“Flynn,” Barbara Jean protested, “is it really time to start up a relationship with both of us in trouble now? We have to stick together, especially if she’s going to tell the police we plotted together to kill Wesley.”
“Be quiet, BJ.” He said the words without heat, but they managed to snap the woman’s lips together. Flynn kept his gaze on Annie. “I’m going to tell you everything that happened that night, Annie, because I trust you. I’m hoping you can trust me a little longer until I can figure this mess out or get the evidence I need.”
Annie’s stubborn nature rose. “Why don’t we all call the sheriff, and we can hand over the bag together?”
“Because my fingerprints are on the bag. I didn’t look inside, but I’m willing to bet they’re miraculously on the bottle, too. I’m not stupid enough to let that happen if I was to try to commit a murder. I’m a trained private investigator.”
“I remember,” Annie muttered.
“Now, you understand the murderer came by to get the case closed by killing you or at least attempting to and pinning me with it.”
“What about Barbara Jean?”
“They’ve already taken the license. She has no leg to stand on. Free or incarcerated, she’s out of the way because she won’t have me to help her. You’re different, Annie.”
“How so?”
He strode over to her and stopped just inches away. She swallowed while gazing into those melting caramel eyes. Flynn touched her cheek, and she wasn’t too afraid.
“You can solve this case alone, but I’m not going to let you risk your life.”
“Flynn!” Barbara Jean jumped to her feet. “You’re making it sound like I’m too stupid to figure it out, but she’s not.”
Annie burst out laughing. Another point for her. Barbara Jean straightened and pursed her lips. Flynn met Annie’s gaze, and she saw amusement in his eyes. Did he love Barbara Jean as much as everyone kept saying? His actions confused her, but Flynn was also a nice guy. She couldn’t imagine him not doing all he could to help someone in need.
“You’re expecting her to stay here, too?” Annie asked in a low tone.
“Please? Maybe for a day. I will crack heads if I have to. I’ll find out who’s done this. Meanwhile, you can stay close to me so I can keep you safe.”
“No.” Annie shook her head. “I have a full schedule, and I won’t follow you around.”
“Your ankle needs rest,” he reasoned. “If you stay inside, Shadow can look after you while I’m gone.”
“So I should be a prisoner in my own home?”
“Annie, please don’t argue with me.”
She considered her options. Tell Flynn what he wanted to hear and spend some time thinking about what she would do. Or she could stand there arguing with him while her ankle hurt like the dickens and remain stubborn.
“Okay, fine, but I’m not a maid or a cook,” she asserted. “I’ll order in, and that will have to suit everybody.”
Flynn chuckled. “I thought you were going to say we have to feed ourselves. I should have known better. You’ll look out for others in your own way, won’t you, Annie?”
“Stop praising her, Flynn. It will go to her head.” Barbara Jean elbowed Flynn aside to face Annie. “I’m actually a great cook. I learned it from my mother. You would do better if you learned to cook because you don’t have much else going for you.”
“BJ, I’m not going to have you insulting Annie in her house. She’s nice enough to let us stay. Act appreciative even if you don’t feel it!”
The dragon woman peered over at him, a worried expression on her face. In a flash, she turned pouty and clung to his arm. Annie figured Barbara Jean’s mother had taught her a lot more than cooking when it came to men. She sighed and hobbled into the kitchen to look for the pizza place’s flyer she had saved, because there was no way on earth she would eat Barbara Jean’s cooking.
Chapter Fourteen
Annie woke early as usual to let Shadow outside. She tiptoed as well as she could down the hall and peeked into the room where Barbara Jean slept. The space was the only other room with a bed. The other bedrooms were empty of furniture.
Barbara Jean lay sprawled across the bed in an old nightie Annie had lent her. As Annie lay in bed waiting to fall asleep, she enjoyed the memory of Barbara Jean complaining that Annie’s nightie did nothing for her figure.
