Read Murder at Barclay Meadow Online
Authors: Wendy Sand Eckel
He laughed heartily. “You're funny. Do you realize that?”
I sipped my wine. “I have my moments.”
Our dinner plates were removed and replaced with dessert wine in small crystal glasses and a round of glazed cr
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me br
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“I'm also interested in the differences in sexual triggers according to age and time of life.” His arm was still behind my chair. My scalp tingled as he continued to fondle my hair.
“I believe our triggers change over time,” he continued. “Now that I'm no longer looking for the best mother for my children, I'm attracted to other things besides the traditional hip-to-waist ratio.” He gave my body a once-over. “Although a lovely figure never goes unnoticed.”
“Oh.⦔ My face warmed.
He leaned in and sniffed the lock of hair between his fingers. “Scent is an important trigger, too. Don't you think?”
I flattened my back against the chair. He was so close, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. The waiter returned with a tumbler of vodka.
“And let's not forget taste,” he continued. “That's an important one, too, especially for men.”
My mouth fell open.
Nick dipped a spoon into the cr
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me br
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e and slid it into his mouth. I watched as he slowly removed it, seemingly savoring every flavor. He shut his eyes. “Mmm,” he said.
I cleared my throat. “You were saying there are age differences in desire?”
He set his spoon on the tablecloth, looked over at me, and smiled. “Yes. But not just after child-bearing years. For instance, a girl who isn't in the market for a husband yet will be attracted to a different sort of boy. Doesn't every girl have to have at least one âbad boy' in her life?”
“Of course,” I said. “The guy in the leather jacket.”
“They don't always wear leather jackets,” he said.
“True. Some don't wear jackets at all.” I eyed his silk shirt. “But mine wore a denim jacket and smoked unfiltered Camels. He had long, lovely hair and sang Cat Stevens songs to me.”
“There you go. Funny again.” He picked up his glass and took a long swig of vodka.
“Time for carols around the piano.” Janice stood before us. “Rose Red? Dr. Nick? You think you can break it up long enough to sing?”
“Of course.” I scooted my chair back.
Nick reached for my hand. “I have thoroughly enjoyed our conversation, Rosalie.”
“Yes.” I stood and pulled my hand from his. “I've enjoyed it, as well. I can't believe dinner is over so soon.”
I followed Janice to the piano. “You go from one doc to the other,” she hissed.
“They couldn't be any more different from one another.” I tried to keep up in my heels. “Opposite ends of the man spectrum, if there is such a thing.”
She stopped and turned around. I almost ran into her. “Dr. Nick is a womanizer,” she said. “He has a reputation.”
“What kind of reputation?” I said. “Married women? Younger women?” I hesitated. “Students?”
“All of the above.”
“Really?
Students?
”
“Oh, yeah. But the college keeps it quiet. They're trying to rein him in.”
“Good luck with that.”
She started walking again. I tried to hide my giddiness at the information she had just disclosed. She stopped abruptly and turned to face me again. “You know your problem, Rose Red?”
“Which one? I have many.”
“You have to stop reacting to everything. You're not a victim, you know? You've got to be
pro
active.” I looked up at her. “If you're only reacting to things, you give away your power. Get it?”
“Janice, I'm really trying. It's just a rough time of year.”
She rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
After the first round of “Deck the Halls” I headed for the coat closet. I wondered if Janice would consider this being proactive. I looked back at the party. Dr. Phil was arm in arm with another woman.
Fa la la la la â¦
His teeth really were perfect.
I shut the door and headed to my car, concentrating hard on not twisting my ankle in the gravel.
“Oh.” I stopped abruptly. Nick was leaning against my car, his ankles crossed, his hands in the pockets of his dark wool overcoat.
“That's my car.”
“I know,” he said.
“Of course you do.” My breath crystalized in a puffy silver cloud. “There is no anonymity in Cardigan, Maryland.”
“There's nothing anonymous about this car.” He patted the door. “Something tells me a woman who drives a car the color of lipstick has another side. A side I think I would like.”
My heart thudded in my chest. Why wouldn't he move? What was he doing? “Well⦔ I faked a yawn. “I'm really tired.” I fished my keys out of my clutch.
“What's the rush?” Before I could speak, Nick slipped his hands into my coat, held my hips, and pulled me to him. His lips, cool from the December air, were on mine.
I pushed him away. “What are you doing?”
“What I've been thinking about doing all night.”
I placed my hand on my forehead. “You were?”
He stepped closer. “You should button your coat. You'll catch a chill.” His fingertips brushed against the wool as he slowly buttoned my coat. My nerve endings, on red alert, acknowledged every point of contact.
“There,” he said. “All buttoned up. You okay to drive?”
“Yes,” I said. “Are you?”
He cocked his head. His eyes glistened in the dim light of Janice's portico. “Shall I follow just to be sure?”
“No. I'm fine. Really.” I waited for him to move.
“You're never going to take my class, are you?”
I shrugged. “I don't know. Why did you say that?”
“I don't think you ever intended to. I think you just wanted to meet me.”
“No.” I stepped back. My heels crunched the gravel. “I was interested.”
“You,” he chuckled, “are a lousy liar.”
A small chime from my phone sounded in my purse, signaling my connection to the rest of the world. He stepped out of the way.
As I climbed into my car, he leaned in and nuzzled my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You have secrets,” he whispered. He backed away and I grabbed the door. “Till next time,
ma ch
é
rie,
” he called. My hands trembled as I fumbled with my keys. At last the engine roared awake. I looked out at Nick. He was watching me, a thin, sly smile on his lips.
