Since You've Been Gone (24 page)

Clay frowned thoughtfully. “Well, Gypsy doesn't have pierced ears and clip-ons are so easy to lose. I don't know how she feels about tennis bracelets, either…”

“Then perhaps a nice ring.”

“Gypsy is his dog,” Rebecca said dryly so Sonia could stop trying to please.

The girl blinked at her, then laughed. “Okay, sir. I guess you're not really here for a gift for Gypsy.”

“Well, I do admire that ring Ms. Ryan is flashing around.”

“So do I,” Sonia said. “I think it was made for her.”

“Me, too. Wrap it up and send the bill to Peter Dormaine of Dormaine's Restaurant. I've heard he'd like to buy her something exquisite, the more expensive the better.”

Sonia appeared confused and Rebecca blushed and glared at Clay. The last person in the world who would want to buy her a gift was Peter Dormaine. He'd probably like to have her run out of town before she completely destroyed his restaurant. “He's joking,” she said. “And I suggest he keep his rapier wit to himself and buy what he came in here for. Unless, of course, he really was following me.”

Clay was unabashed. “I'm sorry to disappoint you, Rebecca, but I did come in for a gift. Sunday is my father's birthday. I'm buying him a watch. He won't like anything I get, but his is a disgrace.” He paused. “Could you wait five minutes while I pick out something and then go next door for coffee with me? I have something I need to talk over with you.” He sobered. “Something important.”

Sonia had seemed to enjoy the exchange between the two, her teenage mind creating sparks of romance. Rebecca crossed the room and sat back down on the dainty blue-upholstered chair. Clearly Clay had been asking some questions and might now have some pertinent information.

Clay looked at three watches before hastily picking one and pulling out a credit card. While Sonia took care of the purchase, Rebecca said, “That didn't take long.”

“I told you Dad won't like anything I give him. Gifts are a gesture. And the Sunday birthday party should be the usual gala occasion.” He raised an eyebrow. “Want to come?”

“What? Me? I don't even know your father.”

“Doesn't matter. Mom's a good cook and doesn't mind surprise guests. You could take Sean and I'll take Gypsy. At least they'll have a good time. They can chase cows or something.”

“That would please your father. May I think about it?”

“Sure, but don't take too long. Shindigs like this draw people by the hundreds. Have to reserve your place.”

Clay was smiling, his tone bantering, but Rebecca saw the unhappiness in his eyes. She knew little about his home life except that he'd grown up on the most prosperous farm in the area. The Bellamy clan was known to be quite comfortable in the money department, but they rarely socialized and lived as simply as if they had to watch every dollar.

When Sonia handed him the gift-wrapped watch, Rebecca returned to the counter. “I want to thank you for talking with me earlier.”

“It's okay. It's just nice to be believed for a change.”
Clay looked puzzled. Obviously he had no idea the pretty clerk was Todd's baby-sitter.

“I hope to see you again, Sonia,” Rebecca said. “Goodbye.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sonia's smile faltered. “But, uh, Ms. Ryan? I mean, Rebecca?”

“Yes?”

“You're still wearing the emerald ring.”

“Are you trying to pull this trick again?” Clay demanded. He looked at Sonia earnestly. “Everywhere we go she walks out the door with something valuable. An out-and-out kleptomaniac. I tell you, miss, it's downright embarrassing.”

Sonia dissolved into giggles as Rebecca pulled the ring off her finger and handed it to Sonia. The girl's brows drew together. “You don't want it?”

“No. Well… that is … I'm not sure. It
is
beautiful—”

“
Beautiful!
” Clay agreed fervently.

“Oh,
will
you be quiet!” Rebecca snapped as Clay blinked innocently and Sonia tried to swallow more giggles. Clay was being extremely annoying and just about to make her laugh, too. “Sonia, could you put the ring away for me until tomorrow? Just twenty-four hours until I make up my mind?”

