been penciled in, and Emily herself had called that morning after she heard the news of Idella’s death, to confirm that she had agreed to the price and to my wanting the washer and dryer. So on my way out of town, I stopped by the office and signed the contract, too. And Jane’s house was on its way to becoming Emily Kaye’s house, having never really been my house at all.
I was willing to drive all the way into the city instead of going to Great Day, Amina’s mom’s store, because I wanted something that Amina called a “Later, Baby” dress. Amina had always been a dating specialist, one who picked her clothes with as much care as she picked her makeup. Your clothes always said something to your date, she claimed, and she had had such a long and varied and successful dating career that I figured she knew what she was talking about.
“It has to be modest enough to where you could see your mom while you were in it without turning red,” she had advised. “But it has to kind of growl to your date, ‘Later, baby!’ ”
It was a slow day at the petite shop, Short ‘n Sweet (hey, I didn’t name it), and the saleswoman who’d helped me before was glad to see me. I was too embarrassed to spell out what I wanted, but I tracked it down eventually. It was a sweater dress, soft and beige and shapeless but clingy, with a big cowl collar-and you wore it almost off the shoulders. I had to buy a strapless bra to go under it, and then big gold earrings, and then some shoes, so I made the saleswoman’s afternoon a happy one. Quite a switch for someone who had worn her college and high school clothes for ten years.
I ate lunch in the city and visited my favorite bookstore, so I came home to Lawrenceton fairly laden down with good things.
I tuned in to the local radio station as I left the interstate. It was time for the news. “Police are questioning a suspect in the murder of a Lawrenceton realtor,” said the newswoman chattily. “Today a prominent local businessman was taken in for questioning regarding the death of Tonia Lee Greenhouse, who was found strangled in an empty home last week. Though police would not comment, an unnamed source says police will also question James Hunter in connection with the death of Idella Yates, whose body was found yesterday.”
I sucked in my breath. Jimmy Hunter. Poor Susu! Poor kids! I wondered what new evidence Lynn had uncovered that had led to Jimmy’s being taken to the police station. I thought perhaps the police had found some of the stolen things in Jimmy’s possession. Or maybe… but it was no use speculating.
Martin was ten minutes early.
He took in the dress appreciatively.
“I just have to brush my hair,” I said, my hands extended to hold him off.
“Let me,” he suggested, and I could feel a blush that began at my toes.
“We’ll never get there if I do,” I said with a smile, and scampered up the stairs before he could grab me.
“One kiss,” he said as I came back down minutes later. He and Madeleine had been regarding one another warily.
“One,” I said strictly.
It was very sweet at first, but then it began to steam up.
“My glasses are fogging,” I murmured.
He laughed. “Okay, we’ll go.”
But it wasn’t until a few minutes later that we got into his car. It didn’t take long to get to the Carriage House, which had actually formerly been what its name implied. It was the only fancy restaurant in Lawrenceton, and had very good food and service. It was small, dark, and expensive, with a large added-on room at the back where local groups held dinners. We were shown a corner table and sat side by side on the L-shaped banquette.
Being so close to Martin was seriously interfering with my paying attention to anything else, but I was determined to get through a normal-date evening with him. We talked about what wine to order, and I selected my food; and he talked to the waiter, and the wine arrived.
“Jimmy Hunter’s being questioned about the death of the woman whose body we found,” I told him.
“I heard someone was. Do you know the man?”
So I told Martin about Jimmy and Susu, and Jimmy’s little quirk.
“He likes to look at houses with female realtors? That’s pretty-kinky.”
“But he’s never done anything to anybody,” I pointed out fairly. “And frankly, I hope the police have got something more on him than that, as I assume they must, because I find it very hard to believe that Jimmy did it.” I hadn’t known I felt that way until it came out of my mouth. “And they haven’t charged him in Tonia Lee’s murder, or Idella’s, and surely the same person killed them both.”
But Martin hadn’t heard about my finding Idella’s body, and I had to tell him now, his light brown eyes fixed on my face.
“I wish you had called me when you were upset,” he said. I had an uneasy feeling that he might be a little angry with me.
“I thought about you. Of course. It’s just that-really-for all our emotions for each other, we really don’t know each other that well. And you’re the plant manager, you have all kinds of duties and responsibilities that I don’t know anything about, Martin. Even on Sunday night, I just felt very hesitant about interrupting you.”
I had been able to picture all too clearly his exasperated face as he turned away from some important papers to answer a call from his one-night flame.
“Listen,” he said intently. “Don’t. We haven’t learned a lot about each other, but this is not just a bed thing. I hope. On my part, anyway, and I think for you, too.”
I didn’t know, yet.
He touched my hair. “If you need me, I’ll come. That’s all there is to it. We have time to get to know each other. But if anything bothers you or upsets you, you call me.”
“Okay,” I said finally, with misgivings.
Our salads arrived and we began eating, very conscious of each other.
“Martin, you’ll have to tell me about your company,” I said. “I have only the vaguest idea of what Pan-Am Agra does.”
“We arrange for the exchange of good used farm machinery for the produce from some of the South American countries,” he explained. “Also, we manufacture some agricultural goods and food using raw materials from North and South America, which is what we do at the plant here. And we own land in South America where we’re trying to use North American farming methods to produce better yields. Those are the main things Pan-Am Agra does, though there are a few other things, too.”
“What kind of products does Pan-Am Agra make?”
“Some fruit blends, some products containing coffee, some fertilizer.”
“Do you have to travel to South America much?”
“When I was at company headquarters in Chicago, I had to go often, at least once every month. Now I won’t fly down as much. But I will have to visit the other plants.”
“Is the government very much involved in what you do?”
“As a regulatory agency, yes, too much so. They’re forever thinking we’re smuggling drugs in or weapons out, knowingly or unknowingly, and our shipments are almost always searched.”
I thought of searching fertilizer, or the raw materials thereof, and wrinkled my nose.
“Exactly,” Martin said.
“So what is a pirate like you doing in an agricultural company?”
“Is that the way you see me? A pirate?” He laughed. “What is a quiet, slightly shy, introverted librarian doing dating a pirate like me? Your life has changed a lot lately, if what you tell me and what other people tell me is true.”
I noticed he hadn’t answered my question.
“My life has changed a lot,” I said thoughtfully. “I’m changing with it, I guess.” Funny, I’d never thought of myself changing, just my circumstances. “I guess it started-oh, almost two years ago,” I told him, “when Mamie Wright was killed the night it was my turn to address Real Murders.”
The salads left, and the main course came while I was telling Martin about Real Murders and what had happened that spring.
“You’re certainly not going to think I’m quiet after hearing all that,” I said ruefully. “You had better tell me about your growing up, Martin.”
