the uglier furniture. Probably after his mother died. I don’t think that would’ve been allowed until Elizabeth drew her last breath.”
“Where did you and Jonathan meet?” Caleb asked. She ignored this question. “He might’ve mentioned your name, but I don’t know what it is,” he persisted, drawing a warning look from Stone.
“Susan Farmer. We met out West.”
“Did you marry out there as well?” Stone interjected.
He was very impressed because she didn’t even flinch. But she didn’t answer him either.
Stone decided to play his ace. He pulled the photo out of his pocket. “We were told that Jonathan’s marriage had been annulled. Since you don’t like people making assumptions, I’m deducing from your tone about Elizabeth DeHaven that she was the instigator of that action. He kept this photo. The woman bears a remarkable likeness to you. My experience is that men don’t keep photos of women for just any reason. I think your case was special.”
He handed the photo over to her. This time he got a reaction. As Annabelle took the picture, her hand, rock-steady all these years, shook a bit, and her eyes opened a smidgen wider and appeared a little moist. She said wistfully, “Jonathan was a very handsome man. Tall, thick brown hair and eyes that just made you feel good about yourself.”
“And can I say you’re as lovely now as you were then,” Reuben added magnanimously, edging closer to her.
Annabelle didn’t seem to have heard Reuben. She did something she hadn’t done in a long time: She smiled, genuinely. “This was taken on the day of our wedding. It was my first, and only, marriage.”
“Where were you married?” Caleb asked.
“Vegas—where else?” she said, her gaze holding fast on the photo. “Jonathan was in town for a book convention. We hooked up, hit it off and were married. All in a week’s time. Pretty crazy, I know. At least that’s how his mother saw it.” She ran her finger along Jonathan’s frozen smile. “But we were happy. For a time anyway. We even lived here for a while with his parents after we were married, until we found a place to live.”
“Well, it is quite a large house,” Caleb said.
“Funny, it seemed far too small back then,” she remarked dryly.
“Were you out in Vegas for the book convention too?” Stone asked politely.
She handed the photo back, and Stone put it back in his jacket pocket. “Do you really need an answer to that question?”
“All right. Have you been in contact with Jonathan over the years?”
“And why would I need to tell you if I had?”
“And there’s no reason for you to,” Reuben piped in, scowling at Stone. “In fact, that’s getting a little personal.”
Stone was obviously put out by his smitten friend’s traitorous comment but said, “We’re doing our best to figure out what happened to Jonathan, and we need as much help as we can get.”
“His heart stopped beating and he died. Is it that unusual?”
Milton explained, “The medical examiner apparently couldn’t determine the cause of death. And Jonathan had just had a full cardio checkup at Johns Hopkins. He didn’t have a heart attack or anything else, apparently.”
“So you think someone killed him? Who could possibly have a problem with Jonathan? He was a librarian.”
“It’s not like librarians don’t have enemies,” Caleb said defensively. “Indeed, I’ve been around some colleagues who can get pretty mean-spirited after they’ve had a few glasses of merlot.”
She looked at him incredulously. “Yeah, I bet. But no one’s going to pop someone because they got fined for an overdue book.”
“Let me show you something,” Stone said. “It’s up in the attic.”
When they arrived there, Stone said, “That telescope is pointed toward the house next door.”
Reuben added, “Yeah, it was looking into the owner’s bed—”
Stone cut in. “I’ll explain, Reuben, if you don’t mind.” He raised his eyebrows and glanced at Annabelle.
Reuben said, “Oh, right. Yeah, go ahead and explain, Oliv—I mean, it was Frank, right? Or Steve?”
“Thank you, Reuben!” Stone snapped. “As I said, the telescope is pointed at the house next door. It’s owned by the head of Paradigm Technologies, one of the largest defense contractors in the country. The man’s name is Cornelius Behan.”
“He likes to be called CB,” Caleb added.
“Okay,” Annabelle said slowly.
Stone looked through the telescope, sweeping his gaze along the side of Behan’s house, which stood across a sliver of grass from DeHaven’s. “I thought so.” He motioned for Annabelle to take his place. She focused the telescope’s eyepiece on the spot where he’d been looking.
“It’s an office or a study,” she reported.
“That’s right.”
“You think Jonathan was spying on this guy?”
“Perhaps. Or he might have inadvertently seen something that led to his death.”
“So this Cornelius Behan killed Jonathan?”
“We have no proof. But strange things have been happening.”
“Like what?”
Stone hesitated. He had no intention of telling her about his being kidnapped. “Let’s just say that there’re enough questions here to make us look further. I think Jonathan DeHaven deserves that.”
Annabelle studied him for a moment and then took another look through the telescope. “Tell me about this CB guy.”
Stone briefly gave her a sketch of Behan and his company. Next he mentioned the murder of the Speaker of the House, Bob Bradley.
Annabelle again looked skeptical. “You don’t think that’s connected to Jonathan? I thought terrorists had claimed responsibility.”
Stone told her about the military contracts that Behan had won under the old regime. “Bradley’s predecessor as Speaker had been convicted of unethical practices, so it’s not a stretch to speculate that he might have been in Behan’s pocket. And then Bradley comes along as Mr. Clean, and Behan might not have wanted certain things to be investigated. So Bradley had to die.”
“And you’re thinking that Jonathan stumbled on this conspiracy, and they had to kill him before he could tell anyone?” She still sounded unconvinced, but not as much.
“What we have are two unsolved deaths of government people with Cornelius Behan as a common denominator and a neighbor of one of the dead men.”
Caleb added, “Behan was at the funeral today.”
Annabelle said sharply, “Which one was he?”
“Little redheaded guy—”
Annabelle finished for him, “Who thinks way too much of himself and had the tall bottle-blond wife who despises him.”
Stone looked impressed. “You sum people up quickly.”
“I’ve always seen an advantage in it. Okay, what’s our next move?”
Stone looked startled. “Our next move?”
“Yeah, once you give me a crash course on the info you’re obviously holding back, maybe we can make some real headway.”
“Miss Farmer,” Stone began.
“Just call me Susan.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to be in town long.”
“Change of plan.”
“Can I ask why?”
“You can ask. Can we meet tomorrow morning?”
“Absolutely,” Reuben said. “And if you need a place to bunk—”
“I don’t,” she said.
“We can meet at my house,” Stone suggested.
“Where’s that?” she asked.
“At a cemetery,” Milton said helpfully.
Annabelle didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Stone wrote down the address and directions. When she went to take it from him, she stumbled and fell against him, grabbing on to his jacket to keep from falling.