The man complied, and Lindsey felt Sully rouse. She glanced down to find him blinking and slowly shaking his head. He glanced at her and then gently reached up to feel the knot on the back of his head.
“Ouch,” he said.
“I’ll bet,” Lindsey said. “Let me see your eyes.”
Sully glanced up, and she checked his pupils to make sure they were even and not dilated, a sign of a concussion. They were good, and for a second she found herself getting lost in his brilliant baby blues.
“Well? How is he?” Kirkland asked.
“He’s okay,” Lindsey said. She glanced at the man standing with his hands on his head and frowned. “For now. We’ll have to keep an eye on him to make sure he stays that way.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” the man said to Sully. He looked pained, and his features were tight with contrition. “I thought you were looters, and I’m trying to protect my family’s home.”
“Your family? The only two people with a claim on this place are Stewart and Peter Rosen, and you are about forty-five years too young to be either of them,” Sully said. He started to rise, and Lindsey took his arm and helped him to his feet.
“My name is Steven Rosen-Grant. I’m their nephew,” the man said. He dropped his hands as if to reach for his wallet, but Kirkland gestured at him with the gun to keep his hands on his head.
Kirkland looked at Lindsey, and she turned to Sully. “Can you stand on your own?” He nodded, and she let go of his arm and stepped forward. Kirkland held the gun pointed at the man and said, “Turn around and keep your hands where I can see them or I will shoot you.”
The man did, and Lindsey took his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it to Kirkland.
“You can turn around now,” Kirkland said. He flipped the wallet open, and they all looked at the Illinois state driver’s license, which showed a picture of the man before them and the name Steven Rosen-Grant, just as he’d said.
“IDs can be faked,” Sully said. “And the name Rosen isn’t that unusual. We’ll need more than this for proof.”
“Agreed. What do you have there?” Kirkland gestured to the bag on the floor beside the man’s feet
The man shifted uncomfortably but kept his hands on his head. “I can explain.”
“Criminals always can,” Kirkland said.
“I’m not a criminal! My grandmother had an affair with Dr. Rosen and became pregnant with my mother, Gabrielle Rosen, but when he died, his miserable wife cut my grandmother off without a penny. Whatever I am taking, it is much less than my grandmother or my mother deserved,” the man said.
His hood had been pushed back when he put his hands on his head, and Lindsey could see that he looked to be in his mid to late thirties. His face was just beginning to show signs of middle age with a softening of the jawline and wrinkles at the corners of his brown eyes. He had precisely cut dark hair that framed his ears, which stuck out on the top just a little. Lindsey gasped. His ears were just like Stewart and Peter Rosen’s.
She shoved the thought away. Ears that stuck out were not proof of anything. She glanced at Sully and Kirkland. Their ears didn’t stick out. Still, it didn’t prove anything.
“Family or not, there is a proper way to go about claiming your inheritance, and robbing the place isn’t it,” Kirkland said.
“I wasn’t—” the man protested but then stopped. He glared at them and said, “Fine, whatever.”
Kirkland gestured for the man to turn around. “Let’s go. I’m taking you in.”
The man sent a panicked glance at the bag, and Lindsey got the feeling that there was something important to him in there.
“We should take the bag,” she said. “He must have left fingerprints on some of the things, which would verify his identity.”
“And prove that he was robbing the place,” Kirkland said. “Grab it, would you?”
Lindsey nodded.
“I wasn’t—” the man protested, but Kirkland cut him off.
“Save it for the chief,” he said.
Kirkland and their captive led the way out of the room. Lindsey took off her scarf and grabbed the duffel bag that had been on the ground. She knew that it was unlikely that fingerprints would be found on the fabric, but still, she didn’t want to risk damaging any evidence if this was indeed the man who had killed Peter Rosen.
The bag was heavier than she expected, and it slipped from her grip. She cried out as an item toppled out of its open zipper. Sully dropped to his knees and caught the loosely wrapped bundle before it smashed on the floor.
