Chapter 4
The first postcard arrived in the next day's post. Seth was idly flipping through the mail. He examined one of several seed catalogs that arrived; he smiled. Jess was an optimistic gardener at best. The postcard fluttered to the kitchen floor. Seth groaned as he reached down to retrieve it. Definitely time to resurrect his daily exercise habit. He would never want Jessica to see or hear that. Without thinking, he turned over the postcard and read.
Mrs. Fletcher
Dr. Seth Hazlitt
698 Candlewood Lane
Cabot Cove, Maine, 03041
Greetings, Mrs. Fletcher! And to you, Dr. Hazlitt! It's so very kind of you to look after Jessica's home while she's away. Life is more meaningful and more pleasurable when it's shared with friends. Wouldn't you agree? Mrs. Fletcher, I hope to see you again soon, and Dr. Hazlitt, I'd be honored to meet such a dear friend of our beloved Jess.
Regards,
David
"That arrogant young pup," growled Seth.
"You were saying, Doc?"
Seth jumped. He'd been so engrossed in David's message that he hadn't heard Eve come in. "What are you doing here?"
"I might ask the same of you," she said coolly. "If I didn't know already. Have you fed Jessica's bird yet?"
"Not yet," replied Seth testily as he tried and failed to hide the postcard.
"What's that?"
"Just some mail. Nothing important."
"Sure looks important, judging from the way you're grasping it."
Seth forced his hand to relax. "It's just a postcard for Jess. From a friend," he added unnecessarily.
"Oh. A friend of hers came to town just a few days ago."
Seth looked at Eve sharply. "Who?"
"A very attractive young man named David Tolliver." Eve looked at Seth. "What's wrong?"
"Not a thing, Eve. When was he here exactly? What day?"
"It must have been Tuesday. Why do you ask? What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on. I just wanted to be able to let Jessica know next time she calls."
"Hmmph," said Eve as she sauntered through the kitchen and into the living room. "I keep telling Jessica she ought to sell this drafty old barn." Eve studied the ceiling. She could have sworn Frank mentioned a leak a few years back. "She could spend time with friends, travel more freely."
Seth held on to his temper, barely. He knew Eve was just pushing his buttons, hoping he would explode and spill the beans on young David. "That might be just the thing for her," he said smoothly.
Eve turned, eyebrows raised. "But what about you? What would you do, Doc? Without Jessica, I mean."
"Who knows? I might pull up stakes, too. Might be nice to do a little traveling."
"Are you saying that—"
Seth took the opportunity to grasp Eve's elbow and steer her to the front door, which he opened smoothly, then neatly deposited her on the front step. "I'm only saying that I might like to travel, too. Good day, Miz Simpson!" and he shut the door in her face. He could hear her disgruntled remarks as she walked to her car. He locked the door, then rummaged for the postcard. He sighed as he felt it in his jacket pocket.
He hoped in equal measure that Jessica would and would not call him tonight.
Jessica spent an anxious night in Philadelphia and was unusually brusque with Susan. The poor girl was now actively trying to stay out of Jessica's way, and for once, Jess was truly grateful for the solitude.
The book signing had gone well, in spite of Jessica's mood. She managed to be cordial to her fans, but Susan noticed that the typical interest she paid in the lives of those who stood in line for her signature was lacking. In fact, JB's usually laser-like focus was scattered. She was inattentive, often had to be nudged out of reveries. She looked bleary-eyed, as though she hadn't slept in days. Even her appearance was mildly different. She tended to accessorize according to the city she was visiting…some interesting piece of jewelry or a unique scarf. Today, her attire was almost nunlike. Unlike some of her other authors, JB was sensitive and kind. She made Susan feel important, almost like a friend. She enjoyed arranging events for JB and always tried to ensure that handsome, eligible men were in attendance. She noticed that although something of a flirt, JB kept a pretty high wall around her. Occasionally, JB would mention her friend Dr. Hazlitt, Seth, from Cabot Cove, and Susan noticed a slight gleam in her eye. She wondered, she was almost desperately curious, but she never had the nerve to ask. She had a feeling JB would retreat into that frosty patrician facade she'd witnessed from time to time. Certain topics were off limits, and Dr. Seth Hazlitt was number one on that list.
