“Charm is over-rated.” She stopped her hand half a second before it reached to smooth her hair, gave herself a stern reminder that just because he was flirting didn’t mean she was going to flirt back.
“Is Mal charming?” he asked.
The question caught her by surprise. Was Mal charming? She’d thought so at first, but now she wasn’t so sure. He was handsome, certainly. The thought of his unruly curls and dimpled smile made her face feel hot. He seemed honest and decent and sometimes adorably awkward. The kind of guy who would fix your car or move your furniture with no strings attached, and the truth was, that very steadfastness terrified her.
She knew what to expect from charming, unreliable men. Her father had been one, and so had her fiancé—though Jax’s charm had vanished near the end—and if she gave in to the impulse that attracted her to Guy, she would know exactly what she was getting into. His dark side was right out in plain view.
A guy like Mal, though? Where was his dark side? Her mother’s warning rang in her ears: If a man seems too good to be true…
He had a quiet energy that made her feel a little too safe and a little too comfortable, but how much of the Mal she’d seen was a mask?
Slowly, she answered, “No. No, Mal’s not charming.”
Guy smiled as if he’d won a point.
“You said it was complicated,” she said, bringing him back to the topic of the shares. “Why is it complicated?”
He took a long breath. He was getting tired; the exhaustion showed on his face.
“Do you need me to leave now, let you rest?” She willed him to say no. A quick shake of his head eased her tension.
“Laura’s not the only person I sold shares to. There’s someone else, not one of the Troupe. More like a silent partner. And if Laura died without a will, her shares would come to me and he’d get half of those. Yeah, I’d still have more, but he’s pushing me to sell, and he can make things very tough if I don’t come through for him.”
Robbi rolled her lower lip between her teeth. If this silent partner knew that Laura had been buying shares, maybe he’d assumed she didn’t have a will. And maybe he’d killed her to put those shares back into play.
Guy’s voice broke. “I guess I’ve made a royal mess of things.”
She reached over and patted Guy’s hand again. “You have, Guy. I can’t lie about that. But it’s water under the bridge.” An image of Laura’s body flashed through her mind, and she wished she’d used a different phrase. Shaking it off, she said, “Right now, we have to find out who tried to kill you and stop them before they finish the job.”
Chapter Nine
Sheriff Hammond was waiting for her beside Old Reliable. Not just waiting. His furtive expression and the quick bump of his hip against the back door when she said his name told her he’d looked inside.
“Pretty sure I locked that,” she said.
“Nah.” He leaned against the side of the car. “Door was ajar. I was just making sure everything looked okay. No vandalism or anything. Weird setup for a little gal like you.”
“It’s for my bird.” As she’d explained to him before, she’d used a screen to separate the front seat from the rest of the car, then flattened the back seat and divided the rear two-thirds of the mini-SUV into halves, the driver’s side with a perch running end to end for Falcor and the passenger side for storage.
“Right,” he said. “Been up to see Guy, have you?”
What did you say to a question that obvious? “For a bit.”
“Don’t guess you’ll be staying, now that your friend’s gone.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Something about his assumption set her teeth on edge. She liked it here. It made her feel closer to Laura. It got her away from reminders of her life with Jax. And if she were perfectly honest, it didn’t hurt that two good-looking men seemed to be vying for her attention. Her self-esteem had taken a beating during the past year and a half, and it was nice to be treated like a bright, attractive woman and not like, as Jax had once called her, “a self-absorbed little witch who cares more for a useless lump of feathers than about being a partner.”
The worst part was the fear that it might be true. Sure, she’d helped pay his way through school, and sure, she’d forgiven him twice for sleeping with her so-called “friends,” and she couldn’t even count the times she’d spent the whole night helping him with an assignment, then dragged into her first class, bleary-eyed, just a few minutes before the undergraduates she was supposed to teach.
