More Than Great Riches

by Jan Washburn

She was startled by a knock at the front door. That couldn’t be Leif already. It wasn’t quite three o’clock. She made a last quick check of her appearance and hurried downstairs to open the door. With Leif’s warnings ringing in her head, she left the chain in place.

  The middle-aged man on her doorstep was tall and painfully thin with a smattering of scraggly salt and pepper hair. A scar that ran down his cheek from his eyebrow to his chin shouted Danger.

  Tracy’s heartbeat accelerated. Forcing her voice around the lump of panic in her throat, she managed to speak. Can I help you?

  Yes, Ma’am. The man gave her a toothless grin. I hear you got a car for sale—a ’74 Ford Galaxie, but I ain’t seen it around for a while.

  Tracy felt a faint glimmer of relief. He sounded so reasonable and matter of fact. But the break-in was still fresh in her mind. She needed to stay on alert. This could be a ruse to gain entry into her house. She looked past him to the rusted out Chevy he parked in her driveway. The car is not for sale, she explained. She started to close the door.

  The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Can I take a look at it? I could probably make you a right good offer, he wheedled. What about ten thousand dollars?

  Tracy stared at him. Why would someone pay that kind of money for an old car destined for the glue factory? I’m sorry, but it’s not for sale, she repeated. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m late for work. Quickly she closed the door and threw the deadbolt.

  But the man didn’t move. His voice came through the door. I’d still like to look it over. What would you say to fifteen thousand?

  Fifteen thousand! He had to mean fifteen hundred. With fifteen thousand dollars she could buy a late model used car and have money left over. But this was ridiculous. The man didn’t look as though he had fifteen dollars, let alone fifteen thousand.

  My car is in the shop for repairs, she called. I do not wish to sell it and that’s final. She waited quietly behind the door, hoping her silence would convince him to give up and go away.

  After several minutes passed, she moved cautiously into the living room where she peered through the sheer curtains to get a view of the front yard. Apparently the man still stood on her doorstep. His battered car was still in the driveway.

  She made a quick mental search of the house, trying to think of something to use as a weapon if he made an attempt to break in. The only thing that came to mind was the old tried and true standby—a rolling pin.

  She glanced anxiously up at the clock. Five more minutes. Hurry up, Leif, she whispered. I could use some reinforcements.

  ****

  Leif frowned as he approached Tracy’s house. Why was that broken down heap parked in her driveway? Although her front door was firmly closed, a man stood on her doorstep. Leif knew he had never seen this character before.

  Easing off on the accelerator, he rolled slowly past the house, sizing up the stranger. Was this the notorious Rick Timmons trying to contact his accomplice in crime, Tracy Dixon?

  He pounded a fist on the steering wheel. Just when I started to believe her.

  But Detective Diaz said Timmons was well built. This guy looked as though he had been on a hunger strike. And unless Timmons was a master of disguise, no one would accuse this man of being good-looking.

  Without hesitation Leif swung a one-eighty and rolled to a stop in front of Tracy’s home. Startled, the stranger glanced over his shoulder. One glimpse of Leif and he made a fast about face, beating a hasty retreat to his car. Before Leif opened his door, the man revved his engine and backed out of the driveway.

  Automatically Leif jotted down the license plate number as the old Chevy took off toward town in a cloud of exhaust. He marched grimly to the front door. Now let’s see what this is all about.

  His knock was much heavier than necessary. Tracy, it’s Leif. Are you ready to go?

  Instantly Tracy opened the door. She stood there looking pale and shaken, but her chin was up in that Don’t tread on me look. Still he knew her well enough by now to sense that she was frightened. He ached to pull her into his arms, but his brain took charge.

  I’m ready. Her voice was husky. I’ll get my purse.

  Leif forced himself to wait until they were settled in the SUV before he questioned her. He sat behind the wheel without starting the engine. Tell me about it. He studied her face for signs of guilt. All he could see was the lingering fear.

  Leif, I was scared. She clasped her hands in her lap as though to stop their trembling. I don’t know who that awful man was, but he said he wanted to buy my car. I can’t believe he offered to pay fifteen thousand dollars for it.

  Fifteen thousand! Leif exploded. Either he’s totally insane or he’s playing some crooked game.

  Tracy nodded. She seemed to be recovering her composure. I knew that didn’t make sense. I don’t believe it was the car he really wanted. Do you think he’s the man who broke into my house?

  Sorting through the possibilities, Leif turned on the ignition. I got his tag number. Maybe that will tell us something. The fingerprints we took after the break-in were no help. All the prints Will lifted were either yours or Jeff’s.

  I’m ashamed to be such a wimp, she apologized, but that break-in left me hanging on by my fingernails.

  A stranger would be terrifying to a woman alone in an isolated house that had just been invaded by a burglar. That would drive anyone over the edge. You should get a dog.

  Tracy managed a half-hearted laugh. You sound like Maggie.

  Maggie’s a smart lady, he reminded her.

