A Skeleton in the Closet (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) by Judith K. Ivie Page B

having a lot of them lately. Are you feeling all right? Everything okay with John and Charlie?” I asked as we crossed the Cove’s sandy parking lot and paused at the water’s edge, causing my perceptive friend to cut her eyes sideways at me. My tone had been too casual, and she knew me too well. She stooped briefly to pick up a handful of pebbles and stood tossing them into the cove. A mirthless smile accentuated the turmoil in her eyes, which were the color of the Caribbean sea .
    “You’re right, of course. I’m pregnant. Six weeks gone, as near as I can figure. I was crazy to think you and Margo wouldn’t pick up on it for a while yet.” Plunk, plunk went the pebbles. I struggled to find the right words to say.
    “But that’s wonderful! Charlie must be so excited, and John … well, he must be over the moon. What did he say when you told him the news?” I decided not to ask why she had not wanted Margo and me, her partners and best friends in the world, to know yet.
    The pebbles were gone, but Strutter continued to stare at the horizon. Then she made her decision and turned to face me. “I haven’t told John yet or Charlie, either. I don’t know if I’m going to.” She shrugged forlornly, and a tear straggled down her beautiful face.
    “Don’t know if you’re going to … here, let’s sit down for a minute.” I shoved her gently in the direction of a convenient bench and fumbled in my pocket for a tissue. “Now what’s this all about? Spill it.”
    Strutter sat on the bench with uncharacteristic meekness and honked into the tissue. A quick glance around reassured me that we had the place practically to ourselves. The only other people in sight were a young couple walking their dog up toward the road. “I’m sure you’re right about Charlie. He’d be out of his mind happy at the thought of a little brother or even a little sister.” She paused. “It’s John I’m not so sure about.”
    I ran a scenario through my head of her breaking the news to John Putnam and could imagine nothing but his handsome face wreathed in smiles. “But I know John was never married before, and he doesn’t have any children. So this is his big chance! Every man wants a namesake.”
    “Maybe not. John’s not a sweet young thing of thirty-seven like me, you know.” She smiled bleakly. “He’s fifty-one years old, Kate. In his mind, that’s grampa territory, not an age when anyone wants to be up all night with a screaming baby.”
    I had to admit that I had never given the difference in age between Strutter and John a moment’s thought. They had fallen for each other like a ton of bricks, and the joy they radiated obliterated any reservations they might have about something as unlikely as more children. The sobering reality of a possibly fractious infant shed a somewhat different light on the matter. “But surely you discussed this …”
    “… before we got married?” Strutter finished my question for me. “Actually, we didn’t. I know that seems odd, but, well, there was Charlie, and John was so taken by him, it seemed as if our little family was already in place. A son that age is just right for John, and Charlie followed him around like a puppy from the first time they met. John is the father he never had and always longed for. It was all perfect.”
    I cleared my throat, uncertain of how to phrase my next question. “But Strutter , unless you went into this marriage intending to be celibate—and the way you and John can’t stand next to each other unless you’re holding hands, I know that’s not true—you had to acknowledge the possibility of conceiving a child. As you point out, you’re still in your prime, Girl. Weren’t you being … careful?”
    Again, the sad smile. “Sure, mostly. But once in a while, we’d get careless, and as I have good reason to know, once is apparently all is takes. Charlie spent the night with a friend back in the early part of May, and we opened a bottle of good