Monkey Wrench (23 page)

“No, no,” said Liza. “I brought those old photos I told you about.”

Remarkably, Liza began to rummage in her handbag and came up with a packet. Rose accepted the handful of fragile old photos and stepped closer to the light to examine the faded faces that looked up at her. “Why, yes,” she said softly, gazing at many of her old acquaintances and letting the memories swim up in her mind. “Here's your grandmother,” she said to Liza, pointing to one picture. “Wasn't Margaret a beauty? She looked very much like you, dear.”

Liza pointed to one of the men standing by Margaret's chair in the photograph. “Who's that?”

“Roddy,” Rose said promptly. “I forget his last name, but he was one of Margaret's friends from Chicago. A wonderful dancer and quite a card player, I recall. He and Margaret were...well, very close.”

Bluntly, Liza asked, “Was he her lover?”

“I'm not sure,” Rose said uneasily. “But probably. My dear, Margaret had many friends. If you'd like me to keep these pictures for a while, I'd be happy to try to remember the names. But I didn't know Margaret intimately. I don't know who killed her, if anyone did. I only know it couldn't have been Judson. He's a kind man. And he loved her.”

Liza shivered. “Then maybe there's a killer still on the loose in Tyler.”

Rose gave the young woman a small smile. “I'm sure there are a great many secrets floating around Tyler, my dear. Some of them are best left buried.”

“And that's what Chief Schmidt was doing,” Liza murmured softly. “He was stalling the investigation. Sometimes I wonder if Granddad asked him to take it easy.”

“That's possible,” Rose replied, for she knew Judson Ingalls and the police chief had been good friends for many years. “But the chief may have been doing Judson a favor, you know, without being asked.”

“What's going to happen now that he has retired?”

With a sigh, Rose said, “Your guess is as good as mine, Liza. I doubt that Brick Bauer and the newly appointed head of the Tyler police substation will be as easygoing as Paul Schmidt has been over the years.”

“Maybe Granddad
is
in a lot of trouble.” Liza hugged herself to suppress more shivers of fear. Half to herself, she said, “I've got to do everything I can to protect him.”

Fondly, Rose patted Liza's arm. “You'll have a lot of help, my dear. Everyone in Tyler respects your grandfather.”

“Everyone respects him, but not everyone likes him,” Liza reminded her. “He's made a lot of enemies over the years.”

“Please don't worry,” Rose urged, handing her back the photos. “Everything will turn out all right.”

Liza sighed. “I wish I could be sure.”

She walked away, leaving Rose wondering for a moment if the answer to the mystery could lie in those photographs. She wished making the Ingalls family troubles go away could be as easy as looking at some old faces, but suspected many more months would pass before all the answers were unearthed.

Rose allowed the problems of the Ingalls family to slip from her mind as she entertained her guests for the rest of the evening. She enjoyed chatting with friends and neighbors, and she even met a few new people.

One new addition to Tyler was Nora Gates's husband, the handsome Byron Forrester. The two had married after a whirlwind romance, and half the town expected the couple to split up once the first blush of romance wore off. But Nora and Byron appeared to be proving the gossips wrong. If anything, they looked more deeply in love than anyone Rose had ever known. Approvingly, she noticed that they laughed together a great deal. A marriage based on laughter was surely the best kind.

Rose surprised Nora and Byron when she slipped into the pantry for another bottle of wine and found them there. The newlyweds pretended to be admiring the collection of preserves
Rose stored on the narrow shelves, but she knew at once that she had nearly caught them kissing. They joked their way out of that potentially embarrassing position.

Then Rose asked Nora, “Don't you teach piano to Gina Santori?”

“Why, yes,” Nora replied. “I do. She's very musical.”

“She comes from a musical family, I'm told.”

“And she's quite an athlete, too. I'm very proud of her.” Nora smiled. “But I'm curious. Do you know if she ever got a date for the Tinsel Ball?”

With a laugh, Rose asked, “You knew about that, too?”

“Yes, but I didn't dare give her any advice on the subject. She's a stubborn kid.”

