Read Online Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_03 by Death in Lovers' Lane - Free Book Online Page B

engrossed. The coffee area was set off from the bar and the main dining area by potted tea palms, which added an incongruous but charming 1920s aura. To our right was a sea of rustic wooden tables with red-and-white-checked cloths. Booths lined the walls.
    We settled at a table with a good view in all directions and ordered salads, southwestern chicken pizza, and iced tea.
    Helen has a long face and puffy crescents under coal-black eyes. She not only looks like a bloodhound, she’ll stick with a story through swamp, field, and forest, baying her findings in a piercing voice. Moreover, Helen knows all the whispered scandals that are never printed, and one of her primary pleasures in life is sharing the unprintable with anyone who will listen.
    All I had to do was murmur, “The Rosen-Voss case…”
    And Helen was loping down the long-ago trail. “… never made any sense, Henrie O! For starters, Lovers’ Lane!” She peered at me from beneathfrizzy, silver-streaked bangs, her mobile face miming incredulity. “I mean, this was 1988, not 1958!”
    Helen vigorously swirled her teaspoon in her mint-sprigged glass. “ He had an apartment. She had an apartment.”
    I knew Helen meant Howard Rosen and Gail Voss.
    â€œOh, they had roommates. But these were upscale kids. Everybody had his or her own room. So, we’re supposed to believe Howard and Gail were having backseat romance in his car! I told everybody, No way, José . But do the cops ask me?” She shrugged and grabbed a breadstick.
    â€œWere they dressed?” I took one, too. Hot, garlicky, good.
    â€œFully.” Once again her tone was scathing. “You’d think anybody would see how weird this was. What were they doing there? Why were they there? Lovers’ Lane, give me a break.” She took a big bite of breadstick. “But Dennis went right ahead and played the story with the Lovers’ Lane angle. I told him, Sweetheart, this is baloney ! Of course”—and she rolled those mournful eyes, “Dennis is still into backseats with willing coeds. The Flamingo costs a buck.”
    Helen thought Dennis was too tight to spring for a motel room. Did that mean he knew Lovers’ Lane very well indeed?
    The waiter brought our salads. Mine was a Caesar with strips of anchovies.
    â€œSo you think it’s strange Howard and Gail were in Lovers’ Lane?”
    Helen speared a radish slice. “Real strange. Weird,” she said again. “Phony. I don’t know”—she squeezed her face like a quiz show contestant—“like it was staged.”
    But I scarcely heard. I’d had a thought, and it was ugly. “Helen, was Dennis after Gail Voss?”
    â€œOh, Dennis, stud man of the newsroom.” Her eyes widened, then glinted with interest. She reached out and grabbed my arm. “Speak of the devil!”
    I craned to see.
    Dennis Duffy, head down, walked heavily toward the bar. He slid onto a stool. His back was to us. He slumped against the counter, despair in every sagging line of his body.
    â€œIf you sit here long enough,” Helen murmured cheerfully, “you’ll see everyone you’ve ever known.”
    I gave her a swift glance. As far as Helen was concerned, it obviously wasn’t Feel-Sorry-for-Dennis Week.
    She chattered on, her voice light. “Even Dennis probably wasn’t clod enough to go after a girl like Gail. I mean, who’s to say he didn’t lust. But Gail was a lovely girl, really sweet. Not a backseat type for anybody. And she was crazy about Howard. Nuts about him. I’ll tell you”—Helen swallowed—“Howard and Gail were two nice kids. And according to my students, it was just silly to even ask if they had enemies. What normal, nice college students have enemies ? They didn’t have enemies. Oh, one of the girls told me Gail’s brother didn’t want her to marry Howard. Said he