“Afraid not,” he said easily. “I was passing by, thought I’d stop by to check in with you.”
“With me?” Alarm flickered in her eyes, but he didn’t get excited; most people got worried when he came looking for them. “Have you found out something about Aunt Edith?”
“Afraid not. Although I’ve been in and out of her place a lot these past few weeks, as you probably know.”
“There does seem to have been some excitement there.” She gave a quirky smile. “I kind of pay attention, since I owned the building for a little while.”
Thirty years old in March, Corinne Bissett must have been a lot prettier before she started looking hard. He guessed she smoked, which had an aging effect. Or maybe it was just the heavy makeup, the too obvious cleavage and the white-blond hair contrasting with darker roots. Ben’s gaze flicked to her hand—no wedding or engagement ring. She did have pierced ears, along with probably 90 percent of the other women her age, today wearing something dangly.
“Seems odd, doesn’t it? Your aunt getting killed, and then the woman who bought the building having so much trouble.”
Just as she always had, she argued, “I still can’t believe anyone pushed Aunt Edith. Why would they? She was a nice old lady. She’d lived there forever and ever. Everybody liked my aunt.”
That was true enough, although a few times Ms. Bissett had slipped a little, revealing the sharpness and irritation she had felt for Mrs. Jefferson. That in itself wouldn’t have been enough to make him suspect her of her aunt’s murder. The young often had reason to find the elderly exasperating. Corinne probably hadn’t expected to be stuck with the responsibility of an aging aunt. But she was the only remaining family—and she was Edith Jefferson’s heir.
She’d had an alibi. He’d verified her airline tickets and the hotel room in New York City, where she and a couple of girlfriends had met up to sample big-city life. He’d had to rule her out, even though she was the only person who seemed to benefit from Mrs. Jefferson’s death. That, and he’d seen right through her pretense at grief.
“You know why we’re certain she didn’t just fall.” He kept his response mild, although she’d seen the spot dented in the wall by her aunt’s head. Common sense said Edith Jefferson couldn’t fly. Still, denial was a normal human failing.
Ben didn’t like coincidences, though, and the idea of two intruders in the same building, albeit a year apart, both seemingly having keys to let themselves in, nagged at him. She was one of only two people who’d admitted to having a key, and the other one was a dear friend of Mrs. Jefferson’s, also in her seventies. Ms. Bissett could have kept a key. There’d been nothing to stop her from making as many copies as she wanted before she signed the papers selling the building.
All of that would bother him even more if Ms. Bissett had any interest in the value of quilts or had showed her face that day at the auction.
He had solved other crimes this way, though. He didn’t let people drop from his radar. A cop stopping by to see them now and again tended to make people edgy. Especially people with guilty consciences. Edgy enough, sometimes, to do something stupid.
Corinne was tough, though. He could tell she didn’t like having him here, but she stayed calm.
Ben settled himself comfortably against the counter. “So, were you able to buy a house once the inheritance came through?” He didn’t add, “What about a really nice pair of diamond earrings?” He couldn’t imagine she’d admit that, not if she’d happened to lose one in the alley behind Nadia’s building.
Her chin rose as if he’d made an accusation. “Yes, I did. I was really tired of always having to share to cut costs.” Only then she wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes I’m sorry, though. I didn’t think about having to mow my own lawn.”
Ben laughed despite himself. “I have to admit, I don’t love mowing.”
She grinned. “Can’t call the landlord to whine if the shower starts dripping or the furnace craps out, either.”
“But you can call a repairman without waiting days to hear from your landlord first.”
With them both laughing now, he left it at that. His only goal had been to remind her that he had his eye on her, and he’d accomplished that.
* * *
“I WANT TO sue them all,” Nadia snapped. “Starting with that creep—” her gaze strayed to the newspaper on the table “—Rutledge. He was sweet as shoofly pie when he came to interview me about the store opening. I’ve never talked to the man again!” She slapped the paper. “He doesn’t know me at all, but he despises me?”
“No.” Ben almost told her to sit down, but knew better. Wounded or not, she needed to vent some of her anger and pain. “He wants to make people talk. Sell papers and advertising. I doubt he gives a damn about you one way or another.”
She stopped to look at him. “You don’t sound as if you like him, either.”
“I don’t. And the feeling is mutual. Whatever the crime, if we haven’t made an arrest by the time the paper goes to print, he gets in a few jabs. He’s all but accused me of police brutality, or condoning it in one of my men, but he always stops just short of setting himself up for a lawsuit. If we bring someone in for questioning and determine they had nothing to do with the crime, we’ve sullied the reputation of a fine citizen of this community.” He didn’t even try to hide his bitterness. “Not we—it’s the police chief ‘some members of the community now believe was mistakenly imported from New Jersey by the city council, who may be questioning their own decision with this latest outrage.’”
Nadia pulled out a chair and sat across her kitchen table from him. “That sounds like a quote.”
“It burned itself into my memory.”
“So I’m not the first person he’s insulted.”
“No, and you won’t be the last. Hey, didn’t you notice a jab or two aimed at me in that article?”
