Regaining her balance, she glared. “I’ll admit the sex is good. Work on the foreplay.” Turning on her heel, she approached a quivering Ethel Lynn and jabbed a finger toward the large tumbler of amber liquid. “What is this?”
“Bourbon. Men like bourbon.” Patting her brow, Ethel Lynn stared at Hugh like he was a grizzly bear set loose in her parlor. “He needs a calming influence.”
“Not as much as I do.” With a toss of her head, Birdie downed half the glass. Flinching, she smiled maniacally at Ethel Lynn before finishing the drink. Then she turned the flustered old woman in the direction of the kitchen. “Off you go. Don’t come back until I call you.”
Ethel Lynn scurried off with her tray rattling.
Birdie planted her hands on her hips. “Okay—out with it,” she said, freezing Hugh with an arctic stare. “What’s going on and why should I care?”
Chapter 24
A shriek rang out from the bathroom.
Hugh flinched. “What was that?”
“Delia.” Birdie planted her hands on his chest, stopping him from heading off to investigate. He’d done something stupid and she damn well wanted to know what it was. “Not so fast. We aren’t done talking.”
“Sounds like someone’s hacking off her arm.”
“She’s fine.” Birdie pushed him back a step. “Out with it. I’m getting a bad feeling.”
Hugh muttered a curse. Swinging away, he gripped the edge of the mantle.
A sudden, queasy doubt settled in the pit of her stomach.
He turned around and faced her. “There’s a story coming out in the morning edition of the Register about you and your family.”
“Ralston talked to your friend, the PI?” Numb, she tried to formulate her thoughts. “You said my story was safe if you kept your job at the Register.”
“I was wrong. Ralston was already working on the article.”
“Stop him!”
“I quit this afternoon when my editor told me the article is going forward.”
“Fix it, Hugh.” Hurt and anger wrestled for prominence in her heart. “I don’t care what you have to do. Keep my family out of the paper.”
“I can’t. But I’ll protect you. We’ll go to my place in Akron, ride it out.”
Was he kidding? She was about to object when Delia stormed into the room flinging water droplets from her soggy head.
“Look at my hair!” The waitress grabbed at her close-cropped locks, which were a vibrant shade of… green.
Hugh cocked his head. “If you were going for honey blonde you missed the mark.”
Birdie held up her hand to halt Delia from lunging toward her. “One second.” She wheeled on Hugh. “Tell me how you’ll fix this.”
“We’ll weather it together,” he said, sidestepping the question. She considered knocking him off his feet. “You were never meant to be a criminal.”
Delia frowned, trying to keep up. “It is criminal to screw up another woman’s hair. But she doesn’t deserve jail time. A stiff fine, maybe.”
Ignoring the comment, Hugh zeroed in on Birdie. “You knew you’d have to give up the search for the rubies. And I wish I could make it so you won’t be on the front page of the Register. Now we have to deal with it.”
Delia stopped fiddling with her hair. “Did you say rubies?” She grabbed Birdie. “You’ll be on the front page of Hugh’s paper? Like a celebrity?”
Hugh scratched his temple. “Think America’s Most Wanted.”
“Oh. That’s not good.” Considering, Delia slicked back the hair plastered to her forehead. “Birdie, you’re a wanted woman?”
“I want her,” Hugh said, “but for personal reasons.” He regarded Birdie with a faint smile. “I’ll find a way to make this up to you. Can you forgive me, Eggplant?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
Delia rolled her eyes. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”
Birdie nudged her toward the bathroom. “No offense, but this is private. I’ll explain later.”
After the waitress marched off, she cornered Hugh by the fireplace. At least the man was perspiring—little beads of moisture were collecting on his brow. Not much, but enough to imply the discomfort he richly deserved.
Grimacing, he tried reaching for her. “Birdie, there’s something else.” She moved away and he let his hand fall to his side. “Trinity investments will be featured in Ralston’s article, front and center.”
“The investment firm Landon Williams owned?”
