“You know, that’s one of your major character flaws. You’re always so disgustingly chipper in the morning.” Madison grabbed the coffee mug and took a large gulp of the steaming liquid, welcoming the burn that slid down her throat.
George Gail put a chubby hand to her mouth and spoke aside to Genny in a poorly disguised whisper. “She’s just as grumpy at night. I thought I was doing a good thing, calling her this morning.”
“You two go ahead,” Madison mumbled. “Have your fun at my expense. I’m the one who’s sleep deprived.”
Genesis merely laughed. “Give the caffeine time to kick in,” she advised George Gail. “She’ll be almost human by the second cup.”
Madison wrinkled her nose at her friend’s departing back, resisting the childish urge to stick her tongue out. Pulling her bleary gaze back to her client, she said, “Tell me again, why did you drag me here?”
“We have to come up with my statement, the one I’ll give to the police. Did you bring paper? Write that down about cutting my finger. I liked that.”
Madison ignored the directive. “What exactly did Brash say when he asked to drop by?”
“Just that he wanted to come by and talk to us this afternoon.”
“And you think that means he’s coming to arrest you?”
“I can’t imagine why else he would come over.”
“If he was coming to arrest you, I doubt he would call and make an appointment first. They tend to spring that sort of thing on you, trying to catch you unaware.”
“Maybe.” She sounded doubtful as she plucked another sticky bun apart. She was stuffing it into her mouth when she suddenly froze. Her eyes widened and she practically choked on the mouthful of glazed yeasty bread.
“George Gail? Are you all right? What’s wrong?” Madison asked in alarm.
Her companion clamped one hand over the mouth, while with the other she pointed a chubby finger toward the door. “Him,” she squeaked.
Madison followed her gaze. She heard the excited buzz of other patrons as John-Paul Noble stepped inside the restaurant.
In spite of herself, her own heart rate sped up at the sight of the famous actor. Exactly as Derron Mullins claimed, the man was a prime specimen of manhood. Just over six feet, he stood tall and straight, a fascinating blend of toned muscle and good bone structure. Even if his hair was a bit too black to be natural and his tan a little too dark to be authentic, he wore the look with finesse. Who cared about the fine details? The man was beautiful. Bright blue eyes and a row of white, even teeth set off his tan to perfection. He wore a tailored suit of pale gray and a blue tie that highlighted his eyes. A cream-colored cashmere coat was thrown casually over his shoulders.
Madison tried not to drool.
“That is most definitely not the trench coat I saw,” she muttered to herself. Even though he wore a fedora atop his head, there was no mistaking John-Paul Noble’s powerful physique with the squatty image she had seen through the window. She could not resist a star-struck, “Mmm-mmm,” before turning back around in her seat.
“What a dream boat.” George Gail propped her elbows on the table, her chin into her hands, and stared unabashedly as the actor made his way into the restaurant. Her eyes traced his every move as he gave the staff a charming smile and ordered coffee. All three waitresses rushed to his side, until Genesis pulled them away with a soft reprimand to allow the man some space.
“It’s just not fair,” George Gail pouted. “Why did Caress have to be so greedy? Wasn’t it enough that she had John-Paul? Why did she have to go after my husband, too?”
“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him? Isn’t that him coming inside right now?”
George Gail was obviously flustered. “What on earth is he doing here? He said he’d fix his own breakfast this morning! And how on earth am I going to explain sitting here with you? I told him I had a hair appointment.”
“At six-thirty in the morning?”
“He’s a man,” George Gail said with a shrug. “His eyes glaze over when I mention anything that has to do with beauty products. He has no idea what they even do in a salon, much less what time they open!”
After stealing another wistful look at John-Paul, Madison turned her attention to Curtis Burton. She knew the exact moment he spotted his wife. A look of genuine pleasure stole over his face, and a smile lifted the corners of his handlebar mustache.
His long stride made short work of crossing to the back booth. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I get to have breakfast with my beautiful bride, after all.” He swooped down to kiss his wife on the mouth. “Mmm,” he purred in appreciation. “Sticky buns.” He kissed her again, licking her lips in the process.
Giggling like a schoolgirl, George Gail scooted over and made room for her husband. As he tucked his arm around her round shoulders and dipped his head for another kiss, she swatted him away and pointed to Madison. “I have company.”
“Well, so you do.” The rugged rancher offered Madison a lazy smile. “No offense, but even after thirty-nine blessed years of marriage, when George Gail is in the room, she’s the only woman I can see.”
It took Madison all of five minutes to know what Granny Bert had claimed all along: Curtis Burton was not having an affair with Caress Ellingsworth. The man was clearly smitten with his wife. He hung on her every word. When he looked at her—which was practically the entire time he sat there—his eyes had a gentle glow that could only come from his soul. He touched her constantly. Before his breakfast came, he entwined his fingers with hers. While he ate, he sat close enough that their thighs touched. As they lingered over a last cup of coffee and the couple shared another sticky bun, he kept his arm loosely around her shoulders. His devotion to his wife was so touching and so sincere that Madison found herself growing misty-eyed. That was the sort of marriage she wanted. That was the kind of love and devotion missing from her own union with Gray.
