The Gems of Vice and Greed (Contemporary Gothic Romance Book 3)

by Colleen Gleason

  “Kristen rejected you?”

  “It wasn’t just a rejection,” Regina said, her voice tightening. “It was…it was horrible. She pulled away, and started calling me the most filthy, horrible, ugly names you can imagine. It was like she turned into a harpy, a monster. She was going to tell everyone. She would ruin me, tell everyone what a disgusting creature I was.” Her voice was thready with tears. “She turned and stormed out of the bedroom, and I—I went after her. I couldn’t let her tell them. I couldn’t let her leave me. I loved her, and I wanted her to understand that there was nothing wrong with that sort of love.”

  The room was ice cold now. The draperies were fluttering. Gilda was staring with wide eyes, spinning in a slow circle, still with her gun. “What is going on here?” she whispered. “Who’s there?”

  But Leslie paid her no attention, and neither did Regina, who clearly had to finish her story. “I caught her by the arm, but she pulled away and then started hitting me, calling me those terrible names again…all the while that song was playing in the background…‘Waiting for a Girl Like You’…and then I shoved her. Hard. I was so—so filled with anger and shame and revulsion—for myself, for what I felt. I lashed out. I pushed her. And she fell.”

  The air whipped up into a sudden, biting frenzy. It roared, the sound filling Leslie’s ears. Her hair was being buffeted about, and she felt the icy breeze scoring her face. Gilda was stumbling along the wall, trying to get away from the melee of wind, dust, and noise. She was making quiet, panting cries as she edged toward the front door.

  “Is that you, Kristen?” shouted Regina over the blast. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Is that you?”

  Then she stilled and looked up. Leslie didn’t have to turn to know what caught her attention, but she did anyway.

  It was Kristen, glowing more sharply and in more detail than ever before. Her eyes were angry pits of fire, and as she lifted her arm to point at Regina, the wind screamed through the room and the sounds of the old song filled the air. This time, it was so loud and violent that Leslie had to cover her ears and duck.

  But she could see Regina—who hadn’t moved. Who just stood there, staring up at the furious spirit. Tears poured down her cheeks as her hair whipped and danced in the midst of the storm. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I never…meant…to…hurt…you…”

  “The door’s locked!” screamed Gilda. “I can’t get out!” Leslie spared a glance at the terrified woman, but turned her attention back to the scene happening before her.

  Kristen spiraled up into a tall, glowing image of herself—slender and beautiful and furious. The now-familiar music was ear-splitting, dark and ugly and low.

  Then, as Leslie watched with terrified eyes of her own, the ghost roared down the stairs, bringing more icy, biting winds with her, shuffling the half-moored carpet, shaking the old sconces on the walls, the crystal of the unlit chandelier. Debris flew, the walls shook, and Gilda screamed as the glowing specter swept down into the room and shot right through Regina.

  The woman cried out, shuddered…and then suddenly, Regina softened. Collapsed. Slid slowly to the ground, landing in an unmoving heap there.

  And then…everything went utterly silent and still.

  “Reggie!” cried Gilda, moving from the safety of the door for the first time.

  Leslie noticed she’d dropped her gun, but it didn’t even matter—she knew she was safe.

  It was done.

  ~ TWENTY-THREE ~

  * * *

  By the time Declan arrived at Shenstone House—as Leslie knew he would—the police and EMTs had arrived. She’d used Regina’s cell phone to contact both, for Regina appeared to be dead, and of course Leslie’s own phone was at Gilda’s Goodies.

  Gilda herself was a wreck and hadn’t even realized she’d dropped her gun. She sat in a corner, her trendy red glasses long gone and her hair in a waxed-up mess, sobbing and shaking as if she’d seen a ghost.

  Which…

  Leslie signed. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get Officer Morton to actually believe her, so when she saw Declan rush into the foyer from the kitchen, panic on his face, the first thing she did was launch herself into his arms—rift or no rift.

