EYES ON YOU Read online

  “That’s excellent too,” she said. “People who know me well call me Jess.”

  “Call me Roman,” he said, glancing at her as he drove back to town, feeling something that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  *****

  The woman remained in her car when she saw that Roman Mayer’s vehicle was not in the parking lot. The secretary’s car was there, as was a minivan belonging to Tess Gilliland, and a Range Rover, black, with a Washington State tag on the back was sitting there. Cynthia Ralston had gotten to the office early, hoping to have a precious moment, or more, with Roman while they walked in together. In fantasy, she had planned how this would happen, a meeting accompanied with a sweet smile of recognition—and further reconciliation with him.

  And then, there he was, turning into the lot from the north. Where had he been? She was beginning to get out, to put her plan into motion, while he was parking his Navigator at the end of the building, but two people, rather than one, got out. A woman? A woman with Dr. Roman? Cynthia’s heart began racing.

  When the two of them reached the black Range Rover, the woman had a smile on her face, mirroring the one that Dr. Roman had on his. A few words were exchanged, then the woman got into her Range Rover, buckled her seat belt, and Dr. Roman watched her every movement. Cynthia was caught completely off guard by this development…this horribly upsetting scene couldn’t mean anything good! The doctor lived alone with his dog. He did!

  CHAPTER 11

  Between his eight and his nine o’clock appointments, Roman stayed in his office for two reasons. The first was that he had deliberately by-passed Cynthia Ralston on his way in, using the back entrance, and now, he did not want to see her leaving when she and Tess were done with their session. The second reason was that he needed to make a call to the high school baseball coach, Jack Lemming.

  “Jack.”

  “Roman—that you?”

  “Last time I checked, Jack. How’s it going?”

  “Got a herd of males with testosterone and raw energy runnin’ out their ears.”

  Roman chuckled. “I won’t keep you, but when’s the last day to sign up for baseball?”

  “Last Friday.”

  “But you’d make an exception?”

  “Who is it?”

  “A new kid by the name of Aden Leitner.”

  “He any good?”

  “First glance, I think he is. He’s fourteen-years-old and seems to have real firepower in his arm.”

  “I could give him a try—see what he’s got. He’s in PE, I see, so I’ll have a word with him.”

  “I doubt you’ll be sorry.”

  “Not askin’ if he’s in any kind of trouble.”

  “Not tellin’ either. He’s a good kid, Jack, who’s just shy and unsure of himself at the moment.”

  He’d just stuck his neck out for the boy, but he sensed that his instincts were right. When he hung up the phone, his nine o’clock appointment walked in.

  *****

  He was on his way to the junior varsity game and had a large chef salad at Lenore’s beforehand. Amanda had been working the evening shift and asked him if he’d stuck to his “new routine.” The word “diet” was not mentioned.

  “I’ve made some headway,” he amicably answered.

  “Roman, you don’t need to lose any weight,” the gray-haired waitress said with conviction. “What’re you? Six-five? You’ve always been so lanky-lookin’ to me.”

  “My gut says otherwise—as well as my pants.”

  She shook her head as she sauntered off to put in his order.

  As soon as he got into the bleachers and sat down beside his sister, Roman looked around attempting to spot Eli.

  “He’s at the station still,” she said. “Somebody out on Route 173 ran a stop sign and got clobbered by a logging truck.”

  Cheryl had put on her mask, a guise that she tried to master, but failed at, where enforcing the law meant not getting personally involved when there were tragic consequences. “The man who didn’t stop was in a pick-up truck. Both he and the logging truck driver were killed, and there are logs spilled all over the place.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Roman said, gathering his sister under an arm.

  “They both had families.”

  “Jeez.”

  Although she’d been a cop for a number of years, and had seen and heard about all sorts of tragedies, Cheryl remained someone who had a very tender heart. She went out of her way to help people who needed assistance, and probably did more than anyone else at the police station with regard to benevolent endeavors.

