She punished the carpet with the toe of her sneaker-clad left foot. “You won’t mind if we drop this conversation, will you? Talking about him this way isn’t pleasant. I’m going downstairs. Do you want some coffee?”
“Thanks, but I’d better get on with this.”
She didn’t want any coffee. She wanted an opportunity to regain her emotional equilibrium, and she stood a greater chance of doing that if she put some distance between her and Carson Montgomery. Earlier, she and Gunther had checked the dining room for the will, but she scoured it again, because she disliked wasting time. After about forty minutes, she heard Carson amble down the stairs.
“I was getting worried,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I figured that since I’m down here, I could search the dining room. I didn’t find anything, but ... well, you never can tell.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and let the doorjamb take his weight. “That’s right, you can’t. But you won’t find that will on this floor. If it’s in this house, it’s in Leon Farrell’s bedroom, office / den, or his bathroom, places where no one but he had a right to be.”
“I wasn’t disagreeing with you; I simply can’t stand to do nothing.”
She could see that he didn’t believe her, and as if he’d read her mind, he pushed himself away from the doorway, smiled, and said, “Come upstairs and help me where it might produce fruitful results.” He held out his hand to her, saw that she was not going to take it, half smiled, spun around, and dashed up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
As she watched him bounding up those stairs, she told herself not to think about the man’s strength or his power and what it had potential for. Suck it up, kiddo, she told herself, and keep your head. He’s used to women falling all over him. She waited until he reached the top before she began the climb.
He stood on the landing grinning down at her. “Come on. If you start to fly, I’ll bring you back down to earth.” Punching him out wouldn’t help, but she imagined how good doing so would make her feel.
My Lord. Am I becoming violent? she asked herself, and suddenly laughter poured out of her.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Me. I’m a regular riot.”
When she reached the top step, he grabbed her left hand and pulled her to the landing. “We have another room to do, and I’m getting hungry. You don’t want to be around if I start to starve.”
She knew he was making light of a situation that each of them refused to acknowledge, and if she hadn’t been so disgusted, she probably would have admired him for it. But he was no better a man than she was a woman. And she meant to make that clear to him before they left the house.
“All right,” she said airily, “get out your microscope and let’s get to work.”
“Right on, lady.”
The two of them searched every place and every thing in the bedroom, from the carpet to the drapes, beneath the mattresses, and in every drawer. They took every item from the closets, examined them, and put them back. At twenty minutes past one, Carson stopped and looked at her. “I’m beginning to be starved. Let’s get something to eat. As soon as I wash my hands, I’m ready to go.”
“I was starved an hour ago,” she said, and headed down the stairs. She washed her hands in the guest lavatory, combed her hair, and adjusted her clothing as best she could. The fit of her jeans suggested that she’d lost several pounds since she last put them on.
“So what,” she said to herself. “They suit me.”
She watched Carson trip down the stairs. If she wanted to act the fool, what more pleasing target could she pick?
“Like what you see?” he asked as he reached the floor.
“I’m not sure. I’ll think about it and let you know.”
He put a finger at her elbow and ushered her out the door. “You’ll think about it all right, but that will be the end of it. I’ve got time for a crab sandwich but not at an upscale restaurant like Frigate. What do you suggest?”
“Franks, if you can stand paper napkins and a glass-top table without a tablecloth.”
“I’m hungry enough to eat with no napkin. Let’s go.”
An hour later, she didn’t remember what she ate. The man bothered her. “You don’t have to take me home, Carson. I know you’re in a hurry.”
“I’ve got my first time to go to a woman’s house for her, spend time with her, and not see her safely home.”
He drove to the building in which Gunther lived and walked with her to the door of the apartment. “When are you going back to Fort Lauderdale?”
“Thursday morning. I’m scheduled to join a cruise to Central America, but if you need me, I’ll be back here late next week.”
“I didn’t have the hunt for the will in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked him as her nerves began to battle with each other.
“I want to spend a pleasant evening with you when we’re not lifting furniture, rolling carpets, and creating a lot of dust.”
“I see. Unless my boss thinks otherwise, I’ll be back here Thursday afternoon.”
“Shirley, I like things cut-and-dried. May I call you here Thursday evening?”
“Yes. I ... uh ... I’ll look forward to that.”
“Thanks for that tiny bit of encouragement. And thanks for your help today. You’re a real trouper. Until Thursday next week.”
He didn’t say good-bye, but merely turned and headed for the elevator.
He’d been so impersonal that she’d be a fool to expect anything other than a pleasant evening—as he put it—as a thank-you for her help the past two days. “No,” she said aloud as she locked the door. It was as if he’d decided between giving her a thank-you gift and inviting her to dinner. She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “He’s a nice guy, properly brought up, and no guy who looks like that one is without ties.”
Carson got back to his office, returned several business calls, and telephoned Gunther. “This is Carson. Shirley and I spent the morning at your father’s house. A thorough search of his personal quarters revealed nothing. I need to see his lawyer. Can you confirm for me that Riggs is legally the executor of your father’s will?”
