Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery (6 page)

It’s a so-so movie, black-and-white with subtitles.
Duncan is thoroughly engrossed, but all I can think about is Paul
and the past. We spent only four months as a couple, but every
memory replays in gold-tinged slow motion. Our first kiss. Our
first night together. We were so in love. So passionate.

But the sad thing is, I don’t remember what we
talked about. Did we share our hopes and dreams, or trade stories
about our pasts? Come to think of it, most of what I knew about
Paul came from Susie or Del.

I sneak a look at Duncan, his mouth open to receive
the single bloom of popcorn, and realize I know almost as much
about him as I do Paul.

Duncan must sense my distraction because he leans
into my ear. “Great movie.”

I nod and try to focus on the screen.

It’s four o’clock. Duncan and I stand in front of my
door. We’re in another discussion about the job. He’s been trying
to persuade me to check Perkins, Travis, a local firm dealing in
corporate real estate. He’s offering to set up an interview, when
my phone rings.

“
You need to get that?”

I shake my head. “The machine will catch it.”

I can hear Paul’s voice leaving a message, then
silence.

Duncan can hear it too, but doesn’t pay much
attention. Instead, he stands there staring at me. I think he’s
trying to decide whether I want him to kiss me. I don’t, at least
not now, so I give him a peck on the cheek, smile my brightest
smile, and jam the key in the lock. “Thanks for the movie. See you
tomorrow.”

I ignore his dejection and begin to edge into my
apartment. Before I can close the door, Duncan grabs my hand and
stops my retreat. “What happened this weekend?”

I can’t believe I’ve been that transparent. “Why do
you ask?” “You shoveled your popcorn and never stopped jiggling
your right leg. I bet you can’t tell me what the movie was about.”
He’s moving inside my door now and shutting it behind him.

Did I do that? Scarf my popcorn? Jiggle? But
Duncan’s right, I can’t remember one thing about the movie except
it was a French black-and-white.

I’ve got to get him out of here before Paul calls
again. “I guess I’m just overly tired. My girlfriend is having
marital troubles and we stayed up all night talking. I’m sorry I
was so distracted.”

Duncan relaxes. “If that’s all, I’ll beat it so you
can get some shut-eye.”

When he gets to the door, he turns, voice low. “I
care a lot about you, Allie. I guess you’ve already figured that
out.”

I nod mutely, lifting my hand in salute. When the
door snaps shut, I head for the machine.

Paul’s messages come on the half-hour, each filled
with declarations of love. Weekends anyplace I choose, the jet at
my disposal.

When the phone rings, I let the machine take it and
hear panic in his voice. “I know you got to the Hobby terminal
safely and I’ve checked the police for any accidents. Where are
you, Allie? Or are you there and don’t want to talk? Please don’t
do this to me. Not after this weekend. Not after you’ve given me
reason to hope.”

To my surprise, I find myself analyzing his urgings
instead of responding to them. He’s offering everything I’ve
dreamed of for the past seven years. Why can’t I pick up the phone,
tell him I love him? I reach for the receiver, then yank my hand
away and stand staring at the machine.

The tape whirrs on in silence, then beeps, signaling
the caller to disconnect and Paul begs, “Allie. Please.”

When he finally breaks the connection, I turn off
the telephone and the answering machine and head for bed.

Sleep doesn’t come easily, giving me most of the
long, dark night to do some serious thinking.

On the ride back to Anacacho from Paul’s hideaway, I
treated myself to a small dream of a future with him. But at lunch,
his volatile behavior toward Del, followed by his abrupt departure,
gave me pause.

Despite Paul’s denial, Susie’s news of the other
woman and Reena’s confirmation about someone named Fanny becoming
the next Mrs. Carpenter still echo in my mind, drowning Paul’s
pleas for a new beginning.

I punch a hole in my pillow and settle into it. The
game plan has changed. Paul and I have changed. Time does that
whether we want it to or not. What kind of future could we possibly
have?

IT’S THE LAST MONDAY IN APRIL. I have mixed emotions
as I watch the grand jury pose for their “class” picture, then file
out of the hearing room for the final time.

