Christmas Spirit

by Rebecca York

  As they sat in the waiting area, Michael leaned toward Chelsea. “The fewer people who know what really happened, the better.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “That we were out for a walk, and you slipped and hurt your hand.”

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes later, the receptionist called Chelsea’s name. When she stood, Michael also got up and walked back with her.

  The doctor looked surprised to see him, but he didn’t make any comment as he gestured for Chelsea to sit down on the examination table. “What happened?”

  “We were out for a walk, and I slipped.”

  Janecek inspected the hand. “This didn’t just happen. It’s starting to get infected.”

  “It was this morning. I thought it was okay at first.”

  “You didn’t clean it properly,” he said.

  She glanced at Michael, then away. “I realize that now.”

  The doctor turned to him. “You should take better care of her, young man.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  The doctor returned his attention to Chelsea. “I’m going to take a blood sample, just to make sure you haven’t given yourself blood poisoning. Then I’ll give you some antibiotics.”

  “Okay.”

  Michael looked at the diplomas on the wall. “You went to medical school in Prague?” he asked.

  Janecek gave him a startled look. “Why, yes. I was born in the U.S., but I went back to my parents’ country for medical school.”

  “How did you end up in Jenkins Cove?”

  “The town needed a doctor, and I liked the pace of life here.”

  Deliberately, Janecek turned back to Chelsea.

  Michael nodded, watching as the physician swabbed alcohol on Chelsea’s arm and took the sample. Next, he gave her an antibiotic shot and some pills for a follow-up. When they were finished, Michael excused himself to use the bathroom, then took a quick look around. Janecek seemed as if he was being evasive. Was he hiding something? Like maybe he’d faked his medical degree?

  Or maybe he just wasn’t used to anyone asking questions about his background. Still, it might be worth checking him out.

  They were out of the office in less than half an hour.

  “Was the doctor here when you were a little girl?” Michael asked.

  “I think so. Why?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “I hope Aunt Sophie isn’t worried,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Incredible as it may seem, we haven’t been away all that long.”

  She nodded. “I guess it only seems like days since we started out this morning.” She gave him a questioning look. “What happened to the gun?”

  “I’ve still got it.”

  “Good. Because we might need protection.”

  “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.”

  “That’s why I bought it in the first place.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we should call the state police and make sure they know about the grave site.” She swallowed hard. “Thanks for not mentioning the ghost.”

  “I didn’t think Draper or Hammer would deal with that too well.”

  When they stepped back into the House of the Seven Gables, Aunt Sophie gave them a questioning look. “What happened to the two of you? Chelsea, where’s your coat?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Her aunt’s eyes narrowed. “I think you had better level with me. Something’s been happening, and you’ve been keeping me out of the loop, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” Chelsea admitted in a low voice.

  “Come into the kitchen. I want both of you to tell me what’s going on.” She made a little sound. “Well, not everything. There are some things I don’t need to know.”

  Chelsea flushed, and Michael felt his face heat. Apparently, Aunt Sophie didn’t miss much.

  In the kitchen they told her about the shooting incident and their escape.

  “This is getting serious,” Sophie murmured.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “It’s lucky we’re not having a lot of guests this week.”

  “Is that unusual?” Michael asked.

  “Well, we wanted to relax after the party,” Sophie allowed.

  They talked for a while longer, and then Chelsea excused herself to call the garage.

  After he’d showered and put his own clothes back on, he went up to her room. When he knocked, she called out, “Come in.”

  She was standing in the middle of the room, with wet hair and wearing one of the B & B’s robes. She looked so sweet and vulnerable that his heart turned over.

  “How are you?” he asked, crossing the room and taking her in his arms.

  “Fine.”

  “You can’t be, after what you’ve been through.”

  “I’m fine when you’re holding me.” She tipped her head up, and he brought his lips to hers for a kiss that quickly turned greedy.

  “So, what are we going to do?” she asked when the kiss broke. “Do I sneak down to your room tonight, or do you sneak up here?”

  “Do you think either one of those is a good idea?” he asked.

  “You’re right. It will be harder to explain your being up here. I’ll come down to your room.”

  “Chelsea!”

  “You don’t want me?”

  “Of course I want you.”

  She grinned and pulled the edge of the robe open a little, then guided his hand inside.

  He made a low sound when he encountered her naked breast, and felt her nipple tighten under his touch.

  “We can’t do this now,” he muttered, hearing his voice turn rough.

  “I just want you to know what you’ll be missing if you lock your door. It won’t do you any good, anyway. I’ve got the key.”

  “Yeah. So I might as well surrender.”

  “Good decision.”

  He knew that if he didn’t take his hand away, they were headed for the nearby bed. He pulled back and asked, “Can you do me a favor?”

  “What?”

  “Get Phil Cardon in here to do some work. I’d like to have a look in his tool kit. And his car. We might even find out something from the way he acts.”

