Death By a Dark Horse

Chapter Sixteen

I got home shortly after four o'clock, took what remained of the chocolate ice cream out of the freezer, grabbed a spoon, and called Jonathan. I didn't even bother to think before I dialed. My life was a living hell. I might as well face everything I was avoiding. I needed to talk to him about ending our relationship, and ask him what the hell he was thinking when he gave me Jacob Green's phone number.

Jonathan's secretary put me through. He was less than friendly. His tone suggested strongly I change my confrontational attitude.

"Jonathan, can we talk?"

"I've got a meeting."

"Later?"

"I'll be in meetings the rest of the day."

I looked at the clock. Four-ten. Meetings. Right. "Can we get together for dinner tonight like we planned?"

"I don't think there's much to talk about."

"Please?" Guilt stabbed me repeatedly. "I'm so sorry about what happened."

"I'll consider your apology."

Now that was just plain childish. I pushed my temper down. It would get me nowhere. "I need to talk to you. Please? You deserve an explanation. I really would like to see you. Please?" The man was making me beg. I probably deserved it.

"Seven o'clock. I'll meet you at Bernard's."

"Thank you," I said, but he'd hung up before I uttered the words.

I dipped into the carton for another spoonful of ice cream, but it was empty. Surprise. I had to stop eating like this.

You deserved that hang-up, Thea. He was a decent person and you betrayed him. You should change your name to Jezebel. And don't you ever criticize your sister again. At least she ended one relationship before she started another.

I tossed the empty ice cream container into the kitchen garbage and returned to my office.

Damn. I'd forgotten to ask him about Jacob Green. I wasn't going to call him back. Dinner was soon enough for that conversation.

At half past five my doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone and approached it with my heart in my throat.

"Who is it?" I said to the door.

"It's me – Delores. Glad you're taking some care answering your door. Now, let me in before someone sees me dressed like this."

I opened the door and did a double take.

"Wow," I said. "You look… you look…"

"Ridiculous?" she asked.

"No, stunning."

Gone was the usual blue jean and flannel shirt uniform. In its place, a heather gray, fitted suit, pale blue silk blouse and low pumps. Her short gray hair, usually barely combed, was styled. And she had makeup on. I didn't know she owned any. She had the willowy look of a senior fashion model. If it weren't for her vexed expression I wouldn't have recognized her.

"Are you going to stand there gaping at me or are you going to let me in?"

I let her in. She shouldered out of her jacket and tossed it on a chair.

"Just got back from Valerie's funeral," she said, taking her earrings off and dropping them in her purse.

My hands shot to my mouth. "I forgot. I suppose I should have been there."

"No. I don't think so." Delores dropped her purse on the floor next to the chair. "I would have reminded you if I thought it was a good idea, but under the circumstances I think it best you stayed away."

She had a good point.

"The place was packed," she continued, on her way to my kitchen. I followed. "Mostly friends of her parents, I think. Besides Henry and Vi, I didn't see too many horse people there. Greg was there, of course." She took a bottle of juice out of my fridge, poured herself a glass, and drank it down. "He was holding court, telling anyone who'd listen how upset he was he'd lost his fiancée. I heard him tell someone Valerie's parents were seriously considering giving him her farm since he was living there anyway. According to him, they consider him part of the family."

I sat down at the table, impressed with her eavesdropping skills, and aware I must have just missed Greg on my little jaunt to Valerie's estate.

"I went out to Valerie's earlier for a little look-see," I confessed.

"Damn lucky you didn't run into Greg."

"I didn't know he was living there. Otherwise I wouldn't have gone."

"Find anything?"

"No, nothing. Valerie was not expecting any horses to arrive. But then I kind of found out why when I talked to Detective Thurman."

"She was already dead when Blackie was taken, I expect."

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Didn't. Guessed. Nothing else makes sense. So, what did Thurman want?" Delores pulled out a chair and sat.

I told her about the false bill of sale, and about the witness who claimed to have seen me near Valerie's at the time of her death. And how Thurman was on the edge of arresting me.

"What about your attorney? What did he say? Is he worried?"

"He said if they thought they had a case I wouldn't have been allowed to walk out the door."

"That makes sense." He jaw worked for a moment while her eyebrows met in a knot above her nose.

"I'm still worried, though," I said, hoping to prompt her into voicing her thoughts.

Delores straightened in her chair and patted my hand. The lines across her forehead relaxed. "I think it will work out fine. You've got a good attorney and a lot of friends to stand by you. You're not alone, you know."

