Sergeant Kelly met her at the front door. “I’ll carry the tray, just in case.”
When they reached garden seat, he set it between them.
“I may not look like one, but I’m a tonic person,” said Riley as she opened her can.
“I’d never have believed it,” John Kelly commented. “I’ve always liked Pepsi. Must be the caffeine, I guess. But going on to more serious matters, I’m worried about you, Riley. A few days after being shot at, someone tries to run you down, leastwise, that’s what it sounds like.”
“I think it was just coincidence,” Riley replied. “The driver was probably drunk, that’s all.”
“Well, it may be so, but if anything else happens, I’m goin’ to take things a lot more seriously.”
That night, Riley fell asleep feeling better. It wasn’t everyone who had a large and good-natured RCMP officer batting for them, even if he hadn’t been able to figure out where the bullet came from.
On Wednesday, the weather turned wet. As a result, Riley was at home in the middle of the morning when the phone rang.
“Hi!” said Joni.
“Hey! Does this mean you’re coming to visit?”
“Sure thing. I’ve got ten days off my summer job. Booked a flight for the eighteenth, returning on the twenty-eighth. If that’s too long…”
“Of course not! Fantastic! Do you know I’ve missed you, Joni? We’ll have a great time, I promise.” Riley decided not to mention her recent narrow escapes in case Joni was put off, so she said, “And how’s the big TO?”
They chatted on for a while, then she hung up after arranging to meet Joni at the airport.
As Riley drove to the doctor’s office in Portugal Cove, she reflected how lucky it was that her left knee had been hurt and not her right, otherwise driving would have been difficult. After removing the bandage, the doctor seemed satisfied with Doris’s first aid. He administered a tetanus shot, then advised her how to look after the injury. It wasn’t deep enough to leave a scar and should heal up in a week or so.
Chapter Seven
The Weatherman
On Thursday morning after breakfast, Riley called Jean. She wanted to tell her about Joni’s upcoming visit and the car incident.
“Hi!” Jean answered. “How about dropping by for coffee? I’m working the afternoon shift today.”
“Thanks, but I’m afraid—hang on! I think there’s a car coming.”
Riley placed the receiver beside its cradle then hobbled to the living room window. There was indeed a car in the driveway, a sky-blue BMW sedan, spotless and gleaming as if freshly polished. As she watched, a woman got out of the driver’s door and looked around. She was tall with graying blonde hair and wore a navy blue business suit. Riley guessed her age at fortyish. Even at this distance, her makeup appeared impeccable. In her hand was a black briefcase.
Riley returned to the phone. “Looks like someone’s lost their way. I’ll get rid of her and call you back.” She hung up and opened the front door.
“Good morning,” said the woman, her finger poised above the doorbell. “I’m Bethany O’Shea from Lillington Realty. I apologize for stopping by unannounced. Can you spare me a few minutes?”
“Of course,” replied Riley, extending a hand. “I’m Riley Barnett. Please come in and have a seat.”
Bethany O’Shea didn’t comment on Riley’s bandage, but went directly to the dining table. Fortunately, the breakfast dishes been cleared away. Riley sat opposite while the real estate agent opened her briefcase and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” she said in a rather deep voice with barely a trace of Newfoundland accent. “A certain gentleman who has requested anonymity, is interested in this property. He heard that the owner had passed away and bequeathed it to a relative. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Riley replied. “I’m his niece. But the house is not—”
“This man is very rich, Miss Barnett. From what we know of the property, it’s perfect for the seclusion he desires. I can promise that you’ll get a very good offer indeed, well above market value.”
“I was about to say, Ms. O’Shea, that the place is not for sale.” Something in Riley’s head flipped a switch; the woman’s interest seemed to trigger a latent desire in the back of her mind. “As a matter of fact, I plan to stay here indefinitely.”
