by Leona Karr
He hid his smile. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“You could take one with me,” she offered with a boldness that surprised her. This time last evening they’d been dancing in each other’s arms and headed for a night of bliss.
“I could,” he agreed, “but I like you fully awake when I make love to you.”
If she hadn’t been floating away in a haze of alcohol she would have argued. He kept his arm around her as they walked up the stairs to the apartment.
He kissed her lightly and turned her toward the bedroom with a promise that he’d be quiet while she slept.
She undressed and put on a Japanese-style kimono that she’d bought in Chinatown. Preparing to slip into bed, she pulled back the covers and nearly fainted.
A red silk gown was carefully stretched out in her bed, like a living person waiting there. A sweet scent of familiar perfume rose to greet her.
She screamed as her knees buckled and the floor came up to meet her.
Chapter Thirteen
Josh heard Stacy’s cry and ran into the bedroom. When he saw her collapsed on the floor, his first thought was she’d passed out from too many drinks. He picked her up and didn’t look at the bed until he started to lay her down on it. Then he froze in sickened disbelief.
The sight of the red silk nightgown hit him like a stab to the stomach. He recognized it in an instant. Glenda had ordered the garment from a mail-order catalogue the summer before she left home. Her perfume taunted him with the recognition as he backed away from the bed.
He could almost hear his sister’s teasing laughter following them as he carried Stacy out of the apartment, across the hall, and laid her down on his narrow bed. Like a whimpering child caught in the throes of a nightmare she clung to him.
“It’s all right, darling,” he soothed, even as he struggled to calm the turbulence in his own mind.
“You saw it? In my bed? She’s come back, hasn’t she?” Her voice rose on the edge of hysteria. “Glenda will never let you go, never!”
“Stop it.” He put firm hands on her shoulders and shook her slightly. “Get hold of yourself. It wasn’t Glenda’s ghost that put the gown in your bed,” he growled. “Someone wanted to scare the hell out of you, and when I find out who, he’ll feel my hands around his neck.”
Stacy swallowed hard to keep from babbling hysterically. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight. The shock of finding the dead woman’s clothes in her bed had thrown her completely off-balance. Her head was reeling, her thoughts fuzzy. Even Josh’s assurance wasn’t enough to settle the hurricane of emotions sweeping through her.
“Someone is desperate to convince you my sister’s ghost is haunting this hotel. If you get scared enough, you’ll leave. Just like the ribbons—”
“And the hairbrush,” she added in a choked voice.
“What hairbrush?”
She remembered then she hadn’t told him. “I found one in the bathroom drawer this afternoon. The bristles were snagged with long black hair, just like your sister’s.” The unsettling memory of holding a dead woman’s hairbrush in her hands made her shiver.
“So someone planted both the nightgown and the brush?” Josh frowned.
“I know that drawer was empty earlier. Someone must have been in the apartment while we spent the night in Pineville.”
Josh swore. “Damn that locksmith! This could have been avoided if he’d gotten his butt in gear and changed the locks. Why didn’t you tell me about the brush before now?”
“Because you were so uptight when you came back with the coroner, you didn’t give me a chance.” She lifted her head from his chest. “What are you keeping from me? You went up on the mountain with Hawkins and came back a different person. What did you find that you’re not telling me?”
“I decided it would be best to wait until—”
“No, please tell me. The way you’ve been acting frightens me. Something’s wrong, I know it is. Why won’t you let me help you?”
There was an appeal in her eyes when she looked at him that he couldn’t ignore. Even though he still thought it best to wait until Hawkins confirmed that it was Renquist who had been shot and buried on the mountain, he gave in and told her everything.
Stacy stared at him in total shock. “Renquist is dead? His body was in that grave?”
“The coroner will have to verify it,” Josh answered shortly.
