by J. S. Marlo
“Yes, but that’s no good reason to keep playing in the dirt.”
The handyman’s entrenched opinion offered a sharp contrast to his usual offhand attitude.
“How long have you been working at Buccaneer?” Avery couldn’t help but ask again.
“A long time.” Bill’s eyes lost their focus as he gazed toward the ocean. “A very long time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a table to fetch.”
Chapter Twenty
Seated at the kitchen table, Rowan melted over the pictures her pa had brought with him.
With her huge blue eyes and fuzzy black hair, Ember wasn’t cute; she was gorgeous. One picture was all it took for Rowan to fall in love with her niece. And each new picture intensified a longing she hadn’t known existed in her heart. She wanted children one day, but she’d never given them much thought…until today.
Behind her, Gail gushed in admiration. “Isn’t she adorable with her thumb in her tiny little mouth? That’s one precious babe, Mr. H.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” Across the table, her pa beamed like a proud grandfather. “She has her grandmother wrapped around her little finger.”
“And that’s coming from the man who emptied the teddy bear stores? Sure.” As the grin on his face grew wider, Rowan couldn’t contain her laughter. “I thought Mom would have come with you.”
His expression sobered up. “There are several forest fires in the northern part of the province, and Hunter’s team was mobilized. Your mom couldn’t leave Piper alone with a brand-new baby…and dark worries.”
“No, she couldn’t.” After losing two husbands to fire, her mother understood her son’s duty and her daughter-in-law’s predicament better than anyone else. “You didn’t make the trip east just to give me the pictures, did you?”
Gail’s breath stopped tickling her neck as Rowan slipped the pictures back into the envelope marked EMBER-RO’S NIECE in her mother’s handwriting.
“No. I’m on a promotional tour in Halifax for the next few days, and since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d pay my Little Shamrock a visit.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. Five hours away wasn’t exactly in the neighborhood. “Would you stay for the night?”
“If you have a room available, I’d much prefer staying here than in any hotel.”
Gail tossed a dishtowel onto the back of a kitchen chair. “I’ll get the Lobster Room ready, Miss Rowan.”
“Thank you, Gail.” With Gail on the task, Rowan didn’t need to worry about her pa’s comfort. She stood up and moved around the table to where he sat. “Would you like a tour of Buccaneer?”
He sprang up and laced his arm through hers. “I’d love a grand tour. And I’d love to hear all about Buccaneer’s history. Your mom told me you’re adding branches to the family tree.”
“More like twigs with no leaves.” Over the last two years, she’d developed a strong long-distance relationship with her new pa, and she enjoyed being able to talk to him about her father and her dad without being afraid of hurting his feelings.
“No luck finding more about your grandfather? No new secret letters?”
“No, but when I have time, I’ll go to the library and look for old newspaper articles—just in case.” She took him outside and showed him the improvements she’d made around the house. “I want to paint the exterior walls, and I’m leaning toward gray. What do you think?”
“What about—” When he hesitated, she looked up at him. A huge smile cracked his face and crackled his eyes. “Green?”
“Pa!” The man was incorrigible. He made no secret of the first thing he fell in love with when he met her mother. Her green eyes. Shamrock was the nickname he’d given her mom, and by extension, she’d become Little Shamrock. “I grew up in a green house, remember? No green for me.”
“Aren’t you afraid gray might darken the façade too much?”
“Not stormy gray. More like—” In the garden, there were flowers the right shade of gray. She led him toward the flowerbed closest to the woods. “That kind of gray.” She reached out and delicately fingered a soft petal. The name of the flower escaped her mind, but the petals were a light gray with a tinge of blue.
“That is a nice color, and it would accentuate the red roof.” His gaze traveled to the house. “What about the shutters?”
“Black or red.” Neither color met Bill’s approval, not that she cared. “I thought I’d see what the house looks like first.”
He slowly nodded. “You could go with red shutters around the windows of the first floor and black shutters on the second floor.”