“He is the executor. He secured a writ prohibiting any action in respect to Father’s estate for one year from the date of Father’s death or until the will is located, provided that it is found and produced before the elapse of a year from the time of Father’s death.”
“Smart man. How much time does that give us?”
“Until the fifth of January.”
“I may need to talk with you again around the first of the week. I’ll call you.”
Minutes after he hung up, his assistant called. “Edgar Farrell on line two, Carson.”
“Montgomery speaking. What may I do for you, Mr. Farrell?”
“Somebody was at the house this morning. I put a couple of things in inconspicuous places, and they were moved, not far, but they’d been moved.”
He bristled at that. Don’t lose your temper, man. “Hmm. So now you’re the detective. I went through your father’s personal quarters this morning and made a thorough search. I don’t have to look there again. I put things back as I found them, but I certainly didn’t try to fool anybody into thinking I hadn’t been there. I was doing my job.”
“Yeah. But you haven’t found the will yet, and I’m flat broke.”
“I’m doing my best, and if you begin to harass me—”
“All right. I get it, but, man, if you were in my situation, you’d feel me better.”
“I don’t expect to be in your situation, Edgar, because I’m not afraid of work, no matter how hard. I’d better get to work, because I won’t find that will while talking with you on the phone.”
He hung up and leaned back in his desk chair, musing over the happenings of that morning with Shirley at the Farrell home. The woman was almost as transparent as air, but her innate dignity kept her in line. He hadn’t
had much experience resisting a woman who attracted him when the attraction was mutual, and he didn’t want a relationship with a woman who was, in effect, his client. Yet, he needed an opportunity to clear the air between them, and he hoped a pleasant evening together would be sufficient.
He phoned Donald Riggs. “Mr. Riggs, this is Carson Montgomery. I’ve searched the house, Farrell’s quarters twice, and come up empty-handed. If he had a safe-deposit box, I need access to it.”
“You may try Fairmount or Altman Washington. He had accounts in both. I’ll give you a notarized permit.”
“Thanks, man. I’m anxious to wrap this up.”
“I’m sure of that. I’m surprised Edgar hasn’t driven you crazy by now.”
“My contract with him forbids harassment. I’ll be by your office in an hour. Thanks.”
Carson found safe-deposit boxes in both banks, but neither contained the will or information as to its whereabouts. He informed Riggs of his findings and, for the first time in his career as a detective, admitted that he faced a blank wall.
Gunther met Shirley at the Baltimore / Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport, gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek, and took her bag. “How’d it go in the West Indies?”
“Hot and humid. I don’t see why anyone would want to go there on vacation this time of year.”
“Simple. It’s cheaper.”
“Any news from Carson?”
He hadn’t known that she called the man by his first name. Interesting. “Why ... no. When he finds the will, Edgar will no doubt be the first to know. You didn’t tell me what you thought of Montgomery.”
“When I was with him, his search of Father’s quarters was practically microscopic. He is a thorough man.”
And you’re deliberately misunderstanding me. “I’ve gathered that much from his questions and the things he’s said to me. I mean, as a man, what do you think?”
“Well ...” She paused as if giving herself time to frame her thoughts. “He’s certainly a gentleman, and at the least, he’s a no-nonsense man.”
“Hmm. You’re getting to be a real politician. I suppose dealing with all kinds of people daily would lead to that.”
He put her bags in the trunk of his silver-gray Mercedes, got in, locked the car doors, and headed home. He’d like to know if she planned to see Montgomery but decided that it wasn’t prudent to ask. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him.
Mirna opened the door for them and beamed when she saw Shirley. “Mr. G didn’t tell me you were coming today,” she said, locked her knuckles to her hips, and looked at him with one eye narrowed. “You know if you’d a told me, I’d a had something real good for dinner tonight.”
He patted Mirna’s shoulder. “Everything you cook is good. If I bring a guest home unexpectedly you’d only have to add a place setting, and we’d have a great meal.”
Mirna fixed her gaze on the floor. “Thank you, sir. I try my best to make it like home for you. You love to eat, and I do love to cook. I’m glad you’re satisfied. We’ll have a nice meal tomorrow evening,” Mirna said.
He waited for Shirley to explain her troubled look. “I won’t be in tomorrow evening, Mirna, but thanks for the thought.”
He followed Shirley upstairs and set her bag in her room. “Who are you seeing tomorrow evening?”
She didn’t look at him. “Carson invited me to ‘a pleasant evening.’ I don’t know what it will consist of.”
“Is something shaping up between you two?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said or done anything to suggest it.”
“I don’t believe that. You didn’t ask him out, did you?”
“Of course not,” she said, bristling.
“Then pay attention. If you’re attracted to him, it’s more than likely mutual.”
She walked past him without looking at him. “Thanks for the reassurance. I think I’ll rest for a few minutes. I’ve been up since five this morning.”
He remembered that he’d left his briefcase and laptop in the trunk of his car and went down to get them. “You’re off this afternoon,” he told Mirna. “Shirley or I will cook, or we’ll eat out.”
“Thank you, sir, but I already cooked your dinner. Just heat up those roasted Cornish hens in the oven. They’re stuffed with brown rice. There’s a salad in the refrigerator and you can warm up the string beans.”
