Whispers of Danger and Love

by Janis Lane

  “No, I had an appointment, but I’m on my way there right now. Shall I see you later?” Cheryl asked.

  Francine stood looking at her while patting her hair with raised eyebrows, no doubt recently plucked and groomed. Bright sunlight accented the heavy makeup on her face. She nodded and moved as if to find her car.

  Cheryl looked up and spotted David Larkin watching her from the doorway of a hardware shop. He shook his head slightly from side to side, indicating she was not to recognize him.

  Fine with me if I never recognize you again! What have you gotten me into now? This may be the worst caper since we built that tree house in your grandmother’s prize apple tree.

  Chapter 6

  Detective David Larkin pulled his nondescript cop car slowly to a stop behind a thin stand of roadside brush. He reached for his already cooling take-out coffee and sipped while he stared at the house on the adjacent hill. Mansion would be a better description. Ugly modern-day McMansion all one-story and sprawling in every direction. He could see a fenced-in area, probably the pool with an adjacent building—cabana?—attached. The foundation plantings were formal and stiff. Very little of it. No trees to speak of. It would be impossible to get close enough to survey the activity around it. The grounds were too extensive, broad, at least a couple of acres with almost no cover. He reached for his binoculars and steadied his arm on the open window.

  Lots of activity. Most of it generated by a trim little brunette wearing a hard hat and a pair of painter’s jeans. Incongruously, bright yellow boots, worn almost to her knees, were like a flashing stoplight to his searching eyes. She carried a clipboard in her hand and was waving to a front-end loader, which seemed about to run her down. It was hauling a . . . what? Rock? Huge boulder. Larkin shook his head. That little girl could get herself into some kinds of messes. He’d always had to look out for her growing up. Her and her big blue eyes, staring up at him so trustingly. He chuckled with a memory of her passing scrap lumber up to him when he was in his Grandma’s apple tree. There she stood, silently staring, until he had to pull her up beside him. Pesky little girl. He had to admit she hadn’t flinched when the grandmothers’ had punished them both.

  Plunked on the back steps for what seemed like hours while she sat beside him forbidden even to talk to each other. Not a single tear. He’d have to give her that. She had guts. Or whatever rich little girls had. Courage probably better named. Just as solemnly, she had stood underneath the apple tree while he ripped his tree house apart and passed the lumber back down to her. Grandma had been upset.

  The front-end loader successfully rolled the huge boulder into a crevice already prepared for it in the side of the hill. He watched Cheryl clap her hands enthusiastically and wave happily to the driver who saluted and drove his equipment away. Cheryl walked over to the rock and patted it fondly as if it were a big dog. God. Did she just hug that stone?

  He could get jealous of that rock. Last night was still swirling around in his head. When did he get so entangled in one woman? He absolutely refused to think about it. He had successfully tabled unsuitable thoughts of Cheryl years ago and couldn’t quite figure out why she was back haunting his nighttime dreams.

  Here comes the girlfriend. He adjusted the binoculars once more as the brassy blonde came tripping down the hill toward Cheryl. What a bimbo! And what a contrast she was to the classy lady in the hard hat beside her. Even in her work clothes, Cheryl stood out as a tribute to her gender. He winced when the blonde put her arm around Cheryl’s shoulders. Wonder where Toledo picked that one up. He hated that they had had to use Cheryl. It would suit him better if she were miles away and had never heard of Sam Toledo. If only there was another way.

  What now?

  The front-end loader was rolling toward the two women carrying a good-sized evergreen tree of some sort. Now he saw a hole already dug and prepared for it. Two burly men swarmed down the hill behind the loader and guided the large tree in place. With shovels they back-filled the tree halfway with soil. A truck pulled close and treated the tree with water and what he presumed was fertilizer. The water had a bluish cast.

  Two more men rode close in a green and yellow Gator, that sexy little John Deere tractor/truck, and distributed several shrubs. The scene was beginning to make sense. Who would have believed the little girl knows what she is doing? He settled down to watch Cheryl turn the Toledo stronghold into something with a bit of class.

