The man’s bullish head swung around. “Who—”
“Lieutenant Sean Rafferty of the Massachusetts State Police. You’re under arrest.”
“Under arrest?” Graves sneered. “For what?”
“Theft, for one. I’m sure there will be other charges.”
“I have every right to be here.”
“And to possess stolen items?”
With a gloating chuckle, the gardener showed his grimy palms. “What have I got in my possession?”
“We’ll worry about semantics later.” Sean approached, keeping an eye on the man’s open hands while staying alert to the possibility of the accomplice sneaking up on him from behind. “I want you flat on the ground, your arms stretched overhead. Don’t fight or you’ll be sorry.”
Graves growled through clenched teeth. Sean reached for his collar.
The gardener lurched toward the abandoned tire iron. Sean yanked him back, using the spade handle like a nightstick to drop the man with one blow behind the knees. He knelt and shoved Graves face-first into the gravel.
“I’m the goddamn gardener!” he bellowed. “Ask Sheffield. Ask Rachel Wells, the housekeeper. She’ll vouch for me.”
“I’m sure she will.” Sean patted the man down, discovering no weapons except a pair of pruners with Connie’s label on them. He kept a knee in the small of Graves’s back to prevent him from getting up.
The gardener struggled against Sean’s control but soon ran out of breath. With a groan, he collapsed in surrender.
Sean called the all-clear to Connie. “I could use some rope.”
He heard Josh volunteer. “I’ll get it.”
At the approaching footsteps, Graves writhed uselessly. He spat with anger as Connie appeared first, her face ghostly pale in the light of the moon. She took in the scene and motioned to Pippa, farther back on the path. “Stay there.”
“But I want to see.”
Sean smiled to himself. “Not right now, Pippa.”
Josh ran up with a length of frayed rope. “From the shed,” he said, panting. “It’s all I could find.”
“It’ll do.” Sean tied Graves’s hands behind his back.
“I’ll have you for illegal arrest.” Graves heaved his upper torso off the ground and flailed a leg that Sean neatly overstepped. The gardener weaved his head back and forth combatively, hooded eyes glaring. The gravel had scraped his weathered face raw on one side.
Connie returned the man’s stare, her posture tense, her fists propped on her hips.
Graves flopped down like a dying fish. “Assault, too,” he grunted into the pebbles.
“You can try,” Sean said.
“Yeah, just try,” boasted Josh.
“Keep an eye on him, son.” Sean walked back to the center area. The fountain was shut off, but the pool of water in the basin gleamed like glass, unbroken by the scuffle. He bent low to examine the spot of hollowed dirt, still not quite believing Graves had been stupid enough to bury stolen goods directly under everyone’s noses. He rubbed the aching wound in his thigh. To what purpose?
Connie edged past Graves with Pippa tucked in behind her. They stared at the shallow hole carved out of the ground.
“That’s it?” Pippa said, clearly disappointed.
Sean scraped at the dirt with the side of the spade. “There’s a metal box in here. Looks to be about two feet wide. Might be a tool box.”
“Can we dig it up?”
“Sorry, Pippa. This is a crime scene. In fact—” he looked at Connie “—you shouldn’t even be here.”
She nodded, nearly as wide-eyed as her daughter. “We’ll go.”
“Just a minute.” Sean went to her and stroked the back of his hand across her cheek. “You did good,” he said.
Pippa tugged at his sleeve. “What about me?”
He ruffled her hair. “You were great. Very brave.”
“We caught a criminal, didn’t we? Just like in my books?”
“Maybe.” Sean glanced in the direction of the “buried treasure.” “We’ll see.”
“What do we do with…?” Connie tilted her head toward Peregrine House.
“We turn her in and let the island police sort things out.”
“Turn who in, Mom?” Pippa asked, just as the housekeeper and the maid burst onto the scene.
“My goodness,” Rachel Wells exclaimed. She shone a flashlight in their faces. “We heard the clamor from the house. What’s going on here?”
The maid, Kitty, gaped. “Is that Graves?”
“He’s a criminal!” Pippa blurted. “I caught him!”
Rachel aimed her flashlight at the overturned bench. Her face went white, but she clamped her mouth shut.
Not incriminating herself, Connie thought. There were still many questions to answer, but already she knew that as long as she lived she’d forever marvel over the fact that she’d once had tea and cookies with a cold-blooded thief.
“GRAVES AND RACHEL WELLS have been in cahoots for quite a while,” Sean said, late the following day. He was sitting at the dining table in the Sheffield guesthouse, speaking to a rapt audience, a beer in hand. With interviews to give to the local sheriff’s department, the Bradfords had wound up extending their stay another twenty-four hours.
“I still can’t quite believe it was her.” Connie stared at her hands, spread on the table. Compared to the previous evening, when she’d appeared furiously, fiercely beautiful to Sean, she was all buttoned up—pinned hair, neat clothes, careful voice. God knew that he, of all people, admired the control, but he was even more glad to know the Connemara beneath—the woman of passion and courage who had stood strong with him when the going got tough. He’d had the idea that opening his life to another person would only be a burden. But that didn’t have to be the case, when they made as strong a team as he and Connie.
