Blogger Bundle Volume VIII: SBTB's Harlequins That Hooked You

by Jennifer Crusie

  “Shave first,” she told him. “And then we can play in the shower.”

  Dane stripped down to his briefs before he drew water in the sink and began shaving. Annie removed her jacket, slacks and blouse and folded them into her overnight bag, then took off her knee-highs, bra and panties and shoved them into a small plastic laundry bag. She slipped into her red-and-gold silk robe.

  When she entered the bathroom, Dane splashed his face with water, removing the remaining shave cream, and reached out for her. He caught the belt of her robe, pulled it loose and slid his hand inside and around her waist. The robe fell open. She leaned into him, allowing her breasts to rake his chest.

  Dane sucked in a deep breath, tugged the robe off her shoulders and tossed it on the floor. After reaching inside to adjust the water, he lifted Annie and set her under the shower. He stripped off his briefs and joined her.

  They bathed each other, savoring each touch, enjoying the foreplay that soon led to the lovemaking they both wanted—both needed. The fire between them burned hotter and higher, showing no signs of dying out anytime soon.

  An hour later, Dane, in his wrinkled slacks and unbuttoned shirt opened the door for pizza delivery, while Annie blow-dried her still damp hair.

  “Pizza’s here,” he told her, and held up the large box.

  Annie finished with the dryer, laid it on the vanity and ran a comb through her hair. “I can smell it all the way in here. I’m famished.”

  Dane set the box on the table, flipped the lids on the two colas and spread out napkins. “Dinner is served, madam.”

  Annie emerged from the bathroom, wearing her robe and nothing else. She grabbed a piece of pizza and plopped down into the chair. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.”

  “I think that’s pepperoni and sausage,” Dane said teasingly. “But if you’d prefer horsemeat, I can toss this pizza in the garbage and call them to order another one.”

  Cutting her eyes toward him, Annie gave him a hard look. “Don’t you dare touch this pizza.”

  A soft rap at their motel room door ended Annie and Dane’s teasing. Annie held the pizza halfway to her mouth. Dane dropped the piece he’d just picked up back into the box.

  “I’ll go,” he told her.

  Dane glanced through the viewfinder and saw Rene Edwards’s redheaded neighbor standing on the other side of the door. He unlatched the safety catch, unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door.

  “Hello again, Mr. Carmichael,” the woman said, a tense smile on her face. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  Dane stood aside to allow her into the room. He glanced over at Annie, who laid her piece of pizza down into the box, stood up and secured the tie belt on her robe.

  “I’m sorry about this afternoon,” the redhead said. “I wanted to talk to you, but my husband wouldn’t let me.”

  “Won’t you sit down, Mrs., er, Mrs.?”

  “Franklin. Tina Franklin.” She crossed her arms at her waist and rubbed her elbows nervously.

  “Do you know where Rene Edwards is?” Annie asked as she approached their visitor.

  “Are you really a private investigator, Mr. Carmichael?” Tina asked.

  “Yes.” He reached inside his jacket, which hung on the back of the chair where he’d been sitting, and pulled out his ID. “If this isn’t enough, I can give you a number to call to verify my identity.”

  Tina inspected Dane’s ID, then handed it back to him. “What about her?” She nodded toward Annie.

  “This is Annie Harden. She’s my client. Mrs. Harden is the publisher of a regional magazine in Alabama. Recently one of her reporters was murdered and since then someone has been trying to kill Ms. Harden. We have reason to believe—”

  “They killed Rene’s cousin? Oh, God! Oh, God!”

  “Rene’s cousin?” Annie asked.

  “Mrs. Franklin, please, calm down and tell us—”

  “I had to make sure you weren’t one of them,” Tina interrupted. “If someone killed Rene’s cousin and they’re trying to kill her—” Tina glanced at Annie “—then it must be them, the same men who warned Don and me to keep our mouths shut.”

  Dane and Annie exchanged questioning looks, then Dane asked, “What men are you talking about, Mrs. Franklin?”

  “About two and half weeks ago, a couple of men came snooping around Rene’s house, just like you two did this afternoon.”

