by Polly Holmes
Her mellow voice sailed through the trees. “Over here.”
His gaze found her huddled body shivering and he mentally kicked himself for not bringing a blanket. “Are you okay?” he asked as he crouched down beside her, his hands clutching her icy hands in his.
“I am now,” she said smiling. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. Do you think you can walk?”
She nodded. “I think so, with some help.”
“Okay, let’s take this nice and slow.”
Margarete gripped the tree in preparation. Logan eased his arm around her waist and pulled her close as he hiked her injured body from the ground. Seconds ticked away while they stood arm in arm, lips inches from each other’s. Her chilled breath skimming his sensitive skin and his body tensed. His mind wandered with thoughts of tasting her luscious lips and nibbling on her neck and ear lobe. Margarete cleared her throat, snapping Logan out of his daydream trance.
“I should get you home.”
Back in the car, he cranked the heat up as they took off back toward Ashton Point. “Warming up?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” She rubbed her hands together in front of the vents. “I really appreciate you coming to get me.”
Logan gripped the steering wheel. “Tell me once more what happened, and why you felt it necessary to go out alone, in the dark, following some stranger who could be a cold-blooded killer.”
Margarete huffed. “You sound as bad as Kayne. I’m not totally useless, you know. I would never have let Ryder Stone see me. I just lost my footing, that’s all.”
“That’s all? And now you have a possible sprained ankle or worse.” Logan felt his cheeks redden. “What if he had spotted you? How would you have defended yourself if he had doubled back and attacked you? It’s not like you could have run away.”
Margarete sat silent, his words clearly began to sink in.
“Goodness knows what he might have done, and if he is the murderer, you could have been next on his list or worse, he could have….” His voice trailed off refusing to let the image of Margarete under attack consume him.
“I’m sorry,” she said her head hung low. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to find answers.”
“That’s all well and good, but do you have to put your life in danger doing it? I’ve only just met you and in case you missed it, I like you, Margarete. And I was hoping to get to know you better. That would be really hard if your dead, don’t you think?”
Her startled gaze shot to his and her smile melted his gruff exterior. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” he said as he pulled into her driveway. “I was hoping to spend more time getting to know you, so promise me you won’t pull a silly stunt like this again. If you need to follow someone in the dead of night, call me and I’ll come with you. No more sleuthing alone. Agreed?”
Margarete bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Okay. Just for the record, I think you’re pretty okay. I’d like to get to know you better too.”
He smiled, his heart doing a flip in his chest. “Good. Then can I suggest you call Savannah and let her know you will be out of action tomorrow? Sprained or not, that ankle is going to need some rest.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” she said as she maneuvered herself from the car.
Logan was out and on his way to her side before she was out. “Wait for me.”
They slowly hobbled into the house. Margarete only managed to put minimal weight on her ankle, but at least that meant it probably wasn’t broken. “Would you like me to stay?” he asked innocently.
A humiliated expression greeted his words and she quickly opened the front door and hobbled inside. “No. I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough this evening.”
“That’s not what—”
Margarete held her hand up. “It’s okay. I appreciate the offer, but some things are meant to be left to mystery until at least the second or third date.”
Second or third date? Yes.
“As you wish. I’ll be by bright and early in the morning to take you to the doctor.”
“You really don’t have to,” she said, shyly leaning against the doorframe. “I’m sure I can manage.”
He thought he’d made his feelings toward her known. Maybe not. Logan stepped up close, her fragrant scent of frangipani sucking him in. “I know. I want to.” Her lips taunted him with their rich, ruby hue. His heart took over and he leant forward and kissed her. The silky-soft texture sent his libido soaring and he was lost in a moment of pure perfection.