  She has enough of that. Class, that is. She was born with a silver spoon between her perfect teeth and sexy lips with doting parents fulfilling her every wish. Why she chose to make a living— No, he was certain she didn’t need to earn her room and board. Why she enjoyed getting her hands dirty was beyond his comprehension. He noticed her turn toward where he was parked and shade her eyes.

  Don’t do that, Sweetheart. He squirmed in the seat and put the cold coffee cup in its holder ready to roll if anyone else noticed him lurking there. Look away, Cher. Look away!

  The blonde said something to her and the two of them walked toward the house and out of sight. David felt his stomach lurch. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. Perhaps it would work. Worth a try. He switched on the ignition and coasted down the hill before engaging the gears and gas.

  It is definitely worth a try. Anything is better than just sitting here watching. It made him feel helpless. What if something happened in that house to his little girl? What could he do sitting on his rear out here on the road? He clenched his hands on the steering wheel and glared. He understood Fowler’s reasoning, but not when it came to a stubborn little girl who went her own way and was too naïve to sense danger.

  “It went well, Gany.” Cheryl stroked the feathers on the parrot and then filled its food dish. “There were no gun-carrying thugs that I could see. I only chatted with Francine for a few minutes. Otherwise we got most of the hardscape in place and quite a few of the trees and shrubs.”

  “Awk. All the world’s a stage.”

  Cheryl had to laugh. Her Nana was fond of Shakespeare and often quoted from his plays as she worked around the house. Although she had given up trying to explain to David Larkin that the parrot’s name was Ganymede, alternatively Rosalind, from the play, As You Like It, he refused to call the majestic bird anything but Polly and insisted she needed a cracker.

  “Awk. Naughty Boy. Naughty Boy.”

  Cheryl turned in time to see David walking through the front door of the shop. Gany had never forgiven or forgotten the teasing she had gotten from the mischievous teenager next door. She flew off her perch and into her large cage, plucking at the door until it shut behind her.

  I should pay attention. That bird has more sense than I do. Cheryl turned to greet David with a bland smile.

  “What can I do for you, Detective? Was that your car I glimpsed down by the road today?” She took a deep breath as he loomed over her. She refused to move closer to inhale his scent as she would dearly like to do. That fragrant, spicy shaving lotion had been a part of him since as a teenager he had bungled his first shave. Now she suspected he had to shave twice a day to keep his face from becoming scruffy. The thought of that rough cheek next to hers had her drawing a deep breath.

  “What can you do for me?” His face went from a smile to a wicked grin to an outright leer. “Now that’s a topic for later tonight. Lots of chatting about that for sure, sweet thing. But I need to discuss your police work for now.”

  “I’m not doing police work. I merely agreed to identify Mr. Toledo’s guests if they arrived while I am working. Police work is what you do. I design gardens,” she said firmly as she rearranged some garden folders on the counter.

  “Awk, awk! Naughty boy! Don’t slam the door.” The parrot shifted restlessly in her cage and plucked at a bell hanging there, clearly disturbed by the detective’s visit.

  “Awww, Polly want a cracker
?” Larkin walked over and tapped on the side of the cage.

  The parrot tucked its head underneath its wings.

  “There, I got her quiet now,” he said.

  Cheryl couldn’t contain her smile. “She’s got your number, David.” Her chuckles tumbled out, and Larkin paused to consider her with renewed concentrated interest. He drew closer and reached for her across the counter. Cheryl, still laughing, darted out of his reach.

  “Now I remember you,” he said, his voice dropping into the sexy range. “You’re that little girl next door and you’re all grown up now.” He started around the counter but paused when Cheryl stopped laughing and frowned at him.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. Now listen. First of all, don’t look for me when you’re on the job. I may or may not be around, but if you look for me, it could call attention, and then we’ll both be in the suds.