“But you’re convinced? And that means…” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes,” he said bitterly. “It means I’ve been intent on tracking down a man who’s been in his grave since the night Glenda fell to her death. I’ve been chasing a dead man. And the broken watch is, undoubtedly, evidence that he was killed the night of Glenda’s death.”
Stacy heard the bitter frustration in his voice and tried to console him. “But how would you know that?”
“I was so blinded by my hatred of the man, I didn’t even bother to look in a different direction.”
“Then, maybe Glenda jumped from the balcony, after all. She might have been trying to get away from the person who shot Renquist,” Stacy suggested softly, hoping to ease the torment in his face. Maybe Josh would find some peace and let go of the vendetta that had been driving him.
“No.” He flatly rejected Stacy’s suggestion. “My sister never would have taken her own life. She must have been thrown from the balcony either before Renquist was shot or afterward.” His mouth tightened. “When I find out why, then I’ll know who.”
With a sinking heart, Stacy knew then Josh’s search was not over, it had just changed directions. He was still as driven as ever.
“Is that why you wanted to talk with the sheriff?” she asked. Now, the pointed questions he’d asked Abe about the sheriff made sense. “Do you think he knows what really happened that night?”
“That’s what I aim to find out,” Josh answered grimly. “All of this is connected somehow. Using Glenda’s things to haunt you is a part of it. Thanks to Mosley’s report, the hotel was never treated as a crime scene.” Josh swallowed hard. “And the sheriff might be trying to keep it that way.”
It was clear to Stacy where Josh was headed in his thinking. He must think Mosley had something to do with Renquist’s death. And maybe Glenda’s. She couldn’t even begin to imagine his warring emotions, but she wanted to warn him not to replace one vendetta with another one.
She reached up and gently stroked his cheek. What a difference twenty-four hours could make. Last night she lay contented in his arms, filled with sensuous dreams and not nightmares.
“I think we’ve had enough thrown at us for one day,” she said softly. “Do you think this bed is big enough for both of us?”
The lines in his face eased as he drew her close and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I guess there’s only way one to find out.”
THE NIGHT THEY SPENT sleeping together was different than the one they’d spent at the motel, and in some ways more fulfilling. Their caresses were gentler, kisses less fierce, and the mounting ecstasy of their union was measured in a slower giving and taking.
Josh couldn’t believe that in these circumstances he’d found a woman he could love beyond measure. He was already filled with a sense of loss as he listened to the rhythm of her breathing and felt the sweet warmth of her body as she slept beside him. There was no promise of tomorrow. What they had shared was of the moment, born of tension and danger.
If he had his way she’d leave immediately. He knew that only her stubborn courage had kept her here this long. He feared that if the recent scare tactics failed to dislodge her from the hotel, the unseen tormenter might resort to physical harm. Just thinking that she might be another victim of this evil place sent a bone-deep chill through him.
THE FAINT LIGHT OF a new morning edged the window curtains when Josh awoke with Stacy’s warm body curled back against his. Although he was tempted to linger and nibble some wake-up kisses on her ear, he restrained himself. There were too many demands and not enough ti
me.
Josh slipped out of bed and went across the hall to the apartment. He made a pot of coffee and took it down to the hotel kitchen. He was poring over the drawings Willard had left when Chester and Rob showed up.
“We working today, boss?”
“Yep,” Josh answered curtly. “And every day from now on until we get the place the way I want it.”
Rob scowled belligerently at Josh. “We ain’t going to do nothing if we don’t get paid for yesterday and the half day before.”
Josh’s pent-up anger and tension needed a release, and Rob was asking for it. He was ready to shove the threat down the man’s thick throat and throw him out the door with a punctuating kick in the rear when Chester intervened.
“We can talk about wages later, come payday, boss.” Chester was smart enough to read Josh’s mood, and he shot Rob a shut-up look.
“All right. Let’s get started,” Josh said briskly. “First of all, you need to carry in more paneling. I want both the north and south walls finished today.” He landed on the word with emphasizing force.
