A Love That's Divine--Part Seven

"Jonathan, how is she? I still can't get over what happened today," Katherine said, motioning for him to come in.

"I can't either," Jonathan answered, "which is precisely why I've come by. Do you still have the backpacks and water bottles we used today?"

"Well, I'm not sure if Cal brought them in yet. They may still be in the truck. With all the confusion today, I don't remember what we did with them. Why do you ask?"

"I just had a thought, that's all," he answered, watching her expression.

Katherine was silent for a moment. "You don't think this was an accident, do you?"

Jonathan looked directly at her.

"Neither do I," she said, looking away. "But I can't figure out why…"

"Why don't you start by telling me what bothers you about his whole episode."

Katherine took a deep breath and walked around her desk to take a seat. "Well, the place where you found Jennifer. There's no way she could have known."

Jonathan looked at her quizzically. "Known what?"

"Well...There was no way she could have known that spot," Katherine said, pausing. "It's exactly where Gloria Cromwell was found stabbed to death."

Jennifer opened her eyes slowly and stretched. Jonathan was sitting at the desk, already dressed, a look of concern on his face.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said. Jonathan turned to look at her and smiled.

"How did you sleep, darling?"

"Good. I'm feeling much better," she said, propping herself up with pillows. "What time is it?"

"It's already past ten. I didn't want to wake you," he answered, coming over to the bed to give her a kiss.

"Did you already have breakfast?" she asked, noting his preoccupation.

"I just had some coffee…" Jonathan said, pausing. "Darling, do you remember what you did with your water bottle yesterday? Did you put it back in your backpack, by any chance?"

"My water bottle?" she said, scratching her head. "I think I put it in my backpack, but I can't be sure. I really don't remember, Jonathan. Why do you ask?"

"Because it's not in the Chevy and not in your backpack."

Jennifer gave him a funny look. "Well, I probably dropped it along the trail. I really don’t remember. Why is finding that bottle so important?"

Jonathan was hesitant about disclosing his fears. He didn’t want to unnecessarily upset Jennifer after all she had been through. Still, he never liked keeping information from his wife. Seeing his conflicted expression, Jennifer sat up.

"What is it, Jonathan?" she said, her eyes searching his.

Jonathan struggled to find the right words. "I’m not sure. You were awfully tired and dizzy on the trail. That’s not like you. I wanted to check if there was anything in your water."

"Like what?" Jennifer smiled, shaking her head. "Do you think someone drugged me?" she said jokingly.

Jonathan looked at her and bit the side of his cheek.

Jennifer shook her head, smiling. "Jonathan, I really think that I just got too much mountain air and got dizzy…seriously, this whole thing is embarrassing. Can we just forget about it?"

Jonathan looked into her eyes. "All right," he said, unconvincingly.

"Besides," Jennifer said, rubbing his arm, "who would want to do that to me? Katherine and Cal were the only ones with us. They would have no reason to do such a thing."

Jonathan did not answer. He decided not to tell her that she had stumbled onto Gloria Cromwell’s murder site.

"Darling, I was thinking," Jennifer said, changing the subject, "could I have permission to talk with Derby and Charles today? I promise not to leave the hotel."

Jonathan looked at her, perplexed, and then remembered Joe Fernald’s suggestion to talk to them. "Okay, but remember…you'll have to wrestle me before you can leave this place."

Jennifer winked at him. "I haven't forgotten!"

Charles sat quietly reading in the hotel library, as Jennifer walked up to meet him. He was a large man, with a manner that suggested he was uncomfortable with his size. Perhaps it was the way he slouched in his chair or the way he characteristically folded his coat jacket to cover his protruding stomach.

"Excuse me. Are you Charles Canfield?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes. Yes, I am," he said looking up at her and closing his book.

"I'm Jennifer Hart. My husband and I were speaking with Joe Fernald the other day about the Wallingford. I'm writing a story about the hotel, and he suggested that I talk with you too," Jennifer explained.

Charles nodded. "Well, I'm on a break now. I have about fifteen minutes. Please, have a seat," he offered, putting his glasses into his pocket.

