“But you never really tried to find us.”
“Through the department, you mean? No, I never did. Did you ever try to contact me so I would know where you were?”
“Did you ever talk to Tim again after he left?”
Josh realized that they had both raised their voices. He put down his fork and sat back. “Why are we at each other’s throats?”
“I can’t speak for you, but I’m sore because we…none of us…meant enough to you for you to keep in touch.”
“Nor did your family keep in touch with me, Maggie. And everyone knew where I was.”
“Which makes the Sutters the villains and you Mr. Innocent.”
“I didn’t say that, but maybe it’s partly true.” Josh shook his head. “No, it isn’t. None of us kept in touch and with only a small effort we could have.” After eating a few more bites he said, “This is good, Maggie. You want to know something? You don’t look anything like a cop tonight.”
“And you do?”
Josh grinned. “Don’t I? What do I look like to you?”
“If you think I’m going to say something dorky, like a movie star, think again.”
“A movie star!” Josh roared out a laugh. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
Maggie smiled weakly. “Hilarious. Actually you look like a banker in that striped shirt. Or a stockbroker. Maybe an attorney…a well-dressed attorney.”
“Ah, so it’s this shirt that eradicates my cop image. I’ll have to remember that. Want to hear what destroys your cop facade? It’s the way your hair looks tonight, and that pretty blue outfit, and your legs and feet in high heels, and…” Abruptly Josh fell silent. What she’d said about her crush lasting forever had finally sunk in. Should he believe that she had feelings for him now that had endured through ten years of separation?
His pulse quickened. So what if he was older? Thirty-six wasn’t ancient, by any means, and she was twenty-six now, no longer a teenager and certainly no novice to male-female relationships.
Maggie became aware of the changing expression in his eyes as he regarded her. She’d had just enough wine to be bolder than usual.
“What’re you thinking?” she asked.
“You don’t look like a cop tonight, but now you’re sounding like one. What are you suspicious of, Maggie?”
His soft voice touched like a whisper of silk. “I’m wondering just how far you would let your imagination carry you.”
“How far does your imagination take you?”
“Unlike yours, not far at all. But then it’s hard to even try to imagine things that one has never experienced.” Maggie froze. She’d said too much! “Uh, how about some dessert? Ice cream and chocolate sauce?”
“No dessert. Your dinner was great. I’ll have some of that coffee, though.”
Maggie rose. “I’ll bring it to the living room. Please let me do a few things in here…I won’t be a minute…then I’ll join you.”
Josh got up. She was suddenly nervous as a cat. Because of what she’d said about not being able to imagine things she hadn’t experienced? What was that supposed to mean?
But he really had no wish to keep her strung out, so he nodded and walked from the kitchen. “The bathroom?” he called.
“Down the hall. On the right,” Maggie called back. She put her forehead against the refrigerator and wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She’d given away enough information tonight for a half-wit to figure her out, and Josh Benton was no half-wit. Was it because her tongue and privacy inhibitions had loosened from the wine she’d drunk, or would she have found a way to make a fool of herself without ingesting a drop of alcohol?
Maggie forced herself to put away the leftover food, then quickly cleared the table by putting the dishes in the sink. She would deal with them later, after she got rid of Josh. It was strange how her priorities had changed. She’d wanted him in her home badly enough to lie about it, and now she could hardly wait for the moment when he would say “Thanks for dinner and good night,” or something to that effect.
She filled two cups with coffee, put them on saucers on a small tray and went into the living room. Josh was again using the sofa, and when he saw the tray he shoved things aside on the coffee table to make room for it. Maggie set it down and stood to go to a chair, but he caught her by the arm.
“Sit here, by me,” he said quietly.
Her heart nearly burst through her chest wall. “I…I think I, uh, might have given you the wrong, uh, impression during our dinner conversation,” she stammered.
“You gave me the impression you wanted me to have. Sit down, Maggie. I won’t lie and tell you I don’t want you, because I do, and I’m sure I don’t have to spell out in what context. But no woman’s ever been in danger of having her principles compromised by me. One word is all I ever need to hear, one little word. It’s no, Maggie. Say it once and everything stops. Do you follow me?”
“You have assumed far too much from some of the silly things I said because I was half-tipsy throughout dinner.”
Josh frowned. “That sounded like a no right out of the starting gate. Was it?”
Maggie gulped. Yes or no? This was the moment of truth. The awful truth, actually. She didn’t want Josh to know she was still a virgin!
“It was a no,” she said in a shaky whisper.
Josh slowly rose. “Would you like me to leave? Never mind, you don’t have to answer that. I’ll make that decision myself and tell you it’s time for me to go.” He went to the closet for his overcoat and looked at her while putting it on. “Something odd is going on with you, Maggie. Maybe I’m part of it. I sort of feel as though I am.” He stopped to think a moment, then asked with a frown, “Did I lead you on ten years ago? Make you think something could happen for us?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“That’s a relief. I enjoyed all of the Sutters’ company, but I never thought of you back then as anything but a cute kid. Decent men don’t fool around with teenagers.”