The only way to settle Barbara Jean was for Flynn to promise her they would troop to Barbara Jean’s house the next day to pick up clothes for her. A part of Annie wanted to see how Barbara Jean lived, especially as she would get to see where Wesley died.
On the other hand, Annie considered the trip to be disruptive to her flow. So, she rose early to take care of her own business. Funny how the light of day burned away the fears of the night. She still experienced a twinge of nerves when thinking of the note, but she wouldn’t let them stop her.
Recalling Stacy’s phone call, Annie decided to try to catch her before she left for work. Then she recalled the day was Saturday. Annie sometimes lost track of which day it was since she often wrote seven days a week and didn’t take weekends off.
Stacy might be planning to stick around the house and run errands later. While her friend’s house was a short walk across Annie’s back yard, Annie’s ankle wouldn’t allow her to make the trek. Instead, she grabbed her car keys after writing a quick note to Flynn, who slept on the couch.
The drive to the end of the block and turn of the corner took less than a minute, and Annie knocked on Stacy’s door. Stacy’s face appeared between the living room curtains, and she waved to Annie with too much enthusiasm. Annie supposed her worry about her boyfriend had faded as well.
When the door opened, Annie started to find instead of Stacy, Robert stood before her. Five foot nine or so but with an imposing presence, the retired military man sent a chill racing down Annie’s spine. She figured it had something to do with the scar at the top of his right ear. In fact, the ear appeared so choppy, she wondered if part of it had been cut off at some point.
Annie swayed a little, and Robert reached out to steady her. She would have leaped away from him, her usual response when men touched her, but Robert’s lightning movement and tight hold kept her in place.
A smile cracked the austere visage, and his blue eyes twinkled. “Annie, it’s good to see you again. I see you hurt your ankle. I hope it’s healing well, but knowing you it’s a slow process because you won’t stay off it.”
Annie gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh, yes, I can’t keep still. How are you, Robert? I don’t get down here as often as I like. Is Stacy home?”
Of course she had seen her friend in the window, so she knew she was home. That didn’t stop Annie from imagining Robert had hacked her up and stuffed her in the closet. Where was this darkness coming from? She had never thought ill of Robert before. He always appeared to be nothing more than a man in his sixties who maintained a strong body despite his age.
It’s because of Stacy’s call. Pull yourself together, Annie.
Robert released Annie and backed up. “She’s here. Come in, come in.”
Finding Robert at Stacy’s threw Annie off. She expected to have a tête-à-tête with her friend about what he might be up to. They couldn’t chat with Robert sitting there.
Annie hobbled into the living room, and Stacy leaped up from the couch to run over to her. “Annie, you’re early. We were going to talk about tea time or lunch.”
“I know. I was bored stuck in the house. I’m sorry. Plus, I thought you might need errand time since it’s Saturday.”
A pile of paperback novels sat on the couch with a few littering the table. Annie noticed Robert move around them both as Stacy hugged her to begin stacking the novels. He would prefer order, she assumed.
“You’re right. I have to go to the bank later, but that doesn’t matter if I can visit with you. Sit down, and tell me all about what you’ve been up to. Frannie called to tell me Flynn’s car was parked in your
driveway all night—again.”
Annie groaned. “Stacy, at least pretend you don’t know what I’ve been doing.”
Stacy’s eyes rounded. “You mean that? Ohh, my little Annie. Will there be wedding bells soon?”
Annie’s face flamed. “No! Sweetheart, please stop jumping to conclusions.”
“What’s the fun in that?”
Stacy dragged Annie to the couch and shuffled the piled books aside. They tumbled, and Robert sighed, but he gazed on Stacy with such affection, Annie’s heart warmed to him.
“Sit down, and tell me everything. Robbie, can you click the button for tea? I’ll come in and make it in a minute.”
Robert moved to the door. “I can handle tea, Stacy. You ladies enjoy your visit.”
“Darn it. I didn’t get a chance to make the cucumber sandwiches,” Stacy complained.
“Drat,” Annie echoed, without much conviction.
