No Place Like Home by Mary Higgins Clark

smiled across the table at him. The pub at the Black Horse Tavern had been a favorite lunch spot of people in the area for generations.She remembered a day when she and Victor and Audrey and Ted had had lunch here together. It was only a few months before Audrey and Ted had separated. It was obvious then that he was crazy about her, and she certainly acted as if she was in love with him, too. Whatever broke it up? she wondered. But that was twenty-four years ago, and as far as she knew, Ted’s last girlfriend was history.
    Ted was studying her, too. I know I look darn good, Marcella thought, and if I can judge a man’s expression, he thinks so, too.
    â€œWant to know what I’m thinking?” she challenged him.
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œI’m thinking that a lot of men pushing sixty are starting to lose their looks. Their hair gets thin or disappears. They put on weight. They just go all-around blah. But you’re even more attractive now than way back when we were neighbors. I love it that your hair has turned white. With those blue eyes of yours, it makes a great combination. You’ve always been a big man, without having an ounce of fat on you. I like that. Victor was such a wimpy-looking guy.”
    With a shrug she dismissed her husband of twenty-two years, along with the annoying fact that only months after their divorce ten years ago, Victor had remarried, was now the father of two children, and, according to her pipeline, was divinely happy.
    â€œYou flatter me and I don’t mind a bit,” Ted said. “Now how about a cup of coffee, and then,after I drop you off, I’ve got to get back to the office.”
    Ted had suggested that she meet him at the Black Horse, but she had asked him to pick her up. “I know I’ll have a glass of wine, and I don’t want to drive afterwards,” she had explained. The fact was that she wanted the intimacy of being in a car with him and the opportunity to prolong the time they spent together.
    Half an hour later, Ted was pulling into her driveway. He parked, got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her. As she stood up, a car passed slowly along the road. They both recognized the driver, the Morris County prosecutor, Jeff MacKingsley.
    â€œWhat’s that all about?” Cartwright asked sharply. “The prosecutor doesn’t usually get involved with simple vandalism.”
    â€œI can’t imagine. Yesterday, Sergeant Earley certainly acted as if he was running the show. I wonder if anything else happened. I’ll try to find out. I was planning to make some cinnamon rolls tomorrow morning and take them up to the Nolans,” Marcella told him. “I’ll give you a call if I hear anything.” She looked at him, trying to decide if it was too soon to invite him to dinner. I don’t want to scare him away, she thought. Then something in Ted Cartwright’s expression took her breath away. He was staring at the prosecutor’s car as it disappeared around the bend, and it was as if a mask had dropped. The expression on his face was somberand worried. Why should seeing Jeff MacKingsley’s car around here bother him? she wondered. Then it occurred to her that maybe the only reason Ted had invited her to lunch was to pump information from her about what was going on next door.
    Well, two can play at that game, she thought. “Ted, this has been so pleasant,” she said. “Why don’t you come over for dinner Friday night? I don’t know whether you remember, but I’m a great cook.”
    The mask was back. His expression affable, Ted kissed her on the cheek. “I remember, Marcella,” he said. “Is seven o’clock good for you?”

13

    J eff MacKingsley spent the better part of the day at Roxiticus Golf Club, participating in a golf outing that benefited the Morris County Historical Society. An excellent golfer with a six handicap, it was the kind