“Hm, a visitor,” Benno stated. “Expecting anyone?”
“No. Maybe they found Kenneth.”
Breakfast and disagreement forgotten, Sydney was through the house in a flash. Indeed, when she opened the front door, the police car was the first thing she saw. The white Porsche behind it the second. A sleek young woman in a fire-engine silk red sundress swung her long legs out of the sportscar and set her strappy red-sandaled feet on the pavement. Officer Mick Brickman almost tripped over his own feet to help her alight.
“Well, well, at last,” Benno murmured from behind Sydney. “The hen has come home to roost.”
Sydney stared at Martha Lord. The young woman’s cloud of curly dark brown hair formed her only connection to her older brother. Where Kenneth’s features were chiseled and beautiful in a masculine way, Martha’s were merely sharp. She clung to Brickman’s arm and stared. Her deep set dark brown eyes narrowed unattractively as they flicked over Sydney’s black spandex knee length pants, black T and loose black and fluorescent green striped top that exposed one shoulder and most of the other.
Tone hostile, she said, “So you’re the little tramp who claims to have married my brother. What did you do to him?”
Appalled, Sydney had no response. That didn’t daunt the woman who went on castigating her.
“You must have plotted to get at Kenneth’s money. Don’t think you’re going to get away.”
”Martha,” Benno cut in smoothly as he set a protective hand on Sydney’s shoulder. “You’re in top viper form this morning.”
The young woman gazed up at the officer and demanded, “Brick, what the hell is he doing here?”
“I don’t know,” the policeman answered, straightening his pants under his paunch. “What are you doing here, DeMartino? Consoling the widow so soon?”
Flushing at the inference, Sydney was about to tell him off when she felt Benno’s fingers tense on her flesh.
“Mr. DeMartino is here at my invitation, Officer Brickman. Do you find that a problem?”
“Maybe.” Brickman’s brows furrowed, deepening the puffy bags under his small gray-blue eyes. “You oughta be careful about who you associate with.”
She assured him, “I do choose my friends carefully.”
“And your husbands? Uh, supposed husbands?” Martha corrected herself. Dragging Brickman by the arm, she pushed her way past Sydney and Benno and through the front door. “Come on. I want to look around to see if anything is missing.”
“How dare you!” Sydney cried, following.
Martha whirled and looked up at the officer as if for protection. “Brick?”
“Martha was your late husband’s sister, Mrs. Lord.”
“Assuming she had a husband,” the younger woman continued. “We don’t know that for sure.”
Brickman gave her an annoyed look but didn’t say anything.
Sydney, however, was not so complacent. “What makes you doubt Kenneth was my husband?”
Arms crossed over her chest, Martha glared at her. “He wouldn’t have gotten married without letting me know.”
“Surprise. He did.”
“Prove it.”
“Martha, you’re being particularly obnoxious, even for you,” Benno stated as he drew alongside Sydney. The dark-haired woman gave him a furious look that didn’t stop him. “Kenneth is dead and his widow is in mourning. I would think you might feel some remorse for your own brother’s death.”
Her expression changed from confrontive to crushed so quickly that Sydney wondered if Martha weren’t only doing what was expected of her.
“I can’t believe Kenneth is dead,” she said softly. “I can’t believe any of this. He never even mentioned being involved with a woman when I spoke to him last Monday.”
Sydney shook her head. “You couldn’t have seen your brother. He was with me.”
“I spoke to him on the phone. I was visiting friends in Seattle. He said he was calling from the Portland office.”
“Impossible.” While Sydney knew Kenneth split his time and business between Portland and the coast, he hadn’t been away from her long enough to make the round trip, no less conduct business from his office. Besides which, she remembered Monday vividly. “That’s the day Kenneth asked me to marry him in Lincoln City.”
“Kenneth wasn’t a liar,” Martha insisted. “You’re not even wearing a wedding ring and I’m still waiting for you to prove that you and Kenneth were married.”
Sydney wasn’t about to explain the matter of the ring, not after what had happened the night before. Martha was grief-stricken, she told herself, giving the other woman the benefit of the doubt. Kenneth’s sister had her days confused. Grief made people say and do odd things. She had to be more understanding.
As for giving the skeptical woman proof...
“Will a marriage license satisfy you?”
“It’ll do for a start.”
“Fine. I’ll be right back.”
Dignity keeping her spine rigid, Sydney strode to the stairs and climbed them to her room, all the while trying to mentally place the document. She seemed to remember folding the licence and slipping the paper into her purse after the justice of the peace signed it. They hadn’t had time to register the marriage that day... and then there had seemed no use for it.
When she didn’t find the license in her purse, Sydney methodically searched her suitcases and the drawers in the gilded dresser that she’d filled with clothing and other personal items. She was in the midst of her lingerie, scattering lace underpants and bras about when she sensed she wasn’t alone. She spun around to find Benno silently watching her from the doorway.
“Need some help?”
Her first instinct was to say no. But she’d gone through her own possessions. Only her late husband’s were left, Sydney realized, and she wasn’t yet ready to go through them.