When Annie took a seat, Stacy moved to sit beside her. She locked arms with Annie and ducked her head close to Annie’s. “About yesterday.”
“Yes?”
Stacy scanned the room. Annie was pretty sure the only direction Robert could return was through the doorway, straight across from them.
“The text Robert got was fishy.”
“Oh, Stacy, you shouldn’t look at his texts. That only gets you worried for no reason. Plus, do you really think he’s cheating or something?”
“Not cheating.” Stacy paused again to listen. “Let’s be honest, honey. My Robbie has a nice body, but it’s covered under those boring clothes he wears. No one knows. That shiny head glistening in the sunlight isn’t doing anyone any favors.”
“Is a bald head supposed to do favors?”
“Listen,” Stacy insisted. “He’s retired, but the text he got offered him money, a lot of money.”
“A ponzi scheme?”
“No.”
“Stacy.” Robert appeared in the doorway. Annie hadn’t heard so much as a squeak on the floorboards. Both she and Stacy jumped, and Stacy yelped. Robert frowned at her. “Honey, it’s only me. Why are you so fidgety lately?”
“I’m always high-spirited. You know that, Robbie.”
He scratched his head, and Annie coughed thinking of Stacy’s earlier comment. Goodness, this woman provided her with entertainment. She breathed deep, trying to get a hold of herself so she wouldn’t laugh.
“The cake you bought yesterday,” Robert went on, “do you want me to cut a few pieces? Annie, do you like strawberry shortcake?”
“There’s no cake I don’t like. On second thought, I don’t like german chocolate. The coconut gets in my teeth, and I don’t want that while I’m trying to enjoy the yumminess of cake.”
Robert looked like he wanted to say he didn’t ask her for that much detail, but he just nodded and left the room. Annie turned back to Stacy, expecting her friend to continue their conversation. Stacy shut her eyes and waved her hand.
“I need a minute. That was too close.” She stood and walked to the hall then peered around the doorjamb. Annie sat back against the couch. She didn’t mind if all of this drama was just in Stacy’s head. The excitement of it took her thoughts off the real issue—the murder and the fact that someone had intended to kill her last night.
Annie’s phone rang, and she pulled it from her purse. She wasn’t surprise to see Flynn’s name on the screen.
“Where are you?” he demanded.
She grinned. “Out and about.”
“Annie, if you don’t come back now, I’m going to—”
“Settle down, Flynn.” She laughed. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Fifteen
Annie ended up learning nothing from the visit with Stacy because after Flynn interrupted insisting she come home, Robert brought in the tea. He stayed, chatting happily with Annie about her books and such.
She did like his offer to give her advice should she include a military main character. The hint that she do so wasn’t missed. Of course, if she took Robert’s suggestion and got his advice, Stacy, who begged Annie on a regular basis to write a romance, would be hurt.
Annie spent the next few days resting her ankle and writing. She resisted visiting her friends in their homes or walking outside with Shadow, although staying put was excruciating.
When her phone rang the following week after Flynn basically moved in, even seeing Aunt Bridge’s name didn’t faze her. “Hello, Aunt Bridge. How are you?”
“Annie, dear, I don’t like what I’m hearing.”
Annie held the phone to her ear and reached down to her ankle and pressed on it. No pain. She stood and put more weight than she had been on the foot, and still nothing. “What are you hearing?”
“That you’re living with a man! Annie, I raised you better than this. You’re not married, and haven’t we been working on finding you a husband? Why would he be interested if you’ve been giving your body away to a man who obviously has no interest in respecting you as a woman?”
Annie sighed. Now she wished she didn’t answer. “I’m not giving my body away, Aunt Bridge. I’m—”
She fell silent, wondering how she would explain it. If she told her aunt about the note or the plan the killer might have had, no telling what Aunt Bridge’s reaction would be. Anything might happen, from trying to smuggle Annie out of town to demanding Annie move in to her house.
“I’m just renting a room to him,” Annie finished lamely.
