DANGEROUS RELATIONS
By
Marilyn Levinson
Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon
2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-145-5
ISBN 10: 1-60174-145-6
Dangerous Relations
Copyright © 2012 by Marilyn Levinson
Cover design
Copyright © 2012 by Judith B. Glad
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.
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CHAPTER ONE
The ringing doorbell jarred Ardin Wesley out of her deep slumber. She sprang from the borrowed cot, her heart pounding like a pneumatic drill. Oh, God, Corey forgot his key! Now he'd be angry--drunk and angry--and come after her, fists flying.
The bell rang again, pulling her back to the reality of the here-and-now. Breathe deeply. Corey won't hurt you ever again. He has a new wife to knock about. Other matters on his mind. He'd shown up at her cousin's funeral, teary-eyed and grief-stricken, putting proof to the buzz that he and Suziette had been carrying on hot and heavy was no rumor at all.
Ardin was struggling into her old flannel bathrobe when a third ring, sharp and insistent, sent her running to the door of her mother's apartment.
"Who's there?" She peered through the peephole. Her heart continued to race, but to a lighter, happier beat when she recognized the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Brett Waterstone.
She opened the door. "Brett, what are you doing here?" It was only when her cousin's widower stood towering over her that she remembered he might very well be Suziette's murderer.
"Are you all right?" he said. "I was beginning to worry when you didn't answer. I knew you were here. Spotted your car as I was parking."
With the easy grace of a baseball player, Brett strode into the living room, empty except for a few cartons and her father's old desk, which she was bringing home to Manhattan. Curly black hair and green eyes set off the strong, even features she had adored when they were kids. But tonight his hair and clothing were disheveled, his eyes bloodshot as they studied her face.
"I was dead to the world," Ardin said, suddenly self-conscious of her own unkempt appearance, of her poor choice of words. "I've been looking after Aunt Julia since early this morning. I made my getaway the minute the last guest stepped out the door."
Ardin tucked a strand of ash-blonde hair behind her ear and hoped she didn't look totally washed out as she wasn't wearing a trace of makeup, but Brett didn't seem to notice.
"I am sorry! I should have realized you'd go straight to bed after all you've been through today." He glanced down at his watch. "Jeez, it's after ten. I had no idea of the time. I've been driving around thinking, when it dawned on me you're the person I need to talk to."
He hesitated. Ardin knew she had only to say the word and he'd leave, but she was moved by the anguish in his eyes.
"Let's sit down." She gestured to her mother's ancient dinette set next to the galley-style kitchen.
Their fingers touched as he moved past her, causing her heart to thump inside her chest. From his startled expression, she knew he'd felt the jolt of electricity as well. He turned his head to conceal his embarrassment. And no wonder, she told herself. His wife had been buried twelve hours ago.
"This set's as old as I am," she said to fill the growing silence. "It goes in the trash when I leave."
Brett smiled as he gazed down at the worn Formica. "I remember eating dinner on this table, just before we moved to Florida. Your mom made spaghetti and meatballs because that was my favorite meal."
"You remember all that?" Ardin felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she recalled ten-year-old Brett kissing her good-bye. On the lips. As an eight-year-old, she thought this meant they were in love and would marry when they grew up.
"I remember." Brett folded his lean, muscular body into the chair her mother had always favored. "When are you leaving Thornedale?"
"Friday, now that my mother and the assisted-living residence have adjusted to one another."
"It must have been hard for Vera to give up her apartment and her freedom."
"Oh, it was." Ardin sighed. "But my mother can hardly walk, and her disability benefits cover her room and board in the residence. Staying here, she'd require a full-time aide, which she can't afford. And she refuses to let me help."
She stopped, aware that she was babbling. But then Brett was one of those rare beings, a male who knew how to listen. She suddenly recalled her manners. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. I've had enough to sink a battleship."
Where was that? Ardin wondered as she sank into a chair. After the funeral, Brett had stopped by Aunt Julia's to pick up Leonie. The little girl had stayed at her grandmother's in the care of a babysitter while her mother was being buried. When Aunt Julia told him Leonie would remain with her, Brett had stormed out of the house.
Now he looked totally spent, as if he'd exhausted the last of his resources. When he caught her studying him, he pulled himself upright and leaned toward her, gripping the edges of the scarred table.
"In case you're worrying, let me put your mind at rest. I didn't kill Suziette."
Ardin nodded, but her gaze fell on Brett's broad shoulders and muscular arms. Here was a man who'd worked on construction crews every summer through high school and college, and, even now, labored beside his men when they ran behind schedule. She suddenly remembered the black and blue marks on Suziette's arms, marks Suziette had refused to explain.
Ten days later Suziette was dead, strangled with her own Hermès scarf.
Ardin shook her head to clear it of fanciful speculations. Despite Brett's powerful physique, he couldn't have killed Suziette. Sure, he was big and strong, but he was a gentle soul. Always had been. When they were kids, he never pulled her hair or twisted her arm like the other boys. More recently, Ardin had seen him with little Leonie--wiping her face, listening to her tales of nursery school. And Leonie wasn't even his daughter.
