A Dangerous Inheritance

by Leona Karr

  “How about a cup of nice black coffee?”

  Without answering, she crossed the small kitchen and opened one of the drawers. Leaning back against the counter, she held out her hand. “Are these my imagination?”

  As Josh took them in his hands, he knew the color and feel were familiar. The red and purple ribbons were like the ones he’d tied around Glenda’s pigtails when she was a little girl. He remembered that when she was a teenager, she’d worn the same kind of ribbons to hold back her hair or to catch the long dark strands in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. The tactile memory of their soft smoothness was undeniable and painfully wrenching.

  “Where did you get them?” he asked in a thick voice.

  Stacy’s defensive attitude instantly dissolved. She could tell that he was reeling from an emotional blow, and she wished she hadn’t been so abrupt about thrusting them at him the way she did.

  “I found them on the stairway,” she explained. “They were tangled around a spindle post.”

  The way he looked at her, she could tell he didn’t believe her. Not for a minute. She didn’t blame him for being skeptical.

  She wasn’t surprised when he demanded, “Where did you really find them?”

  “It’s true. I found them on the stairs, past the landing and almost to the second floor. When I glimpsed something out of the corner of my eye, I didn’t know what I was seeing. Then I picked them up.” She moistened her dry lips. “I remembered the ribbons in Glenda’s bag of clothes. They are the same kind, aren’t they?”

  His brown eyebrows matted over the bridge of his nose in a deep frown. “But how in the hell did they get there?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself if they could have been there during all the trips we’ve made up and down the stairs yesterday and today.”

  “I guess they could have been. This is the first bright sunny day that we’ve had light coming through the stairway window,” he reasoned, but not too convincingly.

  “But you don’t think so?”

  “No.”

  “What’s the other alternative?”

  “Someone recently put them there.”

  “That was my conclusion, too,” she admitted. Someone, but who?

  She hesitated to admit that for a few irrational moments, she’d entertained the impression they might be dealing with Glenda’s ghost. In retrospect, the idea was so absurd she couldn’t believe it had ever crossed her mind. He would surely think she was on the bottle if she started talking about haunting spirits playing havoc with her. For the same reason, she didn’t want to share the nebulous impression of someone watching her as she went up the stairs.

  “There has to be some logical explanation,” she insisted as much to herself as to him.

  His hand closed in a fist over the ribbons. “Someone could have gotten these from Glenda’s empty suitcase. This could be a cruel hoax by someone who hates my guts and knows how to twist the knife. Or it could be a warning.”

  “A warning?” she echoed. In her mental search for some logical explanation, she hadn’t considered anything like that. “What kind of warning?”

  “A warning to close up the place. God only knows what’s gone on under this roof. Most likely, Glenda’s death is only one of the grim secrets that has been hidden from the light of day. This whole damn place reeks of evil.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but I won’t be scared off, either. If I leave it will be of my own choosing.”

  “We’ve got to change the locks. There are too many damn keys showing up. Who knows what kind of nut could be sneaking in and playing a sick joke?” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe one of Renquist’s potheads is still hanging around.”

  Stacy swallowed hard. There would be plenty of times when she’d be in the hotel without Josh’s protection. How would she handle herself then?

  Josh thrust the ribbons back in the drawer and slammed it shut. Then he apologized when Stacy winced from the bang. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Stacy lied. Her head felt like a bongo drum.

  “I’m going to hire a locksmith now. The closest one is in Pineville. He’s a slow old coot, but he’ll get the job done.”

  Josh made the call, explained the situation, and arranged for the man to change all the locks as soon as possible.

  “Thank you,” Stacy said, relieved to have someone else taking care of things.

  “Let me fix that cup of coffee for you.”

  “I don’t want any, really,” she protested.

  “Well then, let’s get out of here. A nice walk will clear that head of yours. I’ve sent Chester and Rob into Timberlane for some materials we need to get started opening up those first-floor rooms,” he told her. “I want to check the storage buildings out back and see what materials might already be here.”

  At the moment Stacy didn’t feel much like a walk, but Josh’s firm hand on her arm didn’t give her much choice. She reluctantly agreed, and once they were out in the fresh air, she was glad that he had insisted.

  As they walked around the perimeter of the hotel, and Josh pointed out the boundaries of the property, Stacy realized for the first time the extent of her inheritance. There was more acreage than she had imagined. It was too bad that the Haverlys had chosen the wrong place for their hotel. A little closer to Denver, or the popular ski resorts, would have made the land of some value.

  Behind the east wing of the hotel were a series of out-buildings. They were made with rough pine walls, steep roofs and only a few windows. Apparently the largest one had been used as a hotel garage. The weight of heavy winter snows must have caused portions of the roof to collapse. All of the structures were in need of paint and upkeep, but a few were still in useable condition. The doors to these buildings were padlocked, accounting for the many keys on Stacy’s ring.