“Susannah played matchmaker, and Gina is going to the dance with Lars Travis, the paperboy.”

“Good choice!” Nora declared, applauding. “He and his brother Ricky take lessons from me, too. Let's hope he and Gina have a wonderful time.”

At that moment, a chorus of voices called for Nora. The most accomplished musician in Tyler was summoned to the piano, and she graciously allowed herself to be dragged into the sitting room. Cracking a joke, she seated herself at the instrument and easily played a few bars of a popular Christmas carol. Voices soon joined in with the words, and the room swelled with the harmonizing of friends and neighbors.

As she sang along, Rose looked around the room at the faces of the people she knew and loved so well—Judson Ingalls, Susannah, the members of the Quilting Circle. Even Joe Santori and Liza Forrester—they were all men and women Rose had come to think of as family. They were part of Tyler, part of her. It was a joy to see them all gathered in her home and raising their voices in thanksgiving.

This is the most wonderful night of my life,
Rose thought, standing back to study each face. Seeing Susannah's expression as she met Joe's gaze, noting the way Liza Forrester slid her arm around her grandfather—Rose felt a swell of happiness that life in Tyler was proceeding peacefully.

“Joe!” cried someone when the last strains of the carol died away. “Let's hear Joe sing!”

At once, all the people in the room began to coax Joe to sing for them. He refused with a modest laugh at first, but eventually Susannah persuaded him to entertain everyone. After a short consultation with Nora at the piano, Joe good-naturedly sang a funny, upbeat version of “Jingle Bells” that caused everyone to laugh. But then Nora played the opening bars of “Ave Maria,” and Joe could hardly refuse to sing.

The song, always dramatic, began with soft and poignant phrases, which Joe carried off almost effortlessly in his beautiful baritone. But gradually, the tune's power and reverential words called upon his upper range, and the room fell into a hushed silence as Joe closed his eyes and released the full power of his voice. The familiar tune rang out, filling the house to the rooftop and sending shivers through Rose as she listened. Gathered around the piano, the rest of the guests also listened in awe as Joe reached the climax of the song. The words hung in the air as if suspended, then Joe allowed his voice to die into a worshipful whisper. The final note quivered in the air, exquisitely emotional.

As if one person, the guests swallowed hard and burst into applause. Joe accepted their praise with an endearingly shy grin, and then he forced Nora to stand and take a bow. They gave each other a fond hug, then Nora sat down once again and really rattled the keyboard with a ragtime version of “Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer.” The crowd was soon rocking along with her, their faces suffused with the feeling of wellbeing.

Despite the noise, Rose managed to hear the doorbell ring. Surprised that a guest would be arriving so late, she worked her way through the crowd toward the door. In the entry hall, she bumped into Susannah and Joe, standing hand in hand.

“I heard the doorbell,” Susannah said to Rose. “Who could be coming at this hour?”

“We'll find out in a minute,” Rose said. “First I must tell
Joe how wonderful that was. Your voice is magnificent! I had no idea you were so accomplished.”

“Oh,” he said mildly, “I'm just an amateur.”

“He's too modest,” Susannah protested, eyes shining. “Isn't he, Granny Rose?”

“Modesty is just one of his many good qualities,” Rose countered, taking both their hands in hers so that they made a small family circle under the chandelier. “I think you ought to snap up this man, Suzie, dear. Before he gets away.”

Susannah blushed. “Granny Rose...”

“She's lovely when she blushes, Joe, don't you think?” Rose appealed to him laughingly. “Surely prettier than any other lady in your life.”

“Granny Rose!” Susannah cried, embarrassed at the merest reference to Joe's girlfriend, Angelica.

“Susannah is the loveliest woman I've ever met,” Joe agreed without missing a beat.

“And isn't it lucky that you're standing under the mistletoe?” Rose inquired.

Joe laughed and said that it was, then swept Susannah into his arms. Without protest, Suzie slipped her hands up his chest, clinging to him as if she'd already had some practice at that, and in another moment they were kissing. They made such a charming picture, too—an attractive couple embracing beneath the mistletoe and surrounded by Christmas decorations. They were so perfectly matched that Rose found herself entranced by the sight of her granddaughter so lovingly gathered in a man's arms—even when the doorbell sounded impatiently again.

