Lauren got to her feet. “I appreciate this, Mrs. Hellstrom. I really do.”
Angeline reached out and put her palm on Lauren’s cheek. “My dear, you are very special, do you know that? I’ve heard such glowing things about you lately.”
Lauren’s face showed her surprise. “From whom?”
Angeline lowered her voice. “From someone who is most smitten with you, I fear.”
“Me?” Lauren gasped.
The smile that passed over Angeline’s face was gentle. “I’ve no doubt your life will be changing quite a bit from now on, Lauren.” Something strange flickered in the older woman’s eyes. “Enjoy it while you have it, dear.”
Lauren was stunned as the elegant lady bent forward and kissed her on the cheek, smiled, and then strode to the front door.
“I’ll see myself out.” She waved a slim hand in goodbye and pushed through the screened door.
Lauren stared after her, wondering about the unexpected visit from her landlady, someone the town saw only once or twice a year at most. Walking slowly to the porch, Lauren was in time to see the chauffeur open the white limousine door for his employer. The black man tipped his hat to Lauren and Lauren lifted a shocked hand in reply, watching until he was in the limousine and had pulled away from the curb. She turned back, staring blindly at her little living room.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” she breathed, unable to believe what she’d just experienced.
Louvenia Yelverton’s mouth was pursed into a vicious pout as she jammed the shop’s door key into the lock the next morning. Who would have thought, she fumed, that one little call from that slutty Angeline Hellstrom could ruin a person’s entire day? Slinging her purse onto the counter, the shop’s manager reached behind the counter to flip on the overhead lights. Outside, the sky was a dark, gunmetal gray and fat globules of rain were already beginning to strike against the sidewalk. It was just a little past 8:45 a.m. and the shop didn’t open until 9:30, but Louvenia had decided after church the day before to come in early so she could begin to go through the names of prospective employees to replace Inez and Karla. Just thinking about that Hellstrom woman insisting on interviewing all the candidates set Louvenia’s teeth on edge.
“It has been brought to my attention,” the bitch had told Louvenia Sunday afternoon, “that there has been more than one instance of employees not getting along in that store, Louvenia. I will not tolerate my girls sniping and causing trouble for one another.”
“There’s been only one employee who has caused any trouble, Mrs. Hellstrom,” Louvenia had told her.
“And I would imagine the main instigator in any situations that have occurred was Beth Janacek,” the Hellstrom tart had snapped. “She was a hateful little child, spoiled rotten by her parents, and she has become a spiteful grown woman with no regard for any one other than herself. I certainly did Marge and Henry Janacek no favor in hiring her to work at my store.”
“The problem has been Lauren Fowler, Mrs. Hellstrom,” Louvenia had informed her. “She just doesn’t fit in here.”
“Why? Because she’s too honest? Too sweet? Too willing to let Beth and Inez and Karla run all over her?”
Louvenia had ground her teeth. “The customers don’t like her. She’s—”
“She’s a personal friend of mine, Mrs. Yelverton,” the Hellstrom whore had said in a cold, non-compromising voice. “Do you understand my meaning?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hellstrom. I understand you perfectly.”
“Good. Then I expect you to make sure Lauren is treated in a manner I like.”
“I can’t speak for Beth, Mrs. Hellstrom,” said Louvenia. “The two women do not get along.”
“Beth Janacek’s days were numbered when she slapped Lauren Fowler, Louvenia. I suggest you think long and hard before you act in a similar manner!”
The phone line had gone dead with a thud.
“Whore!” Louvenia had growled at the phone, slamming the receiver down so hard her fingers tingled. “Just because you’ve got money doesn’t mean you own me!”
Now, waiting for the Fowler girl to return to work after she had fired her, Louvenia snarled with revenge. She hoped Beth would come in early so they could talk. Beth wasn’t going to like it one bit. Not one bit! Between the two of them, they were sure to find a way to make Lauren Fowler wish she’d never heard of the Composition Book Store.
