by Lisa Harris
“No, thank you.”
He then grabbed sodas from the fridge.
“I will take a soda.” She glanced at Harriet. “For after I finish my tea, of course.”
Harriet winked. “Joyce is coming this afternoon to cook for me. I’ll text her to bring enough for three.”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. I . . .” She what. It wasn’t as if she was going to go home until she figured out if she was in danger.
“I insist.” Harriet’s matter-of-fact tone left no room for Nicole to argue.
“You coming or what?” Reg eyed her from the foyer.
“I’ll be right there.” Heart pounding, she grabbed her teacup and followed Reg through the foyer to the parlor.
Nicole took a seat in a French Provincial chair while Reg stoked the fire already going in the fireplace.
“Do you think this is private enough?” she asked.
Reg had crouched to manipulate a log just right. “I wouldn’t want it to be too private and give my grandmother any ideas.”
Oh. Nicole read him loud and clear. Harriet hadn’t admitted to matchmaking, but Reg had also caught on to his grandmother’s mischief.
“Maybe your grandmother needs something to engage her mind so she won’t be devising evil plans to get people together.” Nicole chuckled, hoping to keep the tone light. “I had thought she could join us. I want her to know my background. I want her to know why someone could have been following me. One or both of us could have put your grandmother in danger. We’re here now.” Nicole stood and approached Reg as if that would help her make her point.
He replaced the poker and stood to meet her gaze, his brown eyes intense and unreadable.
She would press him now. “Maybe your grandmother should know everything.”
Nicole had made her stand, but Reg’s reaction had her second-guessing that decision.
He crossed his arms. “Before my grandmother hears everything about why someone would follow you, I want to hear it first.”
Chapter Six
Reg took in Nicole’s appearance. her stylish hair accentuating her high cheek bones and a few freckles across her near-perfect nose. High arching brows and blue-gray eyes. Her face was much thinner than when he’d known her before. This was maybe the first moment where he felt he could take time to admire her.
She remained as determined as ever. He was glad for that—he wouldn’t have wanted her to lose her strong, driven personality. Though he surely made her uncomfortable with his perusal and open admiration, she stared right back.
A small laugh escaped him. “I can see those gears moving in your head.”
“Oh yeah?” She moved to a chair. “You can read my mind?”
“If I could, I wouldn’t need you to tell me your story. I just meant I can see you’re considering how much to tell me. How much to leave out.” He pulled the tab on his soda and took a swig, savoring the burn as it went down.
Nicole opened hers, too, and took a sip. “I already told you some of it.”
“You said you found the item for which your father had been killed, and then you faced off with the collector. That you warned him. I admit that sounds like you gave him a reason to trail you, maybe even take you out. If it’s him, he obviously has something to hide. So give me the details. We can help each other.”
She stared at the floor a few heartbeats, then finally lifted her face. “For years I attended roadshows. Talked to people. Scoured the internet for online auction houses. Visited them myself. About a month ago I finally found it.”
“It. What is it, exactly?”
“An antique book. Casino Royale by Ian Fleming—the first novel in the James Bond series. We didn’t know it was worth anything, but it was in my grandfather’s old, dusty book collection—and in mint condition. He took good care of his books. I remembered that someone had wanted to buy it from Dad, but it wasn’t for sale. Then, someone stole it, and my father was killed for it.”
“How can you know it was the same book?”
“Because Mr. Fleming signed it to my great-grandmother.”
“I can’t believe someone didn’t find a way to hide that information, considering it’s connected with a murder.”
Nicole’s hands shook, and she set the soda can down and crossed her arms. Did the memory of her father’s murder when she was a kid still upset her? Or was it something else?
“What did you do next? You said you found the collector and warned him.” Reg wouldn’t berate her for that, but he wanted to.
“It was being sold via a private auction house. I wasn’t a member of the auction house, but I presented myself as a collector. Unfortunately I couldn’t afford anything there, and especially not the book, which is now worth a couple hundred thousand dollars. Knowing the auction house where it was being sold helped me to track down the selling party. I won’t tell you the details of how I obtained the information.”
He almost chuckled. He could well imagine. “Then what happened?”
“After I learned the identity, I went to the address and presented myself as a collector.”
Then. . . I don’t know. I lost it. Memories came back to me. I was only a kid, but I saw someone fleeing that night. I caught a glimpse of him, and I never forgot the signet ring on his finger. It was him, Reg. This was the man who killed my father.”
Reg fisted his hands. “Nicole, what did you do?”
“I asked him about the provenance, that I believed it might have been stolen. He gave me a spiel about documentation from a museum. I already told you this, but I told him he was lying, and that I know what he did that night, and I wouldn’t stop until he was in jail.”
Words stuck in his throat. He cleared it. “I don’t know what you were thinking. Do you know how dangerous that was?”
“I messed up, okay? I found the guy who killed my father and faced him. My whole life has been wrapped up in that one moment—finding the killer. But things didn’t unfold the way I had thought. I was working on gathering documents so I could present the information to—”
“Your old buddies on the art crime team.”