Jessica picked up the phone automatically, and for a foolish moment, she thought perhaps it might be Seth. Ridiculous, she thought as she lifted the receiver. You never give him a way to reach you when you're on the road.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Mrs. Fletcher." Jessica froze for a moment. "It's David, Mrs. Fletcher. David Tolliver. From Seattle."
"David?" she repeated dumbly.
"Are you surprised to hear from me?"
Jessica bit back the instinctive retort that bubbled to the surface. Stay calm, Jessica. You can get something for Seth if you just stay calm. "I am," she said and drew in a quiet, deep breath. "I didn't expect to hear from you again."
"How can you say that?" teased David. "I read your book."
"Oh?"
"Oh indeed. It's making quite a splash, Mrs. Fletcher. Quite a departure from your standard fare. And, I must admit, a departure from the notes I was in the process of typing up in Seattle. Tell me. When did I become the inspiration for Ambrose Pierce?"
Jessica recovered her wits and retreated into her chilly JB Fletcher persona. "I wasn't aware that you were."
"Come now, Mrs. Fletcher. Don't be coy. We both know the truth."
"And what is that?"
"There was an attraction between us."
Jessica scoffed. "Hardly. David, you're young enough to be my son."
"A meaningless distinction. Besides, you weren't able to have children."
Jessica started. "How did you know that?"
"I know quite a lot about you, Mrs. Fletcher. Quite a lot."
"David, where are you?"
"I see I've got your attention now. Good. I'm just a poor, humble grad student, Mrs. Fletcher, doomed to be enticed by attractive, wealthy, mature women. I couldn't possibly be in DC."
"How did you know I was here?"
"I told you, Mrs. Fletcher. I know quite a lot about you. I'll be in touch."
Jessica listened to the dial tone for a long moment, then slowly placed the receiver back in its cradle. "You know quite a lot about me, but I'm starting to learn more about you, David," she murmured.
"Hello?"
"I'm so glad I reached you."
"What is it, Jess? Are you alright? Is it David?"
"I'm alright, Seth. I'm alright. He just phoned me."
"He phoned your hotel? You just got there. How did he know how to reach you?"
"I don't know. He was rather cagey and…flirtatious," she admitted reluctantly.
"What did he say?"
Jess was quiet for a moment. "He knew I couldn't have children." She heard Seth's sharp breath.
Seth felt a sharp tug of anger. "He said that to you? Why? What was the context?"
"He claimed there was an attraction between us." This was excruciating. "A claim I refuted by reminding him I was old enough to be his mother."
Seth swallowed. That malevolent bastard. "I see," he said circumspectly.
"Seth, I wasn't…I didn't…that is to say, we were never—"
"It's alright, Jess. I understand."
"Do you?"
Seth sighed. "Yes, woman, I think I do. Though I wonder if you do."
"What do you mean?" asked Jessica sharply.
"Age is a funny thing. Some days I feel every bit of my 58 years, but others…well, I don't feel I've changed at all. We're older, Jess, but we aren't dead. We have feelings, urges, attractions. They don't make us any less admirable; they only remind us that we're human."
He could hear Jessica's breathing, which sounded fast, almost shallow. "This is excruciating, Seth. I'm an adult, a grown woman. I've been alive for over half a century. Why should I continuously be accused of being attracted to David Tolliver? Don't you think I know my own mind?"
"Of course I do, Jess. I didn't mean to imply anything. I just wanted you to know that I…understand your feelings, whatever they are. I'm your friend, Jess."
Jessica's heart lifted curiously. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Seth. Especially now."