The rain was coming down in silver sheets of slanting fury by the time Lauren finished dressing for work. She didn’t want to be late, especially today. One look at the gusting rain skittering across the street in front of her house made Lauren wish she could afford to call a taxi. But even if she could have afforded it, it wasn’t likely one of Horace McBride’s cabs was available on this side of town. Sighing, accepting the fact that she was going to get soaked, Lauren pulled her umbrella from the can by the door and unsnapped it. She stepped out onto her front porch just as thunder rumbled wickedly over the sky and the wind pushed fine sprinkles of rain through the mesh of the screened porch.
Lightning zigzagged across the street behind the Atherton’s house and the sky turned pale for a moment. The crack was loud and deadly sounding and it leant a cold dread to Lauren’s heart that she was going to have to be out walking the two blocks under such a violent sky.
The blare of a horn made her look up. A black, low-slung car had pulled up to her curb, its wipers sweeping furiously across the windshield. Its headlights slashed out into the dark morning, gilding the rain before it in twin beams. The car’s windows were darkly tinted so she couldn’t see inside, but there was a faint glow as the driver’s door opened. A figure, hunched over under the heavy onslaught of the rain, skirted the back of the car and ran toward her house. It wasn’t until his wet foot falls slapped against her sidewalk that Lauren recognized Syntian Cree.
“What on Earth are you doing?” she called out to him as he reached up a wet hand to pull open the outside screen door of her porch.
He was shivering, his lips trembling, stray wisps of his hair that had come undone from the band at the nape of his neck plastered against his left cheek. His thick lashes were spiked with fat rain droplets. “Your carriage awaits, my lady!” He laughed, reaching up to wipe the rain from his face. He sniffed, blinking away the raindrops. “May I carry you out to the car?”
“You most certainly may not!” she said, shocked. She stared at him, mouth open. At his unabashed, little boy grin, she snapped her mouth shut and tried to glare at him. “You are—”
He held up a wet hand. “I know. Incorrigible. A character fault, I fear.”
She shrugged, giving in to his charm. “I appreciate this. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll find a way.” He grinned, wagging his thick brows. He pulled open the door for her. “Ready?”
She looked at him, really liking what she saw. For one moment, as their eyes met and his gentle smile was just for her, she thought maybe things were going to be all right after all.
Louvenia plopped into the chair in her office and picked up the telephone once more. It was 9:23 a.m. and Beth was still not at the store. Any moment now that Fowler tramp would be coming through the front door and Louvenia was not prepared to be the only one in the store when she did. Dialing Beth’s number for the fifth time that morning, Louvenia listened to the steady ringing that went on unanswered.
“Where the blazes are you, girl?” Louvenia grumbled as she slammed down the receiver for the fifth time. She heard the bell ring over the front door and drew in a quick breath. With any luck at all, it was Beth.
She got up, walked smartly out her door and looked down the center aisle to see that absolutely mouthwatering Syntian Cree looking at her from the doorway. She smiled.
“My goodness! Aren’t you the early bird this morning? And on such a vile day, too!” She barely glanced at Lauren who stood next to the counter.
“My godson will be celebrating his twelfth birthday this coming Friday and I was hoping to pick up some bo
oks for him.” Syntian was smiling at the older woman as she made her way toward him. “He’s rather an avid reader and a big Michael Moorcock fan. He’s into all that sword and sorcery stuff.” He shoved his hand into the pocket of his black jeans and pulled out a damp piece of notebook paper. Unfolding it, he handed it to Lauren. “Can you help me find these books, Miss Fowler?”
Louvenia’s mouth tightened as her glance darted malevolently to Lauren. “Miss Fowler has been promoted to sales clerk and I’m afraid she has quite a bit of company paperwork to fill out this morning. But I would be happy to help you select some appropriate novels for your godson.”
A gleam of fire sparked in Syntian Cree’s face as he looked at the Yelverton woman. “I can come back when Lauren’s free,” he said, gauging the effect his words would have on the older woman. “I prefer to have the same clerk wait on me each time I patronize an establishment. It’s just good business, don’t you agree?”
