Jacqueline Diamond – The Police Chief's Lady (страница 9)

By all accounts, Barry had been an ambitious teenager, editing the school paper and working part time for his parents’ Gazette. He’d made no secret of his plans to write for a major newspaper someday.

When he was seventeen, he was accused of killing a farmer during a prank. Based on the testimony of his best friend, Barry had been convicted of manslaughter, despite his claim that he’d only struck a glancing blow in self-defense.

Although Ethan’s family had moved away by then, he’d read the police reports since his return. The case was a tragedy all around, since it seemed obvious Barry hadn’t intended to harm anyone. Still, he must have struck harder than he realized, because the farmer died of his injuries.

In prison, Barry had taken college courses and, following his release, earned a journalism degree from the University of Tennessee. His murder conviction had ended his dreams of making it in the big league, however, and he’d eventually returned to Downhome to take over the Gazette from his parents.

“So you get to relax for the weekend?” Ethan asked, making conversation.

“No. I’ve got an advertising publication to put together.” Barry downed a handful of french fries before continuing. “And I’m working on a story of my own, kind of a long-term thing. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’ll be in my office for a few hours tomorrow,” Ethan said. “If you want to access records, though, you’ll need to wait till Monday, when Amy’s on duty.”

“No, no, I’d just like to show you what I’ve put together. I’d appreciate your opinion,” Barry explained.

“It’s a crime story?” This aroused Ethan’s interest. If the newspaper planned to run an exposé, he wanted advance notice. “I’d be glad to read it.”

Barry swept aside the remains of his meal. “Are you free tonight?”

It occurred to Ethan that his colleagues in Nashville would have found it odd to see a police chief eating dinner with a convicted murderer, and even odder to find him treating the man as a friend. But Barry Lowell had reclaimed his place in society, and besides, Ethan liked him.

“Sure. We can walk over to your office right now.”

“It’s not at the office. It’s at my house,” Barry said. “I was hoping you could stop in on your way home.”

Now, that was a tough one, Ethan thought ironically. He’d just been invited to the very place where Jenni, Karen et al were probably dissecting him and the town’s other single men.

Discretion urged him to schedule a visit some other time. But he’d like to get his outreach program started this summer, and if he had a chance to join the conversation, he might be able to enlist the support of the other ladies.

He supposed the tactic might irritate Jenni. On the other hand, she could hold her own, and Ethan was in the mood for a round of sparring.

“That would be fine,” he replied.

Barry crumpled his paper napkin. “Let’s go.”

THE LOWELLS’ TWO-STORY BRICK HOUSE on Heritage Avenue rang with lively voices and good fellowship. Jenni found it hard to believe she was the center of attention, accepted by the other women as if she belonged here.

She wasn’t accustomed to belonging. They almost seemed to have mistaken her for someone else—although she knew that wasn’t true.

Karen had set out her best patterned china on the cloth-covered dining table, along with a plate of deviled eggs and platters of cold cuts and sliced bread. She’d waved away Jenni’s offer to cook something, as well—a relief to Jenni, since her chief culinary skill was reheating pizza.

Jenni was surprised to discover that Karen’s women friends ranged in age from their thirties all the way up to 80, but in a town this small, she learned, people didn’t segregate along age lines—and the menu proved the big winner. Gwen Martin had brought incredible pastries from her café. Rosie O’Bannon, the forty-something owner of the beauty parlor, produced a multilayered taco dip with sour cream, guacamole and refried beans. She proudly offered it as a California recipe in Jenni’s honor.

Rosie’s niece, Leah, a first-grade teacher, was introduced as Karen’s best pal since childhood. She’d prepared not one but two dishes—a green bean casserole and a Jell-O mold. Leah radiated goodwill, appearing not the least threatened that her closest pal had acquired a new friend.

From the nursing home, Karen had fetched Mae Anne McRay, the liveliest octogenarian Jenni had ever met, who’d prepared a fruit salad. Despite being confined to a wheelchair due to osteoporosis, she served on the city council.

Two people were missing. Renée Lowell, Karen and Barry’s mother, whom Jenni had met previously, had stayed at the convalescent home because of a headache. A quadriplegic since a tractor hit her car years earlier, Renée had inspired Karen to apply her business administration training to running the convalescent center.