The wheels in her brain clattered to a standstill. Then her thoughts tumbled forward in a terrifying whirl as the awful pieces fell into place. She recalled Hugh telling her about Trinity and a woman who drowned in Lake Erie. Then she remembered what Meade had said about Landon’s destructive love affair. She hadn’t connected the two events. In a state of shock, she did so now.
Wish.
“The woman, the one Landon gave all the money to,” she whispered, “it was my mother.”
“I didn’t know. I never interviewed her.”
“Of course you didn’t. She’s a pro. She knows when to get out.” Apprehension curled in her belly. “How much did my mother steal from Landon?”
Dragging his hand through his hair, Hugh seemed disinclined to say. “Several hundred thousand,” he finally got out.
The numbers were staggering. Wish had made a major kill. My God, no wonder the Feds were after her—she’d earned a seat in the major leagues long ago, when Birdie was still a kid. Of course, Wish never bragged about her exploits. She trusted no one.
Ruefully, Birdie shook her head. “I didn’t know about the money. I’m sure my dad didn’t either. Wish must’ve stashed it somewhere away from us.”
This brought a startled glance from Hugh. “Your mother was rich. She never told you?”
“Never told me, never used the money when I was around. I went to school in clothes scavenged from Goodwill.” Hugh stared at her with pity and it was too much, an additional burden she couldn’t bear. With savage honesty, she added, “Hey, who am I to complain? If I’d found the rubies I wouldn’t have shared them with her either.”
Wretched self-loathing brought her head up. What right did she have to feel betrayed? Greed ran thick in her family. It was foolish to think she could be like Theodora. She was just like Wish.
Dragging her gaze from his, she said, “By the way, I knew about my mother and Landon Williams.” Wearily, she explained how Theodora had taken her to meet his daughter, Meade. Wrapping up, she added, “From what I gathered, my mother had an on and off relationship with Landon for years. She probably went to him whenever my dad was in the pen. Tanek never stayed on the outside for very long.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you met with Meade?”
“It wasn’t important.”
“Like hell it’s not.”
His accusatory tone sent her despair fleeing. “What? And give you more material to write about?” A cheap shot, but she was hurt and frightened and only just beginning to understand everything she’d lose. “What am I supposed to do when Meade sees the story? She’ll be gunning for me. I shouldn’t stand here talking—I should be getting the hell out of here.”
“I didn’t write the story, Ralston did!”
“Then find him,” she snapped. “Take his laptop and break it into a million pieces. If he’s already delivered the story, sneak into the Register. Do something to the computers. Trash them, crash them—I don’t care.”
“They’re already running the presses,” Hugh said with surprising calm. Anguish creased his face. “It’s over, Birdie.”
“Do you have any idea what will happen to me?”
He stared at her.
“I’ll go to prison.”
Hugh grimaced. “Possibly. It’s something every criminal has to consider.”
The noncommittal reply sent fury whipping through her. “I’m not going to prison.” She pushed him, hard, but he didn’t budge. His obstinacy merely increased her rage. �
��I’ll break into the Register, take a hammer to the presses—
Spinning on her heel, she felt Hugh’s arms clamp around her sides. Her feet lifted wildly into the air.
“Don’t touch me!” She tried to break free as he spun her to face him. His hold tightened. “Damn it—let go!”
“I’m not letting you go off and do something crazy. You need my help. You need me.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
His dark eyes glittered. “What have you got without me? A shallow, pathetic life skipping from town to town? This is your chance to turn it around. Take it.”
Sorrow punched through her pride. “My life was set the day I was born.” She was nothing like Lucas or Theodora. What was she, really? A thief like her mother. A fumbling criminal who’d spend time in the pen like her father. “You can’t help me. No one can.”
The explanation stole the heat from his eyes. “Then you’re leaving.” He released her. Frowning, he pulled a wad of bills from the pocket of his jeans. “My last paycheck. It’s yours.”