Now he was saying, "I must talk to you about Leonie. I can understand Julia's wanting to keep her for a few days, but then I want her home with me. Leonie needs me. We need each other."
"Aunt Julia--"
"I've been away a lot lately, I know, but from now on I plan to stay right here in Thornedale. My brother will see to our business in Florida. I'll hire a woman to look after Leonie while I'm working. And, of course, she's free to visit her grandmother any time."
Ardin's anxiety rose with every word he uttered. She had to set him straight. She held up a hand to stop his flow of words. "Brett, Leonie's staying with Aunt Julia because she's her legal guardian."
He sprang to his feet. Ardin flinched and tried not to stare at the hand only inches from her cheek. That hand could lunge out and grab her by the throat. Or shake her until the breath had left her body. Stop it! This is Brett, not Corey.
"I can't believe that," he said
flatly. "I was in the process of adopting Leonie."
Ardin nodded. "I know, but speaking as an attorney, if the process wasn't completed at the time of Suziette's death, then her will takes precedence, once it's filed with the Surrogate Court."
Brett frowned. "Will? What will?" He clenched his hands into fists.
So close. Too close. Ardin pushed through her fear and went to the sink, where she poured herself a glass of water.
"Suziette had Bill Presley draw up a will three weeks ago. She named her mother as Leonie's guardian and me as successor guardian. She told me you knew what she was doing and you understood."
"Understood?" His rage filled the apartment. "I knew nothing about this! Your cousin pulled all kinds of stunts during our eight months of marriage, but this is the most despicable of all!"
Ardin's temples began to throb. Damn Suziette and her lies. "Brett, stop shouting. I'm telling you what I know."
"Sorry. I don't mean to take it out on you. Sure, we were sniping at each other the last few months, but that was because of all the time I spent away." His hand flew to his heart. "I love Leonie as though she were my own child. Suziette knows that. Knew that." He spoke the last words softly.
"You've been wonderful to Leonie. You're the only father she's ever known."
Brett's fist slammed down on the table. "Exactly! Then tell me, Ardin, who is her biological father?"
Ardin shook her head. "I've no idea. Aunt Julia doesn't even know."
"I asked often enough, but Suziette wouldn't say." Brett started to pace. "She'd laugh, insist it wasn't important. We were to consider Leonie a gift from God. Except the adoption was held up by that missing piece of information."
A shiver ran down Ardin's spine. Pacing was a bad sign. Her palms turned damp with sweat at the sight of his clenched jaw. She sensed the anger coursing through his well-muscled body. Soon his eyes would find her, his fists would seek her soft spots--
"Hey, are you okay?" He halted his pacing to study her.
"Of course. Sure. I'm just tired."
Get a grip! You've just delivered a pile of bad news, and he's venting.
Brett moved closer. "You're beat and upset, and I'm making it worse. Let me give you a massage."
"What?"
"A massage." A smile wreathed his face, the first since he'd arrived. "I'm pretty good at it, and it'll make you feel better, I swear."
"Well--"
"Come on, Ardie. It'll work wonders."
It was the use of her old nickname that did it. She exhaled, her apprehension vanishing like air escaping from a balloon. "All right."
Brett positioned himself behind her chair and began kneading her shoulders. "You are tense."
Ardin nodded as his knowing fingers pressed and rubbed deep into her muscles. "Ah." She closed her eyes, relishing the release of tension as the hypnotic kneading melted away her stress. Relaxed now, she became aware of his closeness, of the way his breath puffed gently against her neck. A tingling sensation rushed through her body for the first time in ages. She shuddered as his hands moved down her back.
And then it was over. "Feel better?"
She nodded, ashamed of what she was beginning to imagine. Brett was her cousin's widower. A man in distress. Not some unattached male interested in her.
He took his seat and said, "About Leonie's father... Any ideas who he is?"
"I always thought Suziette was sworn to secrecy. The man's undoubtedly married and didn't want a scandal."
"I'm sure he paid her a pretty penny to keep her mouth shut," Brett said. "She knew how to make the most of her indiscretions."
Ardin read the hurt and disillusionment in his eyes.
"Oh, yes," he said, "I know all about Suziette's escapades now. Too bad I didn't listen to my brother, Rob, and have a detective check her out."
"A detective?" Ardin said, surprised. "Suziette was always a bit wild, but except for not naming Leonie's father, she had no deep, dark secrets."
"Wild!" Brett shook his head in disbelief. "Promiscuous is the word you want. And it didn't stop when she married me."
So he knew about Corey. "I'm sorry, Brett. My ex-husband is despicable."
"It doesn't matter, really it doesn't. I mean, I'm sorry someone murdered Suziette, but I may as well tell you. Our marriage was a mistake. We had nothing in common. We never functioned as a couple. All we shared was a new house--and Leonie. I tried to talk to Suziette about a divorce."
