Gayle Roper - See No Evil

Ken Ryder turned horror-stricken eyes to the sergeant. “My loss!” He swung back toward the body bag. “No. You’re mistaken. You have to be. Not Dorothy!” His face crumpled as the gurney was lifted into the coroner’s van. “Not Dorothy!”

Gray and I walked back to the model house in silence, Sergeant Poole, Officer Schumann and the police photographer following. They wanted to see the evidence of the shot. The reporter trailed along, too. I had been right. It did hurt to walk barefooted on this stony dirt.

As I limped along, I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind of the distraught Mr. Ryder all but collapsing as they wheeled away his wife’s body. I rubbed my arms to get rid of the emotional goose bumps, but they weren’t the kind I could rub away.

Gray saw the motion, and he looked from me to my old Caravan.

“Why don’t you just go on home, Anna?” he said. “It’s been a hard night. I’m sure the sergeant wouldn’t mind if I showed him what he needs to see.”

I sighed again. “I wish I could just leave, but I’ve got to go inside. My purse. And I’ve got to finish hanging that treatment before it gets too wrinkled.”

“Okay, get your purse, but then go. It’s after eleven. You’ve got to be beat. Finish the window tomorrow.”

“I can’t. I’ve also got to pin the drapes up off the floor so the rug can be installed tomorrow.”

Gray frowned. “I’m not much of a decorator, but wouldn’t it have been easier to wait until the rug was in to hang the things?”

“The rug was originally laid yesterday, but the interior designer—”

“That would be you.”

“No, not me. The woman I work for. She took one look at the rug and screamed, ‘It’s the wrong color green! Too yellow. Too yellow. Get it out of here!’ I was hanging the treatments in the master bedroom at the time and heard the whole thing.”

“So a new rug in a different shade of green arrives tomorrow.”

“Yep, and since I don’t know what time, I have to leave everything ready tonight.”

Gray nodded. “Let me get another shirt from my gym bag, and I’ll help.” He reached behind the seat of his silver pickup, parked behind my Caravan, pulled a black nylon bag out, and rooted around until he found a gray T-shirt. He pulled it over his head.

He wrinkled his nose. “A bit ripe. I wore it to play basketball today at lunch, but at least I feel decent. I’d advise you not to get too close though.” He smiled, and in spite of the emotional intensity of the evening, my toes curled.

Oh, for goodness sakes, Anna, get a grip!

We walked to the house and went inside. We found Sergeant Poole in the living room, staring at the ceiling. I looked up, and there was a hole where the bullet had struck. I hadn’t noticed it before.

“See it, Schumann?” Poole bellowed.

Schumann’s voice floated down the stairwell. “It’s lodged in the side of a night table.”

Rather the night table than me. I walked to the Tuscan Vine draped over the slipper chair.

“Let me hold the material for you.” Gray reached out a hand. “I promise not to bleed on anything.”

“What are you doing?” Poole asked, his gaze suddenly fixed on me.

I stopped, startled, one foot on the ladder. “I need to finish hanging this treatment.”

The sergeant shook his head. “Not tonight. The crime scene guys need to go over the room first.”

Gray made a noise of distress, then held up a hand as Poole glared at him. “I understand, Sergeant, but it does make things difficult for me and for Anna.”

“They shouldn’t be too long in here. Just pictures and the removal of the slug. Oh, and scrapings of the blood for analysis. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.”

“There’s a rug being laid tomorrow,” I said.

“Not until we’re finished here there isn’t.”

“And the model house opens to the public Saturday.”

“Probably.”

Recognizing an immovable object when I saw one, I nodded at the sergeant and carefully laid the lovely silk fabric over the slipper chair again. This time I took care to smooth it.

“Go on home, you two,” Sergeant Poole said. “We’ll make certain the place is locked when we’re finished.”

I grabbed my purse. As Gray and I walked out of the room, the sergeant called, “By the way, the place looks very nice.”

“Thanks.” Nice. We had been going for a lot more than nice.

Gray walked to my Caravan with me. I smiled at him, uncertain how to end the evening. On one hand, I’d just met him. On the other, we’d shared a pretty intense experience. Before the situation became too awkward and for want of a better idea, I stuck out my hand to shake good night. “I’m glad you were here. I’d have hated to go through all this alone.”

He waved my thanks away. “I’m going to follow you home to make sure you get there, okay?”

I was impressed and felt warmed right to the cockles of my heart, wherever those were. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I’d just like to.” He paused. “You don’t live, like, miles and miles away, do you?”

“No, about ten minutes.” Which, out in western Chester County, was nothing. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be. Still, I won’t sleep unless I know you’re safe. It’s a guy thing.”

“Protect the ladies?”

He shrugged. “What can I say?”

My stomach growled, and I flinched. So feminine and becoming.

He laughed as I pressed a hand against my middle. “Me, too. I never did get any dinner.” He checked his watch, something he’d been doing off and on all evening. “I think the only place that’s probably still open besides Wawa or Turkey Hill mini-marts is the Wendy’s window. Is that okay with you?”

I nodded, unreasonably glad I’d get to spend a bit more time with him. “We can pick something up and take it to my house.”

Gray climbed into his truck and followed me to Wendy’s and then to the three bedroom brick ranch I shared with Lucy and Meaghan in a modest neighborhood set on a hilltop. On the way we passed my favorite house, a beautiful and unique place that was part restoration of a great historic barn and part new construction with lots of windows and gables. Somehow it all worked, and as I stared up the long maple-tree-lined drive, I grinned. My window treatments hung in that house.

I pulled into the drive of our ranch, a far cry from the mansion I admired from afar, but a whole lot more user-friendly. I parked in the turnaround, the place designated for my Caravan since it was by far the worst of our three vehicles, and the weather couldn’t possibly do it any harm. Gray pulled up in front of the garage door.

I climbed down from the van, glad he was with me. The strips of woods between the houses might be a welcome privacy screen most of the time, but tonight they looked like menacing hiding places for assassins looking to take out witnesses. I walked quickly to the front door of the dark house, Gray right behind me.

“Looks like everyone’s in bed,” I said as I unlocked the door.

We had just stepped into the entry hall when the bedroom hall light flicked on. A very tousled Lucy appeared in her Girls Rule, Boys Drool sleep shirt, talking as she came. Her red curls corkscrewed wildly about her head, and her big black cat Tipsy lolled in her arms.

“And just what took you so long, Miss Anna?” she asked. “I was getting worried about you over there in that unpopulated place all alone.” Then she saw Gray. An appalled expression on her face, she darted back out of sight.

“That’s Lucy,” I said around a laugh. “And the furry monster in her arms is Tipsy. Luce, this is Grayson Edwards.”