The Way You Look Tonight (27 page)

‘Look for a diary, letters, whatever,' Joe said distractedly, handing her the flashlight. ‘I'm going back to Mom and Dad's room to check the action out front.'

It didn't take Deborah long to hit pay dirt. On the bottom bookshelf were three high-school yearbooks and a slender photo album. She didn't bother to look through them, but immediately began searching Emily's dresser drawers. One contained underwear, another stockings and socks, another sweaters. Everything remained as if Emily were coming home from the hospital any day. There were even fresh sachets in the drawers, but no letters or diaries. ‘Of course not,' Deborah muttered, standing up. ‘If she'd been dumb enough to hide things in her dresser drawers, her mother would have found them by now.'

She frantically searched her mind. Her room had been a shabby cubbyhole compared to this one, but where had
she
hidden things? She'd kept her diary in an old shoe box at the back of her closet. She rushed to Emily's closet. Clothes hung in a neat row, and shoes were stored in a clear plastic shoe case. Nowhere to hide something in the closet. She looked around the room, but reason told her it would be nearly impossible to hide anything as large as a diary unless it were under the mattress, and that too would have been found by now. What about something small? Where could that be stashed from prying eyes?

Her gaze fell on the bookcase again. Emily had obviously been an avid reader. Her mother was not. There would have been no threat of Mrs Robinson borrowing a book from her daughter, and Mr Robinson's taste seemed to run toward the classics. Quickly, Deborah began pulling books from the case, flipping hurriedly through the pages. A letter dropped out of the fifth book,
Kirkland Revels
, just as Joe reappeared.

‘Deborah, I'm feeling prickly.'

‘Prickly?'

‘Nervous. Someone's coming. I can't see them but I can feel them. We should have gotten out of here five minutes ago.'

‘Right.' Deborah checked to see that she'd gotten all the books aligned neatly on the shelf. Mrs Robinson might immediately miss the yearbooks and album, but it was a chance Deborah would have to take. There would be hell to pay for what she was doing anyway. ‘I found a letter Emily must have hidden.'

Joe looked surprised. ‘I really didn't think you'd find anything.'

‘That's because you were never a teenage girl.'

‘Full of secrets, are they?'

‘Yes. Most of the secrets seem ridiculous ten years later, but they're deadly serious at the time.' She paused. ‘Only in Emily's case, I think maybe they
were
deadly serious.'

‘Maybe, but you'll have to find out later. We have to get out of here
now
.'

Deborah scrambled to her feet, clutching the yearbooks and album and stuffing the letter in her purse. ‘Okay, I'm ready.'

They hurried back to the kitchen. Deborah's hand was on the doorknob when Joe hissed, ‘Stop!' She froze as he doused the flashlight and put an arm around her waist, pulling her down to a stooping position. ‘Wha—' she squeaked in shock before he glared her into silence. ‘They're checking around the house,' he whispered in her ear. ‘I
knew
they were coming.'

‘They won't come in, will they?'

‘Not unless they see something suspicious.'

‘Our
footprints
.'

‘The way that snow was falling, they're probably covered. Now hush.'

Deborah held her breath as light danced across the back windows. The silence was spun out for a moment, then the kitchen doorknob rattled. Deborah's eyes flashed to Joe's face. He didn't look at her, but his jaw tightened. How could we ever explain this? she wondered.

Her anxiety was reaching a peak when mercifully the doorknob stopped rattling. After what seemed like an hour, but couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, the light disappeared. She and Joe both let out long sighs, and Deborah realized she was perspiring, even though it was only about sixty degrees in the house. ‘I don't ever want to do something like this again,' she murmured.

‘Let's hope you never have to.'

Two

By the time they crept back to Joe's Jeep, their hair was wet, and Deborah's stockings and shoes were soaking. The windshield wipers worked furiously but seemed to do little to help. ‘We can't go back to Charleston in this,' he said.

‘We
have
to.'

‘Deborah, would you look out there?'

She looked. He was right. The children were safe with Pete, and returning tonight wasn't worth the risk of having a wreck. ‘Okay, we'll have to stay over.'

