“I’m pretty sure you’ve offended someone,” Leslie said, choking on a laugh. Her thighs were stinging from Rufus’s hasty exit.
“All right, all right—they’re not tantrums,” Cherry said, raising her voice to the level of the supernatural. “I didn’t mean it was a tantrum. Kristen has the perfect right to have her killer brought to justice. And I want to do whatever I can to help.”
Leslie held her breath as the lights flickered, then slowly came back on. The room went back to a normal temperature just as quickly. “Now you’re just showing off, aren’t you, Kristen?” she said on a relieved chuckle.
Orbra laughed nervously when the lights flickered again, but this time they stayed on.
Leslie looked around at everyone. “Now…I think it’s time for me to get some rest. Anyone who wants to stay is welcome—but I’m going to bed.”
She got up, surprised at how wobbly she felt, and went into her bedroom. With a last glance at Declan, who was studiously not looking at her, she closed the door and sought her bed.
________
Declan opened his eyes to something that smelled heavenly.
Not as heavenly as Leslie’s hair, but delicious enough that he was wide awake in an instant.
Coffee. And something cooking…bacon, maybe. Whatever it was, he had to investigate.
He slid off the sectional in Leslie’s living room/office, where he’d remained even after Cherry and Orbra left for the night, and padded out to the kitchen in his bare feet.
“You must be feeling much better,” he said, taking in the sight of her in those very flattering yoga pants and a hot-pink t-shirt. She’d clipped up her inky hair into some sort of twist, and one thick lock fell in an S-curve down the back of her neck. His mouth watered at the sight of that slender, elegant neck. It sure had tasted sweet and warm, and smelled oh so good when he’d kissed her there the other day…
Damn. Regret pinged in him, then simply ebbed away. Maybe things didn’t have to be so…black and white.
“I am feeling better,” Leslie said from the stove. “Thank you so much for staying last night—I’m sure it wasn’t convenient for you having to figure out what to do with Stephanie, but I really appreciate it. Are you hungry?”
He cautiously took a seat at the table, aware of the achingly formal tone of her voice and the nonchalant words—while he, on the other hand, was thinking about anything but formalities and the distance such implied. “Yes, thank you, I’m starving. Whatever it is, it smells good. Uh—can I do anything to help?” He made to push his chair back from the table to do so, but she was already walking toward him with a plate.
“No, it’s all done. Thanks, though. How do you want your coffee?”
“Black is fine. Thanks.”
Hoo boy. Could their conversation be any more stilted? How did he even begin to talk to her?
He’d thought he couldn’t handle being with a woman who’d made the sort of decision she’d done, but here he was—and there he’d been last night, about to go to pieces at the thought of something happening to Leslie.
He definitely didn’t want anything to happen to her…and, black or white or gray, that was the simple truth.
“I have something to show you,” she said as she took her seat at the table with him. Her plate was laden with the same food—albeit a smaller portion—as his: eggs scrambled with green onions, bacon, tomatoes, and feta cheese. And…were those avocado chunks in there too?
Damn, she was a great cook. How had someone like her—who’d worked seventy hours a week—learned to cook like this?
Will you marry me? The memory came back to him in a nostalgic flash from the last meal they’d had at this table.
He wasn’t quite ready to mean those words…but he was a damn sight closer than he’d ever been. Even with this rift between them.
Which he really had to address. But first… “What do you have to show me?” he asked, then took the first bite. It was even better than he’d imagined—she must have put something spicy in it, because it had a little bit of a kick. The bacon was super crunchy—and there was a lot of it.
“This.” Leslie put a small yellow stone on the table.
Declan looked at it for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Is that a topaz? Where did you find it?”
“Inside the side of the stair railing—where I found the velvet stole. I’d seen something glinting way down inside there, and I was trying to get it up a few days ago—remember, you were going to help me?—but then I got distracted, and I forgot about it. Until last night. I woke up at five—you were snoring on the sofa with Rufus,” she said with a bashful smile, “and I was thinking about everything—about Kristen and Marcus Levin and the prom night and the topazes, and I remembered that glinting thing. I was wide awake, so I just got up and worked on it for about an hour till I got the damned thing out from down in there. Rufus was not amused, by the way. He sat there and yowled at me the whole time.”
“So it’s just one topaz, but you think it might be from Kristen’s necklace? From Red Eye Sal’s gems?”
“Here’s my theory,” Leslie said, and her eyes began to sparkle so brilliantly his heart squeezed. “Somehow, she ended up here after prom that night. Someone else was here too. She died—maybe it was murder, maybe it was an accident, I don’t know—but whoever was with her—and I’m guessing it was a schoolmate, because that makes the most sense to me—panicked and decided to make it look like a robbery. So he put the body in the woods without the necklace and stole and gloves, and hid them here in the house so everyone would think that’s what happened.”
“I like it,” Declan said with a smile. “Both the breakfast and your theory.”
She smiled back and his heart warmed even more. Gray area. Got to find the gray area.
“And so everything was fine until I came along and began renovating the house. And even that probably wouldn’t have worried the killer, except that I was restoring the stair rail. Which meant the hiding place would likely be exposed. Remember that photo of me in the paper? You can see that the stairway has been partially dismantled.”
