The Puzzle (19 page)

I slowly headed back toward my car. I tried to picture how altered my life had become and how I was no longer pursuing life, but my life was being pursued. Stephen’s death had reshaped my way of life in such a way that it was no longer familiar. Before, I was swept under his spell of overbearing personality, only to learn too late that if he didn’t see me, I didn’t exist. If I didn’t exist, he didn’t have to feel guilt or much else for me.

This truth triggered a bitter aftertaste, finally erasing the debatable image I once had of our marriage. I got in my car and took off. I was no longer fighting for his redemption. I was fighting for my liberation and no longer prepared to consider any possibility of failure. Why did he put both of our lives in jeopardy? A rush of anger washed over me and continued to linger for the rest of the way home. I stubbornly refused to give up, roll over and play dead.

Chapter 36

Shadow Dancing

I was bone tired and wired simultaneously, but fearful of stopping, even for a minute. My computer, although jammed and bulging with information, was useless because it wasn’t coughing up any answers. The screen silently glared back at me as the edges of my mind buzzed from caffeine. I had already done a load of wash, folded it and put it away: thinking the mindless repetitive task of this chore might help. I sat back down at my desk and paid all my bills on line. Still, no inspirations were forthcoming. I was about to read over some notes again when my phone rang. Relieved by the distraction and thankful for an excuse to get up, I crossed the room. I wasn’t making progress sitting there anyway.

“Hello,” I said.

“Sam, it’s me, Martha. We need to talk right away,” she said curtly.

“Sure. When? Where? You name it,” I said, concerned by her unexpected late night call.

This was totally out of character for her.

“Do you mind meeting me at the shop? I know it’s late, but…”

Well, of course she wouldn’t be able to drive out to see me: I had her car. “It’s all right, Martha. I’ll be right there. Just give me a few minutes to drive into town. You know, I could meet you at your apartment,” I suggested. “It might be easier for you. Then you wouldn’t have to walk in the dark.”

“No. I’ll meet you at the shop,” she said, firmly.

“…If you insist. Sure thing. No problem.”

“…Oh, Sam? Park out back, behind the shop.”

I didn’t like that. “Why?”

“I don’t want anyone to see us. I
have
to talk to you.”

Twenty minutes later, I parked in the back, and got out of the car. Martha materialized out of nowhere, startling me. I grabbed the car door to steady myself. “Is everything all right?”

“There’s something I think you should know.”

“How about we go inside. It’s a little chilly out here in the dark. I’ll make us some coffee.”

“No. Let’s talk here. I don’t want to attract any attention with the shop lights glaring, especially at this time of night.”

“Okay, go ahead.” I nervously looked around the parking lot. For what, I didn’t quite know. She had unnerved me by her guarded behavior.

“My conscience has been bothering me,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t so forthcoming before and just had to speak to you personally and not with any customers around and certainly not on the phone. You see, I clearly saw you leave the bookstore the other day with something tucked under your coat.”

I tried to make light of it. “And I thought I was being inconspicuous.”

“You made a terrible thief, Samantha. Why, it was written all over your face. Panic-stricken was a description that came to my mind. I sure hope you’re not thinking of changing your line of work. She paused. “…Want to tell me what it was all about?”

“I can’t, Martha,” I answered, as I tried to gauge where this line of questioning was headed. Maybe I could dance around this and still sound somewhat rational.

“And why not? It couldn’t be that bad. Could it?”

“Yes it could. Trust me on this. You don’t want to get involved.”

“Did your heist have anything to do with your shop being broken into?” she probed.

“It might,” I suggested, uneasily. She was putting two and two together too quickly and getting four. But that might not be what was going on here. Maybe she was fishing too.

Was it for herself, or for someone else?

I almost let my guard down, spilling everything, but quickly changed my mind. Maybe I should see what I could catch for a change.

“Look,” I admitted. “If you really must know, I found an open box containing some old letters that Stephen had written to Jenny awhile ago. I saw the box on an old desk out back when I was having tea with Betty and Hazel. I know I shouldn’t have stolen them, but I wanted to see what Stephen had to say. I thought I might have been mentioned in them.”

“Now, why would you worry about that?” she asked, suspiciously.

I was stumped for something to tell her. “…It’s personal.”

She was riveted, refusing to budge, physically or verbally. “You know, Samantha, I could go to Betty and Hazel and ask them myself,” she dared.

“But you won’t,” I tossed back brazenly, bracing myself for her next response.

She shook her head in the shadow of the dim streetlight. “No, but I sure hope you know what you are doing and getting yourself into. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Stranger things have happened around here and I don’t like it one bit.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to scare you.”

Well, that was pretty scary enough.

At that moment, I probably should have asked her what those strange things were, but I was trying to convince myself she believed me, and I didn’t want to open up another can of worms just yet. “Can I ask you something, Martha?”

“Sure, of course,” she said.

“Are those two women at the book shop all that trustworthy?”

“Who, those two old gossips? I guess as trustworthy as two alley cats looking for mischief.”

I shook my head. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Now, don’t you get yourself mixed up in anything you’re going to be sorry
for.
This town is infamous for its hearsay, scandals and rumors: some of which may be true mind you, but you better be careful what you say and
who
you say it to. I‘ve been around here a long time and some things are best left alone. You understand?”

“That’s what I am trying to do, Martha: understand what’s out there.” I had to know. “Tell me. What strange things have happened around here?”