But there were also the dinners she’d missed because her kestrel needed to be flown and the Saturday mornings she’d skipped breakfast in bed in favor of archery practice. Did being a partner mean she didn’t deserve a life of her own? If it did, then Jax was right. She wasn’t cut out for it.
Maybe she really was too much her father’s child.
The sheriff was staring at her expectantly. With an apologetic smile, she said, “What makes you think that?”
A muscle in his jaw pulsed. “Seems to me you’d want to high-tail it out of here quick as you can. Not like you’ve got any ties to this place. Just bad memories, if you were as close to your friend as you say you were.”
She clamped her teeth to keep the angry words inside. Finally she gritted, “Sheriff Sensitive.”
He shrugged. “They don’t pay me to be sensitive. They pay me to catch criminals. Like maybe a young woman who’d kill her best friend over a few shares in a Renaissance Faire.”
Robbi’s breath caught. Somehow, he knew about Laura’s will. But how? She imagined a deputy finding the hidden compartment, then carefully concealing it again after reading the documents. A trap for her.
He smirked as if reading the question in her eyes. “I talked to Miss Bainbridge’s attorney.”
“But attorney-client privilege….”
He crossed his arms, still leaning against the driver’s side door. “Ends when the client dies. Unless she had an executor or representative lined up who could invoke it for her. Which she didn’t.”
Robbi didn’t answer. She had no idea if this was true, or if, as Laura’s beneficiary, she could invoke privilege on her friend’s behalf. Joanne might know. Surely, she’d picked that up sometime during law school. But did it matter now? Even if he was lying—or mistaken—she couldn’t make him forget what he’d learned.
The sheriff went on. “Something you might want to think about. One person has been killed, another poisoned, possibly if not probably because of those shares. Assuming you’re not the killer, the smartest thing you could do would be sell those shares to Guy and go back home.”
“Guy can’t afford those shares. And even if he could, I wouldn’t sell. The Troupe would all lose their homes.”
“They’re going to lose them anyway. That place is going under. The only question is whether they leave with a sack full of cash or a pocket full of nothing.”
She stiffened. “Why do you care so much about these shares anyway?”
“Protect and serve.” His nostrils flared. “It says so on my badge. I’d hate to see those folks lose everything.”
That was a load of hogwash if she’d ever heard one. Cocking her head, she weighed his words against everything she’d learned. Then she said, “You’re Guy’s silent partner.”
His eyes went cold. “Be careful, little girl,” he said.
He was bigger than she was. Much bigger. And he wasn’t just a small-town law enforcement officer. In this small town, she knew, he was the law. Ignoring the chill shooting down her spine, she stepped into his space, her heart pounding in her ears.
“You’re in my way,” she said. For a moment, he stared her down. Then, with a chilly smile, he stepped aside. As she climbed behind the wheel, she looked back over her shoulder and added, “And I’m not a little girl.”
Still seething over the sheriff’s insinuations, Robbi pulled into the employee parking lot and headed through the Seasonals’ campground toward the Loop. Guy’s castle looked lone
ly, even with its ramparts shining in the sun, but she knew that was only her imagination.
As she passed Dale’s cottage on the way to Laura’s—now her own, she realized with a pang—she found herself turning up the cobbled path to his door. Her pulse quickened. Maybe she was about to meet the man who had stolen Laura’s heart. Or maybe she was about to meet the man who had stolen her best friend’s life.
He answered on the fourth knock, wearing patched jeans and a stained shirt, a yellow-tinged rag in his hand. He smelled of linseed oil. Probably polishing one of his handcrafted instruments.
He was a medium-sized man with an average build and an open, ordinary face. Medium-brown hair, mud-colored eyes, a shy, sad smile.
“Laura’s friend,” he said, stepping aside to let her pass. “I’m not dressed for company, but come on in. I’ll open a window, get rid of some of this smell.”
“I’m used to it,” she said. “Sometimes I use linseed oil to finish my arrows.”
“Archer. Right.” He moved a box of mandolin strings from a chair so she could sit. She perched on the edge, back rigid with tension, trying to look relaxed. “Laura said you were a regular William Tell.”