"You won't have to find out. I'm not going anywhere." He let the comfortable silence settle around them for a moment. "I just wish I knew why he's fixated on you. I mean, apart from the obvious."
Jessica's curiosity was sparked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you're an attractive, intelligent woman, a famous, bestselling author whose exploits often appear in the papers or even on the news. Anyone could understand the attraction." Seth paused. This was excruciating. "But it's gone beyond that." He was quiet for a moment. "I wish you could cancel the rest of the tour and come home, but I know that's not possible." Jessica was taken aback. She'd expected Seth to fight her tooth and nail, insisting she come home immediately. "I don't like it, though. I especially don't like the fact that he called you your first night in DC. Is he there?"
"He wouldn't say." They were both quiet, but the silence was comforting to Jessica. She felt easier after confiding in Seth. "Thank you," she said abruptly.
"For what?"
"For understanding. For being such a good friend."
Seth's heart sank. Of course he wanted to be her friend, but he wanted so much more. "You're welcome, woman."
"It's late, Seth. We should both be getting some rest."
"You're right, as usual. Sleep well, Jessica."
"You too, Seth. Good night."
"Good night." Seth held onto the receiver for a long moment. He was glad he hadn't told her about the postcard. It was probably nothing—keep telling yourself that—and he hadn't wanted to add to her worries. He glanced at the clock. It was late, but he knew he wouldn't sleep tonight. He sighed as he placed the phone in its cradle, then poured himself a whiskey and reached for his borrowed copy of the DSM. He had a little more information to go on now. "I'll figure you out, David Tolliver. I'll figure you out and keep you away from Jessica, if it's the last thing I do."
Dr. Seth Hazlitt
Mrs. Fletcher
698 Candlewood Lane
Cabot Cove, Maine, 03041
Greetings redux, Dr. Hazlitt! I hope you don't think I overstepped in my last note. Mother always said I leapt before I looked. So often, though, the thing one leaps towards is so dear, so alluring, that one simply finds himself airborne. Is that how it was for you, Doctor?
Regards,
David
Seth read the note several times, resisting the urge to crumple it in his hands. Any communication from that young man could give them valuable clues into his thoughts and motives. He placed today's card with yesterday's, then opened the 8 x 11 brown envelope from Jessica. He felt his heart slow its beat as he pulled the pages out, row after row of her neat, elegant script, cataloging every scrap of detail she could recall about David Tolliver. He took the papers to the living room and settled into the wing chair. He'd had Beverly cancel his patients this afternoon. He had a bad feeling that things were about to get much more complicated.
"Masak speaking."
"Ron? It's Seth. Seth Hazlitt."
"Seth Hazlitt? Now there's a blast from the past. How are you?"
"I'm well, all things considered, but a friend of mine has got a problem."
Ron came over alert. "It's not like you to make a social call. What kind of a problem?"
Seth hesitated. He didn't want to sound like an hysteric, but David did seem to be almost stalking Jessica. "I'm not sure how to describe it, exactly."
"Well let's start with the basic details. Is this friend male or female?"
"Female."
"And is she young? Old? In between?"
"She's a widow. A young widow."
"How young?"
"She just turned 53."
"I see. And is this 53-year old widow attractive?"
"I don't see what that has to do with anything!"
"I'll take that as a yes. Is this a personal friend?"
"Yes."
"How personal?"
"Just a friend," replied Seth firmly.
Ron grunted. Seth Hazlitt didn't phone in favors—and Ron had a feeling this was definitely a favor—for just any old body. "Well. What seems to be troubling your just a friend?"
"She met a young man, a student, last spring. He's becoming a bit of a nuisance."
"A nuisance?" repeated Ron.
"I know what you're doing, Ron."
"I'm trying to get information out of you, Hazlitt, and you're as tight as the bark on a tree. You called me, remember?"
