all night either, not that it was any of her business.
“Has Sully gotten any rest?” she asked, trying to sound casually inquiring and failing miserably.
Mary gave her a knowing smile. “He came in for coffee and I hid his keys this morning. He got about two hours of sleep. Don’t worry. His naval training has put him in better shape than most for this sort of thing.”
“Is it just me or is this the best food you’ve ever eaten?” Beth asked through a mouthful.
Obviously, shoveling snow had given the woman an appetite; her plate was almost clean. Then Lindsey glanced down at her own plate. Where had all the food gone?
Mary laughed at both of them and dished up some more of the ham and potatoes and bread. They ate hurriedly, and when her belly was full, Lindsey was sure that if she lay down on the table she’d sleep for a week.
“I don’t want to chase off the only pretty customers we’ve had,” Ian said as he approached the table, “but the wind is picking up and the snow is falling harder. You’d better get while the getting is good.”
“Be careful,” Mary said as she hugged them both.
Beth and Lindsey bundled back up. Stepping out into the biting wind and thick snow was almost more than Lindsey could stand. She grabbed the shovels and held on to Beth as they zipped back to Nancy’s house.
The porch and path to the front door had been cleared, but the snow was beginning to pile up again.
“Why don’t you stay here?” she asked Beth. “It might be safer if the storm gets really nasty.”
“I can’t leave Slinky and Skippy John,” Beth said.
Lindsey wanted to argue, but she knew how much Beth loved her two kitties.
“Besides, I have to get this snowmobile back to Mr. Chester so he doesn’t worry.”
“Be safe,” Lindsey said.
“I will,” Beth promised. “Mr. Chester has a cell phone. I’ll call and let you know I made it.”
“All right,” Lindsey said. “Don’t forget.”
Beth nodded and revved the engine. Lindsey watched her hop over the drifts with a nervous flutter in her chest. She glanced up at the sky. The snow pelted down onto her goggles, melting against the flesh-warmed plastic until all she could see was spots.
CHAPTER 17
BRIAR CREEK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
Heathcliff danced a doggy dance of delight when Lindsey stepped through the door. She smiled, almost tempted to match his happy dance. There was something about coming home to a being that had no compunction about showing how much he had missed her that made Lindsey’s mood lighten even as the storm beat down on the eaves with a hammering that was relentless.
Although they had not discussed it, they all gathered in Nancy’s living room to while away the rest of the afternoon and evening. They cooked spaghetti on Charlie’s stove while Nancy whipped up a salad and Lindsey ran up to her apartment to bring down a fresh loaf of olive bread.
They ate in candlelight, and conversation moved from Charlie’s tour and the uncertain future of the band to what Lindsey had seen while she was digging out the library.
Carrie offered to help Lindsey with the dishes. Since she was bone weary from shoveling the snow, Lindsey was grateful for the assist.
The window over the kitchen sink looked out over the side yard, and Lindsey noticed that Carrie scanned the yard every time her gaze strayed to the window.
“Are you looking for your kids?” she asked. “Are they on their way?”
“No.” Carrie shook her head. “I told them to wait until the roads were passable. Our family has suffered enough tragedy for the time being.”
Lindsey was silent for a moment, not sure if she should say more, but she wanted Carrie to know that she could talk to her.
“What is it, then?” she asked. She figured it was better to offer Carrie the opportunity to talk even if Carrie gave her the brush-off. “It’s obvious something is on your mind.”
“I just”-Carrie hesitated-“I just can’t help wondering if Markus was the intended target of the shooter.”
“What do you mean?” Lindsey handed her the last of the dripping plates.
“I mean, and I know this sounds nuts, but what if the killer was looking for me?”
“Is there a reason you think this?”
“Well, I know Markus wasn’t very well liked,” Carrie said. “But I don’t think anyone hated him enough to shoot him. He rarely left the house. He never left his zip code. Who could have wanted him dead?”
“The police don’t think it was an accident, do they?”
“They haven’t said for sure.”
“But?”
“But I don’t see how they could,” Carrie said. “Both of my neighbors have called me to see how I’m doing, and when we talked about what happened, neither of them could remember hearing anything like a shot being fired in the evening. No matter what the medical examiner says, I know he was shot after seven o’clock, because when I left the house, he was fine.”
“It’s nice of your neighbors to check on you,” Lindsey said.
“Well, we’ve all lived there for twenty-five years. Marcia lives on one side and Cindy on the other,” Carrie said. “Our kids ran in and out of each other’s houses for years. I know them almost as well as I know myself.”
She stacked the dried plate on top of the pile, and Lindsey put the stack up in the cupboard.
“But if what you say is true, then you’re saying someone would want to shoot you. You’re very well liked in the community,” Lindsey said. “I can’t imagine that anyone would want to harm you.”
Carrie carefully folded her dish towel and placed it on the counter. When she looked up again, her brown eyes were troubled.
“There’s one person,” she said. “But I hate to name names. I mean, what if I’m wrong? That would be slander.”
Lindsey studied her. She thought about who in town might have a grudge against Carrie. One name leapt forward and she said, “How about if I guess?”
Carrie raised her brows and nodded.
“Marjorie Bilson, aka Batty Bilson, who apparently has a passion for Bill Sint?” Lindsey asked and Carrie gasped.
“How did you know that was who I was thinking?”
“Because she’s off her rocker,” Lindsey said. “She came after me when you took over Bill’s role as president of the Friends.”
“Really?”
Lindsey nodded. A draft of cold air circled around her and she shivered. “Come on, let’s talk by the fire.”
They rejoined Charlie and Nancy in the living room. The two of them were engrossed in a game of chess. Judging by the accumulated pieces by each of them, Charlie was winning.
Lindsey and Carrie sat down on the hearth and let the fire’s heat wash over their backs. Soon it would be too hot to sit this close, but for the moment it felt good. Heathcliff lay down beside Lindsey and rested his chin on her feet. She reached down and gently rubbed his ears.
“The day after Markus was shot, I got a weird and very creepy phone call from Marjorie Bilson,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t mention it to you because I felt you had enough going on, but I did play it for Officer Plewicki and she recorded it.”
“What did it say?” Carrie asked.
“Basically, that now that you were going to jail for murdering your husband, she wanted to know when Bill would be reinstated as the president of the Friends.”
Both Charlie and Nancy turned their attention from the game to listen.
