Dangerous Relations

by Marilyn Levinson

  Mrs. Katz sighed. "Such a terrible thing to happen to a beautiful young girl." She withdrew and closed the door.

  Her sympathy seemed to bolster Ardin's spirits. She drew herself up. "Come inside. I don't feel like putting on a show for the neighbors." When Brett hesitated, she said, "You, too."

  Detective Rabe started to object.

  She cut him short. "He stays or you leave."

  He shrugged and reentered the apartment. Brett smiled as she directed them into the unfurnished living room. Smart girl. Keep them standing. Detective Rabe and Officer Devine positioned themselves on either side of the window, Ardin perched on her father's old desk, and Brett leaned against the inside wall. All the players in place.

  "You wanted to ask me some questions related to my cousin's murder, Detective Rabe?"

  Brett marveled at her poise.

  The detective nodded. "What do you know about any relationships Mrs. Waterstone might have had with--" He glanced at Brett, "-- men other than her husband?"

  "I've heard of two," she answered coolly, "neither of which I can substantiate."

  "Their names, please?" the young officer said.

  "Corey MacAllister, my ex-husband, and Dimitri. I don't know his last name, only that he was Suziette's personal trainer at her gym."

  Her personal trainer! Rage flared up like brush fire in his chest. He hadn't felt such anger since he was a kid. Then he caught Ardin's wink. It sustained him, made him feel they were a team. He unclenched his fists and exhaled slowly.

  He had to stay cool and collected. The cops had come for information, and anything that rose to the surface about his betraying, two-timing wife was bound to be another thrust of the knife.

  The questions continued. Did Ardin know why anyone would want to hurt her cousin? Had anyone ever threatened Suziette, even in jest?

  "How long have you known Mr. Waterstone?" Officer Devine asked Ardin.

  Brett watched her stiffen. "We knew each other when we were kids. Brett moved away when I was eight and he was ten. The next time I saw him was the weekend he married my cousin."

  "Are you close friends?" Rabe said.

  Ardin shrugged. "Hardly. We've met perhaps half a dozen times the entire month I've been in Thornedale."

  Brett released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

  "Then why the flowers?"

  "Mr. Waterstone wants to adopt my cousin's little girl. They're devoted to each other. He was understandably upset when I told him my cousin left a will in which she named her mother Leonie's guardian and myself as successor guardian."

  "I see," the detective said, clearly disappointed. But then his beady eyes fixed on Brett. "You said he was upset?"

  "Yes." Ardin hugged herself.

  The detective noticed. "Did Mr. Waterstone strike you?"

  Ardin glared. "Certainly not!" Before either policemen could comment, she went on, an edge to her voice. "I'm afraid that's all I have to say and all the time I have to answer questions."

  Officer Devine closed his notebook and followed Detective Rabe to the door.

  The detective handed Ardin a card. "Ms. Wesley, Mr. Waterstone, if you think of anything, anything, that might be relevant to the murder, call immediately." His expression was aggrieved as he looked from Ardin to Brett. "Remember, we're here to find out who killed Mrs. Waterstone and to bring the murderer to justice."

  "Our sentiments exactly, Detective Rabe," Ardin agreed. She slammed the door behind them, barely missing the detective's heel.

  Brett stifled the urge to throw his arms around her. Instead, he shot her a victorious grin.

  "You were brilliant, Ms. Wesley! Remind me to call on you when I need an attorney."

  She beamed back at him, happy that he'd come. He looked ruggedly handsome in his jeans, denim shirt, and work boots. And he'd shown up just in time. Not to save her, as if she were a faint-hearted Victorian heroine, but to remind her that no man--be he policeman or president of the United States--could intimidate her ever again.

  "That detective needs lessons in communication skills," she said. "He treats us like suspects, and then complains we're not being more helpful."

  Brett winced. "Don't I know it. He and his partner drilled away at me the other night till I started believing I'd done something wrong."

  "What made them finally let up?" she said, curious.

  "The coroner called in the estimated time of death. They had a statement from the cabby who brought me home from the airport. He'd dropped me off almost an hour past their outside time."

