by Marta Perry
“I’ll do that,” Nick assured her. The instant Mrs. Anderson disappeared, he lifted Allison off her feet and strode to the stairs.
Bereft of breath, she clutched the crutches to keep from hitting them against the wall. “Nick, put me down. She said help me, not carry me.”
“If you don’t stop wiggling, I’m likely to drop you.” His teasing smile was aggravatingly close as he mounted the stairs, cradling her against his chest. “Just hold still and enjoy the ride.”
She’d say something smart, but she was suddenly afraid that if she did, he might guess what she was feeling. All of her exhaustion had dropped away, and she had an almost irresistible urge to snuggle her head against his shoulder. The flannel shirt was soft against her cheek, and his warmth and strength seemed to permeate it.
Weakening, she pressed her face closer and heard his breath catch. The pulse in his neck was beating a mile a minute, and she suspected her own was just as fast.
He reached the top. “Which room?” The words were a husky rumble.
She nodded toward the door to her room, felt him fumble for the knob. He shoved it open and carried her straight to the bed. He put her down, and for a dizzying moment he leaned over her. Close, so very close. His hands were braced on either side of her, his lips no more than a heartbeat away.
“Ally,” he murmured, closing the gap.
With a thump, something landed on the bed. Meowing harshly, Hector pushed his fat furry self between them.
Nick’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “Foiled again. And by a cat.”
She could breathe once more. “Better the cat than Mrs. Anderson, I suppose. How did he get here? Poor baby—I left him shut in the office, didn’t I?”
“I’d guess Sarah realized he was there and brought him over.” Nick ran a strong hand along the silky fur. Hector decided to be pleased, arching his back in response to the touch. Sort of how she felt, Allison decided.
A rattle of china announced the approach of Mrs. Anderson. Nick straightened. “I’d better—” He stopped, muttered something under his breath, and bent to give her a quick, hard kiss. “Stay safe this time, will you? Mac and I will be here later.”
She nodded, a little dazed from the kiss. “We’ll talk later.” And maybe it was a good thing Mac would be coming with him, because she wasn’t quite sure what would happen if they were alone.
* * *
BY THE TIME Nick reached Blackburn House, he’d managed to get himself under control. Tricky thing, this attraction. He hadn’t felt anything like this in a long time, and he’d be just as happy to do without it now. Sexual attraction was one thing, but the complicated mix of emotions that seemed to be attached to it where Allison was concerned was something else again.
His son had to be his first consideration. Always. He couldn’t let himself get seriously involved with a woman without thinking about how it might affect Jamie. And Allison...to say the least, she seemed to want a completely different life than the one he’d carved out for himself and his son. If something didn’t have a chance of working out, it was way better not to start it.
The crowd in Blackburn House was larger than he’d expect this time of day, and he was pretty good at estimating the ebb and flow of people at Spring Fest after all these years. He hadn’t taken two steps before he knew why—every second or third person stopped him to ask if the story was true, if Allison was in the hospital, if he knew how it had happened.
Evading the questions as best he could, he went in search of his brother. He finally ran Mac to ground in the small room in the basement that was officially called the custodian’s closet. Fred Glick had turned it into a little home away from home with a well-worn recliner and a tiny refrigerator. At the moment, Fred was glaring at Mac, shoulders hunched as if prepared for an attack.
“Hey, it’s not my fault if somebody knocked over a broom on the stairs. I didn’t do it. Ms. Standish probably did it herself, and now she’s trying to blame me.”
Nick found his hands curling into fists and forcibly relaxed them. Fred was just being Fred—according to him, he was never responsible for anything that went wrong.
Mac’s expression said he wasn’t buying it. “Why was the broom left up there to begin with? Are you saying that wasn’t you?”
“Not my fault,” Fred repeated, his tone turning whiny. He rubbed his nose with what looked like a cleaning rag. “You don’t know how much extra work this Spring Fest makes for me. Nobody appreciates it, I can tell you. I’d no sooner get started on one thing than somebody called me to do something else. I had to go help set up tables, and I forgot, that’s all. Can’t blame a man for that.”