Josh stayed with them until he was sure they knew how to match the panel sections and nail them in place. Then he went upstairs and found Stacy still asleep. He smiled at the way her slender body was curled up like a contented child. Unexpected emotion washed over him. He’d never loved someone so totally and completely. I have to keep her safe, he told himself. She deserved the money her uncle had left her and the chance to find a new life for herself.
He turned and left the room, wanting to get rid of the nightgown before Stacy woke up. Everything in her room was just as they’d left it. Quickly, he stuffed the red nightgown in a bag to dispose of later, made the bed, and opened a window to dispel the faint odor of lingering perfume.
“Josh?”
He heard her call his name, and he hurried across the hall to his room. Stacy was sitting up, holding her head.
“Oh, oh,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “A hangover?”
She groaned. “Someone’s playing a bongo drum at the back of my head.” Then she lowered her hands and squinted at him. “I’m never going to take another drink in my life, I swear.”
He chuckled as he bent over and kissed her forehead. “I’ve made that vow a few times in my life. What you need is Josh Spencer’s remedy for a one-too-many-drinks headache. A couple of aspirins, a mug of black coffee and then raw egg in tomato juice.”
“Ugh. I don’t feel that bad.”
He laughed at her grimace. “All right. I’ll see about the coffee and aspirin.” He paused. “Chester and Roy are here and I’ve put them to work. And I’ve taken care of the bedroom so you can go back to the apartment any time.”
He watched the color drain from her face. Maybe she’d had enough? The shock of finding Glenda’s nightgown in her bed might be the turning point. Even as he wanted her to get as far from this place as she could, he felt a part of himself withering at the thought of her leaving.
“Thank you, but I really think I can handle almost anything now. Once the shock wears off, I just feel anger that someone is tormenting me like this.”
He knew then the thought of running away hadn’t crossed her mind. A mixture of relief and fear swept through him as he escorted her back to the apartment and she disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower and dress.
Josh glanced at his watch. It was still too early for Mosley to be at the office. The sheriff usually wandered in about ten o’clock, and Josh was determined to be there when he showed up.
Stacy seemed content to lounge around the apartment, and Chester and Rob were hard at work in the party room. Just before Josh was about to leave for Timberlane, the Pineville locksmith showed up.
He was an older man with gray hair and stooped shoulders. He moved with a slowness that instantly put Josh’s nerves on edge. He acted as if there was all the time in the world to take care of the doors that Josh pointed out, and only gave a low grunt in response to Josh’s urgency that they all should be done that day.
Josh kissed Stacy goodbye and promised he’d be back before noon. He made her promise that she would not leave the premises while he was gone. With three men in the hotel, she’d have plenty of people moving around.
Driving into Timberlane, Josh was oblivious to the beauty of the morning. Usually, he found peace in lingering drifts of low clouds and the warmth of sunlight deepening the rich tones of green and brown in the surrounding mountainsides, but as he kept his eyes on the road, a leaden feeling held little promise for the new day.
When he pulled into the small parking lot behind the sheriff’s office, he was glad to see Mosley’s official car parked there. Taking a deep breath, he marched into the waiting room, and tipped his hat to Irene sitting at her desk.
“Morning,” he greeted her pleasantly. “Hard at work, I see.”
“Or hardly working,” she quipped with a smile. “You’re about bright and early.”
“I need to have a few words with the sheriff.”
“Oh, he isn’t here at the moment,” she said. “He popped in for a couple of minutes and then headed over to the Pantry for breakfast.” She glanced at her watch. “He’s been gone about a half hour. Should be back anytime, I’d guess, if you want to wait.”
“No, I think I’ll catch him there.”
It figured, Josh thought as he crossed the street. Mosley kept a gentleman’s work hours and spent most of them eating or drinking. He was sitting at a corner table with Ted and Alice when Josh walked in. He could tell from the expressions on their faces that they weren’t talking about the weather.
