by Gina Conroy
“Forgive me for not standing, my dear. My legs don’t work quite as well as I’d like.” It was obvious the old gentleman was of a different era. Even his speech spoke of elegance and courtesy. He motioned to a sofa across from him. “Please sit.”
She sat. “Senator, I appreciate your invitation, but I’m confused about the reason. We’ve never even met, have we?”
He gave her a fond smile. “Perhaps a time or two when you visited Albert’s daughter. But you were very young. You wouldn’t remember.”
“Oh. But I still don’t understand.”
He coughed, holding a white handkerchief to his mouth. When the coughing spell was over, he caught his breath. “I merely wanted to talk about your uncle. I miss him. We were good friends for many years.”
Susan looked at him in surprise. As far as she knew, there had been no close friendship between Uncle Albert and the senator. Maybe the old man was senile and imagined a friendship that hadn’t existed. Still, she and Uncle Albert had been close but not that close. He probably had friends she knew nothing about.
“I miss Uncle Albert, too, sir.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you do. And he must have been very fond of you. After all, you are his only heir. He left everything to you, didn’t he?”
His eyes had narrowed. A twinge of discomfort tugged at her. Should she respond to that? She sighed. What did it matter? “Yes, sir. He did.”
“Going through his personal things must be difficult. Have you begun that unpleasant task yet?”
“A little. I’ve been very busy at my shop. I’m not sure when I’ll get around to his condo. Although I’ll have to before I can sell or lease it.”
“Hmm. What about his files? That must be a daunting chore.” His eyes gleamed with an alertness Susan hadn’t noticed before.
Unease stabbed her mind. Why was he grilling her? It was apparent he was trying to find out something without actually asking straight-out. But why?
“I believe his attorney has stored Uncle Albert’s files in a safe place until I can go through them.”
A frown crossed his face. “I see. Well, I would be more than happy to take care of that for you with the help of my assistants. After all, I’d be more likely to know what needs to be done with certain things.”
“That’s very kind of you, Senator. I’ll let you know.” She rose. “I hope you won’t think me rude, but I need to go. Coffee and pastry shops open early.”
“All right. The valet will bring your car around.” He pushed a button and the door opened, revealing the man who’d escorted her to the room.
All the way home, she ran the short conversation over in her head. It had seemed more like she was being probed for information than a casual meeting. And she’d begun to rethink her first impression of the senator as a kind old gentleman. He’d wanted something from her. But what?
Maybe she was being paranoid. After the accidents and the unexplainable attempts to buy the run-down mansion, she was suspicious of anything out of the ordinary. And this evening was most definitely out of the ordinary.
She glanced at the clock on her dash. Eleven thirty. Was it too late to call Vince? Probably. After all, he was an early riser, too. Maybe when the rush was over in the morning, she’d head over to Falls Church.
Chapter 8
The door shouldn’t be open,” Vince said over his shoulder to Carl. “Mary’s on her way to open up for us.”
He pushed the heavy oak door the rest of the way open.
“I’ve got your back.” Carl’s voice was low and deadly calm.
“Thanks.” He motioned for his three laborers to stay on the porch and stepped inside with Carl close beside him.
He stopped just inside, drawing in a breath then letting it out with a whoosh.
“Stinking vandals!” Carl growled.
Wallpaper hung from the walls in shreds. In the kitchen, cupboards were flung open and drawers lay in pieces on the kitchen floor. One cabinet had been completely ripped out.
“I don’t think so.” Vince’s eyes narrowed and his lips were set in a grim line. “Looks to me as though someone was looking for something and didn’t care what they destroyed in doing it.”
“Mercy! What happened here?” Mary’s voice rang out. Vince went to meet her in the foyer.
“It appears someone went on a very destructive hunt for something.” He peered at her. “The door was open when we got here, but it seems whoever did this is long gone. You didn’t see or hear anything during the night?”
“No! Don’t you think I’d have called the police and Miss Holland?” The frown she threw his way was indignant to say the least.
“Of course you would’ve. Sorry, Mary.” He sighed. “Well, guess we’d better check the damage upstairs.”
“What do you want me to do about the crew?” Carl asked.
Vince stood for a moment in thought. “We can’t touch anything until Miss Holland gets here and the police check the place out. Tell the men they can go home or head over to the Jenkins place to help Eddie and Frank. Give them their choice.”
While Carl headed out to talk to the crew, Vince followed Mary up the staircase. This had been her domain for twenty years. He wasn’t about to usurp her authority.
The second and third floors showed more of the same devastation. He left Mary on the third floor and took the back stairs up to the attic. Thankfully there wasn’t a lot up there to tear into. The few boxes that were there had been dumped and the contents scattered.
Vince pulled out his cell phone as he walked downstairs. Dreading the task of telling Susan the bad news, he punched in her cell phone number. It rang several times before she answered.
“Hello.” She sounded rushed.
“Hi, Susan, did I catch you at a bad time?” He groaned. It would be a really bad time once he told her.
