Chapter 21
Parker answered the door. For several moments he looked at her blankly. Finally he said, “Did you forget something?”
“Very cute.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to ask me in?”
He hesitated as though thinking it over, then pushed his chair backward into the foyer, giving her room to step inside. “Where’s Mike?”
“He went to the mainland for groceries, toilet paper, stuff like that.”
“And left you here alone?”
“I’m not helpless,” he said in what amounted to a snarl. “I lived by myself before Mike came onboard. Besides, I’m not alone.”
He was with a woman.
Maris realized now that all the signs were there. Mike was away. Parker’s shirt was unbuttoned, and his hair was more disheveled than usual. “I’m sorry. I… I should have called before I came.”
“Yeah, you should have,” he said crossly. “But since you’ve made the trip, you might just as well come on in. We’re in here.”
He wheeled his chair around and rolled it into the dining room. Reluctantly Maris followed, wishing there were a way she could turn and run without looking like a coward. Short of that, she wished she didn’t have to meet his lady friend looking so bedraggled.
She wasn’t up to an introduction to anyone, but especially not to a woman that Parker had invited over for some afternoon delight. The skirt of her linen suit was badly wrinkled. There was a run in her stocking. The raincoat, which she had needed in New York, was as out of place here as a snorkel mask in the Sahara.
She stood her suitcase in the foyer and folded her coat over it, then combed her fingers through her hair, which had been wind-damaged during the boat ride over from the mainland. There was no time for further repair. Fortifying herself with a deep breath, she stepped through the arched opening between the hallway and dining room.
Her primping had been unnecessary. Except for Parker, the room was empty. She looked at him inquisitively. “Up there,” he said, motioning with his chin.
“I’ve noticed it swaying before,” she told him, looking overhead at the chandelier. “It catches the current from the air-conditioning vent.”
“Reasonable explanation. But wrong. It’s the hanging ghost.”
She expelled a short laugh. Finding him alone after all had left her feeling a little giddy. “Hanging ghost?”
He proceeded to tell her a tale about a planter who’d fallen on hard times. “His desperate attempts to recoup the family fortune were ill-conceived and only plunged them deeper into financial ruin. He hanged himself right here in the dining room.” Upon reflection, he added, “I trust no one was having dinner at the time.”
“You really believe that his ghost is…” She motioned toward the swaying fixture. “Up there?”
“Hell, yes.”
“It doesn’t bother you to have a ghost residing in your house?”
“He lived here for almost a century before Mike and I moved in.” He shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to mind us, so we ignore him. Ordinarily. Today, he’s kept me company. Pretty damned good conversationalist.”
Maris peered at Parker suspiciously, then her eyes strayed to the open decanter on the sideboard. Coming back to him, she said, “You’re drunk.”
“Not yet.”
“But well on your way.”
“Working on it.” He rolled his chair over to the sideboard. “Care to join me?”
“Sure.”
His head came around quickly, his surprise over her answer turning into a wicked grin of approval. “Sin suits you, Mrs. Matherly-Reed. You should engage in it more often.” He took a clean glass from a silver tray and began to pour from the decanter. “Say when.”
“When.”
After pouring the two drinks, he wedged both glasses between his thighs and rolled his chair back to her. “Help yourself.”
It was a blatant dare. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she reached between his legs for one of the glasses. “Take your time,” he drawled.
She pulled the glass from between his thighs and clinked it against the one remaining. “Cheers.”
He grinned again. “That might put some needed color in your cheeks, but you’re gonna have to drink more than that if you want to catch up with me.” After saluting her with his glass, he tossed his drink back like a shot.
She sipped the straight bourbon more cautiously. “Is this what you do now instead of write? You drink?”
“You must’ve been talking to Mike.”
“When you refused to take my calls.”
“He’s a tattletale.”
“Some things I can see for myself.”
“You’re a clever girl, all right.”
“Why have you stopped working on Envy, and why are you getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon?”
“What better time? Besides, all the great writers were drunks. Didn’t you know? I’ll bet Homer went to the ancient Greek’s equivalent of AA. From Edgar Allan Poe, to Fitzgerald, to—”
“Parker, why are you doing this?”
“Why’d you come back?” he snapped in return.
“I asked you first.”
“Because I don’t have any of the narcotics I used to take, and I’d have a hard time hanging myself from the chandelier.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“You’ve mentioned suicide twice. It’s offensive and tasteless. Particularly since a good friend of mind blew his brains out last week.”
The exchange ended there. Parker averted his head, and for a time neither of them spoke. Maris sipped her bourbon until she’d drunk it all, then returned the empty glass to the sideboard.
Finally Parker said, “Mike finished the mantel.”
“I noticed. It’s beautiful.” She crossed to the fireplace and ran her fingertips over the wood’s satin finish. “He did an excellent job.”
“Be sure and tell him.”
“I will.”
“Who was your friend?”
She turned back to him. “Our corporate lawyer. I’d known him all my life. He was like an uncle to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For him it was over before he felt any pain. For the people who cared about him, it wasn’t that easy. They’ll feel the pain of it for a long time.”
“Problems?”
“Not that anyone knew of.”
“Then why’d he do it?”
“That remains a mystery.” Speaking to the mantel, she said almost as an afterthought, “Noah had a meeting with him that afternoon.”
“He detected nothing wrong?”
“No, nothing.”
“What was their meeting about?”
“Normal business. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
She faced him again. “Why?”
Rather than answer, he asked if she wanted another drink.
“No, thank you. My toes are already tingling.”
He glanced down at her shoes. “You’re dressed for New York. Why don’t you change, then you can read the segment I’ve been working on since you left.”
She smiled in surprise. “So you have been writing?”
“Mike only thinks he knows everything.”