Some folks revel in heat and humidity, oblivious to the shiny layer of sweat that covers the body, but Olivia Greyson wasn’t one of them. Now that Spunky was no longer an exuberant puppy with an unpredictable bladder, he didn’t need a walk every few hours. However, after a frantic day in The Gingerbread House, followed by the Tuckers’ baby shower, the little Yorkie had been cooped up in Olivia’s apartment for too long. She knew if she didn’t take him for a long walk, he’d want to play all night.
By the time she and Maddie finished their pizza-fueled brainstorming about murder suspects, it was ten p.m. As soon as Maddie left for home, Olivia clicked a leash on Spunky’s collar and allowed him to lead her downstairs. Heavy, damp air coated her as she locked the front door behind them. The humidity had no effect on Spunky’s energy level. Olivia let him determine their direction, which he did by perking up his ears, sniffing the air, and yanking her forward. Their walks usually began with a romp through the town square, but a small group of flashlight-wielding clue hunters still wandered the park, shouting each time they thought they’d found a piece of evidence. Spunky seemed to disapprove of the noise level. He veered east on Park Street, leading Olivia away from the town square. Lovely Victorian-era houses, most of them small and well maintained, lined both sides of east Park Street. The glow from old-fashioned streetlamps, matching the one near the band shell in the town square, created an atmosphere of comfort and safety.
“I’m not worried about murderers on the loose,” Olivia said to Spunky. “Not when I have you to protect me.” Spunky wagged his tail at the sound of her voice but kept up his pressure on the leash. At Willow Road, he stopped to sniff the air.
“This is new territory for you,” Olivia said as Spunky turned onto Willow Road. He dragged her south, toward a fire hydrant that hadn’t seen refurbishing in many years. “Found a juicy one, have you,” she said as Spunky eagerly sniffed every square inch. While he used the facilities, Olivia gazed around. On Willow Road, some of the oldest homes in Chatterley Heights mingled with small businesses and run-down bungalows. Olivia felt safe in every area of town; however, it was getting dark and a couple streetlights were out farther down the street. She tugged at Spunky’s leash. He ignored her and stood his ground.
“Come on, Spunks, how about we go home and have a treat.”
When Spunky’s terrier stubbornness took hold, even the word “treat” failed to budge him. He strained forward, his little nails scraping the sidewalk.
“Oh, all right,” Olivia said, “we can go on a ways, but then home.” She loosened the leash, and Spunky led her on a brisk walk down Willow Road. After two blocks, he stopped beside a streetlamp and tilted his head as if listening. Olivia listened, too, and heard faint strains of music from farther down the street. Then she realized where they were—about half a block away from the Chatterley Heights Dance Studio.
Olivia figured it was about ten thirty, which seemed late for a dance lesson. Curious, she followed Spunky until they reached a vacant wooded lot across the street from the studio. They stopped under a darkened streetlamp. For once, Spunky exercised self-restraint and sat quietly on the sidewalk. The studio’s floor-to-ceiling plateglass window had no curtain, tempting passersby to stop and observe lessons in progress. Olivia’s mother had mentioned that it took some getting used to, but once she lost herself in the dancing she didn’t notice being watched.
The spotlights above the dance floor were turned off, but a light from farther back in the studio faintly illuminated the back room. It appeared to be empty. Yet Olivia could hear music coming from the building, so either Raoul was still there or he’d left a classical radio station turned on. Or she assumed it was a classical station. Unlike Maddie, Olivia wasn’t mad about music. Her knowledge of music began and ended with the folk and light rock her parents had played while she was growing up. Her father had liked several classical pieces, but Olivia couldn’t distinguish Beethoven from Rachmaninoff. She knew as much about music as she did about cooking—with the exception, that is, of decorated cookie baking.
The music stopped in mid-phrase. Assuming the free concert had ended, Olivia tugged on Spunky’s leash. His little legs tightened, and his silky ears perked as high as they could go. “I need to get up in the morning, you know,” she said. “Some of us have a store to run and can’t loll around all day filing our nails.” Spunky, of course, ignored her.
The music began again, louder than before. This time, Olivia heard a recognizable waltz tune, lilting and lyrical, though she couldn’t name the title or the composer. She watched the studio window as if it were a ballroom scene in a movie, and it became one. A couple materialized on the dance floor and began waltzing with such grace that Olivia suspected she wasn’t watching a ballroom dancing lesson. Though she couldn’t see his features, she could tell that the male dancer was tall. As the couple rounded the dance floor, the light emanating from the back room revealed the man’s full head of hair. He had to be Raoul. The female dancer was hidden by his body as the couple danced through the sliver of light.
Spunky had settled on his haunches to watch the show, but Olivia was beginning to feel voyeuristic. In a mesmerizing swirl, the couple circled the dance floor again and again. Each time they passed close to the front window, Olivia strained to see Raoul’s partner. She gathered the impression of a petite woman wearing a silky gown that flowed with her movements. Could she be the ballerina seen dancing in the town square at night?
Olivia lifted Spunky, who whimpered but didn’t yap. “Let’s get a bit closer,” she whispered. Across the street and next to the studio, another unlit streetlamp kept one side of the building in darkness. Olivia waited for the waltzing couple to reach the back of the dance floor before she carried Spunky across the street. They settled in the dark, near the edge of the window. From where she stood, Olivia could see about half of the dance floor. Spunky remained quiet. Maybe he was as curious as Olivia about this lovely and mysterious scene.
The music ended. Holding Spunky firmly in both arms, Olivia leaned her right shoulder against the rough stone wall and peered into the studio. Spunky’s head jerked as strains of another waltz began. This time even Olivia recognized the piece—“The Blue Danube.” She heard the tinkle of feminine laughter and wondered if the choice of music amused the woman.
Now that Olivia was closer she could hear the occasional murmur of voices, though no clear words. As the couple glided near her hiding place, she flattened against the wall. The dancers had taken their fourth turn around the floor, and Olivia still hadn’t gotten a look at the woman’s face or hair. She decided to be bolder. Leaning her cheek against the window frame, she looked inside. If they danced close enough and looked directly toward her, Raoul and his partner might see the outline of her head. Spunky kept quiet, his head swiveling as he followed the movements.
Olivia held her breath as the two waltzed closer and closer to her. She couldn’t believe they hadn’t noticed her. She could make out Raoul’s face as he smiled down at his partner with tenderness. The woman lifted her face toward his and a lock of her hair escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck. The long strand fell down her back. In the dim light, it looked white, though it might have been white-blond.
At that moment, Spunky reverted to his noisy self, barking and squirming as if a pack of starving coyotes were bearing down on them. The young woman yanked away from Raoul and spun around to stare out the window. Olivia clutched Spunky against her chest as she flattened herself against the outside wall. She edged away from the window into the safety of darkness. For a split second, though, she had glimpsed the woman’s face. It was a pale oval of perfection, except for one flaw—a long scar down her left cheek.