Who Loves Ya, Baby?

by Gemma Bruce

  Julie stopped smiling. “You mean like I just accused Cas.”

  “Yep. So what are you going to do?”

  “Give up I guess. I called Henryville after I talked to you. The realtor’s coming out tomorrow to look at the house and give me an estimate on its selling value. Then it will go on the market.” She glanced up at the gazebo and had to swallow twice before she asked, “Would you be willing to take the chickens?”

  Maude frowned at her. Scratched her head. “Well, yeah, but you can’t move Hillary while she’s brooding.”

  “Oh. How much longer is that?”

  “Another two weeks. Of course, you could always just force her off the nest. Kill the little chick. Hillary will probably go into a decline. It happens with chickens sometimes. Then if she dies, I don’t know what will happen to Bill.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll stay until the chick is hatched. Then can you take them?”

  Maude smiled. “Sure. If you still want me to. See ya.” She hoisted herself into the panel truck and drove away.

  That afternoon the weather turned dismal and cold. That night Smitty woke her again with his trips to the window. At last she joined him and they sat watching the darkness. Occasionally, Julie thought she saw the wink of lights in the woods and apple orchard, but dismissed them as optical illusions brought on by lack of sleep.

  There were no new holes around the gazebo the next morning, but the temperature continued to drop and heavy dark clouds rolled in and seemed to sit above the old Gothic house. There was definitely a storm on the way and Julie alternated between wanting to leave before it started and kicking herself for her lack of loyalty to Wes and his chickens.

  The real estate agent came and was not encouraging. The house needed work, the market was slow. Cas didn’t come out to investigate her break-in. And even though she’d told Lou not to tell him, she was pissed at him anyway.

  Things were looking bleak. She needed an income and she needed to get back to work for her psyche as well as for her bank account. What she didn’t need was to get trapped here in the snow. But what was she going to do with Hilary?

  Julie began to prepare for the storm. She moved the feed barrel into the mesh enclosure, rounded up snow shovels and checked the gazebo for chinks that would let in the snow.

  And still no word from Cas. She considered going down to the Roadhouse for company, but Cas might be there, and she’d be damned if she would act like she was chasing him. She’d leave those tactics to Isabelle Schott and Emily Patterson.

  She called to Smitty and took him for a walk in the woods. But just as they reached the trees, Smitty stopped and growled. Julie stopped too. And listened. Then Smitty bounded off through the woods.

  She hurried after him and found him standing over another freshly dug hole. She knelt down and looked at it more closely. Not an animal’s hole; this one bore the marks of a tool, and Julie remembered Dan Pliney telling her about the rush for shovels. Someone had been digging on her land.

  Not Cas; he would have started at their old hiding places. This hole was in the middle of nothing, just trees. No fountain, no silk, no reason to be dug here. And for the first time since discovering the break-in, Julie thought it might not be Cas who was after her inheritance.

  They found several more holes along the path and two around the base of the boulder where she had fallen into Cas’s arms a few days before.

  Julie erased that image from her mind. Cas might be exonerated from some things, but he was still a cheat. And Julie Excelsior didn’t put up with cheats. If she did, she’d still be at work in the NYPD.

  She walked along the path until they came out into the orchard. There were holes everywhere. Smitty ran from hole to hole, sniffing and lifting his nose to the wind. Several times he ran a few yards into the woods, but came back a minute later.

  “Whoever was here,” she told him, “is long gone. And if you ask me, there were a lot of them. Come on. It’s time we did something about keeping them from coming back.”

  She started toward the house, but Smitty ran toward the woods and looked back at her. He barked and took off through the trees. A minute later, she heard a sharp preemptory bark. More holes, she thought, and went to check it out. But Smitty hadn’t just found a hole, he’d cornered two men at the ruins of the old smokehouse. Their shovels were raised over their heads, ready to fend Smitty off.