The panel—one of my best—included people from varied
financial, ethnic, and racial backgrounds. The foreman: an
insurance executive, eligible bachelor, and man-about-town. He’s
going to ask me out and I’m going to say no. Despite all this, I’m
looking forward to the brief hiatus before the three-month May
grand jury term begins.

I force myself from the air-conditioned building
into the glare, and the heat knocks the breath out of my lungs.
Spring is short in Houston. A week max, that occurs in early March.
Today, the temperature is already in the high eighties with
matching humidity. All we can do is pray for one more puny push
from the north before the sauna kicks on for a good nine months,
carrying the miserable summer and early fall seasons “to term.”

Duncan’s voice curls over my shoulder. “Going back
to the office?”

I turn and look into a longish face that ends in a
nice square chin. The mouth is a shade too wide and the nose a bit
too long to fill the allotted space, but all-in-all he’s not
bad-looking.

The thick load of files, clasped to my chest, bulges
between us. “I sure don’t plan to lug these home.”

“
How did the interview go with
Perkins, Travis?”

“
Great. Besides being impressive
attorneys, I like them very much. I’m hoping they’ll make an
offer.”

Duncan grins. “And I have an offer for you. Tonight
I’m featuring a terrific pesto over penne. How about it?”

I have avoided dining “in” since my return from
Anacacho and Duncan’s been a brick about it. Instead, we eat out,
judiciously halving the tab, then usually hit a movie.

I’m back to the proper popcorn consumption level
now, and haven’t jiggled my foot once. We are still trading nice
long kisses, but only outside my front door. I’m relieved that
Duncan hasn’t pressed me, and hope it’s because he’s serious about
a long-term commitment.

It’s been almost three months since I made my
decision not to see Paul. The following day I bought Caller ID.
Just as I was installing it, Susie phoned to report she delivered
and little Allie was feeding like a hungry puppy. She promised to
call once she was settled at home and that was that.

For the next few weeks Paul called several times a
day. After a few long, impassioned tries, the messages abruptly
stopped.

I have to admit there were times I thought about
Paul and what he said that soft January morning, but not with the
longing I once felt.

Duncan gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Well? What
about it?” “Your offer’s too good to pass up. Nobody makes pesto
better than you. Chianti Classico or Montepulciano?”

His eager grin throws his whole face off-kilter.
“You choose. Come up about seven.”

Dinner is divine. I help Duncan clean up and we
settle on his couch. It’s very comfortable to be in his arms and
feel his lips on mine. For the last two months Duncan has let me
make the moves, but tonight he wants more and he deserves it.

It’s time to tell him about Paul.

I move away and say, “We have to talk.” He tries to
pull me to him.

“
Please, Duncan.”

He lets me go. “Want some wine? I have a feeling
this is serious.”

After he fills two glasses and sits, I give him a
brief synopsis of my relationship with Paul, carefully omitting the
pregnancy. Frankly, I’m torn about not giving full disclosure, but
what happened was so many years ago and I dealt with my loss as
well as I could. Still, I know how the past can sometimes jump up
and bite you in the rear.

“
I appreciate your honesty,
Allie.”

He takes my hand in his. “I owe you the same.”

Damn. I’m not into true confessions. Not now,
anyway. I scramble to break the moment, but find no way to do that
without seeming callous.

“
You once asked why I left
Chicago. Remember?”

I nod. “But it’s really not necessary to...”

“
I was engaged to my boss’s
daughter. I thought she was the one, but when it came down to
actually planning the wedding, I balked. Joe Pine, our illustrious
DA, is Mother’s half-brother. He took me in until I could find a
place to live and helped me get the job.”

I smile. “Seems we both have a past. So let’s be a
little careful.” Duncan smiles back, his voice buzzy. “I love you.
Is that okay?”

When I find my own words, they’re a little buzzy,
too. “I love you right back and it’s more than okay. But I need a
little time.” He gathers me to him and whispers, “Do I have a
choice?”