Louvenia tried to smile, but her lips felt frozen. “If you prefer,” she managed to say although she hoped her tone told him she thought he was making a bad mistake. Her stare swung to Lauren. “You may help Mr. Cree, if you will, Miss Fowler.”
Lauren’s lips twitched as she turned away. “Of course, Mrs. Yelverton.” She glanced at Syn. “The science fiction section is over on the right side at the back, Mr. Cree.”
“You promised to call me, Syn, remember?” he admonished her, reaching out to pat Louvenia’s arm as he passed. He wasn’t surprised by the older woman’s reaction. She smiled wistfully at him and nodded.
“That makes for good business, too,” she agreed and wondered why the hell she’d said such a stupid thing. She was still wondering when the doorbell tinkled again and she turned away.
“This is quite a list,” Lauren said as she glanced over the book titles. She looked at him. “There must be fifty books here.”
“Some are no doubt out of stock or in the store room, I would imagine,” he said. “My guess is it’ll take you at least an hour or two to handle my order, don’t you?”
She stared at him. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
He grinned. “If things go the way I plan, Sweet Lady, you should just about be finishing up with the order when it’s time for you to take your lunch break.” He grinned wickedly. “A lunch I intend to buy for you.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” she laughed, loving the way his eyes crinkled at the corner when he smiled.
“With any luck at all.”
“Lauren!”
Lauren looked past him to find Louvenia Yelverton slumped in the arms of Sheriff Wiley Jackson. She glanced at Syntian then pushed past him to hurry to the front counter.
“What happened?” she asked, worried. Louvenia’s face was chalk white.
“Can you call Reed?” Wiley asked as he struggled to keep Louvenia from slipping out of his arms. “She’s just fainted, but I think she ought to go see Dr. Patrick.”
Syntian reached Louvenia just as Lauren turned to the phone. She saw him bend down and scoop the unconscious woman into his arms, heft her effortlessly to his chest and spin around on his heel, carrying her toward the back of the store.
“Reed Yelverton, please. It’s an emergency.” Lauren covered the mouthpiece of the phone and looked around at the Sheriff. “What happened to her?”
“I had some shocking news to tell her, Miss Lauren. It put her in a state, I guess.”
Lauren held up a hand to interrupt him as the phone at the other end was answered. “Mr. Yelverton? This is Lauren up at the store? I’m calling for Sheriff Jackson. You’d better come up here when you can. Mrs. Yelverton needs you.” She flinched as the connection was broken with a loud click. She turned to the Sheriff. “He’s on his way.” Hanging up the phone, she saw the stark worry in the lawman’s lined face. “Something else has happened, hasn’t it?”
Wiley Jackson nodded grimly. “It’s the Janacek girl, I’m afraid.”
Lauren’s blood ran cold. “Is she all right?”
The Sheriff took off his hat and ran the back of his arm over his forehead. “No, she ain’t.” He put the hat back on, pulled it low on his brow. “She’s dead.”
“How?” Lauren gasped.
The man’s face turned red. “I don’t reckon you ought to hear such things as how she was murdered.” He looked at her.
Syntian hunkered down beside Louvenia Yelverton as she lay moaning on the sofa in the break room. He watched as her eyelids fluttered open. In the glazed depths of her pupils, he saw the horror of what she’d been told. “Louvenia?” he asked softly, his voice urgent, demanding.
“Yes, Syn?” she asked dreamily, staring up into his mesmerizing eyes, falling through the space they opened up for her.
“I’ll be visiting you tonight, Louvenia.” He ran his finger down her arm. “Expect me.”
“Mr. Cree ?”
He turned, smiling as the sheriff stopped him at the door of the shop. “Yes?”
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the party the other night.” Wiley Jackson stepped out of the way as Reed Yelverton came rushing into the bookstore. He pointed toward the rear of the shop. “She’s back there, Reed. The Fowler girl is with her.”
Reed Yelverton barely glanced at Wiley and Syntian Cree as he hurried toward the back. His shoulders were hunched as though he expected a blow to his head at any moment.
“They’re very devoted to one another,” the Sheriff commented to Syntian. “Never had any children.”