“So anyone could have seen that picture and realized his secret was about to come to light.”
“Exactly. And if people started asking questions about what happened that night—if it became obvious that someone local was involved, probably one of her schoolmates—then everything could come to light and the murderer could be exposed.”
“And that’s why he—or she, I suppose—let’s be fair,” he said with a gesture of his fork, “broke into the house. Did anyone know that you’d found the velvet stole before the break-in?”
“I’m not sure whether I’d mentioned it to Cherry or Orbra—and if I had, then anyone could have known. You know how they are. But it probably didn’t matter because maybe he—or she—broke in so they could remove the incriminating evidence from the stair rail base and beneath the step before it was found. But it had already been found—I’d left it sitting on the table in the foyer—and so they considered themselves very lucky to be able to steal it. And I suspect the rest of the topazes were down inside the stair rail base. I just didn’t see them before—there was a lot of debris and insulation in there. And one gem, unfortunately, fell out of its setting and was left in there as a final clue.”
“Wow. You’re a regular Nancy Drew. But the big question is…who’s the culprit? And did Marcus Levin’s death have anything to do with it? I’m thinking yes. What Orbra said last night makes sense: if Levin knew something about the murder, for whatever reason—maybe he saw someone leaving Shenstone House that night—someone who shouldn’t have been there. He might have thought nothing of it at the time, but now…if all the questions start being asked…”
“Exactly. So that means…probably…that whoever murdered Marcus Levin also killed Kristen van Gerste thirty years ago.”
“And whoever they are…they’re still running around here in town.”
Leslie nodded, her face sober.
“The good news is…whoever it is doesn’t have any reason to break into Shenstone House anymore—or any reason to bother me. I mean, I wasn’t around thirty years ago—”
“That’s bullshit.”
“What? That I wasn’t around thirty years ago—”
“I know what you’re trying to say—that you don’t have any reason to be nervous or to take precautions—and you might be right. But maybe you don’t want to stay here for a while. Until everything gets taken care of and Levin’s murderer is caught.”
Leslie’s mouth flattened. “If this is your way of making up with me by insisting I come and stay at your house, you’ve—”
“Whoa.” He held up two hands. “Just, whoa.”
She stopped all right, but the glare she gave him was sharp enough to cut glass.
“Okay, look…aside from the fact that we have to talk, and that I really damn well missed you last night, what I said was true: I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here—by yourself—until things get taken care of. And to be honest, much as I might like to, I wouldn’t ask you to stay with me because of Stephanie. So, no, there was no ulterior motive in my suggestion. Only concern. Even fear. Jesus, Leslie…I don’t want anything to happen to you. And last night when I saw you lying here on this very table, well…my heart pretty much stopped.”
“I’m pretty sure anyone’s heart would stop if they thought someone they knew was dead,” she said, but her lips twitched in a wry smile. “All right, I’ll talk to Cherry and Officer Morton and see what they think. I’m not about to take any unnecessary risks—I’d like to live to see my next birthday. And now that he’s infiltrated my life, I’m guessing Rufus feels the same way.”
“That makes three of us, then.” He drew in a deep breath. “I should probably explain my…reaction the other day. When you told me about Gideon and Gwendolyn.”
Her eyes suddenly turned misty. “Gwendolyn?”
His heart nearly stopped. Had he screwed that up too? “I thought you said her name was Gwendolyn…I’m sorry if—”
“No, no, don’t apologize.”
Geez—he looked closely at her. Was she really tearing up there? Her voice was all rusty and she was blinking. The tip of her nose was even turning pink.
“You’re right—her name was Gwendolyn. It’s just that…no one ever refers to her by her name. Usually as ‘the baby’ or ‘your baby.’ You…startled me, is all. In a good way.” Her voice was soft and low. “Thank you.”
“Well, okay.” He was a little confused, but he guessed he’d done something very right. Instead of resting on those laurels, though, he continued on to the more difficult portion of the conversation. “I’m not sure if Stephanie—or anyone—has told you anything about why I’m here in Sematauk with my daughter, and her mother is in New Hampshire.”
“Not really. From what I understand, you didn’t really get to know Stephanie until recently.” To her credit, there wasn’t a trace of judgment in her voice.
“That’s true. But what no one knows—except for Stephanie, me, her mother Cara, and Cara’s husband—is that I didn’t even know I had a daughter until this past year. Just about nine months or so ago.”
Leslie’s eyes went wide with shock, then immediately softened with comprehension. “Oh my God, no wonder you…had such a strong reaction to my—my decision.”
“Well, yeah. The baggage certainly helps when it comes to forming one’s opinions.” Declan gave her a wry smile, then went on and explained how his life had been turned upside down—but in the end, in a good way—by Cara’s phone call.
“I can only imagine the hurt and anger and shock you must have felt when you found out,” she said. Her eyes were filled with pain and sorrow—he wasn’t sure why; was it just for him?—and she settled back in her seat, putting a little distance between them. “Partly because I spent quite a lot of time thinking about what that would be like for—for Gideon, you know, if he ever found out.”