In addition, Amy Arroyo, the police chief’s notoriously absentminded secretary, hadn’t shown up by the time the women began taking their places around the table. Karen went into the kitchen to call her and returned a few minutes later.

“She forgot,” she reported.

“No surprise there,” Gwen responded.

“She said she’s taking a bubble bath and reading a book. Naturally, she didn’t remember to fix any food, either.” Karen shook her head indulgently. “I urged her to come anyway, but she declined. I think she was embarrassed.”

“She should be,” Mae Anne observed.

“I hope it’s a good book. Still I doubt it’s worth missing this feast,” Jenni said.

“Amy ought to pay more attention to real life,” the hostess replied. “I hope you aren’t offended.”

“Not at all,” Jenni responded. “I learned a long time ago that it’s healthier to forgive and forget.”

“Does that include Ethan Forrest?” Karen teased as she took a seat.

Across the table from Jenni, Leah let out a low whistle. “Getting a little personal, aren’t we?”

“He didn’t mean to attack her in front of the council!” cried Rosie, who, Jenni was learning, tended toward the dramatic. “Surely she doesn’t hold it against him.”

“Of course not. The woman isn’t blind.” Mae Anne helped herself to the Jell-O mold. She’d positioned her wheelchair at the foot of the table, where the food gravitated toward her. “He’s the best-looking single man in Downhome. How could anyone hold a grudge against Ethan?”

“He was at the café earlier.” Gwen tilted her head, apparently visualizing him. “It’s a darn shame he’s still carrying the torch for his late wife. That man’s too good to waste.”

“There are other desirable men around here,” Jenni protested. “Like your brother, Karen.”

“Not in his current state,” her hostess replied promptly. “He’s got too much to prove before he can even consider getting involved with anyone.”

She’d explained earlier about her brother’s murder conviction. Sharing a house with a killer had made Jenni uneasy at first, but Barry had reassured her with his openness and his intellectual curiosity about almost everything. She’d come to believe he really was innocent.

“Rosie’s son Mark is cute,” volunteered Gwen. “He’s a lieutenant at the police department.”

“Too young for me, even if he wasn’t my cousin,” Leah noted. “He’s only twenty-eight. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a girlfriend, though.”

“He went to the senior prom with Amy, but he doesn’t have a girlfriend now,” responded her aunt. “He’ll probably die a bachelor and I’ll never have grandchildren!”

“Aren’t there any other cute guys over thirty?” Jenni asked.

“Pepe Otero.” Rosie clapped her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that! He likes Gwen.”

“He does not,” said the café owner. “Besides, he wouldn’t dare ask me out. It’s kind of a long story, Jenni. See, he gets food at a discount from Beau Johnson, who’s mad as a wet hen because I organize a once-a-month Farmers Market that he considers competition for his grocery store. Beau ups the prices anytime I walk in the door, so I buy my supplies out of town.”

Rosie nodded. “When she needs milk, I pick it up for her.”

Jenni wondered if they were joking. “You don’t mean the grocery store changes prices for different customers!”

“Just Pepe and me,” Gwen explained. Heads nodded. “Pepe gets a discount—because Beau figures his restaurant is my competition.”

“Well, if Pepe won’t ask out the woman of his dreams because he might have to pay more for milk, he’s a pretty poor prospect,” Jenni said.

“I agree,” Gwen volunteered. “A man ought to have the courage of his convictions. A woman, too. If I were young enough, I wouldn’t give up a chance at Ethan Forrest, even if it meant paying triple for everything.”

“Could we not talk about the chief?” Jenni asked, and then realized she’d probably revealed more than she meant to about the state of her thoughts.

Tactfully, no one pointed out that she wouldn’t mind if they were discussing, say, Beau Johnson’s romantic attributes. Or anyone else’s.

“Okay,” responded Karen. “Who has news to share?”

During the brief silence that followed, Gwen handed around a plate of cookies. At last Leah spoke. “I guess this is as good a time as any to make a confession.”

Karen paused with a gingersnap in one hand. “About a man?”