  “Mr. Doughty, the lawyer, told me there was a vehicle listed on the inventory of Uncle Willard’s things. That’s why I sold my car and rented one in Denver.” Secretly she’d hoped she would be driving something newer than her undependable ten-year-old model, but, given the condition of everything else, that hope was quickly dying. “The listing didn’t specify what kind or make.”

  “Well, let’s check this building. It might serve as a small garage.”

  After trying several keys on the ring, Josh finally found the right one. The padlock was not much of a deterrent to anyone determined enough to get into the building, he thought. The lock could have been pried off with a crowbar. When they went inside, and he saw an old, neglected Jeep sitting inside, he knew why no one had bothered.

  “Well, it’s not exactly what I hoped for,” Stacy said, disappointment registering on her face.

  “A four-wheel drive is the best vehicle to have in this country,” Josh tried to reassure her. “A wash job will do wonders. Let’s see if it still runs.”

  Again he searched the ring and found the ignition key, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. “It’s probably out of gas or the battery is dead.”

  Dead. For some reason the word rang in her ears like a taunting mantra.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he assured her when he saw her stricken expression. “We’ll get it running or get you something that will.”

  “It’s this whole place and everything in it.”

  “I know,” he said grimly and took her hand as he led her back out in the sunshine.

  The smaller building next to the garage was partially filled with construction supplies. Everything was stacked so haphazardly, Josh couldn’t begin to tell the quality or quantity of anything. He groaned, thinking of the hours it would take to organize all the materials.

  “It’s a mess, isn’t it?” Stacy said, regretting the exasperated look on his face.

  “I’ll have to make an inventory,” Josh answered, as if resigned to the task ahead. “Then I’ll have to order what we need. Fortunately there’s a good lumberyard in Timberlane that has survived since the time when this area was logging country. How do we handl
e the expenses?”

  Stacy explained the procedure that the lawyer had set up for ordering and paying for materials and labor. She was deeply grateful that Josh would be taking care of all the details, but on some deeper nagging level, she wondered if he’d stay long enough to see the end of the renovations.

  “What’s the matter?” Josh asked after they finished checking a long narrow storage area packed with miscellaneous discards of flea-market quality.

  Stacy wasn’t about to admit that she was already dreading the time when he’d say goodbye with a wave and a smile. She’d known from the beginning that his motivation for being there wasn’t a commitment to see her through this. Once he had assured himself that there were no leads to tracking down Renquist, there’d be no reason for him to stay.

  “I think I’m getting hungry,” she lied.

  “Good. Let’s have dinner on the terrace. There are still a couple of chairs and a table out there, and the sun should have dried them out by now. I’ll run up to the apartment and put a few things in a sack while you enjoy the sunshine.”

  She took a deep breath to relax, and said, “It’s a date.”

  They walked to a spacious flagstone terrace at one end of the hotel. French doors opened onto it from one of the downstairs rooms. Like the rest of the hotel, there was an air of sadness in the terrace’s neglected condition.

  An eerie emptiness echoed with their footsteps as they walked across flat pink stones where scattered puddles of rain remained, but Josh was right about the sun having dried the table and plastic chairs. Stacy could imagine the terrace filled with mingling guests, talking or dancing to soft romantic music. On a clear night, the heavens would be a canopy of stars, soft pine-scented breezes would ruffle the air and—

  Josh broke into her reverie. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  She nodded and gratefully sank down into one of the chairs. As she relaxed in the sunshine, mellowed by the wine she’d sipped, it seemed to her he was back in an unbelievably short time.

  “Have you been dozing?” he teased as he looked down at her.

  “Just daydreaming,” she answered quickly, straightening up and trying to look completely alert.

  He chuckled as he eased down in a chair and set out sandwich makings and a couple of bottles of pop. “I thought about bringing the rest of the wine, but decided against it.”

  She gave him a sheepish grin. “All right, have your fun. I’ll admit that I went a little overboard.”

  “You’re not a drinker, I take it? How about any other vices I should know about?”

  “Too numerous to mention,” she parried. “What about you? How do you stand on wine, women and song?”

  He laughed. “I plead the Fifth on all accounts.”

  “And you’ve never been married?” She tried to make the question light and chatty.

  “Nope. How about you?”

  She was tempted to deny the truth that she’d been through a nightmare that had left her guarded and completely disillusioned, but something about him invited honesty.

  “I came close once,” she admitted. “My prospective groom didn’t quite leave me at the altar, but almost. He died from an overdose at a bachelor party his friends gave him. We’d only known each other for a few months, and I didn’t know he was a closet user.”

  “That must have been rough,” he replied in a way that didn’t embarrass her.

  “It’s not something I’d choose to go through again. My dating record is not what you’d call spectacular. After my mother died, it took me a while to get my head on straight.”

  “What was she like, your mother?”

  “Very supportive. As I was growing up, my mother dated some, but never seemed to consider remarrying. All through the years, we were good friends and enjoyed each other’s company.”

  “You were lucky to have someone like that in your life.”

  She nodded. “When she died of cancer, my life fell apart. I think I was trying to fill it up again when I convinced myself I was in love.” She set her chin. “I know better than to make that kind of mistake again.”