“Rush is just about over, Vince,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“Can you get away for a while?”
“Sure, I planned to come over anyway. I think you’d like to hear about my dinner at the senator’s house.”
“Sure I would. But I have some bad news for you.” He sighed. Hadn’t she been through enough lately?
“What is it? Has something happened at the house?” Her voice had gone up a notch.
“Someone broke in and tore the place up pretty bad.”
Her sharp intake of breath was followed by a groan. “I’ll be right there.”
“I think you should call the police, Susan.”
“I will. But I want to see the place first. Be there as quick as I can get there.”
Carl left to join the other crew.
“This is a sad day, Mary,” Vince said as they stood waiting on the porch.
“Yes, but it could have been a lot worse.” Mary almost wailed. “When I think about suggesting she move all that furniture up to the attic instead of storing it… It’d probably all be ruined if she had.”
“I’d say you’re right about that.”
“Well, I’d best get my roast in the oven. Tell Miss Holland to call me if she needs me for anything. And tell her as soon as the police are finished here, I’ll start cleaning things up.”
“I think we’ll probably need a cleaning crew, Mary. But I’ll tell her what you said.”
“No cleaning crew can do any better than me. I’ve been cleaning all my life.” She frowned.
“I know, I know. And once the renovations are done, there’ll be plenty for you to do. But it would be faster to hire a firm for this job. Then I can get to work on turning this old place into the best B and B Miss Holland has ever seen.”
“You kind of like her, don’t you?” She grinned and her bottom denture plate rocked in her mouth. She waved and stepped off the porch.
Vince laughed. “How’d you guess?” he called after her. “I like her a lot.”
A half hour later, he opened Susan’s car door and walked inside with her.
As she walked through the first floo
r, her face scrunched up and then tears started rolling down her cheeks.
“Aw, sweetheart.” Without even thinking, Vince put his arms around her and pulled her close, patting her on the back. He let her cry until the sobs turned to sniffles.
She drew in a sobbing breath and shook her head, looking up at him with tear-soaked brown eyes.
“Sorry, Vince. I’m afraid your shirt is soaked.”
“Hey, it’ll dry.” He looked at her closely. “Are you okay now?”
“Yeah, I think so. Do I need to go upstairs?”
“It’s just more of the same. Mary and I walked through. There’s nothing that can’t be repaired, but it’ll be expensive and it’s going to take some time.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t you think you should call the police now?”
“No. I don’t want to endure that again,” she said. “What could they do anyway? You know very well whoever did this wore gloves. There won’t be a print anywhere.”
“There might be. You need to think about this.”
She took a deep breath. “Of course, you’re right.” She lifted her eyes to him. “Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder.”
“My shoulder is privileged.” He smiled then took her hand. “I’ll tell you what. Since I’m the one who found this mess, you go back to the shop and let me deal with the police. If they want to talk to you, they can come to the shop later. After they’re finished here, I’ll get a cleaning crew over and we’ll get busy. But Susan, whoever did this is determined to find whatever they’re looking for. They might not stop with destroying property. Please be careful.”
Susan finished filling out her order form and placed it underneath the counter for tomorrow. She glanced at the clock. Seven o’clock already. She stood and stretched, trying to work the ache out of her shoulder muscles. She grabbed her sweater and handbag and headed for the parking lot.
When the car didn’t immediately start, she reinserted the key and tried again. Nothing. “Come on now, baby. Don’t do this to me.”
She tried again, but not a sound indicated the motor was cooperating. She sighed and opened the door. Ordinarily, she enjoyed the mile walk from her apartment to the shop, but as tired as she was, the uphill walk was nothing to look forward to. She supposed she could call a cab. She stood beside her car for a minute then shook her head. She could probably be home before a cab would arrive.
She grabbed her handbag, walked to the corner, then started up the hill toward Shirlington. Cherry Blossom Estates was at the top of the hill. Headlights came toward her then whizzed past her on down the hill. Lighted windows announced life going on in the houses lining both sides of the street.
She could hear a car coming up behind her, so she moved over to give the driver plenty of room in case he didn’t see her. The car sailed past. She should have grabbed her flashlight from the glove compartment. Oh well, not much farther to go.
Suddenly a motor revved behind her and she jumped to the side. The auto turned into a driveway and pulled back out, then headed straight for her. She dodged aside in the nick of time, but tripped and fell. Her ankle screamed in pain. The car sped away.
Susan sat dazed. Did someone actually try to run her over, or had they lost control of their car?
A door flew open in the nearest house and a woman ran out and knelt beside her. “Are you okay? I saw the whole thing. Sorry it took me so long, but I had to call my son inside to watch the younger children. He’s calling the police.”
Susan shook her head in an attempt to clear away the fog. “Do you think they lost control of their car?”
“No way. He tried to hit you from behind, and when that didn’t work he turned around and came at you from the front. It was deliberate, okay. Do you have enemies, lady?”
“None that I know of.” She tried to stand, then fell back down, her ankle throbbing.