“I don’t want your money.” The urge to rush into his arms collided with her pride. None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t asked a PI to pry into her life. Brutally, she added, “Why in God’s name did I ever trust you?”
The words struck him like a glancing blow. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, not this deeply. The urge to cry swept through her, a sudden, painful rush of emotion.
“I didn’t mean… ” The apology on her lips evaporated beneath his hooded gaze. Regret sent pinpricks of pain through her chest. She had no right to wound him so deeply. He was an easy target. She was angry with herself.
He scrubbed his palms across his face. “You never did trust me.” He shook his head ruefully. “Jesus. Why am I surprised? I don’t trust you, either. Not really. Not the way I should if I want to make something real with you.”
Birdie sank down on the couch. When she couldn’t find her voice, he glanced around the room. Patches of grey covered the grizzled skin of his cheeks. Noticing his coat where he’d tossed it on a chair, he stalked past her and put it on.
He gazed at her with chilly regard, and the sorrow in her heart increased. “I’ve already moved my stuff out of the apartment. If I were you, I’d get packed.”
“Hugh, I didn’t mean—”
“Take a bus out of Liberty first thing tomorrow,” he said, cutting her off. His voice, utterly void of emotion, made her blood ran cold. “Set up shop on the other side of the country. It won’t buy you freedom but it might buy time.”
“Hugh—”
The words died in her throat. He was already gone.
Chapter 25
The intercom buzzed. Sighing, Meade closed her eyes.
With the holiday season in full swing, department stores in Cleveland were reordering at a hectic pace. Two of her customer reps were out with the flu and a shipment of cosmetics was lost somewhere between New York and Ohio.
None of which was a catastrophe. Still, she was frazzled and it was still early.
The intercom went blessedly silent. She hadn’t been herself since her meeting with Birdie. She still wasn’t sure if Theodora’s young friend was telling the truth or was in fact Wish Greyhart’s daughter. Meade resolved to get to the bottom of it after the holiday rush.
The light knock on her office door brought her from her musings. Her assistant entered.
“I buzzed you,” Siki said. “You didn’t pick up.”
No doubt the lost shipment of cosmetics had been found. “Tell me good news.”
“It’s not the shipment. Zelda, the new secretary from Akron—”
“What happened?” Unease slithered through Meade’s veins. Something was terribly wrong. Siki looked nervous and she was usually the epitome of calm. “Was the secretary in an accident driving to work?”
“She’s fine.” Siki glanced over her shoulder. “Something else has come up.”
Meade realized the door was ajar. An arm decorated with chunky gold bracelets popped into view, and something was handed off to Siki. A newspaper.
Approaching, she held the paper away from her body as if it carried the plague. “There’s an article in the Akron Register about you and your father,” she said, kicking out the foundation of Meade’s world, “and some criminal named Birdie Kaminsky. You’re on the front page.”
* * *
Everything was packed.
With misgiving, Birdie dropped the tips she’d earned during the last week into a plastic bag and stuffed it into a pocket of her coat. She’d already filled a duffel bag with everything she’d bought during her short stay in Liberty—clothing and a few toiletries. A soft hum of music drifted from the opposite end of the second floor where Mary had reopened her medical practice. Threads of conversation drifted down the hallway—probably more of her staff coming in to work. Farther off a thumping rose from the kitchen followed by the banging of pots. Finney, in the middle of the breakfast rush.
The cook expected Birdie to clock in at noon. She’d be disappointed. The Greyhound to Indiana left in twenty-five minutes.
With the Akron Register on newsstands this morning, it was only a matter of time before the news would travel north. Best to leave before anyone in Liberty read the paper.
With regret, Birdie took one last look at the apartment. The kitchen was tidy and the pillows on the couch nicely plumped. Hugh had already cleared out—by the time she’d returned from Ethel Lynn’s house last night he’d stripped the place of his belongings.
A gloomy lethargy accompanied her to the stairwell. It was all for the best. If she saw Hugh again she wouldn’t know what to say. She was a thief who’d never learned the first thing about trust. He was better off without her.