Lindsey dropped the bag and grabbed Sully as he listed to the side. She helped him stand, and he propped himself against the doorframe and smiled down at her.
“I’m okay, just a little dizzy,” he said. He held out the bundle to her, and Lindsey let the pale blue velvet fabric slide from the object in her hands.
It was a purple satin egg-shaped music box with gilt edges. The top was loose, and when it popped open, a waltz chimed while the tiny porcelain man and woman on the inside spun in a slow circle. Lindsey turned it to get a closer look at it, and a small key fell out into her hand. She held it up to examine it and saw that it had teeth on both sides. She frowned.
She glanced at Sully and saw Kirkland and Steven Rosen-Grant had stopped and turned back and were looking at the key as well.
“That’s a safe-deposit box key,” Kirkland said. “I take my grandmother to her box at the bank every now and then, and hers looks just like that one.”
He turned to look at his captive. “Did you know that was in there?”
Steven closed his mouth. “I refuse to talk without representation.”
“That can be arranged,” Kirkland said. “Pack it up, Lindsey. Let’s go.”
Lindsey closed the lid on the music box. The tune stopped playing. She wondered why it sounded so familiar, and she opened the lid again hoping to place the sound. The beginning was unfamiliar, but then she recognized it. It was the exact same tune Stewart Rosen had been humming when he had come to the library the other evening.
“How did you know to take this box?” she asked Steven. “Who told you about it? Have you seen Stewart? Have you talked to him?”
Steven looked nonplussed, but then he turned his head away from her with a snap. But not before she saw a telltale red flush creep into his cheeks. Whatever Steven Rosen-Grant was, he was not a very good liar.
She pocketed the key. She didn’t want to risk losing it. Then she rewrapped the music box and put it in the bag. This time she zipped it up before hefting it onto her shoulder.
She took Sully’s arm and led him down the stairs. If he didn’t really need her help, he didn’t say so. Lindsey figured it was probably because he didn’t want to offend her, but she was glad, because she was worried about him navigating the stairs with that huge knot on his head.
For that alone, she wanted to put a hurt on Steven, but when she added in the fright he had given her by chasing her through the house, and the fact that he clearly knew something about Stewart, well, it was a good thing Kirkland was escorting him down the stairs and not her. She might not have resisted the urge to take a shortcut, meaning a nice thump to the middle of Steven’s back to send him down the stairs more quickly.
When they got to the bottom of the steps, Kirkland cut across the foyer and stopped by the front door.
“Are you responsible for blocking it?” he asked.
Steven shrugged. “I thought you were burglars, and I didn’t want you to get away.”
“Hmm,” Kirkland said. “Well, now you can show us an alternate exit.”
“There’s a back door off of the kitchen,” Steven said.
They followed him through the house. A mudroom was tucked into the back of the kitchen, and it was here that Steven led them. When they got to the door, Sully made them stop while he checked the door and the steps for traps.
“I wouldn’t lead you into a trap,” Steven said.
Sully stared at him. “Th
e knot on my head tells me otherwise.”
“I said I was sorry,” Steven said. He sounded irritated. “What are you all doing here anyway?”
“Looking for my cart of books,” Lindsey said. “I brought a box full of books out here the day we discovered Peter’s . . . er . . . the day that Peter was killed, and I accidentally left it here.”
Steven glared at her. “Right.”
It was clear that he didn’t believe one word she said. Lindsey glared right back. After all, she was partly telling the truth, and at least she hadn’t clocked anyone on the head.
With a click, the latch on the back door was released and Kirkland pushed it open. Sully and Lindsey both tensed, as if waiting for another swinging board to greet them with some nails to the face, but there was nothing.
Lindsey felt the breath leave her lungs in a whoosh. Sully leaned down and kissed the top of her head. It was a gesture that reassured, but Lindsey was afraid he’d keel over, and she clutched his arm more tightly.