“So, that means you were around all morning, does it?” Mac changed course.
Fred eyed him suspiciously. “Well, yeah, mostly. Like I say, there was a lot to do.”
“Who went upstairs while you were so busy? You must have been able to see the stairs if you were working in the hall.”
“See them, yeah, but I didn’t have time to go noticing who went where. Seemed like half the town was there at one time or another. Not my job to watch who goes where.”
Mac barely suppressed a sigh. “Did you notice anyone go upstairs?”
“I s’pose. Nobody who didn’t have a reason for being there. No strangers, I mean. Your brother here went up and came down carrying a couple of boxes, I know.”
In answer to Mac’s questioning look, Nick nodded. “I brought down stuff for the sale, but that was pretty early. Before nine, anyway. I didn’t notice the broom then, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. I was in a hurry.”
Mac nodded and turned back to Fred. “All right, Fred. That’s all I need for now. You can get back to work.” When Fred didn’t move, he added, “They’ll be starting to tear down soon. Go see if anyone needs help.”
Mumbling something under his breath, Fred shambled off.
“Let’s get out in the air.” Mac headed for the nearest door. “This place smells too strongly of Glick.”
Nick followed him out. “I don’t know why Evelyn kept him on here all those years. He certainly doesn’t earn whatever she paid him.”
“She probably figured he couldn’t do much else,” Mac said. “How’s Allison?”
“Feeling pretty rocky, I’d say.” His treacherous brain produced an image of Allison on the bed looking up at him, half longing, half startled. “I told her you’d be back to talk to her after she’d rested.”
Mac nodded. “I will, but I’m not sure what else she’ll be able to tell us. It was a neat plan. By the time she fell, whoever put the broom there could be safely mingling with the crowd or could have come and gone by the back stairs.”
“That door’s usually kept locked,” Nick said. “Someone could go out, but—” He stopped, because Mac was shaking his head.
“Apparently it was left unlocked all day. Glick again. According to him, he figured he might as well leave it open because they’d use that door to carry boxes out to the truck after the sale was over.”
True enough. At the end of the sale, everything left was loaded up and taken to the Salvation Army store for donation. “That wouldn’t happen until after four,” he said. “Fred had no call to leave it open all day.”
“Anything to save him an extra step, I suppose.” Mac shrugged. “The point is, was this deliberate? And if so, who wants to get rid of Allison Standish that much?”
“I don’t see how it can’t have been deliberate.” There he was, clenching his fists again. “The broom was leaning against the wall when she went up. From what she said, she must have been upstairs no more than five to ten minutes at most, and when she came back down, the broom was lying across the stairs.”
Mac shook his head. “Not just lying. I found the marks where it had been pushed between the uprights. I don’t see how that could
have happened accidentally.”
Nick’s stomach churned. “No. It was no accident.” He sucked in a breath. “Whoever it was took an awful risk, though. If anyone looked up—”
“I tried it,” Mac said. “You could stay behind the corner of the stairs and slide the broom out, wedging it between the bars, without ever coming into the open at all.” He frowned. “Seems like whoever it was must have left by the back stairs, though. Or waited until after Allison fell to go out in all the turmoil. Nobody thought of checking around upstairs.”
“Yeah.” He gave himself a mental kick. “I should have, but I didn’t.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Mac advised. “There are plenty of places to hide upstairs, especially if one of the attic doors was left unlocked.”
“So what next?” Nick glared at his brother, needing to blame someone. He was behaving just like Fred Glick, it seemed. “Have you found out if any of the people concerned in the ownership of Blackburn House were inside this morning?”
“Believe it or not, I did think of that.” Sarcasm laced Mac’s voice. “All of them were, at one time or another. The entire Blackburn family made an appearance, and Brenda Conner and her daughter were both there for a time.” Mac shook his head. “Are we seriously imagining one of those solid citizens was upstairs setting a trap in order to get Allison out of the way? That’s hardly their style.”