Then red again for the attic window. The idea had merit, lots of merits. “I like that.”
“I’m glad I could provide some insights.” A soft kiss landed on the top of her head. “You’re doing an amazing job, Little Shamrock. Your mother and I are very proud of you.”
The compliment warmed her heart. They walked in silence until they reached the bench near the stream. “This is one of my favorite places.” Along with the little secluded beach with jellyfish.
The crystal-clear water running down the shallow stream sparkled under the sun. She sat on the bench, and he joined her. “It’s very peaceful. Your mother would love to sit here and read.”
In need of human comfort, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “When life is giving me a headache, I come here or walk on the trails.”
He slipped an arm behind her and pulled her into a tender embrace, like her dad used to do when she was a little girl. “I talked to the insurance agent this morning while I was waiting in Toronto for my connection. Just fax him the police report once you have it; I’ll take care of the rest.”
Her parents were steady rocks on which she could count, and Rowan appreciated their help. “You’re the best, Pa.”
“I try.” He gently stroked her shoulder. “Now, the agent did say it might take a month before you see a check.”
“A month?” Hoping for a quick settlement, she’d postponed renting a car. Time to rethink that idea. “Would you give me a ride into town later today so I can rent a car?”
“Sure, but wouldn’t you prefer we go shopping for a new car? I’ll advance you the money, and you can pay me back when the insurance settles the claim.”
“Really? Mom is going to put you on a leash if you keep spoiling me,” she teased, eager to heed the suggestion.
The remark elicited a chuckle. “I cleared it with your mom first, so I’m safe. Now, tell me, aside from your car thief, did you see any other interesting guests, by any chance?”
Puzzled by the question, she inched away to look at his expression. “I see lots of interesting characters, some charming…and some I’d rather not welcome again. Why?”
His hand stilled on her shoulder. “I was hoping Bjorn might have tried to contact you.”
“Me too.” The words had flown out of her mouth before she could recall them, and tears stung her eyes. Dejected, she sank deeper into his arms, and he held her close to his heart.
“You still love him, don’t you?”
The tears she’d fought hard for months to repress flowed down her cheeks. Even if she lied, her pa wouldn’t believe her, so she nodded. “But it’s too late. If I could forget about him, it would make my life much easier.”
“You can’t run away from your feelings, Little Shamrock.” His voice caressed her like a breeze on a hot summer day. “What happened in Iceland?”
“I wanted to go with him on an excursion, but I was too sick. He should have left me alone in the apartment.” Swept through the painful memories, she hung onto his shirt. “Instead, he asked his grandmother to look after me.”
“I’m confused. Doesn’t that mean he cares about you?”
“I know he does, except—” The words burned her tongue. “We talked about getting married, Pa, but—” A branch cracked in the woods. She looked above his shoulder. Near the stream, a bush rustled, and a bird took flight. She glimpsed a shadow on the path, but
the vision was so brief, she might as well have imagined it.
“But what?” Seemingly unperturbed by the noise, he searched her face. “Did he change his mind?”
“No. It’s complicated.”
“I’m not leaving until morning, Little Shamrock.” Love and compassion radiated from his eyes. “It gives us lots of time to uncomplicate it.”
“Uncomplicate” wasn’t a verb, and even if it were, it’d be too late to uncomplicate anything. “If I tell you, do you promise not to intervene?”
A sigh whistled through her hair. “Why do I have a feeling I’ll regret that promise?”
***
In the windowless garage, two large wooden beams crossed the unfinished ceiling, and a lone bulb hung over the table, shining a yellowish glow over the clean bones resting on the white paper cloth.
Avery turned the scapula in his hands to examine it at every angle. Two narrow grooves marked the anterior portion of the shoulder bone.
“Interesting.” They didn’t resemble any teeth marks or claw marks he’d ever seen. To be certain, he needed a magnifier like the flashlight magnifier he kept in his office desk.