She nodded. “My brother Dakota took Kenneth’s luggage to the master bedroom. Maybe the license is with his things.”
A few minutes later, Sydney watched Benno do what she couldn’t. While he kneeled among the suitcases and searched, she inspected the room. The clean lines of Scandinavian teak furniture contrasted with the fussy guest bedroom.
“Nothing,” Benno finally said, sitting back on his haunches.
She connected with him, pleading with her eyes as well as with her words. “Are you sure? Maybe you overlooked one of those inner pockets or something.”
“Why don’t you just admit you’re a phony,” Martha said from behind her. “Brick, arrest this woman immediately.”
Sydney turned to stare at Kenneth’s sister who wasn’t even willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Brickman asked, “Uh, on what grounds?”
“I don’t know. Impersonation of someone who doesn’t exist. Suspicion of foul play. You’re the police, make something up.”
Sydney’s sense of unreality was growing. This wasn’t happening to her. Married and widowed in the same day... imagining Kenneth was still alive... and now this, not being able to prove her link to the man she’d married and having her arrest ordered by his sister. She could see Kenneth so clearly, just as if she had a picture in her mind.
A picture...
“That’s it.” Sydney raised her chin and told herself to hang in there a while longer. “The photographs.”
“What?” Martha demanded. “Another ploy?”
Sydney thought she understood why Kenneth hadn’t told his sister about their plans. Perhaps he’d been afraid she’d spoil their wedding and would make them both miserable. Martha had been Kenneth’s responsibility, but she wasn’t Sydney’s.
And Sydney wouldn’t put up with the younger woman’s spiteful nature much longer. She’d thought she might make peace with her past and herself here in Kenneth’s home, but she wouldn’t succeed with Martha around to needle her. Right now, the thing Sydney desired most was to be out of Stone Beach.
“I shot a roll of film on our wedding day,” she inf
ormed them all calmly. “I took several photographs of Kenneth – and we even posed together with the justice of the peace.”
Martha was visibly disturbed by the information. Dark eyes wide, she took a step back. “Pictures? Where?”
“They’re still in the camera.” The tragedy had made Sydney forget not only about the film, but the camera as well. “I, uh, dropped it when Kenneth...”
The scene of his falling, limbs flailing, flashed in her mind and she had to take a deep breath.
“The camera should still be there where you left it, right?” Benno asked.
Sydney nodded. “On the rise, where I was taking the photos.”
“Likely story.” Martha sneered. “I’d predict that either you conveniently won’t be able to find the camera – or the pictures will be ruined from exposure to the elements.”
“There’s one way to find out.” Benno placed a palm square in the middle of Sydney’s back, and with gentle pressure, moved her out of the room toward the stairs.
“Count me out,” Martha stated. “I’m not traipsing around out on those rocks in high heels and a designer dress.”
Sick of the woman’s histrionics, Sydney couldn’t help saying, “No one invited you.”
“Brick, do something.”
The woman continued to rant to the policeman as Sydney and Benno left the house. Her raised voice followed them down toward the cliff, but Sydney shut it out.
Retracing her steps brought back memories of her wedding day. Benno’s presence kept her calm and focused on her mission. And she would have broken down under Martha’s onslaught if it hadn’t been for his strength. He was so much more complex a human being than she had guessed. Other than starting that ridiculous argument earlier, Benno seemed capable of giving her exactly what she needed at exactly the right moment.
As if he sensed Sydney’s thoughts, Benno drew alongside and attempted to reassure her. “Don’t let Martha get to you. She can be controlled.”
“By you, maybe.”
“By anyone who has starch enough to stand up to her.” He swept a hand up her spine and gave her a friendly pat on the back. “You have a good backbone yourself. You just happen to be in a vulnerable position and she’s taking advantage.”
Sydney shook her head. “I can’t imagine siblings being less alike. Kenneth was so sweet, so charming, so gallant.”
“Kenneth?” Benno sounded surprised. “Hm, that doesn’t sound like him, either, but I guess you and I see him from different perspectives, being of the opposite sex. But you’re right about Martha – a changeling if I ever met one.”
He kept her distracted until they arrived at the scene of the accident. Within minutes, Sydney found the camera which was barely dented. Thank goodness the housing was dry and the rewind mechanism was working properly. She opened the camera back and popped out the roll.
Greatly relieved, she held up her proof to show Benno. “Let Martha try to have me arrested after she sees these.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU DON’T HAVE to drive me to town,” Sydney told Benno as she came downstairs to find him waiting for her.
She’d changed into a pair of loose white pants and a big blue cotton shirt fastened at the waist with a hand-tooled leather belt. The roll of film was secure inside the matching shoulder bag snugged against her chest. She clung to the purse, afraid the final proof of her connection to Kenneth might disappear as mysteriously as had her marriage license.
“Driving you is no problem,” Benno assured her.
He walked straight to the driveway, empty now save for his vehicle. Martha and Brickman had left and her own car was parked in the garage. He opened the black Thunderbird’s passenger door.
“Get in,” he said, circling the sports car and sliding behind the wheel.