“Cara kept the secret for sixteen years,” Declan said. “I had no clue it was even a possibility that I had a daughter out there. So, yes, it pushed a very sensitive button for me, and I’m not going to lie—it’s definitely a bump in the road of…this. Us. But,” he said with a forceful exhale of breath, “I don’t want it to be a dead end, Leslie.” He spread his hands. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I really…I really feel a lot for you. A deep connection that I haven’t felt with anyone else…ever. But…it’s hard for me to ignore the fact that you made the decision to lie about something like that—something so personal to me.”
Tears glistened in her eyes and she leaned forward again. “I understand, Declan. I really do. I am not proud of that decision at all. It’s not something I would expect you to forgive and forget, especially since it’s something so close to your heart.”
They looked at each other from across the table, sorrow and confusion mingling with hope and affection.
“I’d like to say a few more things about what happened with Gideon. Not to excuse myself, but to give you more information.”
“Go on.” He was more than ready to let her talk. Truth be told, he was hoping she’d say something that would…well, help him accept and forgive. Even though the lie hadn’t been told to him, even though he hadn’t been in her life during that time, Declan couldn’t help but feel as if it were a personal betrayal—not only to him, but to any man who found himself in the same situation as he and Gideon Nath had.
Huh. Who’d have thought he and the knobhead lawyer would’ve had so much in common?
“I didn’t plan to lie. I—we—were at a big fundraiser function together, Gideon and I. And Fiona was there too. I came upon the two of them together, and I overheard their conversation. Gideon was just madly in love with her, but he was doing what he believed was the right thing—in his old-school, conservative, Main Line Philadelphia way, he didn’t believe he had any other choice but to marry me. I could see how miserable he was, how awful she felt. I could feel the tension and the love between them.
“It was terrible to witness this—not only because it was such an intimate moment, but because they were both so much in love. I just couldn’t do it. So when I confronted Gideon right afterward—”
Declan couldn’t help but wince. “Ouch. Poor guy—being caught by his fiancée telling another woman he loved her.”
Leslie’s lips wavered and almost slid into a smile, but she continued. “When I confronted him, I told him I wasn’t going to marry him, I didn’t love him and he sure as hell didn’t love me…and then the words just tumbled out. ‘And the baby isn’t even yours.’ Just like that.”
She bit her lip, curling her fingers around the bowl-sized coffee cup in front of her. “If you could have seen the unadulterated joy and relief in his face…well, it was impossible for me to take the words back at that point. And so I embellished a little to make certain he believed me…and that was that. I sent him off after Fiona—and by the way, he ended up saving her life that night too.”
Declan’s brows raised at that last bit, but he’d get that story later. “So it was sort of like second-degree lying instead of first-degree lying,” he said slowly. There might be a light at the end of this tunnel yet…
“Maybe even self-defense?” she said. “For him, I mean. That doesn’t really make sense, but—”
He was laughing. Despite everything, he couldn’t hold back a little chuckle. “All right, counselor. Maybe. I guess I can see how you might have acted under duress. That does make it easier for me to understand.”
“I’m not telling you this to excuse my actions, really, Declan. I just was hoping to help you understand that I wasn’t really…in my right mind. And I did regret it…and to be honest, I did think I would probably tell him the truth. Someday. After he and Fiona were safely married and he couldn’t get too mad at me—or, at least, make me marry him.” Her grin was crooked and her eyes were sad. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I did completely mislead him.”
“Thank you for coming over last night, and for helping me,” she said, and abruptly rose. She was blinking, and he thought she might have been tearing up a little. “Oh, by the way,” she said, with her back to him as she began to clean up some of the mess in the kitchen. “I might actually have learned something from John Fischer last night.”
“What’s that?”
“He was telling me that a lot of times, the bootleggers—or even normal people who wanted to keep whiskey or beer or wine during Prohibition—would build special hidden cabinets. Lots of times, it would be behind a false window.”
“Interesting.” He glanced automatically toward the windows in the kitchen. “So he thought he could find the gems.”
“He was very certain they were in the house. He told me all about the research he’d done—I had no idea at that point he was a professional treasure seeker. But he was obviously certain enough of what he’d find to risk breaking the law.”
Declan shook his head, then all at once he noticed the time on the clock. “Holy shit.” He erupted from the table and banged his knee. “I have to pick up Stephanie…like, right now.”
Leslie looked at him with faint amusement. “All right, then—off you go. I hope…I hope I’ll see you again soon, Declan. And not just when you’ve got to take a measurement, or fit an iron rod into pl—” She stopped short, her eyes wide with mirth as he let out a short guffaw.
At that moment, he would have been very happy to be fitting a rod—of iron or otherwise—into place. His laugh faded into a mere smile and he came up to her at the sink and slid an arm around her waist. “I’d stay to help you clean up, but I’m already late. But…what do you think about dinner tonight? Just you and me—at Trib’s, if you don’t mind eating there again. We can…talk. If you still want to…talk…to me. I have been maybe a little bit of an ass.”
“I’d love that, Declan.” There was relief and pure pleasure in her voice. “I really would. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. Does that work?”
The Gems of Vice and Greed (Contemporary Gothic Romance Book 3) Page 25