His stomach growled, a reminder of the late hour. Reluctantly, he returned the bone to the table, turned off the light, and locked the garage door behind him. Bill’s truck and the stepfather’s rental car were gone from the driveway.
As Avery stepped into the vestibule, dry mud peeled off his shoes, leaving chalky clumps on the spotless floor. Bloody hell. Dirt must have splashed on them while he washed the bones.
He removed his dirty shoes and swept the floor with the broom pushed into the corner before heading for the kitchen, where a scrumptious, beefy aroma teased his nostrils.
Near the stove, Gail was stirring the contents of a pot. “I’m running late, Mr. S.” With each twist of her wrist, dark droplets splattered onto her apron. “Supper won’t be ready for another hour.”
The smell alone could sustain him for another hour. “It’s fine. Where’s Miss Rowan?”
“She went car shopping with her father. He’s such a charming man, and he’s staying for the night. I may just start watching that western show he’s in.”
Women’s fascination for actors was overrated. As he sat at the table, his gaze settled on the thick envelope on the placemat in front of him. “Ember? Ro’s niece?” Since the envelope was in plain view, he had no qualms about looking inside.
“Miss Rowan’s new niece. Isn’t she cute?”
“She’s adorable.” Rachel hadn’t wanted to know the sex of the baby, but the autopsy had revealed she’d expected a girl. “What’s wrong with her eyes?”
“Nothing. Why?”
Maybe the light from the ceiling was playing tricks on him. “It looks like one is much lighter than the other.”
“Eyes of two different colors run in Miss Rowan’s family. It comes from her father’s side.”
“Interesting.” He tucked the pictures back inside the envelope. Ro, the name scribbled on the front, reminded Avery of the tall, broad stranger that Bill had chased away. The guy had called her Ro. “Do you know if Ro is Rowan’s pet name?”
“Her father calls her Little Shamrock. It sounds Irish to me, but if I recall, that’s not where she went to school.”
“No, she went to Iceland for two years.” All of a sudden, he recognized the stranger’s accent. It was Scandinavian. A stronger version of the one rolling off Rowan’s tongue. “I need to go into town for an hour, but I’ll be back for supper.”
***
The sign on the door at the car rental place said OPEN DAILY FROM 8AM TILL 6PM, and his watch said 5:49 p.m. Exaggerating his disability, Avery struggled with his cane through the door and limped to the counter.
“Hello, luv.”
The pretty brunette giggled like a teenager. “You brightened my day, sir. What can I do for you?”
“I’m in a bind here.” Leaning his elbow on the counter, he looked her in the eyes. “I ran into car trouble yesterday, and a nice, strapping fellow with a foreign accent helped me out. I forgot his name, and he left in a Budget rental car before I had a chance to thank him properly. You think you could find his name and address so I can send him a thank you note?”
“I’m—” Her head pivoted right and left as she glanced around the empty office. “I’m not supposed to give personal information.”
“Please, luv. He was driving a white four-door sedan, and the first three letters of the plate were R-E-D.” At the time, he’d made the connection with Red Eye, and hadn’t paid attention to the last three digits.
“Let me see what I can find out.” She typed something on her computer.
If Bill had taken the time to ask the young fellow his name before showing him the door, Avery wouldn’t have needed to concoct that story. He wondered if the handyman had mentioned the visit to Rowan. Probably not. If Rowan had learned of Bill’s gruff attitude costing Buccaneer a guest, she would have vocalized her indignation, and Avery would have more than likely heard about it. In the name of peace and quietness, Avery might also want to remember to keep his mouth shut. As a guest, it would be rude of him to start a war between Rowan and Bill.
“I have a Bjorn Arnarsson, sir.”
Scandinavian name. “Yeah, that sounds like my young fellow. Do you have an address?”
“Yes, but it’s in Iceland. Let me write it down for you.”