Chapter Twelve
“Aw, ew… Ah.” Exasperated noises shot from her mouth and her breath caught each time she put her weight fully on her ankle. Her ankle wasn’t as sore as last night, but it still hurt like hell. She’d make visiting the doctor was first on her agenda today. “Always the independent one, aren’t you?” Her head turned at the pulsating vibration of her mobile bunny hopping across the table. Lifting her ankle, she hastily hopped over and plopped herself into a chair puffing. Her brow creased as she paused at the unrecognisable number. “Hello?”
“Margarete, it’s Michelle Sweeni, from The Springs Café.”
“Hi, Michelle. What can I do for you?”
The hushed tone of Michelle’s voice piqued Margarete’s attention. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need to talk to you. It’s a matter of urgency.”
Urgency? Margarete gazed at her swollen ankle. “I… Um… Well, you see, I kinda slipped last night and twisted my ankle.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had slipped last night.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry,” Mish said sympathetically, but continued. “But it’s really important I see you. I have to talk to you before it’s too late. Before someone gets hurt.”
Intrigued, a plan formed in Margarete’s mind. “Listen, I have a friend who will be here soon to take me to the doctor’s, so I suppose we could swing by your place on the way.”
“I’m at work. Do you think you could come by here instead? I promise you, what I have to say will make it worth the extra trip.”
Margarete glanced down at her swollen ankle. “I really should get to the doctor first, but if it’s that important.”
“Oh, it is,” Michelle said. “I promise.”
“I guess we can be there in about forty-five minutes. Will that suit you?” she asked trying to dull her eagerness with a sympathetic tone.
“Perfect. I’ll have some of Charlotte’s yummy cupcakes waiting for you when you get here. Bye.”
Margarete grinned and dropped her phone into her bag. “Yes! Gossip and cupcakes. What more could a woman ask for?”
“Are you sure about this?” Logan asked as he helped Margarete hobble into The Springs Café.
Margarete’s chest burned with exhaustion. Hobbling on one foot—while clinging to the hunk beside her, without letting him know how much she was enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her body—was harder than she imagined. “Of…course. Why would you ask that?”
Logan grunted. “Because I think you should have seen the doctor first.”
“Doctor-smocter,” she shrugged his comment off as quickly as he’d said it. “You can’t tell me you aren’t interested in what Mish has to say.”
“Of course I am, but I’m more interested in taking care of you. You’re the one I care about.”
A shiver bolted up her spine. Her gaze found his and she was lost for a split second in the depths of his chestnut-brown eyes. “That’s very sweet of you. I promise to let you take care of me, once we hear what she has to say. If it is this urgent, I’m hoping it has to do with Pierre’s murder. Maybe she knows who did the dastardly deed. The sooner we get in there, the sooner you can get me to the doctor.”
Michelle’s eyes lit up as she spotted them coming through the café entrance. She called over her shoulder to Alex. “I’m going to take my break now if that’s okay. I know it’s earlier than normal, but I really need to speak to Margarete.”
Alex smiled an
d shrugged. “Fine with me. I’ll hold the fort down.”
“Thank you,” Mish said, maneuvering her way around the counter before heading for the corner table. She picked up a plate of decadent chocolate cupcakes on the way. “Gee, that foot doesn’t look too good.”
Margarete heard Logan’s disgruntled huff from the other side of the table. “Don’t worry about me. It was my own silly fault. I misjudged the front porch step last night.” She kept her gaze glued to Michelle for fear that she’d confess the truth if she looked at Logan’s face. “Now what is so important that couldn’t wait? You’re not going to fess up to murdering Pierre, are you?”
Michelle paled and her jaw dropped. “What? No, I didn’t murder anyone. But I fear you think someone else did, and I need you to know that Charlie did not kill Pierre either.”
“Charlie? What makes you think that?” Margarete asked under a mask of innocence.
“I know you think he killed Pierre just because he won’t tell you his alibi. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Charlie is the gentlest kindest man I’ve ever met.”
The penny dropped like a lead weight strapped around Margarete’s neck.
Charlie and Mish are an item. No way. How did I not see that coming?