Jennifer pulled up a chair. "What a lovely library," she said, admiring the way the sunlight poured in from the large picture windows, accenting the mahogany bookcases.

"Yes. It's my favorite place in the hotel," he said rather shyly.

"I understand you've worked here for many years. I was wondering what you could tell me about the Wallingford during the 1940's," Jennifer began.

"The 1940's? Well, the biggest thing that comes to mind, of course, was the International Monetary Committee meeting. It was probably the largest crowd we ever hosted. We had seven hundred dignitaries from all over the world here!" Charles recalled, his expression becoming animated.

"That's right. They set the gold prices here, didn't they?"

"Yes. It was a terribly exciting time for us. We all worked overtime making sure that everything went smoothly," Charles said, shaking his head and looking off into the distance.

"Mr. Canfield, do you remember Gloria Cromwell?" Jennifer asked pointedly, knowing that his fifteen-minute break would end soon.

"Yes. I remember her," he said quietly.

"What can you tell me about her?" she asked.

Charles took a deep breath. "She was a very sweet lady – polite, you know, not like most people with money," he said, catching himself. "I mean, she took the time to pay us a compliment…if she liked her meal, she made sure all of us in the kitchen knew. Little things like that."

Jennifer smiled. She had already begun to feel like she knew Gloria Cromwell and liked her style. Apparently the staff at the Wallingford felt the same way.

"She vacationed here a lot?" Jennifer asked.

"She came during the summer months…spent a lot of time by herself reading and walking the grounds. She loved the White Mountains. She's buried here, you know," he said, looking directly at Jennifer.

"What do you remember about her murder?"

Charles gave Jennifer a curious look. "She killed herself, Mrs. Hart."

Jennifer was taken aback. "That's not what I've heard."

Charles smiled. "Mrs. Hart, I know what you've heard. That's what most folks would like to think. It makes for a good story…but the truth is, Miss Cromwell was depressed that last summer she was here. She was a loner too – kept people at a distance. The coroner's report said she committed suicide."

Jennifer sat back in her chair, the wound on her head beginning to throb. "It was a stabbing, isn't that right?"

"Yes, I believe it was."

"Don't you think it odd that she would stab herself to death? A woman who was seemingly so gentle and non-violent?" Jennifer asked.

"Not really. It was a very dramatic, very romantic departure…very in keeping with her personality. She was a poet, you know."

Jennifer nodded her head, sensing that she should not push further. Finally, she pulled the photo from her purse and handed it to Charles. "Do you know who this man is in the picture, Mr. Canfield?"

Charles blinked several times. "That's Miss Cromwell…I don't know who the man is...Where did you come across this photograph?"

Jennifer took the photo back and tucked it into her purse. "Let's just say it showed up on my doorstep," she said, pulling out the letter-opener that she had purchased at Jackson’s Antiques. "Have you ever seen this before?" she asked, looking up at Charles.

Charles’ face went white. "Uh..no...no, I don’t believe I have," he stammered.

Jennifer looked directly into his eyes. There was a silent pause.

"Mr. Canfield, thank you for your time. I'm sorry I took up so much of your break."

"Not at all, Mrs. Hart," Charles answered, barely audible. "It was my pleasure."

Cal Wingate had just finished hauling bags of grass seed into the storage shed, when he closed the door to find Jonathan standing there. Jonathan didn't mince words.

"What happened yesterday on the trail?" Jonathan asked, his eyes boring through Cal.

Cal looked at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Cal shook his head. "If you're talking about Jennifer's accident, I don't know what happened. Ms. Belleveau has already asked me about it, and I swear I told you everything."

"Don't you think it's a little strange that Jennifer could wander that far off the trail, given the fact that she was so tired and dizzy?"

Cal shrugged. He opened his mouth, as if he didn't know what to say.

"And another thing…don't you think it's odd that Jennifer suddenly got so tired and disoriented after drinking from her water bottle…a water bottle that seems to be missing now?" Jonathan said, his voice rising with anger.

"What are you saying?" Cal said, his heart pounding.

Jonathan took a step closer and looked him in the eye. "All I'm saying is that if I find out that you, in any way, had anything to do with harming my wife…you'll pay for it."