An order rather than a request, Sydney thought, doing so. Now that her head was clear and her anger burned brightly, she was capable of handling things -- she merely chose not to insist. Benno DeMartino cared what happened to her. She didn’t want to put him off with some misplaced sense of pride.
Why did she feel so attached to a man who had been a stranger less than twenty-four hours before? And why did he feel responsible for her?
“There are a couple of places that handle film, but Stone Beach Photo has the best service,” Benno told her.
They locked gazes as he started the engine. Sydney was at once comforted and anxious. She couldn’t explain her strange reaction. It was almost as if she were attracted to the man. Relieved when he looked over his shoulder to back out of the drive, she settled into her bucket seat.
“We’ll get the questions about your marriage straightened out tomorrow,” Benno said, swinging the car toward town. “Don’t kid yourself about Martha’s leaving town. Wherever she’s off to, she’ll be back. Think you can handle her alone tonight?”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
And, troubled by the unusual way she’d been acting, Sydney was determined to regain her strength. Normally she was a leader, a dynamo, efficiency in motion. But the last several months – especially the past few days – had taken the starch out of her. She hated feeling helpless. And beholden. Still, she didn’t want Benno to think her ungrateful for his continued support, no doubt offered due to his friendship with Kenneth.
“Listen,” she said, “I appreciate your believing in me. You don’t even know me.”
“Maybe I know you better than you think.”
Sydney had long considered she was insightful when it came to reading people, but with her senses askew, she could no longer be sure of anything. Except Benno, an inner voice added. Instinctively, she knew she could count on him.
Main Street was clean and neat and alive. People of all ages stared at display windows and entered the quaint-looking shops that lined the half-mile stretch. “Lots of tourist activity today,” Benno commented.
“Is that unusual? It is August.”
“It’s also a Wednesday. This place has always been a madhouse from Friday through Sunday, spring through fall, but weekdays used to be a lot slower.”
“Maybe tourism is picking up.”
“Being a businessman, I should hope so, but I preferred Stone Beach when it was slower paced. That’s why I came back.”
From where? Something kept Sydney from pursuing the answer. Later, she promised herself. Later she would get answers to a lot of questions that had sprung to mind.
After waiting for a family of vacationers to cross in the middle of the block, Benno pulled into a diagonal space in front of Stone Beach Photos. The shop door’s bell jingled as he held it open for her. She preceded him inside, brushing his arm. An awareness washed through Sydney that troubled her.
“What can I do for you?” a carrot-topped man behind the counter asked.
Sydney dug into the shoulder bag. “I have some film that needs to be developed as soon as possible.”
“It costs a little extra, but I can guarantee next day service.” The man gave her an envelope. “Fill this in.”
The bell jingled, signaling another entrance. Beside her, Benno stiffened, making Sydney look up when she finished scribbling her name. Parnell Anderson entered with Officer Mick Brickman right behind him.
“DeMartino,” the auburn-haired man growled.
“Anderson.”
It didn’t take psychic powers to realize the two men didn’t like one another. They squared off, each hostile and wary of the other, while, hands hooked in his gunbelt, Brickman guarded the door. Amusement curled his thick lips. Sydney was instantly edgy. Scrawling out her address, she dropped the roll of film into the envelope and handed the package to the clerk.
“What time can I pick up the photos?” she asked, wanting to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. The atmosphere was thick with hostility and she’d had enough of that.
“Make it after four to be safe.”
“Great. I’ll be here about that time tomorrow.”
About to suggest they lea
ve, Sydney was stopped by Anderson’s challenge to Benno.
“I was amazed that you weren’t at your buddy’s memorial service.”
“I was out of town. On business.”
Anderson’s eyes never left Benno’s face. “Fate works in strange ways, doesn’t it?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You and Lord returning to the scene of the crime... his drowning... perhaps a higher power was exacting justice, at last.”
Bewildered by the statement, Sydney looked to Benno. His eyes were narrowed on the other man, his body stiff as if he were barely holding himself in check. Spontaneously, she placed a hand on his arm whose muscles were tight and hard, and gazed at him steadily until she got his attention. When he looked down at her, his expression was enough to frighten the heartiest soul, yet Sydney wasn’t afraid.
“I’m finished here,” she said quietly, ignoring the other men. “We can leave now.”
The coldness in Benno’s light brown eyes thawed. Nodding, he led the way out of the shop.
“So, what can I do for you, Cousin Parnell?” the clerk asked as the door closed behind them.
And Sydney could barely contain her curiosity as to why the confrontation had taken place.
STILL TICKED by his encounter with Parnell, Benno let Sydney take the lead.
“I could use a walk,” she said, stopping near his car.
Not feeling like being alone yet, he asked, “Want some company?”
“I thought you had to open the coffee house.”
“In a while.”
“Come on, then.” She headed west across the street. “The beach is public property.”
Because her tone was warm and inviting, Benno didn’t take offense. He was sure that Sydney didn’t want to impose but was happy to have someone to talk to. As was he. Maybe she would keep his mind off Parnell’s comment about a higher power exacting justice.
Off the guilt that had haunted him for almost twenty years.
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