“It was nice to finally meet you, Curtis, but I really must be going,” Madison said. She was surprised to see almost an hour had slipped by. Curtis Burton was a good conversationalist and she had actually enjoyed visiting with the couple, even George Gail. With her husband around, the woman did not act nearly as ditzy.
“Come by the house any time,” he invited, standing up as she slid from the booth. He tipped the brim of his cowboy hat in gentlemanly style. “Any friend of George Gail’s is a friend of mine. And of course I practically grew up as a Cessna. Tell Granny Bert I said hello.”
“I will. And George Gail?” Madison paused to send the woman a pointed look. “That little problem we discussed? The first one? Believe me, you had to have been mistaken.”
On her way toward the door, Madison allowed herself one last lingering perusal of the handsome John-Paul Noble.
Mmm, mmm, indeed.
***
Caress’s funeral was set for Thursday morning.
Darla brought a black wreath to hang on the door of Boundaries. Since Caress was family, she said, it was only proper to close during the services. Although she and Derron would take the whole of Thursday off, she expected Madison to open the office in the afternoon.
Alone in the big old building, Madison found it to be more than a bit spooky. Howling ‘ghosts’ aside, the place was dark and depressing. She spent the afternoon at Derron’s desk, thankful not to be stuck in her own office in the back.
The afternoon was long and boring. The phone rang exactly twice, and one of those calls was a telemarketer. Just to hear another voice, Madison let the man go through his entire spiel and even pretended interest, right up until the part when he asked for her credit card.
At five minutes before five, Madison began turning off lights and computers. She made sure the break room was tidy, the furthest she had ventured into the dark hallway today. She had even avoided going to the restroom to save herself the long walk among the ghosts.
As she was about to leave, the telephone rang. Without caller ID, she had to rely on her sixth sense to
predict it was Darla calling.
“Boundaries Surveying,” she said cheerfully into the receiver, deciding to end the day with a little fun. “And no, Darla, I did not leave early.”
She heard the disdainful sniff on the other end of the line. “What if I had been a customer and you answered in such an undignified way?”
“But you’re not.”
“You did not know that.”
“Sure I did. That’s why I answered that way.”
Another sniff. “Enough foolishness. I need you to retrieve a file for me.”
“Right now?” Madison’s playfulness turned to dismay. All the file cabinets were in the back, in either Natalie’s office or the dreaded file room.
“Yes, right now. You’re still on the clock.”
“For another thirty seconds or so. Can’t this wait until morning?”
“No. I need you to review the file before we leave in the morning.”
“You’ll be out of the office tomorrow?” Try though she may, she could not hide the hopefulness in her voice.
“We will be out of the office,” her sour employer corrected. “Dress appropriately for the outdoors.”
“Oh.”
“I need you to pull the survey on Allen Wynn. He and Hank Adams are in an ongoing boundary dispute and we will be re-surveying the properties. You may leave the file on your desk and I will stop by and pick it up this evening when I leave. We’re still at Caress’s house.”
“How-How was the funeral?” Madison tried to inject concern into her voice. In spite of the fact that she disliked Darla Mullins, she felt compassion for the other woman’s loss.
“Very nice and very sad. Thank you for asking.” Her tone remained brisk and businesslike, but Madison detected a slight crack in the clipped words.
“Again, I’m very sorry for your loss,” Madison murmured. She offered a small olive branch. “I’ll leave the file on the table so you’ll easily see it.”
“Very well. I’ll see you at eight.”
With a reluctant sigh, Madison locked the front door, stuffed her keyring into her pants pocket, and decided to exit out the back, after retrieving the file. No need in walking that hall twice. Flipping on the light to the hallway, she hurried down the dismal path to the back office and made quick work of finding the file. The ghosts cheered her on, wailing and moaning as she pushed the drawer closed with her hip and dropped the folder onto the table behind her.
A draft sneaked its way around the windowsills, howling a lonesome tune. An unusually strong draft of air slammed the door of her office shut, causing her to jump.
Chiding herself for being so jumpy, Madison went to the door and tugged on it, only to find it stuck. She tried to twist the knob, but it refused to turn. She shoved her shoulder against the solid panels of the door, complaining about the old building and jambs that swelled.
After several failed attempts at getting the door to budge, she realized she would have to call for help. She could just imagine Darla’s reaction when she disturbed her. Maybe, she decided, she should call Derron first.
But what was his phone number? Come to think of it, she didn’t even know how to reach Darla outside the office. A quick punch of *69 was of no help; apparently that feature was unavailable on the phones, as well.
She could always call Genny. With a sigh, Madison punched the familiar number into the office phone and was greeted by silence. That’s odd, she thought, staring down at the receiver with a frown.
She belatedly realized there was no dial tone. She jabbed the hook up and down several times, trying to get a connection. Still nothing.
As Madison fished her cell phone from her purse, she thought she heard a noise in the hall. Had someone come in through the back? Maybe Derron opened the door and created a cross draft that sucked her office door shut.
“Derron? Is that you?” she called against the closed door. She jiggled the handle one more time. “Derron? … Darla? … Anyone?” She kept trying the handle, even as she dialed her cell phone with the other hand.