The realtor looked somewhat taken aback. “I wonder if you’ll feel the same after a Newfoundland winter, especially out here where it’s rather isolated. In case you change your mind, would you object if I assess the place? It’s always useful to know how much your home is worth.”
Riley pushed back her chair. “Ms. O’Shea, let me repeat, I do not want to sell. Is that clear?”
Bethany O’Shea put the sheet of paper back in the briefcase. She snapped it shut and jumped to her feet, obviously quite angry. “You’re a very foolish young woman. You won’t get no offer like this again!”
Riley couldn’t help noticing the slight lapse in the woman’s cultured accent as she stalked out of the door without another word.
“Well,” Riley said aloud, “I wonder what all that was for.” She stepped onto the deck to watch as the BMW turned then disappeared down the driveway. The moment it was out of sight, she returned to the phone.
Jean answered, then Riley said, “Sorry about that. You’ll never guess who it was: a real estate agent. She has a rich buyer for the house, in spite of the fact that it isn’t for sale.”
“Really. If you don’t mind my asking, what was her name?”
“Bethany O’Shea. She’s quite a sophisticated woman. That was my impression, anyway.”
“Blonde, smartly dressed, puts on airs?”
“You got it. Do you know her?”
“Not personally, but she has a reputation—been involved in a few shady deals, I’m told. Did you come to an agreement of some sort or sign anything?”
“Certainly not. The house isn’t for sale. I made that quite clear and she left in a snit.”
“Good for you! My advice is keep away from her.”
“I’ll certainly do that. Actually, the reason I called was to tell you that my roommate has finally made up her mind to come for a visit.”
“That’s great. When’s she arriving? The thing is, I’d like you to meet Jonathan and was hoping you could come to dinner next Tuesday; it’s his only spare evening for quite a while.”
“Joni won’t be here ‘til the week after next and I’d love to come to dinner. You’ve told me so much about this fabulous boyfriend and I haven’t even set eyes on him.”
“Can you get here about four? That will give us some time together. And how about coffee right now?”
“Well, much as I’d like to, I’m supposed to be resting my knee. You see, some drunkard almost ran me over yesterday.” Riley described what had happened.
“My God!” Jean exclaimed. “You poor thing! Life’s getting a bit hairy, isn’t it?”
“That’s pretty much what John Kelly said.”
“Listen. Look after yourself, okay? Talk to you later.”
In the course of the next few days, Riley’s knee healed up well. On Sunday morning, she called her father and Marion in Australia, making sure to leave out any mention of the bullet and the drunken driver. In actual fact, the two incidents had shaken her badly, so much so that she had problems sleeping. The desire to stay, which Riley had made so clear to the real estate agent, was weakening rapidly. Selling up and going back to Toronto was becoming an attractive proposition. On Monday morning, things began to look up. The scrape was almost better, so Riley paid a much needed visit to the supermarket.
Jean felt nervous about introducing Riley to Jonathan. Maybe Jonathan would like Riley more than he should, or was it the other way around? Whatever the reason, Tuesday afternoon had arrived and the two would meet very soon.
The dinner menu consisted of barbecued filet mignon with home grown salad from her parents’ greenhouse and veget
able garden. There was white wine to go with snacks and a burgundy for the main course. If it rained, the barbecue could be moved into the large back porch behind the kitchen area.
Jean had spent the latter part of the morning getting things organized; as a result, there were few things left to do during the afternoon. She was thinking about preparing the salad and snacks when Riley drove up. Jean watched her get out of the station wagon and noticed a brown paper bag in her hand.
The two met by the front door.
“Hi,” Riley greeted, handing over the bag. “Here’s something decadent to go with the coffee.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Jean replied, extracting a box of assorted liqueur chocolates. “Oh, dear! I’m addicted to these. But how’s the knee?”
“Almost better, thanks.”
“Come on in. You can tell me some more about the realtor while I fix the salad.”
Riley shut the door behind them and they headed for the kitchen. She sat on a stool by the bar while Jean took some lettuce and tomatoes from the fridge.
