by Ann Yost
Daisy fought a sense of profound admiration. Nick had lost his home and his future but he’d pulled himself together and pursued a dream. Just the way Theo had. The old man must have been proud of his grandson’s hard work, his courage and his persistence.
Suddenly, she knew she’d been right about Theo. He hadn’t disowned his step-grandson. He’d set him free so Nick would have a chance to find success on his own terms. The old man must have expected the Prodigal Son to return. How sad it had happened too late.
But perhaps it had to be that way.
“Did you ever get hurt?”
“Just a few broken bones. I’ve been lucky.”
“Did you get a cast? What color?”
“Orange.” He made a face. “A cute nurse talked me into it while I was still groggy from the operation.”
“Cool. Can I ride in your car?”
Nick smiled at the boy. “My car’s out in California. I’ve got a couple of races scheduled for this summer. I’m thinking about hanging up my wheels and devoting my time to the business.”
“You’re going to retire?” The involuntary question came from Daisy.
“Thinkin’ about it.”
“But it’s so cool,” Steve interjected.
Nick shrugged. “Seems like its time.”
When had he decided that? From his bemused expression Daisy suspected he’d surprised himself with the statement. Maybe Mayville was having an effect on its long, lost son.
“You interested in one of those fresh-baked cookies up in the case?”
Stevie nodded in response to Nick’s question.
“They’re called snickerdoodles,” he explained.
Nick pulled out his wallet and drew out some bills. “Can you tell Nadine this is for our three dinners and three snickerdoodles?”
“Sure, Nick.”
“Mister Bowman,” Daisy corrected.
“I mean, Mister Bowman.”
“Nick is fine,” Nick told the child as he scampered off his bench and headed for the counter. “He reminds me of myself at that age.”
Daisy stared at him, much struck by the observation.
“What did you find at the homeless shelter?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Alice told Aunt Isabelle who told Junie who told me when I picked her up this afternoon.”
“The grapevine.” They said the word in unison.
Daisy yelled, “Jinx!”
“What’s that?”
“Shh. You lost the jinx. You can’t speak at all until someone says your name three times.”
He squinted at her.
“Hey. I don’t make up the rules. But I enforce ’em.” She grinned at him.
Stevie reappeared with a plate of fresh cookies.
“Nadine sent extra for you, Nick,” he said.
Nick held up one finger so that only Daisy could see it.
“She said you used to like ’em back when you lived in Mayville. Did you live in Mayville before, Nick?”
Nick held up a second finger.
“I used to live in Titusville with my dad. Now me and my mom have a nice house and I wish Daisy could come live with us. Not Junie. She’s too noisy for everyday but she’s fun. Do you like Daisy, Nick?”
The man beamed at the child and leered at Daisy. “Yes. Yes, I do. And Nadine’s right. I like snickerdoodles, too.”
The cookie was halfway to his mouth when the front door slammed open. Caroline, pale but beautiful in a white summer sweater with matching slacks, trembled with rage. All conversation ceased as she approached Daisy’s table with all the banked anger of a gunfighter with a score to settle.
She grabbed her son’s hand and pulled him off the bench but her focus and her words were for her sister and they broke Daisy’s heart.
“I trusted you.” A moment later the door shut behind Caroline and the little boy. Daisy’s throat ached with the effort not to cry. She started to get up to go to Caro when she became aware of strong fingers around her wrist.
“What did I do,” he asked, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, “to make her hate me so much?”
Daisy shook her head. How could he not know Caroline had loved him.
“We dated a few times. It was casual. She acts as if I stole her firstborn.”
“Let me go. I need to talk to her.”
“Wait until tomorrow. You don’t want to have it out in front of the boy and she needs time to calm down. So do you.”
Daisy felt his warm hand cover her cold fingers. She wanted to tell him to let her go. The words wouldn’t come. Her vision blurred.
“Don’t cry,” he said, softly. “You’ll work it out with your sister.”
She wanted to tell him the tears weren’t for Caroline. At least, not just Caroline. She clamped her jaw shut.
“I’ll drive you back to the cabin,” he said.
Her heart fluttered. She wanted him to spend another night with her but it would be a huge mistake. “That’s not a good idea.”
“It is if you want to get home. The Jeep’s still out at the lake. Remember?”
Well, dang. “All right, then.”
The tree trunk was gone. Nick drove up to the clearing and parked the car. Then he hiked back to the Jeep while she went inside to feed Larry and await her doom. No, her fate. She wanted Nick. It looked like she was going to get her wish, at least for one night. She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.
Daisy showered and changed into a clean over-sized T-shirt and thought about the man waiting for her in the tiny living room. In the past twenty-four hours he’d shown her a new side. He wasn’t just a womanizing race car driver. He was a survivor, a man who had learned to reinvent himself, a man who had the patience to talk to a child and the empathy to soothe a hurt woman.
He was, also, a man her sister had loved. After he’d left that summer, Caro had fallen into a depression. While Gran, Daisy and even Junie watched and worried, she’d married Quentin. Stevie’s appearance brought them all joy but Caro had never really regained her placid cheerfulness. Was it all because of Nick? But he said they’d only dated a few times. Was that long enough to fall in love? Daisy considered her own reaction to Nick and her lips drew into a thin line. She knew the answer all too well.