  She thought for a moment. “There are several repairs we need done, and some painting. With the house almost empty, doing the work now would make sense.”

  “Do you mind having him do those things? I could pay for it, if that’s a problem.”

  “No. We need to have the work done anyway. I’ll call him after I get dressed.”

  Before Michael could get into trouble, he left the room.

  ***

  CHELSEA DRESSED and walked downstairs to the office, where she called Phil.

  “I was hoping you could do some repair work for us,” she said. Quickly she outlined the projects. “When could you come?” she asked.

  “I had a cancellation for tomorrow,” he said.

  “Perfect.”

  “Around nine?”

  “Yes.”

  After transacting the business, she hung up, then stood looking out the window, suddenly overcome by everything that had happened since last night.

  It had been quite a lot—starting with the ghost and ending with almost getting arrested. In between, she and Michael had made love. And she was getting ready to do it again tonight.

  Things were moving very quickly with Michael. More quickly than they ever had in her life.

  Well, she’d worry about that later, she told herself as she climbed the stairs to her room. Right now, she was dead tired.

  She lay down, intending to relax for a few minutes. Instead, she was instantly asleep.

  ***

  MICHAEL EXPECTED TO SEE Chelsea that evening. But when he heard a knock at his door, he opened it and found Aunt Sophie standing there.

  “In case you were planning on meeting Chelsea later, I thought I’d better warn you that she’s sleeping. And she looks like she’s
down for the count.”

  He tried to keep his voice cool. “I appreciate your telling me.”

  “Things have changed between you,” Aunt Sophie said.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other but didn’t answer.

  Sophie gave him a long look, but mercifully, she said nothing else before turning on her heel and leaving.

  In truth, Michael was also zonked by the day’s ordeal. He went to bed early and woke up to the sound of pounding somewhere in the house.

  Quickly he got up and dressed, then went into the dining room, where he found Chelsea waiting for him.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “About what?”

  She lowered her voice. “Not coming to your room.”

  He stepped closer and cupped his hand over her shoulder. “We both needed to sleep.”

  “Still…”

  He looked toward the kitchen and leaned forward so he could give her a quick kiss.

  She stepped closer, leaning into him. They stood close together for several moments, and he drank in her familiar scent.

  A noise in the kitchen made them both jump and move a few feet apart.

  “Is that Phil working?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Keep him in the kitchen. I’m going to go out and look at his truck. If it looks like he’s coming out, warn me.”

  She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Quickly he exited through the front door and walked around to where the handyman had left his truck—the same one they’d seen him in the day before.

  The door was unlocked, and Michael leaned inside. He found what he was looking for in the glove compartment—a handgun.

  Before he could check to see if it had been fired, a sharp rap on the window made him slam the compartment closed and leap out of the truck.

  He’d barely closed the door when Phil appeared.

  The handyman gave him a long look. “Something I can do for you?”

  “No. I was just catching a little air.”

  “Without your coat?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes fixed on the man. “Like you.”

  “I’m only out here to get my paintbrushes and tray.”

  “I’m only out here for a few minutes,” Michael countered.

  Phil brushed past him and headed toward the tool locker in the truck bed.

  Michael ducked back into the house, where Chelsea was waiting for him. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “I wonder if he thinks we’re up to something.”

  “Don’t know.”

  “You have a lot of experience with this cloak-and-dagger stuff?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “A little.”

  “Where did you pick it up?”

  He shrugged again. “Here and there.”

  He could have told her that it was a skill an investigative reporter needed, but he ducked the question by asking, “What’s for breakfast?”

  “French toast.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  In the dining room, he picked up a copy of the Washington Post, folded it to the editorial section and read some of the commentaries as he waited for his breakfast.

  Phil exited the kitchen and walked through the dining room, carrying his painting equipment. He gave Michael a sharp look as he passed.

  Michael just kept reading the newspaper.

  Aunt Sophie delivered his breakfast, and he began to eat. He was still sitting at the table when he heard voices in the kitchen.

  Was that Phil talking to Aunt Sophie?

  No, Phil had gone to some other part of the house. He could have come back in, though, through the kitchen door.

  And he could be up to no good.

  Quietly, Michael stood up and walked to the door. When he pushed it open a crack, he saw a man he didn’t immediately recognize. Then he remembered the guy’s name. Edwin Leonard.

  He and Aunt Sophie were talking earnestly, both with their backs to him.

  Taking the opportunity to find out what they were concerned about, he stayed where he was, eavesdropping.

  “I don’t like to be disloyal to Mr. Brandon,” Leonard was saying as he hunched his shoulders and leaned closer to Sophie.

  “Just because he’s hiding papers, that’s no reason to get upset,” Aunt Sophie said gently.

  “But I’ve been with him for years, and it’s not like him to be so secretive.”

  “Well, if you’re worried, you should go to the police,” Aunt Sophie murmured.