As I drove the short distance home, I tried to slow my heart rate. Maybe Janice was right. I've got to get some control. What if he had climbed in the car? What if he had followed me? I clicked on the blinker. As I started to turn onto the lane, a pair of headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. My nerves went into lockdown. No one traveled this road unless they had a good reason, especially this late at night. Nick? Oh my gosh, I lived alone. He could follow me into the house. He said I had secrets. He knows I know about Megan. I parked under a cypress tree and killed the lights. I waited in the moonless night. An owl shrieked and dipped low over the roof of my car. I instinctively hunched my shoulders. I waited, but the lights never reappeared.
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Nick Angeles | It was lovely to see you last night. Let me know the next time you need help buttoning your coat. |
| Â | Â |
Glenn B | Birdie's shoe store is presenting me with a wealth of information. It seems our good sheriff and the college president are very well connected. |
Tony Ricci | You're supposed to be hooking up with the bingo ladies. Not hanging out in a shoe store. |
Rosalie Hart | I'm here. Keep talking. Remember I saw Carmichael and Wilgus having lunch one day and then they were talking at the party. |
Tony Ricci | So why would the Pres and the cop be so chummy? |
Glenn B | I believe the college is behind the sheriff's willingness to close the case so quickly. They want to keep their safe, idyllic image and they want their star professor's reputation to remain intact. Just think, if word leaked out that he was sleeping with students or, even worse, murdered one, the scandal could ruin the college. Especially if the president knew and covered it up. |
Rosalie Hart | If Nick did it once, he could do it again. And how would that look? Not only did they cover something up, they allowed him to kill again. |
I stopped typing. I just said “kill again.” I remembered Nick's kiss, his breath hot on my neck, his hands on my coat.
You have secrets,
he'd said.
Tony Ricci | Speaking of Nick, as it seems we're referring to our sleazy professor now, is he really a friend of yours on FB? |
Rosalie Hart | It's for the investigation. But I'm not so sure it's a good idea. |
Shelby Smith | Rosalie, did you remove your initial posts about Megan? |
Shoot. How could I be so careless?
Rosalie Hart | I had confirmation Saturday night that Nick sleeps with students. We had dinner together at Janice's. |
Tony Ricci | Whoa, Princess. Watch out for that guy. |
Rosalie Hart | I know. He scares me a little. But I'll keep this friendship going. Anything else? |
Glenn B | Lila also told me there's a possibility Megan committed suicide. That's why the parents dropped the investigation. |
Shelby Smith | Was there a note? |
Glenn B | Don't know. I'm treading carefully with Lila. And Doris Bird is well-named. She watches me like a hawk. But I'm hoping to get a little information about the police report. By the way, everyone loved your bread, Rosalie. She's hoping for more. |
Shelby Smith | Rosalie, remember Megan's post on Facebook the day she died? It read, “Independence Day.” Maybe she really did commit suicide. I can't believe we never considered that before. |
Rosalie Hart | I don't buy it. My gut says no. And how on earth do you drown yourself? I know the river current is strong but there were no rocks in her purse. I saw the evidence bag. I think the stepfather is manipulating this too. What is he covering up? Did he do something? Is he protecting Rhonda? We have to keep the focus on him too. |
Tony Ricci | I've been looking into Bill Johnston. He sells insurance. Maybe I could see if he wants to sell me a policy. |
Rosalie Hart | I know, but Tony, he's grieving. He's lost his only child. |
Tony Ricci | I'm just looking for a policy. I need to see this guy face to face. I'll find out if he's hiding something. |
Rosalie Hart | Be gentle, ok? Anything else? |
Shelby Smith | I've been chatting on FB with Tim Collier, the friend of Megan's that jumped out at me. His posts on her wall were creepy. So now he's starting to pour his heart out to me. |
Tony Ricci | Nice going, Suzy Q. btw why did you pick the name Shelby Smith? |
Shelby Smith | It's not gender specific. |
Glenn B | Nice work, everyone. Oh, can someone help me hunt down a Ural liberation front contact in Mafia Wars? |
As soon as I signed off I clicked on my profile, scrolled down to my original first two posts, and clicked “delete post.” I stared at the screen for a long time. Had he looked? Did he know?
I logged out and signed on as Megan. I scrolled through her friend list and there he wasâthe gap in his front teeth, a subdued, studious smile on his face. Oh, how I wished I could have a conversation with Megan. Help me, I thought. Point me in the right direction.
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Annie Hart
See you Christmas AM Mom! Love you!!!!!!!!!
I clicked “like.”
Amy Levengood
Carols and Nog! Meet at the gazebo at 6. Dinner to follow at my house.
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My heart sank. Amy was my best friend in Chevy Chase. Every year our neighborhood caroled together Christmas night, begging for spiked egg nog and warm appetizers. After carols, we gathered at my house, where I would serve a buffet of ham, potatoes au gratin, corn bread, cranberries, my signature homemade Caesar salad. I had collected enough ornaments over the years to decorate two full-size trees and I filled every available space with poinsettias, white pine roping, twinkling lights, and velvet ribbon. Christmas had always been my absolute favorite time of year. I loved the warm fires, the baking, the scent of pine throughout the house, the shopping, and, more than anything, the giving. I prided myself on finding the perfect gift for everyone on my list, remembering the hints and wishes dropped throughout the year.