Robbi smiled at the memory, and a little of the tension drained away. “I tried to shoot an apple off her head when we were kids. Hit her square in the middle of the forehead. Thank goodness I used a suction cup and not a real arrowhead.”
“She said she had a red circle on her forehead for three days.”
She looked around, trying to get a sense of the man. The furniture was functional rather than beautiful, with a large workstation against one wall and a flat-panel TV screen on another. On a table beside the couch, an open bottle of linseed oil stood next to a half-finished hammered dulcimer. It was beautiful, its trapezoidal body sanded smooth, the polished woods gleaming in the light.
“Cherry wood body,” he said, following her gaze. “The sounding board is yellow poplar. It can take upwards of a hundred hours to get her oiled. Takes a while to get the wood pores filled.”
“Labor of love,” she acknowledged.
He twisted the cap back onto the bottle of oil. “Can I get you something? A drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
“Captain Morgan and Coke.”
“Sounds fine.” While he puttered in the kitchen, she fidgeted in her chair. In light of Guy’s poisoning, she wasn’t sure it was wise to accept a drink from a stranger. But surely he wouldn’t poison her in his own home, when she might have told anyone she was coming here. Still, maybe she should just pretend to sip it.
A row of photos on the mantel caught her eye, and she got up to take a closer look. In one, Dale and a man who could only be his brother flanked an older woman with a brightly-colored scarf wrapped, turban-style, around her head. In the next, the whole Troupe smiled out from a silver frame. Then, Laura and Dale, his arms around her from behind, both laughing. They looked ridiculously happy, his cheek pressed to her flaming curls, the lights of a Christmas tree glowing behind them.
He came out of the kitchen, two glasses in one hand, a liter of Coke in the other, and a bottle of spiced rum tucked under his arm. He fixed the drinks while she watched, then handed Robbi one and nodded toward the Christmas photo. “She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”
“This was taken at Christmas? This past Christmas?”
“The week before. We spent that week in Gatlinburg, then I went on to my brother’s and she drove up to spend the holiday with you.” His eyes misted. “She didn’t mention me?”
“She said she’d been seeing someone. Someone special. But she didn’t want to say too much because she didn’t want to jinx it.”
And because Robbi had just broken up with Jax. Laura hadn’t wanted to flaunt her happiness. This time the stab of guilt made Robbi’s eyes burn.
I should have noticed. I should have been a better friend.
“I assumed that was—”
“You assumed it was Mal.”
“When did he find out?”
“He knew all along.” Dale tilted his hand and watched the liquid swirl in his glass. “I think he knew before we did.”
She looked back at the photo, at the joy in her friend’s smile, and took a sip of her drink, savoring the sweetness and the spice. “You make it all sound very civilized. But Joanna said—”
“That they broke up a few days ago? I guess that’s what most people thought.”
“But why? If Mal knew all along, why the charade?”
He downed half his drink and set it on the table, then settled onto the sofa and pulled the dulcimer onto his lap. “Miller creeped her out. Always staring at her like he wanted to chain her up in the basement. Then there was Guy. He’s a cool dude and all, but everybody knows what a player he is. He and Cara used to have a thing, and she’s still kind of prickly about it. So Laura didn’t want to give him any encouragement. She wasn’t interested in a fling, and she knew watching him pursue her would just hurt Cara.”
That was like Laura, compassionate yet clear-eyed. Robbi took another sip of the spiced cola and felt the warmth spread from her stomach to her head. “But where does Mal come in?”
He opened the bottle and tipped more linseed oil onto the rag, then stroked a layer of oil across the surface of the instrument. “She and Mal got to be friends. They hung out all the time, talked about everything. And they decided if they acted like they were together, she wouldn’t have to worry about other guys. You know.” With circular strokes, he began to rub the oil into the wood. “Unwelcome advances. She wasn’t looking to hook up with anybody, and he wasn’t either. So—”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why wasn’t he looking to hook up with anybody?”