“Going somewhere?”
Startled, she halted midway down the steps. The duffel bag tumbled past her, landing with a thud beside Blossom Perini.
Where the kid sat eating, of all things, a chocolate sundae.
“Nice breakfast choice.” Birdie picked up her duffel bag and brushed past.
Blossom latched onto the hem of her coat. “Birdie, don’t go.” The teen put her sundae on the step and got to her feet. “You’re running away, aren’t you?”
“I have some errands before my shift.” Lousy move to lie to a thirteen year old, but she didn’t have a choice. “Why aren’t you in school?”
Now it was Blossom’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I cut first period.”
“You shouldn’t skip school. There’s nothing more important than an education.”
“I wanted to see you.” Hesitating, Blossom wrinkled her nose. “This morning, when I woke up? The weather was pretty bad. I thought there’d be a snow day so I checked the television for school closings… and there was your photo.”
Birdie went rigid with fear. “My photo’s on the tube?” She got a distressing image of a raging mob from a Frankenstein movie chasing her with raised torches. “Geez, Blossom. Which channel?”
“It was on the early morning program. The show with the old guy and the stupid quote of the day?”
“Oh, no.”
“Is it true you steal things?”
“Oh, God.”
“Hey, I’m just curious. You’re kind of like Catwoman only without the black tights.” Grinning, Blossom twirled one of her corkscrew curls. “Did you really come to Liberty because of some goofy fairy tale about jewelry?”
“Jewels,” Birdie corrected. Absently, she dug her hand into her pocket and drew her fingers across the velvet sack. The ruby-studded key had led her exactly nowhere. Except to America’s Most Wanted. And to think, Hugh had been joking when he’d made the crack to Delia.
Blossom giggled. “Rubies, right?”
“You got it. And no, I didn’t find them.” She stared yearningly at the daylight spreading rapidly down the hallway. Get out now. “Well, gotta go.”
A dash to freedom never materialized. At the other end of the hallway, the door from the kitchen banged open.
Delia wheeled forward, her face stony and her green hair nicely tinseled in gold and silver. “Blossom—grab her!”
The kid put her own spin on the command by hugging Birdie around the waist. Not exactly your typical apprehension of a criminal.
“You aren’t going anywhere!” the waitress sputtered. “We’re in this mess because of you. Theodora is in the dining room beating people back with a broom. If I hadn’t stowed her satchel, she would’ve shot someone by now.”
Scared and stunned, Birdie gently disengaged from Blossom’s embrace. “Where’s Ethel Lynn?”
“Back home, changing into nice rags. Her words, not mine. A photographer from one of the Cleveland newspapers is snapping pictures, and she wants to look her best. Meaning I’m stuck alone in nutcase central.”
Birdie’s newly discovered familial tie to Theodora brought up her defenses. “Take a chill pill. Theodora’s eccentric but she’s not a nutcase.”
“I’m talking about the customers—the ones you’ll help me handle.”
With that, she dragged Birdie into the kitchen. The place was a shambles. Dirty dishes stood a mile high beside the sink. Clumps of oatmeal dotted the floor. Three sausage links, uncooked, hung off the edge of a counter.
Finney barreled across the room with her spatula at the ready. Sheer terror seized Birdie.
“Say you’ve never so much as stolen a dime from my purse and you’ll live.” The cook whipped the spatula around like a machete. Birdie leapt back, cowering. “Shame, Birdie—shame! How a nice young thing like you—I gave you a job, didn’t I?”
Meeting the cook’s eyes was impossible. “Finney, I swear I never stole anything from you. I’m not crazy. You’d scare the mafia.”
Delia rubbed at her nose. “Did you take anything from me?”
The hurt quivering across her face was worse than the cook’s fury. Heartsick, Birdie fumbled around the inside of her coat and withdrew a ten-dollar note. “I took it weeks ago,” she admitted, mired in self-loathing. Delia was her friend. No more. “I never took anything else. Once we got to know each other—”
Treasure Me Page 24