"I know. I know I did." Seth sighed. "Alright. I'm afraid Jessica's picked up a bit of a stalker."
"I'm sorry…did you say "picked up a bit of a stalker"?"
"Yes," said Seth defensively.
"Nobody just picks up a stalker, Seth. You know that."
"This thing has me rattled, Ron. That's why I called you."
"Well, start at the beginning. I mean the very beginning. Tell me everything you know, whether you witnessed it firsthand or not. I'm not making a court case here; I need to know everything if I'm going to help your friend Jessica."
Seth relayed the story as succinctly as he could. Ron listened, interrupting only to ask pertinent questions. When Seth finished, there was a long silence.
"I don't like this, Seth. I wish you'd told me from the beginning who your friend is." Seth remained silent. "That makes things more complicated."
"You think I don't know that?"
"What are you to her?"
"A friend."
"Nothing more?"
"No."
"What is she to you?"
"That has nothing to do with any of this."
"It has everything to do with it, Seth! This young man knows about you. Knows you by name. Is writing to you directly! What is Jessica to you?"
"Everything," Seth said softly, and Ron swore.
"When does she get home?"
"I'm not sure. She's got another few days in DC I think, then New York for three or four days. Then she promised she'd come straight home."
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea."
"Why not? I can keep an eye on her if she's back in Cabot Cove!"
"You could, yes, but you couldn't watch her every minute. Not even if you wanted to. Doesn't sound like the lady would let you. Or anyone, for that matter," he added hastily. "But I'm not so sure she shouldn't just go home to Cabot Cove," Ron said slowly. "This young man seems to have intimate knowledge of her whereabouts. I'm not sure how he's getting it, and there doesn't seem to be time to find out who's giving it to him. Plus it would be difficult to isolate Jessica enough to get her someplace secure. Maybe," he mused, "maybe the best thing is for her to come back to Cabot Cove."
"That makes sense to me," agreed Seth. He was desperate to have her home, and he would watch her. Every minute, if that's what it took. Every minute. He sighed again.
"You did the right thing, calling me," said Ron. "I'll dig up everything I can on David Tolliver. I've even got a few contacts with some of the local constables. I assume Sheriff Tupper doesn't yet know about this?"
"No, I haven't told him anything."
"Good. No offense, but let's keep it that way for now. He has a little trouble keeping secrets."
"Agreed."
"You'll send me the notes and Jessica's observations?"
"I'll overnight them."
"Good. And Seth?"
"Tell Jessica to be careful. Extra careful."
Seth laughed bitterly. "You think I haven't? But I'll tell her again."
"You, too, Seth. I want you to be careful, too."
"I will, Ron. And thank you."
"You can thank me when this is over. Which it will be. Soon."
Seth felt a rush of affection for his old friend. Jessica would be displeased, but so be it. There wasn't anyone better than Ron Masak on your side.
"How was today's book signing?"
"Hello, David," said Jessica, with a calm that belied her nerves. She'd spoken with Seth earlier in the day, and he'd coached her on what to say and how to say it. Be authoritative, Jess. Think of him as one of your unruly teenage students. I think he'll respond to that. "I think it went well."
"I agree, Mrs. Fletcher. But don't you find them dull? Tedious, even?"
"No, David. I enjoy meeting my readers."
"Your fans."
"Yes. What are you doing here, David?"
"What am I doing where?"
"What are you doing in DC, David? Why are you following my book tour?"
"That's rather presumptuous, isn't it, Mrs. Fletcher?"
"Perhaps it would be, if you weren't delivering handwritten notes, phoning me. What's the meaning of it all?"
"Meaning?"
"You led me to believe that you're a poor graduate student, but travel is expensive, I know. I'll ask you again, David. What is the meaning of all this?"
"You can't deny the connection that's between us, Mrs. Fletcher. I felt it in Seattle, and I know you did as well. It made you uncomfortable. My goal is to make you comfortable."