“That housekeeper was no Miss Trask,” Pippa said sadly. By now, Sean recognized the comment as a Trixie Belden reference. He supposed he would have to get accustomed to those, until she moved on to more girlish teenage pursuits.
For now, that seemed unlikely. The day had been especially exciting for Pippa. Sean had explained to the Jonesport sheriff about the Book of Curious Observations and Pippa’s part in uncovering the scheme of the Sheffield employees to remove valuable items from the house.
At Pippa’s interview, which had taken place in a room at the Whitecap Inn, the sheriff had asked to see the notebook. He’d studied the entries with due deliberation and had declared himself impressed by her skills. Pippa had blushed with pleasure, leaving Connie to fret about evidence and testimony.
In the end, the sheriff had confided to Sean that neither the notebook nor Pippa would be needed to prove the case. Graves had confessed to both his and Rachel Wells’s roles in the crime.
Sean took a drink of the beer. It had been a long day. “Mrs. Wells’s motives were simple enough,” he said. “Money. Apparently she’s had a hard time making ends meet since the death of her husband. The temptation of all the valuable and essentially ignored items at Peregrine House was too much to resist.”
Connie nodded bleakly.
“Mrs. Wells claimed that Kay was planning to ditch most of the things they’d taken anyway. She felt entitled to help herself.”
While the loot buried in the garden had been only the latest items the larcenous pair had removed from the house over the past months, they still made quite a haul. A small oil painting worth thousands, a miniature scrimshaw boat, several pieces of silver and rare china and the diamond ring that had been the crooked pair’s downfall. While neither of the Sheffields had noticed the gradual disappearance of other items from the house, the missing ring had caused an uproar between the couple. Guessing at her husband’s infidelity with the maid during one of their screaming fights, Kay had accused Kitty of stealing the diamond. Anders had kept her from calling the police to protect his public reputation.
“I do feel for Rachel. She must have been desperate.” Connie gl
anced at the children. “Of course, she was also dead wrong to resort to thievery.”
Sean had pondered how much to tell Josh and Pippa, but he’d decided that it was an important lesson to learn. Maybe the close-up look at the results of breaking the law would put a good scare into his son.
“From what I know, the thefts began not long after the Sheffields hired Mrs. Wells as their housekeeper. At first, she took only minor items, passing them to Graves to pawn. Eventually, they got more greedy.” Sean rested his elbows on the table. “The cops have a job on their hands, trying to identify everything that’s missing. Since Sheffield used the house so infrequently, even after his current marriage, he was oblivious to the losses.”
“Then they weren’t burying the things all along?” Connie asked.
“Because that was really stupid,” Josh said.
Sean explained. “No, Graves had always been able to smuggle things out among his gardening tools. But a couple of days before the garden party, Mrs. Sheffield noticed that one of her diamond rings was missing. The house was in a furor, with all the employees under suspicion. And there was the latest haul, stowed in an old tool box in the back of Graves’s pickup, the diamond included. He’d planned to hide the things somewhere on the estate and come back for the box when the situation wasn’t so hot, but he claimed that he couldn’t get away from you—” Sean nodded at Connie “—long enough. You’d ordered him to finish laying the gravel in the maze, so finally he just buried the box there, knowing the spot would be covered in the gravel. A bad decision, but he was afraid of being caught with the stuff red-handed. Remember, the estate was already swarming with workers preparing for that night’s cocktail party.”
Connie gasped. “And so he’s been trying to get back and dig it up ever since. Except we were always foiling him! Or, rather, Pippa was.”
Pippa wriggled with barely contained glee. “I knew he was up to no good.”
Connie grinned wryly at Sean. “While you and I were distracted by the Sheffields and their marital spats.”
“Our suspicions weren’t totally off-base. After their last, um, disagreement, Mrs. Sheffield did leave the island kind of abruptly.” Sean tapped his eye, indicating to Connie that she had been bruised. “Mr. Sheffield admitted that, to explain his wife’s sudden absence, he arranged to escort Jillian Crosby to the yacht in hopes that she’d be mistaken for his wife.” Sean scoffed. “He was still concerned with saving face, particularly in front of his remaining houseguests.”
“I’m just glad it’s over and we’re all in one piece.” Connie pushed away from the table. “There is bad news, however. It’s dinnertime and there’s nothing left in the house to eat.”
“There’s not much at my place, either,” Sean said. “I didn’t remember to pick anything up.”
“Man, and I’m starving,” Josh said.
“I’m not much a dad if I can’t remember to feed my kid.”
“Nonsense,” Connie said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve had other things on your mind.”
“I did hear that there’s a clambake going on at the beach, sponsored by the inn. What do you say? We could go and have a special dinner out in honor of your last night on the island.” He took Connie’s hand and raised it to his lips, not even minding when Josh sheeshed and Pippa giggled. “You’re still planning to leave tomorrow? I can’t persuade you to stay awhile longer?”