  The junior varsity officials came out on the court, followed by the two teams that would face off against each another. Danny looked so mature, standing with his teammates while a tape of the national anthem was being played. As soon as everyone was seated again, Danny’s older brother, Patrick, joined Roman and his mom in the stands.

  “We saw your Navigator this morning, Uncle Roman, at the overlook north of town.” Patrick was grinning as wildly as an orangutan.

  “No you didn’t,” Roman muttered, stunned into lying.

  “We did!” Patrick insistently said. “We drove up north of town to pick up Tommy Badners. Danny saw your vehicle, so when we came back by, we pulled into the overlook and were going to get out, but then we saw that you had someone with you.” The boy was still grinning, alerting his mother with his animated account.

  “Yes, you saw me,” Roman acceded, knowing he’d been caught. “The woman’s a friend of mine.”

  With an acute amount of interest, Cheryl asked, “What time was this? School starts at 7:45, so that was really early?”

  Nodding his head with gusto, Patrick’s grin stayed wide indeed. “A ren-dez-vous,” he said, pronouncing the word like it was spelled. “We knew it!”

  He thought he was saved by the buzzer, the junior varsity Hawks and the Ravens from Bangor beginning their first quarter. But Cheryl hooked an arm through Roman’s before saying, “That’s nice to know.”

  Too quickly, Roman said, “Don’t tell Mom.”

  Patrick began patting him on the back, still grinning like mad. Down on the court, Danny had just assisted on a two-point score, prompting Roman to applaud.

  For a day that had begun with something extraordinary beginning to happen, something that had kept him on a fantastical cloud for the entire day, his nephew’s revelation of the event wasn’t going to burst his hopeful bubble. Who the hell really cared if he was beginning to see someone?

  Danny’s quick moves led to yet another two-point score for the Hawks, prompting the rowdy spectators to rise up and stridently cheer. When they sat down again, Cheryl said, “I won’t tell Mom tonight, Bro. I promise.”

  Not at all reassured, Roman muttered, “Only because she goes to bed early, Cheryl. After you call her in the morning, she’ll call Ruth Fenwick and that’ll be that. Can’t a guy have any privacy around here?”

  *****

  On Thursday at four, Aden appeared in the office, prompting Roman to get right to it.

  “Let’s go,” he invited the boy, having his coat already in hand. Yet again, Aden seemed surprised. Roman said, “I need a change of scenery.”

  They stopped again for canned sodas and stale bread at Mickey’s Mart, Roman telling Aden before they walked into the place that Mickey’s deliveries of anything fresh were always hit or miss. “He gets fresh bread about every two weeks,” Roman confided.

  Aden muttered, “This place is disgusting.” The kid shrugged, however, and observed, “Saves him some money, I guess.”

  Roman opened the door at Mickey’s, saying hello to Josh who sat on a stool looking bored, and they walked out with what they needed to make the gulls and terns happy. They headed for the promenade, a walkway above the ferry landings, and kept going until they reached the steep decline of rocks, the boy clambering down them at a fast clip. Roman took his time, and when he got to the shoreline, he commented, “Mountain goats can’t compete
with you, Leitner!”

  The boy actually grinned while tossing his unopened can of soda far up in the air. “Coach Lemming called me in to his office and I know you had something to do with it.”

  Roman innocently said, “Not me.”

  “Yeah—you did!” Aden insisted.

  “You sign up?”

  “Yeah. I mean—yes. Coach said he needed someone to play shortstop.”

  “Right down your alley,” said Roman, tossing the unopened bag of bread to the boy. “Better not open that soda can.”

  “Why not?” the boy said, doing just that, allowing the contents to spew away from him. He then captured some of the rest that was in the can with his mouth.

  “You need to give me something,” Roman said, while leaning against one of the larger rocks. “It’s time to begin talking about your dad.”

