small, sleek woman entered the kitchen, and Julia introduced her. “Another of our guests. This is RJ Katz.”
She looked like a cat with a button nose, a tiny mouth and wide, suspicious eyes. As Paul shook her thin hand, he asked, “Where are you from?”
“I travel a lot.”
That was an evasive answer if he’d ever heard one. “Business or pleasure?”
“Both.”
Just like a cat. Snooty, cool and independent. When RJ Katz sidled toward the fridge, he half expected to see her take out a bowl of cream and lap it up with her tongue.
If the car crash of John Maser turned out to be something more than an accident, Paul would put RJ at the head of his suspect list. “I need to see your driver’s license, Ms. Katz.”
“It’s in my purse. In my room.” She popped the tab on a cola and took a sip. “What’s this about?”
Paul explained about the car accident and the victim from Washington, D.C. He watched for her reaction when he mentioned the name John Maser.
She was unruffled. “Don’t know him.”
“I’d still like to see your license.”
“I suppose you’re wondering if I live near D.C. Well, I do. My address is Alexandria, Virginia. But I assure you, Deputy, I don’t know your victim.”
There was a lot more he wanted to ask, but Paul had promised Julia that he wouldn’t harass her guests. “Enjoy your stay.”
Before they left the kitchen, Julia directed a question toward RJ Katz. “Do you know if David is in his room?”
“He’s in the basement,” she said, “playing with his precious computer.”
“I’d appreciate if you asked him to come up here and speak with the deputy. So we don’t have to go downstairs.”
An unspoken communication passed between the two women, but Paul couldn’t guess why. He was beginning to think that something strange was going on at this rustic little resort. There was the cook with a shoulder holster. And the feline Ms. Katz who seemed determined to hide her identity. And, of course, a general who gunned down jackrabbits from the porch.
When Paul first arrived, he had noticed three satellite dishes that might be for extra-fine television reception or for some other kind of communication. Clearly, he needed more information about Julia and the lodge.
She led him through the dining room to the front area where a cheery fire burned in the moss rock fireplace. Comfortable was the first word that popped into his head. The sturdy leather sofas and chairs looked big enough to sink into and relax. “Nice,” he said. “I could see myself sitting in that big chair on a Sunday afternoon watching the football game.”
“How about those Broncos?”
“Are you a fan?”
“Actually, I prefer hockey.”
“Me, too.”
Damn, he liked this woman. He really hoped there was nothing sinister going on here.
She stepped in front of him and looked him directly in the eye. “I want to level with you, Paul.”
“Go ahead.”
“All five of my guests are from the Washington, D.C., area. They’re here for a retreat and meetings.”
The presence of the high-profile general who appeared on talk shows suggested a topic for those meetings. “Something political.”
“I really shouldn’t say.”
“What you’re telling me is that any one of your guests might be acquainted with the man who was killed.”
“Yes,” she said.
Paul was sure that if they knew anything about the death of John Maser, these people wouldn’t be forthcoming with information. More in-depth questioning and investigation was necessary. He needed to verify their alibis and arrival times.
On the other hand, he might be bothering these people for no reason at all. John Maser might have died as a result of careless driving. Nothing more.
After the autopsy, Paul would have a better indi-cation of foul play. Right now, his only evidence was the whispered word of the dying man who might have been out of his head. Murder.
“I have a thought,” Julia said. “It’s almost time for dinner, and everybody will be gathered in one place. You can talk to all of them at the same time.”
Not a great idea from the aspect of police procedure. One-on-one questioning was a more effective tool. But this wasn’t really an investigation. Not yet anyway. “Fine with me.”
This time Julia held the front door open for him. “After you.”
He stepped onto the covered porch that stretched all the way across the front of the lodge. From this vantage point, there was a clear view of the gravel drive leading up to the lodge and the vehicles that were parked in the front, including a Hummer that probably belonged to the general.
He sat in one of the rocking chairs, and Julia climbed onto the porch swing. She didn’t speak right away, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. He liked her self-assurance—a maturity that didn’t require the constant chatter that filled his house when his girls got revved. “How do you feel about kids, Julia?”
“Love them.” Her face lit up. “My one regret about living here is that I don’t get to spend more time with my niece and nephew back in Wisconsin. They’re practically teenagers now.”
“I have two daughters. Seven and nine.”
“They must keep your wife busy.”
“Not so you’d notice. My ex-wife left a long time ago. I guess we didn’t have much in common.” Not like you and me, he wanted to add.
“Raising two little girls on your own must be hard.”
The way she looked at him, giving him her full attention, made Paul feel like spilling his guts. He wanted to tell her about how frustrated he got when the girls burst into tears for no reason he could understand. Or how confused he was when they changed clothes five times before walking out the door. He wanted to tell Julia about the feeling of sheer happiness when one of the girls hopped onto his lap and told him he was the best daddy in the world.
Julia’s smile encouraged him, and he wanted to tell her everything, wanted to hear her laugh. Or maybe he just wanted to sit here on the porch and watch as the last rays of sunset tangled in her thick, curly hair. His gaze stuck on her lips, and his thoughts turned toward kisses. Caresses. Making love in the afternoon.
“What are their names?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Your kids.”
“Jennifer and Lily.” His