  “I’ve never trusted the cops,” Leonard answered.

  “Yes, well, I can understand why you don’t think much of Chief Hammer.”

  “There’s something about that man that sets my teeth on edge,” Edwin muttered.

  “I agree entirely.”

  A noise from behind him made Michael go rigid. Quietly he closed the door and turned—to find Chelsea staring at him.

  “Can I help you?” she said, an edge in her voice.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Michael took several steps away from the door and turned to face her. “Edwin Leonard is upset about something. Something to do with Brandon Drake.”

  “It makes me uncomfortable when you listen in on Aunt Sophie.”

  “Well, it was actually Edwin. Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded.

  “It’s got to do with Brandon Drake hiding some papers. Maybe you can find out more about it.”

  “If I can find a graceful way to do it.”

  Michael could see that Chelsea was on edge. He didn’t blame her. He was on edge, too. He was just handling it differently.

  He cleared his throat. “What’s the name of that detective who was here from the state police?”

  “Rand McClellan.”

  “I think I’m going to tell him what’s been happening to us.”

  She answered with a tight nod.

  “You don’t approve?”

  “I do. But I’m starting to wonder about my judgment.”

  He gave her a long look. He wanted to ask exactly what she meant. But he didn’t want to push her into saying something he didn’t want to hear.

  “I wonder if Chief Hammer will think we’re pulling rank on him,” she whispered.

  “The heck with Hammer. I want to make sure nothing happens to you.”

  He wanted to reach for her and hold on to her—to reassure himself that everything was okay between them. But the look in her eyes made him back away.

  In his room he debated whether to call the barracks or just show up. He liked the idea of taking the detective by surprise, but he could be wasting a trip out there if the guy wasn’t available. So, he called.

  Rand McClellan wasn’t at his desk when Michael arrived at the barracks. He was outside on a basketball court behind the building, wearing sweatpants and a sweat jacket and dribbling a ball.

  “Kind of informal, aren’t we?” Michael asked as the detective passed the ball to him. He dribbled it a couple of times, then aimed for the basket, made the shot and passed the ball back.

  Was this guy putting him on?

  The cop dribbled the ball a few times and took a shot.

  “You must have played in college,” Michael commented.

  “High school—like you.”

  Michael watched the ball hit the rim and circle before dropping into the basket. “You had to do some digging to find about my high school basketball days.”

  “But your article about the clients at that investment firm was pretty easy to find. Did ghosts bring you to Jenkins Cove?”

  To hide his surprise, Michael bounced the ball, then shot again—and missed. “Okay, yeah.”

  “So, what do you want to know—if I think Chelsea Caldwell really did see a ghost?”

  “No, I’ve changed my mind about the supernatural.”

  “Oh yeah? What happened?”

  “Some weird stuff that you probably wouldn’t believe.”
/>
  “Try me.”

  “Let’s just keep this on the factual level. I want to tell you that Chelsea’s in danger.” As he gave an account of the incidents of the past few days, the cop stopped dribbling and studied him. “Hammer share any of that with you?” Michael asked.

  “Actually, no.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  McClellan shrugged. “It could be because I’m invading his territory.”

  “You think he doesn’t want to find out who killed that girl?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But you’re not sure about his motives,” Michael pressed.

  “I try not to jump to conclusions.”

  “That’s refreshing.”

  “I appreciate your stopping by,” McClellan said. “And if you can keep me in the loop, I appreciate that, too.” He handed Michael a card with a phone number. “That’s my direct line.”

  “You have any leads on the case?” he asked McClellan. “Did you identify the woman who was murdered?”

  “Nobody reported missing.” The cop gave him a direct look. “It might be safer for you if you got out of town.”

  “Funny, that was the advice Hammer gave Chelsea. But she’s not going anywhere, and neither am I. That would leave her unprotected.”

  “You aim to protect her?”

  “I do.” His gaze bored into the detective. “Have you taken her off your suspect list?”

  “What makes you think she’s on it?”

  “She found the body.”

  McClellan sighed. “That’s the only connection I can find.”

  “Good.”

  The detective turned toward the station, then spun back. He gave Michael a long, hard look. “A piece of advice, Mr. Bryant. Watch your back.”

  ***

  AS CHELSEA ENTERED THE OFFICE she remembered the unsettling feeling from earlier that day when she’d stepped into the kitchen. Edwin and her aunt had been talking but had gone quiet as soon as they saw her.

  Had they been talking about Brandon Drake? Or had the conversation turned personal?

  She hadn’t found out because almost as soon as she’d entered the room, Edwin excused himself, saying he needed to get back to Drake House.

  Aunt Sophie had offered no insight when Chelsea had questioned her.

  “The conversation was nothing you have to worry about,” she’d said.

  Since then, Chelsea had other things on her mind. Serious things. Like Michael. She’d rushed into an intimate relationship with a man she hardly knew, and now she was wondering if she’d moved too fast.