  “Hey,” she cried and ran toward them. They looked up, threw their shovels at Smitty and ran into the trees. Smitty yelped as one hit him on the flank.

  “Damn you,” yelled Julie and ran after them. Smitty soon passed her and when Julie caught up to him, a rusty red Jeep was bumping down the path back to Hillcrest Drive. She considered trying to cut through the orchard and beat them to it, but knew she would never make it. At least she had a description of the Jeep.

  Smitty trotted back to her. A piece of blue denim hung from his mouth.

  “Good boy, I hope you got a big piece of flesh, too.”

  As soon as she got back to the house, she put in a call to the police station. Cas could just start earning his pay for a change and go after the Jeep owner.

  Lou answered.

  Julie cut across her good morning and said, “Is the sheriff there?”

  “Why yes,” said Lou, sounding a little hurt. “I’ll just put him on.”

  Cas came on the line. “Cas Reynolds,” he said.

  Julie rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what had happened to make him act like a stranger, but it was fine with her. Once a fair-weather friend, always a fair-weather friend. She’d learned her lesson.

  “There are people digging up my land,” she said without even bothering to tell him who was calling. He’d recognize her voice soon enough. There was silence on the other end. “I just discovered two men digging a hole at the smokehouse. They got away, but they were driving a rusty red Jeep and one of them has a hole in his jeans where Smitty nipped him.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Are you planning to do something about it or are you going to sit there letting moss grow?”

  “I’m sure you’re much better equipped to handle it than I am.”

  “What? You’re the—” And then it hit her. He knew she was a cop and he was reacting just like she knew he would. Men and their fragile egos. “Fine,” she said and hung up. Once she caught herself a few bad guys, she was going to let Tilda have it, because she was the only person who could have ratted her out to Cas.

  She went upstairs and got her Glock out of the drawer. But when she turned to leave, Smitty was sitting in the doorway, blocking her way out.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot anybody. But I’ll scare the hell out of them if I can. And if I can capture them, I’ll take them down to the station and see how Cas’s ego survives that.” She climbed over Smitty and headed down the hall. Smitty padded after her and they were soon back in the woods, looking for Glock fodder.

  Cas slammed the phone down. “Don’t say it,” he warned Lou as she started to speak.

  She said it anyway. “According to your Glamourscope, this is not the day to alienate friends. And if you ask me, you were doing a whole lot of alienating on the phone just now.” She pursed her lips at him, reminding him of a malevolent teacher he’d had at boarding school.

  “Cut me a break, Lou.” He lifted his jacket off the coat rack and put it on. “I’m going out there. She just took me by surprise.”

  Lou grinned at him from behind her magazine. “She sure as hell did.” She was chuckling to herself when he left the station.

  He was just about to get into the police car when he saw Dan Pliney running up the street, waving him down.

  Dan stopped at the car, took a couple of deep breaths, then said, “I don’t know if this means anything, Cas. But the Hardware and Feed’s had a run on shovels and picks and any other tool that’ll dig. And there’s a rumor going around town that there’s treasure buried on the Excelsior land. Julie was just i
n yesterday getting a lock to replace one on her kitchen window. She didn’t say why, but Wes just replaced all the locks last year. I sold them to him, and there wasn’t a defective one in the batch.” He stopped to take a breath. “Are you taking this all in, Cas? Are you all right? You’re looking a little funny.”

  “Yeah,” said Cas, feeling anything but all right.

  “And Roy Nesbitt was in today and he said someone broke into the Vale’s and they went through the window. So what I’m thinking is—”

  “Thanks, Dan, I’m on my way there now.”

  He made it to Excelsior House in record time. He was an idiot. Telling her to handle it herself. She’d probably kill somebody and then where would he be? He raced up the driveway, screeched around the pond, and jolted to a stop just as a gunshot rang out from the woods.

  “Not again,” he yelled, banged on the door and ran toward the woods without any thought but preventing Julie from being killed or doing something stupid.