"I'll be a little more alone after this evening," I said. She raised her eyebrows, questioning. "I'm meeting Jonathan for dinner at Bernard's, and I'm going to call it off."

"Good. You'll feel better. I understand you had a little excitement last night." She slid a casual look at me.

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. Who hadn't heard? I looked at her through my finger.

She smiled. "You look lower than a cross-rail for a pony. What'd my dumb-ass nephew do this time?"

"Jeez," I said, mortified. "It was my fault."

"You don't scream at people, normally. At least I've never seen it, and Valerie always tried her best to provoke you. What happened?" Her tone was matter of fact, but amusement touched the set of her mouth.

"We had a drink at The River's Bend, then went for a walk." How was I going to explain this to his aunt? "Jonathan was in town – I didn't expect him – and he saw Paul kiss me. He confronted us and we all yelled at each other. I walked home." That was it in fifty words or less.

"That dumb-ass," she repeated, but the smile was gone. "I told him he'd better leave you alone until you had your life sorted out, but does he listen? No. What does his old, uneducated aunt know? A sight more than a cocky thirty-five-year-old, over-educated bonehead with no self-control." She got up, poured herself another glass of juice, and sat again. "No wonder his last girlfriend kicked him out – not that she was any prize. There are times that boy doesn't have two working brain cells to rub together. I ought to kick his butt from here to next Tuesday."

"It wasn't entirely his fault," I protested.

"Don't be stupid, girl, of course it was."

"I -"

"And don't you start defending him, either." She gave me a severe scowl.

I gulped. "Aunt Vi said he didn't come home last night."

"Oh, don't worry about him. He probably spent the night in his office. He always does that when he sulks and feels sorry for himself." Delores gave a dismissive flip of her hand.

I was going to ask if he did that often, but instead I said, "Oh."

She rose from her chair when she'd emptied her glass. "Look, Thea. Don't lose a minute of sleep over Paul. You young people spend way too much time making mountains out of molehills. You've got other fish to fry right now, so I'd best go, and leave you to it." She was lapsing into clichés. The funeral must have been an ordeal. "Take care of what you can and stop worrying." She walked to the living room, slung her jacket over her arm, took a couple of steps, and doubled back to pick up her purse. "Promise me that, child." She gave me a stern look. "Promise me you won't worry."

"I promise." I wanted to hug her, but I knew she wouldn't tolerate it.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow when you come by for the receipts. By the way, what's Joey doing sitting out there in front of your house?"

"I don't know." But I wished he'd go away – and how did she know Joey?

"Humph. I heard he fancied himself Valerie's boyfriend. Before he went to prison, anyway."

Oh, great. "Really?" I said.

"Well, that's neither here nor there. Don't worry. Everything'll work out."

She left, hurrying down the walk to her car.

No, I thought, don't you worry. I intended to do everything in my power to clear myself of suspicion of Valerie's murder, but first I will quit letting one person in particular walk all over me.

I took care dressing for dinner because Jonathan would better understand the finality of my decision if it came from my gender-neutral, slacks and jacket, "business woman" persona. I wanted a clean break. Well, as clean as possible at this point. That would mean keeping a lid on my temper, too. I knew Jonathan well enough to realize if I got testy with him he would take it as a sign I was indecisive and drag out our break-up forever. Besides, being rude wouldn't make me feel stronger. I made mistakes, including staying with him because it was easier than breaking up. And, I'd let Paul sweep me off my feet when I was vulnerable. "Vulnerable" was the polite term for "needy" and "sex-starved." It was past time to take control and set my own course. Past time to jettison the distractions. Past time to take care of myself.

I arrived at Bernard's at precisely seven o'clock. I love this restaurant. The food is predictably excellent and the decor appealing. The walls are rough brick and mortar, and the tables and chairs, although plain dark wood, glow with polish. On every table, fresh flowers in tall vases sit amid sparkling glassware. Antique schoolhouse lights hang from the ceiling, giving off a gentle glow.

At the back of the dining room is a magnificent bar. The huge antique had been barged down from Alaska in several pieces when the Gold Rush era saloon it had occupied was destroyed in the big 1964 earthquake. William and Connie, the owners of Bernard's, had lovingly restored it and could be encouraged, without much prodding, to tell the entire tale of this thirty-foot-long piece of history. This was my turf. I squared my shoulders and walked in.

Jonathan sat at a table near the front of the restaurant, waiting. He stood when I approached and held the chair out for me. Our greeting was awkward, and though I tried to catch his eye, he avoided mine. He must have come directly from his office because he wore his dark blue pin-striped Armani suit, blue striped tie, and a crisp white shirt. Gold cuff links flashed when he took the menu from William, who gave me a slight smile and a nod of greeting.