  “Second, it might not be me. You don’t know all the policemen and detectives in the police department, but they know to keep a watch on you. Just trust me that you’re being monitored at all times when you’re at Toledo’s. We want you to relax and just be yourself, which is a sweet thing indeed. Not that you need to be sweet to that sleaze ball Toledo.”

  “It’s difficult to relax, but I can forget all this police/criminal stuff when I get into my work. I’ll try my best. Was that you down by the road today?”

  “Yes, for a while. Now remember what I said. Don’t look for me and if you do see me, don’t recognize me. For heaven’s sake, don’t talk to me. Hopefully all this will be over soon. I gotta go. You wanna come over to my house tonight for pizza?”

  “Actually I have a date tonight. A dinner date. But I’ll take a rain check on the pizza.” She closed her book and tidied the counter. “Thanks for the information. Good luck tomorrow.” She gave him a dismissal smile as he stood rooted to the floor.

  Finally, he turned without a word and left the shop.

  Cheryl leaned across the counter in relief. Larkin was getting harder and harder to handle. Or was it her hormones that were acting up? Difficult to tell at this point. Something or someone was certainly straining her ability to control herself. A dinner date is just what I need. Mom and Dad do qualify, I think. Who knows whom I’ll run into at the country club dining room? I hope not Gordon.

  She punched in a number on her cell. “Mom? Are you and Dad going to be at dinner tonight at the Club? . . . May I join you? . . . Great. What time? . . . Okay, around six it is. See you later.” Still short of breath, which seemed to be a perpetual status whenever the huge detective was around, Cheryl went around the corner to cover the parrot’s cage.

  “Sorry, Gany, he really doesn’t mean to upset you anymore. He’s just oblivious to what to do and what not to do around a sensitive bird. He sort of grows on you if you relax and let him. Which I’m certainly not going to be doing any time in the future, and forget that I mentioned it, will you? ‘Night, ‘night now.”

  “Parting is such sweet awk.”

  Cheryl laughed. “Yes it is, Gany. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Cheryl could hear the bird settling down on her roost for the night.

  She viewed her fingernails. It would take some doing to get them in shape before she met her parents. They loved her but they were baffled by her work. Okay, everyone was baffled because she loved to be outside doing manual labor. She headed for the shower wondering if she’d gotten just a bit too much sun on her nose today. Probably popped out a dozen freckles.

  She paused in her appraisal of herself to answer her cell. Not him again.

  “Hello, Gordon . . . No, I was just about to get into the shower. What’s up? . . . Not tonight. I have plans. . . . No, with Mom and Dad. . . . I’m meeting them at the Club. Haven’t seen them in a week or two. . . . Well, if you do, make it around dessert time. I have some private things I want to share with my parents, if you don’t mind . . .”

  “Gordon, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you do remember we’re no longer engaged, don’t you?” She listened to his protests.

  “Of course, we’re friends. Just because I want to have some privacy with my parents doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend. I have to go. . . . Yes, right now. Good-bye, Gordon.”

  “Can I go to the shower now, do you think?” she asked the heavens above. “I’m determined to get to the shower. Will Gordon never stop being a pest? You’d think he would have figured out he can’t control me when I finally broke off the engagement.”

  David Larkin was making the very same mistake. Admittedly, she was oversensitive to being ordered about, but she would hold firm. No man was ever going to get away with treating her like a brainless minion. Her father had never been guilty of that obnoxious male trait and darned if she’d put up with it from a contemporary—no matter how sexy. He’d treat her with respect or . . .

  She stared solemnly at her reflection in the mirror. “Definitely too much sun. Here come the freckles. Big as quarters. No doubt I’ll hear about this from a lot of people.”

  She shook her head regretfully and stepped into her shower. With the hot water streaming over her shoulders and wet head, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts slip wherever they would. Soft brown eyes, sultry voice, hot kisses raining down on her face. She used her washcloth to slowly suds herself. The grime from her work was sliding off along with the worries of the day. Flashes of herself in the garden with David raced through her mind hot with passion and temptation.