“I…”

From somewhere in close proximity to us, a subtle crack of a branch interrupted our conversation. Could someone have followed Martha or me here? Is that why Martha was so secretive about our meeting arrangement? Was someone following her too? I whipped around to have a look. My heart skipping a beat, but I didn’t see anything at all.

“I guess it was a stray animal,” I whispered tentatively. I turned back to Martha, but she was no longer there. It was as though she had evaporated into thin air, leaving me isolated in the muted afterglow of the streetlamp’s shadow.

Chapter 37

Playing Jack

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Jack,” I said, as I sat in his handsomely decorated home office. His preference for working in the midst of leather, rustic wood furniture and wildlife prints on the walls reflected his personality. He had successfully created a man’s sanctuary that was not only warm, but also inviting.

“No trouble at all,” he replied. “I always make time for you, Samantha. Are you having any problems at the house or shop?”

“No, not at all, but could I please ask you a few more questions regarding Stephen? I know, I must seem like a pest, but you’re the only one I know who would have some of the more specific answers I’m looking for.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw, but he recovered smoothly. “Sure. I’ll try and be as helpful as I can. Go ahead. I’m all yours.” He methodically rocked in his leather desk chair, watching me intently.

“I don’t know how else to put this, Jack. Did you notice irregularities or differences in Stephen regarding you or any particular aspect of your business relationship?”

“You know, Samantha, I’ve mulled over and over in my mind what might have gone wrong, frustrated as all get out. But for the life of me, I can’t understand what happened to him, other than those numbers that bothered him that one and only time he mentioned it to me by phone,” Jack replied thoughtfully.

I sat forward. “Do you mind me asking what numbers they were?”

“No, of course not. He complained the dates weren’t matching up or something to that effect. He carried on something awful about it. He was really bothered by those numbers. He ranted and raved that someone must have tampered with the computer and changed some of the dates around. I assumed he meant ours. Now, I knew that wasn’t possible and told him to straighten it out. Either it was that or maybe we needed new software. I thought I had a bad temper. You should have seen him.”

“Did it ever get corrected?” I asked.

“I guess so, because the next time I spoke to him, Stephen said he finally figured it out. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but being the whiz he was, I wasn’t about to question him. I trusted him implicitly. If he said it was okay, then it was,” Jack replied, emphatically.

“And there were no other changes in him after that incident?” I asked.

“You know, the last time I spoke to you at the diner I kept thinking back to those last months talking with Stephen before he died, and I did notice a change in his demeanor. At first, it was slight though, and I brushed it off as nothing important. Maybe I should have paid closer attention when he came back to visit.”

“How noticeable were those changes?”

“Oh, he grew more reflective and quiet. He always tended to lean in that direction anyway, but he became withdrawn, as though something were eating at him. He was always looking over his shoulder. It was right after that problem with those numbers, come to think of it. We were so busy at the time, I guess I just didn’t stay on top of things like I should have, and regret that to this day. Maybe, there was something I could have said or done.” He rubbed his eyes and turned to look out the window, momentarily unable to continue.

“Jack. You can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have foreseen anything might happen to him, especially his car accident.”

He shrugged. “I’ll never know. I should have seen the signals and intervened. Something wasn’t right. I still have my doubts and a lot of questions that are unanswered, regardless.”

It finally registered, what he might be hinting at. “Are you suggesting that there might be something more to his accident?”

No one except the police and me knew about the tampered brakes.

Clearly upset, he turned back to me. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Samantha, but we need the whole story before all of us can have closure, don’t we?”

“Jack, let me assure you, my intent was not to upset you. I appreciate your frankness. You’ve always been straightforward with me regarding Stephen, and because of that, I’m very grateful. I just wish I had some answers for you.”

“That’s quite all right. I know you mean well, and that you’re bothered by a lot of unanswered questions yourself. Maybe, we’ll never find out all the answers.” He rounded his desk to go open the door for me. “I sincerely wish you luck, Sam.”

Barbara was walking down the hall and Jack called out to her. “Honey, will you show Sam out? I have to make some calls. You don’t mind do you, Samantha? I really have to get back to work.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and then turned toward his desk.

I walked to Barbara, who paused several feet away. I always marveled at what care she took in how she looked, even up here in the mountains. With her dark eyes and hair swept back and gathered neatly at the nape of her neck, she was very striking, and probably turned quite a few heads when she was younger. She was so sophisticated, while Jack was so rustic. They were complete opposites. I guess you could never figure out what attracted two people to each other, but find each other they did. They seemed happy enough. Her trim figure adorned in gray slacks approached me.

“Sam, how nice to see you again,” she greeted.

“Same here, Barbara. I feel guilty though,” I said, as we both walked down the hall toward the foyer.

“Now, why is that?” she said, turning to look at me.

“I think I may have dredged up some unpleasant memories with Jack, regarding Stephen just now, but I’m so frustrated in not knowing why he left so abruptly. It just doesn’t make any sense. He was happy coming here and helping Jack all those years. Why the sudden change?” I asked, as we approached the front door.

Barbara glanced back down the long hall, and then turned back to face me. Her hand was resting lightly on the doorknob, her voice in a low whisper. “Maybe, you should go and talk to Mike. Ask him about his record,” she said. “There are a lot of things that need to be settled around here and I think you are just the person to do it.”