“Wonderful.” He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out his billfold, and gave her twenty-five dollars. “Treat yourself and a friend to a movie.”
“Oh, dear! Thank you so much. I sure do appreciate this, and I’m gonna spend it on a movie, too.” She dashed to the telephone and dialed a number. “Frieda. Girl, Mr. G just gave me money to see a movie with a friend. I’ll be off in about an hour. Wanna see Harry Potter?”
“Okay. We can make the five-thirty, and I’ll have time to go home, fix us a picnic supper, and be at the movie at five-twenty or so. We can have the picnic in Banneker Park. If you go straight from work, you’ll find a parking spot not far from the theater. Okay? See you at the movie.”
She turned, looked at Gunther, and smiled. “I sure do thank you. My girlfriend is always doing nice things for people, and I feel good that I can take her to a movie. The Lord gon’ bless you, Mr. G.”
“Thanks, Mirna. I’m already blessed. It took me a while to figure that out, but I know it now.”
He hoped he’d helped Mirna raise her status in her friend’s eyes. No one liked to be always on the receiving end of largesse. In a good friendship, giving was reciprocal. Whistling in contentment, he went to the room he used for an office—the smallest of the three bedrooms—took out his computer, and began designing a game in which the children of a community found a way to welcome a foreign-born child who didn’t speak English. It wouldn’t be an easy task, but if he could pull it off, it would be a big seller.
When the phone rang, he saw Lissa’s number in the caller ID and didn’t answer. He’d switched his focus to Caroline. As far as he was concerned, Lissa did not exist. A thought struck him. He’d better find out what Carson Montgomery was made of, and he did not intend to wait until the man hurt his sister. He dialed the Ellicott City Police Department.
“Sergeant Fowler, please.” He waited a few seconds. “Matt, this is Gunther. Edgar hired Carson Montgomery, a detective, to find our father’s will. Do you know anything about this guy?”
“Sure. He’s first-rate. Excellent reputation. The department uses him when we’re in a pinch. Fine man, too. That must be the smartest thing Edgar’s done in years.”
“That was my estimation, Matt, but I needed to be sure.”
“You mean your old man had a will and put it where no one could find it? That’s stupid.”
“Mean is more like it. Thanks for your help.”
“Any time, friend.”
He got busy on his computer game. Thank goodness he didn’t have to worry about Shirley and Carson Montgomery. If the man was decent, Shirley could definitely hold her own with him. Don’t be too sure about that. Men are different from women, especially good-looking ones.
When the phone rang at six-thirty, Shirley raced to answer it. “Hello.” She hated that she sounded out of breath.
“May I please speak with Ms. Shirley Farrell?”
“Hi, Carson. This is Shirley.”
“I thought so, but I wanted to be certain. How are you, and when did you get there?”
“I’m fine, thank you. My plane got in a few minutes after noon, and Gunther met me and brought me home with him.”
“Nice brother. I’ve looked forward to our date. Will you have dinner with me?”
“Yes. How do you dress for dinner?”
“Depends. For dinner with you, I’ll look as sharp as I can. I’d like to call for you at six-thirty tomorrow. Would that suit you?”
“Six-thirty is fine.”
“Good. If you’ve got any questions about the will, ask me now, because that’s not on my agenda for
tomorrow evening.”
“If you had anything to tell, would I have to ask?”
“I’m obligated to deliver the result of my work first to Edgar. But I don’t have anything to report other than that your father had accounts at Fairmount and Altman Washington Banks and safe-deposit boxes in both. I checked the boxes. Neither one contained the will.”
“Carson, I’m beginning to wonder if my father was loony.”
“Your father was as sound as the United States mint. He had a reason for this, and we shall someday know what it was. I’ll see you tomorrow at six-thirty. Have a lovely, restful evening.”
“Thanks. I wish you the same.”
She hung up and flopped down on her bed. If his interest in her exceeded a gracious thank-you for helping him, he had yet to show it. Keep it cool, girl, she said to herself, but he planned to look as sharp as he could, so she’d do the same. She opened a shoe box and removed a pair of black patent-leather sandals with three-inch heels. She didn’t dare wear the five-inch ones, because she was already five feet, eight inches tall.
“Was that Edgar who called a minute ago?” Gunther asked.
“No, it wasn’t.” If he wanted her to tell him who called her, he’d have to ask outright.
When six-thirty arrived the following evening, she was dressed in a figure-hugging coral-silk dress, knee-length and sleeveless. Nobody had to tell her that she looked great. Her hair touched her shoulders. Marcasite earrings dangled from her ears, and a diamond sparkled at the edge of her cleavage.
“Good Lord,” Gunther said after emitting a sharp whistle. “Whoever the guy is, he’s definitely in for trouble. You’ve come up a few notches since you moved out of Father’s house.”
“It wasn’t difficult. He cramped everybody’s style.” She had not planned to let Gunther stand between her and that door when the bell rang, but he’d managed it, and she knew he did it intentionally.
“I’ll get it,” he said, already halfway to the door.
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