How did you know this is one of my favorite dishes in the whole world? And where did you get it this time of night?”

“You told me it was one of your favorites.”

“When did I say that?”

“The second day we met. I figured you wouldn’t have eaten today and thought this might be just what the doctor ordered.” He forked some of the food for himself.

“I did eat. Helen brought chili.”

Aden smiled slyly, stabbed a piece of crab and raised it to her mouth. Her stomach growled again. Two against one. She chewed, savoring the sheer wonder of the flavors.

“I found this recipe in an old cookbook of my mother’s.”

“You made this?” Suspicion overwhelmed the wonderful scents. So, where had he been all evening?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. Come on, you’re going to make a guy think he slaved all afternoon for nothing. A roll?”

“No thank you.”

The fork clattered to the table. He grasped her hands. Her first instinct was to pull away. Her brain suddenly cluttered with thoughts that had no place being there. She kept reminding herself Aden meant nothing; he was just a considerate neighbor. He’d be out of her life soon, just like everyone else she’d ever loved.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes.”

“Lean on me. I’ll be strong for you.”

“Aden, I can’t do that. I’ve got to learn to depend on myself. To face up to life.”

He laughed. “That sounds like analyst talk.”

She let a smile poke through the serious set to her lips. “It was, but she was right. How can I make it if I can’t depend on me to be there when I need me?” She laughed now. “That didn’t come out right.”

“I know what you mean.”

Aden held her for a long time. She listened to the steady bump-a-bump of his heart. She felt both energized and weakened at the same time. He put two fingers under her chin and tilted it up. His lips were soft and gentle at first. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her mouth and she accepted it inside. She returned the kisses.

His hand left her chin and traced a path down the front of her blouse. She felt each finger even though he put no pressure at all. She didn’t react when the fingers fumbled with the buttons. Nor did she stop him when he swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

Payton woke to the sunlight streaming through her bedroom windows. She rolled on her right side to put her arm around Aden, but found his side of the bed empty. The bedclothes were turned back and thoroughly rumpled, so it hadn’t been just an amazing dream. The shower wasn’t running. There was no happy whistling downstairs.

“Aden?” No answer. She really hadn’t expected one. He’d used her and gone home.

Payton rolled onto her stomach and cried into her pillow feeling as empty as the container of seafood fettuccini on the kitchen table. She sobbed for a very long time. A sound from downstairs made her squint at the clock, 9:30. Mamie.

She just about flung herself to the shower. Pausing only a moment to look at red-rimmed eyes in the mirror, Payton turned on the faucet and got hit with a blast of frigid water.

The aroma of brewing coffee trickled upstairs. She lifted her nose and sniffed, then smiled. Perhaps he hadn’t deserted her after all. Payton usually lingered in her closet choosing just exactly the right outfit, but today she picked the things closest to her hand.

Downstairs on the counter was one plate containing a cellophane-wrapped muffin. One spoon, one knife, one fork. He’d set the timer on the coffeemaker.

The sudden urge for tears was pushed aside as she noticed a sheet of her pink notepaper propped against the plate.

My Dearest,

I have to leave town. An emergency I must tend to. More sorry than I can say. Last night was wonderful. Please call my cell phone if you need anything. Anything.

Regards, Aden

The second
anything
was bolded. He’d traced over the letters so many times the pen had cut a slit in the paper. She crumpled it and tossed it into the wastebasket, poured a cup of coffee, savoring the first sip and letting it slid down her throat. Hot, smooth, sweet. Just like his gentle yet mind-blowing lovemaking.

Payton gave an indignant huff and dumped the remaining coffee down the sink. She turned off the pot and choked down the newest barrage of regrets. As she picked up her raincoat and umbrella, intending to take it back to work, the front door opened and Mamie whooshed in.

“Good morning,” she chirped. “What a beautiful day. Isn’t life wonderful?”

“It is.” Payton went to her office and put yesterday’s bookkeeping and an order printout for plants into her backpack. She slipped the straps over her shoulders and said good-bye to Mamie, who had already busied herself refilling the spaces of the three items she’d sold yesterday.

“See you later,” Mamie twittered, sounding like the robins on the front lawn.

They hopped and pecked and plucked worms without a care in the world. Payton, her legs feeling as heavy as lead, walked to work. She passed Aden’s house, determined not to look for his car in the drive. But her brain had other ideas and turned her head in that direction anyway. No car.

In the doorway of her shop, she absorbed the aromas of herbs and flowers and soil hoping they’d help improve her mood. They did, a little. She inhaled one last time before moving the ficus trees outside to the sidewalk. She picked off a few dead leaves and tried not to think about Sergeant Espinoza’s official vehicle parked in front of the café. A second car bearing the Coast Guard logo was parked behind his. She saw movement inside the restaurant and a number of people near the windows.

Payton put the money into the cash register drawer and set the timer for the water on the patio. She placed a phone order: a dozen African violets, three each of oregano, thyme and sage, a dozen mixed ivy and a half-dozen monkshood. The front door opened and two women entered. Payton gave them a brief glance and a good morning. She shut off the patio water. The women browsed for a half hour, bought the last of the miniature African violets and left without asking any questions or making the slightest reference to Sean.

Payton sat on the stool behind her counter and put her head in her hands. Did the authorities think she had a motive to want Sean dead? Was it enough motivation to want her past to remain hidden? Most definitely yes. What if she swore Sean never told her what he’d learned?

At 1:00, Sergeant Espinoza and another officer stood on the sidewalk in front of the café. Espinoza held a sheaf of papers in his left hand and shook them in the air while he spoke. Once or twice they glanced toward Payton’s shop but neither made a move to cross the street.

An excited female voice called from somewhere up the hill. “Officers! Officers, wait.” Felicia, shopping bags flopping against her hip, ran across to them. Even though Payton’s door yawned open and she wasn’t standing more than two feet from it, the hum of the occasional vehicle obliterated the rest of her words. Felicia seemed different today. Her face was animated. First she said something, then glanced from one officer to the other as though waiting for a reply. They remained calm and serious. Said nothing. Once, Sergeant Espinoza sneaked a glance at Payton’s shop. Almost immediately his eyes flickered away
.
In that briefest of glances, she knew they were talking about her.