“I’m okay,” he said. “My head has the density of granite.”
She glanced up at him and smiled while checking his pupils at the same time. He chuckled, letting her know that he knew what she was doing.
They followed Kirkland and Steven around the side of the house, and Lindsey was relieved that they were on the familiar and trap-free path that led from the house to the dock below.
“So, did you want me to drive the boat?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “At least, not until we’re away from the island, and only if you want to, not because you have to do it for me.”
At the upper deck, Lindsey glanced back at the house. She wondered if she should have locked the back door. It seemed like it, but really, who was going to come out here, and if they did, they had to get past all of the refuse in the yard first.
“It’ll be okay,” Sully said.
“It just feels wrong,” she said.
“Everything about this feels wrong,” he agreed.
At the police station, Kirkland led Steven Rosen-Grant to an interview room in the back. Emma was moving around in a wheelchair with one leg elevated and jutting out like the prow of a ship. She took out two plastic chairs and the trash can as she made her way toward them across the main room.
“Damn it,” she said. “I need a cowcatcher or at least a chair catcher on the front of this thing. Are you two all right? Kirkland gave me the short version on the phone, but I’d like to hear what you two know.”
“It’s a long story,” Sully said. “You have any coffee made?”
“And a bag of ice,” Lindsey said and gestured to his head.
Emma’s eyebrows raised, and she turned to Molly Hatcher, her administrative assistant. “Are you free to handle that?”
“Giddy-up,” Molly said. She winked at Lindsey, who grinned in return. Molly had a thing for cowboys, and she was partial to Lori Wilde’s romance novels set in Texas. Lindsey knew without asking to put Molly’s name down as soon as the release dates were announced.
Molly rose from her desk at the front of the room, turned and headed toward the back of the station.
“Ice?” Emma asked.
“A precautionary measure only,” Sully said.
Lindsey took the opportunity to check his eyes again, but they were fine.
“You don’t feel woozy, do you?” she asked.
“No. Hungry? Yes. Woozy? No,” he said.
“Come on back, then,” Emma said. “Ian brought over a huge pot of clam chowder. I think it was out of pity for me in my wheelchair, but I’m not complaining if it gets me free chowder.”
They followed her down a narrow hallway. Although she rammed the side of the wall twice, Lindsey knew better than to offer to push Emma. Because Sully said nothing, she suspected he knew better, too.
“Did you have any luck finding your books?” Emma asked. She glanced over her shoulder at Lindsey as she turned her chair and wheeled into the station’s break room.
“Books?” Lindsey asked.
“Yeah, you know, the books you went out there to collect,” Emma said.
“Oh. No.” Lindsey shook her head. “No luck there.”
“But you managed to capture a man who was apparently robbing the Rosen house and says he’s a relative,” Emma said.
She gestured to a Crock-Pot of chowder, plugged in on the counter. There was a stack of thick cardboard bowls and plastic spoons beside it as well as a box of oyster crackers. Lindsey felt her stomach contract with anticipation.
Molly was just finishing up with the coffeepot, and she handed Sully a bag of ice as she passed them on her way out the door.
“Holler if you need anything else,” she said.
“Thanks, Molly,” Sully and Lindsey said together. Lindsey pushed Sully into a chair and put the bag of ice on the back of his head. He gave a tiny wince, but she didn’t know if it was from the pain of having his boo-boo touched or the chill of the ice. Either way, she didn’t remove the bag.
“I’m going to have a chat with our suspect,” Emma said. “You eat, and I’ll be back shortly.”
“I’m due back to the library,” Lindsey said.
“I’ll try to be quick,” Emma said. “If I’m not back here by the time you’re done eating, I’ll come to the library to see you later. Either way, you both need to eat something. You look like you’re going to drop.”
“I’m not arguing,” Sully said.
“Good. Then you won’t argue when the doctor stops by to examine that knot on your head. Also, we need you to file charges for assault.”