“What was it you wanted to ask me?” Syntian asked. His face was open, direct, and friendly.
“One of my deputies dates Allen Turnbridge’s youngest daughter. He was at the party Saturday night and he said he saw you and Beth Janacek together.”
Syntian nodded. “We spent some time talking, yes.”
“Lin Dixon, that’s my deputy, told me Beth left early. About Nine-thirty.”
Syntian’s brows drew together. “I believe it was somewhere around that time.”
“Did you leave with her?” Wiley watched the tall man closely.
“No,” he answered, shaking his head.
“You didn’t drive her home?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Wiley Jackson squinted. “Florence Frazier, do you know her? She’s our County Clerk? Well, anyway, she remembers hearing you telling Miss Janacek that you would come by her apartment later that night.”
Syntian smiled. “Beth invited me to, yes, but I never made it over there.”
“And why is that?”
He let a dull flush spread over his face and he slipped on a look of chagrin. “I’m afraid Allen took my car key’s away from me, Sheriff. I was, shall we say, feeling no pain?”
“What time was that?” Wiley wrote something down in his notebook.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I called a friend about ten or so, I remember doing that because I was half-watching the baseball scores on the television in Allen’s den when I called her.”
“And who was it you called?”
“Lauren Fowler.”
Wiley Jackson’s brows shot up. “I suppose she could corroborate that?”
“I would think so. She was in bed when I called her; no doubt she glanced at the clock.” He smiled. “And there would be a record of the call, as well.”
Reed Yelverton walked through the store, his face puckered with annoyance. “She doesn’t want to go see Wes,” he grumbled. “Says she’s all right.”
“She had a pretty bad shock there, Reed,” Wiley commented. “I think she ought to go home.”
Yelverton’s face filled with anger. “That makes two of us, but she says the store won’t run itself and she’s gonna stay.” He stomped to the door and put his hand on the handle then turned and looked directly at Syntian. “I appreciate you carrying her back to the break room Mr. Cree.’’
Syntian nodded.
Louvenia’s husband swung his angry glower to the Sheriff. “How did Beth
die, Wiley?”
The Sheriff glanced at Syntian Cree, then looked at Yelverton. “From our preliminary findings, she choked to death.”
“How?” Reed Yelverton demanded. “Did the bastard strangle her?” At the Sheriff’s look of surprise, the real estate agent waved a dismissing hand. “Hell, Wiley! It’s all over town by now that she was murdered. I didn’t even make it out of the office before one of the secretaries told me what had happened!”
“I can’t discuss it with you, Reed. We’re still investigating.”
“You find him, Wiley!” Yelverton spat. “You find that pervert that’s going after our women.” He pushed through the door into the rain, his angry footsteps kicking up water as he ran across the street.
Syntian felt the Sheriff’s gaze come back to him and he looked away from Yelverton to look politely at his inquisitor .
“What time did you leave the party, Mr. Cree?”
“I tried to leave about eleven o’clock.”
“You tried to leave?”
“I didn’t quite make it.”
Jackson’s brows drew together over his thick nose. “Then how did you get home?”
“I didn’t.” Syntian watched the Sheriff’s mouth tightened. “Allen insisted I spend the night there; he was afraid I’d wrap myself and the Porsche around a pine tree on Chumuckla Highway on the way home. I crashed in his guest room that evening and the next morning, Olivia drove me home on her way to church at Pine Terrace Baptist.”
“Did you leave the Turnbridge house at any time that evening?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t in any condition to go anywhere, Sheriff Jackson.” He looked down at the floor. “Allen told me the next morning that I had passed out on the sofa in his den. He and some other gentleman got me up and took me to the guestroom. I kept insisting I could make it home, but Allen wouldn’t hear of it.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Do you make it a habit to drink until you pass out, Mr. Cree?”
“No, but it’s been a long, tiring week. I’ve been trying to get things settled at the house, get my business affairs in order up in New Haven. I’ve been out hunting for office space in Pensacola.”
NightWind 1st Book: HellWind Trilogy Page 6