  He wanted to encourage her not to let one disappointment spoil her chance for finding someone who could appreciate the courageous and appealing woman he knew her to be.

  “And what are your plans after you claim your inheritance?” he asked casually.

  “I’ll head back to California. That’s where I was born and raised. I can’t imagine myself living anywhere else.”

  “I guess change doesn’t come easy.”

  “What about you?” She eyed him frankly. “Are you going to settle down with Marci and raise a family?”

  “What makes you ask that?” He looked half amused and half annoyed.

  “From what I’ve seen, she’s ready.”

  “Marci’s been ready since she put on her first bra. She wants to get married in the worst way. I hope she finds the right guy pretty soon and leads him hog-tied to the altar.” He sighed. “I’m not the man for her. I’m not the man for any woman.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I couldn’t even take care of my own sister,” he answered, a bitter twist to his lips. “Glenda might have had a chance to turn out better if she’d had a different brother.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” she demanded. “You’re trying to assuage your guilt with this vendetta of yours?”

  “I’m trying to make sure an S.O.B. is brought to justice. I want to see Renquist dangling from the end of a rope.”

  “They don’t hang people any more,” she reminded him.

  “That’s true…unless I find him first.”

  There was no levity in the promise, and Stacy felt chilled, as if clouds had suddenly masked the warmth of the sun. What did she really know about Josh Spencer? Was he capable of carrying out his own vicious brand of justice? Had his obsession with his sister’s death affected his mental stability? Unanswered questions stirred up feelings of uncertainty and doubt about her own safety.

  “I feel like a nap,” she said as casually as she could, getting to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll head upstairs.”

  He didn’t argue, so she left him sitting there, lost in his own vengeful reverie.

  Chapter Seven

  When Josh went back inside the hotel, he met Stacy coming down the stairs with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “I decided to check out the laundry room,” she answered. “I’ve got my fingers crossed that the washer and dryer are in working condition. Could be that those two appliances were left behind because they were broken. I hate to think about driving into Timberlane every time I want to do a load.”

  He nodded. “I’d better go along with you and check them out. I’m a pretty good repairman, even if I do say so myself. We have a small laundry room for our campers and I’ve learned how to do some simple repairs.”

  Stacy was grateful for his company for more than one reason. She was still uneasy about wandering around the empty building alone, and even though she chided herself for looking over her shoulders all the time, she couldn’t help it. With Josh at her side, she could allow herself to relax a little, and she was glad that his mood seemed to have lightened.

  When they reached the laundry room, he checked to make sure the taps were turned on. He set the washer dial to start, and when the welcome sound of water began to fill the tub, he turned to Stacy and gave her a thumbs-up.

  “It’s all yours. Now if the dryer is working, we’re in business.”

  “Do you have some laundry to do?” she asked, ready to offer to do his.

  “Thanks, but I’ll run a load through later.” He winked at her. “I’m perfectly domesticated, believe it or not.”

  “I believe it,” she answered readily. Just looking at his impressive masculine physique and strong features, she wouldn’t have expected him to know his way around a kitchen as well as a barn, but she’d seen him in action. He handled the challenges of
running a household for two men while being responsible for their livelihood. He gave the word domesticated a new meaning.

  After checking the dryer and finding it okay, Stacy let out a breath of relief and started her load of laundry.

  “While you’re busy here, I’m going to hit Renquist’s office again,” he said. “I want to have a good look around. When you’re through here, why don’t you join me there? Then we can go upstairs together.”

  She knew it was his sensitivity to her feelings that caused him to make the suggestion. She turned away quickly before he could see the threat of grateful tears in her eyes.

  LATER THAT EVENING, after sharing a pizza that Stacy had bought and baked, he returned to his room across the hall, determined to sort through some of Renquist’s records. The contents of the boxes he’d brought up to his room littered the floor, bed and an old walnut dresser. As he sorted through the papers, he was more positive than ever that the hotel had been a front for nefarious dealing. Money had flowed in from somewhere, but the source was carefully hidden.

  If Renquist hadn’t fled in such a hurry, he probably would have disposed of all the records, Josh reasoned.

  It was a fluke that Josh was able to put his hands on any of the documents. He realized that anyone but Stacy’s eccentric uncle would have cleaned out the office and taken over the desk and files. If there had been a computer, either Renquist had taken it with him or looters had carried it off with any other office equipment. In his search so far, Josh found nothing to give him an idea where Renquist might have fled, but he was determined not to give up looking.

  It was nearly midnight when he realized he was too tired to do any more. As he made ready for bed, his mind shifted to the demands of the next day. When Chester and Rob had returned yesterday afternoon with the materials Josh had ordered, he’d showed them which walls he wanted them to start tearing down when they reported for work in the morning.

  The memory of the timber that had nearly fallen on Josh and Stacy’s heads warned him he’d have to make certain the main structure was not damaged in the process. What they didn’t need was a careless accident on top of everything else.