Several moments passed as Jonathan and Cal looked face to face. Finally, Jonathan turned and walked back into the hotel.

Jennifer was resting on the bed when Jonathan returned to the hotel suite. He studied her carefully, making sure she was not overdoing it.

"Did you find Derby and Charles?" Jonathan said, sitting down next to her on the bed.

Jennifer nodded, eager to tell him. "I met with Charles in the library while he was on a break. Derby is out sick today. It was a very interesting conversation. He's sure that Gloria committed suicide – says that she was depressed that summer, and that all the stories about her being murdered were just that – stories."

Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you've got to be prepared for the possibility that that may be the truth. We still don't have any hard evidence to the contrary."

"Well, the interesting thing," Jennifer said, dismissing Jonathan’s comment, "is that when I pulled out the letter-opener, he was shaken. I mean, you should have seen the expression on his face! He definitely knows more, but he’s holding back. I can sense it."

Jonathan nodded, and then mustered the courage to say what had been on his mind. He knew that she was not going to like what he had to say, but his need to protect her was overriding. "Jennifer, darling...I’ve been thinking that it might be a good idea if you went back home to L.A. and rested," he began, choosing his words carefully. "You could do all of the research about Gloria Cromwell and the Wallingford back there where you’d have access to a larger library, the internet, newspaper archives..." he continued. "You’d get so much more done...and then, you can fly back to gather whatever information you still need to write the story."

Jennifer looked at him speechless. She swallowed the emotion that was surfacing in her throat. "Jonathan, I don’t need to rest. Everything that I need to investigate is right here. I don’t want to leave."

Jonathan had anticipated her reaction. His headstrong wife was not going to be easily convinced. "Jennifer, it only makes sense. Do the research first and then come back to do the story, that’s all I’m saying."

"What’s going on, Jonathan?" she thought for a moment. "Who’s idea was it for me to go home?" She looked at him directly.

"Well, Katherine suggested it and I think it’s a good idea."

Jennifer folded her arms across her chest, feeling her cheeks burn.

"You’ve had a bad fall, you’ve been dizzy and light-headed...I don’t think this is the place for you to be recovering. I’d like you to see your own doctor," he added.

"Jonathan, I am not a child and I am not going home," she said, adamantly, "and furthermore, I think it’s very interesting that Katherine wants me to leave here...and I suppose she wants you to stay, right? Iron out some more investment details, am I right?" Jennifer fumed, looking away from Jonathan.

Jonathan grew quiet. "Jennifer, I’m just worried about you and I don’t want anything to happen to you," he said plainly.

"Well, I’m staying right here," she answered firmly.

"Jonathan, how’s Jennifer feeling?" George asked.

"Much better, thanks. She’s resting back at the hotel. I thought I’d come over and see Carol. How is she doing?" Jonathan asked, putting his arm around George’s shoulder.

"She hasn’t come around yet, but she’s been moving her arms and legs a bit. The boys have been at her bedside constantly. They want to be there when she wakes up," he smiled. It was the kind of smile worn after a hard-won battle.

"You’re a lucky man," Jonathan said.

George nodded. "Yes, I am."

Dr. Pennacook walked into the room. "Mr. Hart, you’re just the person I wanted to see. I was just about to call you at the hotel. Can I speak to you a moment?" he asked.

George nodded and returned to Carol’s room, leaving Jonathan and Joel in the hallway.

"How is your wife feeling?" Joel began.

"Well, she says she’s fine. No dizziness or nausea. Still, she’s tired and a little more sensitive than usual. Don’t worry, I’m making sure she doesn’t leave the hotel until she’s back to normal," Jonathan said.

"Good," Joel paused, "I got the results of all her bloodwork back and we found something rather unusual. She had a large amount of benzodiazapine in her system. That’s a drug usually prescribed for anxiety and insomnia...I didn’t see that she was on any medication, so I thought you should know."

Jonathan rubbed his chin, a look of concern on his face. "Benzo.....? What kind of drug is that?"

"Benzodiazapine. It would make her relaxed...even drowsy. Are you sure she hasn’t been prescribed anything lately?" Joel asked gently. He knew that too often spouses hid their medications from their mates...or even more commonly, were not aware of what they had been prescribed.

