“His voice is distinctive,” Lynn commented. “Do you suppose he was angry enough to . . . ?” She rubbed the tops of her arms and shuddered.
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Dr. Meyers started. “People exchange angry words all the time. In fact, arguing is an acceptable form of direct communications. If done properly, it can provide a healthy emotional release and help pave the way for further discussion. That is, if both participants refrain from becoming contemptuous and express their differences in a respectful manner.”
Pam was listening with raised brows. “If you say so, Doc. But I’m telling you girls, there wasn’t anything courteous about this argument. And there sure as heck wasn’t any mutual respect floating around. Leastways, all I heard was a whole lot of pissed off. And mostly on Oscar’s part. I wouldn’t have wanted to be Chuck Richards for anything.”
“And it’d be much easier to believe that a guy like that killed Chuck than it is to believe Jodi did it,” Lynn said. “Although that would mean your mother is dating a . . .” Lynn let the last word drop off, biting her lip.
Suddenly a sense of self-righteousness swept over me. See? I wanted to say. I was right not to be nice to the guy. But I didn’t say anything, just held my head a little higher.
“Well, being angry doesn’t make one a killer,” Dr. Meyers said. “Thank goodness, or everyone who comes into my office would be wanted for murder.” She ended with a raised eyebrow and half smile. She started wrapping up her leftover sandwich. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to head back to my office to see a client. Can I give either of you a lift back to the inn?”
“Me,” said Pam. She took a final drag on the straw from her cherry Coke, grabbing the stem of the cherry and biting off the sweet morsel. Then she wadded up her sandwich wrapper. “Think I’ll try to get some writing in before this afternoon’s events get started.” She looked toward Lynn and cracked a smile. “Unless you want to challenge me to another game of pool this afternoon?” Then, noticing my double take, she offered an explanation. “Cora’s got a nifty game room up on the second floor of the inn. It’s fun, but little did I know Lynn’s a pool shark. She’s about taken me for all of last quarter’s royalties.”
Lynn laughed. “Maybe later this evening, Pam. Right now I think I’ll stay and finish my sandwich.” Then she smiled up at Dr. Meyers. “And thanks for the offer of a ride, but I think I’ll walk back. I may want to browse some of the shops anyway.”
After they departed, Lynn grew quiet. “Are you doing okay?” I asked. “This has been quite the week, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has. I need to ask you a favor.” She fiddled nervously with her napkin as she spoke. “I want to go to Chuck’s funeral.”
I was surprised, not sure exactly what she wanted from me—encouragement or dissuasion. “Of course. I’ll go with you, if you wish, but do you think it’s a good idea to dredge up all those bad memories?”
She sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, and believe me, I’ve gone back and forth myself. It’s complicated. I’m not even sure I can explain.”
“There’s no need to explain.”
“But I want to try,” she insisted. She took a deep breath, her eyes not quite meeting mine as she started to explain. “Whenever Chuck lost his temper and . . . and hurt me, he’d say how bad he felt, how he couldn’t help it. Then he’d apologize and say the sweetest things, promising me it’d never happen again.” Her cheeks flushed as she nervously tore at the edges of her napkin. “I always believed him.” She sighed. “Over and over, I made excuses for his behavior until one day he almost killed me.”
I reached for her hand, sending little white flakes of paper napkin everywhere. “Oh, Lynn. I’m so sorry.”
She pulled away and sat straighter in her chair. “It was so bad . . . I was in the hospital for two days. As soon as they released me, I left. Didn’t even say good-bye. I couldn’t. Didn’t trust myself to go back to him. And ever since then, I’ve been trying to push it all behind me. Build my own life, become stronger so I never fall into anything like that again.”
“And you have. Look at you, Lynn. You’ve written a book and it’s going to be a huge success. I just know it.”
She nodded, her stare fixated on the table. “Anyway, I think going to the funeral will help me close that part of my life. I just need to know it’s really over. Can you understand that?”
I nodded. “I think I can. And I’d be happy to go with you.”
“Dr. Meyers doesn’t think I should go. She said the same thing you did. That it might bring back too many unhappy emotions.”