Pushed to the Limit (Quid Pro Quo 1)

by Patricia Rosemoor

CHAPTER TWO

  BENNO DEMARTINO steadied the frantic-sounding woman. “Whoa, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

  Making a choked sound, she pulled away from him. “S-sorry. I thought you were someone else. I forgot m-my flashlight and couldn’t see.”

  “I guess not.”

  Benno snapped on his own torch and shone it on the woman. It didn’t take much insight to realize she was terrified and on the verge of collapse. Her distress was written on her face and in her carriage. Shoulders hunched, she seemed about to shrink into herself.

  “Are there stairs or something around here so I can get up to the road?” she asked.

  “Not too far from here. I was just heading back into town,” he lied, having only set foot on the beach moments ago.

  He’d just got back into town an hour before and meant to lose himself in the solitary night for a while – something he’d done most of his life when troubled – but this woman’s problems seemed monumental compared to his own. Doing a good deed wouldn’t hurt him; he didn’t have that many to his credit.

  Indicating the flashlight, he said, “We can share.”

  “Thanks.”

  As he started off, she fell in step but didn’t come too close. Even so, her tension vibrated through the space between them. He could smell fear on a person and this lady was definitely afraid. He knew every resident of Stone Beach on sight and she wasn’t one of them, so she must be a tourist. But why had she been out alone on the beach at night? He was too aware of a person’s need for privacy to question her motives.

  When they got to a part of the embankment that wasn’t very steep, he asked, “Think you can make it up here if I give you a hand? Or should we keep going until we get to the stairs?”

  Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder as if she were looking for yet dreading meeting up with the man for whom he’d been mistaken. “Here.”

  He climbed halfway up and held out his hand. She hesitated only a second before giving him her trust. Some people trusted too easily, he thought, helping her up over the sand hill. The moment she set foot on level ground, however, she withdrew her hand. Still a ways from the main beach area, they stood in a paved cul de sac, a turn around area for residents of this side street at the south end of town.

  Benno flashed his light over the young woman once more. Her short hair was damp. Thick tendrils were plastered to a broad forehead and rounded cheeks that gave her something of a baby face. She was shivering, but from chill or fright? Maybe both.

  “You look like you could use something to warm up your insides.” Benno found it amazingly easy to be kind to this stranger. That she might disappear into the night as quickly as she had materialized disturbed him. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? A drink? Herbal tea?”

  “Tea sounds good.”

  She seemed relieved, as if she didn’t want to be alone. He could identify with that feeling.

  “I know just the place,” he said, lightly settling his hand on her elbow. He led her past his wind-battered cottage which overlooked the beach. She’d probably get the wrong idea if he invited her into his home. “Since we’re going to share a cup of tea, we shouldn’t be strangers. I’m Benno DeMartino.”

  “Sydney Raferty L–. Uh, Raferty.”

  She’d been about to add another name. He was curious, but he didn’t press her. They walked in silence, and, as if his mere presence was comforting to her, he sensed the lady relaxed. Odd how some people could relate to strangers. He himself had difficulty in that area, though Sydney Raferty might prove to be the exception. Something about her drew his interest – and as odd as it seemed, his protective instincts as well. Considering his background, that was saying a lot for her.

  As they left the eerie night beach behind, the fog thinned and the lights of Main Street glowed dimly overhead.

  “We’re almost there.” He snapped off his flashlight as they crossed the street. “So, how do you like Stone Beach?”

  “I don’t know.” Brow furrowed, Sydney looked around at the deserted shop-lined street. “I really haven’t had the chance to see much of anything. It seems nice.”

  “Stone Beach is pretty laid back. Quiet. Not like Seaside or Astoria,” he said, referring to larger nearby towns. “We have a number of artists and writers in residence.”

  “Which are you?”

  Benno laughed. “Neither.” He stopped in front of a wooden building whose large windows were darkened. A “Closed” sign hung in the glassed front door. “This is the place.”

  “But it’s locked up tight.” She sounded disappointed.

  “But I have the key.” He produced it with a flourish and unlocked the door.

  Sydney looked up at the shingle which hung overhead. “Benno’s Place?”

  “Benno DeMartino, proprietor.” He flicked a light switch just inside the door and held out a hand indicating she should enter. When she hesitated, he preceded her and called over his shoulder. “Come on in. You have the distinction of being my only customer of the evening.”

  Stools were stacked upside down on the bar as were chairs on their tables. The place had a neglected air, though he’d only been gone for a week.

  He headed for the bar where he righted a couple of stools before starting water for the tea. He heard Sydney’s light footsteps on the wooden floor but he chose not to engage her in conversation immediately. Instead, he rinsed out a couple of mugs and set an Almond Enchantment tea bag in each. He sensed the young woman was taking her time looking around – deciding who he was by his surroundings?

  If so, she was as foolish as most of the locals. Poster-covered salmon walls, wooden tables and chairs and a small stage with accompanying mike and speakers wouldn’t tell her who he was as a person. He looked up to find her staring at him, her expression curious.

  “I’ve been out of town and the place has been locked up,” he found himself telling her. I just got back tonight. He was caught by her odd gray eyes, large and round and filled with sadness. “So, are you staying in a motel or visiting friends?”

  “Neither, exactly.” The distraught expression assaulted her face once more, though she was visibly trying to control herself from giving way to whatever was bothering her. “I’m here alone now.”

  Alone and lonely, Benno thought. And afraid. He couldn’t forget that. Why? A top-notch bartender could get anyone to open up.

  “Want to come sit over here or would you prefer one of the tables?” he asked.

