by Misty Simon
Hell, the subject of marriage had never come up, either.
But then Ben slung an arm around my shoulder and bussed me on the cheek. “You don’t have to panic. I’m sure I have something on Bella from her youth that I can bargain for against our children’s names.”
He sounded a little jokey, but he also sounded comfortable talking about children that were ours. I squelched the rising panic and happiness mixing in my chest and concentrated on which key to use for the front door.
“This isn’t really breaking and entering, right?” I asked—swiftly, if not smoothly, changing the subject.
He took my hint, but it wasn’t instantaneous. After a brief hesitation where he squeezed my shoulder, he stepped away from me, taking the keys. “No, it’s not breaking and entering since we have the keys and that implies some permission. Although, I don’t know what we’ll say if we get caught in these ridiculous getups. I don’t think I like you with black hair.”
I feigned a chuckle, giving him the response he wanted, while I waited anxiously for him to unlock the door. I kept an eye out for anyone watching us, but saw no one. Maybe we would actually get away with this.
Within seconds, the door opened and we headed inside. I don’t know what I’d expected from Horace and Doris’ house, but I knew this wasn’t it.
Every available surface was covered with clutter and knickknacks. This wasn’t so unusual, although I had heard Doris complain about how Martha had too much stuff in her house and didn’t she want clean lines and aesthetic appeal? No, the really weird thing was that every wall in the living room was covered by framed letters, apparently framed letters from fans who thought Horace was the greatest thing since sliced bread. And a lot of the handwriting looked alike. On closer examination, quite a few of them appeared to be from the same person, who dotted her Is with hearts and signed them all From Yours Truly and no other name. Weird.
I took a brief moment to wonder how Doris felt about Horace having such a devoted fan, before Ben came up behind me. “We’re not here to hack at their terrible décor.”
This from a man who thought duct tape was the height of interior design. “Fine, I just thought it was kind of odd to have all this framed fan mail.”
“Well, I found something even stranger.”
Ben’s eyes were burning with the light of delicious discovery, and I almost dragged him to the floor right there. This was what had been missing from my earlier attempts to solve the mystery of the old, dead man. I needed Ben to make it work, and something inside me settled when I realized it.
“Let’s go, Inspector Hottie.”
The glint of discovery turned to the fire of desire in the blink of his beautiful green eyes. Hoo-wee! Had it gotten hotter in here, or was my underwear on fire?
I controlled myself with the last thread of non-lust-flooded sanity. “What did you want to show me?”
He leered at me, and his hand descended to his crotch. I caught his fingertips before they could brush his jeans. “Not right now, I’m on the edge anyway, and we are in someone else’s house. Let’s finish up here, and then you and I can make a beeline back to my house.” Hell, if the duct-taped couch at his apartment was closer, at this point I wouldn’t care what kind of marks it would leave on my back, if I could only be under Ben.
I shook my head and pinned him with a glare. “Show me what you found, so we can go.”
He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the kitchen. I blinked at the brilliance of glass-fronted cabinets and the glow of honey-colored glossy floors. The living room had looked like it was stuck back in the fifties, but this room shouted money and “brand new,” with no expense spared. “How could they afford this if they have no money? The contradictions are multiplying.”
“No shit, and look at this refrigerator.” He pulled open what I had thought was a cabinet, revealing a pristine interior but no food. Not a spot on the entire thing. Which reminded me, I needed to mop up the mess on one of my shelves at home. I’d made a pot roast that had slopped juice all over when I put it in the fridge. Not important now.
“What does this mean, though?” More important than my own messes.
“Well, it looks like the labels are still on some of the glass, and nothing has been put back into the cabinets. I think this was done quite recently.”
Done recently, but he had no money. My head was whirling. Maybe he’d taken that money out of the bank to pay for this. I shared my theory with Ben, and at least he didn’t scoff.
“Did you ever follow up on those business cards he said he’d ordered?”
“Good question, but unfortunately the answer’s no. I have to call Bella back anyway and make sure her Dragonness is still there. I’ll ask what she and Jared found out, if they found anything.”
Hurt fluttered across Ben’s face. I knew he was thinking about the way he hadn’t helped out much this time around because I hadn’t come to him with anything. Well, I didn’t have time for that particular discussion right this minute, so I set it aside and simply smiled at him. We’d get it worked out eventually. I had faith in that now like I hadn’t before.
“Let’s not look backward right now. We need to look forward and work together.” All thoughts of Chocolate Eyes were firmly banished from my mind forever.
“Yeah.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “All right, make your phone call, and I’ll keep looking around for anything else that looks out of place.” He trudged out of the kitchen, and my heart went out to him while I dialed the familiar number.
“Dragons are us.”
“Nice,” I said as I snickered. “Could you sound any more disgusted?”
“Make me spend more than ten more minutes with this woman, and you’ll find out. I warn you, it won’t be pretty. Not pretty at all.”
“Ten minutes should be fine. Ben and I are almost done here. Have I told you today how much I love you?” Never hurt to put a little something extra in to sweeten the pot she wanted to throw at my head.
