An Appointment With Murder (4 page)

Forty minutes later I exited my chamber of solace, bathrobe on, and made my way to the bedroom. This time I did glance down the hall. Daniel was still sitting on the couch, alone, wine glass in hand, drinking my favorite bottle of pinot.

The next morning I awoke alone in bed. I rubbed my eyes, pushed up onto my elbows, and looked around the room. Sunday mornings usually consisted of sleeping in ’til ten or eleven, walking around in pajamas, and eating powdered sugar donuts for lunch. Sunday was my day to be lazy, but for some reason I was feeling charged with an amazing energy I hadn’t felt for a long time.

I began to mentally plan my day. I would go to the gym for a cardio workout, stop at the grocery store on the way back, make my family a proper meal, and then suggest that we all go to a matinee, order a huge bucket of popcorn, and stuff our faces while watching some wonderful, mindless adventure flick. On the way to the kitchen, I noticed Daniel conked out on the couch, an empty bottle of wine next to him on the coffee table. He was lying on his side, face to the back of the couch. My hand trembled slightly as I left a note on the kitchen table outlining my plans for the day. Gym bag slung over my shoulder, I slipped out the door and got into my car.

* * *

After thirty minutes on the treadmill, I went into the locker room and stripped the sweaty clothes from my body. Drying off after my shower, I overheard two women talking in the changing room next to me. When I realized what they were talking about, I sat on the bench and listened.

“Liz told me she heard something about a girl who was murdered at that massage parlor downtown. I always had a strange feeling about that place. Seedy, if you ask me. Someone told me they were selling hand-jobs there. Can you believe that? How disgusting.” The woman’s voice was nasal, her tone hushed, confidential.

“Really? Then why hasn’t the city shut them down?”

“Probably because the chief of police is their best customer!”

“Oh, cut it out, Joan. You’re such a horrid gossip.”

The women laughed softly for a moment, then I heard a door open and close.

Silence.

I dressed and eased out of the stall, looking around me apprehensively. A raw fury was building in my gut as I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. If I had any guts, I would have confronted those women. I despised people like them. I’d worked hard over the years to establish a reputation as a respectable massage therapist in this community, spent countless hours trying to educate people about the importance of therapeutic touch, only to have it impugned by a couple of ignorant bitches clueless as to the long-term damage that could be occasioned by idle gossip such as theirs.

As I walked out to my car, I noticed a voice message on my cell. I pressed the listen key and was treated to Daniel’s voice informing me he was planning to stay in bed all day because of an upset stomach, that Brian had plans with friends, and so brunch and a movie would have to wait for another day. I dropped my bag in the car and walked across the street to a café that prominently displayed a sign proclaiming
Breakfast Served All Day.
Figuring I’d burned enough calories at the gym, I walked inside and took a seat at the counter. An older woman in a coffee spattered, pink apron immediately set a mug in front of me and began pouring a dark, steamy liquid into it.

“Cream ‘n sugar?” she asked in a raspy voice.

“No, thanks. Can I order some pancakes, please?” I asked, not wasting any time.

The waitress turned and walked away, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.

I cupped my hands around the mug and began to sip the coffee. The smell of frying bacon overwhelmed me as I glanced around the diner. Only one other person sat in a booth at the far end of the room. After a few minutes, the silence was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Looking behind me, I blinked a few times at the form that came through the door. Tall and dark-blonde, wearing a green fleece jacket and khaki cargo pants, the man was a spitting image of the famous actor Matthew McConaughey in his younger years. Realizing I had gazed overlong at this apparition, I turned back around to face the counter just as my breakfast arrived. I heard footsteps behind me, then shifted slightly on the seat as the man took the stool next to mine. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him survey the board of lunch specials hanging directly in front of us.

“Is the coffee good here?” he asked, continuing to look at the lunch board. I glanced around the room. The waitress having already started back towards the kitchen, I had to assume he was talking to me.

“It’s fine,” I said, swallowing and wiping my mouth with a napkin.

“Do you come here often, Sarah?” he asked. When I turned my head, rather more quickly than I intended, to look at him, he gave me a sideward glace.