‘Know of a good motel?'

‘There's one Steve used to stay in,' she said. ‘It's on the outskirts of town and I think the rates are pretty reasonable.'

The clerk had given them a sly look when they asked for two rooms. ‘Will that be
adjoining
rooms?' he asked.

‘No,' Joe told him firmly. ‘Just two rooms, each with a double bed.'

He gave them adjoining rooms anyway. Joe rolled his eyes at Deborah when he saw the door between them. ‘Oh, who cares?' she'd said, too wet and cold to be concerned about what anyone thought.

Joe had sat down on one of the beds, running his hand over the purple velour spread. ‘How tasteful.'

‘Gaudy, but serviceable.'

‘I don't think we can expect room service.'

‘I'm more concerned with the fact that we don't have toothbrushes, toothpaste – nothing.'

‘That's easily remedied,' Joe said. ‘You call Pete and tell him we're staying over, we'll go to a drug store and get what we need for tonight, and then have a good meal. I'm starving, in spite of that cake we had at Violet's and the sandwiches.'

‘Me too,' Deborah admitted.

‘Besides, you deserve it in honor of your first breaking and entering job.'

Deborah grinned. ‘Don't remind me. That's one story I don't think I'll be telling the kids.'

‘I saw a place down the road called The Blue Note. The sign said they serve dinners and have live music. Are you in the mood?'

Deborah started to say all she wanted was something from a fast-food place, then decided maybe a nice dinner with a couple of drinks and music might be just what she needed to relax. ‘Sounds good to me.'

Joe went to his room and Deborah called Pete. ‘We can't get back home,' she said. ‘We're spending the night.'

‘Oh,' Pete said flatly. ‘I see.'

‘It's
really
snowing here,' Deborah went on, for some reason feeling like a teenager making excuses to a parent.

‘It's best that you stay, then.'

Did he sound disapproving? No, tired, she thought. He wasn't used to having two children and a dog around. ‘I hope the kids aren't being too much of a bother.'

‘They've behaved beautifully. They've already had dinner. I was going to fix steamed vegetables and chicken, but they wanted pizza.'

‘They love pizza.'

‘So I gathered from their appetites,' he laughed. ‘Did you see my grandmother?'

‘Yes. She was very sweet to us, and she's fine, Pete.'

‘And who else did you see?'

‘Just Emily. Oh, and Steve's old girlfriend, Jean Bartram.'

‘Oh,
Jeannie
! That was her name. How did you ever come up with it?'

‘Your grandmother.'

‘How on earth did she remember that?'

‘I don't know, Pete, but she did. Jean had lived away from here for a long time. She only came back a couple of years ago and she works at the nursing home where Emily is.'

‘Well, of all the coincidences! Was she of any help?'

‘Oh, she had a lot to say, but I don't want to go into it all right now. I don't know whether to believe her or not.' She paused. ‘I don't really like her.'

‘I never did either, and the feeling was mutual, as I recall.'

It
was
mutual, Deborah thought, but said nothing. ‘Well, she didn't know who Emily's husband was. That was a disappointment.'

‘I don't understand why you're so determined to find out his identity,' Pete said with faint amusement. ‘Is this Nancy Drew syndrome?'

Deborah laughed. ‘It must be. I just feel it's connected to what's going on with Steve. It's so maddening not to know. Oh well. I wanted to let you know that Joe and I are going to have dinner at a place called The Blue Note if you need to call me before I get back to the room.'

‘The Blue Note!'

‘Yes. Do you know it?'

‘That place has been around for ages.'

‘Is the food good?'

‘I've never been there. It's a jazz club. I hate jazz.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘I have many fascinating secrets,' Pete said lightly.

‘Anyway, I'll be there then straight back here.' She gave him the room and phone number. ‘I'm really sorry to dump the kids off on you like this.'

‘It's no problem, Deborah. We have plenty of room. You just have a nice dinner and a safe trip back tomorrow.'

‘May I speak to the children for a minute?'