“Call me as soon as you’re done. I’m supposed to be with Jared right now, and it’s not helping that she won’t shut up about how pretty he is.”
Did Doris have a wandering eye? A memory thrust itself into my mind, and I recalled seeing her with an unfamiliar man in the car a few days ago. Could it have been something I should have checked into more thoroughly? I added it to my list of unanswered questions that was about the length of my arm now. Speaking of the length of my arm, I shoved my long sleeve up. “I’ll call you back in a little bit, Bella. I promise we’re almost done here, and then you can be Dragon-less.”
“You better not only promise, but you better hurry. I’m going to start pulling out clumps of hair here, and I can’t guarantee it will be my own.”
Dead air sang in my ear as I looked back at the Sharpie marks on my arm. I was missing something here and I needed to figure it out before we left. My time had shrunk down to minutes, and I wouldn’t get this chance again. Bella would never agree.
Okay. I took a second, centered myself, and tried to calm my racing brain. But nothing came. “Let’s hustle,” I called down the hall as I ran into what I thought was the master bedroom.
The big bed squatted in the middle of a sea of more wood floor. But this planking looked like it had weathered more than one storm. It buckled in a couple of places and had a few deep slashes. No high gloss here.
I didn’t let the floor distract me, though, as I wandered around looking for something—anything—to validate us essentially stealing Horace’s keys and being in his house.
I hit pay dirt in the closet. There was a big safe-like thing on the floor with a pair of crossed guns over the front of it. I’d never really seen one of these things other than in the Bass Pro Shop when Ben had dragged me there for a fun afternoon playing amongst the dead animal displays, but I knew it was a gun safe made to hold all your deadly assault rifles. Now, why would Horace, who had sworn he knew nothing about guns and wouldn’t know the first thing about shooting, have a gun safe that t
ook up half the bottom of his closet?
Ben barreled into the room before I could ponder the question. “Anything yet?” he asked as he skidded on the one small area rug and bumped across the imperfections of the floor.
He slid over to me, I sidestepped to avoid being crashed into, and he hit the wall, where a door popped open under the pressure of his knee. I hadn’t even seen the small nook door. The seams in the wallpaper hadn’t shown up at all when it was closed. And now we had one more area to explore, with only eight minutes to finish it up.
But first, “Didn’t Horace say he didn’t know anything about shooting or guns?”
Ben couldn’t take his eyes off the hidden door; I was more interested in trying to guess what the safe was about. Eight minutes might not seem like much, but I needed to follow the trail one step at a time. The door could wait a minute.
I turned back to Ben and snapped my fingers in front of his face. He glanced up at me, then went right back to staring at the door.
“Oh, forget it,” I said and tried the little handle thingy on the safe. Surprisingly it swung right open without a single noise. Must not have anything too important in there, if it was left unlocked.
I rummaged around, finding passports, an old medical book, and some loose ammunition. “That can’t be safe,” I muttered.
Further examination of the safe was cut off when Ben crowed triumphantly behind me and started waving something in front of my face.
“What are you doing?” I tried to smack the two small leather-bound books from his hand, since he nearly had them up both my nostrils. He retreated for a moment, but then came right back with them.
“You’ll never guess what I found.”
I turned fully around and watched him do an impromptu jitterbug. At least I thought that was what he was doing. Then again, with Ben, he could be having a leg seizure. “I don’t want to guess.” Yeah, I was a little grumpy that he’d found something, while I only had a twenty-year-old medical text to show for my efforts.
“Come on, you’re going to love this.” He shimmied his shoulders, and I repressed a chuckle.
“Just show me your find already.”
And he did.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mr. Hanks sat in front of me across a wide ocean of highly polished wood. His desk reminded me of the lovely kitchen floors in Horace’s house and the way they gleamed in comparison to the bedroom, with its warped planks and secret door that hopefully held the key to all that had gone on.
Ben and I had retreated from the house in the next town over with our finds—I’d taken the medical text just to prove I’d found something, even if it was useless—and not a moment too soon. We actually passed Doris on the way back into Martha’s Point.
I tapped the toe of my sneaker on the hunter green carpet as I waited for Mr. Hanks to look up from one of the black books Ben had found. Ben, who was currently checking out the other book, had declined this meeting, so I was the only one stuck across from Mr. Hanks, trying hard not to wonder what color Speedo he had on today beneath his beige suit.
“Well, Ivy, I’m not really sure what I’ll be able to tell from this bank book without anything to compare it to, but I’ll do my best for you.”
“I’d really appreciate it.” I hadn’t told him where it had come from, but he was willing to work somewhat blind since I’d also brought a new catalog that catered exclusively to the tight-underwear-wearing crowd.
“When do you need any info I can extract?” He settled back into his big chair, folding his hands over his paunch. Thankfully his lower body was hidden behind the desk, so I tried to keep my mind on the top half of him.
“Whenever you find something would be great. I wanted to know if there is anything in there that seems odd, like lots of withdrawals or too much money going into the account.”
“As I said, without anything to compare it to, I might not be much help, but I’ll see what I can do for you. You’re my favorite proprietress, after all.” He gave me a smile, and I returned it.
