The Impostor

by Cassie Miles

  Sarah’s laughter was incongruous. It made a mockery of her pain. “Thank goodness, that’s in the past.”

  “Is it?” Liz pressed. “Did Gary hurt you?”

  “Oh, no.” Her denial was too quick. “This was different. Gary didn’t mean to hurt me. Last night, we argued, and he pushed me. Just to make a point, you understand.”

  “No,” Dash said. “I don’t understand.”

  Nor did Liz. Her politeness was forgotten in a flash of outrage. How could Sarah allow this to happen to her again?

  “Gary’s a good man,” Sarah protested. “Oh, Liz, he’s a wonderful man. I’d do anything for him. And I know he loves me. And he’s never hit me. Never.”

  “Except for last night,” Liz coldly reminded her.

  “Last night, I don’t know what got into him. He’d been answering police questions for hours. He doesn’t have an alibi for the time in question. He was at home, working with his roses at the time when Jack was…”

  “Jack was killed,” Liz said brutally. “He was murdered. Shot in the chest. Did Gary kill him?”

  “No!” She leaped to her feet so suddenly that her chair overturned. “Get out of my house!”

  Liz started to apologize, but Dash shook his head. To Sarah he said, “Think about this carefully. Consider from every angle. Even if Gary is not a murderer—”

  “He’s not!” Her voice rose hysterically. “Get out!”

  “Don’t marry him,” Dash advised. “He’s not a good man. A good man never touches a woman in anger.”

  Sarah collapsed at the table, buried her face in her arms and wept. She repeated over and over, “Leave me alone. Leave me alone.”

  Dash took Liz by the arm and led her into the front room.

  “We can’t abandon her like this,” Liz said. “There’s no telling what she might do.”

  From outside, they heard the news hounds clamoring. Then the doorbell pealed. Liz opened it and ushered Sister Muriel inside. Though the small, tidy nun looked a bit frazzled, she managed a firm smile. “I came as soon as I heard the news. Where is Sarah?”

  Dash pointed her toward the kitchen. “You’re an angel, Sister. A Ministering Angel.”

  “One can only pray,” she said, heading toward the kitchen. “Goodbye, children. And good luck.”

  After another bout of invisibility, Liz and Dash were in her car, heading north. “Is she really?” Liz asked. “Is Sister Muriel an angel?”

  “Not yet, but she will be. She is a truly good woman. Sometimes, in small ways, a mortal being can be almost a saint. Those people have a special place in the hereafter. Like Agatha.”

  Liz drove steadily toward town, but she was unsure where they were headed. Though solving Agatha’s murder was still foremost on her mind, she had to consider the distinct possibility that Dash was what he said he was. An angel.

  But it was so hard to accept. He looked like a man. He was a handsome, strong, absolutely masculine man. He walked, talked and even smoked like a regular human being. But there were those minor miracles to consider. The invisibility, for one.

  “Can you turn us invisible right now?” she asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to see what it feels like again.”

  “You want more proof,” he said. “Sorry, precious. It doesn’t work like that. Either you accept what I’m saying or you don’t. Trust me or not. It’s no skin off my nose, precious, if you don’t.”

  “How about flying?” she asked. “Can we do that? Like Superman. Can you take me in your arms and fly to the mountains?”

  “I’ve never mastered the skill of carrying somebody else,” he said. “And I wouldn’t do it for a gag. This is who I am. This is my existence.”

  So it was up to her to believe or disbelieve him. Somehow, Liz felt like one of the children in the audience at Peter Pan being asked to clap their hands if they believed in fairies. When she was a little girl, she’d always clapped. But now? Now she’d seen enough of life to know that believing doesn’t necessarily make it so.

  “Where to next?” he asked. “We could take advantage of it being Sunday to make a search at the warehouse for the falcon.”

  “The bluebird,” she corrected. “Yes, we could.”

  But the weather was perfect, and the skies were blue. The idea of digging through dusty old files at the warehouse was dismal.

  “How about this,” he suggested. “We can drive out to the warehouse, and I can search. I’ll fly. It’ll be done in minutes, not hours.”

  “Tempting,” she said. “And I do appreciate that you’re not simply taking off on your own to search at angel warp speed.” But did she believe he could do it? “Okay, Dash. Let’s try that.”

  It was a long drive to the northeastern end of town, and when she finally pulled into the empty parking lot and cut the motor, Liz climbed out of the car to stretch. She leaned against the hood, closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun. “Okay, Dash. Go for it.”

  She heard a whoosh beside her and felt a sudden breeze. When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. This angel stuff was more than a little unnerving. She closed her eyes again.

  In a few minutes, he was beside her, straightening his necktie. “Nothing,” he said. “A couple of boxes, marked Agatha, that had knickknacks. But no falcon.”

  “Then we’re out of luck,” she said. “Sarah said that she’d parceled out remembrances and mementos to family and friends, but I don’t suppose she kept any kind of list.”

  “Probably not,” he concurred.

  “It seems like our investigation is going nowhere fast. We’ve got two major suspects—Gary and Hector—and no tangible proof.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I guess we should just wait for the police to do their investigation and hope they pick the right one as Jack’s murderer.”