  Julie crouched below the boulder, holding Smitty with all her might. “Stay,” she whispered. “Stay.” Somebody had shot at her. They’d missed by a mile, but she could feel the sting on her cheek where the bullet had chipped off a piece of granite and sent it flying into her face.

  She’d had it with these people. Was Julie Excelsior fair game for every greedy, crazy asshole in town? Smitty growled low in his throat.

  “Quiet.” She could hear them coming. Checking to see whether they had succeeded in killing her? She’d give them a surprise they’d never forget. Too bad she didn’t have Tilda’s shotgun. Now that would give her some real satisfaction.

  She eased away from Smitty and crouched, ready to spring. She still held her Glock, but if she could catch them off guard, she could bring them down without firepower.

  She saw a flash of brown jacket. She leaned forward on the balls of her feet. Just a little closer, come on. Come to Julie.

  The shooter stepped out of the trees. Julie sprang from her hiding place. Smitty leapt past her. The man fell back under their impact. As soon as they hit the ground, Julie turned him face down and locked his arm behind him.

  “Good work, Smitty. Now, you son of a—” She knew that jacket. She knew that body. “It’s you,” she said, anger and hurt boiling over.

  “Mrrghph,” said Cas Reynolds. Her lover. Her nemesis. The man who had just tried to kill her.

  Julie felt tears of rage, of hurt, of disappointment clog her throat. “Guard him, Smitty.” She ground her knee into Cas’s back as she crawled off him.

  “Jul—”

  Smitty growled and he shut up. Julie stood over him, aiming her Glock. It was shaking in her hand, so she eased her finger from the trigger. She didn’t want to shoot him by mistake. She didn’t want to shoot him at all. He was her Cas. Her best friend. And even though he’d just tried to kill her, she still loved him. You are sick, she told herself. “Get up.”

  Cas slowly rolled over and sat up. He was staring at the Glock. “Haven’t we been here before?” He gave her a crooked smile. Julie didn’t react. “Oh, hell,” he said. “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” she said, drawing on all her training to brazen this out without bursting into tears. “You know. You should have thought of another way to get rid of me. You still can’t shoot worth shit.”

  “Me?” said Cas, looking genuinely startled. “You think I shot at you? Are you nuts? You called me, for Chrissakes.”

  “And since you’re here, how about answering a few questions? Like what are you after? I know you held out on me about the thieves. Were you planning to steal the treasure? Do you know what it is? Did you already steal it?”

  “What?”

  “I looked up the poem on the internet. No locks are there on this stronghold, but thieves break in and steal the gold? Sound familiar?”

  Cas lowered his eyes.

  “God, and to think I—” Julie sniffed. “I fucked you. You could have killed me in my sleep.”

  “Would you shut up and let me try to explain?”

  “No.”

  Cas lifted his hands and Julie’s gun hand tightened. But he just scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Just—”

  “No!” She motioned for him to get up. He pushed himself to his feet. Took a step toward her.

  “Stop right there.”

  He stopped. “You didn’t fire that shot?” he asked.

  Julie scowled at him. “Oh, puh-lease. If I had, I wouldn’t have missed my target. And do you see a wounded man here anywhere? I don’t. I just see a stupid one.”

  Cas flinched and Julie felt miserable. “Now, get going.”

  She followed him back to the house. Every time he tried to speak, she shut him up with a poke in the back. She stopped him by the police car. “Get in. Don’t come back here again. Don’t call. Don’t try to kill me because I won’t be responsible for what I do the next time. You can have the damn treasure, whatever it is. I’m leaving as soon as I get the chickens over to Maude’s. I don’t want to see you again. I’m not going to try to solve the riddle, so you don’t have to worry about me getting in your way.”

  “Julie, be—”

  “Get in the car, now.”

  He opened the door, looked at her before getting in.

  “Now,” said Julie, fighting so hard for control, that she could feel her jaw quivering.

  He got in the car and turned on the engine. Then she watched as he drove away. The tears began to fall before he even reached the pond. And so did the snow.