“You mean the part about you being flummoxed?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I shouldn’t let the jackass get to me.”
Her distress appeared to have eased. Because misery loves company?
“Police brutality?”
Figures she’d home in on that.
“On top of all his other sins, he’s a bigot. If someone with a smartphone catches one of my officers wrestling with a black or Latino suspect who has resisted arrest, you won’t see a mention in the Herald. Make it a seemingly upstanding white citizen—even if, really, he’s brewing meth in his spare bedroom or has raped a woman who didn’t think one date meant she’d agreed to have sex with him—and Rutledge jumps right on it.” He was getting pissed all over again, and probably grinding his molars to dust.
“Figures.” Nadia sniffed.
“We’ll make him grovel once we arrest the person who really stole the money.”
“That would be nice.” She went quiet for a moment. “But what are the odds after all this time?”
Not good, but Ben wasn’t going to admit as much.
“The whole thing’s a puzzler,” he did say. “Right now, I’m more worried about who ambushed you.”
“You don’t believe it’s the same person?”
“It’s not logical.” He probably sounded as frustrated as he felt. “He got away with the money. How can you be a threat to him?”
“Because I know something I don’t know I know.” She made an awful face. “That didn’t come out so well. But you know—”
Laughing despite the topic, he said, “I do know what you mean. And, yeah, I guess that’s possible.”
“What if he’s afraid I saw him?”
“If you had, why wouldn’t we long since have arrested him?” Ben countered.
Nadia lifted a shoulder to concede his point. “Well, what if someone wants to take over my store? Or just buy my building?”
&nb
sp; Why would somebody be desperate to take over the building? And if they did...it had been for sale not that long ago. So maybe owning it wasn’t what mattered—it was having free access. A chance to retrieve something left here? Or to search for something that had been hidden?
Terry Uhrich’s crew had done a pretty thorough search already, he reminded himself, albeit they hadn’t pried up floorboards or blasted holes in the walls.
Frowning, Ben said, “Far as I know, there’s never been so much as a rumor that Mrs. Jefferson might have stashed anything valuable here.”
“Who owned the building before her?”
“No idea. I do know she ran that fabric store for something like forty years.”
Troubled eyes met Ben’s. “But somebody murdered her. And now, somebody tried to kill me, too. What could we have in common?”
The fabric store. A love of quilts. And the building, which wasn’t anything special. The very similar one next door was vacant, available for sale or lease.
But he also could not believe Mrs. Jefferson’s death and the shooting weren’t connected somehow.
Right now, he just shook his head.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE let Ben win the argument, Nadia thought, unsettled to have a man lounging on her sofa as comfortably as if he lived here. The worst part was that his insistence on staying sharpened her fear. She couldn’t push it back, even for a few minutes at a time.
She worried about Lucy, too. How would she sleep tonight, with her brother not home? She had been so determined not to let Ben know that she was sleeping better than she had in years because he made her feel safe.
All of the above was true, but Nadia wasn’t into self-deceit. The real reason his presence disturbed her was because of the attraction between them. She had to make an effort not to stare. Okay, not to stare too obviously. It was really, really hard not to look.
He’d taken off his shoes earlier, removed his belt and slung it over a chair back and stripped off his uniform shirt to reveal a plain white T-shirt beneath. His holstered handgun he’d set on the end table within reach of the sofa he had taken over. After asking whether she minded, he stacked his feet on the coffee table and took possession of the remote control. To all appearances, he was absorbed in a baseball game while Nadia pretended to read. With the volume low, the commentators’ voices and occasional crack of a bat connecting with a ball were background noises she could ignore.
As she stole another look at him, he stretched, flexing all those muscles, and then clasped his hands behind his head. His intensity and restlessness, the way his dark eyes bored into hers, usually kept her from being able to absorb details, like the dusting of dark hair on his tanned forearms or the shape of his ears or the tendons in his strong neck. He had broad palms and long fingers, she had noticed, with a few hairs curling on the backs of those fingers. But given how heavy his beard growth was, she’d have expected his arms to be hairier. And she could make out the definition of powerful chest muscles, so surely if he’d had a lot of chest hair, she would have been able to see that, too. He had distinct stubble by evening; once, he’d run his hand over his jaw, and Nadia had heard the rasping sound. It would be scratchy, wouldn’t it, if he kissed her...
That was the moment when she realized he was watching her, too, his eyes even darker than usual.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me,” Ben said, voice husky. He lowered a hand to pat the cushion beside him. “We could cuddle.”
Nadia gave her head a panicky shake. She was too vulnerable right now. If he held her, if he kissed her, he’d end up in her bed. She was too uncertain about him to let that happen.
“Nadia. I won’t ask for more than you’re ready for.”
He’d read her mind. She cleared her throat to be sure she sounded at least seminormal. “I know.”
“Do I still scare you?”
Her “No-o” didn’t sound as decisive as she meant it to. His eyes narrowed.
“Is it because I lost it with a suspect? Are you going to make me sorry I told you?”