"To what end, David?" asked Jessica crisply.
"Interesting that you don't deny my assertion of a connection between us. Patience, my dear Mrs. Fletcher. Patience. All will be revealed." He laughed quietly. "For a mystery writer, you certainly are impatient to get to the end." The silence was uncomfortable for Jessica, but she willed herself not to break it.. "But you know what they say, Mrs. Fletcher. It's not the end yet."
Jessica placed the phone carefully in its cradle after David disconnected the call. What had she done to attract the attention of such a…a…determined young man? She sighed, then took the notepad and pen she'd left lying out and began to make notes.
Jess was readying herself for bed when the phone rang. Her heart sank; she knew it would be David, though she longed to speak with Seth and the force of her longing surprised her. This thing with David was beginning to get to her.
She picked up the phone and brought it slowly to her ear. "Hello?"
"Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher? And how does this soft evening find you?"
"I'm well, David, and you?" she replied, careful to keep the fatigue out of her voice.
"I'm quite well, Mrs. Fletcher. Quite well indeed. But you must be tired, no matter how you try to conceal it. Yours is a punishing schedule, even for one as young at heart as you."
"Thank you," she said dryly.
"I certainly meant no disrespect, Mrs. Fletcher. Quite the opposite. I have great respect for you. Sort of like your doctor."
"My doctor?" she said, more sharply than she intended.
David laughed softly. "I say your doctor. I mean your doctor friend, Dr. Hazlitt."
"Yes, he and I are friends."
"Hmm. It must be awfully nice to have such a dependable friend. I've never had that."
"Really, David? I find that hard to believe. You're a very charming, very likeable young man."
"That's kind of you to say, Mrs. Fletcher, but I assure you that's the truth. I've found it very difficult to maintain friendships."
"Why is that, David?"
"Well, you must understand this, Mrs. Fletcher, but you and I, we think differently than most people. We observe in greater detail, we're…deeper, you could say."
"I'm not sure—" began Jessica.
"Mrs. Fletcher, when will you learn to trust me? You and I are kindred spirits. I recognize a great deal of myself in you." Jessica lifted a fervent prayer to heaven that this wasn't the case."But you seem to captivate people and turn them to friends as easily as oxygen feeds a flame. Why is that? You've certainly captivated me," he finished coyly. Jessica felt a bit sick, but she remembered that Seth needed information. Information it seemed only she could provide.
"I'm not entirely certain, David. One can never see oneself completely."
"I don't think that's true, Mrs. Fletcher. I think I see myself precisely as I am."
Jessica felt her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. "But how can you be sure?"
"I had a very reflective mother. And you know what they say, Mrs. Fletcher. It's always the mothers." He chuckled lightly. "I believe I'll ring off now. It's getting late and we both need our rest. Tomorrow is a travel day."
"David, why are you doing this?"
"Because you didn't give me the opportunity in Seattle, Jessica," and the emphasis he placed on her name made her cold. "I've told you we belong together. It's just your legendary stubbornness that's keeping us apart. Mostly. Goodbye for now."
Just as well he hung up, thought Jessica. I'm at a loss for words. As usual, she pulled a notepad and pen toward her and began to write what she could recall of their conversation.
Dr. Seth Hazlitt
Mrs. Fletcher
698 Candlewood Lane
Cabot Cove, Maine, 03041
It's certainly lovely this time of year in Cabot Cove. I had a look-see at your charming village. I'm sure the redoubtable Ms. Simpson has already made you aware. I dropped a few hints her way. I do so enjoy playing the game.
Regards,
David
Dr. Seth Hazlitt
Mrs. Fletcher
698 Candlewood Lane
Cabot Cove, Maine, 03041
May I call you Seth? I feel we've become, if not friendly, then civil, though I do regret our correspondence is one-sided. I am inclined to meet you, if only to tip my cap to the only other man who has intrigued our Jessica.