It’s after nine-thirty when I open the door to my
apartment. Though I’m still “intact,” the level of intimacy between
Duncan and me has accelerated.

I regard this new plateau in our relationship as
sort of a promise of a promise. Since we declared our feelings, it
seemed a little silly not to allow a greater range of latitude
between us and, it was all I could do to put on the skids.

Duncan knew all the right moves, yet I never felt
pressured to do anything I wasn’t willing to do. It was actually
his choice to stop when we did, but he made the suggestion with
grace and diplomacy.

We were still sort of in our clothes when he kissed
the base of my throat and said, “This has to be your call, Allie.
Is it my bed or the door?”

I knew he meant it. I still don’t know why I chose
the door, but when I did, he kissed me long and hard, then moved
away so I could put myself together.

“
I guess I better get out of here
before things get worse.” “Things are pretty bad right now,” Duncan
whispered. “In fact, I’m about to ask you to reconsider.” “How
about a rain check?”

“
How about tomorrow
night?”

I nodded, then slipped away and through his
door.

I barely notice the blinking light on my machine
because I’m still decompressing from being wrapped in Duncan’s
arms. When it grabs my attention, I wander over and idly push the
play button.

Susie’s voice is broken with sobs. “I don’t know how
to tell you this except straight out. Reena’s dead. You have to
come, Allie. I’m sure Paul will send the jet. Please don’t say
no.”

I’m shocked by my reaction to the news. It’s as if
some great hand ripped a hole in my stomach. All I can see is
Reena, shiny blonde cascades framing her porcelain face. Those huge
blue eyes. I can almost hear that croaky laugh as she describes the
latest cockamamie stunt for the evening.

Tears stream as I call Duncan. He’s here in seconds.
Pours me a stiff drink and sits beside me until I’m calm enough to
have a few rational thoughts.

At his suggestion, I check the times of the
messages. Susie’s call was around eight. There were hang-ups at
eight-ten and eight-thirty.

We sit huddled together and wait in silence.

When the phone rings we both jump. I pick up the
receiver. It’s Paul.

“
Allie?”

“
Oh, Paul, I’m so sorry. When...?”
I can’t finish the sentence. “Last Friday. We fought. She took her
car.” He pauses. “I have to be honest. I was glad she went, but
when her mother called on Sunday, I told her she was visiting a
neighbor. Reena wasn’t many things, but she was a good daughter.
She didn’t let a weekend pass without talking to her family. First
thing Monday I went to the sheriff in Uvalde. They saw the buzzards
and found her.”

I shudder. “How did she die?”

“
They didn’t say. They’re not
giving out any information until they have all the
evidence.”

“
Where did it happen?”

“
At my place in the
mountains.”

“
But Reena doesn’t ride. How did
she get there?” Silence.

“
Paul?”

“
I don’t know, but I’m sure they
think I did it.”

I must confess that immediately occurred to me. But
then, I rationalize, Paul would be stupid to leave Reena’s body at
his private hideaway, a spot surrounded by rugged terrain,
accessible only by horseback.

“
Can you represent me?”

“
No, I can’t. I have next to no
trial experience. I’ve only been third chair in a child abuse case.
You need the best criminal defense you can find.”

“
But will you come?”

I cadge a glance at Duncan, who’s now alert. “I have
a week off before the next Grand Jury session.”

“
I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
There’s relief in Paul’s voice.

“
I should be able to clear things
up here by early afternoon tomorrow. Have the jet at Hobby by
three.”

I hang up and turn to see that Duncan’s face has
lost some of its sympathetic glow. “You’re going?”

“
I have to. Reena Carpenter was an
old friend and Paul is... was her husband.”

“
The Paul you told me
about?”

When I nod, his hands grasp my shoulders. “Let me
come with you. I’ll get a room at a motel. I’ll go to the funeral
with you, then we can come home.”

“
I can’t ask you to do that. What
about your caseload?”

“
Damn the caseload. Damn the law.”
He squeezes me hard and whispers, “I don’t want to lose
you.”