Jonathan glanced at the menu in silence. I did the same although I already knew what I was going to order. I put my menu down after a moment and looked out the window. Jonathan ordered the salmon for us both. He was right about my choice, and a small stab of anguish pricked me. I'd been unfair in thinking he didn't notice my preferences. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe I was trying to push too much blame onto him.

"Jonathan, I want to apologize -"

"I suppose I should -"

We spoke simultaneously and stopped. Apprehensive, I waited for him to continue.

"You first." He smiled stiffly.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean or plan for anything to happen between me and Paul, and I don't believe he did either. It was a mistake, made worse by your witnessing it."

"Then you're not…?"

"No."

His expression seemed, right away, less acrimonious. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about Saturday evening. My mother was right. I should not have sprung my proposal on you like I did. I hope you'll forgive me."

"Of course." I smiled, feeling relieved. The tension evaporated. I could talk to him. He would listen and not overreact.

Connie brought our salads and gave me a small wink. She was one of Aunt Vi's weekly bunco card group. No doubt she knew why Jonathan and I were here. I had the distinct impression she was offering subtle support. I was touched, and smiled a thank you at her.

Jonathan started on his salad and missed the whole exchange. Just as well. He would have thought the familiarity improper. After only one bite he put his fork down and patted his lips with his napkin.

"I expect the sheriff will have everything cleared up by the end of the month."

"I hope so."

"So I made reservations for us at the Hilton in Tahoe -"

Relief evaporated and tension leapt back in. "Jonathan, no."

He pulled his chin in and frowned. "I thought -"

The shake of my head stopped him. "It won't work – you and me."

"It is Paul, then." He flattened his hand on the table with enough force to rattle the glassware. It didn't take a genius to figure out he thought I'd lied to him. I was half tempted to run with it, but I couldn't.

"This has nothing to do with Paul. This is about us. Only us. I'm sorry, but I can't ever be what you want and need -"

"Thea, don't be foolish. You need me right now. And I know if you work at it a little you can be exactly the wife, uh, woman I need."

"No."

"There's some pretty frightening people keeping their eyes on you and you aren't being careful. You need me. This is no time to pretend you can handle things on your own. Thea…" He reached across the table to touch my cheek, but I pulled back. His eyes widened slightly. "Your bruise – it's not as bad as I thought it'd be."

Then he shrugged.

The gesture hit me like the idiot-slap that follows a revelation. My insides went icy and still. Never mind the fact he assumed I was his to boss around. Never mind the fact he just noticed my bruises and didn't seem bothered. Never mind he didn't seem to notice my shock.

I never mentioned my injuries to him.

Someone else had.

He barreled right along, self-important as ever. "You really are naïve. Let me handle things. Work at your little business, ride your horse, and stop – stop all this fussing. Valerie's not a problem you should worry about. I'm taking care of you now." His blink was slow and satisfied.

"You! It was you. You told Frederick Parsons who my attorney was. You discussed me with him."

"What difference does it make?"

"What difference?" People at nearby tables glanced in our direction. I lowered my voice. "Where were you Saturday afternoon after you left my aunt and uncle's place?"

"I went home, of course." His eyes tightened. "What are you implying, Thea?"

"Just answer me."

"I don't think I have to be accountable to that tone of voice."

"No, you don't have to be accountable to me at all. It's over between us, Jonathan. Finished."

"You don't mean that."

"How much more direct do I have to be? I don't want you in my life."

A muscle worked in his jaw, and the fingers that attempted to caress my face a moment before closed in a fist. "You're under pressure right now. I'm sure once you think about it you'll see I'm right."

"Once I think about it, I'll wonder why it took me so long to break up with you." I picked my purse up off the floor and stood. "And please, don't do me any more favors." I turned and bolted for the door, barely missing a collision with William, who managed to dance out of my way without dropping the plates of food he carried. I spun toward him.

"That's my dinner, isn't it?" I snatched both plates from his hands before he could speak. "Jonathan will have them both." I marched back to where he remained frozen halfway out of his seat. "You can have my dinner too." I smiled sweetly and tipped the grilled salmon with hollandaise and asparagus down the front of his suit and into his lap, stacked the plates on top of his salad, and swept out of the restaurant, past a still stunned William.

Three women having dinner near the bar stood and applauded.

Once in my car, I sat and stared, unseeing, out the window. That bastard. How could I have been such an idiot? Well, no more.