“Annie Holloway, if you think I’ll believe that lie, you don’t know me very well.”
“It’s the twenty-first century, Aunt Bridge. Men and women are living together all the time.” Annie had an epiphany. If her aunt thought she was seeing Flynn, then the push with other men would stop. “Flynn and I have an understanding.”
No answer.
“Uh, Aunt Bridge?”
“I’m going to have a conversation with that man. He’s not going to take advantage of my niece. Even if I have to go to his superior at the firehouse, I will make sure he understands who he’s dealing with.”
Annie’s mouth fell open. She’d seen her aunt wear people down until they gave her what she wanted. Not having the financial clout that the Witmans had meant nothing to Aunt Bridge.
Annie tolerated her attempt to control her life because it didn’t matter. Annie always did just what she wanted. To interfere with Flynn’s livelihood was going too far, especially since the man was trying to protect her, and other than gentle teasing here and there, he hadn’t tried anything that would make her feel uncomfortable in her own house.
Plus, he cleans the bathroom like a pro! A man of my dreams.
“Aunt Bridge, I’m thirty-four, and I’m capable of making decisions for my life. Please don’t try to interfere with Flynn’s. If you do, you and I are going to have a problem.”
Aunt Bridge gasped. “You would choose this man over your flesh and blood?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I love you, Aunt Bridge. I don’t know what I would do without you. However, I will live the way I want, and the one thing I won’t do is get married. There, now you know.”
Annie’s stomach tightened.
“A—Annie.” She heard disillusionment as her aunt’s voice cracked. “You don’t mean that. What about your future? What about children?”
Annie had admitted she wouldn’t get married, but she didn’t feel confident enough to shatter the next dream her aunt held—she refused to have kids.
“My future will be okay. Don’t worry. I want you to promise me you won’t go to the firehouse.”
“Annie, listen to reason.”
“Promise me, Aunt Bridge.”
“If you insist on seeing this man, then I’m going to insist on meeting him face to face. I want to be sure he’s a good person and right for you. Otherwise, I will go to his boss.”
Annie ran a hand over her face. “All right. I’ll see if I can get Flynn to agree to dinner.”
“Good. I’ll make the arrangements.”
&
nbsp; Her aunt disconnected the call, and Annie groaned. She knew what arrangements meant—a big production of dress clothes and place settings with other guests. Among them would be men to tempt Annie away from Flynn.
“We’re not even a couple, for Pete’s sake.”
She had to keep the secret for now, at least until the killer was found. Hopefully, Flynn would be willing to play a part and pretend to be her boyfriend. Annie never imagined she would have to stoop to this, but she decided to look on the bright side. Dinner at her aunt’s with a fake beau was research and useable in a book.
* * *
Annie climbed out of Flynn’s car before the small church with stone walls, painted stark white and roof, steeple, door and window trim all electric blue. The place could probably be seen from space, but that was just speculation. “First Life and Love Church of Grace, we’re sure this is the one?”
Flynn looked down at his phone. “This is the address Barbara Jean gave me. You should have stayed home, Annie.”
She waved a hand as she moved up the walk. “Let’s not start that again. I was the one who suggested we talk to the minister, remember? Barbara Jean was sure Wesley had the license last, but she might have been wrong. Maybe all this time, we should have asked the minister. At the very least, he can corroborate her story.”
“You still don’t believe her?”
Annie eyed him over her shoulder. “If Barbara Jean turns out to be married to Wesley, it’s going to look a lot worse for her. You realize that?”
His jaw clenched. “Yes, but I’m also trying to find the real killer. This I want to do for her future.”
Annie stopped walking and faced him. “Flynn, do you believe she married him for money?”
“I think she cared about him in her own way.”
Annie said nothing, and he sighed.
“Yes, ultimately she married him for his money. She’s always been plain about that, but I also feel she liked him.” He smiled. “It was what I consoled myself with when I loved her.”
Death Loved A Woman (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 2) Page 10