"I’m certain," Jonathan answered. "I don’t know how she got that drug in her system, but I think that it might have been in her water bottle the day of the hike. It would explain why she was so tired."

Joel shook his head. "Well, the levels in her bloodstream indicate that she may have been ingesting the drug for at least a few days...however, if it were in her water bottle, she may have been seriously close to overdosing."

"Jennifer, it’s so nice to see you. It looks like you’re recovering nicely," Katherine said, as Jennifer entered her office. "I feel terribly about what happened yesterday."

"Yes, it was a rather unfortunate accident, but I’m feeling much better," Jennifer said confidently. "In fact, I’m thinking of staying another week to enjoy the fall foliage. Maybe I’ll even get a chance to take another hike."

"Oh, I see," Katherine said, sitting on the edge of her desk. "I would think that you’d want to see your doctor about those dizzy spells. I know I would be a little alarmed."

"No, I’m sure it was just the change in altitude. Besides, Jonathan and I usually make investment decisions together, and I know how much you want a decision about the Wallingford," Jennifer countered, walking around the office to gaze out the picture window.

"Oh, I figured Jonathan was the kind of businessman who could make those decisions for himself," Katherine said. "It’s sweet that he includes you in his work."

"Yes, well, as his wife," Jennifer said smoothly, "we share the financial responsibilities...and I have a lot of leverage when it comes to convincing him to make a decision."

"I’m sure you do." Katherine nodded appreciatively. "Doesn’t his work get in the way of your activities...planning your cocktail parties, shopping for clothes?"

Jennifer gave a little laugh. "As a journalist, I only wish I had time to plan cocktail parties and shop for clothes."

"Oh, yes, you’re a writer," Katherine said wickedly. "and you want to write about Gloria Cromwell....Frankly, I’m surprised that you’re not spooked after what happened yesterday."

"A little fall would hardly deter me," Jennifer answered.

"Yes, but where you fell...right where Gloria Cromwell was murdered."

Jennifer watched Jonathan through the window, as he pulled up to the front of the hotel and passed his keys to the valet. She sat waiting for him.

Upon entering, he walked over to kiss her cheek. "Hello, darling. How are you feeling?" he asked innocently. "George was asking for you."

Jennifer turned to look him in the eye. "Why didn’t you tell me that I was found at the site where Gloria Cromwell was murdered?"

Jonathan was caught off guard. Jennifer had already had disturbing dreams about Gloria Cromwell; he certainly didn’t want to add to her worries.

"I didn’t want to upset you," he answered honestly. "How did you know?" Dr. Pennacook had advised him to not agitate her, given her emotional state, but he couldn’t lie to her.

"Katherine told me," Jennifer said sharply, and then softened.

"Jonathan?" she asked quietly.

Jonathan looked deeply into her eyes.

"No more secrets, okay?".

Jonathan nodded. "Okay...there’s one more thing I have to tell you then."

"Benzodiazapine? You think it was in my water?" Jennifer asked, incredulously.

"Yes, I do. But, the doctor says the levels in your bloodstream indicate that you may have been ingesting it for a few days."

Jennifer shook her head. "The only places I’ve eaten are here and that place where we ate breakfast the other day."

"Yes, and it’s the same places I’ve eaten, and I haven’t been affected. That’s why I think it was in your water bottle."

Jennifer got up and began pacing the room. Some pieces were beginning to fall into place.

"Jonathan, I think someone here doesn’t want me to uncover the truth about Gloria Cromwell. First, the pouch containing the letter-opener and ring is stolen, then a mysterious photo shows up under our door, and then I’m drugged and deposited in exactly the spot where Gloria was murdered," Jennifer said. "If that isn’t a message, I don’t know what is!"

"But who," Jonathan rose from his seat, picking up on Jennifer’s train of thought, "would care if you uncovered the truth to a fifty-four year old murder?…. The murderer himself?"

Jennifer turned to look at him. "Or someone who had something to lose by uncovering the truth."

