By the time Lynn was satisfied she’d gotten everything out of me she could get, I was heartily sorry I’d spoken to Idella at the restaurant. Sometimes good impulses backfire.

  “Go talk to Donnie Greenhouse,” I said irritably. “He was the one who upset her, not me.”

  “Oh, we will,” Lynn assured me. “In fact, someone’s talking to him right now.”

  But Donnie Greenhouse, who’d let Tonia Lee stomp on him for so long, would not yield an inch to the police. He called my mother while I was still in her office and told her triumphantly he hadn’t given Paul Allison the time of day.

  “He told Paul that no matter what Roe Teagarden said Idella told her, he and Idella had discussed nothing more than business and Tonia Lee’s funeral.” My mother’s famous eyebrows were arched at their most skeptical.

  “He might as well wear a sign that says ‘Please Kill Me. I Know Too Much,’ ” I said.

  “Donnie doesn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain, but I didn’t think he was this dumb,” Mother said. “And why he’s doing it, instead of telling the police all he knows, I cannot fathom.”

  “He wants to avenge Tonia Lee himself?”

  “God knows why. Everyone knows she made his life hell on wheels.”

  “Maybe he always loved her.” Mother and I pondered that separately.

  “I personally don’t think a rational person with a sense of self-preservation could continue to love under such a stream of abuse as that,” my mother said.

  I wondered if she was right. “So Donnie’s not rational and has no sense of self-preservation,” I said. “And what about Idella? Evidently the call she got in her office was from someone she suspected might be the killer. And yet she apparently agreed to meet this person in an empty house. Doesn’t that sound like she loved whoever it was?”

  “I just don’t love that way,” said Mother finally. “I loved your father until he was unfaithful.” This was the first time she’d ever said one word to me about her marriage with my father. “I loved him, in my opinion, very deeply. But when he hurt me so much, and things weren’t going well otherwise, it just killed the love. How can you keep on loving when someone lies to you?” She really could not understand it.

  I didn’t know, with my limited experience, if my mother just had an extraordinarily strong sense of self-preservation, or if the world was full of irrational people.

  “It seems from what I’ve read, and observed,” I said hesitantly, “that lots of people aren’t that way. They keep on loving, no matter what the hurt or cost.”

  “No self-respect. That’s what I believe,” my mother said crisply. She stared out her window for a moment, at the bare branches of the oak tree outside, which made a bleak abstract pattern against the gray sky. “Poor Idella,” she said, and a tear oozed down her cheek. “She was worth ten Tonia Lees, and she had children. She’d done so much for herself since her husband left her. I’d gotten pretty fond of her without ever getting really close to her.” Mother looked back at me. Our eyes met. “She must have been so frightened.” Then she shook herself. “I’ll have Eileen call Emily Kaye to find out if Idella’d actually gotten over there with your counteroffer, honey. The police should let us have the papers in her car, soon. We can get on with the house sale, with Eileen or me taking Idella’s part. I’ll let you know.”

  I hadn’t been worried about it at all. “Thanks,” I said, trying to look relieved. “I think I’ll go home now.” But I turned at her office door to say, “You know, I’ll bet money that Donnie doesn’t really know anything at all. If he does get killed, it’ll be over absolutely nothing.”

  I was really glad I hadn’t agreed to meet Martin tonight. I needed a little time to get over this horror. Driving home, I felt the impulse to call him nonetheless. But I shook my head. No telling what he was doing. Still trying to inspire Pan-Am Agra executives, eating supper with a client, working in his motel room on important papers. I hated him to find out how lonely I was, so soon.

  I kept thinking about Idella, her children, her death from love.

  Chapter Nine

  The NEXT MORNING my best friend, Amina Day-now Amina Day Price-called me. I’d just pulled on my blue jeans, and I lay across the bed on my stomach to grab the phone.

  “Hi, it’s me!”

  “Amina,” I said happily, feeling my mouth break into a smile, “how are you?”

  “Honey, I’m pregnant!”

  “Ohmigod!”

  “Yes! Really, really. The ring in the tube turned the right color this morning, and I lost my breakfast, too. So I’m home lying down.”

  “Amina, I can’t believe it. What does Hugh say?”

  “He’s just thrilled. He’s ready to go out now and buy a car seat and a crib. I told him he better wait a while, my mother always told me it was bad luck to start getting ready too soon.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “No, I have an appointment for next week with the obstetrician all the wives of Hugh’s partners go to.”