He’s told them about finding the grave.
Without waiting for an invitation, Josh pulled up a chair and sat down with them. “What’s new, Sheriff?” he asked in a flippant tone.
Before Mosley could answer, Alice said breathlessly, “The sheriff was just telling us about the grave you found on the mountain. How awful, Josh. Who in the world could have buried someone like that?”
“Any ideas, Sheriff?” Josh prodded, as if putting spurs to a horse.
Mosley glared at Josh as if he’d like to bash him across the mouth. “I expect we’ll know soon enough,” he snapped. “Hawkins is supposed to call today and bring me up to date about what they know so far.”
“What did they find at the grave, Josh?” Ted asked, ignoring the sheriff’s mutterings.
Josh knew he probably shouldn’t say anything until the coroner talked to the sheriff, but he couldn’t resist dropping the bombshell. “Malo Renquist.”
The three of them looked totally stunned. Josh couldn’t tell whether the sheriff’s shocked expression was for real or a great imitation.
“Oh my God, Josh,” Alice gasped in a choked voice. “It can’t be.” The way she looked at him, Josh had the weird feeling that she thought he was responsible. All the threats he’d made against the man must have been flashing in her mind.
Ted must have been thinking along the same lines. “How long has Renquist been dead?”
“Hawkins won’t be sure until they do some tests,” Josh replied, deciding not to share the information about the broken watch. “But he thinks the body’s been there a couple years.”
Mosley’s eyes held a glimmer of satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, now, if that don’t beat all? You’re a pretty clever fellow, Josh. All the fuss you’ve been raising about finding Renquist could be nothing more than a smoke screen. Hell, you might have known where he was all along.”
“Oh, no,” Alice said, putting an agitated hand to her face. “You didn’t, Josh?”
Ted stared at Josh as if trying to decide if the sheriff could be right even as he chided his wife. “Of course not, Alice.”
Josh was startled at their reaction. Even though they’d always made it clear to him that they thought his fixation on finding Renquist was a touch of madness, surely they didn’t believe he’d been trying to hide his own guilt all this time?
Defensively, he turned the spotl
ight on the sheriff. “Let’s look at it a different way, folks. The law didn’t go after Renquist because there wasn’t need. Doesn’t make any sense chasing a dead man, does it, Mosley?”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then the sheriff lurched out of his chair, knocking it over. “What in the hell are you suggesting?” His fists were clenched and anger sparked fire in his eyes. “Spit it out before I bloody your lips so bad you can’t talk.”
Even before the sheriff’s chair hit the floor, Josh had been on his feet. He’d been in a few physical altercations and he wasn’t afraid to use his fists when he had to. He’d been wanting to clobber Mosley for a long time, and Josh’s ready stance invited the sheriff to take the first swing.
“Why so defensive, Mosley?” he taunted.
A ripple of excitement shot through the restaurant. People began moving back out of the way. Alice looked ready to try and separate the men herself.
“No fighting in here,” Ted snapped. “Take it outside.”
“After you, Sheriff.” Josh nodded at the door.
Mosley’s hand dropped purposefully to his holster. “I ought to take you in for disturbing the peace,” he growled.
“Want to try?”
The sheriff flexed his hand but didn’t draw his gun. The stalemate lasted for about thirty seconds, then he growled, “You better watch your damn mouth, Spencer. I’ll lock you up if you go around shooting off a bunch of lies.”
“And I’ll have your badge if you try to hang Renquist’s murder on me,” Josh replied, just as threateningly.
“That’s enough!” Ted snapped. “Both of you can get the hell out of my place and take your beef somewhere else.”
Mosley gave Josh one last threatening look, kicked the overturned chair out of the way, and stomped out of the café. As audible sighs of relief and low murmurings rippled through the room, Josh sat back down again.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized.
“No problem,” Ted said, glaring out the window at the sheriff’s retreating broad back. “That guy would get anybody riled up.”