by Lynn Cahoon
“Don’t let her change or anything. Your uncle will want to interview her in what she was wearing.” Paul opened the door and then waited outside until Cat threw the deadbolt.
Locking the door was probably like shutting the barn door after the horse escapes, but at least it made her feel a little better. Now she was glad Seth had replaced the lock on the cellar door last month. The house was huge, but at least it felt a little safer with the primary doors locked and watched.
Cat poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, watching Christina as she sipped the hot chocolate Shauna had given her. “You said you’d recognized him from the pizza place? Had you seen him before?”
“No. But when he stopped today, he was all friendly until he got out of the truck, then he grabbed me. I should have listened yesterday when you said not to be outside alone. I just hate feeling out of control. Why can’t people just be nice?” She pulled the blanket Shauna had brought from the linen closet, closer.
“Good question.” Shauna glanced at me as she rubbed Christina’s back. “But you’re safe now and tomorrow this will just be a bad memory.”
“Will it?” Christina wiped at her eyes. “I mean, life has been kind of crappy lately. Now I get to add in a thwarted kidnapping to my list. What in the world did he want from me?”
Cat dropped her gaze. There were many things she could think of that a kidnapper would have done with a woman. Instead of answering her question, Cat tried to distract her until Uncle Pete came to bring it all up again. “Tell me what you were researching in the library. Or were you somewhere else?”
“I went for coffee at that cute little shop downtown.” She sent a sideways glance at Shauna. “Not that your coffee isn’t wonderful. I just wanted to play with some plot lines alone. Except this handsome man in line behind me insisted on buying my coffee, and then I asked him to sit with me.”
“Not the kidnapper, though?”
Christina shook her head. “He looked rich, and he said he knew you. Although he kept calling the place ‘Catherine’s Retreat,’ which I thought was weird if he really knew you. I mean, he’d call you Cat, right? Anyway, he asked about who was attending and what we’d done so far and what we were going to do.” The girl paused, understanding filling her face. “And now he knows where we’ll be for the next few days and when the house will be empty. You don’t think he’s a burglar, do you?”
No, Cat didn’t think Dante was a burglar, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking for a way to get into the house alone. She was sure that’s who Christina had coffee with. She wondered what he wanted. Could he be looking for something of Michael’s? Was there something that she hadn’t found while cleaning up Michael’s study.
Now she just needed to find out what.
Chapter 11
Cat went upstairs to her office after Uncle Pete came. He’d asked if they could use Michael’s study, so she had unlocked the door. She needed to just get over people being in his study. In the study, she corrected herself. But not until she figured out what she’d missed. As they settled into the chairs, she’d scanned the room, trying to imagine what Dante Cornelio could want in the space. She’d cleaned out all the boxes of books from the campus office, and they were all sitting in the wall to ceiling bookcase, waiting to be picked up and looked at one more time.
She made a note in her planner to sort through the books next week, once the retreat was over, and to donate anything dealing with his academic studies. She should just have the library take the whole batch. But she wanted to page through them one more time, making sure they didn’t hold a secret clue. She had too many things to worry about right now. She turned on the computer. But instead of going into her manuscript and actually working, she opened an Internet browser and started searching for information on Dante Cornelio. He had mentioned knowing Michael. He knew her and where she lived. Now she was going to find out what she could about him.
By the time her uncle knocked on the door, she had two notebook pages filled with notes on the guy. His charities, his love life, and his family’s reported link to the crime world. Of course, the articles that mentioned mob connections treated it like ancient history. Like the fact he’d come from such bloody beginnings was a joke. She had been staring at a picture of Dante with a tall blond woman at a charity ball when she heard Uncle Pete’s knock. She clicked out of the browser as she pushed away from the desk. “Come on in.”
“Sorry if you’re working. I know it’s probably been pretty rough getting some quiet time this week.” Uncle Pete sank into the sofa and closed his eyes for a second. He let out a big sigh. “A guy could fall asleep here no problem.”
“I won’t tell.” She sat in the rocker under the window. The backyard was still covered in untouched snow, and with the forecast for more next week, she thought they might be assured a white Christmas this year.
“You ever consider just renting this place out to a wandering circus or selling it for a school for the performing arts? Having twenty teenagers running through town might be easier on me than your monthly retreats. Aren’t writers supposed to be homebodies who always have their nose in a book?”
“They aren’t that bad.” Cat turned her gaze from the window to her uncle, who was grinning. “Okay, so it’s been a rough two months. We’ll rush through December and pray January is boring.”
“I have a feeling that nothing you set your mind to do will ever be boring.” He opened his notebook and reviewed his notes from the first interview. “Christina said she screamed, then all of a sudden the guy went down and you were standing there. I think I already know, but I should ask. What did you hit him with? The hospital would probably like to know.”
“A concrete garden gnome. That sucker was heavy. But he didn’t fall; he was just stunned and let go of Christina.” Cat thought about the details of the fight. “Then Christina grabbed a shovel out of the van and hit him in the head with that. That’s when he went down. I grabbed the other gnome, just in case he moved and, well, that’s when you arrived.”