  Then she laughed. The sound of his surprise when he fell over the statue Pan was too good. The splashing around in the goldfish pool wasn’t bad either.

  David was going to learn he couldn’t indulge his every whim where she was concerned. She was determined to teach him to respect her and her work. Not to mention her person which he seemed to think he could touch, fondle, and kiss whenever the notion stuck him. Never mind that she’d loved every minute of it. That wasn’t the point. Or maybe it was.

  Chapter 7

  Bugs, Salad Greens, and Fun in the Garden

  By Cheryl

  Everyone should by now be aware of the danger of the careless use of chemicals in the garden. My humble opinion is that heavy pesticides are best left to the farmers who are trained to control the critters who invade our food source. For instance, it’s fairly easy to capture those shiny black Japanese beetles without using a single obnoxious pesticide. Go into the garden in the evening just as the sun is setting.

  For some reason the beetles are asleep or have fallen into a stupor. Use a coffee can with a bit of water in the bottom and a plastic lid to clap on. Hold the can underneath the largest wad of bugs and tap the plant gently. They’ll fall right into your can. Close with the lid and slushy around until they are wet. Keep doing this over and over in the evenings. Not this year, but perhaps by the next or the next, you’ll start to see less and less of the annoying critters with nary a pesticide in sight.

  Alternately, there are commercial organic preparations to apply to your lawn which disturbs the life cycle of the beetles. If you insist on using the plastic lures, place them in the way back corner of your garden—preferably in your neighbor’s backyard, even better, down the street in the vacant lot where your kids play sand lot softball.

  Some of you are wondering how to enjoy those crisp greens, which are so easy to grow in your own garden.

  Cheryl tapped her foot impatiently. The volleyball game was on again next door and the grunts and shouts of triumph were distracting. She expected the ball to fly over the hedge any minute now. She was ahead on her column and the job at Toledo’s was coming along nicely. What could go wrong?

  Something for sure. Her experience was that with David Larkin in the vicinity, anything at all could explode into confusion, mayhem, or kissing. Or all three. Cheryl wasn’t certain which was worse. Or more wonderful. She hunched her back, feeling as if both gran
dmothers were looking over her shoulder.

  Sitting in her garden enjoying the last of the sun, she reviewed in her head the next steps to take in the elaborate plans for a two-acre landscaping design. She wanted to go over the list of perennials with Francine. Her plan was to give the client choices, but safe ones. Success in the completion of a beautiful garden was the goal, but she wanted satisfied clients in the process.

  She was pleased with the hillside planting. It looked as if it had always been there with the carefully placed boulders and trees. Since money was no object, she was able to move larger trees and shrubbery into the natural terrain. Next came a discreet patio halfway down the slope. She considered should she use natural sandstone pavers. Her patio planters would brighten up the newly purchased metal and mesh table and chairs. Francine said the delivery would be in a couple of days. Cheryl knew she should be ready by then.

  She became aware of the silence next door. Game over? She had mixed emotions about that. The quiet was nice, but it meant that David was on the loose again. She’d bet her last pair of clippers that . . .

  “Cher?” David spoke quietly though the hedge. “You there?”

  “I’m here. What’s happening?” She closed her laptop and tugged on the neck of her T-shirt. She reached for her glass of ice tea and waited for David. She looked up in surprise when not only David Larkin, but three more burly men trailed through the hedge with him.

  “I wanted to introduce you to my friends, Cher. This is Bob, Tony, and Malcolm.”

  The men, drenched in sweat and wet T-shirts, grinned, wiped their hands on their shorts, and reached forward to shake her hand.

  “Sorry we disturbed you the other day,” Bob said. “We get a little too enthusiastic occasionally. Ole Dave here has mentioned how nice your garden is. Hope we don’t harm it again.”