The Nosy Neighbor (8 page)

“Do you want me to go home, Lucy? I don’t mind sleeping here on the couch. I don’t think you should be alone.”

“No, Wylie, please stay, but you don’t have to sleep on the couch. I have a spare bedroom. I don’t think I want to be alone.”

Wylie heaved a sigh of relief as Coop bounded onto his lap. He did everything but purr so Wylie would rub his belly. His owner obliged.

Sadie snorted her jealousy and started to paw the carpet. She let loose with an earsplitting bark. Coop leaped off Wylie’s lap and raced down the hall after his girlfriend. Lucy laughed. “Dogs are so funny sometimes.”

Wylie stretched out his long legs, his eyes on the dancing flames that were so mesmerizing. He risked a glance at Lucy, who was staring at him intently. He wanted to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. The decision was taken out of his hands when the phone rang. He could see the panic in Lucy’s face when she debated if she should answer the phone.

“I always get nervous when the phone rings after nine o’clock,” Wylie volunteered.

“Yeah, me, too.” Lucy picked up the phone, her greeting strained and cautious.

She listened to Special Agent Connors ask how she was feeling before she agreed to a meeting at noon on Monday. “Fine,” was Lucy’s comment before she hung up the phone. She was jittery. That meeting, she knew, would be where the rubber met the road.

“Is something wrong?” Wylie asked. “What? You look scared to death. Tell me. Listen, I have a gun. I’m not a great shot, but I can shoot. I have a permit, too. What? Talk to me, Lucy.”

Lucy debated for all of five seconds. “Okay, come over here,” she said, pointing to the sofa. Wylie needed no prompting. He walked over and sat beside her.

Lucy pointed to the stack of brokerage statements. “Those are just the beginning.” She talked nonstop for twenty minutes, ending the conversation by pointing to the shredded remains of the wedding invitations on the dining room table. “I’m going to sell my gown on eBay!”

Wylie stared at his neighbor. “That’s…that’s spook stuff.”

“No, spooks are what they call CIA agents. FBI agents are just cold, steely-eyed people with no hearts. They believe I know all about this. I swear to God, I don’t know a thing. They’re ruining my life. Remember that man in Atlanta who they thought had something to do with the bombing at the Olympics? They ruined his life. That’s what they’re going to do to me.”

“Only if you let them. You said that’s not your signature on the brokerage accounts. That will hold up in a court of law. As your lawyer, I know how to get down and dirty if you want me to.”

Lucy pressed her knuckles against her eyes so she wouldn’t cry. “Wylie, the signature on those papers is mine. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out how all this happened, and now I remember. They have me dead to rights. That’s why they were so smug when I kept saying my signature was forged.”

Lucy lowered her head, her eyes full of shame. “About a year ago, Jonathan and I were celebrating some big deal he’d put together. I don’t even know what the deal was, just that it was big, and he’d made a bundle of money. We were at my place in New York and had had several bottles of wine. The truth is, I was pretty tipsy. I thought Jonathan was, too. Out of the blue, he opened his briefcase and pulled out all these papers and asked me to sign them. Most of them were blank, you know, the last page on a stapled document. He said his attorneys were putting my name on some of his holdings so if anything happened to him, I’d benefit. He cited how things happened with airlines after 9-11, and he wanted to make sure I was taken care of. I signed everything he put in front of me. I never gave it another thought until those agents showed up. I was going to marry the man, so why wouldn’t I sign the papers? I wasn’t thinking like a lawyer at the time,” Lucy said defensively. “It is my signature on every single piece of paper, and it is my word against Jonathan’s. I feel so incredibly stupid. I knew better, and I still did it. I guess he had me bewitched.”

“That’s not good, but then you already know that. What exactly does the FBI want you to do?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. They’re coming back on Monday at noon. I guess you need to be here since you’re my lawyer now. Like I said, I just kept telling them I didn’t know anything. I don’t, not really. They want me to help them. With the FBI hounding me and what’s going on in my head, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

“Jonathan duped me, Wylie! It wasn’t like I was desperate to find a man, to get married. I wasn’t. He came along, a nice guy, he knew how to flatter me and treat me as if I were special, and I fell for it. Dammit, he isn’t even who he says he is, and he’s coming here on Wednesday. That’s only four days away. How am I supposed to act? What am I supposed to say?”