He made some notes, then looked at her. “Did you recognize him?”
Cat shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe, what?”
“He looks about the same size as the guy who almost knocked me over that day. The day I met Dante.” She leaned back into the chair. “It could have been him, or it could have been some random guy in town that day who was late for an appointment.”
Uncle Pete closed his notebook. “I looked at the coffee shop’s videos and the guy over at the hospital had coffee with Dante Cornelio ten minutes before you did. In fact, you guys sat at the same table.”
“So he knows Dante.” Cat’s thoughts jumbled with possibilities.
He leaned back and looked out on the backyard too. “It’s really not too late to sell this and move to Florida with your folks.”
“It’s not all that bad here,” Cat said.
Her uncle met her gaze. “If I’m right, the guy you took down with garden implements is a contract hit man for the mob. He might be a little embarrassed by his ultimate capture.”
“And what? Come kill me just because I took him out with a fantasy creature?” Cat shook her head, but the pit in the bottom of her stomach was growing larger.
“Weirder things have happened.” He stood and patted her on the shoulder as he walked by her and out of the office. “Don’t fret. I should be able to connect him to enough murders to keep him in jail for a long, long time.”
“Wait.” Cat followed him out of her office. “If he’s a contract killer, does that mean he’s the one who whacked Tommy? And why?”
“All good questions. Maybe you should have gone into police work instead of writing.” Her uncle paused at the top of the stairs. “But no, apparently from the plane tickets we found in his luggage, he came in the morning after Tommy was killed. His first stop in town was meeting with Dante. And you know how that turned out.”
She followed him downstairs, where Shauna
had set out a supper of sandwiches, potato and macaroni salads, and chocolate cake for dessert. Cat and Uncle Pete paused in the dining room and watched Shauna finish unpacking the spread.
When she noticed them, she shrugged. “What? I figured you’d all be hungry.”
“I’ve got to get down to the hospital.” Uncle Pete kissed Cat on the cheek. “I’d say see you soon, but I’d rather not jinx your last few days.”
“Wait,” Shauna called after him. “I have a dinner for you too. I figured you wouldn’t stay, so I boxed up a sandwich and salad for you.”
He took the bag and glanced inside. “And a slice of that cake, I see.”
“A man’s got to eat. Sorry it’s not homemade.” Shauna patted him on the arm. “We’ll do a family dinner sometime next week after we get the house cleared out.”
“You spoil me.” Uncle Pete waved his hand and exited out the front door.
Cat went to the window and noticed him stopping by Paul Quinn’s cruiser. The men talked for a bit. Then Uncle Pete pulled away, but the other car stayed put. “Looks like we have a protector for the night. You might want to take him dinner too.”
“Already delivered. And we actually have two night watchmen. Seth’s coming over with his suitcase and staying in the extra room until Sunday.” Shauna didn’t look at her as she walked back to the dining room. “And he’s picking up Bella at the library on his way.”
“I’d forgotten all about her.” Cat rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m a horrible retreat hostess.”
“You told her to call the house when she was ready and she did. You don’t have to do everything, you know. I’d say saving a guest from a kidnapping definitely outranks picking up one at the library. Besides, you’re not alone here. That’s what Seth and I are here for, to help. Let us do our jobs.” Shauna threw a towel over her shoulder. “You can do one thing, though.”
“What’s that?” Cat leaned against the doorway, exhausted.
“I told the group I’d call their rooms when the food was ready.” Shauna waved her toward the phone. “Go let the children know it’s time for supper.”
Cat laughed and went over to the desk. As she was making the calls, she thought about Shauna’s reference to the guests as children. They were part of the family, at least for this week. Besides, she did have help catering to their needs. She just needed to remember that.
*
After dinner, the group disbanded. They’d all eaten in the dining room that meal, guests and staff alike. Shauna was in the kitchen, boxing up leftovers and cleaning up the dishes. The guests were in their rooms writing, or at least Cat hoped that’s what they were doing. And Seth had gone out to his truck to get his suitcase.
He came back through the front door, stomping his feet on the entry rug. “It’s starting to snow again. I bet we have three inches by morning.”
“At least we’ll be able to see tracks in the snow if anyone comes close to the house tonight.” Cat sat at the lobby desk, doodling and looking at the flowers Dante had sent her. What was his connection to the recently deceased Tommy Neil, or was it just coincidence that he showed up into town now? She realized Seth had stopped in front of the desk. “Sorry, I was daydreaming.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “About him? I’m really going to have to up my game if I hope to compete with a guy rich enough to send those flowers.”
“You aren’t in competition. And I’m not sure why he even sent the flowers.” She yawned. “Anyway, I’m beat.”
“So am I staying in your room?” There was a crinkle around his eyes when he laughed and right now, those eyes were staring at her.
“No.” She dropped her gaze before she said yes with her body and contradicted her words.
“Then I need a room key.”
She could hear the humor in his voice. She grabbed the key from the only empty room on the second floor and set it on the counter between them. “Have a nice night.”