It was hard to envision, Nick had to admit. But someone had done it. “As far as solid citizens go, I wouldn’t exactly describe T.J. as that. He’s been skirting the edges of serious trouble for the past year. And Krysta’s the type who never seems to see the consequences of her actions.”
“True. But I’ve never noticed either of them going to any trouble to oblige their elders.” Mac grinned. “Not like you and me. I wouldn’t expect them to move a finger to try and regain Blackburn House.”
They’d rounded the building as they talked. A few people stood on the sidewalk, clustered around the hot dog stand. As they approached, Tommy Blackburn turned, hesitated and then came toward them carrying a foam coffee cup and wearing a suitably solemn expression.
“I was just hearing about Allison’s accident,” he said. “Is she all right? Is there anything I can do?”
“She’s doing fine,” Nick said quickly, before Mac could respond. “Luckily Aaron King spotted her when she tripped and was able to break her fall.” He watched Tommy’s reaction but couldn’t read anything more than concern and relief.
“Good thing he was there. I’ve always thought those stairs were dangerous. Slippery, and it’s a long way down to that marble floor.”
He was getting tired of that particular cliché. “Allison didn’t slip. She tripped on a broom someone had left across the stairs.”
“Still a dangerous spot, no matter what caused it,” Tommy said. “My father says that stairway is a masterpiece, but I don’t see it myself. Give me a comfortable modern place all on one floor any day.”
“No desire to get back the family homestead, then?” Nick asked, trying to keep his voice light.
Tommy grimaced. “That’s a fool notion of the old man’s. Waste of money, as far as I can see, but of course, he wouldn’t take my advice.” He shrugged. “Well, give Allison my best. I’m glad she wasn’t seriously hurt.” He turned away and was absorbed by the crowd again.
“There’s one person who doesn’t have any reason to get rid of Allison, according to him,” Mac said quietly.
“According to him,” Nick repeated as they went back into Blackburn House. “Still, he might want to please his father more than he lets on. It’s Blackburn Senior who holds the purse strings, and rumor has it he’s getting tired of funding Tommy’s lifestyle.”
Mac nodded, seeming distracted. “I didn’t have a chance to talk to Ralph Mitchell yet. There’s not much chance he’d see anything since the stairway faces the other direction, but I’d better try.” He glanced at his brother. “Don’t you have work of your own to do?”
“Is that a hint that you could do without my company? Too bad, because I’m not vanishing. I’ll tag along while you talk to Ralph. After all, it was his shop that was broken into. If the two things are connected—”
“I don’t see how,” Mac said, but he didn’t offer any objections when Nick walked back to the bookshop with him.
But it seemed they were destined to disappointment. Emily, Ralph’s clerk, shook her head when Mac asked for him.
“He’s gone on home,” she said, her porcelain-blue eyes distressed. “He was just so upset after Ms. Standish’s accident that he couldn’t settle down. Why, he was shaking so badly he couldn’t even drink the nice cup of tea I made for him.”
Nick exchanged glances with his brother. “It seems odd that he’d be that upset,” he said. “Ms. Standish wasn’t badly hurt, you know.”
“Oh, I know, and I’m just so thankful. When I think of how bad it might have been...” She let that trail off, shuddering. “But Ralph is just so sensitive. I don’t think he’s really recovered from the trauma of having the store broken into, you know.”
“He must be sensitive, as you say.” Mac kept a straight face. “I’m sorry he was so upset.”
“Well, it was a shock, you must admit, but we just have to carry on.” Emily nodded, patting her soft curls in satisfaction, as if priding herself for not laying claim to nerves. “Why, after Ms. Standish fell, he was in such a state. I remember his very words. He said, ‘It could have been any of us that was intended to fall into that trap. Any of us.’”
