Deadly Appearances by Gail Bowen Read Free Book Online Page B

incredibly lovely but in her eyes, which were as blue as forget-me-nots, there was such vacancy. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, Lori Evanson’s soul was spotless.
    “We’re so glad you’re all right. ‘Praise the Lord.’ That’s what Mark said when he heard you were fine.” She stopped for a second and looked gravely at her husband, at this man who could say just the right thing; then she directed those incredible eyes at me. “You’ve always been so good to us – that toaster oven with sandwich grill when we got married, and the cheque for twenty-five dollars when Clay was born. Look, isn’t he a precious lamb?” She turned the baby toward me for inspection. The baby was handsome and reassuringly alert. “So kind,” his mother continued. “If ever there’s anything we can do for you.”
    “No thanks, Lori. I was just looking around. Perhaps I’ll go over to the prayer centre. Are visitors allowed?”
    Her perfect brow wrinkled. “Gee, Mrs. Kilbourn, I guess so, but you know, I don’t know if anyone ever asked. I mean we’re all, like, very proud of the chapel. It was designed by Soren Eames in consultation with a prize-winning Regina architect.” Her brow smoothed. “The Charlie Appleby Prayer Centre seats 2,800 people and is a multi-purpose area that can be converted for other uses. The building also boasts four radiating modules: a cafeteria, a gymnasium, a faith life centre and a complex of state-of-the art business offices.” Her innocent blue eyes shone with happiness. She was on home ground again. I saw the care with which those vacant blue eyes had been made up – peach eye shadow blending into mauve and then a soft smudge of grey eye liner beneath the lower lashes. Suddenly, those perfect eyes focused on something behind me, and they lit up. I turned to see what she was looking at.
    On the main road that led through the campus, a man was getting out of a black Porsche. He was dressed like a university kid – denim work shirt and blue jeans – but even from this distance it was apparent that he wasn’t a kid. He was tall and boyishly slender but there was something defeated about the set of his shoulders that suggested this man’s worries went deeper than a conflict in his class timetable. When he began to walk toward us, I recognized him. He was the James Taylor look-alike, the one who’d run after Roma Boychuk to console her after Andy died. Lori grabbed my hand.
    “Here’s Soren now. Oh, Mrs. Kilbourn, you have to meet him. He is so kind and good. He understands everything, and I mean everything.”
    But the man who understood everything walked past us with a curt nod for Lori and Mark and not even that for me. Lori’s face fell, but she was quick to defend him.
    “Mrs. Kilbourn, that is just not like Soren Eames. He is usually so friendly. I think he must be mourning Mr. Boychuk’s passing, too.”
    “I suppose he met Andy when Andy came to visit Carey.”
    She stood very straight and looked directly into my face. “I don’t know about that. All I know is that Mr. Boychuk came to see Soren almost every week, and lately a lot more than that. They were very close.”
    “Lori, I don’t think we should be talking about this – even with Mrs. Kilbourn. When a man talks to his pastor, that’s just like when he talks to his doctor. There’s a trust there, like an oath.”
    Lori looked so shattered that I jumped in. “I guess,” I said, “that he came to talk about Carey.”
    Mark was silent. “I guess if you two are going to talk about this, Carey and I better go down to Disciples and get a Popsicle. Lori, I’ll see you and Clay at home for lunch.” He kissed his son and wife and pushed the wheelchair toward the road to the restaurant.
    Lori was solemn. She was attempting to analyze something, and it went against the grain. “Mrs. Kilbourn, please forgive me but I think you’re wrong. Mr. Boychuk never really spends – spent much time with Carey. I mean he was