  When Dane noticed how shaky their guest looked, he pulled out a chair. “Won’t you sit down, Mrs. Franklin?”

  “Thanks.” She took the seat, placed her hands in her lap and glanced from Dane to Annie. “These guys were looking for Wilma, and when I told them that she was dead, they wanted to know how they could get in touch with Rene.” Tina rubbed her shaky hands together. “I told them I didn’t know where Rene had gone, just that she had recently put the house up for sale and moved away.”

  “Did you get their names?” Dane asked.

  “They didn’t give me their names, they just told me that if I knew where Rene was that I’d better tell them. They—they threatened me. I think they could tell I knew something because…well, they told me to keep my mouth shut if anybody else came around asking questions and that if I knew where Rene was I’d better tell them or I’d be sorry.”

  “Do you know something?” Annie asked.

  “Did you tell these men anything else?” Dane laid his hand on Tina’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, I told them.” Tears sprang into Tina’s hazel eyes. “They scared me. I was afraid not to tell them.”

  “Just what did you tell them?” Dane bent down on his haunches in front of Tina and took her hands into his. “It would help us a lot if you told us.”

  Tina sucked in a deep breath. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Rene and I were friends. She’s a good person. She took care of her mother after Mrs. Edwards got sick.” Tina nibbled on her bottom lip. “All Rene told me was that she’d gotten hold of some information that proved her father’s suicide twenty years ago had actually been murder. And she was scared because the person responsible for her father’s murder knew she had the information and had called to warn her to keep her mouth shut. She was afraid they might kill her, so she—she told me that she sent the information to her cousin in Alabama.”

  “Her cousin?” Annie came over to Tina and looked directly at her. “Did she tell you who her cousin was?”

  “No, she didn’t mention her cousin’s name. But she did tell me that her cousin was a reporter.”

  “Halley was Rene Edwards’s cousin?” Annie looked at Dane. “Is that possible? I’ve known Halley for several years and I thought I knew most of her relatives.”

  “They might not have been first cousins,” Dane said. He released Tina’s hands and stood. “Mrs. Franklin, do you have any idea where Rene Edwards might have gone?”

  “No, I swear. I don’t have the foggiest notion. I think she’s in hiding somewhere and she’s not going to show herself as long as she thinks her life is in danger.” Tina hung her head. “I told those men about Rene sending that information to her cousin. I didn’t mean to tell them, but…but I was so scared.”

  “We appreciate so much your coming here tonight.” Annie grasped Tina’s hand and shook it, then draped her arm around the woman as she stood and hugged her. “I promise you that we are going to find the person responsible for putting Rene on the run and we’ll make sure the whole truth about her father’s death comes out.”

  “I’ve got to go.” Tina backed toward the door. “I waited until Don went bowling with his friends before I came. I want to get home before he does. He’d be awfully upset if he knew I’d talked to you. He’s afraid for me.”

  “Before you leave, could you tell me what the two men who threatened you looked like?” Dane asked.

  “Sure. One guy was tall and dark and wore sunglasses. I figure he was in his thirties. The other guy, the one who made the threats, was older—early fifties, I’d say. He was stocky and h
ad a real short haircut. And his accent was like yours. Very Southern.”

  “Thanks.” Dane walked Tina outside. “If Rene contacts you—” he handed her his business card “—call this number and they’ll know how to reach me. Day or night.”

  Tina nodded, then ran down the corridor and out to her car. Dane returned to the room and locked the door behind him.

  “If Martin Edwards didn’t commit suicide, then who killed him and why?” Annie asked. “Could it have been that he wasn’t responsible for the illegal PCB dumping and was going to turn in whoever was?”

  “He was the plant manager,” Dane said. “He was the man in charge. He had to have known what was going on and was probably the person who ordered the dumping.”

  “But he had to answer to the company owner—to Richard Hughes!” Annie took a hesitant step toward Dane. “Maybe Edwards was just following orders.”

