Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (13 page)

I reached for his hand, an array of emotions swirling in my belly. “No, don’t. Stay for dinner. I shouldn’t have—it was my fault.”

“Really, I could go.”

“And be accused of avoiding you again? No, thanks. Besides, you haven’t met all of my kids.” No matter how much I’d dreaded this moment, I knew it was time to let Fletcher back into my life.

I took two teetering steps before Fletcher grabbed my hand and steadied me. “Wait.” He emptied the rest of the wine on the grass, his cockiness shaken raw. “Okay, now we can go.”

Regret oozed from his pores, his touch cautious. And for a brief moment I didn’t recognize the man who once owned my heart.

***

7:23 p.m.

INVISIBLE WEIGHTS PRESSED ME down as Elizabeth prayed over the food, my mind crisp and clear. Fletcher’s kiss sobered me up fast. What was wrong with me? Why did I let Fletcher kiss me? Stupid question. Of course it was the wine. But why didn’t I pull away sooner? Surely I didn’t mean for the kiss to happen. Or did I? Break my heart once, shame on you. Break it twice, shame on me.

The chatter around the dining room table blended into one giant racket. I pushed on my temples fighting the growing migraine as Fletcher sat opposite me in Jack’s seat, trading jokes with Ben and Luke on his left. Elizabeth sat silent to my right, while Hattie and Rachel, Elizabeth’s ten-year-old, chatted next to her about school and sports.

Longing for the innocent love I once knew swelled as I watched Danny engrossed in the beauty next to me. He clung to Cherilyn’s every word, sprinkling hot pepper on his lasagna haphazardly. Matt, the only quiet kid in the group, sat next to Fletcher, gobbling his food in typical teenage fashion and reached for seconds before I’d taken my first bite.

“Great eats, Hattie.” Fletcher shoveled a forkful into his mouth. “I guess you didn’t inherit your mom’s cooking gene.”

Hattie blushed, her chocolate eyes sparkling through her mousy brown bangs. “It’s from Romano’s, Mr. Murdock.”

“I stand corrected.” Fletcher’s charm labored overtime. “You did inherit your mom’s cooking gene. Did she ever tell you about the time she ordered a huge gourmet dinner and passed it off as her own?”

“No.” Matt stared Fletcher down. “She’s never mentioned
you
before.”

Lasagna caught in my throat. I gulped some water. “So, Fletcher, how’s the excavation going in Egypt?”

“As well as expected. They had last-minute trouble with the Egyptian government not wanting to release the artifacts, but since the university is funding the operation and with the substantial amount of money the antiquities are expected to generate on the tour, Egypt loaned the artifacts for thirty percent of the revenue collected on admission to the exhibits.”

“Why do we have to pay Egypt to see all the stuff the mummies left behind?” Ben inquired with a mouthful; his green eyes the exact shade of Jack’s.

I held my finger to my lips and eyed my ill-mannered son. “Remember I told you many of the great tombs have been raided?”

Ben nodded. “By tomb raiders.”

“Like the game?” Luke asked.

“Not exactly. Greedy people have stolen valuable pieces of history to sell them on the black market without regard to how priceless they are to society.” The voices around the table quieted. “With the demand for these artifacts growing, more of Egypt’s treasures are in danger of being stolen by people who only want to use them to make money or keep them locked up for themselves.”

“If that happens, more and more history will be lost forever,” Fletcher added between bites.

“What’s the big deal about history anyway?” Matt mumbled.

I shot him “the look.” “History teaches us about life and ancient civilizations. How people lived long ago. It helps us learn from past mistakes. Maybe if you paid more attention to history, you wouldn’t be in the mess you’re in.”

Matt rolled his eyes and pushed his chair from the table. “I’m outta here.” He scaled the stairs two at a time.

“Moooom! It’s Matt’s turn to clear. I cooked.” Hattie pouted.

“You didn’t cook, you heated up,” Ben chided.

The bickering penetrated my head like a dull sword. I pushed my half-finished plate away.

“How about I do the dishes?” Fletcher rose and grabbed Matt’s plate. “Payment for this great meal.”

Elizabeth scooted her chair from the table. “Let me help.” It was the most she’d said all evening.