  He got into the car. “Let’s cruise past Hector’s place. Maybe he’s back.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  In northwest Denver, in one of the older neighborhoods that had been renovated and reclaimed by determined urban dwellers, they drove slowly past Hector’s house. It was a small frame house, well-tended with a neatly clipped lawn and several fruit trees.

  “There,” Dash pointed. “That’s an unmarked cop car. I guess the cops have got their own stakeout going.”

  “Then there’s no need for us to hang around.”

  She returned to the center of town. On a beautiful late Sunday afternoon, there was an easy atmosphere on the city streets. Downtown, the Rockies baseball team was wrapping up the season of play at Coors Field. In the parks, people were strolling, jogging and sitting to read books. Autumn in Denver was a pleasant season, easygoing and calm.

  They stopped for a latte and an ice cream, picked up deli food for dinner later, then returned to the apartment. They were pretty much compatible, Liz thought. She didn’t feel the dating kind of urgency with Dash. He was different, easy.

  At the apartment, she called her answering machine at home and listened to dozens of messages from people in the news media. And a couple of calls from people in the office. Then she heard the angry voice of Gary Gregory.

  “Liz, you’re fired,” he snapped. “Sarah told me about your accusations, and I don’t need that kind of disloyalty. Don’t come in on Monday. We’ll have your stuff packed and ship it to you. Goodbye.”

  She pushed the replay button so Dash could hear.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re out of work.”

  “It was time to move on, anyway.” She leaned back on the sofa. “To tell you the truth, I’m relieved.”

  “But you were there ten years.”

  “And could have been there another ten. Behind the same desk. Answering the same phone. And then I’d stay because I might as well. No, this is good.”

  After dinner, she took a long bath and retired to her bedroom, still pondering the case. There had to be something she was missing, some detail that was dancing around at the e
dge of her consciousness, just beyond sight.

  Dash tapped on her bedroom door. “I came to say good-night.”

  “Come on in,” she said. “I was just thinking about all the information we’ve gathered. I think there’s a trail from the beans.”

  “The beans?”

  He entered her room hesitantly. Though she was decently dressed in silky primrose yellow pajamas, he felt like he was intruding.

  She sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed. “Here’s what I think. Agatha suggested to me that I compare Hector’s purchase prices for coffee beans with the prices paid by our competitors. That was after she was ill, but she might have had suspicions about his overpayments before that.”

  “And you think this was Hector’s motive for murder.”

  “Dash, if the ten percent overpayments had been going on for several years and Hector was taking even half in kickbacks, his profit would be in the millions of dollars. OrbenCorp does high-volume purchasing.”

  “Good motive,” he said. His gaze rested on the shimmering highlights in her long brown hair. He felt a heaviness in his physical body, a longing, almost a need.

  “Then here’s what happens next. I do the comparisons. I show the figures to Gary. Gary shows them to Jack. Jack confronts Hector. Hector kills him.” She paused. “Are you following me?”

  “Why would Hector kill Jack? He’s still guilty of embezzling. Jack’s death doesn’t change the numbers.”

  “Nothing could change the numbers. They’re all neatly recorded in Gary’s nasty little computer.”

  “So why commit another murder? Being caught for a white-collar crime is far different than a first-degree murder charge.”

  “I don’t know.” She scooted back on the pillows and tucked her feet under her. “But I have the feeling I’m going in the right direction.”

  “Let’s take it from Gary’s side,” he said, averting his gaze from her. She was far too beautiful to allow him to concentrate. “Gary wants to inherit the company. He romances Sarah. Kills Agatha. Then kills Jack. This leaves him as the executor of OrbenCorp and Jack’s estate, as well as having Agatha’s house when he marries Sarah.”

  “We can only hope that won’t happen,” Liz said. “I’d hate to see Sarah get stuck in another abusive relationship.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said, “since you don’t have to go to work, we’ll look for Hector. We’ll put in some real time on it.”

  “Okay.”

  She settled back on the pillows. Her blue eyes were soft and gentle as she gazed at him. Her voice was husky. “Have you used that condom yet?”

  “I can’t, Liz.”

  “I know, I know. You’re an angel, and you can’t touch me. But why? Is it so wrong to make love to someone you care about deeply?”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Do you care about me?”

  “I’m afraid so.” The words came hard for her. She wasn’t accustomed to making declarations of affection. “The way I feel about you is different than I’ve ever felt about any other man—or angel. We’re so similar. We think alike. It’s like we were made for each other.”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”

  He rose from the bed and turned out the overhead light. The only illumination came from starlight through the tenth-floor window, and the delicate glow permeated the room, softening the shadows and creating a mysterious intimacy.

  When she looked at Dash again, his broad chest was bared. From what she could see, his body was perfect. The muscles of his chest bulged, his flat nipples were taut beneath the light sprinkling of dark hair.

  She gazed into his eyes and gasped at the tenderness she saw there. His well-shaped lips whispered to her. “I love you. Elizabeth, I love you.”

  “Oh, Dash. I love you, too.”

  “For all eternity,” he said.