  “Oh my God, Leslie, two nights in a row—you can’t keep doing this to me!” He was shaking as he crushed her against him—and he didn’t even know what happened. “I’ve been trying to call you, and text you, and—you absolutely can’t keep doing this or I’m going to have to break up with you. And I’ll take Rufus with me.”

  “Does that mean we aren’t broken up anymore?” she said with a small laugh. She kissed him. “Oh, Declan, I knew you’d come—and though I’m glad you were late, you really missed a hell of a show.” She glanced at Officer Morton, who was trying to get a coherent story from Gilda, who still sat, white-faced and trembling, in the corner.

  “So what happened?” Declan asked, looking at the disaster in the foyer. “Oh, hell, you can’t imagine what I thought—driving up the driveway to find police cars, EMTs, the house ablaze…I never want to go through those minutes again.” He shivered and hugged her tightly. “Good God—is that a body under the sheet there?”

  “Regina Underwhite is dead,” she told him. “They’re saying a heart attack, but…” She glanced up toward the top of the stairs, and Declan followed her gaze.

  “Do you mean she was killed by—” He stopped when she pressed a finger to his lips. But his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

  “Shhh. Let’s just go with heart attack, shall we?” Before Leslie could tell him more, Cherry and Orbra clattered in—bringing with them the expected exclamations, stunned shock, and remonstrations.

  “Let’s let the police do their job in here…I’ve already given them my statement, such as it is. I’ll tell you all what happened,” Leslie said. She was beginning to get a little tired of giving statements and telling stories…but hopefully this would be the last time. For a long time. “It’s quieter in my suite.”

  Once her friends were settled, Leslie gave them all the details of what happened. “And what Regina didn’t tell me, but I managed to get from Gilda before the police got here, was that after Kristen fell down the stairs, Regina panicked. She didn’t know what to do. So she called Aaron Underwhite—who’d been in love with her for years—and asked him to come and help her figure out what to do.

  “In exchange for that, she agreed to marry him and dote on him like a perfect and devoted wife for the rest of their lives. They’d build their own empire together, using his money and both of their brains and drive. If she didn’t hold up her end of the bargain, he’d show everyone what was hidden in the stairs here at Shenstone House. The velvet stole did have Regina’s blood on it—from a scratch when she and Kristen were struggling, and so they couldn’t leave it with the body. Making it look like a robbery was the perfect solution. Apparently, Aaron knew about her and Gilda—and as long as they were discreet and Regina remained his wife, he didn’t care.”

  “And Marcus Levin was involved how?” Cherry asked.

  “He saw Regina and Aaron when they were going back to Shenstone House after they left Kristen’s body in the woods. They made it look like they were just having a lovers’ tryst, so he wouldn’t have thought anything of it…unless people started looking at Kristen’s death in a different way and asking questions. Which is what I unintentionally did when I came here and started renovating the house.”

  “So Aaron is complicit too. Looks like we’ll be needing a new mayor. And who bashed in Marcus’s head?” Declan asked. He’d slid his arm around Leslie and hadn’t let her move more than an inch from his side since.

  “Gilda. She was trying to protect Regina, whom she loved very deeply.”

  “And who broke into the house here?”

  “That was Gilda too. While Regina and Aaron were presenting the Homecoming court, she sneaked out over here—knowing I wasn’t home and no one would suspect he
r. I’m not sure whether Kristen made an appearance or if Gilda just got spooked or what…but obviously she got what she came for: the velvet stole, one glove, and the topazes.”

  “What a story. And you’re saying that Kristen actually…killed her own murderer?” Orbra said. “That’s a great story.”

  “Well, I don’t know if she actually killed her, but when that energy—that spirit—rushed through her, it seemed like Regina’s heart just stopped. And that was it.”

  Just then, a tentative knock sounded at the edge of the door to the suite.

  “Come on it,” Leslie called.

  To her surprise, it was Stephanie Lillard whose face poked around the corner.

  “Steph?” Declan yanked away from Leslie and bolted to his feet. “Is everything all right?”

