Marty shook her head and stepped back. "Uh, no. Sorry, I've just got a lot of things on my mind." She turned on her heel and hurried from the room.
After speaking with Tom, Angie crossed into the kitchen where she punched the button on the controls that opened the gate. She dashed up the stairs to freshen her face and hair. She called to Marty. "Mr. Hoffman is on his way. I've already opened the gate."
A dustcloth in her hand, Marty poked her head out of the study. "I'll put on some fresh coffee." Out of the corner of her eye, Angie saw a blur as Marty hurried into the kitchen.
Marty quickly put on the fresh pot, glanced up the stairwell, then went into the breakfast nook where the mail still lay strewn across the table. She glanced nervously over her shoulder while slipping the small white envelope into her apron pocket, then shuffled the rest of the mail around on the table.
Within minutes, Tom Hoffman's dark-blue Buick crested the hill. Angie led him into the study, followed by Marty carrying a tray with a carafe of coffee and two mugs, which she placed on the large oak coffee table. After Marty left the room, Angie sensed Tom's uneasiness and her stomach churned as she sat down in the big leather chair and watched him pull a folded white sheet of paper from his pocket. She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands clenched tightly together.
He stood looking down at her, his expression solemn. "Maybe you should have Marty stay."
Fear filled her. "No, Tom. Whatever it is you have to tell me, I'll be able to handle it."
He sat down on the couch opposite her and cleared his throat. "I received this preliminary report from the coroner's today. Do you want me to read it to you or do you want to read it in private?"
She felt the blood leaving her face. "No, you go ahead."
After he finished, he placed the paper on the coffee table. "This is the hardest thing in the world for me to say, Angie. Bud's dead."
She stood, placing both hands over her ears. The room spun as Tom's voice echoed through the air. "No! No! It can't be. It wasn't him." Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Tom grabbed her before she fell, and called out. "Marty, get in here. I need you at once."
Marty dashed into the room and helped Tom get Angie situated on the couch. "I'll call Dr. Parker." She turned to leave the room, but Angie grabbed her hand.
"No. I'm going to be all right," she sobbed. "Just give me a few minutes."
Tom stood next to Marty as Angie collected herself, dabbing her eyes and smoothing back her hair. She glanced up at them. "I think I knew all along." Her voice caught. "I just didn't want to admit it."
Marty knelt beside her, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, Mrs. Nevers, I'm so sorry."
Leaving them in privacy, Tom went to the kitchen as the two women embraced. He rummaged the cabinet until he found another coffee mug and poured himself some coffee from the urn. He pulled his cigar from his breast pocket and started to step outside just as Marty came into the kitchen wiping her cheeks.
"Mrs. Nevers wants to see you."
He pushed the cigar back into his pocket and hurried into the study where he sat down beside Angie.
She held the report in trembling hands. "Tom, the coroner said it would take a while to find the cause of death."
"Yes, that's true."
She ducked her head and whispered. "What do they mean? Didn't he just burn up?"
"It appears that way. But they will check to make sure."
Angie stared at him wide-eyed. "You think there could have been foul play?"
Not meeting her stare, he stood and turned away. "Anything's possible."
"Tom, there's something wrong about this. Bud knew that road like the back of his hand. That's why I felt it couldn't have been him inside that car."
Rubbing the back of his neck, he sat in the chair opposite her. "Angie, I don't know what to think. If he'd been drinking, his judgment could have been impaired."
She shook her head. "I've never known Bud to drink and drive."
He raised his hands palms up. "I don't know. We'll have to wait for the coroner's final report."
Marty brought in another hot carafe of coffee.
Angie's knuckles turned white as she clasped her fingers around the cup. She waited until Marty left the room, then glanced at Tom. "I want you to be honest with me."
He took a sip of the hot brew, then blew across the cup. "Okay."
"What are the chances that Bud was murdered?"
Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his jacket. "Why would anyone want to murder him?"
Her gaze met his. "There's one thing I didn't tell you, because I wanted to speak to Ken first."
His interest piqued, he leaned forward. "What's that?"
"At our anniversary party, a young woman came to our door, apologized for being late and asked for Bud. I'd never seen her before in my life and knew she hadn't been invited."
"So, what did you do?
"I asked her name, then had her stand inside the door while I got Bud."
"Did he know her?"
"He seemed taken aback when I mentioned her name was Melinda. He hurried to the door and took her out onto the porch. When he didn't come back inside for several minutes, I went outside and found him standing alone, staring into the darkness. I asked where she'd gone and he told me she'd left."
"He didn't give you some hint of what she wanted?"
Angie shook her head. "He hustled me back in the house to take care of the guests. Then the next day, the school bus accident happened and the whole week turned chaotic." She sucked in her breath. "When I noticed his changed attitude, I decided to talk to him about her the following Saturday."
Tom glanced up at her. "Melinda who?"
"She didn't give me her last name."
"You talked to Ken?"
"Yes, but he didn't know her either."
He took a small notebook from his pocket. "Give me a description."
"Beautiful, early twenties. Long blond hair, body like a goddess and the most unusual green eyes I've ever seen. And I think they were real. Not contacts. They were so piercing, they sent shivers down my spine."
Tom's forehead wrinkled in thought. "Interesting. And you haven't seen or heard from her since?"
"No, but Bud's mood changed drastically and he seemed agitated all week."
"Do you think the interval between the time he left the golf course and the accident had something to do with this woman, or do you think it might have involved the work problems you mentioned?"
Angie picked up her cup, but trembled so badly she had to hold it with both hands. "I wish I knew the answer to that one. It's hard to know what might have been the cause of his frustration."
"Do you think Bud was suicidal?"
She shot a look at him. "Dear God, no. He loved living too much to take his own life."
Tom finished his coffee, folded the report and stuck it back into his pocket. "I'd like to think this was an accident, but some of the things you've said raise doubts in my mind. I'd like permission to go through Bud's files at work."