“Really? I’ve had worse bumps after a tense night at the bingo hall,” Sully said.
“Don’t get all macho,” Emma chided. “Your charge will give us leverage to hold Rosen-Grant. It’s for the greater good.”
“Fine, but no doctor,” he said.
“Sorry, that’s not negotiable,” she said. Emma looked at Lindsey. “Right?”
“Right,” Lindsey said. At his mutinous look, she said, “For me? So I don’t worry.”
“Fine, but if I’m playing the invalid, you have to have dinner with me so you can keep tabs on my health,” he said.
Emma laughed. “That’s our Sully. He never misses a trick. I’m actually less worried about you now.”
Sully looked hopeful, but she shut him down.
“No, you’re still getting checked out by a doctor.”
Sully frowned. Emma grinned at Lindsey before she wheeled out of the room. Lindsey dished two bowls of chowder for them and put one in front of Sully before taking the seat across from him.
“You’d better hurry,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be back or send Kirkland for it at any moment.”
“For what?” Lindsey asked. She tried to sound innocent, but she knew she had failed miserably when he narrowed his eyes at her.
“The safe-deposit box key in your pocket,” he said.
“Remembered that, did you?” she asked.
She took the key out of her pocket and pulled her cell phone out of her handbag. She held the key in her palm and took a quick picture of each side of it before returning her phone to her bag and the key to her pocket.
“What do you hope to gain by having a picture of it?” Sully asked. He dropped a fistful of oyster crackers onto his chowder.
“Nothing, really,” Lindsey said with a sigh. “I just thought if Stewart came by the library again, I could show him the picture and ask him about it.”
“Makes sense,” Sully said. “Assuming that he’s familiar with it, he might tell you which bank it comes from.”
Lindsey tucked into her soup. It was rich and creamy without being too thick; Mary and Ian made it the proper New England way with cream instead of flour. Her stomach was happy, but even more than that, she felt as if her insides were warm for the first time in hours.
“Do you think Stewart or Peter knew about Steven?” she asked.
Sully shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Stewart never mentioned
him.”
“Steven knew about them, though,” Lindsey said. “Obviously, his mother told him all about being a Rosen. He must have felt very bitter about being unacknowledged.”
“Which gives him a perfect motive for murder, doesn’t it?” Sully asked.
Lindsey swallowed a bite of potato, but it went down hard. Was Steven Rosen-Grant a murderer? Had he gotten to Stewart before they found him? No. Something didn’t sit right with that idea. She remembered when he had chased her in the house and had scared the snot out of her by grabbing her leg.
He had been chasing her because he thought she was a looter. Was that normal behavior for a person who didn’t care? Of course, he might have been trying to keep her from stealing things he wanted for himself, but she didn’t think so. When she took her own panic out of the equation, he had sounded upset by her presence in the house. More than upset, he had sounded protective.
“We didn’t find my books,” Lindsey said. Which, now that she thought about it, seemed sort of weird. Why would anyone touch a crate of library books when there was so much other stuff out there?
“No, we didn’t,” Sully agreed. “You know what else we didn’t find while we were out there?”
“Any sort of computer,” Lindsey said.
They exchanged a perplexed look, but before either of them could comment on the situation, there was a commotion at the door as Emma tried to wheel herself in and crashed against the doorjamb. She backed out and tried again two more times before finally entering the room without mishap.
“That was fast,” Sully said, clearly not referring to her entrance.
“He’s lawyered up,” Emma said.
She glanced up at the Crock-Pot, and Lindsey hopped up from her chair and went to fill a bowl for the chief. Emma looked comically grateful when Lindsey set it down in front of her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I wasn’t really sure how to tackle the Crock-Pot from down here. I’m sure getting a whole new perspective on our citizens who live life from a rolling chair.”
Lindsey knew it was coming, so she decided a preemptive strike was best. She reached into her pocket and took out the key. She laid it down on the table and pushed it toward Emma.
A Likely Story Page 19