by Polly Holmes
He swallowed. “Are you all right?”
Sure. My heart feels like a ticking time-bomb, my legs feel like they have just walked across the Nullarbor Plain and I’m in the arms of a man that scrambles my thoughts. Why wouldn’t I be all right?
Clair pushed her tense hands off his taut chest. “Of course. I guess those stairs really did a number on my legs.” She shook her legs praying the pins and needles would evaporate sooner rather than later. “You still haven’t answered my question. How are you not exhausted?”
His brow creased. “I work out. I’m into computer programming and I love it, but a friend of mine who works in the same building as me is into designing games. Not with lots of killing or over-the-top violence, but he creates different types of fantasy worlds that teach people to build societies where they can be self-sufficient and live off the land. That includes defending themselves. He set up a gym in the basement of our building and he lets me use it to work out while he tests moves for his games with his workmates.”
I’d like to test your moves. Where on earth did that come from? Focus on the task, not the man. Clair felt a little more of her heart soften toward this man. “What an amazing job.”
“Yeah.” He turned and continued down the corridor toward Roland Trent’s office, Clair following. “Thank you for going along with my little charade earlier.”
Clair’s brow creased. “Charade?”
“Opening a computer business here in town. I just went with your lead and it was the first thing that popped into my head.” He stopped outside Roland’s office.
“No problem.” Of course, it was all an act. As if he would leave the high life of Surfers Paradise. I swear, from this moment on, my focus is now 100% on clearing my name and nothing else.
With a renewed sense of purpose, she rolled her shoulders back, sucked in a deep breath and took a step forward, then froze. “The door,” she whispered. “It’s ajar.”
She leaned her ear against it, straining to hear signs of life inside. Mason joined her, his lips inches from hers. His spicy aftershave bled into her chest and she held her breath. Focus, focus, focus. She closed her eyes and listened harder, it was all she could do to stop herself from pushing up on her toes and kissing him.
“I can’t hear a thing, can you?” she asked Mason.
He shook his head. “No, but just keep your eyes and ears open for the unusual.”
Clair’s nerves were like elastic bands, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. She eased the door open, her gaze scanning for any unwanted guests. “It’s empty,” she said moving farther into the office. Mason semi-closed the door behind them.
“Let’s be quick about this,” Mason whispered as his gaze fell on the computer. “We don’t want Arthur to come looking for us.”
“Agreed. The clue to my freedom could be here, so let’s get to work. I’ll search the filing cabinet, you see if you can find anything on his computer.”
Mason nodded and went to work, his fingers moved at lightning speed across the keys.
Electricity burned her chest as the filing draw released under her pull. “Yes.” She wanted to jump up and do a high five in the air. “He’s got a pretty tight security lock on this, which tells me he’s hiding something. It isn’t going to be easy to crack, even with my advanced skills, but I’ll give it a shot,” Mason said, his eyes glowed with determination.
Clair worked her way through the files, the unknown names blurring into one. The tapping of Mason’s fingernails became a distant drone. She’d just about given up when her gaze spotted exactly what she’d been looking for. Jackpot.
Her stomach tightened. Stella Roseamund. Maybe this will tell me why you lied to Mason. She whipped the file out and her heart sank. Empty? Was there something in here worth killing for?
Clair closed the file and turned to see if Mason had more luck than she did. Uneasiness crept into Clair’s gut. Before she could utter a word, a high-pitched ding signalling the arrival of the elevator, followed by muffled voices drifting down the corridor. A sense of foreboding came over her as the voices loomed closer.
Mason shot from his chair and darted toward the oncoming sound. Peering through the ajar door, he had a perfect view of the elevator. “It’s Detective Anderson and Arthur and they’re headed this way.”
Of course, they are. This is just going from bad to worse. Panic rose in her chest. “What are we going to do?” she asked, her legs frozen to the spot. In a matter of seconds, she’d be able to add breaking and entering to her supposed list of misdemeanours.
Mason carefully closed the door and looked around the office. “Quick, through here,” he said as he grabbed her hand, dragging her toward an adjoining door.
Please be open, she prayed. It was, and he pushed her through.
They stood like statues against the wall. Her breathing was laboured. Mason had left the door open an inch to listen, but it was Clair’s pummelling heart that filled her ears. Breathe, just breathe.
Detective Anderson’s commanding voice boomed through the small office. “Thank you. That will be all. I’ll see myself out.”
“Very well, Detective,” Arthur said.
Clair leaned her head back against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. Please don’t find anything that points to me. Clair felt butterflies in her stomach. The trouble was, she couldn’t be sure it was the fear of being caught or the touch of Mason’s hand in hers. Her gaze met his warm and reassuring eyes and for a moment she was lost in the deep depth of his gaze. Mason stiffened, the trance broken by the recorded voice of James Hapworth.
“Roland, are you there? Pick up, if you are...I’m meeting her tonight and I’m sure I can persuade her to change her mind. If she doesn’t there are other avenues we can explore so don’t worry, I’ll handle it. You just keep your end of the deal and everything will turn out as planned. Trust me.”
Clair’s mind raced. Meeting who? Me? What other ways? And if it was me, why did he want me to change my mind?