"You did?"
Unbidden joy rose in Ardin's breast and she did her utmost to squelch it. Regardless of his marital unhappiness, Brett was mourning the sudden death of his wife. Besides, while she'd always found him a kind, even compassionate, man, her abusive marriage had left her mistrustful of men and convinced she was better off avoiding romantic entanglements.
"About ten days ago I finally admitted to myself my marriage was over," Brett was saying. "I'd stayed all these months because of Leonie, but I was losing hope of ever adopting her." He gave a rueful little laugh. "I tried to get Suziette to sit down and talk about our separating, but she was too restless, too lit up to concentrate. Her mind was on something else. Or someone else--your ex-husband."
"Bad taste and plain stupidity. Especially when she had you at home."
Now why did she have to say a dumb thing like that? Ardin opened the refrigerator door and stuck her head inside so Brett couldn't see her red ears.
When she turned around, he was smiling. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ardin. It makes it easier to ask for your help."
Ardin looked at him warily. "To do what exactly?"
"Help me gain custody of Leonie. You're a lawyer. You can make the court see reason. I'm the only father Leonie knows. We belong together."
She sympathized with his sentiments, but her legal training took over and urged her to lay out the facts.
"Brett, I know how much you love Leonie, but you'd be disputing a mother's will. The fact that you brought up the subject of divorce may be the reason Suziette named Aunt Julia her guardian and not you."
"I tried to discuss a separation ten days ago. You're telling me she made out this will before then? And why did she suddenly feel she had to make out a will? Had someone threatened her?"
"I've wondered about that, too," Ardin said. "But maybe it was nothing more ominous than Suziette's sensing your marriage was ending and she wanted to make sure Leonie was raised by a blood relation if anything should happen to her."
Brett opened his mouth to argue, but Ardin moved on. "The bottom line is Suziette's gone and her wishes are to be respected." She considered her aunt's fragile state of mind. "Please don't go upsetting Aunt Julia about this. It might bring on another coronary. As it is, she's beside herself with grief. She's lost her only daughter."
His green eyes glittered like emeralds. "The same daughter who chased after every man in town and left Leonie with anyone willing to babysit."
Brett was wounded, but he'd spoken the truth. Still, Ardin's first concern was her little cousin's welfare.
"I think it's best that Leonie stay with Aunt Julia, at least for the present. She needs a woman to look after her. Only a woman can help Leonie understand her mother's gone, and give her--"
Ardin stopped in mid-sentence, aware that the stupidest, most sexist comment had just slipped past her lips.
Brett stared at her in mock dismay. "How insensitive of me. Leonie needs a woman's care. A man can't understand her pain and loss."
"No! What I meant was--"
"Your message comes through loud and clear. Men are brutes, programmed to make money and hit on women."
Ardin watched him stride to the door, too flustered to dispute his wild exaggerations. He turned the handle and paused to glare at her.
"I made a mistake coming here. You're as blind to what's best for Leonie as your Aunt Julia!"
With that, he slammed the door behind him, and went out into the night.
* * * *
Brett jumped into his red Jeep C
herokee and tore down Tara Boulevard. He cursed himself roundly for the mess he'd made of things. It had taken him two hours to work up the nerve to ask Ardin to help him with Leonie's adoption and less than ten minutes to make matters worse than they were before.
But things were worse than before. Suziette, devious as ever, had named her mother as Leonie's guardian. And she'd done it out of spite.
He drove through town, past the stores and boutiques closed until morning. On his first trip back to Thornedale--newly engaged and totally captivated by his dazzling Suziette--he'd hardly recognized the sleepy village where he'd lived the first ten years of his life. Thornedale had developed into an upscale suburban town, with good schools, a flurry of five-star restaurants, and its share of cultural events. It was the perfect location for the northern office of Waterstone Construction.
Brett passed the nearly completed strip mall without casting a glance at his pride and joy. What did it matter how many malls he and Rob built, now that his personal life was in shambles? He had no wife, no daughter. He'd never felt so alone.
He crossed the bridge spanning the river, and turned onto the road leading to the brand new colonial house in Rolling Hills he and Suziette had moved into a few months ago. Suziette! Despite the heartache she'd caused him, the memory of his beautiful dead wife filled him with sadness and regret.
They'd met sixteen months ago, right after he and Rob had completed their biggest project to date in Boca Raton. Thoroughly exhausted, he'd driven to Key West for a few days of R and R. He'd slept the first day away and came down to the bar as the sun was about to set. He took a healthy swig of his martini and found himself staring at the sexiest, most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
"Hello, there!"
The warmth of her greeting had implied they knew each other and had arranged to meet. It was kismet, Brett had decided. His reward for hard work and clean living. He couldn't remember when last he'd been beguiled by such a gorgeous creature of the female gender, and he'd made no attempt to hide his awe.
"What are you drinking?"
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