  A pile of bricks seemed to slide from her shoulders. Though she believed in her heart that Brett was innocent, she welcomed this piece of indisputable hard evidence.

  "Saved by the taxi driver's time sheet."

  "Lucky me." Brett tried for humor, but his resentment came through loud and clear. The telltale blush burned his cheeks, and she knew he was embarrassed that she might think less of him for wallowing in self-pity.

  Ardin gave him a friendly pat. The pulsing vitality of his well-muscled arm sent a thrill through her body, and she jerked her hand away. "You're entitled to feel bitter and disgruntled after all you've been through."

  "Thanks. But you still haven't told me if you'll have dinner with me tonight."

  His teasing tone sent her heart soaring, until she remembered he was inviting her out to talk about Leonie. She tried to sound casual. "Sure. That would be nice."

  "And I've great news. I'm picking up Leonie from nursery school tomorrow, and she's staying overnight."

  "Really? Aunt Julia didn't mention it."

  Brett laughed. "Believe me, it wasn't her idea. Leonie answered the phone when I called to see if you were there. The little devil carried on until Julia promised she could come home, at least for one night."

  Ardin felt a pang of envy. No child would ever love her the way Leonie loved Brett. "She misses you," she admitted.

  "Did she tell you that?" Brett's face took on a tender expression.

  "Uh huh."

  "Does that mean you'll help me adopt her?"

  Ardin bit her lip. She didn't know what kept her from agreeing to do what little she could. Certainly, Brett cared for Leonie as if she were his own. Aunt Julia was in no position to raise a child. She remembered Leonie's asking if she'd be her mommy, and then she knew exactly what was holding her back.

  She wanted to raise Leonie herself. Silly. She shook her head to get rid of the preposterous idea.

  Her voice was steady, her logic airtight, when she answered. "Brett, you know I can't help you. I'm Leonie's successor guardian. It would be a conflict of interest."

  His shoulders slumped with disappointment. She was unprepared for the pain that pierced her heart. She wanted to adopt Leonie, but at the same time she couldn't bear to see Brett stripped of hope.

  "Of course there's nothing to stop you from contesting the will. I can't imagine what was going through Suziette's head when she drew it up."

  His eyes lit up; a slow smile graced his lips. "Thanks, Ardin. It means a lot to hear you say out loud what I've been thinking."

  He gave her a quick hug that ended before she realized she'd been in his arms. The moment of closeness left her feeling lightheaded and vulnerable. She wished he would hug her again. At the same time she wanted him to leave. "Let's talk about it over dinner."

  "Sure. Want to go to Houdini's? I haven't eaten there, but everyone says the food's terrific."

  "It's the best offer I've had all month."

  "That's settled then. Pick you up at seven-fifteen?"

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "You look elegant tonight," Brett said as they stepped into the elevator.

  "Why, thank you." His compliment and appreciative glance sent a delicious frisson of pleasure down her spine. Ardin smoothed the sleeve of the black jacket she wore over her new silk dress. She was glad she'd tossed both into her suitcase when Dr. Addison's middle-of-the-night call had sent her speeding to Thornedale.

  Br
ett's nearness upped the frisson to a powerful surge of electricity. He looked fantastic in his brown suede blazer, muted print shirt, and tan trousers. She breathed in his spicy aftershave. Without thinking, she said, "Mmmm, you smell nice."

  Brett smiled. "Happy to oblige."

  Whoa, girl. Calm down. She welcomed the brisk evening air, which dispelled the hothouse atmosphere of the elevator and restored her equanimity. They walked in companionable silence to the Jeep, and drove off in the direction of town.

  They'd only gone half a block, when Brett said, "Frank MacAllister tells me the restaurant's doing well. He's a part-owner, you know."

  "Frank's part-owner of lots of businesses in town. Not to mention all those development schemes he dreams up." Curious, she said, "Did he tell you about Houdini's at the funeral?"

  "No. Over a business dinner of sorts."

  "Oh?"

  Brett turned to catch her expression. "Does that mean you don't approve of Frank MacAllister?"