  Hugh is an up-and-coming lawyer in Houston.

  “I’m so glad for you,” I told her honestly.

  We talked for a while. Or, rather, I listened while Amina talked to me about the baby and what she wanted and didn’t want for this exceptional infant.

  “So what’s new with you?” she asked finally.

  “Well… I’m seeing someone.”

  “Not the minister?”

  “No, not anymore. This man-Martin-he’s the new plant manager at Pan-Am Agra.”

  “Wo-wo. How old is he?”

  “Older.”

  “Rich?”

  “Well-to-do.”

  “Of course, that doesn’t make any difference anymore, since you inherited all that loot.”

  “No, but it’s nice anyway. He likes having money.”

  “Tell me all!”

  “Well, his name is Martin Bartell, he’s forty-five, he has white hair but his eyebrows are black…”

  “Sexy!”

  “Yes, very… he’s tough, strong, intelligent, and… ruthless. You wouldn’t want to try to bullshit him.”

  “These are not Boy Scout attributes.”

  “You know, you’re right,” I said thoughtfully. “He’s definitely not a Boy Scout type. More of a street fighter.”

  “I hope he’s not too tough for you.”

  “No matter what he is,” I confessed, “this is the worst I’ve ever had it. I’m scared to death. I couldn’t stay away from him if he were on fire.”

  “Oh, wow. You do have it bad. I hope he’s worthy of this. This sounds like a ‘love at first sight’ thing.”

  “Yes, the first time I’ve ever experienced it. And, I hope, the last. It’s awful.”

  “I’ve never had it like that,” Amina said. “So what else is happening?” It wasn’t like Amina to change the subject. Could she be a bit envious?

  But I filled her in on Tonia Lee’s murder and the resultant confusion. Then I told her about Susu Hunter’s husband and his strange secret persona as the House Hunter.

  “Oh, I’m like that to a lesser extent,” Amina said instantly. “It’s not so weird.”

  “You just like to look at houses?”

  “Sure, don’t you? I get a tingle at the base of my spine when I walk into a house that’s not mine, that I can look at all I want. It’s like stepping into someone else’s life for a while. You can open the closets, and find out what they pay for electricity, and how many clothes they have, and how clean their furniture is… I have had the best time since Hugh and I started looking for a house. I wish I could look at houses all the time. In fact, I thought about becoming a realtor instead of a legal secretary until I realized I’d have to get out in all kinds of weather and deal with jerks who didn’t know what they wanted… you know.”

  “That’s interesting, Amina,” I said, and meant it.

  “Of course, now we’re looking at bigger houses,” she added, and we were back on her favorite topic of the moment.

  By the time we hung up, I’d agreed to be the baby’s godmother and Amina had urged me to hurry and marry Martin if we were going to anyway, so she could be a matron of honor before her stomach got too big.

  I just laughed and said good-bye. It made me nervous to think of marriage and Martin in the same sentence, as if it were a jinx. I finished dressing, trying not to feel sorry for myself, only glad for Amina and Hugh.

  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.”

  “Okay,” I said finally, with misgivings.

  Our salads arrived and we began eating, very conscious of each other.

  “Martin, you’ll have to tell me about your company,” I said. “I have only the vaguest idea of what Pan-Am Agra does.”

  “We arrange for the exchange of good used farm machinery for the produce from some of the South American countries,” he explained. “Also, we manufacture some agricultural goods and food using raw materials from North and South America, which is what we do at the plant here. And we own land in South America where we’re trying to use North American farming methods to produce better yields. Those are the main things Pan-Am Agra does, though there are a few other things, too.”

  “What kind of products does Pan-Am Agra make?”

  “Some fruit blends, some products containing coffee, some fertilizer.”

  “Do you have to travel to South America much?”

  “When I was at company headquarters in Chicago, I had to go often, at least once every month. Now I won’t fly down as much. But I will have to visit the other plants.”

  “Is the government very much involved in what you do?”

  “As a regulatory agency, yes, too much so. They’re forever thinking we’re smuggling drugs in or weapons out, knowingly or unknowingly, and our shipments are almost always searched.”

  I thought of searching fertilizer, or the raw materials thereof, and wrinkled my nose.

  “Exactly,” Martin said.

  “So what is a pirate like you doing in an agricultural company?”