straight up. For the first time, I let my mind drift back to Dominic's face when he'd spoken to me. I wrinkled my nose. He'd smiled. I could have sworn he smiled.
But why? It had clearly cost him tremendous effort to speak. How could he have managed to smile? And again, why?
I sipped more margarita and tried to will my mind away from Dominic. Tried, once again, to take in my peaceful, much-loved room. I stared at the graceful curves of the moss green armchair in front of the woodstove. Blue's chair. Blue would be home soon.
My live-in lover. I smiled. In theory, Blue lived in his travel trailer, parked just beyond the vegetable garden. In practice, he lived with me.
Which was just fine. Blue and I had been living together a little over a year now, and I was quite happy with the arrangement. We each pursued our own lives, our own careers, and we came home to each other. I had never known it could be this good.
Sipping my drink, I sighed again. The last thing in the world I wanted interrupting my life was a police investigation in my backyard. But that was exactly what I had.
I picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. Detective Jeri Ward had given me her cell phone number last fall. I just hoped she hadn't changed it in the interim.
"Ward here." She answered on the second ring.
"Jeri, it's Gail, Gail McCarthy."
"Gail. Oh-ho." Something in her voice, something I couldn't place. Amusement, cynicism, sympathy?
"Have you heard?"
"Dominic, the horseshoer, was shot in your barn. Matt Johnson is investigating. Lucky you."
"Lucky me," I agreed. "I think Matt Johnson suspects I shot Dominic. He seems familiar, Matt Johnson. Should I know him?"
"He investigated Nicole Devereaux's murder, a couple of years ago."
"Oh." Now I remembered. I'd met Detective Johnson briefly when a friend of mine had been killed. I hadn't liked him much then, I recalled.
"He's no friend of yours; is that right?" I asked Jeri.
"That's right," she answered crisply. "Can't say more right now."
"Have you heard anything about Dominic?"
"He's dead, poor bastard. Died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital."
"Oh no." I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. Somehow I had never believed that Dominic would actually die. "Oh no," I said again.
"I'm afraid so." Jeri's voice was level-she knew Dominic; he shod her horse, too.
"That's terrible. Have you heard the story?"
"Parts of it. Look," Jeri said. "I can't talk now. Call me when I'm at home this weekend."
"Okay," I said. "Thanks, Jeri." I hung up the phone, staring straight ahead blindly. Dominic was dead. It changed everything. I had just assumed that he would live, spend time in the hospital, recover. Without really thinking about it, I'd believed that I came in time to save him.
But I hadn't. Dominic had died anyway. After saying those improbable words. Once again, I visualized his face. No mistake. I still thought he'd been trying to smile.
I shuddered. Smiling when he was about to die. Why? Why?
Finishing my margarita in one swallow, I got up and walked across the room to the kitchen. I opened the sleek stainless steel refrigerator and evaluated. Then I opened the freezer. Frozen lasagna it was.
I turned on the matching stainless steel oven and plunked the lasagna in. Headlights coming up the drive caught my eye. Familiar headlights.
I reached down the terra-cotta tile counter for the cocktail shaker. Blue was home.
THREE
How are you doing?" were the first words out of Blue's mouth.
I met his eyes across the room. "All right. But Dominic died. Do you want a drink?"
"I guess so. Gail, are you all right?"
"I'll have another," I said, pouring myself a second round.
Blue took a step toward me and accepted the cocktail glass from my outstretched hand. "Gail, are you all right?" he asked again. The little spotted dog at his heels wagged her tail.
"I'm fine. Frozen lasagna okay for dinner?"
"Sure." Blue stared at me with obvious worry. "Can you sit down and tell
But why? It had clearly cost him tremendous effort to speak. How could he have managed to smile? And again, why?
I sipped more margarita and tried to will my mind away from Dominic. Tried, once again, to take in my peaceful, much-loved room. I stared at the graceful curves of the moss green armchair in front of the woodstove. Blue's chair. Blue would be home soon.
My live-in lover. I smiled. In theory, Blue lived in his travel trailer, parked just beyond the vegetable garden. In practice, he lived with me.
Which was just fine. Blue and I had been living together a little over a year now, and I was quite happy with the arrangement. We each pursued our own lives, our own careers, and we came home to each other. I had never known it could be this good.
Sipping my drink, I sighed again. The last thing in the world I wanted interrupting my life was a police investigation in my backyard. But that was exactly what I had.
I picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. Detective Jeri Ward had given me her cell phone number last fall. I just hoped she hadn't changed it in the interim.
"Ward here." She answered on the second ring.
"Jeri, it's Gail, Gail McCarthy."
"Gail. Oh-ho." Something in her voice, something I couldn't place. Amusement, cynicism, sympathy?
"Have you heard?"
"Dominic, the horseshoer, was shot in your barn. Matt Johnson is investigating. Lucky you."
"Lucky me," I agreed. "I think Matt Johnson suspects I shot Dominic. He seems familiar, Matt Johnson. Should I know him?"
"He investigated Nicole Devereaux's murder, a couple of years ago."
"Oh." Now I remembered. I'd met Detective Johnson briefly when a friend of mine had been killed. I hadn't liked him much then, I recalled.
"He's no friend of yours; is that right?" I asked Jeri.
"That's right," she answered crisply. "Can't say more right now."
"Have you heard anything about Dominic?"
"He's dead, poor bastard. Died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital."
"Oh no." I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. Somehow I had never believed that Dominic would actually die. "Oh no," I said again.
"I'm afraid so." Jeri's voice was level-she knew Dominic; he shod her horse, too.
"That's terrible. Have you heard the story?"
"Parts of it. Look," Jeri said. "I can't talk now. Call me when I'm at home this weekend."
"Okay," I said. "Thanks, Jeri." I hung up the phone, staring straight ahead blindly. Dominic was dead. It changed everything. I had just assumed that he would live, spend time in the hospital, recover. Without really thinking about it, I'd believed that I came in time to save him.
But I hadn't. Dominic had died anyway. After saying those improbable words. Once again, I visualized his face. No mistake. I still thought he'd been trying to smile.
I shuddered. Smiling when he was about to die. Why? Why?
Finishing my margarita in one swallow, I got up and walked across the room to the kitchen. I opened the sleek stainless steel refrigerator and evaluated. Then I opened the freezer. Frozen lasagna it was.
I turned on the matching stainless steel oven and plunked the lasagna in. Headlights coming up the drive caught my eye. Familiar headlights.
I reached down the terra-cotta tile counter for the cocktail shaker. Blue was home.
THREE
How are you doing?" were the first words out of Blue's mouth.
I met his eyes across the room. "All right. But Dominic died. Do you want a drink?"
"I guess so. Gail, are you all right?"
"I'll have another," I said, pouring myself a second round.
Blue took a step toward me and accepted the cocktail glass from my outstretched hand. "Gail, are you all right?" he asked again. The little spotted dog at his heels wagged her tail.
"I'm fine. Frozen lasagna okay for dinner?"
"Sure." Blue stared at me with obvious worry. "Can you sit down and tell
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