“Maybe I should have led up to it gracefully, rather than just springing it on you like that,” he said. “I’m usually more subtle.”
More subtle when inviting a woman to sleep with him. And how often was that, she wondered, although she was reasonably sure it was often. She was equally sure that few who were invited turned him down.
Her carefree laugh was totally false. “Should I be flattered or offended? Why don’t you think a more subtle approach would work with me?”
“None of the rules apply to you, Lilly.”
“Why not?”
“You’re too smart and too beautiful.”
“I’m not beautiful. Attractive, perhaps, but not beautiful.”
“You are. I thought so the minute you stepped aboard that bus.”
She had been several minutes late and the last to board the bus, she recalled. She’d stood facing the others, looking for a seat. Tierney had been sitting in the third row, next to the window. The aisle seat beside him was vacant. They’d made eye contact. She returned his smile but didn’t accept his silent invitation to sit beside him. Instead she moved past and took the aisle seat in the row behind him.
The doors closed and the bus pulled out. Their guide for the excursion stood up in the aisle to welcome them all. He gave a ten-minute spiel about safety and what they could expect during their day on the French Broad River. His jokes were lame, but she laughed politely, as did Tierney.
When the guide finished his cheerful speech and sat down behind the driver, others in the group began chatting among themselves. Tierney turned to her.
I’m Ben Tierney.
Lilly Martin.
Pleased to meet you, Lilly Martin.
“You looked great that day,” he said.
She knew she should stop this conversation here. It was violating the ground rules she’d laid down about keeping their minds on practical matters and leaving anything personal out of the situation. But the woman in her wanted to hear what he had to say.
She frowned at him dubiously. “In my kayaking getup?”
“Black spandex has never looked so good.”
“Untrue, but thanks anyway.”
“You introduced yourself by your maiden name. I didn’t learn until my next trip to Cleary that the Lilly Martin I’d met on the river was in fact Mrs. Burton, estranged wife of Dutch, newly hired chief of police.”
“I used my maiden name professionally. Once I’d filed for divorce, I started using it all the time. Who told you that Dutch and I were married?”
“An old man named Gus Elmer. Do you know him?”
She shook her head.
“He’s the owner of the lodge where I stay when I’m in the area. Colorful character. Always eager to talk to his guests. Without making it too obvious, I asked him if he knew of a Lilly Martin who had a cabin in the vicinity.”
“And got an earful.”
He smiled crookedly. “If Gus had any qualms against gossip, bourbon cleared his conscience. By the time the bottle was empty, I knew the basic facts about you, including Amy’s death. That explained a lot.”
“About?”
He gave careful consideration to his answer. “That day on the river, I noticed that every time you laughed, you seemed to catch yourself in the act, and you would stop. Suddenly. Your smile would vanish. The sparkle would go out of your eyes.
“At the time, it threw me. I wondered why you’d trip a switch to stop having fun. It was like you didn’t have a right to enjoy yourself, like it was wrong for you to be having a good time.”
“That’s it exactly, Tierney.”