“Do I know you?” I asked, not recognizing him.

“Not really,” he said, looking away.

“Then how do you know me?”

“My sister, Beth, worked for you.”

My jaw dropped and my fork went clattering to the floor.

“I’m sorry. Beth never mentioned a brother.”

“Well, she’d been a little pre-occupied lately.” He turned and extended his hand. I took it, shook it weakly.

“I’m Max Stevens.”

“Sarah . . . well, I guess you know my name. So how did you know I was here?” I realized, as it slowed, that my heart had been racing. Looking into his face, I noticed a small scar on one side of his chin.

“My little sister is dead. I know the police haven’t come up with anything. But I think I know who killed her,” he said, resting an elbow on the counter.

The waitress returned and asked what he would like. Just coffee. He paused as she filled his mug. When she left, he sipped his coffee and resumed talking.

“I can’t prove it, but I think her fiancé had something to do with it.”

“But Jacob has an alibi. The police confirmed it.”

He looked down into his coffee, seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I have a phone message from Beth on my cell from the night she was killed.” He paused and glanced around the diner. “She called me from your office, said she was about to leave work and was going to stop by to pick up a book she wanted to borrow. A travel book on Mexico, where she wanted to go on her honeymoon.” His voice was almost a whisper now. “But as she was talking, she was interrupted by someone. It seemed like it was someone she knew. Then there was a loud crack, as if the phone had struck a hard surface. Whoever knocked the phone out of her hand has to be her killer.”

“Why do you think it might be Jacob?” I asked, leaning in closer to him.

“I never had a good feeling about him. The few times I met him, he seemed controlling. He had an edge to him. Beth couldn’t see it; she was too close. I once tried telling her how I felt about him. That was a mistake.” He rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t know.”

“People kill out of jealousy all the time,” he said. I noticed his foot tapping nervously on the footrest of the stool. “I could be wrong about him, but my gut tells me otherwise.” I shrugged and looked around. I desperately needed more coffee and the damned waitress was probably taking a cigarette break. I stared down at the half eaten pancakes on the plate in front of me.

“When the detective called,” Max continued over the instrumental version of a Barry Manilow song playing in the background, “he mentioned that you were there when she died. Didn’t you see anything?”

“No. Whoever it was hit me from behind as I leaned over your sister,” I said, omitting details.

“The detective said you were lucky,” he said, blinking at me.

I nodded and tried to smile. “By the way, Max,” I began, then watched his expression as I asked, “do you drive a white Subaru Outback?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Gabby, the massage therapist I work with, said she saw Beth talking to someone in a Subaru, and that she acted funny about it the next day when Gabby asked who it was”

“The detective said they couldn’t find Beth’s cell phone,” Max said, letting the matter of the Subaru drop. “Do you suppose the killer took it with him?”

“Must have. Where else would it be?” I planted an elbow on the counter and rested my chin on my fist.

“Interesting,” he said, slowly getting up. He reached into his pocket and tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter. “By the way Sarah, I was able to convince the police to hold off releasing Beth’s name to the press for a week or so. I’d like the details of her death not to become public until we have a handle on the situation. We’re having a private service for her Tuesday at 10 a.m. at Coombs Funeral Home. Family members and close friends. Of course, I hope you’ll be there.”

I turned as he started to leave and asked, “What are you going to do about Jacob?”

He paused, looked down at the floor, and said, “Nothing . . . yet.”

Max’s handsome features seemed strained.

“I’ll see you Tuesday, then,” I said softly.

“Bye, Sarah.” He turned and walked out the door.

* * *

Leaving the café and the plate of cold pancakes, I drove to the movie theater and bought a ticket to “That’s the Way Love Goes.” A romantic comedy about two people who meet in a karaoke club and fall in love would be a welcome distraction, and preferable, in any case, to going home to face the music.