  With gulls circling all around them, the boy was crumbling the bread, going so far as to bash the package against a taller rock to speed the process. He opened the package, seeming to like the consistency of the pieces, and began tossing them high into the air. One of the gulls nearly splatted him with its loose droppings, making the boy laugh a little before beginning to throw them outward. As he threw pieces of the bread upward, he said, “My dad supposedly offed himself, there was blood everywhere, his business partner, Frank Norcross—a real dick-weed—is getting away with it. End of story, and I’m not in the mood to talk about it anymore.”

  The brief synopsis prodded Roman to ask, “The case is still open, though?”

  “Uncle Bill wants the whole mess over with.” While throwing a larger piece of bread high into the air, the boy barely moved in time to prevent another bombardment of bird excreta from hitting him on his head. “These birds are playing at being kamikazes!” He almost laughed out loud.

  “That’s your dad’s brother?”

  “Yeah…I mean yes. He told me that he’s got his own investigation going on.”

  “So you’re convinced that your dad was murdered?”

  “I know he was,” said Aden. “I know it because he’d never kill himself. Mom was about to have—something like a…uh breakdown, so the police investigators didn’t blame her for wanting to get us out of town, but I wanted to stay and see that slimy bastard do a perp walk for what he did.”

  *****

  On Friday, The Group was animated because of what Wyatt had found for Ben Housman. Ben hadn’t brought the hound puppy to the meeting, but Wyatt had found the six-month-old mixed-breed hound at the animal shelter and had taken it over to Ben’s house for his approval. When Roman saw pictures of it on Ben’s cell phone, he laughed at some of the puppy pictures before saying, “Mixed-breed? She looks almost all bluetick coonhound to me. What a sweet face she has! Are you keeping her, Ben?”

  “I think I will,” Ben proudly said. “Minnie and me have already bonded—in just two days!”

  “You settled on her name then?” Wyatt asked.

  “She’s Minnie,” Ben confirmed.

  Holding Ben’s cell phone when it was her turn to see the pictures, Gloria Schiller said, “She looks more like a Whippet to me.”

  “Maybe,” Roman agreed. “She’s mottle colored and has a prominent nose.” He looked over at Mona who was sitting up beside Ben Girard. Was it just coincidence that he had gotten a chair beside Hope Canard? The guy was fondling Mona’s ears and appearing nervous. Mona had obviously sensed that. Today, she wore a pink sweater, one of over a dozen that Julia Mayer had knitted for her, and was sort of preening—keeping her chin up, her blue eyes half-closed, and her eyelashes fluttery. Iris had Ben’s cell phone in hand, thumbing through the pictures while making facial gestures of delight.

  “That didn’t take long,” Roman said to Wyatt. “Are you friends with someone at the animal shelter?”

  “Just got lucky,” Wyatt dismissively answered. “I need to talk about somebody at my classes who said I was too old to be in there.”

  “It’s for adults,” Roman defensively remarked. “There is no age limit. What are you, Wyatt? Early forties? Give me a break!”

  *****

  He had expected that he would meet Jess out front, in the parking lot of the office. But when he got Mona settled in the vehicle, he found a note on the windshield.

  Don’t forget !!!

  J

  CHAPTER 12

  The idea of having a private lunch with her thrilled him like nothing else had in a very long time. He was being invited to the house she had bought, where she and her children would be living. He pulled in line at the ferry landing, with only three other vehicles waiting to cross. He tried to relax, but couldn’t. Mona, in the backseat, was aware of his nervousness, and moved forward to nuzzle her head against his. He caressed her face, telling her that he was okay. Conscious of his desire—his need—to be near her again, the ferry ride to Whittler was not something he even remembered later that day.

  Once off the ferry and onto the island, he turned north and went up the hill to the Hartman House. Jess’s Land Rover was parked in the driveway. As soon as he got out of his vehicle, telling Mona to stay, Jess came out of the house and said, “Bring Mona in with you, and just pardon the mess.”