“I’m really curious about Ms. Bethany O’Shea, or rather what she wanted,” Jean began.
“It’s like I said,” replied Riley. “She had a rich buyer for the house and suggested I could make a lot of money. When I told her I wasn’t interested, she asked if she could assess the property. By this time I was losing my patience so I turned her down again—and in no uncertain fashion. That was when she got quite snarky and stalked out. What puzzles me is how she knew so much about the place.”
“This is Newfoundland, Riley, not Toronto. Everyone knows everything ‘round here, especially realtors.”
“So it seems.”
Jean started washing some lettuce. “When did you say your roommate’s coming? You two sound like good buddies.”
“On the eighteenth. Actually, we weren’t particularly good friends until I inherited the house. Before that, I thought she was a bit dull and moody. I’ve no idea how she felt about me. When the letter from Mr. McGrath came, I wanted to go out and celebrate and she was the only one around. That gave us a chance to get better acquainted.” Riley chuckled. “Actually, we had a fair amount to drink. It loosened things up a bit.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
Riley was still sitting on the bar stool when Jean heard the familiar sound of Jonathan’s black Camaro. By the time she had rinsed her hands and gone outside, it was parked behind the station wagon. Jonathan closed the door with a well-oiled ‘snick.’ In spite of the fact that he had come straight from his job at the Public Health Laboratories, he looked fresh and well-groomed in a pale sport coat and dark gray pants. He wore his black hair quite long and had a small moustache and goatee.
Whenever they kissed, which they did at this moment, their touch always sent shivers down Jean’s spine. The kiss continued as she put her arms around his neck and Jonathan pulled her against his muscular body.
“Come on,” said Jean, drawing back. “We’d better get inside. Riley will be wondering what we’re doing.”
“I sure hope she lives up to everything you’ve said about her,” Jonathan replied in his deep, almost resonant voice. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I left something in the car.”
Jean stood aside as he opened the passenger’s door and picked up a bunch of red roses from the front seat.
“For a very sexy girl,” he said, handing them over. “Too bad I have to go to work tomorrow. We could have spent the night together.”
Jean smelt the roses. “Jonathan, they’re gorgeous. I’ll introduce you to Riley while I put them in water.”
Riley turned on her stool as they entered. “Hi, Jonathan! It’s nice to meet you at last.”
Jonathan crossed the room. They shook hands.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he said.
Jean opened a china cabinet and took out a vase for the roses. “How about some white wine?” she suggested. “I’ve set up a table on the lawn by the back porch.”
Jonathan smiled at Riley and walked around to the kitchen side of the counter. “Let me open the bottle,” he said.
Riley slipped off her stool. She picked up a tray from the bar and put three glasses on it. “I’ll take these outside.”
By the time she was out of earshot, Jonathan was pulling the cork from a bottle of French Chablis. “She seems a real nice kid,” he said as the cork came out with a pop.
“She is a nice kid. If you go and pour the wine, I’ll bring some more snacks.”
Jonathan headed for the back door while Jean took some mini-quiches out of the oven and put them on plates. She followed him and found Riley sitting at the circular patio table. Jonathan was bending over to fill her wine glass—Jean couldn’t help noticing when their eyes met.
Riley’s face lit up with that fetching smile of hers. “Thanks,” she said, “but not too much!”
“Jean’s told me about the strange things that have happened to you,” he said. “Apart from the stray bullet, you had a narrow escape from a drunken driver. And there was something else, wasn’t there?”
“Someone put a dead rat in my mailbox the day before I moved in. Then I saw the white moose.”
Jonathan turned to Jean. “You never mentioned that one, honey.”
“I probably forgot. As a matter of fact, I thought Riley saw a large dog.”
“It was right at the back of the property,” Riley added. “I never got a good look at it, but the thing followed me for quite a distance.”
“It sounds like a dog, doesn’t it?” Jonathan commented.
