I found myself wondering if Jimmy Hunter had been Idella’s lover. It would make perfect sense, given his househunting aberration, for him to pick a realtor as a lover. But how would that tie in with the things missing from houses listed with local realtors? Surely Jimmy hadn’t been lifting them while he toured the houses? He just couldn’t have, not without a realtor noticing. And it wasn’t always Idella who’d shown him around. Hadn’t someone at the meeting at Select Realty said the Greenhouses had always made sure Tonia Lee escorted him? Had something in Tonia Lee’s sharp nature punctured the balloon of Jimmy’s fantasy life as a house hunter, something so upsetting he’d killed her for it?
Jimmy Hunter drove a blue Ford Escort, and so had Idella. Maybe it had been Jimmy’s car Donnie Greenhouse had seen Wednesday night. Come to think of it, what had Donnie been doing out himself? It must have been after the presumed time of Tonia Lee’s death, which must have taken place before the neighbors to the rear of the Anderton place had noticed her car had gone. About the time of Tonia Lee’s death, Jimmy had been parked outside the Tae Kwon Doe studio waiting for his son.
I shook my head at myself while I peered in the mirror applying my makeup. I was just getting confused. I wasn’t going to speculate about depressing things anymore. I was going shopping to buy a dress to wear tonight. I was going to find out if Emily Kaye had accepted my counteroffer on the house on Honor. It would be nice and tidy to have that little chapter of my life closed, Jane’s house settled and all my things ready to put into a home I owned. And I thought of the Julius house again: the sun through the windows, the warm kitchen, the porch.
“You’d like it,” I told Madeleine, who was squinting at me doubtfully in the one pool of sunshine in my bedroom. She rolled on her back to invite me to tickle her stomach, and I obliged. We went downstairs together to change her water and fill her food bowl.
I called Mother’s office before I set out for my petite dress shop in Atlanta. Eileen said that the police had given her the contract for my house, signed by Emily Kaye. It had been in Idella’s car. The changes I had stipulated had been penciled in, and Emily herself had called that morning after she heard the news of Idella’s death, to confirm that she had agreed to the price and to my wanting the washer and dryer. So on my way out of town, I stopped by the office and signed the contract, too. And Jane’s house was on its way to becoming Emily Kaye’s house, having never really been my house at all.
I was willing to drive all the way into the city instead of going to Great Day, Amina’s mom’s store, because I wanted something that Amina called a “Later, Baby” dress. Amina had always been a dating specialist, one who picked her clothes with as much care as she picked her makeup. Your clothes always said something to your date, she claimed, and she had had such a long and varied and successful dating career that I figured she knew what she was talking about.
“It has to be modest enough to where you could see your mom while you were in it without turning red,” she had advised. “But it has to kind of growl to your date, ‘Later, baby!’ ”
It was a slow day at the petite shop, Short ‘n Sweet (hey, I didn’t name it), and the saleswoman who’d helped me before was glad to see me. I was too embarrassed to spell out what I wanted, but I tracked it down eventually. It was a sweater dress, soft and beige and shapeless but clingy, with a big cowl collar-and you wore it almost off the shoulders. I had to buy a strapless bra to go under it, and then big gold earrings, and then some shoes, so I made the saleswoman’s afternoon a happy one. Quite a switch for someone who had worn her college and high school clothes for ten years.
I ate lunch in the city and visited my favorite bookstore, so I came home to Lawrenceton fairly laden down with good things.
I tuned in to the local radio station as I left the interstate. It was time for the news. “Police are questioning a suspect in the murder of a Lawrenceton realtor,” said the newswoman chattily. “Today a prominent local businessman was taken in for questioning regarding the death of Tonia Lee Greenhouse, who was found strangled in an empty home last week. Though police would not comment, an unnamed source says police will also question James Hunter in connection with the death of Idella Yates, whose body was found yesterday.”
I sucked in my breath. Jimmy Hunter. Poor Susu! Poor kids! I wondered what new evidence Lynn had uncovered that had led to Jimmy’s being taken to the police station. I thought perhaps the police had found some of the stolen things in Jimmy’s possession. Or maybe… but it was no use speculating.
Martin was ten minutes early.
He took in the dress appreciatively.
“I just have to brush my hair,” I said, my hands extended to hold him off.
“Let me,” he suggested, and I could feel a blush that began at my toes.
“We’ll never get there if I do,” I said with a smile, and scampered up the stairs before he could grab me.
“One kiss,” he said as I came back down minutes later. He and Madeleine had been regarding one another warily.
“One,” I said strictly.
It was very sweet at first, but then it began to steam up.
“My glasses are fogging,” I murmured.
He laughed. “Okay, we’ll go.”
But it wasn’t until a few minutes later that we got into his car. It didn’t take long to get to the Carriage House, which had actually formerly been what its name implied. It was the only fancy restaurant in Lawrenceton, and had very good food and service. It was small, dark, and expensive, with a large added-on room at the back where local groups held dinners. We were shown a corner table and sat side by side on the L-shaped banquette.
Being so close to Martin was seriously interfering with my paying attention to anything else, but I was determined to get through a normal-date evening with him. We talked about what wine to order, and I selected my food; and he talked to the waiter, and the wine arrived.
“Jimmy Hunter’s being questioned about the death of the woman whose body we found,” I told him.
“I heard someone was. Do you know the man?”
So I told Martin about Jimmy and Susu, and Jimmy’s little quirk.
“He likes to look at houses with female realtors? That’s pretty-kinky.”
“But he’s never done anything to anybody,” I pointed out fairly. “And frankly, I hope the police have got something more on him than that, as I assume they must, because I find it very hard to believe that Jimmy did it.” I hadn’t known I felt that way until it came out of my mouth. “And they haven’t charged him in Tonia Lee’s murder, or Idella’s, and surely the same person killed them both.”
But Martin hadn’t heard about my finding Idella’s body, and I had to tell him now, his light brown eyes fixed on my face.
“I wish you had called me when you were upset,” he said. I had an uneasy feeling that he might be a little angry with me.
“I thought about you. Of course. It’s just that-really-for all our emotions for each other, we really don’t know each other that well. And you’re the plant manager, you have all kinds of duties and responsibilities that I don’t know anything about, Martin. Even on Sunday night, I just felt very hesitant about interrupting you.”
I had been able to picture all too clearly his exasperated face as he turned away from some important papers to answer a call from his one-night flame.
“Listen,” he said intently. “Don’t. We haven’t learned a lot about each other, but this is not just a bed thing. I hope. On my part, anyway, and I think for you, too.”
I didn’t know, yet.
He touched my hair. “If you need me, I’ll come. That’s all there is to it. We have time to get to know each other. But if anything bothers you or upsets you, you call me.”