  Behind his dark glasses, he got another real look at her, and, for the first time, she wasn’t bundled in a down coat. She had on loose jeans with the cuffs rolled up—boyfriend jeans he thought they were called—and a snug fitting, cable-knit turtleneck sweater that barely covered her mid-section. Her hair was glossy and appeared to have been curled at the ends, and she wore a lip gloss that provided more color to her face. The dark green color of her sweater matched her green eyes, which sparkled with excitement when she looked at him.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her as he fumbled with the back door to allow Mona out. As soon as the dog leapt out, Jess’s smile grew wider. She dropped to a squatting position and began petting her. “Look at how pretty you are,” she cooed. “You are a beautiful dog, Mona.” The dog was soaking the praise up like a dry sponge, even going so far as to rest a paw on one of Jess’s arms, a signal for: don’t stop—keep going with this.

  She took her time admiring and petting his dog. Okay, test number one, you clearly like my dog. Test number two: just now, when you stood up, you didn’t brush off your hands as though they were dirty from petting Mona. Roman was beginning to feel giddy as Jess kept talking to his canine while leading her to the side door of the house.

  She turned around to warn him, “Remember, we’re just moving in.”

  Roman stepped inside after her, while Mona led the way into the kitchen. Jess said, “You need some water, Sweet Girl,” and went right to an upper cabinet to pull down a bowl and run fresh water into it. Test number three: she didn’t even have to be asked, before giving his dog water.

  Roman took a couple of minutes to look around the main floor of the house, at all of the unpacked boxes and displaced furniture. Jess had a lot to do before she and the kids could be settled. But he was impressed by the high ceilings and obvious character of the house. Someone must have been painting. He saw a large drop cloth and ladder, along with a paint tray, an extension roller, and trim brushes that were stationed to the side of the living area.

  Returning by herself, while Mona could be heard lapping water in the kitchen, she said, “It is a work in progress. I’m doing my own painting.”

  “You are?” Roman was surprised and impressed.

  “I’m finished with the upstairs rooms, thinking we’d need those first. Aden helped me to get the bedroom furniture in place last night.” She seemed a little breathless, recounting the work.

  “This is a whole lot to tackle by yourself,” he said in awe.

  “Come back to the kitchen,” she said while motioning. “I’ve been working on unpacking in there all morning.”

  Two place servings had been set on the large island of an otherwise old-fashioned kitchen. “Wow,” he said. “This is quite spacious.”

  “I got take-out from Aunt Ruth,�
� she apologetically said. “I hope you like lobster salad.”

  “Hers is the very best,” Roman truthfully said while going to the sink when she did, washing his hands with her. When he got close enough, he could smell her shampoo again, trying to memorize the smell of it. She stood several inches shorter than he, five-ten or so, but, like Cheryl, Jess was quite tall for a woman.

  She handed him a dish towel first, he stopped any of the drips before handing part of it back so that they could finish drying their hands together. She looked up at him, a smile indicating that she liked his intimate gesture.

  She had already opened a bottle of white wine, and poured a glass half full before saying, “I should have asked.”

  “I’d love some wine,” he assured her.

  “Good,” she said, filling the other glass half way full.

  From the refrigerator, she took out two large salads on a bed of fresh greens. “I didn’t expect such a treat as this,” he said, meaning it. After she placed the plates down, he pulled out her bar seat for her and then sat down himself. Besides chucks of lobster, the salads had small pasta shells, corn, bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, and some herbs that he was betting Ruth kept close to her vest. Great cooks were like that.

  Before taking a first bite, he watched her begin to eat and was quite surprised when she dove into her salad, relishing a big bite of it and then smiling at him as she chewed, swallowed, and then took a sip of wine, all with an expression of delight. “Guess what I’m doing every day at five A.M.?”

  “Sleeping?” he said.

  “Learning to make the pies,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not.”

  “But why five A.M.?” Roman was totally baffled.

  “That’s when she makes them.”

  “I didn’t know that,” he said.

  “Ruth has always made her pies before daylight, before the breakfast diners start coming in. She gets them all out of the way then. Six days a week.”

  Eating a large bite of the salad, pausing to exhibit a more-than-pleased look at the tasty dish, he ate more, while she did, commenting, “There’s a darn line out on the sidewalk during the summer months.”