I carried my plate to the kitchen and set it in the sink. “Elizabeth, you’ve done enough. You’re my guest. Go sit. Hattie will bring dessert in a minute.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grew big. “Mari, you look a little flushed. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“I don’t know if it’s too much wine or the wreck earlier that’s bringing on another doozy of a headache.”

“I have some Ibuprofen in my purse,” Elizabeth offered as she loaded the plates in the dishwasher.

“I don’t think that’ll help it.”

“Do you have something stronger in the house? Maybe I could ask Cherilyn if she has anything?”

I shook my head, which rattled what was left of my brain. “I think I’m out of luck. I took the last of Cherilyn’s Midol earlier and the only medicine in the house is children’s Tylenol. I wish I had more of Peter’s migraine killer. It really works wonders.”

“I’ll run to the store and get some.” Elizabeth dried her hands on the dishtowel. “What is it?”

“Some kind of herbal remedy. I forget the name.”

“You really shouldn’t take anything without your doctor’s approval. Many people don’t realize herbs can be dangerous drugs.”

A little late for the health lecture. I pretended I didn’t hear as I reached for the empty lasagna tray Fletcher handed me. A strained look passed from Elizabeth to Fletcher. Stumbling, I hit the counter and steadied myself.

Elizabeth rested her hand on my shoulder, her eyes full of concern. “What was the herb you took?”

“I’m not sure.” I felt like I was falling. “Free fall …”

“Feverfew?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Danny set his plate in the sink. “I’ll check it out on the internet.”

“Come lie down.” Elizabeth led me to the couch. “The kids will finish cleaning.”

Thirty minutes later, Fletcher stood over me with a cool cloth on my head. The situation seemed uncomfortably familiar. According to the information Danny found on the internet, Feverfew was a flower. I probably had an allergic reaction compounded with the wine and would be fine after flushing my body with water and getting plenty of rest. Elizabeth reluctantly left me in the care of Fletcher and made me promise to call her chiropractor for an appointment.

I glanced out the window, watching the twinkling Christmas lights in the reflection. Danny stepped into my vision and strolled closer to Cherilyn with thumbs hooked in his pockets. She responded to his advance by tossing her hair and laughing. Then he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the porch swing. I shook my head. Oh, the mating rituals of the young and the restless.

“Can I get you anything?” Fletcher looked helpless, like an expectant father pacing the waiting room floor.

“A glass of ice water, and could you crack the window? Fresh air always helps to ease my nausea.”

“That’s right.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

The blinking of the Christmas tree lights lulled my spirit, and I smiled. At first I had hated the flashing lights Jack had grown up with, but soon found comfort in the shadowy patterns they made on the ceiling. I noticed the presents the kids had wrapped for Jack piled underneath the tree. My chest knotted. Where was Fletcher with my water?

“I don’t care about your past.” Danny’s voice carried through the open window. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth.” Cherilyn tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Nothing you’ve done could be bad enough for me to stop … being your friend. I want to help.”

She sniffled, and Danny put his arm around her.
Way to go, playmaker.

Cherilyn settled into the crook of his arm. “Remember I told you I didn’t return to school last year after Christmas break?”

“Yeah, your mom was sick. You stayed to help her. She’s okay, isn’t she?”

“No … I mean, yes. She was never sick.”

“Hey, I understand. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” He drew her close and rested his chin on the top of her head.

Cherilyn nestled in his arms. “This thing with Professor Henderson makes it all more real. I mean, life can change so quickly and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Resist the urge to speak, Danny. She’s almost ready to spill her guts.

“I went home because …” She drew in a breath and blew out. “Because I was pregnant.”

Silence filled the emptiness. I clamped my hand over my mouth. Cherilyn St. Jean. C.S.

“So you gave your baby up for adoption. That’s not a crime. In fact, I think that’s probably the toughest and most selfless thing a girl could do for her kid. I’m glad my birth mom gave me up instead of—”

“Danny, stop. Just stop.” Cherilyn pushed away and stood. “I didn’t give the baby up. I had an abortion.” She ran off toward the gazebo. Danny didn’t follow.

Go after her, Danny. Don’t let this come between you two.