The Wedding March shrilled from the cell phone in her purse. She stepped to the bed to answer it and felt a rush of relief when she recognized Caroline’s voice.
“Daze? Don’t hang up on me. I want to apologize. I know I overreacted.”
“No, you were fine,” Daisy lied.
“I think it’s a mistake for you to spend so much time with Nick. He’s dangerous, honey. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you the way he hurt me.”
“Caro.” Daisy forced herself to ask the question. She had to know. “Were you in love with Nick Bowman?”
Caroline took too long with her evasive response. Daisy’s chest felt tight.
“We’d only gone out a few times. But after that night in the cabin he just disappeared. No phone call. Nothing. It hurt. He has no heart, Daisy. Please, please don’t let him get close to you.”
Too late.
“He’ll only be in town a few more days and like everybody keeps saying, I’m not his type. I’ll be fine.”
“Stay away from him, Daze.”
“I can take care of myself.” A moment later, though, when she stepped into the empty living room, she knew she’d be able to keep her promise. Disappointment swamped her. Nick had returned to town. He hadn’t wanted to spend another night with her. Undoubtedly, that was for the best.
It took several hours of tossing, turning and arguing with herself before she really believed that.
In the morning, Daisy dressed in black slacks, a black silk T-shirt with a bright red blazer and black sneakers. She planned to enter Langston’s office through the front door during working hours but she intended to be ready if a night stealth mission was called for. She threw a change of clothes into an overnight bag, left plenty of wa
ter and cat food for Larry and stepped out of the cabin and into the pre-dawn morning. She’d just reached the Jeep when she heard his voice.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She swung her oversized purse and caught him in the mid-section.
He grunted. “Good God, woman! What’ve you got in there? An anvil?”
She froze. “Nick?”
For the first time the hair on the back of her neck had let her down.
He wrapped her up in his arms and held her close. The steady, comforting beat of his heart played against her ear. After a few minutes the fight-or-flight response tailed off and she forced herself to move away from him.
“Why are you here?”
He gave her a weary smile as if he appreciated the irony of the question. She wondered how many times he’d heard it since he arrived in Mayville.
“I spent the night in the Malibu.”
She glanced at the car parked next to her own.
“Why?”
“Why’d you think?” He sounded cranky. She noticed he put one hand against his ribs. Good grief! Had she bruised him with her purse? “Remember the murder? You’re alone out here.”
“But I wasn’t in danger.”
He didn’t bother to reply.
“Let’s go. We’ll take the Jeep.”
“What? We’ll take the Jeep where?”
“To Chicago, Daisy.” His brow cleared and his eyes gentled.
She stared at him and mentally admitted defeat. She couldn’t out-think this guy.
“Either we drive together or I follow in the Malibu.” He yawned. “I choose the first door. I haven’t slept in a bed in three nights.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Yours.” He opened the driver’s side door. “Hop in.”
“Why don’t you stay at the cabin and get some sleep?”
She wondered at her last ditch attempt to resist the outcome she wanted. Pride, probably. He fixed her with a look.
“Get in. And wake me when we get to there.”
He slept for six hours and awoke without prompting when the Chicago skyline appeared on the horizon. He yawned and stretched like a big, lazy, sensuous cat.
“Looks like we’ve reached the Emerald City.”
Chapter Eleven
Nick had gotten the requisite forty winks but they’d been troubled ones.
The fact was, he’d been troubled throughout his visit to Mayville. He simply could not shake off the sense of trepidation he’d felt since the body had been discovered at Happily Ever After; a body that was NOT Miss Ora.
Clearly, Theo had told someone else about the mysterious blue diamond and that someone had put both Nick’s investigation and the Budd sisters at risk.
A pain shot up his forearm and he forced his fingers to unclench. He’d known Daisy would insist on investigating the murder herself. She had a proprietary interest in anything that happened at the Gray Lady and the woman was no fool. She’d undoubtedly put two and two together and figured there was a connection between the drowning and the Nazi loot. Nick told himself he’d had no choice but to accompany her to Chicago but he knew it was more than that.
He’d had enough of fighting the unexpected attraction. He knew his resolution to keep his hands off Daisy Budd would not make it through this trip but he no longer cared. At least, not enough to resist. He wanted her and he knew she wanted him and they were both adults. He’d resigned himself to the prospect of fireworks in the old town tonight and, on the whole, he wasn’t sorry.
He just hoped that, when this was over, she wouldn’t be sorry either.
“Nick?”
Her voice sounded husky and his blood heated. He wanted to skip the investigation and go find a room. Or, better yet, pull off into a parking lot and go at it right there. Patience.
“Yeah?”
“I should probably tell you about the letters.”
The recital only took a few minutes but when she’d finished he’d forgotten all about sex. Mostly. Goddammit. Something very wrong was going on here.
“You okay?”
“Just some second thoughts. We’re gonna find a motel and drop you off. I’ll check out Langston’s office alone.”