  “The bar is fine.”

  He slid her mug toward her as she slipped onto one of the stools. “I get the feeling you could use something stronger than plain tea.” He lifted a bottle of Ameiuridae from the shelf behind him. “What about it?” When she nodded, Benno splashed a shot into her mug. He waited until she took a couple of sips before asking, “Planning on staying long?”

  “I’m not sure. A while, I guess.”

  She seemed distant – almost alienated – something he himself had experienced more often than was good for a person. “Since you don’t know anyone in town, I’d be glad to help make you feel at home,” he heard himself offering before he had a chance to think it over.

  “That’s very kind of you.” Sydney’s knuckles whitened on the mug and she suddenly said, “The reason I don’t know anyone in town is because my new husband brought me here on our wedding day... and then he died.”

  No wonder she was so distraught. So she’d thought he was a dead man? The realization gave Benno a start though he supposed it wasn’t all that unusual for someone who’d recently lost a loved one to be prey to wishful thinking. Still, the kind of fear she’d displayed didn’t seem to go hand-in-hand with love and hope.

  “I still can’t believe Kenneth is dead,” she whispered.

  Kenneth? Benno’s mind raced. Sydney had run into him on the strip of beach south of town. Only one man by that name lived along the cliffs. His breath came short and he stiffened.

  “Your husband.” He forced
himself to complete the unthinkable. “He wasn’t Kenneth Lord?”

  “Yes,” she said, confirming his fear. “You knew him?”

  “Knew him?” Benno felt as if he’d been smacked in the gut. Kenneth dead? It wasn’t possible. He gripped the edge of the bar so tightly his fingers went numb. “He was my friend. I’m sorry. My God, how did it happen?”

  Sydney took a sip of tea as if to bolster herself. “A horrible accident. He fell from the cliff near the house.”

  “Kenneth wasn’t clumsy. This is unbelievable... unthinkable.” He stared at her. “Were you with him?”

  “I was back aways taking his picture. One minute he was posing for me... the next he was gone. Drowned.”

  That information gave Benno the weirdest feeling. Another drowning. Coincidence?

  Grief for his friend made him reach for a whiskey bottle. He poured a shot and downed it straight. As if the fire could burn away the shock and disbelief. God, not Kenneth, not his only friend in a town that had always seemed alien to him. He and Kenneth had a bond no one and nothing could break.

  Nothing but death, he thought, shocked to the core.

  He stared at the widow. No wonder he’d been drawn to Sydney. Somehow, his lifelong bond with Kenneth Lord had spilled over to include the man’s wife.

  A stranger.

  Something didn’t gel here. He gave her an even harder look.

  “Kenneth never told me he was getting married. I had no idea that he was seriously involved with someone.”

  “It was one of those storybook romances,” she said with irony. “Love at first sight, whirlwind courtship, impulsive marriage. Too bad about the happy ending.”

  Kenneth must have met her while he was out of town. “He was a good friend, too young to die.” His own age – thirty-seven.

  “We, uh, held his memorial service yesterday,” Sydney said.

  “Memorial... no funeral?”

  Her eyes filled as she shook her head. “The search team couldn’t find his body.”

  The fact unsettled Benno once more. A corpse should have been beached with the incoming tide – as he well knew – if not here, then somewhere along the coast. And it had already been three days.

  “They may find him yet, Sydney,” he said in an effort to be comforting. Without a body, she undoubtedly had no sense of closure to the relationship. Hell, he couldn’t believe it himself.

  “Unless Kenneth really isn’t dead.”

  That gave him a start. “What?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Just because no body was found–”

  ”I know,” she interrupted. “I’ve heard all the reasoning in the world. My family is rather pragmatic when it comes to the unexplained. Sydney shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe me, either. You’d think I was losing it. Maybe I am. I thought I could stay in Kenneth’s house alone, but the place got to me. I took a walk to make myself feel better.” Seeming embarrassed now, she licked a drop of tea from her bottom lip. “I, uh, thought I heard his voice out there in the foggy night. He only died three days ago and I guess I still haven’t come to terms with losing him.”

  Benno sensed there was even more to her story than she was sharing, but he was too distraught by the news to figure out what. “Because you thought you heard a voice?”

  She nodded, swallowed hard, and said, “Added to a premonition that Kenneth was still alive and waiting for me to slip into his arms.”

  “Wishful thinking.”

  Sydney laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Yes. I guess that’s a more acceptable explanation than being crazy.” She took a sip from the mug and placed it on the bar with a clunk that had a ring of finality. “Thanks for the flashlight and the tea, Benno. I think I’ll be going now.”

  “Wait.” His hand slid over hers and held it fast. “You’re upset. Let me see you safely home.”

  “No, really.”

  ”I insist. Let me do this for Kenneth. For my friend.”

  She didn’t argue and he could tell that, whether or not she was willing to admit it, Sydney needed someone to lean on. His shoulder was stronger than some and it happened to be available. And in helping her, he was doing what he could for a friend. Probably the last thing anyone could do for Kenneth.

  He picked up the flashlight and circled the bar. “Come on. My car is down the street.”

  He felt her reluctance as she followed him outside. Benno didn’t know why he had this bizarre impulse to play hero to her maiden-in-distress, but something about Sydney got to him at a gut level. Maybe it was the eyes. An odd pale gray, they managed to look right through him one minute and reveal her vulnerability the next.

  Despite what the locals still thought of him, he’d always been a sucker for hurt or lost creatures... and right now, Sydney Raferty Lord was about as hurt and lost as a human being could get.