“You don’t have to rub it in. I know the score now. According to what you told me the other day, men don’t fool around with women who want more than a roll in the hay from them, either.”
Josh’s eyes widened. “Are all of my sins written in concrete so that you will never forget them?”
“Why would I give a damn about your sins? I have enough of my own to worry about.”
Josh went to the door and turned to look at her. “You know, that’s where I think you’re pulling my leg. You don’t have any sin in your past, do you? Oh, maybe a romantic love affair or two, but no real sin.”
Maggie’s breath almost stopped in her throat for good. As she’d already known, he was no half-wit. He was very close to figuring out her every secret. He would have hit the bull’s-eye exactly if a twenty-six-year-old virgin wasn’t beyond his realm of realistic thinking.
“You’re right,” she said after catching her breath. “There’s no real sin in my past. I left that for you to handle, Detective. Here, let me unlock the door for you.” Maggie moved next to him and began unbolting the locks. She felt his eyes on her profile and flushed hotly. Expecting a pass any second, she finished quickly and stepped back. “Good night.”
Josh touched his forehead in a semblance of a salute. “Dinner was delicious, and I have to say one thing before I go that you’re probably not going to like. You, Maggie Sutter, are a flaming coward. Good night.”
He vanished through the door, closing it behind him. Maggie wilted into a weak-kneed heap while struggling to lock the dead bolts.
Then she fell onto the sofa and cried her eyes out. She hated Josh Benton.
But the real truth, she realized with another spate of tears, was that she didn’t hate him at all. She loved him. Madly, passionately, eternally. With all her heart and soul. She always had, from the first time they met when she’d been a starry-eyed teenager and he’d been her big brother’s friend until this very moment. It would go on, she knew
. It would never disappear and let her lead a normal life. She was destined to die alone and miserable.
But her apparently indestructible feelings explained one thing very clearly. It was no wonder she’d never slept with another man—none had ever come close to measuring up to Josh.
Chapter 6
Josh slept restlessly that night. Along with images of Maggie haunting his dreams, he couldn’t clear his mind of Franklin Gardner’s premature demise. Something told him they were getting closer to the truth in the case, but there were still some perplexing pieces missing from the puzzle.
By morning Josh was feeling testy and out of sorts. It was a gray, cloudy day, which didn’t lift his spirits any. Grumbling about the lousy weather, he put on a pot of coffee to brew and then opened the door of his apartment to retrieve his copy of the Sunday newspaper from the hallway.
There, on the front page, was an inflammatory headline: Politicians Demand An Arrest In Gardner Murder.
Josh sank onto a chair at his kitchen table and read the article, which harped mostly on one theme: The police department was being pressured by everyone in the city with a modicum of power to find and arrest the murderer of Franklin Gardner. Various persons were quoted and had expressed shock over the heinous crime and perhaps some laxity in what should have been a speedy arrest. “After all,” one public figure stated, “it was a simple burglary until poor Franklin tried to protect his possessions. I understand that one of the missing treasures from his home is a priceless and very identifiable jade Buddha, carved in the sixteenth century. Now, how is the killer going to pawn something like that?”
“Moron,” Josh muttered. Anything could be sold. Besides, the items that had gone missing that night, according to the housekeeper, were not “priceless.” Valuable, maybe, but not priceless. Josh never had believed the burglary theory, not when Franklin’s killer could have taken things that might truly be categorized as priceless.
But Josh knew that anyone wanting to put their image before the public jumped on any bandwagon that happened to pass through their territory. An article like this one often got results, though. Josh might hate the pressure the media had the power to apply, but he couldn’t deny its effectiveness. Everyone involved with this case would feel bullied and unappreciated today, him included, but they would work just a little bit harder to find the killer and bring him to trial.
After drinking the entire pot of coffee and going through the Sunday paper, Josh shuffled back to his bedroom, threw the blankets over his bed, which was how he made it every morning, then continued on to the bathroom for a shower.
Even that didn’t bring up his mood, but he knew something that would. He got dressed in comfortable old jeans and an ancient Chicago Cubs sweatshirt. He was in his outside jacket and ready to leave when his house phone rang.
He almost left without answering, but that was only because of his bad mood. He went to the nearest extension phone and said a gruff “Benton.”
“The decision to release Franklin Gardner’s body for burial was just made. Mrs. Gardner has planned the funeral for Tuesday morning. I expect you’ll be attending the service?”
“Yes, sir,” Josh said to his commander, even while thinking about how quickly that newspaper article had jacked everyone up. “Detective Sutter and I will both be there. Do you know the exact time and place?”
“Eleven o’clock at the Pines Cemetery. The church service before that is private. Family only. But the graveside service will be open to Franklin’s many friends.”
“Mrs. Gardner’s words, I take it?”
“Precisely. I’ve some other calls to make. Have a good day.”
“You, too, sir.” Josh put down the phone, then wondered if he should call Maggie now or delay telling her about the funeral until he saw her at work tomorrow.
The mere thought of talking to her on the phone caused what felt like a low-voltage electrical shock to leap through his body. It left him feeling a bit numb but it didn’t surprise him. His whole damn system was out of sync because of Maggie Sutter.
