“What’s the matter?” Owen sounded like a sleepy lion that had recently been very well fed.
“I just thought of something.” She turned to look down at him. “If you’re right in thinking that it was the blackmailer who tried to run us down tonight, then that means that it was a . . . what do you call it?”
“A crime of opportunity?”
“Right, exactly. A crime of opportunity. After all, he couldn’t have known we’d be walking behind the library at that hour. He must have followed us.”
“Maybe.” Owen sounded unconvinced.
“You think there’s another possibility?”
“Amy, there are lots of possibilities. It could have been one of the people who attended that meeting in the library tonight or someone who was wandering around in the park after the band concert. Whoever it was, he saw us and recognized us, in spite of the fact that we were wrapped up in each other’s arms.”
“No great trick, I suppose, when you think about it. This is a town in which everyone knows everyone else. We must stand out like sore thumbs, even in the dark.”
“Yeah.”
Amy had a sudden vision of Madeline Villantry’s son. She recalled his comment as he had walked past Amy and Owen. “You don’t think Raymond Junior is behind this, do you? I think he might have recognized us tonight.”
“We’ll find out tomorrow night.” Owen tugged her down on top of him. “In the meantime. I’ve got better things to do.”
She smiled demurely. “I suppose you want to get some sleep.”
“Hell, no. Us private eyes can go for days without a good night’s sleep. It’s in the genes.”
Chapter 8
“. . . And so I am proud to dedicate the new wing of the Raymond C. Villantry Memorial Public Library.” Madeline Villantry’s cultured tones rang out from the speaker’s podium that had been set up in the center of the library. “We should all be proud of our community’s commitment to literacy. A free nation cannot exist without such a commitment. I thank you, friends and neighbors. I salute all of you who helped make our fine library what it is today.”
Enthusiastic applause broke out from the large crowd gathered in the library. Madeline Villantry smiled graciously from the lectern.
Owen leaned toward Amy, who was standing next to him in the throng. “You get the feeling she really means all that talk about progress and literacy?”
“Yes, I do,” Amy said resolutely. “I know she looks like she’s trying out for the role of Queen of Villantry, but Aunt Bernice and Arthur believe that Madeline is honestly committed to this town’s welfare. I think they’re right.”
“Maybe. But I’m not so sure about Raymond Junior over there. I have a hunch he’s not the altruistic sort.”
“I won’t argue that point.” Amy scrutinized Raymond, who was following his mother down from the small speaker’s stand. “But who knows? Maybe he’ll learn.”
“I won’t hold my breath.” Owen stopped clapping. He kept his eyes on the door of the men’s room as the crowd broke up and began to mill around.
Amy stood on tiptoe in an effort to see over the heads of the people swarming in front of her. “What’s happening?”
“Crabshaw went inside the men’s room a few minutes ago. He just came back out. Now he’s headed outside to join your aunt at the punch table.”
“Darn, I can’t see a thing.”
“I can,” Owen assured her.
There had been a light but steady stream of males coming and going through the swinging men’s room door during the past hour. Tredgett, the janitor, had been busy as he made a heroic effort to keep up with the demands that had been placed upon the facilities. As Owen watched. Tredgett emerged from the women’s room, removed the small sign he had temporarily placed in the doorway, and wheeled his bucket and mop next door to the men’s room.
Raymond Junior followed the janitor inside.
Amy peered at Owen. “So? What do you see?”
“Someone who’s bent on cleaning up,” Owen said softly.
“What the heck does that mean?”
“It means that this case is almost concluded.” He gave her a repressive look, aware that he had to be forceful and authoritative if he wanted Amy to follow orders. She didn’t seem to take them any better than he did. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “Where are you going? Did you spot the blackmailer?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you will not. You will do as you’re told. I’m not taking any more chances with your neck.”
“But, Owen, what can possibly happen here?”
“That’s what I said to myself last night when we made that little detour behind the library,” he muttered. “Stay put.”
Without glancing over his shoulder to see if Amy had obeyed him, Owen slipped away from her side and began to ease through the crowd. The conversations ebbed and flowed around him.
In a few minutes it would all be over, Owen thought as he made his way toward the men’s room. The identity of the blackmailer was obvious. It should have been from the beginning, but Owen admitted to himself that he’d been distracted by more personal considerations.
It was time to confront the culprit, wrap up the case, and get back to worrying about the more important dilemma he faced. Nabbing a blackmailer was simple compared with the problem of trying to figure out if Amy loved him.
He’d been sweating that out since he had awakened to an empty bed this morning. His initial response to the discovery that Amy was not lying beside him had been a surge of emotion that he knew came very close to something that could be labeled fear. For a terrible instant his sleep-fogged brain had registered an anguished sense of loss. Amy was gone.