“Not a chance.” Her voice was very firm. “While we’re on the subject, how do you know Adrian’s real name?” She answered herself before he could speak. “Never mind. It was a silly question. You’re a Bowman in Clark County. By the way, I Mapquested the directions. They’re in the glove box.”
“Don’t need ’em. Take this exit.”
She glanced at him.
“I went to grad school here. I know the city.”
They drove through a south side neighborhood down on its luck. The massive brick homes built at the turn of the last century for large, wealthy families were now apartments and small offices, carved up like Thanksgiving turkeys. The large structures gave way to shabby row houses, many of them vacant. They found Langston’s street address but there was no sign on the door.
“I’ll park one street over,” she said.
“Park in front. We can keep an eye on the Jeep.” And it would make for a faster getaway.
They mounted the three steps of the front stoop and crossed a porch and Nick’s sense of unease increased. Daisy fumbled with her big straw purse and extracted a credit card.
“This isn’t Bloomingdale’s.”
She shot him a disparaging look then tried to slide the piece of plastic into the crack between the door and the sill.
“This is how you’re planning to get in?”
“Yup.”
“That why you wore a cat burglar outfit?”
Color bloomed in her cheeks but her eyes laughed up at him.
“Somehow it seemed more appropriate last night when I planned my wardrobe. I thought I might be doing this at night. Alone.”
“Ah.” He wanted to watch her struggle with the door. He wanted to tease her and joke with her and pull her down on the scrubby grass in Spuds Langston’s non-existent front yard. Wrong time, wrong place he reminded himself. He drew a set of skeleton keys out of his pocket.
“Allow me.” An instant later they walked down a dark hallway which led to a narrow staircase. There appeared to be only one office. The frosted glass on the top of the door revealed the unreadable remains of gilt letters.
Spuds Langston had run a modest operation by any standard. Nick used the skeleton key again. This time he pulled Daisy behind him before he turned the knob. No sense taking chances.
The dingy windows robbed the afternoon sun of its brilliance but it was clear the room was almost empty. A single metal desk sat in one corner and a pair of battered file cabinets stood next to an incongruous fireplace. A stained percolator and a hot plate rested on top of the cabinets.
The emptiness of the room did nothing to decrease his sense of wrongness.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”
She paused and looked at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something’s not right.” He waited for her to dismiss the unspecific fear but she just nodded. After Theo blindsided him seven years earlier, he’d honed his instincts just as he’d protected his heart. He looked at Daisy’s wide eyes and wished he’d brought a gun.
Daisy seemed to read his mind.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll check the filing cabinets,” she said. “Why don’t you take the desk.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A moment later he heard the rattle of a drawer followed by a disappointed gasp.
“Empty! There’s no way to tell if this is even Spuds’ office.”
“Somebody’s cleaned out the desk, too.”
The two side drawers contained nothing. Nick opened the top drawer and picked up a number two pencil with teeth marks on it. He gazed at the paperclips, rubber band and rusted scissors but he picked up the business card and stared at the name. Buzz Bowman.
He remembered the bill addressed to
his brother from Spuds Langston. It almost made sense. But why the hell had Buzz purchased “services” from a down-and-out P.I. destined to become a murder victim?
“Nick? You okay?”
He put the card in his pocket. The sense of danger he’d had from the moment they crossed the threshold nearly overwhelmed him. He had to get her out of here.
“Let’s go.”
He hooked her arm with his fingers and pulled her toward the door. He wasn’t able to keep the anxiety out of his voice when he barked at her. “Move, woman.”
The noise on the other side of the door sounded like cat scratches. Dammit to hell. He thrust Daisy behind him, opened the door and confronted a child.
The kid was maybe fourteen, Daisy’s height and dressed in baggy cutoffs and a Snoop Dogg T-shirt. He should have been at band camp instead of holding a gun on a couple of housebreakers. Shit.
“Who are you?” His pre-adolescent voice cracked.
Daisy spoke before Nick could.
“You want to know our names? Since when do muggers ask for identification?”
The boy’s curly eyelashes flickered and his none-too-steady hand tightened on the gun.
Great. Armed and nervous.
“Take it easy, pal.”
Dark eyes stared at him. “I asked you a question.”
Nick blocked Daisy and prayed she wouldn’t make any sudden moves before he got the situation under control. It was no big surprise when that prayer fell on deaf ears.
“We came by to see Mister Langston,” Daisy said. She stepped out from behind Nick and the gunman’s hand jerked.
Nick’s gut clenched when the barrel turned on Daisy. Daisy.
“Don’t mess with me, fuckers. Put your hands up.”
Nick raised his hands. “Daisy,” he ordered, “do as he says.”
She ignored him. “I’ve got money in my purse and you can have it,” she said. “But you really shouldn’t wave your weapon around. Most accidents with guns happen to the people who own them. You could get hurt.”
Nick kept his eyes on Snoop. Right now their biggest threat was an accident. The kid didn’t want to shoot but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
“Get behind me,” he growled.
Daisy’s incessant talk provided some distraction. He inched closer to the boy. Another couple of feet and he could knock the revolver away from mini-Rambo.