She was becoming a larger-than-life person to him, making him rethink attitudes and standards that had seemed pretty much settled years ago. God, he was even beginning to think that getting married and having kids wasn’t such a bad way to go.
Cursing out loud, he grabbed his athletic bag and left the apartment. He drove to the gym that most of the cops used, changed into shorts and running shoes, then hit the indoor track.
Two hours later he had run at least five miles, worked out with weights, showered away the perspiration and donned his bathing trunks to finish his workout in the huge indoor swimming pool. He was at the door to the pool area with a towel around his neck when his heart actually skipped a beat. Just getting out of the water, climbing one of the far ladders, was Maggie.
She was wearing a plain black one-piece suit, she was dripping wet and she was, without a doubt, the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.
He knew when to admit defeat. You’re a gone goose, Benton. Be a man and admit it.
Entering the echoing pool room he walked straight to Maggie. She was drying off with a big soft-looking towel, and when she saw him her eyes got very big.
“Hello,” he said with a smile.
“Uh, hi,” she said, unable to conceal her surprise.
“Do you come here often? I don’t remember seeing you here before.”
A spurt of her normal gumption prompted a wry retort. “Since you didn’t even recognize me until the night of Gardner’s homicide, why would you have noticed me here, at the gym?”
“Maybe because you’re very noticeable.” Before she could hit him with another zinger he said, “There’s something I need to tell you about the Gardner case. How much longer are you planning to be here?”
“Not long.” She had used six different exercise machines and finished her regimen with about twenty laps in the pool. “After a shower, I’m out of here.”
“I was going to swim a few laps, but I don’t have to. I’ve been working out for over two hours already. That’s enough for today. So, how about meeting me in the lobby in about what? Ten minutes? Fifteen?”
“Fifteen. I need to dry my hair.”
“Great. See you in fifteen.”
They went in different directions, Maggie to the women’s locker room, Josh to the men’s. She hurried through a shower and then drying her hair, wondering all the while if he really had something to tell her about the case or was using some feeble tidbit as an excuse to lord it over her one more time.
She groaned, because she wasn’t thinking clearly. Josh had his faults, but insisting on being king of the hill wasn’t one of them. Besides, why on earth would he want to spend time with her today for anything remotely personal when he’d had ample opportunity only last night to haul her willing if incredibly ignorant butt to bed?
He has absolutely no wish to haul any part of you to bed! Good Lord, you’re the one with the completely insane imagination, not him!
And you told him everything last night…all the secrets hidden in your foolish brain for so many years.
It was true, Maggie realized with a sinking sensation. She hadn’t revealed her secret passion for him in one long uninterrupted confession, but anyone with half a brain could connect the dots. Not only did Josh Benton possess a full and complete brain, he was an exceptional detective. The only thing that would prevent his grasping the content of her alcohol-induced blathering last night was a lack of interest. He just might not give a damn.
Also, exactly how mature was it for a woman to confess to the object of her affection that she had worshipped him from afar for ten damn years?
Groaning because she was behaving so out of character these days, Maggie unplugged her hair dryer and put it in her bag. She hadn’t brushed the natural curl out of her hair as she did on workdays, and her head was a mass of dark red curls. Yesterday, because of her dinner party—Maggie pursed her lips over that phrase—she had taken the time to actually gi
ve herself a hairdo, leaving some curl in strategic places, brushing it straight in others. Today she had taken no such pains.
Nor would she put on makeup, she thought spitefully. Why should she care if her face was practically colorless? Josh probably wouldn’t even notice.
And then she remembered what he’d said by the pool. Maybe because you’re very noticeable.
Did she have this thing all wrong? Was she reading Josh wrong? Where was her intuition, her instinct, her normal good sense?
Grabbing a small zippered case from her carryall bag, she went to a mirror and applied a touch of blusher to her cheeks and put on a bit of lipstick.
She was ready. “Go forth and face the enemy,” she said under her breath, wishing she knew for certain if Josh was a friend or merely her current working partner. Truthfully, she wished for more than that. If only she could read his mind just once and learn how he really felt about her.
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” she muttered.
A few moments later Josh saw her coming toward him. The large lobby contained a snack bar and some small tables, one of which he had held for their usage. He got to his feet and smiled. Maggie arrived and set her bag on the floor next to his.
He motioned to the other chair. “Have a seat. How about something to eat? And drink?”
“Thanks, but I’m not crazy about the snacks in this place.”
“Too healthy?” Josh asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Something like that, I suppose, though I prefer to call them tasteless. I’ll have one of those tropical fruit drinks, though. They’re pretty good.”
“Maybe we should leave this health-nut place and hit my favorite cheeseburger hangout,” Josh said with a little laugh.
He was surprising Maggie, she realized, teasing her, maybe even doing some flirting. Talking like a man did to a woman he liked. A thrill she couldn’t control rippled through her system, and her pulse began fluttering as she wondered if maybe she had somehow attained the power to read his mind after all.
Body of Evidence Page 7