Reality had returned with the sound of the shower in her room. She had not left him in the middle of the night. She had merely risen to take her morning bath.
Owen had taken a deep breath and regained his usually unshakable sense of control. But he had not been able to shake the memory of the unnerving sensation he had experienced when he had found himself alone in the bed.
The door of the men’s room swung open. Raymond Junior strolled out. He paused for a moment to search the crowd. His gaze fell on Owen. He nodded sternly and then turned to walk toward the knot of people gathered around his mother.
Owen propped one shoulder against the wall and watched the swinging door. He did not have to wait long. It soon opened again.
Tredgett, the janitor, emerged, dragging his bucket behind him. Without looking at anyone, he trundled off toward a door at the far side of the central gallery.
Owen followed at a leisurely pace. When he reached the door, he went through it quietly. He found himself in a dimly lit storage room. Stacks of aging magazines and newspapers lined one wall. The shelves on the opposite wall were filled with dusty books that looked as if they were awaiting repair.
There was no sign of the janitor, but a sliver of light gleamed beneath a closed closet door. Owen smiled humorlessly. He went toward the closet and opened the door. He found himself gazing into a small space filled with mops, sponges, and other assorted janitorial equipment.
Tredgett was inside the closet. He was busy counting the bills he had just removed from a plain white envelope. He jumped at the sight of Owen.
“Busy day,” Owen observed.
Panic and rage lit Tredgett’s eyes. He clutched the money in one fist. “Damn you,” he whispered. “Who the hell are you, anyway? Why have you been nosing around in my business?”
“I’m the naturally curious type.”
Tredgett’s face worked furiously. “Bastard. I warned you last night. If you and your lady friend think I’m going to share this money with you, you’re crazy.”
“The janitor,” Amy murmured from the shadows behind Owen. “Of course. The one man who is always going in and out of restrooms.”
Owen groaned. “Amy, I told you to wa
it outside.”
“I couldn’t let you finish this alone.”
Tredgett’s desperate gaze shifted wildly from Owen to Amy and back again. “Leave me alone or I’ll tell all.” He picked up a jar of cleaning solvent and hurled it at Owen.
Owen easily sidestepped the jar. Unfortunately, in the process, he collided with Amy, who had come up behind him. She yelped as she fetched up against a row of metal bookshelves. The shelves shuddered beneath the impact. Several tattered volumes cascaded down from the top shelf.
Owen whirled around at the sound of the toppling books. “Amy, look out.”
She reacted instantly, leaping aside. Two heavy volumes struck the floor at her feet, barely missing her head.
Tredgett seized the opportunity. He burst out of the janitorial closet and made for the back door.
“You okay?” Owen asked Amy.
“I’m okay. Owen, be careful.”
He whirled around and sprinted after Tredgett, who was already at the back door.
It wasn’t much of a contest. Tredgett was twenty years older and thirty pounds overweight. Owen caught him just outside the door. He pinned the janitor to the wall of the alcove.
“I’ll tell everyone about the affair between Crabshaw and Mrs. Villantry,” Tredgett blustered. “I swear I will.”
“And go to jail for blackmail?” Owen asked pleasantly. “Now, why would you want to do that?”
“Crabshaw will never press charges. He’ll never admit that he’s been paying blackmail. You can’t prove a damn thing.”
“I wouldn’t be too certain of that.” Madeline Villantry emerged from the storage room. She was followed by Arthur and Bernice and Raymond Junior. “Arthur finally told me what was going on this morning. I informed him that if his private investigator discovered the identity of the blackmailer, I would insist that he press charges. One simply cannot tolerate this sort of thing.”
“Now, Mother,” Raymond began. “I think we should talk about this before we make any decisions.”
“There is nothing to discuss,” Madeline assured him.
Tredgett jerked furiously in Owen’s grasp. “Private investigator?” He stared at Owen and then looked helplessly at Arthur Crabshaw. “You hired this damned PI?”
“I hired the damned PI,” Amy said briskly. “And he’s solved the case brilliantly.”
“Thank you,” Owen said.
“He certainly has.” Bernice smiled warmly at Owen. “Arthur also told me everything. It was very gallant of him to try to protect Madeline and me, but entirely unnecessary. Arthur’s relationship with Madeline is thirty years in the past. Who cares about it now?”
“Precisely,” Madeline murmured. “My parents are dead and my children are adults. There is no one left to protect.”
Arthur looked at Owen. “You were right. The best way to pull the blackmailer’s teeth was to tell everyone involved what was going on.”
“It’s usually the easiest way to put a stop to this kind of thing,” Owen said.
Raymond Junior scowled in confusion. “For God’s sake, Mother, are you telling me that you and Arthur Crabshaw had an affair thirty years ago? And that the janitor knew about it?”