Any of us, Nick repeated silently. Was that just an example of Ralph’s timid nature? Or did he actually mean something by it?
* * *
“SO YOU REALLY don’t have any idea who did this.” Allison gestured toward her bandaged ankle, propped up on a footstool Mrs. Anderson had brought to her room.
Mac and Nick exchanged glances, and Sarah reached out to pat Allison’s shoulder. “I’m sure Mac is doing everything possible,” she said.
Allison shook her head impatiently. “I know. I’m not blaming anyone.” Her fingers tightened on the arms of the rocking chair. “I’m just frustrated, that’s all.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Mac paced to the window, shoulders hunched. “Trust me, I don’t want things like this happening in my town.”
“It’s not Allison’s fault,” Nick snapped, apparently taking offense at his brother’s tone.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” she said quickly. The frilly Victorian bedroom seemed about to burst with the presence of so much male testosterone. She certainly didn’t want to be the cause of a fight between the brothers. “Except the person who planted that blasted broom. I don’t suppose fingerprints are of any use?”
“Might be if he or she had touched the handle,” Mac said. “It looks to me as if it was just pushed over across the steps and into place. They wouldn’t have had to touch anything more than the bristles. Maybe even nudging it into place with a shoe would have worked.”
Threading her fingers through her hair, Allison shoved it behind her ears. “It can’t have been planned, it seems to me.”
“No.” Nick had a weight of irritation in his voice. “We thought you were safe enough in broad daylight. Whoever it was had to have seen you go upstairs, noticed the broom and just seized the opportunity.”
“But anyone might have come along.” Sarah sounded horrified. “An old person, a child.”
“Could be, but it wasn’t likely,” Nick said. “The offices were closed, so there was no reason for anyone to go upstairs other than people working the sale, and very few of them had occasion to leave their tables.” He looked as if he’d like to pace the floor, but unfortunately the bedroom didn’t really provide pacing space.
“You’re sure you didn’t glimpse anyone upstairs? Or maybe hear anything odd while you were there?�
�� Mac was grasping at straws, she suspected.
She shook her head, tired of saying it.
“Look at it another way,” Nick suggested. “Who did you see in the crowd before it happened? Anyone you know?” His gaze softened. “I know you’re tired. Just try to visualize the people down in the hall, if you can.”
Allison closed her eyes, wishing she could just climb into bed and go to sleep. She forced herself to picture the wide downstairs hall at Blackburn House, the marble floor, the stairwell soaring upward. She furnished the image with tables along each side, filled it with people looking, people manning the stands, people talking.
She opened her eyes. “I’m sure I saw Brenda and Krysta at some point, but I don’t know when.”
“I did, too,” Sarah exclaimed. “I didn’t think of it before, but I remember being a little surprised. Krysta looked like she didn’t want to be there, ain’t so?”
“She probably didn’t.” Allison visualized the bored expression on the teenager’s face, then saw it lighten when she glimpsed someone. “She noticed someone or something back near the bookshop that made her smile, so I’m guessing it was probably T.J.”
Mac nodded, picking up his uniform cap. “That fits with what we’ve heard from other people. The only one I haven’t been able to talk with is Ralph.”
“Why not Ralph? He might have noticed if T.J. was actually there.” Maybe she was jumping to conclusions about it, but she didn’t know who else would make Krysta light up that way.
“Ralph went home early.” Nick seemed to suppress a smile. “Emily told us he was devastated by what happened, because he’s so sensitive, you know.” His grin broke through.
“According to Emily, Ralph said it could have been anybody in the building who fell into the trap. Even him, I guess.” Mac jerked a nod toward the door. “Come on, Nick. Let’s give Allison a break.”
Nick stood, but instead of heading for the door he came to her. He leaned over, taking her hand and holding it between both of his. “You look awful. Get some rest.” His gaze clung to hers for a moment, and then he dropped her hand and stepped away. “Good night.” He followed Mac out. “Lock this,” he said briefly, and closed the door.