Distracted by her efforts to open the door and the noisy wail of the wind, it took a few moments for her to realize her call had not gone through.
“Hello?” Madison spoke into the cell phone, hearing her own voice echoing back into her ear. “Genny? Are you there?” Still her own voice.
This is really strange, she thought with a frown. She punched ‘end’ and tried again, with the same results. Beginning to get uneasy, she dialed her home number. The same empty echo greeted her.
“Okay, calm down,” she said aloud to herself. “There’s nothing to be alarmed about, just a lost signal. It will be back in a minute or so.”
She waited a good five seconds before trying again.
Another bump from the hallway had her heart lodged in her throat. “D-Derron?” she called again, her voice not quite as strong as before.
Without warning, the lights went out; not only in the office, but in the entire building, plunging Madison into darkness. She found her voice, strong and loud, as she called out for help.
“Derron! Darla! I’m in here! The door’s stuck! Open up!” She rattled the door on its hinges, but there was only silence on the other side.
Instinctively, Madison pulled away from the door. Something was not right. The phones were not working and the lights were out. A power failure? That hardly explained the noise in the hall.
She heard it again. To her overactive imagination, it sounded like feet shuffling. She tried her cell phone again, then one more time. The light from her screen lit up the room, enough to see the outline of the door. Had the handle just turned?
By now Madison was more than uneasy; she was flat-out frightened. Keeping her eye on the door handle, she inched her way backwards, her hand groping for the chair she knew was there. Without making a sound, she eased the heavy piece toward the door and wedged it beneath the doorknob. Between the wailing of the ghosts and the heavy thud of her heart, she could no longer hear the noise from the hall, but this time she was certain she saw the handle twist.
She tried the phone one last time, dialing 9-1-1. Not even the emergency number worked. Fear flooded through her body as she realized her cell signal had more than likely been jammed.
There was only one person who would have reason to trap her in the empty office, cut the power and the phone lines, and jam her cell signal: Trench Coat!
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Madison searched the darkness for some way to defend herself. She did a mental survey of the room, reluctant to use the light from her phone in the irrational fear of being seen; the door and walls were solid, but Trench Coat was on the other side. She wasn’t taking any chances.
She knew the only windows in the room were high above the over-sized filing cabinets. As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she could detect the faint glow of waning daylight beyond their dusty panes. Another half hour or less, and the sky outside would be dark.
Did the windows even open? For all she knew, they were painted shut. Even if she could reach them and they functioned correctly, could she shimmy her way through their narrow openings?
The doorknob moved again, this time with a distinct rattle. Trench Coat made no secret of trying to get in.
Spurred into motion, Madison pulled open the bottom file drawer of the middle cabinet. Normally, she used the ingenious ladder chair to reach the top drawers of the custom-made file cabinets, but the chair was providing a far more valuable service at the moment by keeping Trench Coat at bay. Testing the sturdiness of the metal slides that held the drawer in place, she gingerly stepped onto the thin rails, balancing her weight on either side. When she did not crash to the floor, she took it as encouragement to try the next drawer.
On the third drawer, her foot slipped. She felt the files crush beneath her shoe and give way, allowing her foot to sink to the bottom of the drawer with a slight twist of her ankle. Trying to steady herself, she grabbed for the only thing in her reach. As her hands curl
ed around the edge of the top drawer, she inadvertently tugged too hard. The drawer slid out almost to its full extension, pushing her out with it. As she dangled in the air, feet flailing and grappling for traction, she heard the door jostle behind her.
In retrospect, Madison realized it would have been easier to drop to the floor; her feet were within twenty inches of the ground. But she was operating on fear, and fear seldom factored in rational thought. So instead of dropping to the floor and starting the climb over, Madison shoved her body forward, trying to urge the drawer in. She misjudged the momentum needed and used too much force with her body-slam. The drawer smacked forward, catching her fingers in the process.
Crying out in anguish, Madison managed to hold on through the pain, long enough to disengage one hand at a time. She hauled herself up and managed to get first one arm onto the top of the cabinet, then the other. Her fingers screamed in pain, her elbows scraped against the cold metal, and her shoulders protested the hanging weight of her body. Still, she clung to the side of the cabinet with determination. She lost a shoe in her attempt to scale the side of the cabinet and find a foothold among the drawer pulls, but Madison finally managed to crawl her way to the top of the monstrous cabinets.
She rested for a moment, panting from her efforts as she lay on her back. So this is where the ghosts hang out. Wisps of cold air howled in around the windows, finding the tiniest of cracks to whistle their way through. Another five minutes and I’ll be good to go.
Above the ghostly wail of the wind, she heard the door rattle again within seconds. It was the only motivation she needed to get moving.
The windows were not painted shut, but they might as well have been. Years of dust and rust and grime made the hinges stiff and stubborn.
The old casement windows hinged on the bottom and opened from the top. Even though she could reach the hasps, she did not have enough leverage to force them free. When Trench Coat banged against the door, Madison jerked files from the drawers to form a haphazard step. The extra inches were all she needed to work the ancient fasteners open.
When the Stars Fall (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 2) Page 17