The tension was cut by Detective Anderson’s sharp tone. “Sounds like you and James Hapworth had unfinished business, hey, Roland.”
Was that unfinished business me?
Clair glanced sideways at Mason and her heart melted at the genuine concern etched in his expression. The familiar glide of the filing cabinet drawer sent instant panic shooting through her chest. Her gaze dropped to Stella’s file, which she held tight in her hands. Oh my gosh, how could I have been so silly? Now they could add breaking and entering and stealing.
“Anderson, here. Fine, I’m on my way.”
Clair’s heartbeat picked up a few notches. The distant ping of the elevator confirmed Anderson’s departure. A burning roar worked its way from her chest to her throat, a reminder to breathe.
Mason, still holding her hand, squeezed it. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t know about you but I could use a stiff drink.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Chapter Six
THEY’D MADE IT out without incident and with Arthur none the wiser. “I can’t believe I have more questions than answers,” Clair said, pushing her empty beer glass to the centre of the table.
Mason took another bite of his burger, a trickle of sauce tickling his chin. “Pardon me,” he said wiping it with a napkin. Gee, talk about clumsy. I can’t even eat a burger in front of her without wearing it on my face.
Clair smiled and swallowed the last bite of her burger. “It’s okay. That’s what makes Charlie’s burgers so good. The sauce.”
“This really is an amazing burger,” he said, eyeing Clair as they sat in the beer garden at The Corner2 Pub. Mason’s tastebuds were in heaven, not to mention his stomach. The tender meat was seasoned with tangy spices and the bun was so fresh it sang in his mouth.
“Told you,” she said rocking her empty glass. “Best burgers in town.”
He nodded toward her glass. “I didn’t peg you for a beer woman.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said, her hurt
tone startling him.
You idiot, way to put your foot in it. “No disappointment at all. In fact, I like that you prefer beer. There’s something about a woman who can hold her own with the men.” The cutest crimson blush worked its way up her neck. He didn’t think it was possible for her to be more beautiful. I really need to get out from behind my computer screen more often. He was wrong.
No time to act like a nerd now. “Are you sure there wasn’t anything else in the files of interest?” he asked.
She sighed and shook her head. “No, like I said, there was only the empty file with Stella’s name on it.”
“Look on the bright side. That confirms they did know each other.”
“Yes, but why was she lying about knowing him?” Mason felt Clair’s frustration from where he was sitting. “What did she have to do with Roland Trent, and why lie about it unless…”
“Unless what?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Unless it has something to do with his murder?”
The ominous word hung over them and they continued to eat in silence. The pub ambience was buzzing with a welcoming, friendly vibe, different to the pubs back home in Surfers Paradise.
He tensed and chuckled to himself. How would I know, it’s not like going to pubs is a regular event back home. He was kind of a loner and hadn’t had reason to socialise outside the office or gym, until now. This would be his first in a long time.
“Something funny?” Clair asked.
He shuffled in his seat, “No, I was just thinking about how nice this place is.” His gaze watched Clair as she looked around. The warmth that filled her eyes gnawed at his heart. Mason lived and worked in Surfers Paradise, but the connection was never strong enough to call it home.
“It is a pretty special place. I can’t see myself living in any other town,” she said. “Although.” Her brow creased. “If I don’t find out the answers I need, the only place around here I’ll be seeing is the inside of a jail cell.”
His gut twisted in knots. Not if I can help it.
She bit her bottom lip and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. He finished the last gulp of his beer. The icy liquid slid down his throat, cooling his insides.
She continued. “Tell me if I have this right. We know Roland knew Stella, otherwise why have a file on her, but don’t know if and why she lied about meeting him. We know Stella believes James was bowling and we know that isn’t true because of his injured shoulder. So, either James was lying to Stella or she was lying to us. Judging by the phone call, we know he was meeting a woman that night, the question is which woman?”
“It could have been you, but who’s to say it wasn’t Stella or someone else? And if it was you, what did he want to change your mind about? The settlement or the mansion or something completely different? Either way I think Roland is involved in some way. How am I doing so far?”
“Pretty on point, but now we have more questions. Maybe Roland was the other buyer. Sounds like both Stella and Roland had dealings with James, but were they enough to force one of them to kill him? And if Roland killed James, who killed Roland?”
“Good points, all of them. Ones that we need to find the answers to.” Frustration settled in the base of his gut.
“I don’t trust Stella one iota,” Clair said, leaning back in her chair. “I think we should speak to someone in this bowling league, anyway. Just to confirm one way or another. It’s a place to start.”
“Agreed. I’ll make some calls and see what I can find out.”
She nodded and paused, her gaze falling on her empty plate. “Um, I could…” The wall clock above the bar chimed and she froze in her seat. He paused, his gaze holding hers steady. Clair checked her watch. “Oh, darn. I was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago to help Charlotte. She’s designing a new line of fantasy cupcakes and wanted to run her ideas by me. I’m sorry to cut this short.”
He sat and watched her wispy, red curls bounce around her slender neck. He’d been so focused on work lately it’d been a while since he’d dated or wanted to kiss a woman, but he’d make an exception for Clair. Snap out of it, man. The objective is to clear Clair of murder, not find a date. “No problem. How about I come by tomorrow around nine and we can pick up where we left off?”