  “Richard owns several companies in the Southeast, but twenty years ago he was headquartered just outside Savannah. He started sending Dickie around to the various plants when he was just a teenager. He wanted his son to learn the business from the ground up. Maybe Dickie—”

  “You just aren’t willing to explore the possibility that Richard Hughes could be behind everything, are you? You think he’s too much of a Southern gentleman to order an illegal PCB dumping or to let one of his plant managers take the rap. You don’t think he’s capable of ordering someone’s murder.” Annie’s face flushed with anger. “Well, he was capable of covering up his wife’s suicide and his daughter’s.”

  She almost wished the words back when she saw the look on Dane’s face. He couldn’t have looked more stunned or saddened if she had slapped him.

  “There’s a big difference in trying to protect those you love from scandal and in committing a crime—to being responsible for having someone murdered.”

  “Then if it wasn’t Richard Hughes who—”

  “First of all, we don’t know for sure that Martin Edwards was murdered,” Dane told her. “And if he was murdered because he was about to blow the whistle on someone else who was responsible for the PCB dumping, then there are other possible suspects. Dickie, for one. Even if he was only eighteen, he was the boss’s son and would have used his position to do whatever he wanted to. And Jason Webber definitely comes to mind. He was the chief of security at the plant, and Tina Franklin’s description of the man who threatened her could fit Webber.”

  “We aren’t going to find out any more staying here in Ohio,” Annie said. “Why don’t we see if we can get a flight out tonight? We need to talk to Richard as soon as possible. If he’s innocent, maybe he can shed some light on this and even help us.”

  “He’s innocent,” Dane said.

  “I hope you’re right. After all, you’re not the only person who thinks highly of Richard. My aunt and uncle are close friends with Gloria and him. And practically the whole town of Florence is working on his election campaign. Your former father-in-law has a great deal to lose, if he turns out not to be the man you think he is.”

  He accepted the drink offered him. He actually preferred his whiskey on the rocks, but his employer served the bourbon straight.

  “So, Dane and Annie flew to Ohio this morning,” his boss said. “Do you think the Franklin woman will talk?”

  “I think we scared her enough to keep her quiet, if she actually knows where Rene Edwards is.”

  “And what if she tells Dane Carmichael what she does know?”

  “Isn’t that the reason we wanted Carmichael to take Ms. Harden’s case?” he asked.

  “Dane is one of our kind, that’s for sure, but he’s an honest man. And truly honest men can be dangerous.”

  “Are you saying that, if it comes down to it, you’re willing for me to eliminate both Annie and Dane?”

  “If it comes down to it, then, regrettably, yes, eliminate both of them.”

  Chapter 13

  Dane stood in the partially open door of Annie’s bedroom and watched her while she slept. They’d arrived back in Florence at dawn, both exhausted from their whirlwind trip to Ohio. He’d awakened an hour ago, at eight, showered and shaved and gone downstairs to start the coffee and make a few phone calls. Denby would get in touch with Dundee’s associates in Cincinnati and employ them to investigate Rene Edwards’s whereabouts. She would also dig for more information about Hughes Chemicals and Plastics here in Florence—twenty years ago, around the time of the PCB dumping and Martin Edwards’s death.

  Watching Annie as she lay in the center of the bed, her arms wrapped around the pillow on which he’d slept, as if she were hugging him, stirred some deep emotions within Dane. Emotions he’d rather not deal with. Not today. Not ever.

  He had loved only one woman in his whole life. Lorna. And he had failed her miserably. If only Lorna’s father had been honest with him about the mental illness that ran in her mother’s family—the illness that had led both Lorna’s mother and her to take their own lives. He would have done anything to save her. If only he’d known. Maybe the psychiatrist could have helped her more, if he’d known the truth about her family’s mental health history.

  Lorna had been born and bred to be a Southern gentleman’s wife, the kind of woman he had wanted and expected to marry. He had thought she was perfect for him, perfect in every way. And she had been perfect—except for one fatal flaw.

  In the ten years since Lorna’s death he hadn’t loved another woman, didn’t think he could ever care deeply for someone else. But here was Annie. Sassy, rebellious, independent Annie. He’d known the woman two weeks, yet he felt as if he’d known her forever. What he felt for her wasn’t what he’d felt for Lorna and it certainly wasn’t love. But he did care about Annie. He cared deeply.