Logan cleared his throat. “That may be so, but just because Charlie is gentle and kind, doesn’t mean he didn’t snap.”
“No,” Margarete said as she eased her hand onto Logan’s forearm. An electric thrill scooted up her arm and she mentally forced the sensation to the back of her mind.
A crimson blush covered Mish’s cheeks. “So, you see, Charlie couldn’t have killed Pierre.”
“Of course he could have. We still don’t know his alibi,” Logan said, obviously frustrated.
Michelle twisted her hands together nervously. “He was with me, all right? At the time Pierre was murdered, he was with me.”
“What do you mean with you?” Logan asked.
Michelle huffed. “As in, we stepped outside to discuss how long we were going to keep our relationship secret in a town of gossipy women, considering I’m five months pregnant with his baby.”
A stunned gasp echoed behind Mish and she spun in her chair to see Alex’s expression. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew something hasn’t been right for a while now. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Michelle shot from her chair. “I-I don’t know. I wanted to. I really did, but then I didn’t know how you’d react, and I love working here. I didn’t want to jeopardise our friendship or my job. You know how people can gossip in this town and the age gap between Charlie and me is so big. We just didn’t want all the disgusted looks as people walked past.”
“Nonsense. Do you love him?” Alex asked.
Michelle glowed and it was clear as a summer sky that she was in love. “With my whole heart.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” Alex threw her arms around Michelle and squeezed tight. “I’m going to be an auntie.” She pulled back and her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Michelle. “Wait… Five months? Is that why you were calling in sick just before the Christmas Fair last December?”
Michelle nodded. “Yes. I don’t know why they call it morning sickness when it hits you at any time of the day.”
“So, it was you who Charlie was with at the Watson Creek Hotel last night?” Margarete asked.
Michelle’s brow creased. “How did you know that?”
“Yes, Margarete,” Logan said. His smug expression gnawed at Margarete’s morals. “Do tell us all how you know Charlie was at the Watson Creek Hotel last night.”
“Well.” Margarete paused, the imaginary length of her nose growing as she spoke. “I was visiting a possible new client over that way. I happened to be driving by on my way home, and saw Charlie standing at the door. It was obvious he was with a woman.”
Change the subject. She continued. “So, you were with Charlie at the time of Pierre’s murder?”
Michelle nodded and re-joined them at the table. “Yes, we were outside. We only came in when the speeches started. No-one saw us. Charlie was protecting me.”
A bitter-sweet resolve. “Well, I guess that knocks Charlie off the suspect list. Let me be the second to congratulate you. In my opinion, if people in this town are not happy for you and Charlie, then they’re not worth knowing.”
“Thank you. Now, if you don’t eat those cupcakes in the next the minutes, I swear I will devour them in record time.”
Joyous laughter erupted from the table as hands shot toward the luxuriously self-indulgent treats.
Margaret groaned as her stomach suffered self-inflicted agony. She hobbled from the car to the doctor’s surgery, one arm grabbing her stomach and the other holding on tight to her knight in shining armour. “I swear, if I ever eat four icing-laden cupcakes like that again, shoot me, will you?”
Logan’s hearty laugh broke through her dreary stupor and lifting her spirits. “Hey, I know never to come between a woman and her sugary treats. I do want to live you know.”
The flirty banter between them continued, only to be abruptly stopped by a flounce of blue and yellow barrelling toward them at a manic pace.
“Watch out,” Logan yelled as he encased Margarete in his arms and pivoted her out of the line of the oncoming catastrophe. “Hey, look where you’re going. There’s an injured woman here.”
Mary-Jane spun and her arms flew into the air in fright. Her copious shopping bags hooked over her arms almost took out both Margarete and Logan in one swoop. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you. My mind was totally somewhere else. It wasn’t deliberate, I can assure you.”
Margarete looked into the panicked eyes of Mary-Jane and her insides crumpled. “It’s okay, Mary-Jane. All good.”
