Ian looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t like it.”
“Do you think there’s really anything to worry about? The note doesn’t include any actual threat.”
“No, I suppose not, but it just doesn’t seem like something one of our people would do as a joke.” He reached across the desk for her hand. “I want you to let me talk to the police chief about this.”
She hoped he didn’t feel the little shiver that ran through her. “You—you don’t think it’s that serious, do you?”
Laughing, he patted her hand and then released it. “Not serious enough for you to get worried about, OK? I just want to see what he says. Doesn’t have to be anything official. If it’s somebody we know who suddenly thinks he’s a comedian or something, we can quietly put a stop to it. How’s that?”
“Yeah, I suppose that would be the best way to handle it. Do you know someone who could look into it without making it a federal case?”
“Do I know someone? I’m a politician, remember?”
Annie beamed at him. “You’re a good friend too. Thank you.”
“Chief Edwards is just down the hall. I’ll ask him about it and let you know.” He raised one eyebrow. “You and Alice might have to have your fingerprints taken.”
“That really would give folks something to talk about.”
She stood up, and he followed suit.
“I’ll let you know what I find out. You, um … I was thinking of going over to the Fish House for lunch in a little while. You want to come?”
That guileless charm was hard to resist, especially when combined with those rugged good looks. No wonder the voters loved him.
She squeezed his hand. “Give me a rain check, will you? I have a million things to do today. I have to go over to Malone’s to pick out some paint colors first of all.”
“More remodeling?”
“I want Wally Carson to work on my upstairs bathroom when he gets a chance. Though I guess I could get that other guy, Tom Maxwell, but I don’t know anything about him.”
“I’ve met Tom a time or two. Seems all right to me. He and his wife Sandy keep to themselves pretty much though, and I think most of the work he gets is outside town. Come to think of it, the Maxwells live in the old Morris house. Just for the past few years, though, so I’m afraid they couldn’t help you out about Susan.”
“I may just go out there and have a look around, anyway. For old times’ sake.”
“If you have to, but keep your eyes open when you’re out and about. If you think anybody’s acting strange around you, let me know or go straight to the police. OK?”
Annie glanced at the unevenly pasted letters on the note that lay open on Ian’s desk. It was just a piece of paper. She wasn’t going to let it become more than that.
“I’ll be fine, Ian. Thanks.”
****
The old Morris house was mostly the way Annie remembered it, even down to the fan-shaped window above the front door, but it was much smaller than she recalled from her girlhood. Still, it was a lovely old place set back in the trees, crisp and white against the brilliant reds and yellows of the maples. Susan had told her once that the house was nearly 200 years old. It had seen a lot of living. No wonder Susan had loved it.
Annie stopped at the end of the long gravel driveway and got out of the car, content to just look. She noticed that the door, like the shutters, was painted a very dark green, not the black she remembered from Susan’s days, but the paint was fresh and neat, and the yard, apart from the wilder part that stretched back into the forest, was well kept. Maybe the Maxwells loved the house too.
She walked a little farther down the drive, lost in the memories of girlhood, remembering where she and Susan had played and giggled and whispered. She wandered up to the big oak at the corner of the house that had once held a tire swing. The swing itself was gone now, but the hooks that had supported the chains were still buried in place. And there were still some weathered strips of wood fastened to the tree trunk with long-rusted nails. She was sure they were the remains of the ladder Susan’s dad had made to help them get up into the lower branches of the tree.
She and Susan had always pretended they were far above the earth, playing in the clouds like …
“Did you want something?”
Annie sucked in a startled breath and turned. The man standing there in jeans and a rumpled flannel shirt open over a V-neck undershirt was perhaps in his late forties. His tangled mop of dark hair and serious stubble of beard told Annie that he had just wakened.
“I—I’m sorry. I was just—” She smiled weakly. “There used to be a swing in this tree.”