Although I couldn't be certain he'd had anything to do with Valerie's death, I was positive he'd been talking to Frederick Parsons, maybe he was even involved with him and Joey. He certainly orchestrated some of what had been happening to me. Jonathan scared the hell out of me – tried to scare the hell out of me so I'd run to him. Thank God I figured out what he was like before it was too late, before I caved in and married him. He'd manipulated me for the last time.

As I turned the key in the ignition, insight clocked me between the eyes for the second time. The indignation Jonathan provoked in me shed understanding on Paul's wrath. He thought I had manipulated him, and he'd probably played that game before. In fact, I was sure of it. I groaned and thumped my forehead against the steering wheel. Why else would he have rebelled so strongly as a teenager? No way would he ever trust me now. I was poison. The hope Aunt Vi had conjured vanished like the illusion it was, but the remaining hollowness was real.

Within the sadness of that truth was a seed of something important I'd gained: the knowledge of a potential for far more depth and passion to a relationship than what I'd experienced with Jonathan. Now that I'd glimpsed it, I wouldn't settle for less. I just wished it hadn't been necessary to be clubbed over the head with the lesson.

I took a couple of deep breaths, and my stomach complained. The grocery store was on my way home. I'd grab something for dinner, and replenish the supplies my sister had pilfered from my pantry.

As I stood in the checkout line chatting with one of my neighbors, Donna Orr-Block walked into the store. Instead of her usual business attire she had on sweat pants and her softball jersey. She must have just come from a game or practice. I waved. She wheeled her cart over and joined our conversation – and lingered after I paid the cashier.

"I meant to give you a call," Donna said, her gaze darting to my bruised jaw for at least the fourth time.

"Horse accident," I said, knowing she wouldn't ask. She nodded. "Did I miss something on your taxes?"

"No, not at all. I wanted to thank you for being so alert and, um, I wanted to explain." She put her purse in her basket and straightened the hem of her shirt.

"That's okay." I watched her with interest, never having seen her stall for time to think.

She raised her chin. "It was such a stupid move on my part – that whole investment – I never should have agreed to it." She glanced around. No one was within earshot. "Now that Valerie's dead, well, I feel bad about some of the things I said. I'm sure Peggy told you."

"She told me a little." So, it was embarrassment that chased off her usual directness. "But you have nothing to apologize for. Valerie was pretty nasty to you."

She smiled, looking a bit less like she was facing the firing squad. "That's true. It was an unpleasant lesson to learn. It's myself I should have been angry with, not Valerie."

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Still, I'm the one with control over my finances. It was my decision. Valerie didn't steal from me." She nodded once, sharply, and anger etched lines in her face for a moment. "Speaking of Valerie…" She leaned toward me, her voice low. "Melanie Rucker's got to be one happy woman right now."

"Melanie?" I copied her whisper. "Why would Melanie be happy?" I recalled her leaving the sheriff's office parking lot on Monday, and Randy's temper tantrum. She'd looked none too pleased then.

A young couple who lived near Juliet wheeled their cart past and said, "Hi."

"Don't tell me you don't know," she said, her eyebrows disappearing under her short brunette bangs. I shook my head. "Valerie had been carrying on with Randy for the last few months. All hell broke loose a couple of weekends ago when Melanie found out at a horse show."

"You're kidding! I hope Jacquelyn wasn't there to see it." Their teenaged daughter helped her dad on weekends with training and showing. "Besides, I thought Valerie and Greg were engaged."

"Engaged?" Donna made a half laugh, half snort, then glanced around again. "If they were, then they sure weren't exclusive. Greg's been fooling around with Jacquelyn, too."

"What?" My shriek drew a few glances. I lowered my voice. "But she's a kid!"

"She'll be graduating from high school in June. She's old enough, I guess – old enough to exercise her own bad judgment, anyway."

I was floored. What a sordid little mess. Now I thought I knew why Melanie and Randy were at the sheriff's office on Monday. They'd undoubtedly been called in for questioning. That must have been interesting. But why had he been angry with me?

"How'd you find out about all of this?"

"Peggy, initially. You know she works at the Everett Times – 'gossip central.' I think they get more news that's not fit to print than the other kind. Everyone on my softball team knows now, too, since a couple of them have kids with horses."

"Wow," I said, still absorbing the information.

"And to think it was a horse accident that killed her. I'd have thought – well, it wouldn't have surprised me if someone deliberately went after her."