He was one of my best and most consistent customers, after all. And I didn’t need to approve of what he wore under his clothes. I’d certainly never told any of the women in my shop their boobs were too big or saggy for one piece of lingerie or another. I was a live-and-let-live kind of person, and I needed to apply that to his situation, too. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever asked me to tell him if something fit okay. That thought was too far out of my comfort zone, so I stood up and shook his hand across the desk.
“You’re doing me a huge favor with this. I wish I had time to look into it myself, but Mr. Winnet recommended you for the job.” I’d had no idea what Mr. Hanks did for a living until I went to my old, trusted, lawyer friend Mr. Winnet for advice this time. I’d inherited him along with the shoppe from Great-Aunt Gertie when she’d passed away. He was very disappointed that I hadn’t had any juicy questions for him on this go-around, but he was still all too happy to point me in the right direction. He said life wasn’t as boring since I came to town. I decided to take it as a compliment, though three murders in as many months when they hadn’t had one for ten years wasn’t exactly a high recommendation for what excitement had ensued since I’d moved here.
I left Mr. Hanks’ office with one less thing to do and decided to go back to the angry Lauren to see if I could get her to spill anything. Now that I knew how to get to her house, I figured it wouldn’t be as hard a drive as last time. I still filled up at the gas station before leaving town and checked in with Ben, since I knew my cell phone wouldn’t work out there, again.
Once I made it to her house, I pulled to a stop in the gravel drive and looked around before getting out. The drive had been short and effortless, unlike last time. But unlike last time, it didn’t look like anyone was here. Crap. I should have called her before coming.
I exited the car quietly, trying to remember if I had heard any dogs, or anything else living, on my last visit. I didn’t think so, but to be on the safe side I kept an eye out for any canines racing toward me from the back of her property. You never knew what kind of watch system people had when they weren’t home. I’d read an article in the Martha’s Herald about a man who used ferrets as a deterrent. I did not want to face those furry little ferocious things if I didn’t have to. They looked like big, long rats. Gross.
No one, and nothing, accosted me as I made my way to the door. All was quiet on this west-of-town front. Damn, wasted trip. But at least I hadn’t driven all over the place before getting here this time. And it was still light outside, which was a real bonus.
I took a chance and knocked on the door. Because of how quiet it had seemed a moment ago, I was shocked to hear huge racking sobs coming from the interior of the small house on the edge of the woods.
No one came to the door, but the sobbing turned into wailing as I stood on the stoop, helpless. I knew the sounds of grief. Hadn’t I experienced them myself not too long ago when I cried on Bella?
Did I want to interrupt what sounded like a heart breaking? I had walked into the fray with Martha, Dad, Horace, and Doris, but that was anger. Would I be able to put myself into the midst of something so much worse? Did I have it in me?
In a way, I wished Lauren would throw open the door and pull me into her world. Take the choice from me as she cried all over me. Then I could say it had been forced, not a choice at all. But she didn’t open the door. I did.
“Lauren?” I said it quietly so as not to frighten her.
The woman who turned to me looked nothing like the angry, rude woman of yesterday. Her hair was a mess, mascara made watery black tracks down her cheeks, and her eyes were a ravaged red that must have hurt. She wore the same clothes as yesterday and was balled up on the floor, a framed picture at her elbow.
So, now that I was there, I had no idea what to do. “Um, are you okay?” What a stupid question. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead.
But a hiccup and a weak laugh answered me. I expected some yelling,
so I was caught off guard. And even more caught off guard when Lauren grabbed my hand and pulled me to the floor. Thank God for butt flab; her wood floors were hard. She’d pulled me down on probably the only spot without a rug.
“It’s so terrible,” she wailed. At least that’s what I thought she said, but it was hard to make out through the tears. She clutched a piece of paper with familiar handwriting.
“I’m sorry, Lauren.”
“It was never supposed to be like...like...like this. Why did this happen?”
I wasn’t much of a toucher, but I made an exception here. She was hurting, and maybe I could help. I put my arm around her shoulders, holding on as she bawled again. “He wasn’t a bad man. It shouldn’t have happened like this.”
She must have been talking about Nathaniel. I couldn’t imagine losing someone who had meant so much to me. Losing Ben was unthinkable, whether we were fighting or not. Death was so permanent.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I patted her back.
She turned bleary eyes to me, sniffling. I pulled some tissues from an end table and handed them to her. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I think I will now.” She blew her nose. I handed her another tissue to wipe her eyes. “I’m sure this wasn’t why you came over.”
I decided to be honest with her. “No, it wasn’t the reason I came over, but no one should be alone when they’re grieving like you are. Is there anything I can do for you?” I held up more tissues. “Besides giving you nose rags?”
She laughed a watery chuckle. Within seconds, though, her face hardened and the smile disappeared. “Yes, as a matter of fact there is something you can do for me.”
“Anything.” When will I learn to think before I open my mouth? “Within reason, of course.”
“Of course.” She rose gracefully from the floor, then stuck out her hand to help me up.
I debated letting her help pull me up, but she probably weighed about half of me. I smiled at her and lumbered to my feet on my own. “Don’t want us both to end up back on the floor.”