  His daughter was looking around with a curious expression. “Well, it is for me…but what’s going on here? I heard there were all these sirens here, and then Trib said you took off for Leslie’s—I mean, Ms. van Dorn’s house, and the sirens were here…and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  “It is now,” Leslie said. “But surely you didn’t walk here from town?”

  “No. This nice man gave me a ride— Don’t worry, Dad, geez. I’m not dumb. Trib knows him, and he just got back from the Amazon jungle. He even climbed a mountain in Tibet. He says he knows you too,” she added, looking at Cherry, whose cheeks were suddenly turning becomingly pink. “And that your niece lives here, and he thought maybe you might all need some help.”

  “I hope that’s all right,” said a deep voice as a tall, lanky figure stepped around into the doorway. He was wiry and tanned, with short-cropped white hair—and Leslie was pretty sure her aunt just about had an orgasm right there.

  “Well, if it isn’t William Reckless,” Cherry said, rising casually from her seat. Her voice was low and throaty, but Leslie could hear the depths of emotion in it. “It’s been a long time.”

  “It certainly has,” he said, his eyes never leaving her as she stood there staring at him.

  As if they were the only two in the room, perhaps even the world, Cherry moved toward him. He took her hand and, without a word, led her from the room.

  Everyone stared after them for a moment, partly in shock and partly in pure enjoyment. A moment later, they heard the sound of a car engine starting and a vehicle driving away.

  Stephanie was the one to break the ice. “Well. That was…interesting.”

  “It sure was. Anyway, everything is fine here, Steph. I guess I’d better get you home—since it appears your ride just left.” The regret in Declan’s voice was noticeable to Leslie, and she privately agreed with both the regret and the sentiment. They wouldn’t have any quality time alone until Morton and his team were gone, so he and Stephanie might as well leave.

  “Well, aren’t you coming?” Stephanie asked, pausing at the door. She was looking at Leslie.

  She shook her head regretfully. “I should probably stay here until they’re finished—in case they need anything. Your dad can fill you in on what happened.”

  “Well, all right, then. Maybe Dad can come back later…and check on you,” she said, looking back and forth between them.

  “Well, it’s almost nine o’clock—it’s getting pretty late,” he said, looking sadly at Leslie.

  “If you let me have a sleepover at Katie’s, then you can have a sleepover here,” Stephanie said cheekily.

  Declan’s face turned red. “I don’t think—”

  Leslie jumped in. “I think that’s a great idea—especially since my car, my purse, and my keys are still in town. Maybe you could come back later, Declan. And bring them to me.”

  He smiled, the color receding from his face. “Sounds good to me.” He turned to Steph. “Ready?”

  Once Stephanie and Declan were out of earshot, Orbra stood. “Well, I guess that leaves me and my old, dried-up parts to go home by myself and wait for my old man to get home. Should be sometime tonight. Maybe we’ll all get lucky before tomorrow.”

  ~ EPILOGUE ~

  * * *

  Leslie woke to the most delicious smell ever. Cinnamon, cardamom, honey…and man.

  She opened her eyes to find Declan sliding onto the bed next to her, holding a small tray with a cup of what could only be a chai latte. Also on the tray was a small bouquet of the last few mums that decorated her porch in pots, and a piece of thick toast with a pot of jam.

  “What a wonderful breakfast,” she murmured, sitting up back against her pillow. “And the serving boy as well,” she added, her eyes skimming over his bare muscular chest and ridged abs.

  “So now I’ve been demoted from scout to serving boy?” he asked, leaning forward to kiss her gently before releasing the cup of tea into her hands.

  “Apparently so. Maybe you better get back to work and try to get reinstated,” she joked. His eyes darkened with lustful speculation, and she laughed. “Maybe after breakfast, so I can get my energy back up. It’s been a rough few days.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” He was still looking at her with heat in his eyes, but he eased back and reached for his own drink, which he’d set on the table next to her.

  “So, I’ve been thinking about something John Fischer told me—about the fake windows they often put on the houses that were really there to hide liquor cabinets during Prohibition.”