"Let’s go pay Sandy and Cole Jackson a visit again. Sandy is a native to the area - she may have more information," Jonathan said, ignited with curiosity.

Jennifer grinned broadly. She knew she had convinced Jonathan at last.

"Maybe I should go to see her alone. She might get distracted if you’re around. You know what I mean?" Jennifer added.

"You’re right, but I’ll drop you off. I don’t want you driving. In the meantime, I’m going to pay a visit to the kitchen to find out who made up our backpacks for the hike," he said.

"Wait a minute," she said, coyly.

"What?"

"I’m not supposed to leave the hotel until I can prove I have my strength back," she said, moving slowly toward Jonathan.

Jonathan returned the grin. "Darling, take it easy now. You still have that drug in your system, not to mention a head injury."

"What are you saying," she teased, "you’re afraid I might still overpower you, even when my health is compromised?"

She backed him up against the bed and gave him a push. Jonathan willfully fell back. Jennifer climbed up onto the bed and straddled him.

"You’re making this too easy for me," she said, taking his arms and pinning them above his head.

"This isn’t fair. I can’t fight back knowing you’re in a fragile state," he said, relishing the command she was taking over him.

She gave him a throaty giggle. "You love it," she whispered into his ear. Leaning over him, she looked into his eyes. He gazed deeply into hers, as if burrowing into her very soul. His look melted her. She leaned forward to kiss him tenderly in return.

Jonathan gently broke free of her grasp and brought his hand around to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer. His mouth took hers, deeply hungering to be inside of her. He reached for her blouse and began unbuttoning it slowly. Jennifer felt his tongue extend farther inward, probing the outer limits of her throat. She inhaled, allowing him to push himself deeper, awakening all her senses. Finally, she pulled herself back to catch her breath.

Jennifer crawled off of him to remove the rest of her blouse and slacks. Jonathan quickly tore off his clothing to match his flesh with hers. He pulled her towards him, her warm body pale and soft against his hard chest. Gently pulling her bra straps down, he exposed her soft breasts, the sight of her swollen nipples making him ache with an animal desire. Jonathan took the nipples into his mouth and moaned at the pleasure of feeling them harden against his tongue.

"Jonathan," she breathlessly muttered, her own hands massaging Jonathan’s chest and then making their way downward. Jonathan continued playfully flicking his tongue over her throbbing nipples, until he could no longer restrain his mounting urge to pleasure the rest of her anatomy. He turned her onto her back, her auburn locks fanning her flushed face. Again his mouth took hers, in a frenzy of passion he could not contain, the emotion of the past few days welling up within him.

"Oh, Jonathan," she whimpered. Jonathan continued brushing his lips between her breasts and down to her flat stomach. Clasping his solid shoulders, she looked down at his thick, brown hair, moaning as he slid his fingers gently along her inner thigh to part her legs. Jennifer’s hips rose instinctively, seeking the sensual satisfaction he had taught her to crave. With fevered passion, Jonathan brought his wife’s cries to a delirious pitch. Her body trembled convulsively, arching upward to meet the pressure of his hand. Unable to be separate from her another moment, Jonathan lurched forward, his manhood driving into the depths of her femininity. Clinging to each other tightly, they collided in a profoundly cataclysmic pleasure.

Katherine sat at her desk, waiting for her headache to subside. Jennifer Hart was turning into an admirable opponent, but she was not about to give up. She would need to proceed cautiously, however, because Jonathan suspected foul play. Katherine knew she would need to keep him in her good graces.

If Jennifer Hart will not leave New Hampshire on her own accord, then we may just have to remove her ourselves, Katherine thought to herself. She quickly dialed the phone.

"I need another favor," she spoke evenly.

"And what would that be? I already fulfilled my obligation," he answered gruffly.

"Oh, I don't think you've even begun to pay me back," Katherine said. "I need you to charter a small plane at the airfield. You're going to take Mrs. Hart for an aerial tour of the mountainside, but you're going to have engine problems. Your Vietnam experience is going to come in handy."

"Listen, drugging someone is one thing, but killing is another…" he said, lowering his voice.

Katherine laughed a sinister laugh. "Don't lecture me on your moral character…If Sandy only knew what I know about you."