Annoyance that misinformation about Blackie's involvement in Valerie's death flared before the actual fact that she was misinformed sunk in. She should have known Valerie was murdered with such direct access to gossip central. "It wasn't an accident, Donna. Someone killed her."

The look of shock on her face seemed genuine.

Although our conversation ended on a different, less dramatic note, I revisited the gossip about Melanie and Randy as I wheeled my cart of bagged groceries out to the parking lot. The two red Ford Escorts parked next to each other swung my attention to a more immediate problem. I had to look at the license plates to tell which was mine. Good thing they didn't have interchangeable keys like I'd heard some older Saturns did.

I finished loading the groceries into my trunk and returned the cart to the queue. A quick glance in the window of the other Escort revealed softball equipment – gloves, a couple of softballs, and bats. One of which was broken.

Donna's car.

I squashed my next thought before it was half-formed. I was imagining boogeymen under the bed.

I arrived home to find Juliet sitting on my front porch. She jumped up, dusted off the seat of her pants and met me at the curb as I parked my car.

"How'd it go?" she asked, looking worried.

"You knew I was meeting Jonathan?" I popped the trunk open.

"I think you might have told me. Did it go okay?"

I didn't remember telling her, but I didn't pursue it. Seems like everybody knew the details of my life right now.

"It went fine."

"Are you upset?"

"No, actually, I feel pretty good. Juliet -"

"Oh good." She put two fingers in her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle.

"Was that necessary?" My ears were ringing.

"I was letting Eric know he could come over."

A car door slammed. "You're calling him like a dog now?"

"It was his idea," she said defensively, taking the plastic bags I handed to her. "He didn't want to intrude if you were upset and wanted to talk to me alone."

Great. Another missed opportunity to talk to Juliet about her interview with Thurman. No offense to Eric, but I didn't want him in on the conversation.

Eric strolled over, said hello, and carried the remaining bags into the house. After helping me put the groceries away he pulled out a chair next to Juliet at the kitchen table, and stretched out his long blue-jeaned legs. Juliet gave him an appreciative once over. I put the kettle on for tea and brought mugs, tea bags, and biscotti to the table.

"Thea said everything ended okay with Jonathan," my sister informed him.

He took her hand lightly in his. "That's good."

She turned back to me. "No fireworks at all? Not even a little?"

"Not really."

Juliet chuckled. "Man, that's good, because after last night, with all that screaming and yelling you guys were doing downtown, and right after all that passionate making out-well, I figured you were going to have at it again tonight, 'cuz remember last week when I was bugging you about how boring your life was and you said you'd cut loose a little sometime soon? Oh, too, too funny. I thought you were trying to shut me up. But whoa, mama, don't you think you kinda overdid it a bit yesterday?"

My sister, once again, stunned me speechless.

"Juliet," Eric said, "I don't think you're being fair here."

"Oh, I don't know. My big sister is stirring up some good gossip in town, what with the mur -"

"Juliet," he said sternly. "Don't tease her."

She stopped abruptly, her previously lively expression changing to one of concern. "Oh, gee, I'm sorry, Thea. I didn't mean to upset you. I guess it must have been pretty bad for you to lose your temper like that at someone besides me." She looked at Eric and bit her lip. He smiled gently at her and squeezed her hand.

"It's okay," I said, even though it wasn't. It was my fault, not Juliet's. "It was pretty unpleasant, though. I feel bad about it." No point in denying it.

"I think Paul was pretty unhappy, too," Eric offered.

Regret swept over me. I looked at Eric, who suddenly displayed a great deal of interest in the biscotti. The tea kettle whistled. Juliet got up, took it off the range and poured boiling water into each mug.

"You've talked to him?" What horrible things had he said?

Eric submerged a tea bag in his mug with a spoon and stirred it with fascination. "Uh, no. He called and left a message telling me he was going to be busy and didn't think he'd be able to make practice this week."

"Oh." I tried not to sound as relieved as I felt. Then again, maybe Paul did say something and Eric was protecting my feelings. It would be like him to be kind. The silence in my kitchen felt desperate.

"We need to go," Eric said, without finishing his tea. "It's my turn to do the evening barn check."

He got up from his chair and stretched. Yeah, I saw why Juliet had a hard time keeping her eyes off him. A sudden yearning for Paul put an extra twist in my heart. My sister and Eric were lucky. They liked each other despite the physical attraction.

I walked with them to Eric's car. Frederick Parsons's black Mercedes was parked down the street, but I didn't mention it. I was too exhausted to expend what little energy I had left on someone who could think of nothing better to do than keep tabs on me.