We rode the rest of the way in silence. From the way Ann constantly chewed on her lower lip, it was clear she was nervous about her conversation with Joe. Truth be told, I wasn’t too keen on the idea myself.
We arrived home around eleven thirty. The answering machine was blinking on the hall table, so Ann went to listen to it while I headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Kit followed me.
While I busied myself grinding the beans, Kit got down the mugs. After a minute, Ann came into the kitchen. “That was Laura,” Ann said. “She called to check in and see if I need anything and to invite us over for dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind, but I called her back and accepted.”
“That sounds like fun, actually. What time?”
“Eight. Kit, would you like to join us?” Ann asked.
“I’d love to,” Kit said. “Let me call Paul and see if he’s working.” Kit pulled out her phone and called Paul. From the disappointed side of her conversation, it was clear that tonight was not a good night for Paul.
“He’s working,” Kit said with a sigh as she snapped her phone shut. “But thanks for asking me.”
“Sure,” said Ann. “If you guys will excuse me, I’m going to change real quick before Joe gets here.” She glanced down at her jeans and T-shirt.
When she left, Kit turned to me. “What do you think is going to happen to her? Do the police really think she was involved?”
I shrugged and filled the coffeemaker with water. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t think Joe believes it, but that sergeant of his certainly is entertaining the idea. If you ask me, she likes Joe and is happy to paint Ann in an unfavorable light.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that the real killer is found,” Kit said.
That got my attention. “‘We’? I’m sorry, but aren’t you the sister who constantly mocks me for my so-called pretensions of assisting the police?”
Kit dismissed my words with a casual wave. “That’s not the point. The point is that we need to help Ann. We need to clear her name.”
I stared back at her, dumbfounded. I don’t know what was more daunting: the task of clearing Ann’s name or of doing it with Kit.
Twenty minutes later, there was an official-sounding rap on the front door. As Ann was still getting ready and Kit had gone out back to make a call, I answered it. As expected, it was Joe, and as expected Scarlett was at my side eager to greet him. She was really starting to get on my nerves. Joe was wearing jeans and a faded blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked very handsome; from the hard set of his jaw, he also looked very mad. I invited him to have a seat in the living room. “Ann will be out in a minute,” I said, as he took a seat on one of the chairs. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” he said as he bent to pet Scarlett.
“You’re only encouraging her,” I said.
Joe laughed. “She’s a pretty little thing.”
“No, she’s an annoying little thing. So how have you been?” I asked, mainly to start a conversation that didn’t involve our trip to visit Donny.
“Fine,” he replied somewhat quietly. “And you?”
“Good, thanks.”
Joe said nothing else, nor did he seem inclined to do so. Frantically, I tried to think of something to talk about before the silence between us grew unbearably awkward. “Are you still sailing?” I finally asked, remembering how much Joe used to enjoy that sport.
“I am. I really started to focus on it more after … well, um … I just really got into it over the past couple of years.”
I nodded. Over the past eight years, I’d guess if I had to.
Joe continued, “I sailed in a regatta this summer.”
“Wow. That’s great. Do you still have the same boat? What was it called, again?”
“
“That’s great. Is it the same kind of boat?”
“No, it’s a Catalina.”
“Oh, nice,” I said, not having any idea what kind of boat a Catalina is but nodding as though I did.
“You don’t know what a Catalina is, do you?” said Joe with a smile.
“Uh, no. Not really. No,” I admitted.
“It’s a brand of sailboat. Mine’s a thirty-foot. It’s a little bigger than
“Oh.” The silence returned. I thought he was about to ask about our visit to Donny, so I quickly said, “Where’s your sergeant today?”
Joe flushed. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell her about your visit.”
“Does she really think Ann could have killed Michael? It’s ludicrous!”
Joe shrugged. “Erica … Sergeant Beal isn’t a bad cop, but she has a tendency to be impulsive. I admire her spirit, but sometimes she lacks good sense.”
As I tended to be one of those souls who leaned more toward impulsivity rather than good sense, I chose not to comment. Instead I asked, “You don’t think Ann did it, do you?”
Joe shook his head. “No. The Ann I knew would never do anything like that.” He paused. “Lord knows people change. I mean Ann … well, the other night I hardly recognized her…” Joe stopped, seeming to realize what he was saying. “But no matter what has happened, I know that Ann could never kill anyone.”
“Well, can’t you tell your sergeant that?”
“The problem is that Erica knows about Ann and me. For me to tell her to back off of her theory would look bad. It could actually make it worse for Ann.”
I thought about what he said. As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. “Have there been any additional developments on Michael?” I asked.
Joe shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, the people who had the most against him are the Reynoldses. Michael didn’t seem to have any friends or family that I can find. His whole life seemed to revolve around Reggie and the business.”
“But—”
Joe raised his hand. “I don’t want to believe anyone in the family killed him, Elizabeth. In fact, I’m doing everything I can to find another answer. Trust me. The last thing I want is to hurt An … the family,” he amended.
I understood him. He might still be angry at Ann for ending their relationship, but he was not unfeeling. He didn’t want to see her suffer and would do what he could to prevent it. My hopes that they might be able to reconcile rose. Joe might still be resentful, but he was also here. That alone was an excellent start.
“I’m here to help, too,” I said. “I don’t want to see Ann hurt any more than you do. She hasn’t been very, well,
Okay, that last bit might have been too obvious, but I’ve found it pays to be direct.
Joe shot me an odd look. “What are you talking about?”
So maybe my idea of direct doesn’t always jibe with everyone else’s.
“Uh, well, you know…” I began, suddenly at a loss for words. Luckily, Ann joined us just then. For a moment, it was like the past eight years had never happened. It was like looking at the old Ann. She was wearing a green- and-tan cotton sheath. Her hair was freshly curled, and makeup had been artfully applied. I didn’t think Joe would be looking through her today. Upon seeing her, I was happy to notice that Joe’s expression softened and I doubted he still thought she’d changed beyond recognition. That he still cared for her, I was sure. But whether his pride would let him admit that was another story.
“I’ve just made some coffee,” I offered. “Can I get everyone a cup?”
This time my offer was accepted, and I ducked back into the kitchen where Kit was readying the tray.
“Is Joe here?” she asked. When I nodded, her face twisted into a grimace. “Well, let’s see if we can’t convince him to look for Michael’s murderer elsewhere.”