She nodded.
Because they had failed her before in finding the killer, and Nicole would have a solid case before she presented it.
“I have to say that I’m leaning your way now. I have reasons for believing that I could have been the one targeted today, but it’s been four months . . .”
Four months since he received that twenty-four-hour warning. The only problem—he couldn’t remember what had been demanded of him.
“I want to hear your story too, so we don’t mistakenly discount that, but I need to give you some backstory.” She pressed her head into her hands.
When she lifted her face to look at him, there were tears in her eyes. Determined, strong Nicole. He’d never seen her so upset. An ache coursed through him. “Nicole, what is it? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know how to tell you any of this. I . . . I never told you when we were together. I’ve never told anyone.”
Reg moved a chair to sit closer. “Hey, it’s me. I haven’t changed all that much. You can trust me.”
Her vulnerability chinked away at his heart, maybe opening up a small crack. The idea that his grandmother had wanted them together sent warmth flooding through that crack. He weaved his fingers through hers. “Please tell me so I can help you.”
She left her hand in his for a few moments before disentangling from him. “My great-grandfather, a Brit, was an art dealer for the Nazis, involved in . . . confiscating art. He was considered a traitor.” Nicole took another sip of her soda, waiting for him to absorb the information.
The news surprised him and, clearly, the family secret was hard for her to share, but Reg said nothing.
“His daughter, my grandmother, married an American and moved to the States long ago and left all that history far behind her to start a new life.”
“And because of your family history . . .” With Lulu in h
er free arm, Grandmother stepped into the doorway, leaning on her cane.
They both turned to face her.
With the hint of a dramatic flair, she strolled all the way into the room. “Someone coming after you and shooting at you could have everything to do with the stolen painting.”
Nicole shifted her gaze between Reg and Harriet. The woman hadn’t been put off by Reg’s request for privacy. Had she listened to their entire conversation? Or simply happened upon this last bit?
Reg crossed his arms. “Explain.”
“Our family also immigrated from Europe. The painting has been in our family for decades. At one point, it had been stolen by the Nazis. Eventually it was returned, but now it’s gone again.”
The news would have knocked Nicole over had she not already been sitting. She rubbed her temples, wondering if she was about to experience a headache similar to Reg’s. “Since my great-grandfather was an art dealer for the Nazis, the Ashton Darrow could have been on the list of paintings the Nazis wanted to acquire. He could have been responsible for stealing it from your family.”
Nicole covered her mouth as she fought to grasp the implications. She couldn’t look at Reg. Not yet, but she felt his eyes on her all the same. Could they be so inexplicably connected?
“I need to know,” she said. “I need to find out if my great-grandfather was responsible for confiscating the painting during World War II.”
“While I think that could be a fascinating exploration,” Reg said, “I’m not so sure I agree that the past has anything to do with the present or even that the painting theft has anything to do with someone following us and taking shots at us. But after your explanation, Nicole, I’m less inclined to believe that I’m the target. I think this is about your confrontation with a dangerous collector who killed your father.”
“Wait,” Harriet said. “Here me out. You both came here today uncertain who was being followed. Isn’t it possible that you’ve both been targeted? You, Nicole, because you’re a private investigator and former member of the FBI Art Crime Team, and you, Reg, because you’re still FBI, aren’t you? Either of you could have initially been targeted for the reasons I mentioned. And now that you’re going to work together to find the painting, you’re certain to find it. Someone would rather take you out than risk your collaboration and sure success.”
Nicole finally lifted her gaze to meet Reg’s dark eyes. “She could be right. The man waited until we were both together to take the first shot.”
“It’s clear we have more questions than answers.” Reg stood and rolled up his sleeves as if ready to get his hands dirty.
Nicole found that particular look of his attractive.
He fisted his hand against his mouth, a familiar contemplative expression on his face, then dropped his hand. “Grandmother, I interrupted you this morning. You were on the phone with a friend.”
“Carly. Why?”
“If I’m not mistaken, she invited you to join her on a cruise, am I right?”
“You eavesdropped.”
“Not intentionally. I just happened to hear as I entered the room. Tell me about the cruise.”
“A friend contacted Carly to invite her. Said two friends were no longer able to join him, and he invited her and asked if she had a friend. It leaves tomorrow morning. I told her no, of course.” Harriet’s brow wrinkled. “Why so interested? Now isn’t the time for you two to take a cruise, for heaven’s sake.”
Harriet’s eyes grew wide as if she thought her matchmaking plan had actually worked.
“Not us. You should go.” Nicole was tracking with Reg. “It will free us to look into this without having to worry about protecting you.”
Harriet harrumphed. “So you’re getting rid of me.”
Reg chuckled and hugged his grandmother. The sight was so sweet, she turned away, lest some of her old feelings for him came back to life in full force.
“Call Carly back now,” Nicole said. “Before it’s too late. Tell her you’re going on that cruise.”
“I’m not sure I can be ready in time.”
“I’ll help you pack,” she said. “Anything you don’t have, just wing it. Really, Harriet. Any way you look at it, you’re caught in the middle. You brought us together to find the painting. Now, do this for us so we can focus.”