With a chuckle, Rose turned away, saying, “I think I know what Santa's going to bring you two.”

Joe and Susannah laughed softly, but didn't break apart, and at that instant Rose opened the front door to the guest who had been standing irritably on the porch. For a split second, Rose didn't recognize the man.

Then Susannah made a queer sound in the back of her throat and hastily stepped out of Joe's arms.

“Roger!” she squeaked.

“Roger?” Joe repeated. “Who's Roger?”

“Good heavens,” said Rose, clapping her hand to her mouth. “What terrible timing!”

Roger Selby, the manager of Susannah's television station, stepped into the house amid a flurry of snowflakes. His brow looked thunderous, and he stomped the snow from his immaculately shined wingtip shoes with the air of a man finishing an arduous journey. With a resounding thunk he dropped a fine leather valise on the floor.

“Roger...” Susannah began, but couldn't say more.

“Who the hell is Roger?” Joe demanded.

“The man who won't let you flush your career down the toilet, Susannah.”

S
USANNAH WAS
thunderstruck. “Who said anything about flushing my career?”

Roger was nearly as tall as Joe and even more imposing in his elegant clothes. He gave Susannah a lofty look and said, “I had my suspicions, Susannah, so I came to make sure you haven't been brainwashed in this little town.”

“I have not been brainwashed!”

“No? Then what was all that nonsense on the phone the other day? You were rambling on about your life, Susannah. It worried me. And you didn't return my call yesterday or this morning concerning the Easter-basket segment.”

“I've been busy!”

“Looking after your sick grandmother?” Roger asked archly. He glanced down at Rose, who looked like the picture of health. “That's the most feeble excuse in the book, Susannah. I've never seen a fitter-looking woman than your grandmother. Hello, Mrs. Atkins.”

Rose, with a fierce look in her eye, managed to make a liar out of her granddaughter without saying a word.

Roger turned back to Susannah. “Our trip to the Caribbean was very important. The substance of the whole next season hangs in the balance. When you canceled, I began to worry about you. Now I'm even more dismayed.”

Susannah fought for composure. “Roger, you needn't have made this trip. There's nothing to worry about.”

“Really?”

“The show's very important to me. It's been my whole life.” Conscious of Joe standing nearby and her grandmother's
narrow gaze, Susannah added, “It's not the
only
thing in my life, of course.”

Roger's frown grew more intense. “What do you mean by that? I don't like to see your energy diluted.”

In a deep growl, Joe said, “She's a woman, not a machine.”

“And who,” Roger asked, “are you?”

Hastily, Susannah said, “This is Joe Santori, Roger. He's a—a friend.”

“A friend,” Joe added, “who recognizes the importance of family and a hell of a lot of other things. Susannah came to Tyler to see her grandmother again. I think that's more important than getting sunburned while you talk about recipes and household hints!”

“Our show is not about recipes and household hints,” Roger began, flushing red at the implication that their program was lightweight. “It's much more than that. Why, we—”

“Now's not the time to discuss the merits of ‘Oh, Susannah!,”' Rose intervened. “Roger, since you're here, why don't you join the party? My friends are all fans of your program. I'm sure they'd love to meet the producer.”

She took Roger's arm and guided him forcefully into the parlor, where a few of the guests had already fallen silent when voices began to rise in the hallway. Susannah realized they had made a scene, and she was embarrassed on her grandmother's behalf.

Joe caught Susannah's arm before she could follow her grandmother and Roger back to the party. He spun her around to face him. “Did you mean what you just said?” he asked, voice low. “That your show's the most important thing in your life?” His expression was tense.

“I didn't say that.”

“But you meant it,” he insisted, “didn't you?”

“Look,” Susannah whispered, trying not to prolong her embarrassment, “I can't escape the fact that I
am
Oh, Susannah, Joe. Of course the show's important to me. A lot of people depend upon my doing a good job.”

He released her arm and took a step backward. “I thought you had changed this week. I must have been kidding myself.”