“I think we’ve imposed on Mr. Sheffield long enough.” Connie chuckled. “He’ll probably be relieved to see the last of us.”
“Rude of him,” Sean murmured, “considering everything you did.” Already he was thinking ahead, to getting some real private time with Connie. No children, no criminals, no sorrow, no regret. Only the two of them and a future that would become brighter and stronger with every kiss.
Connie’s eyes were locked on his, liquid with desire. She squeezed his fingers.
“Jeepers!” Pippa’s shrill exclamation made them pull apart. She put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “I just realized—Mr. Sheffield should give me a reward. Trixie always gets one!”
Connie reached over to stroke her daughter’s hair. “Don’t worry, Pippa. I believe we’re leaving Osprey Island with something a lot more valuable than a monetary reward.” She included Josh in her smile, and her intent was so sweet and generous that not even he could scoff at the sentiment.
Sean’s thoughts went briefly to the fatal shooting before he pushed the incident away. He would never forget what had happened and how the lives of innocents had been irrevocably altered. But it—all the events of his life leading up to this moment—had not only brought him to Connie, but back to his son, as well.
This is worth it. Worth the risk. He looked at them, Josh and Connie and brave little Pippa, his heart bursting with love. This is worth everything.
THE NEXT MORNING, Connie and Sean stood at the railing of the ferry, watching Osprey Island diminish to a blue-green hump on the ocean horizon. “I wonder if we’ll ever be back.”
“Together? We will.” His gaze remained level even when the ferry pitched beneath their feet. He lowered his eyes to Connie’s face and smiled. “I can’t think of a better place for a…vacation.”
She blinked, certain that his hesitation had been deliberate. The only other fitting word that sprang to her mind was honeymoon.
You’re getting ahead of yourself. She turned her head to follow the island, her hair whipping in the wind. It might be advisable to go on a real date before you start thinking marriage.
“How far is Holden again?” she said.
“Just a hundred miles or so.” He leaned down to put his elbows on the rail. “But I swear the distance is getting shorter every time I think about being away from you.”
“Shorter! It seems longer and longer to me.”
“Shorter,” he repeated. “I can drive it in a snap.”
“Well. Good.” They couldn’t seem to stop looking at each other. “And thanks for taking the ferry with us.” She hugged herself. “It delays the goodbye just a little while longer.”
“I was thinking about Josh.” Sean glanced to where his son sat on a bench, trying to listen to his iPod while Pippa chattered away, brandishing her notebook and pen. “He needs a video-game fix real bad, and there’s an arcade in Jonesport.”
Connie nodded, though her gaze had lingered on her daughter. She was thrilled that Pippa had her spirit back, even if dealing with the consequences of her reinforced enthusiasm for detecting might not always be easy.
Unless they had a statie on their side. She looked at Sean again, her mouth curving at the thought of having him as a part of their life. They would find a way to make it work.
“Oh, all right,” he said, teasing her a little. “You had something to do with getting me on the ferry. I’ve gotten to like having you around.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a small shake. “You’d better not revert to your solitary ways after we’re gone. As soon as the rest of your vacation is over, I’m expecting a call.”
“You’ll have it. If I didn’t need the time alone with Josh, I’d probably be following you home today.”
Sean opened his arms and she went into them, clinging to his solidness and warmth, her safe haven among the pitching deck and the bobbing waves and the throbbing engine.
“You stick with Josh,” she said. “I can wait.”
“I can’t.” With his arms wrapped around her, Sean tilted back his head and let out a moan, lifting her off her heels as he did. “Damn if I haven’t been hoisted on my own petard. I came here to be left alone and now the only leaving I’ll do is with a heavy heart.” He set her down and took her face in his hands, kissed her through her wind-ruffled hair. “I promise, Connie, we’ve got plenty of good times to come.”
“But next time less heroics required, okay?”
“Don’t start with that. I did nothing extraordinary. I’m nobody’s—”
She stopped him wit
h a kiss. “You’re mine, Sean.” The true courage and honor of heroes came in many forms. Philip Bradford had been her first. She hadn’t expected to find another so soon.
“You’re my hero, and don’t you ever forget it.”
Pippa Bradford’s Book of Curious Observations
MOM IS KISSING MR. RAFFERTY again. Maybe that’s not too gross after all. Kind of, but I can get used to it if I try. I think he’s going to be my stepfather, but Dad said I should be happy for Mom if that ever happened and he knew that it didn’t mean we would ever forget him, so that’s okay. The only thing is that then Josh would be my stepbrother. GLEEPS!!! But I can even get used to him if I really, really have to.
I wonder if my dad can see me now. I bet he can, and he’s proud of me for solving the Mystery of the Midnight Maze just as good as Trixie.
Today’s Curious Observations: I guess I forgot to make any, so I’d better get started.
1. There’s a man in an overcoat with a briefcase standing alone by the railing. I think he’s the same one I saw coming to the island on the same day as Mr. Rafferty. That is curious. I wonder if he’s a spy?
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1962-9
NOBODY’S HERO
Copyright © 2008 by Carrie Antilla.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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