Regards,
David
Dr. Seth Hazlitt
Mrs. Fletcher
698 Candlewood Lane
Cabot Cove, Maine, 03041
Just a brief missive, Seth, to let you know that we'll be in New York soon. It's a travel day today.
Regards,
David
"Seth?"
"Jessica? How are you?"
"I'm alright. Did you get my notes? I dropped them in the mail before I left DC."
"I have them right here. I've been over 'em a fair few times." He was quiet for a moment. "I know it's not easy, conversing with him, but it really has helped, Jess. I think I understand him a bit better now."
"Do you? I still feel in the dark."
"I'm not fully in the light myself, Jess, but yes, I do think I have a better handle on this young man. He's calculating, shrewd, intelligent—"
"You sound as though you're plumping for him!"
"No indeed, woman! He is those things, though. No use wishing he were less intelligent, for example. We have to know who we're dealing with!"
"I'm sorry, Seth. I'm just…I'm on edge."
"That's understandable, Jess," he soothed. "I ought not be talking shop with you regardless. Besides David, how are you?"
Jessica laughed bitterly. "There is no besides David, Seth. When I'm out, I'm scanning the crowd, watching for him. When I'm in my hotel room, I'm waiting for the inevitable phone call. He's even invaded my dreams!"
"You'll be home soon, Jess. You'll be home and it will be over soon."
"Will it? How? I don't fancy the idea of luring him to Cabot Cove."
He's already been and gone, woman. "You let me worry about that. You just…just take care of yourself, woman," he ended gruffly.
Everything was so muddled, so mixed up, and yet the one true thing in her life right now was Seth. He's always been the one true thing in your life, Jess, ever since you met him. She felt a sudden rush of affection for him, for his care, his love. "I miss you, Seth."
"I miss you, too, Jess," he said quietly. "I know it's selfish, but I miss you when you're away."
She drew in a breath. "I know," she settled on, and she was relieved when he laughed.
"Only a few more days, Jess. I'll pick you up at the airport, a-yuh?"
"I wouldn't know what to do if you didn't!"
"Tell me the details so I can jot them down."
"I fly into Portland on Thursday at noon. Flight 431."
"Flight 431," repeated Seth. "I'll be there, Jess. I'll be there waiting."
"Thank you, Seth. For everything."
He sat in his wing chair holding the phone, simultaneously wanting to shout and weep.
"Admit it Jessica. You're dying to ask whether I took Allison Brevard to bed."
Jessica tried to modulate the disapproval from her voice. "David, I have no interest in the private details of any of your relationships."
"I disagree. I think you're fascinated by me, Jess. May I call you Jess?"
"I prefer Mrs. Fletcher," she said coolly.
"Alright, Mrs. Fletcher. I must apologize, because I was raised to honor the precept that the lady is always right, but I must disagree. Vociferously. I think you do want to know."
"You're wrong, David."
"Then why do you accept my calls? Why are we speaking right now?"
"Because I am interested in you, David. Just not in the way you think."
"And what way is that?" he asked flirtatiously.
"Sexually," said Jessica.
For a moment, all Jessica could hear was the sound of David's breath. Then he began to laugh uproariously. "Oh, Jessica. Excuse me—Mrs. Fletcher." He laughed again. "Oh my. That's one of the many things I admire about you. Your directness. You don't beat about the bush, do you?"
"I dislike prevarication, David. I dislike lying."
"Then why do you do it?"
"I'm not aware that I am."
"Oh, I think you are Jes—Mrs. Fletcher. I most definitely think you are."
Intrigued in spite of herself, she asked him. "In what way?"
"It's nothing to do with me, though I dearly wish it were. No, your prevaricating is in quite another corner."
"David, stop teasing and say what you mean."
"Now, Jessica. Where's the fun in that?"
She stood for a long moment, the phone cradled in her hand, listening to the disconnect tone and wondering, fearing, what or whom David might have been referring to.