  As they drove through town, he sensed her uneasiness. He needed to take her mind off her strange visitor. Can we drive into Boston Tuesday to see Jeff?

  Leif, she protested, you don’t have to play chauffeur anymore. I should have my car back Wednesday.

  I’m not just playing chauffeur. I want to check on Jeff again. It doesn’t make sense for us to drive to Boston in separate cars. What he didn’t say was, I enjoy being with you.

  She hesitated. You’re right. I just pray there’s some sign of improvement. It’s so disheartening to see him lying there, barely alive.

  Just try to remember that sense of peace we felt the last time we were there. I know God was telling us that Jeff would come through this. His words seemed to have the right effect. She sank back in her seat.

  Did you find Jeff’s auto insurance information for Bradford? He watched for her reaction to the mention of the lawyer’s name.

  Yes, I found the policy. I need to drop it off at his office. Judge Whitby, the guardian ad litem, came to interview me Friday afternoon. I have a feeling he’s not going to recommend me to be Jeff’s conservator. I’m afraid I’ll have to keep on putting up with Keith.

  Leif suppressed a smile of satisfaction. So she didn’t enjoy dealing with Bradford. That was a plus. He breathed easier as he turned the SUV into the parking lot at Fisherman’s Landing. It was crowded on Easter Sunday afternoon. He drove as close as possible to the employees’ side door entrance.

  Tracy gave him a grateful smile. He felt that smile all the way down to his boots.

  Thanks for the millionth time, Leif. Maggie will pick me up after work. I won’t need taxi service much longer.

  Leif felt a jab of regret—not because that would reduce his chances of keeping an official eye on her, but because driving Tracy anywhere brightened his day. You know you’re always welcome.

  By the way, she teased, if you’re considering a career change, you can give Yellow Cab my name as a reference.

  You’re so kind, he retorted as she climbed down from her seat. I’ll see you Tuesday.

  He waited as she disappeared into the restaurant. He was a coward. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Tracy that he turned down the court’s request to act as Jeff Dixon’s guardian ad litem. Of course, he didn’t really know Tracy then. He had just met her, but he felt he was too personally involved with the family. Conducting a fair and impartial investigation wasn’t possible. Based on hard
cold facts, along with the rumors that circulated around her, how could he recommend her to the court?

  So, Judge Whitby had taken on the job. The judge would have to be the one to shoot down her hopes.

  Tracy Dixon, he thought, you’ve got me going in circles. I want to believe in you. Are you really an angel or just the best actress in Plymouth County?

  More than Great Riches

  CHAPTER IX

  Tracy hesitated on the doorstep of Keith’s office. Maggie dropped her off, but she would be back as soon as she filled her gas tank. If Tracy was in luck today, Keith would be out of the office. She had grown tired of fending off his amorous advances. She wanted to leave Jeff’s auto insurance policy with his secretary and make a fast getaway.

  She rang the bell and pulled the door open at the sound of the buzzer. Miss Collins sat at her desk busily typing on her computer. There was no sign of her boss.

  Hallelujah. Tracy gave the secretary a cheerful grin as she laid the insurance policy on her desk. These papers are for Mr. Bradford.

  Oh, Miss Dixon, let me tell him you’re here.

  No, no, that’s not necessary. Tracy backed away. Just be sure that he ...

  She stopped in mid-sentence as the door to Keith’s inner office swung open. She recognized the attractive woman who emerged - Keith’s wife, Louise, with Keith right behind her.

  Mrs. Bradford’s face was on fire. Do you ever stop to consider the consequences of your flirtations? she snapped at Keith in an angry whisper. Do you think you can win reelection if Senator Morris finds you’ve been making eyes at his wife?

  Now, Louise that was just a little harmless fun. Keith whined like a child who had to put away his toys.

  Tracy stood frozen, embarrassed to be eavesdropping on a family squabble. But the quarrel came to a sudden halt as they noticed her presence. Their whole demeanor underwent a dramatic transformation.

  Keith put on his dedicated attorney face. Tracy, I didn’t realize you were here. I think you know my wife, Louise.

  Somehow Tracy dredged up a response. Yes, but we’ve never been formally introduced. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bradford.

  It was obvious that Louise Bradford was a politician’s daughter. No one would guess that she had just been launching a tirade at her wayward husband. She gave Tracy a radiant smile and took her hand. Oh, you’re the girl with the beautiful voice. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your song on Easter. Reverend Edwards should insist that you sing a solo every Sunday.

  Thank you. You’re very kind. Tracy felt as though she had stumbled into No Man’s Land, caught between two battling armies. She only hoped to make a graceful exit.

  I’m sorry that I have to run, but my friend is waiting for me. Keith, I left Jeff’s insurance policy with Miss Collins.

  Good, wonderful! he exclaimed, as though she had just reported some marvelous accomplishment. I’ll get right on it.

  Goodbye for now. She tried not to break into a run as she headed for the door.