“I looked up ‘albino moose’ at work,” Jean continued. “There are such things, rare, of course. The book didn’t say if there were any in Newfoundland.”
“Whatever it was frightened me out of my wits,” said Riley. “But Jonathan, what were you getting at before we started talking about the moose?”
“It occurred to me that three intimidating events in such a short period of time might be more than just coincidence. As for the moose, an animal not a person was involved, so it doesn’t fit the pattern. What I’m suggesting is that someone might not like you, Riley.” Jonathan glanced at her. “Why, I can’t imagine.”
“But there are logical explanations for all three incidents,” said Riley. “The dead rat was probably put in the mailbox by kids, the bullet was fired by some careless hunter and the car was driven by a drunk. There’s no connection between any of them.”
“It’s only a hunch, I guess,” said Jonathan, draining his glass.
Jean turned to Riley. “By the way, did you ever see the autopsy report on your uncle? He was supposed to have died from a heart attack, right?”
“That’s what Mr. McGrath said. But Doris thought he’d been poisoned. She said you told her there were poisons that couldn’t be detected.”
“That’s right,” said Jean. “But I also told her she was getting a bit carried away. I still think you should take a look at the autopsy report if only to confirm that it really was a heart attack. I’m surprised Mr. McGrath didn’t offer to show it to you.”
“There could have been a delay,” said Jonathan. “I have a friend at the Health Sciences Centre. He mentioned that things have been backed up for quite a while in some departments. Why don’t I call him and see what I can find out?”
“That would be great,” Riley replied. “I forgot about the autopsy when I told my parents about the heart attack. I guess I should send them the report.”
Jean turned to Jonathan. “Do you want to barbecue the meat while I get the rest of the dinner?”
Jonathan stood. “Sure, honey. It’s one of my favorite activities.”
Riley pushed back her chair. “I’ll give you a hand, Jean.”
By the time they’d finished their drinks, a cool breeze had arisen so they ate the meal indoors. It went without a hitch. Afterwards, they had coffee and sampled Riley’s liqueur chocolates in the living room. Jonathan and Jean had been cuddling on the settee for a while when Jonat
han lifted Jean’s hand and looked at her watch.
“It’s getting dark,” he said. “Time I was on the move. Unlike some people, I have to work tomorrow.”
Riley stayed in her chair as Jean extricated herself.
She pulled Jonathan to his feet. “I’ll see you out.”
Jonathan looked at Riley. “You sure have an eventful life. It’s been a pleasure and I’ll be in touch about the autopsy report.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Riley.
Jean went ahead to the front door and switched on the outside light.
From where Riley was sitting, she was able to see the Camaro and couldn’t help watching them kiss. There was no doubt that Jonathan was an attractive guy, but somehow he seemed a little too much of a smoothie, too self-assured and conscious of his own good looks. Riley came to the conclusion that she didn’t like him, on the other hand she didn’t dislike him either. Also, he seemed just a little old, though a good match for Jean. She had mentioned he was thirty-four, or was it thirty-six? She couldn’t remember.
Jean closed the front door behind her as the roar of the Camaro faded into the night.
“I guess I’ll be going too,” said Riley, getting out of her chair.
“How about a cup of coffee first? I’ve got some decaf.”
“Well…okay. That would be nice.”
Riley perched on a barstool while Jean put on the kettle.
“It’s only instant.”
“That’s fine. I was just thinking how handsome Jonathan is. Where did you meet him?”
“At one of my parents’ stuffy cocktail parties. I remember he came on his own.” Jean took a carton of milk out of the fridge. “Did I tell you he’s quite athletic? He plays a lot of tennis and rows in the regatta. Speaking of which, we should go and watch him.”
“When and where’s this regatta?” Riley asked.
“I guess you don’t know about that. It’s a big do at Quidi Vidi Lake. Every summer, there’s a civic holiday on the first Wednesday in August. It’s actually a fair as well as a regatta.”
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