“No! It’s not that. I think...I trust you more because you did tell me. I’m not a very violent person, but after Lucy told me what she went through, I understand how you felt. You might be her little brother, but I’ll bet you always felt protective of her, didn’t you?”
He stayed quiet for a minute, scanning her face. Then, as if accepting that she intended to keep her distance, he clasped his hands behind his head again. “I guess I did. The age difference wasn’t much, and I was bigger and stronger than her by the time I was four or five.”
“I’ll bet that annoyed her.”
A smile tweaked his lips. “You’d win that bet. My size advantage kept her from getting too bossy.” Lines deepened on his forehead even as the smile disappeared. “She was confident in her own way, but uncomfortable with new people or in crowds. She didn’t know how to deal with it if a guy came on too strong.” Gaze intense, he said, “When she told me she wanted to come down here for a visit, I wondered—” His lips compressed.
“You wondered what?”
“She talked about the Amish. What a peaceful people they are. She sounded so...wistful.”
The way he said that, Nadia wondered if he’d ever used that word before.
“You know she’d be accepted among them only if her conversion was genuine, don’t you? That is what you’re worried about, right?”
“I guess so. Not that it would be so bad. It’s her motives I don’t like. Are the Amish in general more peaceful than the rest of us? Sure. Becoming Amish wouldn’t come with a guarantee, though. They struggle, like everyone else. And plenty of crimes are committed against them.” He lowered his hands and let his head fall back. “It’s probably all in my imagination anyway. Except for this quilting thing, I haven’t seen any sign—”
“She’s gone to lunch several times with Hannah and Jacob,” Nadia blurted.
He stared at her. “Jacob?”
“Hannah’s brother.” Oh, why had she opened her big mouth? She felt as if she’d betrayed Lucy. “He and their dad have the custom cabinet shop on my block.”
“I’ve seen him,” Ben said slowly, his eyebrows drawn together. “He has a beard. Doesn’t that mean he’s married?”
“Or was married. An Amish man doesn’t shave his beard off even if his wife dies. Jacob is a widower.”
He groaned. “Has Lucy said anything to you about it?”
“I’m not sure I’d tell you if she had, but...no. It just seemed friendly to me, except, well, I’ve never had lunch with him. Although,” she added in fairness, “that’s probably because Hannah is usually covering for me when I take a lunch break, and vice versa.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine. If Jacob is thinking of remarrying, he wouldn’t even look at a woman outside the faith.”
“But she might look at him.”
Nadia shook her head again, now that she’d had a minute to think about it. “I don’t believe it. She hasn’t been...secretive, or, I don’t know, blushing or too eager.”
“I hope you’re right.” Ben gazed at the television, but not as if he really saw it. “Let me use your bathroom, and then I think you should go to bed.”
The change of subject was so abrupt, she guessed he wanted to be alone.
“Okay.” He had the right idea. She could be tempted so easily. Besides, the idea of stretching out in bed brought on a wave of exhaustion.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face and braided her hair, then took a pillow and blanket from the linen closet for him.
When Ben saw the blanket in her arms, he said, “You do know it’s probably ninety degrees up here.”
“Well...just in case.” If he stripped down to shorts, he might feel cool before morning.
If she got up early
and came out here...
His hand grazed hers as he accepted the armful of bedding. Their eyes met, and she knew she was blushing. Was he remembering how little she wore to bed the night the money was stolen?
She rushed into speech. “I’ll turn on my air conditioner. If I leave the bedroom door open, it ought to help a little out here, too.”
“Thank you.” He dropped pillow and blanket on the sofa and rose to his feet. “Did you take another pain pill?”
“They’re in the kitchen. I will on the way to bed.”
“Sleep tight.” Ben’s voice was low and husky, as tangible as a touch. Except he touched her, too, running his knuckles softly over her cheek. “Nothing will get by me.”
“I know.” She tried to smile, felt her lips tremble. “I didn’t thank you for staying with me in the hospital.”
Both of them were talking quietly now, as if they were trying not to wake someone else, only that wasn’t it at all. It was more as if... She didn’t know, just that she wanted to step forward and wrap her arms around his waist, let herself lay her head on his shoulder. But if she did that, she would want more, and so would he, and she needed to trust him absolutely before she let that more happen.
Ben’s hand dropped to his side and she backed away, not wanting to tear her gaze from his. His tender expression warmed her deep inside. When she bumped into the other end table and had to grab the lamp to keep it from falling, Nadia knew her cheeks had heated again.
She turned and fled to the kitchen, and then to her bedroom.
However good it felt to lie down, she heard every quiet movement he made, even with the air conditioner rattling. Not until the last light went out did she close her eyes and relax toward sleep. She prayed Lucy wasn’t lying rigidly awake because Ben was here instead of in his own house.
Tonight, he was protecting her.
* * *
BEN KNEW THAT stopping by to have a few words with the two creeps who’d written those letters to the editor was not wise for a police chief who had enemies on the city council. His internal debate lasted a whole thirty seconds or so. He wouldn’t let his anger show, but they needed to know that vilifying an innocent woman wasn’t acceptable.
Her Amish Protectors Page 19