Her eyes seemed to darken as she went on gazing back at him. Now they were the color of blue just at sundown. Her lips had parted slightly, as if she meant to catch her breath. He didn’t take a step closer to her, didn’t make a move toward her. He didn’t need to, as long as they were together like this, alone in their own private corner of the room.
He heard Kim utter something under her breath, something he couldn’t quite hear. Then she turned abruptly and walked away. He followed, his gaze lingering on her. The dress she wore was cut daringly low in back, revealing more creamy skin. And more freckles.
Lord. Was he to be undone by freckles? Michael reminded himself that he hadn’t been out with a woman in a while—that was the problem. After fourteen years of marriage, he’d forgotten what it was like to be on a date. Except that Kim had made it very clear this wasn’t a date. And that led him to another question. Why was he acting like a damn fool around her?
He didn’t have any time to ponder the matter, because they’d reached the first Bennetts: a man and a woman who made room for Kim and Michael, but only with an air of reluctance. Kim was very businesslike.
“Diane, your mother wants you to meet her new tenant. Michael Turner.”
She could have simply introduced him as her nextdoor neighbor, but instead, she’d brought Sophie into it. Michael wondered why that bothered him. Meanwhile, he shook hands with Diane Bennett. She was obviously Sophie’s daughter. The family resemblance was striking: heavy reddish hair, intractable features. But Diane at least was animated.
“So you’re Michael Turner,” she said with interest. “Mother told us all about you. She said she was interviewing tenants, and that it was very discouraging. She didn’t think she could find anyone trustworthy to rent the house. Are you trustworthy, Mr. Turner?” Diane asked, apparentiy in all seriousness.
He reflected on the question. If Kim knew the truth about him, she probably wouldn’t find him trustworthy by any definition. He caught her looking at him again, and he saw the doubt clouding her eyes. She was right to doubt him unfortunately.
Diane Bennett was veering off on a different tack. “You haven’t met Jack yet,” she said importantly. “Mr. Turner, this is my friend Jack Hutchinson.” She sounded as if she was announcing royalty, and gazed at Jack with reverence. He seemed a normal enough guy, balding on top, spreading around the middle but clearly doing his best to suck in his gut. He looked like the kind of person who’d be happier in a pair of roomy overalls than in the suit he wore.
“Anyway,” Diane went on, “Mother was saying maybe she just ought to sell that house next to Stan’s—next to Kim’s.” Diane corrected herself deliberately, with an oddly put—upon air. “Mother said it was very discouraging, after all the trouble she’s had with tenants—”
“The Harveys were a perfectly nice couple,” Kim interrupted with that edge to her voice Michael was starting to recognize. “They never gave Sophie any trouble at all.”
“Oh, well, the Harveys,” Diane said dismissively. “I wasn’t thinking about them. You know…it was the people before.”
“The Millers?” Kim asked in a skeptical tone. “They were nice, too.”
Diane Bennett was starting to look peeved. “The whole point is that Mother was getting very discouraged about having to rent the place again, and then Mr. Turner came along and solved Mother’s problems.”
They all studied him now, silently, as if contemplating the peculiar fact that someone had actually met Sophie Bennett’s standards. Diane had a particularly knowing expression on her face. How much had Sophie told her? Did she suspect the real reason Michael was “renting” a house next door to Kim?
Subterfuge, deception—definitely not his style. He tried to remind himself of all the reasons he’d become a private investigator: a chance to get away from bad memories, a chance to spend more time with his son, a chance to pick his own cases. The only problem was, he regretted this case more and more all the time. Especially when he looked into Kim Bennett’s eyes and saw the distrust there.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Kim said a bit forcefully, “I have to introduce Mr. Turner to the others.”
There was an awkward pause. “Nice to have met you, too,” Michael said to their pointed silence. He didn’t bother to keep the irony from his tone.
Kim was already headed toward the remaining set of Bennetts, but Michael took her elbow and steered her outside, instead, onto a veranda. Night had fallen. The air still held the summer heat, but it was no longer oppressive. Michael preferred it to the artificially cool room they’d just left behind.
“We shouldn’t be out here,” Kim said.
“Do you think it will make them wonder about us?”
“They’re wondering about you,” she returned. “They’ve already made up their minds about me—they did that long ago. But you’re someone new. They haven’t figured you out yet.”
He knew what she meant to say—that she hadn’t figured him out yet. Too bad he couldn’t help her with that.
“Let’s just get it over with,” she said impatiently. “You can meet the others, and hopefully Sophie will get on with this ridiculous thing.” She turned back toward the room, but Michael clasped her hand to stop her.
“They can do without us for a few minutes.”
Kim’s fingers moved restlessly in his, and then she slipped her hand away. There was no porch light, and he could see only the outline of her face.
“There’s no good reason for us to be here.” He heard the uncertainty in her voice.
“You can give me your take on Diane and Jack.”
“You’ve just met them. Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m curious,” he said.
“Why?” Now the uncertainty was gone, replaced by outright challenge. He wished he could read her expression. He also wished he could tell her the truth, the reason he needed to know more about the Bennetts.
Smart, he told himself. Confess everything to the woman who may very well have killed her husband.
“Just curious,” he repeated.
Kim hesitated, then gave a shrug. “I’m no authority on the almighty Bennetts. I’m not allowed in the clique.”
“Maybe you don’t allow them in your clique.”
She seemed to consider this. “You think it’s my fault I’m not a cozy part of the family? Once upon a time. all I wanted was to belong.” Her words sounded brittle on the night air. “Anyway, what can I tell you that would possibly be of interest? Diane—she keeps talking about how she admires Jack, but she doesn’t even realize yet that she’s in love with him. She’d better figure it out soon, though, before Sophie ruins things again—and that’s really all I have to say.” She sounded chagrined, as if wishing she’d stopped earlier.
He thought over what she’d said, searching for anything that might be of use. Diane Bennett, for all her attempts at perkiness, was as peculiarly devoid of charisma as her mother. It was a strange lack, as if some essential gene had been left out of the family makeup.
“So you think she’s in love with Jack,” Michael said gravely.
“Anyone can see it—except Diane. And possibly Jack. For a physics professor, he can be remarkably dense. But do you really want to know about Diane Bennett’s love life?”
He couldn’t honestly say that he did, but he knew any detail might be important. One thing was certain—he never would’ve pegged Jack Hutchinson for a physics professor.
“You make it sound like Sophie’s botched things for Diane before.”
“And