He gestured with the rag. The spot beneath had taken on a glossy smoothness. “Dude got burned bad. Nightmare marriage, worse divorce. Truth is, though, I still can’t believe they didn’t go for each other.” He looked down at the light reflecting in the burnished wood. “I didn’t think I stood a chance.”
His voice broke. She wanted to comfort him, but he seemed like a shy guy, and she thought it might embarrass him. “You must have loved her a lot.”
“The minute I saw her.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “It took longer for her. She’s…she was such a bright flame, and I’m just kind of…ordinary. But she heard me sing and play one night, and she seemed to enjoy it. We got to talking about music, and then we started talking about other things. Pretty soon we were getting together almost every day. And then one day she looked at me, and I knew she felt the same way I did. So I asked her about Mal, and that’s when she told me about their little ruse.” He gave a funny little laugh. “I’ve never felt so relieved in my life.”
He stood up and plucked a CD from a box beside the bookcase. “I wrote a song for her that night. ‘Touch of a Phoenix.’ First song on the track. I thought I’d sing it for her at our wedding.”
“Wait. Wedding?”
“We hadn’t made it official yet. I was supposed to give her the ring after you got here, so we could announce it to everyone at the same time. Now…” He pushed the CD into her hand and sank back onto the couch, rubbing the dulcimer with unnecessary vigor.
“Why didn’t you guys come clean once she told you about Mal?” she asked softly. “I mean, with you in the picture, there was no need for the subterfuge.”
“We never kept it a secret. But we’re both pretty private people, and we didn’t make a big deal about it. She kept hanging out with Mal and me, and people just kept thinking they were a couple. I mean, look at him. Who in their right mind would look at the two of us and think a girl like Laura would pick me?”
He didn’t say it like it bothered him, more like it was just a fact of life he’d long ago made peace with. Yet, the more they talked, the more Robbi could see what had drawn Laura to him.
He went on. “Eventually, it just started getting silly. A couple of days ago, Joanne said something a
bout the two of them, and Mal said that they weren’t together anymore and that she was with me. And there was a little bit of hoopla about that, and then everyone moved on.” He swirled his glass and watched the little whirlpool form and fade. “At least, I thought they did.”
Robbi leaned forward, cupping her glass with both hands. “What about your shares in the Ren Faire? What made you sell them to her?”
“Sell them?” The surprise on his face seemed genuine. “I gave them to her. And why wouldn’t I? Either we’d get married and it wouldn’t matter who owned them, or we wouldn’t, and I couldn’t bear to stay.” His gaze drifted toward the Christmas photo with Laura. “I know this is a sappy thing to say, but I don’t know how I’m going to live without her.”
Robbi nodded, tears springing to her eyes. “Neither do I.”
Mal and Laura were only friends! Her heart’s leap of joy at the thought seemed both premature and inappropriate. She hardly knew the man, and from the sound of things, he had almost as much baggage as she did. Not to mention, she should not be thinking of romance when her best friend had been murdered.
Doofus. She could almost feel Laura’s punch on her arm. Carpe Diem, girlfriend. Carpe every single freaking diem that you’re given.
Of course, Laura would tell her go for it. But the image of her friend drove all thoughts of courtship from Robbi’s mind. She’d been so busy absorbing her new reality and wondering who was responsible for Laura’s murder and Guy’s poisoning that she hadn’t even thought of the other implications. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to think of them.
Someone had to claim Laura’s body. Someone had to make funeral arrangements. Maybe have them play the song Dale had written, have someone read Laura’s favorite poem. Someone had to get a copy of the death certificate and notify…who? Laura’s bank and creditors, friends from college and the Ren Faire circuit. Those contacts would be in her phone. But who was left to handle those details? No one but Robbi.
But unless Laura had thought to give her that authority, Robbi might not have a legal right to handle any of that. What would happen then?
Trouble Most Faire Page 9