I lay down. My skin squirmed at the image of her and Henderson. But the signs were there. She was practically hysterical when she found Henderson. And there were the rose-scented letters. But why did C.S. go ahead with the abortion? Maybe Henderson had threatened her. Cherilyn could have blackmailed him for revenge for making her have an abortion.

That didn’t make sense. Why would she jeopardize her reputation? Maybe someone else learned about the pregnancy and was using the information to line his own pockets. How much was Henderson’s tenure worth to him, and what would he pay to keep his affair with a young coed quiet?

Loud steps echoed on the porch. I peeked out the window and noticed Danny talking to someone in a dark suit. I shot up and swung my legs over the side of the couch. Tiny stars pierced my vision. I had no idea Lopez would show up at my door when I left him that message earlier.

Fletcher blocked my path, a glass of ice water in hand. “Whoa there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Detective Lopez is here.”

“You need to rest. Doctor’s orders.” He handed me my water. “I’ll see what he wants.”

Fletcher to the rescue again. I was in no mood to go head to head with Lopez. I took a long drink and scooted toward my red tote bag resting on the floor at the opposite end of the couch. Seconds later, Lopez stood in my living room.

“I thought only doctors made house calls.” Fletcher puffed his chest, sizing up the detective.

“Lyndon P.D. aims to please.” Lopez flashed his coffee-stained grin and turned to Fletcher.

“I thought you guys aim to kill?”

Lopez stepped toward the couch and sat. “Do you mind if I talk to Mrs. Duggins alone?”

The vein in Fletcher’s neck pulsated.

“He’s okay. I mean, Fletcher can stay. He knows as much as I do. In fact, he found something your officers missed in Professor Henderson’s office.”

Lopez ran his hands through his black hair, his face turning red as he mumbled something about Gowen … rookie … demotion. “We could re-search the office, but it would help speed the investigation if you tell us what you found.” He pulled out a pad and pen.

I clutched my Coach bag. “Letters from Peter Kipling challenging Henderson’s tenure. It’s common knowledge Peter wanted Henderson’s job.”

“Not much of a reason to suspect murder.”

“How about Henderson stealing Peter’s wife?” Fletcher offered.

“Sounds like motive.”

Fletcher shrugged. “People have killed for less.”

I stared at Fletcher. Peter’s guilt had filtered through my mind, but to actually admit it to the detective? “According to Candy and the love letters I told you I found, lots of people had reason to want Professor Henderson dead.” I hesitated before I handed the letters to Lopez. “Here.”

Lopez read them. “Do you have any idea who C.S. is?” Lopez’s smooth Latin voice rubbed me like a grater on parmesan. “Maybe a colleague at the university?”

I pressed my lips together. “No one I can think of at the moment.” Withholding information from the detective had turned into a bad habit. “But you might want to talk to Peter Kipling. He argued with Henderson before he died.” Great! Now I was pointing the finger at Peter to steer him away from Cherilyn. I really did need to get my head checked.

Lopez’s eyebrows rose. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

I shrugged. “Guess I forgot.”

“What do you think did Henderson in?” Fletcher cracked his knuckles. “It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to kill a guy with a heart condition.”

I shook my head. Fletcher had as much compassion as the person who actually brought about Henderson’s demise.

Lopez stood. “After the autopsy, we’ll have more conclusive evidence on what killed him. But right now we’re trying to figure out why.”

I showed Lopez to the door. “Will you let me know what the autopsy reveals?”

Lopez’s obligatory nod held some reluctance. “If you remember anything else about C.S., please call.”

As if I could trust him to keep his word. I closed the door and shuffled into the living room.

Fletcher stood, arms crossed. “Don’t even start on me.”

“What?”

“I know that look. You have judgment written on your pretty little face.”

I plopped down on the couch. “I can’t believe you actually think Peter is capable of murder.”

“I didn’t hear you steer the focus off of Kipling. You placed him with Henderson right before the murder. If anyone pointed the finger, you did.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m distracted and riled about Peter accusing Jack.”

Giggles erupted from outside. Fletcher leaned toward the window. “Hey, you two! Get a room.”

I swatted his arm. “Leave them alone. Don’t you remember what it was like?”

“Like it was yesterday.” His gaze penetrated mine.

My heart quickened, but thankfully the wine had worn off. “How could he believe Jack stole an artifact?”

“Danny?”