“Well, I can't refuse to sell it if another customer wants it,” Sonia said, then winked. “But I could sort of forget to put it back in the window until tomorrow afternoon. I have some of the store's business cards here. They have our telephone number. I'll also write my home number on one,” Sonia said, reaching for a pen. “That way if you make a decision before the store opens tomorrow, you can let me know and I'll be sure the ring is put away until you can get in. Okay?”

“That's very considerate. I appreciate it,” Rebecca said, taking the card. She then looked at Clay. “You said you wanted to have coffee so you could talk to me.”

“Right you are, my dear. Let's go next door. I have extraordinary news to impart.”

“You do seem full of it today. I absolutely can't wait to hear. ‘Bye, Sonia.”

“Yes, good-bye,” Clay said. “Thanks for the assistance.”

They walked in silence to the Parkview Café next door. Just as they had for Dormaine's, people had predicted failure for what they considered a precious little gourmet coffee and pastry shop in downtown Sinclair. “This isn't New York or San Francisco,” some hard-line proponents of the “simple life” had announced. “People want a good old-fashioned cup of joe and a doughnut. Period. None of those brioches and croissants and flavored coffees with whipped cream.” But two years later the Parkview Café thrived with its lovely periwinkle blue and raspberry interior and its huge picture window overlooking Leland Park.

Rebecca ordered a vanilla decaf and a croissant. Clay ordered a double espresso. “Espresso?” she asked. “You seem so wound up today, that should blow you right through the roof.”

“I'm not as wound up as I seem. It's been a hard day. I got someone to relieve me for an hour so I could pick up this gift, then I have to work until ten. I need the energy boost. But may I say you seem fairly wired yourself today?”

“I haven't had a great day either, and I have a blazing headache that's making me snappish. I let Bill have it right before I went in the jewelry shop.”

Clay was instantly all concern. “You've been too active after the wreck. You haven't even had your sutures removed yet. Are they bothering you?”

“They itch.”

“That's normal. And good. It means you're healing. I want you to come into the hospital and let me check them tomorrow.”

“You checked them last night and changed my bandages. And I'm taking my antibiotics. Could you take out the stitches tomorrow?”

“No. It's too early. But I'm concerned about the headache.”

“It's partly the result of the vision last night. It's a pattern. The pain starts in my right temple around the area of the crescent scar by my eye.”

Clay removed a small pill container from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Take these two tablets.”

“What are they?”

“Cyanide. After you take them you won't even think about your headache anymore.”

“You just want me to convulse, die on the floor, and make another scene in a restaurant.”

“That
would
make you the talk of the town, but I'm afraid they're only Excedrin. They work better on headaches than plain aspirin. Now take them.” As she dutifully swallowed them with water, Clay added, “But as for restaurants, I don't think we'll return to Dormaine's for a while.”

“You actually think I'd go back to where I humiliated myself so royally?”

He smiled at her, his eyes turning gentle. “Don't worry about it, Rebecca. It was an incident in a small town restaurant. I don't think it even made
Entertainment Tonight
. And according to the hostess, Frank is taking care of the bill for the damage, which looked a lot worse than it was. Forget it. In the great scheme of things, it was nothing.”

Rebecca sighed. “I guess I'll take the doctor's advice, both about forgetting Dormaine's and about coming into the emergency room tomorrow. Believe me, I can't wait for these cuts to heal and to get rid of these stitches.”

Clay smiled. “Now, do you want to hear what I dragged you in here for? Rhetorical question. Of course you do. Well, first let me tell you that I'm thinking of giving up medicine to become a private eye. In less than twenty-four hours, I've come up with interesting information about Jean Wright.”

Rebecca's attention quickened. “Well, don't make me wait. What's her story?”

Quickly Clay told her about the younger brother and sister away at colleges they couldn't afford and Jean's near
breakdown less than two months ago caused by frantic overwork to pay their expenses. “My source, who shall remain nameless, is surprised that Jean is spending so much time with Molly in such stressful circumstances. She says Jean knows she has to take it easy if she's going to pull herself together enough to get her job back.”

“You mean she was fired?”

“The words were
on leave
. I think she was suspended.”