She gifted him with a smile that spoke to his heart. “I’d like that.”
****
“I still can’t believe you went to Roland Trent’s office yesterday,” Charlotte said as Clair walked into the kitchen heading straight to the coffee machine. “Thank goodness Detective Anderson didn’t find you.”
“Tell me about it.” The thought sent goosebumps fanning across her skin. “Next time, I’ll be more careful.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “Next time?”
Clair held her warm coffee, her chilled hands beginning to thaw by its touch. “You can’t expect me to stop looking for answers. You of all people should understand.”
“I know, but how about keeping me in the loop? Just in case I need to bail you out of jail, I’ll know why,” Charlotte said with a cheeky glint in her eye.
“Deal.” The love for her sister blossomed in her heart.
“You didn’t have to come home last night, you know? I could have finished the cupcake designs by myself.”
“I know.” Clair felt a momentary pang in her gut. Guilt? “I said I would help and I thought it only fair to let you know what Mason and I found out.”
“How was dinner with Mr Perfect?” Charlotte asked.
Charlotte’s question triggered mouth-watering images of Mason. Mr Perfect, indeed. Perfect lips. Perfect hair. Perfect butt. He even looked gorgeous with a dribble of sauce down his chin.
“Oh, no,” Charlotte said smirking at her sister. “You’ve got it bad.”
Clair frowned. Charlotte looked as if she’d just solved the world’s poverty problems. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“You like him.” Charlotte chuckled popping a spoonful of Coco Pops into her mouth.
“Well, of course I like him, he’s a nice guy, he’s helping prove my innocence and he just lost his father for goodness sake.” Clair silently prayed. Drop it, please drop it, Charlotte.
Charlotte pursed her lips and frowned. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
Clair’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Her head hurt with all the reasons why she shouldn’t like him, but her heart wanted what it wanted, and it wanted Mason. “Okay, you win,” she said joining her at the table, her head in her hands. “I confess. I really like Mason.”
“Really? I’d like to be around when the town gets a hold of that piece of information,” Liam said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.
Clair’s head shot up and her heart lurched as she watched the grin on Liam’s face grow. She gasped and swallowed the golf-ball-sized lump in her throat. “Liam you cannot repeat that to anyone, you hear me?” She barrelled toward him like an approaching storm halting inches from his face. “Promise me you’ll keep it to yourself,” she said stabbing her finger in his firm chest. Clair was seconds from turning her sister’s status to single. “It’s hard enough working alongside him, if the town got a hold of it I’d never hear the end of it.”
His eyebrows shot up and he held up his hand in defence. “Okay, okay. Geeze, I was just kidding around. Honest.”
“You had better be.” Her logical brain knew he could be trusted, but her gut was telling her something entirely different. Clair shuffled back to her seat, her heart deflating. “Why is it you had to walk in at that exact moment?”
“Yes, sweetie, why are you here so early? Don’t you remember? Even though I’m not rostered on today, Clair and I have to head into the shop this morning to work on cupcake designs for the Founder’s Day Gala dinner this weekend. I thought we were catching up later for lunch,” Charlotte said between mouthfuls. Liam took the seat beside Charlotte and huddled close to give her a peck on the cheek.
Oh no, Clair felt a ch
ill run up her spine as Liam’s face fell. “What’s happened?” she asked. Please don’t let there be a body inside the shop this time.
Liam stared from one sister to the other, concern clouding his deep, chocolate-brown eyes.
Charlotte frowned. “Spit it out, sweetheart. Now you’re starting to worry me.”
“Have either of you seen the paper this morning?”
It was at that moment Clair noticed he had one arm hidden below the table. An imaginary hand squeezed her throat. Stay calm, it could be nothing. Maybe there’s a sale on baking equipment and he doesn’t want us to miss a bargain.
“I know you’ve got a copy, otherwise why would you mention it. Just show us, Liam,” Clair said, bracing herself for another onslaught of lies.
“Okay, at least you’re sitting down.”
“That bad, huh,” Charlotte asked, tension marring her expression.
Liam shrugged. “I’ll let you be the judge.” He held the paper up to show another devastating headline next to a giant picture of Clair six years ago at an animal activist rally looking like she was about to murder someone.
Cupcake Killer Has Killed Before!
Clair puffed her cheeks and blew out a long breath of air and her heart sank like a stone in water. “I don’t believe this,” she said, pulling the paper from Liam’s hands. Her gaze ran over the article, each word a knife in her chest. “First the article yesterday and now this!”
“This is ridiculous,” Charlotte said, her tense expression echoing Clair’s own. “That rally was yonks ago and you did not kill anyone, at least not that I can remember.”
Clair licked her lips and swallowed back the urge to swat Charlotte over the head with the newspaper. “Of course I didn’t. Things got a little out of hand and I happened to get caught in the middle, but I did not kill anyone. Although this picture makes me look like a deranged killer.”
“The article says you attacked the police, and when they tried to restrain you, you retaliated and lashed out, knocking a man unconscious who later died in hospital.”