  She grimaced. "I'm rather annoyed with him at the moment, but I don't disapprove of him especially, except for having fathered Corey. Why?"

  "Just wondering." She waited as he seemed to debate whether or not to share what was on his mind, and felt a stab of pleasure when he continued.

  "He invited Rob and me to go into a deal building luxury condos, and now he's pressing for an answer. Frank said our company would be doing most of the construction. We stand to make a small fortune."

  "So? What's the catch?"

  Brett took a deep breath. "We'd have to put a hefty sum of money up front. It's a little unusual, but it's done. Frank strikes me as an all-right guy, and I haven't found anything against him in the county records. But I'm cautious when it comes to choosing business partners." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "Obviously, more so than in my personal life."

  Ardin ignored this last comment, and focused on Frank MacAllister. "Uncle Pete backed Frank's deals often enough, and he left Aunt Julia in good financial shape. Though my mother--"

  She stopped, drifting off in thought.

  "What about your mother?"

  "She claimed Daddy lost all our money because Frank urged him to go in over his head." She decided to be fair. "But I've no idea if that's true. Those days she was drinking nonstop."

  "I'll tuck it away for future reference. The way I do all hearsay and rumors." His green eyes flashed mischievously. "You'd be surprised how often they turn out to be true--and false. I'd say fifty-fifty."

  His laughter was infectious.

  The restaurant was three-quarters full. The ma�tre d' led them to a table near the diorama, which extended the length of the back wall. Ardin peered through the Plexiglas at the thirty-or-so figures frozen in action on a beach under a bright noonday sun. They were so lifelike.

  "Totally amazing!" she said as she sat down.

  Brett faced her across the table. "Frank says they plan to change the scene every six months. I guess this proves things happen outside of New York City."

  Ardin grinned. "Still, nothing comes close to the biggies--Broadway shows, the ballet, the two Mets--no, make that three Mets. Can't forget the baseball team."

  "Is that why you're in a hurry to go back?"

  "I can't stay here. Thornedale holds too many bad memories." The words came out with a force of their own.

  "Aside from your ex-husband?"

  "Oh, yes." She gnawed at her lip. "The disgrace of turning poor. Losing our house." She hesitated. "My father's so-called accident. Didn't Suziette tell you?"

  Brett shook his head.

  "I was the one who found him, face down in a pool of blood. He'd shot himself."

  "Poor Ardin."

  Now that she'd started, she couldn't stop. "I was fourteen. It went downhill from there. My mother drank more and more. Aunt Julia and Uncle Pete paid the rent for that dinky apartment we moved to. They saw to it I had a decent meal now and then."

  "I'm so sorry."

  She grimaced. "When I was eighteen, I thought my life had finally taken an upswing. Instead, it sank even lower. Into hell."

  "Corey MacAllister?"

  She nodded. "He was as considerate as a choir boy when we started going out. His consideration turned to protection about the time we married." She frowned. "Soon I needed protection from him, whenever he got into one of his furies. Let's see--three broken ribs, a dislocated wrist, two black eyes, and that time I lost consciousness when he nearly choked me to death." She watched the color rise in his face.

  "My God, Ardin! Why didn't you leave?"

  "Why didn't I leave?" she echoed. "And go where? Do what? I was so beaten down, literally and figuratively, I spent every waking minute trying to come up with ways to make our marriage better. Hah!" Her voice sounded harsh, even to herself. Self-mocking.

  "After he choked me, I realized things would never get better, only worse. So I left. Took a midnight bus from Thornedale to the city. A close friend who was going to Columbia put me up for a few days, till I could figure out what to do with my life."

  Brett stared at her in obvious shock. "Wasn't there anyone here you could turn to? What about your mother?"

  Ardin snorted. "She was drying out in the hospital the day of my wedding. Although she did warn me not to marry Corey. She said he has shifty eyes. I thought it was her grudge against Frank, but now I wonder."

  Brett reached across the table. His thumb caressed the back of her hand. She found the gesture soothing yet erotic. "You had a hard time of it, but you seem to have come out ahead."

  Ardin stiffened. He still didn't understand. "That's what Frank had the nerve to tell me this morning."