  “Show me,” she urged. “Show me that you love me.”

  He came closer to the bed. “Lie down, my darling.”

  She reclined on the pillows. She raised her arms over her head in a posture of utter submission.

  His hand glided above the surface of her skin, not quite touching. But she could feel the warmth of his caress. Her body yearned toward his hand. All her senses came alive.

  Abruptly, he stood at the foot of her bed. “Elizabeth,” he whispered. “Undress for me.”

  She sat up on the bed, near the pillows. Her gaze locked with his. With trembling fingers, she unfastened the buttons on her pajama top and allowed the two halves to part slightly. Before she removed her top, she wriggled out of the bottoms, sliding the yellow silk down her thighs and calves.

  When she revealed her legs, she heard him catch his breath. “Beautiful,” he said.

  “A hot tamale,” she said. Her voice was trembling. “A cute cupcake. A juicy, ripe tomato.”

  “A woman.” His baritone voice deepened and resonated. “You are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known. The only woman for me.”

  “Make love to me, Dash. Please.”

  She slipped the pajama blouse off her shoulder, yet held it over her breasts. Then she let go.

  When she looked at him, he was also naked. His hips were narrow and his thighs were strong. His strong maleness was magnificent.

  Though she held out her arms to him, he did not come closer. “Lie back on the pillows,” he said. “Don’t move.”

  She did as he asked, and again he came close to her. His hand hovered enticingly above her naked flesh. He lowered his lips, still not touching her, but breathing across her body, across her breasts. Her nipples hardened in response to him. Though she shivered uncontrollably, her skin was flushed and hot. She groaned with wanting him, needing him.

  But as soon as her hands reached up and touched him, he darted away from her with quicksilver speed. He was invisible.

  “Dash? Where are you?”

  “Here,” came his voice beside her ear. She reached for him, but he was not there.

  Yet she could feel him all around her, enveloping her in a brilliant, luminous cocoon.

  “Lie still, Elizabeth.”

  She stretched out on the bed.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She did as he asked.

  The pure sensations that shot through her body were unlike anything she’d felt before. Her skin was on fire. Her heart pounded heavily beneath her rib cage.

  She parted her legs. She was moist with wanting him, slick with her desire for him. Never before had she been so aroused. The sheer pleasure caused her to moan.

  Though she was alone on the bed, she felt his mysterious touch, his breath, his magic that heightened her senses. He was a wonder, a miracle.

  A trembling, ecstatic release burst through her, and the most wonderful white-hot energy shivered across the surface of her body.

  She was fulfilled, completed.

  Quietly she murmured, “I love you, Dash.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  He stood trembling and invisible at the foot of her bed. Though he technically had not touched her body, they had made love. He had broken the rules and awaited retribution, the swift strike of lightning, the flame of celestial rage.

  Yet, the night was still, silent.

  Dash felt no guilt for what had passed between them. He had not sinned.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning they returned to Hector’s quiet north Denver neighborhood and discovered that the police were no longer staking out his house. Liz and Dash hit the nearby convenience store for extra-large coffee and settled down to wait. After another cup of coffee and a half dozen doughnuts, it was almost noon and Liz had worked up the courage to mention the night before. Gazing at his rugged profile with wondering eyes, she said, “I enjoyed last night. Very much.”

  “So did I.”

  She bit her lower lip and cringed inside. Why was she so tongue-tied this morning? She might as well have offered the tired old cliché, was it good for you?

  The wea
ther was warm enough that they had the windows rolled down. All in all, she’d rather be jogging than trying to express the incredible feelings she’d experienced last night. But Liz needed to convey how much his lovemaking had meant to her.

  “I’ve never felt so close. You were part of me. It was like my breath came from your lungs, it was your heart beating within me. Not my own.”

  He nodded briskly and looked out the window. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Oh, go ahead. Blow it out the window, though.”

  He struck a wooden match with his thumbnail, fired up a Camel and sucked hard.

  She cleared her throat. “Listen, Dash, I’m trying to tell you that you are the most wonderful lover in the world, and that I meant it last night when I said that I loved you.”

  “I know. And I love you, Elizabeth. Last night was the first time, in all my eternity, that I felt so complete.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “The first time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dash? Are you telling me that you’re a virgin?”

  Diffidently, he straightened his shoulders. “You might say that.”

  “Well, either you are or you aren’t. You can’t be kind of a virgin any more than you can be kind of pregnant. And don’t bother telling me that you’ve never made love to a woman before, because I won’t believe it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re too good. The way you handled me was skillful, like a genius. If that was your first time, baby, I can’t wait until you’ve got some experience under your belt.”

  She looked at him and grinned, but he was still staring out the window, paying more attention to his Camel than to her. “Why are you so distant this morning? You’re like a stranger, like we hardly know each other.”

  Dash thought he’d been covering his confusion well, but he should have realized that Liz would see through any barriers he erected. He couldn’t hide from her. Nor from what he’d done the night before.

  And he didn’t understand what was happening to him or to her or to them. Last night, they’d come together in an amazing way, more miraculous than flight, more filled with wonder than the resonance of a sweet heavenly choir.