  Maggie waved to her from the cab of the old pickup parked at the curb. Tracy strolled down the walk with all the dignity she could muster. Did Louise Bradford know that Keith had once been her fiancé? She hoped Louise never discovered that Keith had been forcing his attentions on her. Mrs. Bradford would never want to hear her sing another note in church again.

  ****

  Jeff’s condition seemed unchanged as Tracy and Leif stood gazing through the glass wall into his sterile prison. Tracy studied Jeff’s face. Had the swelling lessened just a bit, or was she seeing what she wanted to see instead of reality?

  Oh, Jeff, open your eyes or say something. A single tear rolled slowly down her cheek. She reached for Leif’s hand. In spite of all her good intentions, she needed his strength. She couldn’t see any sign of improvement.

  But Dr. Burrows was smiling as he joined them at the window. Tracy dashed away the tear. Please have some good news.

  Miss Dixon, I’m very encouraged about your brother’s progress. As you know we’ve done extensive skin grafts—his back, his legs, his arm, and his hands. We were able to use skin from his scalp and other areas that weren’t damaged. It appears that at least ninety percent of the skin grafts have adhered.

  Tracy’s spirits soared. Oh, bless you, doctor. That’s wonderful.

  We’re still keeping him in a coma, but he seems a little more responsive now. The next step is to take him to the tank to remove the burned tissue. That will promote the healing.

  Tracy was sure she must be glowing like a candle. Thank you, Lord. Thank you .

  Leif squeezed her hand. He looked as though a load had been lifted from his shoulders. He kept his feelings to himself, but Tracy suspected that inside he was suffering as much as she was.

  She held tight to his hand as they stood in silence, just watching Jeff’s immobile figure. Finally—a ray of hope. The first good news they had heard since the accident.

  She was floating on a cloud as they returned to Leif’s car. I needed to hear that. Her joy bubbled over. Even though we both felt God told us Jeff would be all right, I was getting so discouraged.

  Leif nodded agreement. It’s hard to wait for an answer to prayer.

  The sky was overcast with dull gray clouds hanging low on the horizon, but the world was beautiful. Tracy hummed a hymn to herself as they started the trip back to Allerton, O What A Wonderful, Wonderful Day.

  Go ahead and sing it out loud, he urged.

  She burst into full voice, putting her whole heart into the song. It expressed everything she was feeling. Shadows dispelling, with joy I am telling, He made all the darkness depart.

  Leif watched her with an amused smile. You really love music.

  She didn’t have to mull over her answer. Music makes me feel closer to God.

  So are you going to organize the handbell choir?

  I couldn’t resist. The church council gave me permission to order everything I need— some simple music, mallets, gloves for the ringers. Some of the ladies are going to make pads for the tables. And four people had already volunteered to ring before I made up my mind to do it.

  He laughed. That sounds like an ambitious project. Can you handle all that?

  She was probably out of her mind to take on a bell choir, but she was looking forward to it. If I don’t keep my mind occupied, I just sit and worry about Jeff.

  Where did you learn to play bells?

  Tracy suspected Leif might be asking questions just to be polite, but he seemed genuinely interested. My church in New York had a handbell choir, and I fell in love with ringing.

  How many ringers do you need?

  Thirteen or fourteen people can usually handle five octaves of bells. She eyed his broad shoulders and muscular arms. You know I could use a couple of husky men for the biggest bells. How about giving it a try?

  Leif looked startled. I don’t read music very well, he confessed. I learn my part in the choir anthems by ear.

  Not to worry. I know a way to make it easy for you to read the notes you’d be playing.

  Maybe I could work it into my schedule. He was definitely hedging.

  Nag, nag. Tracy felt as pushy as a snake oil salesman, but she really needed some serious muscle in the group. The big bells got awfully heavy after an hour of rehearsal. We’ll be practicing the bells while Mark and Luke are at youth choir rehearsal. You’re usually at church then anyway.

  I’ll think about it, he grunted.

  Suddenly, without warning, Leif slammed on the brakes. Tracy’s head snapped forward as she was thrown against her seat belt. Stunned, she turned to stare at him.

  His eyes were fixed on a spot off the road in the trees at the foot of an embankment. She turned her head. She could see it too—the rear bumper of a car, barely visible in the underbrush. A car had swerved off the road, swallowed up by the trees.

  He was already halfway out the door. I need to check this out, he called over his shoulder, running and sliding down the embankment.

&n
bsp; On the edge of her seat she watched as Leif disappeared into the woods. Drawing a deep breath, she felt a sudden jab of pain in her side. The seat belt had probably saved her from being thrown through the windshield, but it clamped around her ribs like a vise.

  In minutes Leif raced back up the slope, unmindful of his bad leg. He snatched up his cell phone and punched in 911. She trembled with tension, but he was as calm and unemotional as if he were ordering groceries.

  Send troopers and an ambulance to southbound I-495, just south of Route 24. Car off the road in the trees. Woman unconscious at the wheel. Baby crying somewhere in the car. We’ll need the jaws of life.