  She looked up, saw their waiter standing patiently beside their table. Now that he had their attention, he said, "Hello, my name is Tim. I'm your server tonight. Would you like to hear the specials?"

  They ordered the tuna steaks medium rare, Caesar salads, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Tim uncorked their wine with great aplomb and poured. Ardin reached for her glass and gulped half of it down. Not very refined, but for once in her life she wanted to feel tipsy enough to block out the memory of having exposed the sordid details of her life. Now Brett would see her as a pathetic weirdo from a dysfunctional family instead of a woman he could make love to.

  This last thought came as a bolt from the blue. Her hand jerked, and she nearly spilled what remained of her wine.

  Such a ridiculous idea. Brett had no designs on her. He was giving her the royal treatment in hopes that she would convince Aunt Julia to let him adopt Leonie. She had better keep her lusty urges to herself.

  Brett held up his glass. "To a happy future. For you, for me, and for Leonie."

  Flustered, Ardin added, "Here's to finding Suziette's murderer ASAP."

  "Definitely. Let's find Suziette's murderer, so we can get on with our lives."

  They clinked glasses. Ardin took a sip, and realized she liked what she was drinking. "Fine wine."

  "Good company." He winked.

  Relieved, she leaned back in her seat. Clearly, Brett hadn't been put off by her true confessions. Then it dawned on her. He hadn't been put off because he wasn't romantically interested. Stay in reality, she advised herself. It's all you have. All you can count on.

  He was a sympathetic person, and he liked her as a friend. Yes, he liked her as a friend, and she'd have to be content with that.

  "Earth to Ardin."

  She gave a start. "Sorry."

  "I spoke to Bill Presley today. He said Suziette's will will be probated early next week."

  "Ten days after the date of death," Ardin said mechanically.

  Brett nodded. "I like Bill. When I said I planned to go ahead with the custody suit, he wished me luck."

  "He's great. We were friends back in high school."

  "Did you two date?"

  "Never. But he and Suziette had a bit of a thing back then." She wanted to call back her words as soon as they left her mouth.

  Brett gripped his fork in his fist. "So Bi
ll's one of Suziette's ex-lovers."

  "That was years ago." Ardin waved her hand dismissively. "Besides, his wife is drop-dead gorgeous. You know Vivie. My mother calls her the red-headed Nicole Kidman."

  "I'm glad you can vouch for someone who wasn't fooling around with Suziette before she died."

  Ardin reached out and touched his cheek. It felt surprisingly soft, like the skin of a child. "Brett, I know she's hurt you, but don't give her the power to turn you into a bitter man."

  He gave her a thoughtful look. "You're right. I've too much in the works to let that happen." He set down his fork, now bent and misshapen, and beckoned the waiter to bring him another.

  Enough talk about Suziette, Ardin decided as their salads arrived. She asked how the new strip mall was coming along, and Brett answered in detail. She was glad his natural enthusiasm had returned, the tension had eased from his face. They chatted with the ease of old friends, tacitly avoiding painful and provocative subjects.

  Half-intoxicated and secure in the knowledge that Brett didn't think of her that way, she allowed herself to bask in the glowing heat of his masculinity. They laughed and bantered across the table. Once, in the flickering candlelight, she caught him smiling at her with loving tenderness. A quiet joy filled her heart. She quickly reminded herself it was his affectionate nature responding to the pleasure of the moment.

  They ordered dessert and coffee. Ardin lounged back in her chair, taking delight in the changing expressions on Brett's face as he related an amusing childhood story.

  Suddenly he stopped. His eyes cut across the room to whatever it was that had caught his attention.

  "What's wrong?"

  His voice turned flat. "Corey MacAllister just came in."

  "With Tiffany?"

  When he didn't answer, she turned to watch the ma�tre d' usher Corey and his wife, a stunning, petite blonde, to their table.

  The sight of him made her breath quicken. She forced herself to relax. Corey can't hurt you. He won't hurt you. She repeated the mantra while she ransacked her mind for something ordinary to say. "That's Tiffany. Frank said they were back together again."