The Lover. BEVERLY BARTON

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Where does Richie Lowery live?” Bernie posed this question to Stephanie’s parents.

      “As far as I know, he still lives in Hollywood,” Jay said. “You don’t think Richie…” He cleared his throat. “The boy was all right. There’s no way he would have hurt Stephie. He wasn’t the type.”

      “I understand,” Bernie said. “But it won’t hurt to question him.”

      As she continued speaking with the family, periodically checking her watch and wondering just how long it would take Jim and Charlie to do a thorough inspection of the house, she became more and more certain that Stephanie’s parents and husband didn’t know anything that could shed new light on the case. That is, other than the information about Richie Lowery, which Bernie’s instincts told her probably wouldn’t amount to anything. Not unless Kyle wasn’t telling her everything. But the guy seemed to be an open book.

      After running out of questions, Bernie let Ed take over and she sat back and listened. He talked to the family, reminisced about Stephanie and gave them the opportunity to relive happier days.

      The front door opened and Jim peered out onto the porch. His gaze connected with Bernie’s. He nodded for her to come to him. She eased up from her perch on the banisters and headed toward the door.

      “I believe Captain Norton and Agent Patterson are just about finished,” she said. “If y’all will excuse me, I’ll check with them and be right back.”

      When she walked into the living room, Jim closed the door behind her and said, “We found something interesting.”

      Bernie’s heart sank. Oh, please, God, don’t let there be any evidence against Kyle Preston. He seemed like such a good guy, a guy in love with his wife.

      “Charlie found the items in a box in a cedar chest in the second bedroom,” Jim said. “The box was tied with string and had been placed under several quilts.”

      “What was in the box?”

      “Come see for yourself. Charlie’s been really careful handling it.” Jim held out a pair of gloves to Bernie. She took them, slipped them on and then followed Jim down the hall and into the bedroom.

      “Did you tell her?” Charlie asked.

      Jim shook his head. “I thought she’d want to see them for herself.”

      Thomasina got another bottle of water out of the machine at Robyn’s Fitness Center before she left. She was warm and sweaty and thirsty, and all she wanted to do was cool off before driving over to the Pig, which was what everyone called their local Piggly Wiggly supermarket, to pick up the items on the grocery list her mother gave her before she left Verona this morning. On the off chance that Brandon Kelley might be doing his shopping this afternoon, Thomasina had reapplied her makeup before leaving Robyn’s. She knew she was acting like a silly teenager with a crush, but she couldn’t help it. She had even dreamed about Brandon last night. Sigh, sigh. Be still my heart.

      Hitting the automatic unlock on her keyless entry pad, Thomasina headed straight for her car parked in the back lot behind the fitness center. As she approached, she noticed something hanging on the handle of the driver’s door. An advertisement of some sort? Probably. But it was rather large for a flyer.

      Stopping and staring when she reached her car, she realized that someone had tied a white plastic bag to the door handle. Her heartbeat accelerated. Thomasina set her unopened bottle of water on the hood of her car, then hesitantly yet expectantly reached out, untied the knot holding the bag in place and grasped it. Standing there in the parking lot, in the noonday July sun, she peeked inside, but all she could make out was a white box and a manila envelope.

      She opened the car door, got in and after closing the door and starting the engine to get the air-conditioning running, reached inside the bag and pulled out the note. With trembling fingers, she removed the message from the envelope and unfolded the note.

      Please accept this small token of my affection. Pearls for a lovely lady.

      Thomasina gasped silently. Pearls?

      She reached into the bag again and withdrew the small, white rectangular box. She felt like a kid on Christmas morning. After removing the lid, she stared at the eighteen-inch string of pearls nestled on a bed of white cotton. Round and creamy white, with a small gold catch, the pearls weren’t real. They couldn’t be. But they were beautiful all the same. And such a sweet gift. A gift from a very romantic man.

       A gift from Brandon?

      She laid the box and the note on the passenger seat, then retrieved the manila envelope and tossed the bag alongside the box.

       What could this be?

      After opening the sealed envelope, she removed the contents. A single page from an artist’s sketch pad. Her heart skipped a beat. Brandon was the art director at the junior college. She turned the paper over and gasped aloud. It was a charcoal sketch of her face. This was the work of a true artist.

      Brandon Kelley was that true artist. He was her secret admirer. But why was he courting her in such an old-fashioned, secretive manner? Why didn’t he just come right out and ask her for a date?

      Because Brandon isn’t like other men, she told herself. He’s older, more experienced, worldly wise and undoubtedly one of the last of a dying breed—a romantic gentleman.

      She reached over, lifted the pearls from the box and fingered them lovingly. She would wear them to school on Monday to show him that she liked his gift.

      Bubbling with excitement and giddy with expectations, Thomasina attached her seatbelt, shifted into reverse and began humming to herself as she backed up and headed out to the street.

      * * *

      Bernie handled the items very carefully, taking her time to study the details as Charlie Patterson gave the pieces to her, one at a time. First were notes written in heavy black ink on white note cards, the kind you could buy just about any place that sold stationery. Each note was succinct, flattering to the receiver and eerily romantic.

      “Kyle Preston told me that one of Stephanie’s old boyfriends sent her some notes and gifts. These must be the notes.” But something wasn’t quite right about these things. The notes were unsigned, and the wording didn’t seem to be something a former lover would write. No, her guess would be the messages were sent from a would-be lover.

      “Why didn’t he mention these notes before?” Jim asked.

      “He’d forgotten about them, didn’t think they were important.”

      “I can’t believe a husband could have forgotten about these things,” Charlie said. “Especially not the sketches.”

      “What sketches?” Bernie asked. “Kyle didn’t say anything about sketches.”

      “Then either he’s lying or Stephanie didn’t share all her little gifts with her husband.” Jim pointed to the thin stack of papers Charlie held in his glove-covered hand.

      “Let me see those.” Bernie held out her hand and accepted the items Charlie gave her.

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