Wylie stared at Lucy, a helpless look on his face. “I guess the agents will tell you what to do and what to say. I can make a pest of myself if that will help.”

“There’s one other thing, Wylie. I probably should have told you earlier, but I didn’t know you. I don’t mean that I know you now…this isn’t coming out right. Look, I didn’t exactly lie. I just didn’t…what I didn’t do was…you
do
know me. You prosecuted a case in which I was the defendant’s attorney. I’m Lucille Baker, not Baycur. Rachel Muller has a strong accent and pronounces my name wrong. Please, don’t hold that against me. I moved here to New Jersey because I was burned out. I needed to fall back and regroup. People as a rule have a very jaded opinion of lawyers. I didn’t want anyone to know what I did. We can talk it to death, but I would prefer not to.”

Wylie slapped at his forehead. “I knew I knew you. You look different. Didn’t you have very short red hair back then? Man, you were hell on wheels in that courtroom. I almost didn’t mind losing to you. I did, but it was a pleasure watching you strut yourself. You just walked away, eh? Just like that.”

“Yes, just like that. And now this. You aren’t angry with me, are you?”

“Nah. I understand. I have six sisters. I know how women think and act. Are you giving up the law altogether? What’s your feeling now about the guy you were going to marry?” He hoped his voice sounded casual.

“No, I’m not giving up the law. I was just thinking the other day about how bored I was. I’ll probably go back to the office after the first of the year. If I’m not in jail, that is. As for Jonathan…I don’t know how I feel about him—aside from angry. It’s over, that’s for sure. Will I pine away for him? I doubt it. I thought I was in love with him. Maybe I was in love with the idea of love.”

Her voice was so pitiful-sounding, Wylie grinned. He knew all about that. His mother was forever telling him stories about his sisters and the bums they were going out with. Fear of becoming old maids, she’d said. He needed to say something to wipe away the awful look on his neighbor’s face. “I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, Lucy. How much do you think you can get for your gown on eBay? I have a bunch of junk I’m thinking of selling,” Wylie added, his curiosity aroused.

Lucy burst out laughing. Wylie joined in at his own expense.

She’s free. Maybe that means I have a shot. Been a long time since I met anyone I like half as much. We have a lot in common, we’re both lawyers, even though I said I would never again marry a lawyer. She loves my dog. That might be a plus.
Lucy lowered her gaze to her lap. There was no way she wanted Wylie to know she was hearing his thoughts. Especially thoughts like these.

“You aren’t reading my mind, are you?” Wylie asked uneasily.

Lucy shook her head. “I think I’m going to go to bed. Tomorrow I’m going to drive to Rutgers and use their library. I want to read up on what’s going on inside my head. You’re welcome to come along.”

“Well, sure. Good night, Lucy. I can make us eggs Benedict in the morning to earn my keep if that’s okay with you.”

“It’s very okay with me. I love eggs Benedict.”

•   •   •

“Oooh, it’s so beautiful,” Lucy gasped as she walked over to the sliding doors to let the dogs out into the yard. “I can’t believe it snowed five inches during the night. Before Thanksgiving no less. It looks just like a winter wonderland. The dogs are having so much fun.” She watched as both dogs raced the length, then the width of the yard, barking and yelping at the strange phenomenon.

Wylie chuckled at Lucy’s exuberant tone as he, too, looked out the kitchen window at the cavorting dogs. He looked up when Lucy entered the kitchen. She looked surprised at what she was seeing. “I borrowed your apron since I’m a sloppy cook. I went home earlier to shower and shave and to turn up my heat. I’ve been up since five o’clock. Did you sleep well?”

Lucy sat down at the table. Wylie looked so at home in the kitchen.
Her
kitchen. Jonathan had an aversion to kitchens. She couldn’t ever remember if he’d set foot in the kitchen of her brownstone when she’d lived in New York. Most times she’d brought him a cup of coffee or a drink. She’d never cooked for him, though. Thanksgiving would be the first time.