Mary-Jane’s gaze dropped to Margarete’s strapped ankle. “Oh no, you’re hurt. What happened? Why don’t you come in and see Terry at the chemist? I’m sure he will be able to look at that for you.”
Margarete opened her mouth to speak, but the words spoken were male. “That’s exactly what we were doing. We’re heading to the doctor.”
“Don’t mind me, I was on my way out to Mrs Stevenson’s place with her prescriptions, but then I saw the most gorgeous top on display in the window of Fabulous Creations. I just had to drop in and get it. It’s the last addition to my outfit for Noel’s work party tomorrow evening.” Her lips kept moving while she dug around in one of the large gift bags and held against her chest a pink-and-blue-striped, hibiscus-flower-covered top. “After all, it’s his big night and I must look my best. What do you think?”
A burning sensation bled up Margarete’s calf, an indication she’d been standing on her supporting leg far too long. She wanted to say, it looked like a colourful liquorice all-sorts lolly, but thought better of it. “Wonderful, Mary-Jane. I’m sure you and Noel will be the best dressed couple there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my foot is killing me. I’d really like to head to the doctor.”
Mary-Jane jumped out of the way, clearing the path to the medical centre. “Of course don’t let me stand in your way.”
Margarete resumed her painful trek to the doctor all the time Mary-Jane’s voice on permanent drone behind her. “Okay, you be careful now, dear. And watch out for the uneven paving. Will I see you at Edith McCorrson’s high tea later on this afternoon?”
Margarete cringed at the thought of spending the afternoon with the overzealous woman, but she had told Edith she would be there. “Of course. I’ll see you then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
It took some time to get in to see Miles. By the time Margarete was finished, she was well and truly ready for a strong coffee. Thankfully, he diagnosed a mild sprain in need of rest.
“You were very lucky it wasn’t worse. I want you to stay off that foot for at least three to four days,” Miles said as he handed her a walking cane from the back of his office door. “Here, this may come in handy. I’d suggest crutches, but if I know you, you wouldn’t use them anyway.”
He knew her too well. How was she supposed to run a café with crutches, let alone find a murderer? “Thank you, Miles. I will look after it the best I can, and I promise to get some rest.” As long as it doesn’t stop me from catching a murderer.
Margarete breathed a sigh of relief as she navigated walking with the cane. It was a hundred times better than hopping around on one foot. A pang of disappointment gripped her chest. The thought of Logan’s arms no longer holding her tight gutted her.
She rounded the corner into the reception area and Logan’s worried gaze found hers. She paused and he was by her side within seconds. Her heart melted. He was one of the most caring men she’d ever met. Margarete could imagine how popular he must be with the youths back in Sydney. Her thoughts were a stabbing reminder of the reality coming all too fast. Would her heart be able to handle it when he left?
“How did it go?” he asked, his voice coated with concern.
She smiled. “Just a bad sprain, but I should be good in a few days.” Her gaze flitted past Logan’s shoulder to the elderly woman standing at the reception desk.
Mrs Stevenson? What are you doing here?
She leant into Logan and pointed to the woman. She whispered, ignoring the taunting musty scent of his aftershave. “That’s Mavis Stevenson.”
Logan’s gaze followed hers. “So?”
“So?” Her eyebrows raised and she looked at him as if she had been speaking gibberish. “So, what is she doing here, if Mary-Jane was on the way out to see her with her prescriptions?”
Logan’s mouth rounded in an O. “Good point.”
Gossip wasn’t usually on Margarete’s agenda, but today, curiosity got the better of her. Side-stepping past Logan, she headed for the reception desk. “Mrs Stevenson,” she said, giving the woman a welcoming hug. “So great to see you. I didn’t expect to see you in town.”
“Good heavens. Why not?” She laughed and Margarete couldn’t help but admire the woman. “I know I’m ancient, but this old girl can still get around.”
“Why, you don’t look a day over fifty,” Logan said, giving the elderly woman a smile that she’d remember forever.
