Was this jealousy? If so, it wasn’t in his tone, which was reflective, even clinical. There was no reason to duck the question, but my own inclination toward privacy can behave without reason.
“Interested in me?” I asked. “How would I know?”
Ford cleans his glasses whenever he needs a few moments to think or to regroup. Wire-rimmed glasses. He cleaned them now. When he was done, his clinical tone was newly visible in his eyes.
Right away, I knew I’d made a mistake. I just lied to you, that’s what I should have said. But I didn’t. Instead, I told myself, It’s such a minor thing, then sat there and watched my new lover smile his understanding. “The guy’s a fool if he’s not interested in you,” Ford said. “Either way, I’m glad you’re in touch-like a safety net, just in case. The thing is, Hannah”-Ford stood-“that phone call I got at two a.m. I’m debating on whether to leave for Venezuela tonight or try to postpone.”
It caused me to almost spill my coffee. “Where?” He hadn’t mentioned a trip, let alone a trip to another country.
Ford held out his hand, meaning he wanted to talk inside. “The call was about a consulting job-out of the blue. They need me right away. I’d like you to stay here, but not just to look after the place-because it’s safer.”
I realized he was waiting to help me to my feet. It was a gentlemanly gesture that didn’t fit a lover who, without warning, packs up and flies off to South America. I took his hand anyway, unsure whether to fall into his arms or wait for an explanation. “Sorry, I’m flustered,” I said. “Worst-case scenario, I figured it was one of your old girlfriends, or that your dog was delayed, or… I don’t know what I thought. But a new job?”
Ford’s smile was sympathetic, but the careful, clinical look had not left his eyes. “I almost forgot about the dog,” he said, meaning the retriever he had bought and who was scheduled to arrive on Thursday. Then he reassured me by wrapping an arm over my shoulder. “I’ll only be gone a week, ten days at the most. Before I leave, though, I want to make sure you’re not in danger. Mind if I have someone I know call Joel Ransler? Or one of the detectives? Depending on where they find Mrs. Helms, and from what you told me, I’m not convinced it was a random attacker.” When I didn’t reply immediately, he added, “Is that a problem?”
I loved the warmth of his closeness and was relieved to hear he wouldn’t be gone long, but I also didn’t want Ford, a biologist, to invite danger-or even ridicule-by poking his nose into business that belonged to law enforcement professionals.
I pulled away. “Marion, I’ve never had any trouble taking care of myself. I’m more worried about your health. The doctor said to avoid anything stressful. And didn’t I read about some kind of war going on in Venezuela?” Which was another lie, but a white lie. The fighting I’d read about was somewhere in the mountains of South America, and my geography was rusty.
“A war, huh?” Ford replied, which told me it was the first he had heard of it. His eyes hadn’t left mine, but he looked away, as if deciding something. “I want to trust you, Hannah.”
“You can!” I said.
The man nodded, his glasses glinting momentarily before his sharp eyes returned. “Let’s go into the lab. We need to go over a few things.”
“You can tell me anything,” I said, and came very close to adding, I might be in love with you. Rather than risk it, I hugged him, hoping he would feel what I was feeling. Maybe he did, from the way he kissed me, yet I had a sudden, nagging fear there was now something wrong between us.
The next morning, a Sunday, I awoke in my lover’s bed and was soon aware of a pleasant but peculiar odor on his hands when he returned from the lab. Just a hint of a chemical, or some solvent, that soap could not wash away. A familiar odor to me, but it didn’t belong in the laboratory of a marine biologist-Ford and I had been workout companions before we became lovers, so I would have known.
Hoppe’s Gun Oil, I finally realized, an almost fruity scent. My nose would soon track the memory to my late Uncle Jake’s office, and then his holster, which he had carried as a Tampa detective. A bullet had retired Jake to fishing and running a small private investigation agency, but he loved to shoot and often took me along as his student.
Why had a biologist, who’d never mentioned owning a weapon, used gun solvent?
By then, it was Sunday night and too late to ask. Marion Ford was on a plane to Caracas.
9
When Joel Ransler parked his Audi near the dock on Monday morning and walked toward my boat, he was alone, which was unexpected, but then I saw his grave expression and knew the reason. They had found Rosanna Helms.
“Bad news?” I asked, wiping my hands on a towel.
My instincts were correct. Yesterday at sunset, deputies had noticed vultures circling a few hundred yards from the house. They were unaware that a footpath led to the area, so they had cut through the mangroves, using lights when it got too dark to work. There was a circular clearing there, a small pond in the middle-the beginning of a sinkhole. The woman was found facedown in water that was just deep enough to float her body.
“No sign of a struggle,” Ransler said, “and no obvious injuries. The medical examiner thinks she’s been dead since Thursday, but that’s preliminary.”
“That’s awful,” I said, getting to my feet. Loretta, of course, had heard Ransler’s car and was trying to eavesdrop from the porch. She would soon have to be told about her friend, but the job required gentleness and planning. Mrs. Terwilliger was in the kitchen, making their breakfast, so now was not the time.
I got Joel’s attention and nodded toward the house. He confirmed his understanding by taking a seat close to my skiff before explaining, “The only reason I mention the condition of the body is because the media might go into detail. You should be prepared. It’s not… nice, the way she died, so the less your mother knows, the better.”
“Are you sure Mrs. Helms wasn’t running from someone?” I asked, meaning a crazy person with an axe.
“She’d already been dead for at least a day when you were attacked,” the prosecutor reminded me. “I suppose the perp could’ve come back to rob the place. But why?” He thought about it, then shook his head. “No… what happened is, I think you surprised someone in the middle of a burglary. He-or she-wouldn’t have used an axe on the door if they knew someone was inside. That bothered me from the start.”
An insane killer might, I thought but stuck to reason, asking, “Then why was he wearing a mask?”
“Whoever it was probably came by boat-the dock’s only fifty, a hundred yards from the house. And you said yourself sun masks are popular with fishermen. The perp probably had it stuck in his pocket and put it on when he heard you drive up. Maybe the sound of your truck brought the woman’s dogs on the run, too. Those animals were half starved, apparently.”
Ransler paused and tapped a knuckle at his teeth, thinking about it before adding, “What he did to that dog, though, that does bother me. And what he might have done to you. Whoever the person is, I think he’s got a screw loose.”
“Anyone could have wandered into that house and surprised him,” I said, wanting to believe it.
Ransler nodded. “Unless the medical examiner says different, we think Mrs. Helms wandered off and got lost. That’s usually the case when an elderly person goes missing. It gets dark, they panic, then just sort of give up and die. Or maybe she got so thirsty, she tried to drink from the pond.”