“I was hoping for something on the third floor. That way you could sneak into my room without anyone noticing.” He twirled the key in his hand. “I’ll leave the door unlocked, just in case.”
“In your dreams, buddy.” She stretched. “The only man I’m having in my room tonight is the sandman. And we have a date as soon as I make sure everything’s locked up.”
“I checked the cellar before I went out to the truck. And Shauna locked the kitchen door as soon as everyone was in the house.” He pointed to the front door. “You handle that, and I’ll wait for you. We can walk upstairs together.”
She rubbed her face then grabbed the keys. “Might as well. I’m not doing anything productive here.”
“Look, I know today took a lot out of you. You need to realize it’s not normal to take down a man twice your size. You’re a hero.” He pulled her into a hug.
“I threw garden statuary at the guy.” But she let herself relax for the first time since she’d come upon the van and Christina. All she could think about at the time was saving the girl. She’d read too many books where the situation didn’t work out and the police didn’t save the victim.
Seth’s scent filled her senses, and now she didn’t understand why in the world she’d said no to sharing her bed. She looked up at him, and he kissed her. “You’re a good guy, Seth Howard.”
He stepped back raising his hands as if he was warding off a blow. “Don’t let that get out. Something like that would ruin my reputation as a hard-ass.”
“You are the only person that thinks of you that way.” She locked the door and looked out the window at the police cruiser. The snow had started to stick. “Poor Paul. It must be freezing in that car.”
“Shauna set him up with a carafe of coffee along with dinner. She’s a food pusher.” Seth waved her toward him. “Come on, I’m beat and I know you’re tired. Let’s go to bed.”
They walked slowly up the stairs and when they reached the second floor landing, he kissed her again—this time quick, like he was off to work a busy day at the office. “See you in the morning. Sleep well.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Cat climbed the rest of the stairs to her room and collapsed on her bed.
Within the hour, she’d realized her words had been a lie. Sleep wasn’t coming. She’d taken a warm bath, slipped under the covers in warm pajamas and socks and, still, her mind wouldn’t shut off.
Glancing at the clock, she threw her covers off and grabbed a robe. She’d go downstairs, make some hot cocoa, and then start packing up Michael’s books. Maybe if she lugged around enough of those crazy-heavy volumes, she’d wear herself out.
*
The process was slow. She’d kept several folded boxes in a closet in the room, so now she had to tape up a box, take all the books off one shelf at a time, then replace the books she wanted to keep. So far, that had been five. And she had three boxes already to take to the library. Maybe the size of this donation would get her back on Miss Applebome’s good side. Or not.
Cat didn’t think the librarian forgave much, and Cat knew she didn’t forget anything. She flipped through each book, looking for notations or a loose scrap of paper. So far, she’d found class notes and a receipt from the hotel where they’d spent their honeymoon. She sat that on a table, not sure what to do with something so personal after a divorce. Did she trash it? Burn it? Now that she believed Michael had staged the whole event to get her out of his life, she didn’t have the anger anymore to do either. But she’d burned the love card out of her heart because of the betrayal, fake or not. Michael had still betrayed her by not trusting her to be able to deal with the whatever mess he was in. Besides, she’d never be completely certain that he didn’t have at least one fling. Men don’t change their patterns. They are who they are. She and Michael had taken vows for better or worse, and he hadn’t trusted her to be able to deal with the worse. Still, keeping physical reminders of memories made its own problems.
Like what about Seth. How could she keep memories alive on one man when dating another. W
hat did widows do with the remnants of another life when they began a new one? It didn’t help that she was back in the very house where she and Michael began their lives together. When she came in here, she felt connected to the past. A past that no longer threw daggers into her heart. Instead she felt, if not love, contentment. Her life with Michael had been a matching of the minds. He got her, challenged her, and loved her. And then he’d driven her away, she reminded herself.
Back and forth—her heart didn’t know what to feel. She knew she needed to get this last room cleaned out and figure out what Dante might be looking for in her late husband’s things.
“One more box,” she promised herself. She was finally beginning to feel tired. She pulled a new stack of books off the shelf and realized they weren’t on economics. These were history books. Maybe these she should save for the retreat library. She cleared the shelf, then sat down to examine each book.
Flipping through the first one, she saw it dealt with American history. Very general, but Michael had put a bookmark in the section dealing with the 1920s. Michael never marked up books. He said it was defacing them. He would copy whole pages onto his working notebook by hand.
Cat’s thoughts went back to the journal Brit had mentioned Michael writing in. She’d assumed it was the diary that sat on the side table waiting for Cat to read her ex-husband’s thoughts about their lives together. Thoughts he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her directly.
But there should be another journal. Before he’d even think about teaching a class, he studied the subject and wrote pages in a cheap spiral notebook. Cat used to tease him that he could save a whole forest of trees by working on a computer. Michael would shake his head and smile, holding up the notebooks. “Someday, these will be worth millions, once the world learns that your husband was an economic genius. These will pay for our retirement cottage by the sea.”