“All right, all right. You don’t have to ask twice.” Harriet hobbled into the kitchen, leaning on her cane more than usual. She released Lulu to run around and sniff. Lulu finally settled on her fluffy doggie pillow by the fireplace.
“Is there someone who can watch Lulu for you while you’re gone?” Nicole asked.
“Lulu is a certified service animal, dear.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. She helps me with anxiety. She’ll join me on the cruise.” Harriet chuckled.
Okay, then. Nicole followed Harriet to make sure she made the call. She could hear an exuberant Carly expressing her excitement that Harriet would join her on the cruise.
Lulu barked and raced to the door.
Nicole stiffened. A fifty-something brunette opened the door and stepped into the foyer. Hung her jacket on a coat rack then sauntered into the kitchen as if she owned the place.
Harriet smiled. “Oh, I forgot to call and tell you, but we have two guests for dinner this evening, Joyce.”
Two hours later, they’d enjoyed a cozy meal at the kitchen table. Harriet insisted it was a cozier environment than the long formal dining table. Joyce served them grilled steaks smothered in a mushroom sauce, a tossed salad, and roasted vegetables. She even prepared more meals for the fridge and freezer, in case Nicole and Reg remained at the house a few days. Nicole thought it strange they would take time out to enjoy life, to celebrate life, as Harriet put it, when they likely had a killer after them.
But they needed time to regroup and refuel and to think the situation through. At least Harriet would be safe and, while she was on the cruise, Reg and Nicole would find the answers.
Harriet’s suggestion that the painting’s Nazi connection was related to their current predicament seemed far-fetched. Reg was right about that. Most likely, this had nothing to do with their weirdly shared past.
Regardless, their earlier trouble today involved at least two of the possible scenarios surrounding art—Nicole’s warning to the dangerous collector, or Harriet’s stolen painting.
As the evening turned into dusk and the rain poured, Nicole wished she could simply watch the storm coming in and let all her troubles be swept away. Surely the skies would clear up and be beautiful tomorrow for Harriet on her cruise through the Inside Passage. Nicole was a little jealous, actually. She’d been so focused on solving her father’s murder that she’d let so much of life get away from her.
Her twin sister was who knew where. Her mother had moved to Missouri to be near her sister.
And Reg. Nicole had pushed the man of her dreams away too.
All that pushing others away on her mission had led her to this moment. Was she finally on the cusp of finding the truth?
Harriet lifted her flute of sparkling apple cider, pulling Nicole back from her thoughts. “I’d like to make a toast.”
Reg grinned and lifted his.
“Oh, dear . . .” Harriet’s mouth drew down.
“What is it?” Reg asked.
Harriet dropped her flute, and it shattered. “Someone’s out there!”
Chapter Seven
“Get away from the windows!” Reg pushed from the table and jumped to his feet. He urged Nicole and Grandmother to move to the far side of the kitchen.
“Grandmother, what did you see?”
He peered out. Below him waves crashed against the rocks.
“In the grass, over there.” She pointed to the left of the windows. A narrow portion of grass stood between the house and the cliff, but the direction she’d pointed would mean someone could be at the side or back of the house.
“It was only a glimpse,” she said. “Maybe I was mistaken.”
/>
Her reaction had been enough to shake them all. Whoever she’d seen had terrified her.
“We’re not taking any chances.” He held Nicole’s gaze. “Take Grandmother to the interior of the house and keep her safe.”
Then he readied his nine-millimeter.
“Lulu! Where’s my Lulu? Come here, baby.” Grandmother rushed away in search of Lulu.
Reg had never seen her move so fast and without her cane. He tucked that away for later consideration.
Nicole followed Grandmother, and he trusted she would keep her safe.
He closed the mini-blinds and peered through a slat, though he doubted he would see much as dusk grew even darker in the storm. Whoever was out there—if they had ill intentions—would be searching for a way in.
Reg flipped on every outside light, including those that led up the sidewalk to the porch.
“Pssst . . . Reg,” Nicole whispered from the hallway. “Should we turn the lights on in the house, too?”
“No. I know my way around. If someone comes inside, I’ll have the advantage. If anything, I need to turn what’s on off plus I can see outside as well.” Might be quicker if he headed to the breaker box. He’d prefer to head outside and catch the creeper before he gained entrance. Reg moved back to the kitchen and opened the catchall drawer to retrieve a flashlight. He turned off the lights as he went.
Then he located Nicole and Grandmother in the hallway bathroom. Easy enough to do with Lulu yapping.
“I can help you,” Nicole said.
“You’re right, you can. By keeping my grandmother safe.”
Nicole urged him away from Grandmother to whisper. “With what? I don’t have a gun.”
“Take mine.” He handed it to her. “I have another one in my room.” Plus, Grandfather had a collection of weapons in his study. “Call 9-1-1 too.”
The burner cell to her ear, she nodded. “I’ll tell them we have an intruder. To get here fast.”
Help would not arrive in time if someone intended harm.