Page 82 of Open Season

TWENTY-THREE

Nadine hesitated in the doorway of Temple’s office, her indecision plain on her face. He looked up, irritated. He’d been on edge all day, waiting to hear from Sykes, wondering if he’d already accomplished the mission. The phone call from Mr. Phillips hadn’t been a joy, either. People who disappointed or ran afoul of Elton Phillips wound up dead. If Sykes didn’t succeed this time, Temple knew he’d have to do something to placate Phillips. Kill Sykes, maybe. The prospect of killing Sykes worried him, because Glenn Sykes wasn’t a fool and he wouldn’t be an easy man to kill.

Nadine still lingered in the doorway and Temple snapped, “For God’s sake, Nadine, what is it?”

She looked taken aback at his unusual irritability. Temple almost never let himself show temper; it wasn’t good for the image. Today, though, he had other things besides his damn image to worry about.

Nadine wrung her hands. “I’ve never said anything before. I think people’s private lives are just that, private. But I think you should know what Mrs. Nolan did today.”

Jesus, not now. Temple covered his eyes, massaging the ache that ran under his eyebrows. “Jennifer has . . . problems,” he managed to say, the way he had so many times in the past when he wanted to elicit sympathy. It was his pat answer, one he didn’t have to think about.

“Yes, sir, I know.”

When she didn’t continue, Temple sighed, realizing he’d have to prompt her rather than say what he really wanted to say—that he didn’t give a good goddamn what the bitch did, he hoped she’d T-boned a power pole and killed herself.

“What has she done this time?” That was another pat response, showing his patience and weariness.

Now that he had asked, Nadine spat the words out as if she couldn’t hold them in any longer. “She called the library and told Kendra Owens you were trying to have Daisy Minor killed.”

“What?”Temple shot up from his chair, color leeching out of his face. His knees wobbled in shock, and he had to grab the edge of his desk. My God. Oh, my God. He remembered the sudden uneasy feeling he’d had this morning, the one that had made him check to see what Jennifer was doing. The bitch had been listening in on her bedroom extension. Mr. Phillips would kill him. Literally.

“Kendra didn’t take her seriously, of course, but she was worried in case Mrs. Nolan did something, you know, sort of foolish, so she called the police department and reported it.”

“The fucking bitch!” Temple said fiercely, and he didn’t know if he meant Jennifer or Kendra, or both.

Nadine stepped back, more than a little affronted by his language. “I thought you ought to know,” she said stiffly, and closed the connecting door with a bang.

With a shaking hand Temple picked up his private line and called Sykes’s number. After the sixth ring, he replaced the receiver. Sykes wasn’t at home, of course; he was waiting to follow Daisy home from work. After Jennifer’s stupid call, if Daisy had disappeared after lunch, the police department would have been on full alert, hunting for her, so the lack of action meant nothing had happened yet. He had to find Sykes and tell him to call off the whole thing. If anything happened to Daisy now, he, Temple, would be number one on the list of suspects.

Something had to be done about Jennifer. With her drinking history, though, it would be easy to set up an “accident.” Bash her in the head, run her car into the river, and be done with it.

But not right away. Anything done right now would be too suspicious. They couldn’t do anything to jeopardize the shipment of Russians.

First thing, though, he had to mend fences with Nadine. It wouldn’t do to have her bad-mouthing him to her little circle of friends. Gossip like that had a way of spreading like kudzu vines.

He opened the door, mustered the charm, and said, “I’m sorry, Nadine. I had no right using language like that. Jennifer and I had an argument this morning, and I’m still on edge. Then to find out she did something like that...” He let his shoulders slump.

Nadine’s expression softened a little. “That’s all right. I understand.”

He rubbed his forehead again. “Was Daisy upset when Kendra told her about the call?”

“Daisy isn’t working today. Her mother called in and said she had a toothache. I have my own suspicions, but that’s the story.” She waggled her eyebrows, looking arch.

Nadine should never try to look arch, Temple thought; she resembled a flirtatious frog. “What do you mean, ‘suspicions’?”

“About where she is. Well, I don’t know where she is, but I doubt she has a toothache.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I had to call over to the police department right before lunch, and Eva Fay said Chief Russo hadn’t been in all day either.”

The throb behind Temple’s eyebrows worsened. “What does that have to do with Daisy?”

“You mean you haven’t heard? They’re seeing each other.” For Nadine her satisfaction at being the first to impart this news more than made up for his rudeness and bad language.

Temple felt as if he’d been hit between the eyes with a two-by-four. “What? Seeing each other?” He could barely say the words, the shock was so great. Disaster yawned at his feet.

“Barbara Clud said they bought—well, they bought intimate articles together. Chief Russo sat with her at church on Sunday, too.”

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