“I hope this tastes as good as it looks,” Lucy said, unfolding her napkin. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, Wylie. But, to answer your question, I slept soundly.”

Wylie raked his fingers through his unruly hair. He squinted at his neighbor, a suspicious look on his face. “You are not taking advantage of me. I’m glad I can help. I haven’t had this much excitement since I broke my ankle. That was six years ago. You aren’t reading my mind, are you?”

“No, I’m not. I wish I could explain how it works, Wylie. Right now I can hear a jumble of voices. There’s nothing clear, nothing distinct. Once in a while a clear word will surface, but it has no meaning. I guess right now it’s because all the neighbors are outside shoveling snow and talking to one another. Are you thinking now?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you want me to call my friend at Duke. You didn’t answer me when I asked you yesterday. Are we still on for the Rutgers library?”

“I am if you are. You have four-wheel drive, right? Let’s see what we come up with at the library, if anything, before you call him.”

Lucy was clearing the table when the phone rang. She looked at Wylie, who was on his way out to clear her driveway with his snowblower, and he looked at her. He shrugged. Lucy saw him wince when she said, “Oh, Jonathan, I wasn’t expecting your call.”

Wylie’s face darkened as he used his index finger to offer up a salute.

“Lucy, are you there?” Jonathan’s voice was sharp. “Did you hear a word I said?”

“No, Jonathan, I did not hear what you said,” Lucy responded coolly. “We had a snowstorm last night, and your voice keeps fading in and out. Wet wires, I assume.” Her voice was even cooler when she said, “What did you say?”

“I said, I’m not going to be able to join you for Thanksgiving after all. I called to apologize.”

The relief Lucy felt was immeasurable. “Perhaps that’s a good thing, Jonathan. I think I’m coming down with the flu. It seems everyone in the neighborhood has it. My brother will probably come here and bring dinner with him. Is there anything else?”

“You sound like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

The chuckle on the other end of the phone didn’t sound sincere to Lucy’s ears.

“No, no, Jonathan. I know how busy you are. I was looking forward to seeing you,” she lied. She wondered if her tongue would fall out. When she was a kid her mother had scared the daylights out of her and Steven. She’d told them their tongues would fall out if they told a lie or even a little fib. Lucy remembered walking around with a mirror in her pocket to make sure her tongue was still there.

“I really miss you. I hate this traveling. I can’t wait till we get married so I can cut back. Eat an extra slice of turkey for me, sweetheart. I have to run now. I love you, darling.”

Lucy didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she pressed her finger down to break the connection. There was no way in hell she was going to tell Jonathan St. Clair she loved him. No way in hell. Right now, right this very minute, she hated the suave, sophisticated man she was supposed to marry. The most she could say about him was that he was decent in bed. Not great but okay. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew that Wylie would be spectacular between the sheets. Her body grew warm at the thought. She chastised herself immediately. She’d just met the man, for heaven’s sake, and here she was thinking about how he’d perform in bed. Better not to think about things like that. Her life was messed up enough at the moment without adding Wylie to the mix.

•   •   •

The ride down Route 27 with Wylie driving his Land Rover was mostly spent talking about the weather, snowplows, and the newscast predicting even more snow later in the day. “Not to worry, Lucy, this baby can handle anything,” Wylie said confidently referring to his Rover. “I hope we’re still on for Japanese this evening.” He took his eyes off the road for a minute to look across at his companion. She looked wonderful this morning, dressed in a sky-blue winter jacket with matching wool slacks. A snow-white wool hat covered her hair. He liked the way little tendrils escaped by her ears.

“I’m looking forward to it. So, you really like driving a truck like this?”

“Absolutely. The gas mileage isn’t that great, but I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s five years old. My friend, the one I was telling you about who works at Duke, has the big Range Rover. Of course he needs it, with four kids. He loves to go four-wheeling with his family. Jake is my best friend. We’ve known each other since our college days, when we were in the same fraternity. Do you have a best friend?”