“Here, let me help you to my porch before that nut comes back for another try. My name’s Betty.”
With help from the Good Samaritan, Susan managed to hobble over to the porch and sit on the step.
“Should I call an ambulance?” Betty eyed her with concern.
“No, I don’t think it’s sprained. I’ll put ice on it when I get home.” She dug into her purse and retrieved her cell phone. “I’d better call someone to come get me. I don’t think I can manage that hill now.”
Ten minutes later, Vince pulled up right behind the police car. He rushed over to her.
“Are you all right?” He stooped down next to her.
“I think so. I just twisted my ankle a little. My nerves are shot, though.” She held out her shaking hand. “See?”
The police came and took her statement and Betty’s.
Neither she nor Betty had gotten the license number or even a good look at the car. Susan was too busy trying to avoid being hit. They agreed it was black, and Betty thought it was a four-door.
When Betty ducked inside to check on her children and the dinner in the oven, Susan told the police about her fall down the stairs and the bullet that barely missed her. She also mentioned the break-in and vandalism of the mansion.
The police left with promises to let her know if they had any leads.
Vince bent over her. “Put your arm around my neck and I’ll carry you to the car.”
“No, no, I can walk. Just let me lean on you.”
“I’m sure you could if you had to, but why should you?” He reached down and swung her into his arms.
“Well, in that case, okay then.” She couldn’t prevent the giggle that escaped her lips. She leaned her head against his shoulder and let him carry her to his car. Betty rushed ahead and opened the door. Vince set Susan gently onto the seat and went around to the driver’s side.
He smiled at her as he started the car. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Should she be honest? “Actually, it was nice. I haven’t been carried since I stepped on a nail when I was seven. It’s a very comforting feeling. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Now let’s get you home and get ice on that ankle.”
By the time he left two hours later, Susan was stretched out on the sofa with her foot up and an ice pack in place. Vince had made omelets and toast for them both and they’d eaten in the living room. A half hour later, he brought her car, while his brother drove his. He’d discovered a detached battery cable. It was impossible to tell if it was deliberate, but Vince insisted she report it, so she did.
At least, finally, the police believed her about something. She went to bed, snuggled into her down comforter, and slept like a baby.
Chapter 9
Susan carried the last of the file boxes into her apartment. If Senator Noble was so interested in these files that he’d invite a perfect stranger to dinner simply to talk, there must be something important in them.
With an oomph, she dropped the box on the floor in front of the sofa with the other twenty. Her living room looked like a box factory.
Kicking her shoes off, she went to the kitchen, favoring her ankle. After two weeks she still got a twinge now and then. She poured a glass of iced tea, then returned to the living room. This was going to be quite a job. Especially since she had no idea what she was looking for.
Three hours later, she leaned back, discouragement ripping through her. She should have had the attorney go over these with her. Or even one of Uncle Albert’s business associates. Her stomach rumbled. No wonder. She’d forgotten to eat anything. She ambled into the kitchen, stretching her shoulders and neck as she went.
Carrying a plate with a chicken sandwich and a glass of milk, she headed for her bedroom, where she sank into her deep-cushioned armchair. The files could wait. She’d consult with the lawyer tomorrow. Surely he could recommend someone trustworthy with the knowledge to check those files.
Her meal finished, she took her dishes to the kitchen and went back to her room. She got ready for bed and crawled in between the cool sheets, looking forward to the soft downy covers. She reache
d to turn on her alarm, and her gaze rested on the little drummer bear that stood on her bedside table.
She smiled and picked him up. “Hi, Tailend. Do you miss your family?” She rubbed his furry back, her hand running across something bumpy. On closer examination, she found a line of stitches. Strange. She didn’t remember the little fellow ever being torn. Maybe it happened after her last visit. She shrugged and set him back on the table.
She turned off the lamp and yawned as she lay back on her thick pillows, stretching her legs as far as they’d go.
“Good night, Lord. Sorry I forgot to pray before I came to bed. I promise I’ll do better tomorrow.”
Her eyes closed and she began to drift. She gasped and sat up, wide awake, nearly knocking the lamp over as she turned it on. Grabbing the bear, she jumped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Now where had she put those little scissors?
She threw open her small pantry and lifted a shoe box down from the top shelf. She seldom sewed anything for the simple reason that she’d never learned how. But she kept it for last-minute button emergencies and so forth.
She picked up the bear, giving him a shake, then squeezing his furry body. She didn’t hear or feel anything. Maybe it was just her imagination. No, in the first place her imagination wasn’t that big, in spite of Officer Stanton’s judgment of her. She laid the bear facedown on the table and went to work on the stitches.
At first she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Determined to make sure, she began pulling stuffing out. She caught her breath as her fingers touched something that felt like paper. Withdrawing it, she held a folded paper square in her hand. Her fingers trembled as she opened it to reveal a single sheet.
The ink was a little faded, so with her heart thumping wildly, she carried it to the living room and sat on the sofa, turning on the reading lamp.