Pete hesitated. ‘Deborah, would you mind not speaking to them? They've been very restless, but now they've settled down to watch a movie with Adam. I'd rather not get them excited again.'

So they
were
being a problem, Deborah thought. She wished she could do something, but getting home tonight was impossible.

‘Oh well, I won't disturb them, then.' A wave of disappointment washed over her. She had never spent a night away from the children. Now she was forced to abandon them for a night because she'd been determined to come to Wheeling on what was probably a fool's errand. ‘You will be very careful tonight, won't you?' she asked. ‘Lieber is still out there somewhere.'

‘I'll guard the children with my life,' Pete said lightly. ‘See you tomorrow.'

Three

After the phone call, Deborah held her long hair over a heat vent to dry it. Then they went to a drug store and collected toiletries and stopped at a budget shoe store where Deborah bought a flimsy, but dry, pair of loafers.

‘Well, I certainly look spiffy,' she said ruefully, looking at the cheap shoes and feeling her hair falling in rough creases instead of its usual smooth waves.

‘You look great and I'm mighty proud to be seen with you, ma'am,' Joe drawled.

‘Yeah, sure,' Deborah returned drily. ‘You're probably just glad you never have to be seen with me again in this town.'

‘Not true. I'd sneak through back yards with you any time. You're just going to have to control that giggling if anyone's going to take you seriously as a partner in crime.'

‘I'm so embarrassed about that. I'm thinking my husband might be a serial killer, I'm going to his parents' house to get evidence, and on the way I'm paralyzed with giggles.'

‘Better laughter than tears, although you did look about fifteen.'

‘Oh, be quiet and let's go eat,' Deborah laughed.

The Blue Note was only a short distance from the motel. As soon as Deborah stepped inside, she knew Pete was right – the place had been around for a long time. Still, it had been beautifully maintained and exuded a warm, relaxed ambience she loved. The knotty pine-panelled walls were decorated with hundreds of framed photographs of regular patrons and groups who'd once played at the club. In the center of the room sat large tables, most of which were occupied, and along the walls were deep and comfortable dark blue upholstered booths. Dim lights and candles set a somewhat sultry tone. One end of the club featured a dance floor, and above it loomed a dais bearing various musical instruments.

‘Nice place,' Joe said as they sat down in one of the booths. He flipped open the menu. ‘Reasonable prices, too.'

He chose a T-bone steak and Deborah selected shrimp. Both ordered drinks, and while she sipped her white wine she looked at the photographs on the wall to her left. ‘That one looks like it was taken in the fifties,' she said. ‘Look at those hairstyles!'

Joe peered at the one closest to him. ‘This one was later. Late seventies or very early eighties, I'd say.'

‘Then you'd be right.' They both looked up to see a heavy man around seventy wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a black jacket. His equally black hair was slicked back and he wore several rings. He looked like a singer in a bad lounge act, but his smile was wide and genuine. ‘I'm Harry Gauge, owner of the place. Never seen you folks here before.'

‘We've never been here before,' Deborah said. ‘It's very nice.'

‘I'm pretty proud of it and always happy to welcome new patrons. Now that picture you were lookin' at,' Harry went on, ‘that
was
taken around 1980. See that black guy on the sax? That was Eddie Kaye. Biggest talent that ever hit this place.'

Deborah looked closer at the young man playing the saxophone. He looked to be in his early twenties and he was extremely handsome. He seemed to be playing directly at a table where two young men and two teenaged girls sat. The dark-haired girl was gazing at him almost rapturously.

‘Weren't those people a little young to be in a place that serves liquor?' Deborah asked.

Harry grinned. ‘Sometimes we bend the rules and hope we don't get caught. Of course, they can't have drinks – I draw the line there. But so far I've never had any trouble.'

‘Whatever happened to the sax player?' Joe asked.

‘That remains a mystery. Probably went to Hollywood or New York. Maybe New Orleans. He used to talk a lot about wanting to play in the French Quarter. Anyway, one day he just seemed to vanish off the face of the earth.'