half of them.”
“Extra busy lately?”
He paused. “Unfortunately, yes.” His face sobered.
“Really?” she said, sitting back from the keyboard. “Has something happened?”
The sheriff regarded his hat, which rested on the counter. As he did, Julia noted the gray hairs mixing in with the black, the age showing around Barlow’s tired eyes. Seeing these things, it wasn’t hard to forget he was in detective mode, was a regular guy and a good man, saddened by what he was doing, questioning her about a missing person.
Keep your guard up , a voice cautioned.
“We don’t know what’s happened, Julia.” He glanced up at her, chin down. “Have you heard of a man named Ted Brand?”
She shook her head, forced her hands not to fidget. “No, that name’s not familiar.”
He watched her a moment longer. Then, he seemed to dismiss something and stared at his hat again. “You wouldn’t have, unless you have a police scanner you listen to.”
She waited, her heart sledgehammering in her chest.
He smiled at her. “But you’re not really the police scanner type.”
She allowed herself a sheepish grin. “I’m a bit out of touch.”
“Why is that?”
“I guess I’m just a homebody.”
His sigh said it was a shame she never married. She got that sigh a lot, from Bea mostly.
“What I’m wondering about,” he said, coming to it, “is whether you walked home from work Thursday night or caught a ride.”
“I always walk home from work.”
He grinned. “I know you do. I finally stopped offering you rides even though I hate to see you all alone on the shoulder.”
She shrugged. “I like walking.”
“So the other night, did you see a black BMW pass by, heading south?”
Not wanting to answer too fast, she paused, frowning at the wall beside her. “Not that I remember. It’s possible one went by, but if it did I don’t remember it.”
“Think hard now,” Barlow said. “Did a man maybe stop and offer you a ride?”
“No,” she said, “I would have remembered that.”
Barlow looked disappointed but unsurprised. “If you remember anything, will you call me?” He wrote down his number on a temporary library card.
She took it.
“That’s my cell phone,” he said. “I hate the damn thing, but everybody’s got one now and my secretary says I have to keep up with the times.”
“How is Patti?” Julia asked.
“She’s fine,” Barlow said, straightening. “I better get going.”
“I hope everything works out.”
The sheriff put his hat on. “Me too.”
And with that, he left.
Staring after him she let out a long, fluttery breath. She shut her eyes and pushed herself up in her chair. She’d done well, she knew. Barlow didn’t suspect her. She was just another neighbor, a formality to be gotten through. He no more suspected her of Brand’s murder than the Kennedy assassination.
All that was left now was the body.
Chapter Nine
July, 1950
After the murder of her child, the only restraint on Maria’s wantonness was removed. She bedded a new man each week, often on consecutive days. More than once in the same night.
Myles observed this with detached interest, caring little for his former girlfriend, caring less for the marriages she ruined, the homes she destroyed. Sleeping with men from all stations, politicians and policemen, idlers and drifters, she cut a lecherous swath through the fabric of the town and became anathema to any woman whose man had a wandering eye.
Then, she made her play for David Carver.
Myles knew nothing of the affair, save the lingering stares Maria leveled his brother’s way. He could never tell whether or not the interest was mutual, for David was difficult to read. Myles couldn’t imagine his brother wanting any woman but Annabel.
One sleepless night Myles arose from bed and went outside.
The night was warm and bright, the gardens redolent with jasmine and sage. Through the dewy lawn and into the hollow Myles went, a slight breeze
“Extra busy lately?”
He paused. “Unfortunately, yes.” His face sobered.
“Really?” she said, sitting back from the keyboard. “Has something happened?”
The sheriff regarded his hat, which rested on the counter. As he did, Julia noted the gray hairs mixing in with the black, the age showing around Barlow’s tired eyes. Seeing these things, it wasn’t hard to forget he was in detective mode, was a regular guy and a good man, saddened by what he was doing, questioning her about a missing person.
Keep your guard up , a voice cautioned.
“We don’t know what’s happened, Julia.” He glanced up at her, chin down. “Have you heard of a man named Ted Brand?”
She shook her head, forced her hands not to fidget. “No, that name’s not familiar.”
He watched her a moment longer. Then, he seemed to dismiss something and stared at his hat again. “You wouldn’t have, unless you have a police scanner you listen to.”
She waited, her heart sledgehammering in her chest.
He smiled at her. “But you’re not really the police scanner type.”
She allowed herself a sheepish grin. “I’m a bit out of touch.”
“Why is that?”
“I guess I’m just a homebody.”
His sigh said it was a shame she never married. She got that sigh a lot, from Bea mostly.
“What I’m wondering about,” he said, coming to it, “is whether you walked home from work Thursday night or caught a ride.”
“I always walk home from work.”
He grinned. “I know you do. I finally stopped offering you rides even though I hate to see you all alone on the shoulder.”
She shrugged. “I like walking.”
“So the other night, did you see a black BMW pass by, heading south?”
Not wanting to answer too fast, she paused, frowning at the wall beside her. “Not that I remember. It’s possible one went by, but if it did I don’t remember it.”
“Think hard now,” Barlow said. “Did a man maybe stop and offer you a ride?”
“No,” she said, “I would have remembered that.”
Barlow looked disappointed but unsurprised. “If you remember anything, will you call me?” He wrote down his number on a temporary library card.
She took it.
“That’s my cell phone,” he said. “I hate the damn thing, but everybody’s got one now and my secretary says I have to keep up with the times.”
“How is Patti?” Julia asked.
“She’s fine,” Barlow said, straightening. “I better get going.”
“I hope everything works out.”
The sheriff put his hat on. “Me too.”
And with that, he left.
Staring after him she let out a long, fluttery breath. She shut her eyes and pushed herself up in her chair. She’d done well, she knew. Barlow didn’t suspect her. She was just another neighbor, a formality to be gotten through. He no more suspected her of Brand’s murder than the Kennedy assassination.
All that was left now was the body.
Chapter Nine
July, 1950
After the murder of her child, the only restraint on Maria’s wantonness was removed. She bedded a new man each week, often on consecutive days. More than once in the same night.
Myles observed this with detached interest, caring little for his former girlfriend, caring less for the marriages she ruined, the homes she destroyed. Sleeping with men from all stations, politicians and policemen, idlers and drifters, she cut a lecherous swath through the fabric of the town and became anathema to any woman whose man had a wandering eye.
Then, she made her play for David Carver.
Myles knew nothing of the affair, save the lingering stares Maria leveled his brother’s way. He could never tell whether or not the interest was mutual, for David was difficult to read. Myles couldn’t imagine his brother wanting any woman but Annabel.
One sleepless night Myles arose from bed and went outside.
The night was warm and bright, the gardens redolent with jasmine and sage. Through the dewy lawn and into the hollow Myles went, a slight breeze
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