One more name to mention to Lancaster next time he talked to him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Awoken at dawn by the chirpy birds, Avery retreated on an empty stomach into the garage. So far he’d identified twenty-nine ribs, ten of them sporting unusual marks. Those marks don’t add up.
Secluded with his laptop, a case of beer, a couple cans of tomato juice, and his stack of bones, he mixed another Red Eye. The bittersweet taste invigorated his senses.
In need of a diversion, he contemplated going inside for breakfast. The roar of an engine growing louder and louder muffled the sound of his stool skidding on the concrete floor. Drink in hand, he strode to the door, opened it slightly, and peeked outside.
The wolf is back. The obnoxious doctor had arrived in his sport car with the roof down. Bright and early.
Once the doctor entered Buccaneer, Avery left the confines of the garage and approached the convertible. Without his cane, he was prone to stumble. It’d be a shame if he lost his footing and spilled the contents of his glass onto the beige leather seat. Nothing stained like tomato juice.
An old-fashioned doctor’s bag rested on the backseat. The wrinkled leather resembled a shriveled mummy and smelled like musk. With the money Malcolm made, surely he could afford a newer carrying case for his medical instruments.
The prank slipped from Avery’s mind, replaced by a more practical idea. He glanced toward the house. No one was looking through the windows. He downed his glass in one shot and placed it on the trunk, then leaned over the side of the car and reached for the bag. With his thumbs, he unsnapped the clasps. The bag cracked open on the backseat.
What are these, Malcolm? Grandpa’s instruments of torture? The outdated medical instruments appeared in less than pristine conditions. If the previous rightful owner of the bag called himself a doctor, he had to carry some sort of magnifying tool to check the throats of his patients.
A smile pulled on his mouth as he closed his fingers around an otoscope. Your contribution to science is greatly appreciated, Doctor.
He borrowed the instrument with a silent promise to return it at the earliest opportunity.
***
“You’re up early, Little Shamrock.”
Rowan lifted her head from the newspaper she was reading at the kitchen table and smiled. “That’s the downside of running a bed-and-breakfast. Have a seat.”
“Coffee, Mr. H? Or would you prefer a glass of that fancy red wine Miss Rowan opened last night? There’s still a few ounces at the bottom of the bottle.”
“Thanks, Gail, but I don’t drin
k wine at breakfast.” He pulled out the chair next to her and sat. “I’ll take a coffee, please. Black.”
Within seconds, a steamy cup was deposited on the table in front of him. “Here you go. What can I make for you this morning? Eggs or pancakes?”
His gaze traveled from Gail to Rowan. “No special treatment. I’ll have what the other guests are having.”
“Gail spoils all the guests,” Rowan murmured in a conspiring tone.
“Not all the guests, Miss Rowan. Only the ones I like.” Gail winked at Blythe.
“Gail, when I bring my wife here, she’ll love it so much she won’t want to leave.”
Hope swelled inside Rowan’s chest. “And when would that be?”
“As soon as your brother is back, I promise we’ll come visit you.”
That had to be the best news Rowan had heard in a long time.
“Having you and Miss Rowan’s mother around will be a pleasure, Mr. H.” Any prouder, and the seams of Gail’s apron would burst. “So? What would satisfy your appetite this morning?”
“I’m partial to pancakes.”
A door creaked, followed by heavy footsteps in the hallway. Rowan craned her neck and gasped in surprise.
Chris entered the kitchen with a bouquet of white lilies in his hands. “Rowan, this is—” At the sight of her stepfather, he arched a brow. “A new guest?”
The impromptu visit added a dark cloud to her otherwise magnificent morning. “Pa, this is Chris—”
“Doctor Chris Malcolm, Rowan’s boyfriend.” The emphasis on his title irritated Rowan more than the boyfriend reference. “I heard a lot about you, sir. Nice meeting you.” He extended his hand.
“Really?” Her pa sported one of his famous poker faces. Without standing up, he shook Chris’s hand. “Isn’t it a bit early for a house call, Chris?”