A High-End Finish(38)

“Luisa?” I said.

She turned and her eyes lit up. “Shannon. It’s great to see you.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good.” She glanced at her big, handsome brother. “Buddy, I want to talk to Shannon for a minute. Why don’t you go meet Mama and Papa at the café? I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, okay. Hey, Shannon,” he added before strolling to the restaurant.

Luisa watched until Buddy was far enough away for us to talk without being overheard. “We’re having Sunday lunch at the Blue Moon Café.”

“I like that place,” I said.

“Me, too.” She pressed her lips together pensively, then blurted, “I wanted to call you this week, Shannon, but I . . . I couldn’t get up the nerve.”

“Why not?” I asked, playing dumb. “What’s up?”

“I heard what happened to you with Jerry. I’m so glad you defended yourself, but it never should’ve happened. I should’ve warned you. I should’ve warned every woman in town about him. He was a manipulative predator.” Her breath trembled and she had to swallow a few times before continuing. “For months I was so afraid of saying anything to anyone for fear of him coming back and . . .” She couldn’t complete the sentence, and I thought the worst. Would he have beaten her? Killed her?

I’d meant to call her last week, too, after Sean told me that she’d shown up with a black eye and her family had suspected it was from Jerry. I didn’t want to say anything now, though, because my reasons for contacting her hadn’t been the most noble. I had wanted to gauge her anger at Jerry in the hopes that the police would add her to the suspect list. It was no fun being on the list all alone.

“Well,” she continued, after shaking her head in self-disgust, “it might be terrible of me to say so, but I’m happy you kicked him. I wish I’d been there to see it.”

I had to ask. “Luisa, did Jerry hurt you physically?”

Apparently, the question was traumatic, because she seemed to gasp for air, taking a few deep breaths before she could finally make eye contact. “Yes. He punched me in the face. More than once. I still can’t see very well out of this eye.” She touched the left side of her face. “The doctor says I’ll be fine, eventually, but it was so awful, Shannon. And now I’m always flinching at noises and things. I hate that.”

“Your parents and brothers must’ve been furious.”

“They wanted to kill him,” she said, then pressed her fingers to her lips. “I shouldn’t have said that. And I didn’t mean it. Not really. I mean, yes, they were furious with Jerry, but that’s just natural. The police even talked to them because they had told people how much they hated him. But, luckily, they all have alibis.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” She glanced around to make sure we were alone. “I know they didn’t kill Jerry, but I also know they wanted to. And I hate to say it, but a small part of me wanted them to do it, too. That’s a horrible thing to confess, but it’s true. I was so angry at him, and even more angry at myself for allowing it to happen.”

“I know how you feel,” I said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “But you were smart and brave to stop seeing him.”

“Not really,” she whispered. “I went back to him after he hit me the first time. He promised never to do it again. And I really thought I loved him. He was so handsome and such a good listener. But then he hit me again. I’d heard of women getting caught in that cycle, but I never thought I would be one of them. I’m lucky I escaped before anything worse occurred.”

“I don’t care what you say. I still think you were brave to walk away from him.” But now I had to wonder why she’d never pressed charges against him. Why hadn’t her family? What were they afraid of?

“Do the police know who killed him?” she asked in a low voice.

“No,” I said. “They’re still investigating.”

She nodded. “If you find out, will you call me?”

“Sure.”

“Good,” she said firmly, as her hands bunched into fists. “I want to know who to thank.”

My breath caught, but before I could respond, she grabbed me in a tight hug, whispered, “Thanks, Shannon,” and let me go. She walked quickly down the sidewalk and across the street.

I stared after her, still unsure what to make of the conversation. Especially her last statement. So much for that shy, fragile facade of hers. Shaking off my perplexity, I walked the rest of the way to the diner.

“Howdy, Shannon,” Cindy called. She stood in front of the order spindle, looking into the kitchen. “Sit anywhere you’d like. I’ll be right over.”

The entire front counter of the homey restaurant was filled with diners, as were most of the booths and tables. I glanced around and saw Penny sitting at the far end, talking with two women I recognized as tellers from her bank. She saw me and waved, so I approached her booth.

After greeting them all, I turned to Penny. “I’m glad I ran into you. I won’t be able to make it to the gym on Tuesday. My truck has a dead battery.”

“Oh, so that’s why I saw you riding your bike earlier,” she said.