  Someone had shot at Julie. And she thought it was him. She actually thought he tried to kill her. When all he wanted was to love her. And have her love him in return.

  Another dream killed here on the hill. She was leaving. And Cas guessed he should be leaving, too. He thought of the Julie E. lying upside down in the machine shop. No reason to finish her now.

  The only thing he could do now was go to Reynolds Place, tell his father that he’d won again, and confiscate another rifle. He’d nearly killed her today. Cas had seen blood on her cheek. Well, she’d be gone soon, and Reynolds could shoot away to his heart’s content. Because Cas wouldn’t be here to stop him. Wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t care.

  He turned into the drive. Fat snowflakes began to drop on the windshield and slowly melt. He stopped the car and entered the house without knocking.

  His father was in the library, looking dapper and lordly, not like a man who had just nearly committed murder.

  Cas walked in and closed the door. “No. More. Shooting.”

  Reynolds looked up, stared at him through horn-rimmed glasses, then quickly took them off.

  “I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “You have to stop shooting at the Excelsiors.”

  “It’s bad times when a son talks to his father this way.”

  “No more,” said Cas through clenched teeth.

  His father drew himself up. “They started it.”

  “Oh Christ,” said Cas, exasperated beyond coping. “That was over a century ago. It was the goddam Civil War, for Chrissakes.”

  “Josiah Excelsior killed your great-great-grandfather.”

  Cas sank into the chair across from Reynolds. “You don’t know that. He didn’t confess. It was never proven.”

  “He inherited the factory, didn’t he?”

  “And the factory closed when the war ended and nobody needed rifles anymore.” Except the Reynoldses, who couldn’t seem to stop reliving the past.

  “They made a fortune.”

  “And our family made a fortune banking it for them. What’s to fight about?”

  “Josiah—”

  “Oh, hell.” Cas stood up, placed his hands on the desk and leaned toward Reynolds. “You’ve gotten your way. Julie’s leaving. It’s over between us. You win. Are you satisfied? You win. But I’m finished with you. You won’t see me again.”

  The door opened. Marian swept in wearing a yellow floral dress.

  “Cas, dear. I
didn’t know you were here. I’ll just have Larue—”

  “Thanks, no,” said Cas, his eyes riveted on Reynolds. He pushed away from the desk. “Goodbye, mother.” He kissed her cheek, then strode out of Reynolds Place, out of their lives, into a darker world.

  Julie cruised the Roadhouse parking lot and not seeing a green truck or police car, she went inside. She marched over to the bar and said, “Did you tell Cas I was a cop?”

  Tilda looked up. “No, but he knew. Sit that angry little butt down and I’ll get you a beer.”

  Suddenly deflated, Julie sat down. “He tried to kill me,” she said when Tilda returned with a mug of Foster’s. “He can’t shoot worth shit and he tried to kill me.”

  “Whoa, girl. What are you talking about?”

  Julie took a long drink of beer, a deep breath, then proceeded to tell Tilda about the riddle, about Cas holding out on her, how someone had broken into her house, and everything else, including her run-in with Cas that afternoon.

  “Shit,” said Tilda when Julie finally wound down. “There’s been some speculation about Wes’s fortune; there was bound to be. But digging up your land? That’s wild.”

  “And against the law,” said Julie. “Though the law here doesn’t give a shit.”

  “Oh, he gives a shit all right. He’s just a little fuzzy on what to do about it. I figure you’ve got two choices.”

  “And those would be?”

  “Give him time to figure it out on his own. Or hold him at gunpoint until you get what you want from him.”

  Julie sighed. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “It always is with men,” said Tilda. “What do you want from him?”

  Julie finished off her beer. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”

  Tilda shook her head. “You are the two most skittish people I know. Give yourselves a break and have some fun.”

  “Yeah,” said Julie. “I’ll see you later. I don’t want to leave Smitty alone with all the traffic at home.”