Rebecca thought for a moment. “Well, she could just be a very kind-hearted person—without charm but kind-hearted—who's more concerned about Molly than about getting her health back.”

“Getting her health back so she can get her
job
back. A job that supports the two spoiled brats that seem to be the center of her life. That strikes me as being a little odd, especially since you said Molly had only mentioned her a couple of times in the past. Now she's a fixture at the house, and it's not like there's no one else to watch over Molly. I know Doug would spend time with her. You'd spend more time with her if Jean the dragon weren't there breathing fire at you. Even your mother and Betty would if they were needed, but Jean seems to be driving everyone away.
Why?
”

“Because she's not just being helpful? She has some self-interest?”

“My conclusion exactly.”

“What self-interest?”

“She needs money, Rebecca. Desperately. After all, she may not get back her job.”

Rebecca set down her coffee cup. “My God, Clay, you don't think that she might have something to do with taking Todd?” He lifted his shoulders. “Well, you weren't the only one doing some detecting. I went into The Jewelry Box because I wasn't feeling well, why I'll explain later. The salesgirl was Sonia Ellis, Todd's baby-sitter. I'm beginning to wonder if… well, I know this sounds kooky, but—”

“That was Sonia Ellis?” Rebecca nodded. “So you wondered if you'd been drawn in there.”

“Yes.” She looked closely at Clay. There was not a hint of doubt or ridicule in his expression. “Anyway, I got her talking about Jean. Jean insists she left her house at seven the night of the abduction. Sonia claims a little before nine someone opened the back door to Jean's house to let in the cat. The light was dim, but she saw short dark hair and white nurse's shoes. And the person called the cat's name in Jean's voice.”

“But what about the patient who says Jean was there at seven?”

“Sonia says she's senile and takes lots of medication. It could have been seven or much later when Jean arrived for all the woman knew.”

Clay leaned back in his chair. “Well, that puts a different spin on things.”

“I'd say so. I'd like to talk to Sonia some more, but she says she's going to the library tonight and I don't want to interrupt her there. Maybe I'll stop in the store again tomorrow.”

“For conversation and another look at that ring?”

“For conversation. She might reveal something else she was too frightened to tell Bill, although I know he likes her.”

“He's still the chief of police and she's a teenager who was left in charge of a child who was abducted. I'd be intimidated, too.”

“Looks like this is the place to be on a Tuesday afternoon.”

Rebecca glanced up to see Doug standing over them. “Well, hi. Did you just come in?”

“I've been here about fifteen minutes sitting right behind you. You two were too engrossed in your conversation to notice me. Actually I've been downtown all afternoon.” He was heavy-lidded as if he hadn't slept a wink and he hadn't shaved that morning. Some men could get by with stubble. Doug looked unkempt. “Why aren't you at the hospital, Clay?”

“They give me a break after every thirty lives I save.
Nice to see you again, Doug. What's it been? Three or four months?”

“More like six. At the Christmas parade you stood with Lynn and me.”

“And Larry. We went to The Gold Key afterward for some Christmas cheer,” Clay said.

Rebecca smiled. “That seems like an odd place to go for a festive holiday drink. I remember it as pretty grungy.”

“That's just because of all the Hell's Angels clientele and the floor sticky from beer and the country music blaring from the jukebox, and the occasional fistfight,” Clay said. “Since you've moved to New Orleans, you've gotten too sophisticated for the more rustic ambience of our local tavern.”

Rebecca smiled. “Nice try, but I'm afraid The Gold Key can't compare with some of the dives on Bourbon Street. I'm certainly not a little hothouse flower.”

Doug's eyes turned stern, his voice repressive. “Better watch what you say, Becky. This is a small town. Things can be misunderstood.”

Rebecca looked at him in amazement. Doug used to have a sense of humor. His tight expression told her it had temporarily disappeared. She glanced at Clay, who only stared back in faint amusement. “I'm going to the volunteer center,” Doug said. “I haven't seen the two of you there.”

“I've been working,” Clay said shortly.

Rebecca's tone was equally clipped. “And I already put in a couple of hours today but didn't feel it was the best use of my time.”