Jenna Ryan

Dream Weaver


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      How busy could one of two deputies be in a town with less than fifteen hundred year-round residents and the tourist traffic down to boaters, backpackers and fifty-five-plus couples?

      “I’m sure he’ll get some time off soon.”

      “When he does, you two should go bowling, or head over to the grill for a game of pool.” Eileen set a hand on her hip. “You’re so practical, the pair of you. All I want is one grandchild before I retire, and what does Zack do? He dates a tourist for two weeks, then drives her down to O’Hare and says goodbye. Doesn’t get her address, home or e-mail. I bet he never even thought to ask for her phone number.”

      “Maybe she wasn’t the right one.” They were almost at the door. “Move, Shannon,” he said to his curious Irish setter. “Eileen wants to leave.”

      The big dog barked and began sniffing the woman’s leg. She halted and rolled her eyes. “Doggie treats! I never gave them a thought. I’ll run some out here first thing tomorrow morning.”

      “Shannon likes soda crackers. She can snack on those instead.”

      “Crackers? My God, Johnny Grand, did you treat your wife like this?”

      Now it was Johnny’s turn to stare. “Excuse me?”

      She strengthened her grip on her shoulder strap. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I just can’t help wondering why a couple as lovely as you and Meliana broke apart. Your wife’s a skilled surgeon, and yet she bandaged more knees and treated more stings and bites whenever she came up here than Dr. Fell—rest his soul—did in all his time on the lake. The woman’s an angel.”

      Wanna bet? Johnny thought with equal parts humor and regret. “She has her moments,” he agreed.

      “How did you meet?”

      Oh, no, she was settling in. “It’s a long story, really long. I’ll tell you about it another time. Right now…” The phone rang behind him.

      “I’m expecting a call,” he lied. “An important one.”

      She patted his arm. “You take it, then, and I’ll let myself out.”

      “Walk her to her car,” Johnny ordered Shannon in a low voice. He picked up. “Yeah, Grand here.”

      “I know you’re there, Grand, but you should be here.”

      Johnny waited until Eileen was out of earshot before turning away. “Julie? Why the hell are you calling me at—” he squinted at the burled wall clock that had come with the house “—eight at night?”

      “Your wife got a rose.”

      He watched as Eileen’s ’81 Taurus sedan rolled off. “What?”

      “Actually, she’s gotten five roses in four weeks. Long stemmed, white, from a—ha-ha—secret admirer. And those weren’t funny ha-ha’s.”

      Johnny sat on the arm of the sofa. “What were they?”

      “Worried. I take it your good buddy Chris didn’t call?”

      “About roses? No.”

      “Okay, here’s the deal. Someone tried to break in to your—her town house today around five. We thought the alarm scared the guy off. Everything looked okay inside. But later, after we’d left, Mel found a white rose in her lingerie drawer. It isn’t the first one she’s received. It is the first one that’s really violated her space. The other four didn’t involve a break-in. Also…” She took a breath and Johnny heard the faint shudder beneath it. “Some of her lingerie’s missing. She figures five or six pieces. One of them is that bustier thing she wore under her wedding dress—you know, the strapless bra slash corset slash garter belt number.”

      Johnny swore. “Did she call you?”

      “Yeah, but only this time. She didn’t mention the other four flowers until today. Blackburn was with her when she opened the drawer, but I figured—and I was right—he’d be as likely to contact you as cut off his foot.”

      Johnny searched the low tables for his car keys. “What are you doing about it?”

      “There’s not much we can do. We dusted for prints, but you know as well as I do we won’t find anything. We’ll also talk to her neighbors. So far, though, it seems like you bought into a complex where people mind their own business. Are you coming down?”

      “Yeah.” He checked under the sofa cushions for the keys. “Don’t tell Mel, okay?”

      “You know, I really hate it when people say that to me. She’s my friend, Johnny. She kept me from getting hysterical when I thought my mother was having a heart attack. Then she very calmly ran the tests and removed her gall bladder. I’ll give you two hours before I blab.”

      “You’re all heart, Jules.”

      He spotted his keys in a ceramic bowl beside the door, grabbed them along with his jacket and whistled for Shannon. “Do me another favor, okay?”

      “What is it?”

      “Ask Mel if she’s gotten anything else with those roses.”

      IT WAS NINE O’CLOCK when Julie reappeared at her door. Meliana greeted her with a canny “You called him, didn’t you?”

      Julie reddened just enough for her to see. “You can’t possibly know that.”

      “Yeah, right, because I don’t know you at all, do I? We only got arrested together in Mindanao and had to spend ten days in a sinkless hellhole shouting at anyone who’d listen to us that, no, we weren’t soliciting and we certainly hadn’t been using the act as a cover to deal drugs.”

      “That’s what you get for carrying white powder in your purse.”

      “It was a free sample of Oscar after-bath.”

      “Which we couldn’t make them understand, because they didn’t bother to run any tests and we didn’t speak the language—which I thought you said you did.”

      “I speak Hawaiian, Julie. That’s a big linguistic step from the Philippines.” Because she really wasn’t annoyed, Meliana let the door swing open. “Is he coming down?”

      “Unless he forgets to gas up. Always a possibility.”

      “Hey, he’s my husband—I’ll make the nasty cracks.” Linking her fingers loosely behind her back, she watched her friend stride along the short corridor, pause, then glance from side to side. “Chris isn’t here, Julie. I sent him out with patrolman Dick—”

      “Dirk.”

      Meliana smiled. “They’re talking to Mrs. Feldman. She’s the only bona fide snoop in the area.”

      “Everyone I know lives with curtain twitchers. What makes your neighbors so special?”

      “Not special, professional. Most of the people around here don’t get home until six or later.”

      “No latchkey kids?”

      “Busy on their computers. Chris made the rounds, Jules. No one saw a thing.”

      “Mmm, well, as I see it, there wasn’t enough time for the guy to have hauled butt up to your bedroom, planted the rose, swiped your lacies and hightailed it back out before we got here. That means he either did the deed while you were home and occupied, in which case he’d have had fairly free access, or he knows your security code.”

      “Which he rearmed, then set off on the way out?”

      Julie started for the stairs. “He stole your underwear, Mel. You can’t expect rational behavior.” She glanced up. “Is that thunder?”

      “There’s a storm on the lake. Perfect backdrop for a murder mystery.”

      “You need to date again,”