After the movie, I stopped at the supermarket and returned home with a trunk full of groceries. The weather having taken a turn for the worse, I was looking forward to slipping into my pajamas and cuddling in bed with a good book. Pulling up to a dark house, I made my way, in the rain, to the back door clutching bags of groceries, and noticed Daniel’s car was gone. Guess he was feeling better. He’d probably gone out for a beer and burger with his pal, Eddie, and Brian was probably still at Nick’s. I found myself pleased by the prospect of having the house to myself. Heaving the bags onto the kitchen table, my finger instinctively felt for and flipped the light switch. The thought that the bulb had burned out was dismissed when the light switch by the stove produced the same results. The power was out. Rummaging in the kitchen drawer for a stray candle and matches, my finger brushed something sharp.

“Damn it!” I muttered, soto voce, closing my lips around my finger, the salty taste of blood filling my mouth. I leaned against the counter. Perfect. The one and only night I happen to be in the house alone and there’s no electricity.

As I walked across the kitchen towards the living room, I thought I heard a sound in the hall. I froze. I listened again. Was someone in my house? Panicked, I snatched a dirty knife from the counter and held on to the handle with both hands. I stood glued to the floor, the thumping of my heart hindering my ability to hear anything else. I was terrified, but told myself not to succumb to the fear. If someone meant to do me harm, I would be ready this time. My trepidation quickly turned to anger and my legs began to move as if of their own volition. I started down the hall armed with a weapon that probably couldn’t cut through a bowl of Jell-o.

“Who’s there?” I called out, sweat beginning to trickle down my back. Noticing, as I peered into my bedroom, a flicker of light illuminating a person’s shadow, my fingers tightened around the knife handle. The shadow moved and I lunged into the bedroom, stumbling over something on the floor and landed hard on my knee right next to my bed. The knife slipped out of my hands and clattered across the hardwood floor. As I scrambled to my feet, I heard a familiar voice.

“Sarah! What in the world are you doing?” It was Daniel, standing at the end of the bed holding a candle. Looking around the bedroom, I saw four or five lighted candles and heard soft music playing in the background.

Daniel walked over and draped his arms around me. “Scared you, didn’t I?” he said, pulling me close. I felt my body slump against his as tears of relief ran down my face.

“Guess my emotions are rubbed raw,” I said, smiling up at him. His wavy brown hair was wet and his skin smelled of soap.

“Poor sweetheart,” he chuckled, obviously amused by the situation. If I hadn’t felt so relieved, I would have slapped him. But then his mood changed. He became quite serious as he looked down at me, an odd glimmer in his eye.

“Since we have no electricity, why don’t we use this romantic candlelight to our advantage?” he suggested, removing my jacket.

“Thought you were sick.”

“Oh, that,” he said, scratching his chin. “That was just me being a big baby.” He bent down and kissed me on the lips.

“Where’s Brian?” I asked.

“I told him he could drive my car over to Nick’s,” he said, the warm candlelight playing over his face.

“I see. I suppose you think you’re going to get lucky tonight,” I teased.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he said as he unbuttoned my blouse. Then he picked me up, deposited me gently on the bed, and kissed me again, slow and soft, the way he used to when we first met. “Can you forgive me for being such a selfish prick?” he implored, holding my face in his hands and starting to kiss my neck.

“Well, I can see you’re trying very hard to make it up to me.”

I closed my eyes and willed myself to feel something. Anything. Unfortunately, my heart just wasn’t in it. And why not? Maybe it was the fact that I had just been through a traumatic ordeal. Or maybe it was merely the absence of passion between us that had existed for so long.

But wanting to avoid a quarrel, I let him undress me anyway. I was simply too tired to say no.

I stood in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water wash over me. Life was peculiar. Daniel’s tenderness the night before had astonished me. It was as if he finally got it. All I ever needed from him was a little attention. But now that he seemed ready to give it, I wasn’t so sure I wanted it. Was my heart already resigned? Realizing that marital problems weren’t resolved overnight, I decided to put concerns about it out of my head for the time being. It was apparent that neither one of us was going anywhere anytime soon, and there were other issues to contend with. Knowing I had to pull myself together and get back to work was a relief of sorts. I needed the distraction. As I was readying myself for my return to the office, Daniel came into the bedroom, suitcase in hand, dressed in his customary business attire. He dropped the bag and extended his arms to me.