  He thought they’d been right to admit their attraction to each other, to call it by its proper name—lust—and to agree that the best way to handle it was to accept it, give in to it and allow the fire to burn itself out. And it would burn out sooner or later. Something that powerful wouldn’t last.

  He couldn’t get enough of Annie or she of him. This hunger between them possessed them in a way neither could resist. He was drawn to her, and she to him, on the most primitive, basic level.

  Dane wanted to go to her, wake her and make love to her again. Selfish bastard, he rebuked himself. He needed to be thinking about finding the person who had ordered Halley Robinson’s murder, the person intent upon seeing Annie dead, instead of using his energy to contemplate the pleasures of having sex with his client.

  He eased the bedroom door closed, went downstairs and looked up the number for Hughes Chemicals and Plastics. Just as he reached for the telephone in the den, it rang.

  “Harden residence,” Dane said.

  “Dane?” Ellen Denby asked.

  “Yes. What’s up?”

  “I’ve followed through on your instructions,” she told him. “And I have some information that you might find interesting.”

  “What?”

  “It’s about the summer, twenty years ago, that all hell broke loose at Hughes Chemicals and Plastics in Florence, after the discovery that the plant had been illegally dumping PCBs into the river. Guess who was working there between his senior year of high school and the beginning of his freshman year of college?”

  “Dickie Hughes.” He’d known it! Damn, he’d known that if anyone had been involved in that mess it was Dickie. Not Richard.

  “Right. While he was working at the Florence plant, he and Jason Webber became friends. They were a couple of young bachelors who partied together. And—” Ellen paused for dramatic effect “—Richard Jr. was dating sixteen-year-old Rene Edwards!”

  “Webber and Dickie and Edwards. All together at the plant at the same time.” Dane’s mind went into overdrive as he tried to sort through the possibilities. But nothing added up. There had to be more. A missing piece of the puzzle.

  “One other thing,” Ellen said offhandedly. “I don’t know if it means anything, but th
at summer Dickie spent in Florence, he lived with Royce and Vera Layman.”

  “Layman!” Webber, Dickie, Edwards and Uncle Royce. Were they all involved? They had to be, if he could just figure out how.

  “I’d say you need to talk to Richard Hughes Sr. to find out just how much he knows about that summer and about Martin Edwards’s death.”

  “I don’t think Richard was involved,” Dane said. “In any way. He probably wasn’t even in the area that summer.”

  “Dane, don’t let your loyalty to your former father-in-law cloud your vision. Even if he wasn’t actually involved in the PCB dumping, or in forcing Edwards to take the rap, or in Edwards’s so-called suicide, he has to know something. Remember, he’s the man in charge. The big boss. At the very least, he allowed the coverup.”

  “Thanks, Denby. Keep me informed as soon as you get anything new on this case.”

  “Sure thing,” Ellen said. “By the way, how is Annie?”

  “Annie’s fine.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m really looking forward to meeting the lady who finally got through that thick hide of yours. She must be some woman!”

  “Stuff it, Denby!” Dane hung up the phone.

  Ellen was right. Annie had gotten to him, in a way no other woman ever had. But he’d be damned if he’d admit that to Dundee’s only female agent. Ellen had been needling him for a long time about his lack of a love life. A guy like you should be married and raising a family, she’d told him. You shouldn’t waste the rest of your life mourning your dead wife. He could have turned the tables on her and asked her why she wasn’t married, why he never saw her with the same guy twice. But nobody pried into Ellen’s private life. No one dared.

  Did he want to get married again? Did he want children? Maybe. Probably. But despite his relationship with Annie, he knew a future with her was probably out of the question. After all, they were totally unsuited. And they weren’t in love, just in lust.

  She would probably never see him as anything other than a duplicate of her father and ex-husband. And even if the day came when she could accept him for the man he really was, could he ever let go of the past, of his dream of the perfect wife, of his memories of Lorna?