  “Right,” Declan said.

  “You know I never use the front door of the house, but last night when I brought Regina and Gilda in here, I took them through the front door. They didn’t know any better, of course, but I knew that was where Kristen might be…and I was definitely hoping for her help in resolving this haunted status. Anyway, since I never come in that way at night, I never noticed before how one of the windows isn’t lit up when the lights are on. Strange things you notice sometimes, you know, even in the midst of all that stress? But even though things were tense, I was starting to relax. Because I was pretty certain Kristen would be more than happy to make an appearance. So anyway, I noticed that one of the windows was dark…and it shouldn’t have been.”

  Declan straightened. “Do you mean you think there might be a secret liquor cabinet in the foyer?”

  “Yes. See, they would put two windows next to each other—on the outside, anyway. But inside, there’d be only one actual window. The other window would be the backside of the liquor cabinet. There was probably a light that was on inside the cupboard, so from the outside it looked like both windows were lit up…but inside, there’s only one. No one would really notice that, especially if it were two windows together—inside you probably wouldn’t notice if it was more narrow than what you saw from the outside.”

  “Holy crap,” he whispered. “Do you think Sal’s gems might be hidden there?”

  They looked at each other, and she felt a sparkle of excitement.

  “Let’s take a look,” he said.

  She bounded out of bed—which was almost a mistake, because she was buck naked and he definitely noticed. But Leslie neatly evaded his grabby hands and slipped into her robe. “I’m on the trail of some missing gems, scout. We’ll celebrate if I’m right,” she promised, dancing away from him with a sassy grin.

  “And if you’re not?”

  “We’ll celebrate me being wrong.”

  “Let’s go,” he said, leading the way to the foyer.

  First they went outside so she could show him the window she meant. He had to drag on his jeans, but she wouldn’t let him take the time to put on a shirt. “It’s not that cold out. Besides, I like looking at all those blacksmithy muscles.”

  He complied, his unshaven face slightly pink with pleasure. “If you insist.” They stood on the porch.

  “This is the window. See how it looks like there are two next to each other? But only one is lit up.”

  “I think you might have something there, general.”

  Excitement coursed through her as they started back inside to examine the interior wall. “Let m
e get some tools from my truck,” he said as she went back in.

  “Hurry! I’m dying here!” she said, fairly dancing around the foyer in front of the wall in question. “Look—you can see the seam in the paneling if you look carefully enough.”

  “Patience, woman,” he growled, but he went immediately to the wall and began to examine it. Then he laughed. “The molding around the real window. Look.” He shifted the old, carved piece of wood that framed the window and a door slid open—easy as pie.

  “Oh my God,” Leslie squealed, not caring that she sounded like a girl. A girl could get very excited over secret panels and hidden stairways…and maybe even jewels. “Is anything in there?” she demanded.

  But he’d stepped back, smiling at her with affection. “It’s your house, Leslie. You look.”

  The space was small—just big enough for four bottles of liquor to stand in a tight square. There was one bottle still in there…and something else. Leslie’s heart leaped when she saw the lump in the back of the space, and she locked eyes with Declan as she reached in—only belatedly realizing it could be a dead rodent.

  But it wasn’t. It was a velvet pouch, and it had a mass of hard objects in it; she could tell that as soon as she touched it. Her hands shook.

  “Oh my God, Declan,” she breathed as she pulled it out. It clinked softly.

  “Careful there, sweetheart,” he said, practically breathing down her neck.

  With trembling fingers, she pulled the pouch’s cord loose and tipped it so the contents spilled out onto his cupped hands.

  Sparkles: rubies, garnets, sapphires, emeralds…a cascade of jewels, still in their elaborate settings, tumbled into his hands in a rainbow pool.

  “Oh…my…” she breathed, hardly able to believe her eyes. “Oh…wow… They’re beautiful.”

  “Whoa,” he said, looking down at the treasure he held. He shifted his fingers so the gems moved and sparkled. Then he took the pouch from her and slid the jewelry back inside.