“Eugene Tredgett used to work for Villantry,” Madeline explained. She gave Tredgett a disgusted look. “Apparently he saw something that was none of his business.”
“No one ever notices the janitor,” Tredgett muttered.
“Good God.” Raymond looked scandalized. “I can’t believe this.”
“Don’t worry about it, Raymond.” Madeline turned to go back into the library. “It’s none of your business, either. These things sometimes happen, even in the best of families. Now, stop blathering on about it. We have our civic duty to perform this evening.”
“But, Mother . . .” Raymond hurried after Madeline. The pair vanished into the shadows.
Arthur took Bernice’s hand. He looked at Owen. “I owe you.”
“No you don’t,” Owen said. “Amy is the one who hired me. She’s already taken care of the bill.”
Shock and pain replaced the admiration that had lit Amy’s eyes a moment earlier. Too late, Owen realized that she had misinterpreted his words. She thought he meant that he had taken last night’s lovemaking as payment for services rendered.
Police Chief Hawkins lumbered out of the storage room gloom. “What the hell’s going on? Mrs. Villantry said I was needed out here.” He paused when he caught sight of Owen. “Damn. Shoulda guessed that this would involve you, Sweet. You know something? We’ve had more trouble in the forty-eight hours you’ve been in town than we’ve had in a year.”
“Just doing my civic duty, Chief.”
“Sure.” Hawkins squinted at the defeated Tredgett. “Any chance you’ll do it somewhere else in the future?”
“Count on it,” Owen said.
• • •
Owen stood on his side of the doorway that linked the two Inn rooms and watched Amy as she packed her suitcase. This was the first opportunity he’d had to speak to her in private since Eugene Tredgett had been taken into custody earlier in the evening. He’d been waiting for this moment for hours. Now that it was here, he couldn’t seem to find the right words.
Amy had been determinedly cheerful and aggressively polite while they had been in the company of others. It seemed to Owen that she had chattered on about everything under the sun except their relationship. She had finally fallen silent when they had climbed the stairs to the connecting rooms.
“Amy . . .”
“I’m almost packed,” she assured him as she stuffed a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “I know you want to be on the road first thing in the morning. We’ll be able to leave right after breakfast.”
“Forget it. I’m not worried about leaving on time.” Owen shoved his hands into his back pockets. “Amy, I want to talk to you.”
“I’m listening.” She disappeared into the bathroom to check for any items she might have left on the sink.
Irritation replaced some of Owen’s uneasiness. “I’m trying to have a relationship discussion out here,” he called.
She emerged from the bathroom with her quilted robe over her arm. “Good thing I checked the hook on the door. I almost forgot my robe.”
Owen gazed at the robe with a shattering sense of longing. “Amy, I think you misunderstood something I said tonight. When I told Crabshaw that you had paid for my services, I didn’t mean it the way I think you think I meant it.”
“Really?” She came to a halt in the middle of the room. “How did you mean it?”
“I just meant that you and I had a separate understanding.”
She stood very still, clutching her robe. “Do we?”
“I thought so.”
“What sort of ‘understanding’ do we have, Owen?”
Owen began to feel desperate. He was no good at this kind of thing. “For God’s sake, didn’t last night mean anything to you?”
“Everything.”
“I realize we haven’t known each other very long.” Owen shoved a hand through his hair. “I had planned to take it slow. I wanted you to get to know me. I wanted you to—” He broke off abruptly. “What did you say?”
“I said that last night meant everything to me.” Amy’s eyes were brilliant. “What about you?”
A joyous hope welled up inside him. He was dazzled by the brilliant colors that suddenly lit his world. “It meant everything to me, too. Amy, I love you.”
“I love you, Owen.” Amy dropped the robe and opened her arms.
Owen gathered her close and kissed her for a very long time. “Something tells me we’re not going to get much sleep tonight,” he said eventually. “Maybe we’d better not try to get that early-morning start after all.”
“If we don’t check out before noon, they’ll charge us for an extra night,” Amy warned him.
“Don’t worry about it.” Owen picked her up and carried her through the connecting door into his room. “I’ll just
put the extra night on my expense account.”
About the Author
The author of many New York Times bestsellers, JAYNE ANN KRENTZ uses three different names. As Jayne Ann Krentz she writes contemporary romances and romantic suspense. She uses Amanda Quick for her novels of historical romantic suspense, and Jayne Castle for her futuristic and paranormal romantic suspense. After earning a BA in history and a master’s degree in Library Science, she worked as a librarian before becoming a full-time writer. She lives with her husband, Frank, in Seattle, Washington. Visit her website at www.krentz-quick.com.
We hope you enjoyed reading this Pocket Star Books eBook.
* * *
Join our mailing list and get updates on new releases, deals, bonus content and other great books from Pocket Star Books and Simon & Schuster.
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com
Pocket Star Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1995 by Jayne Ann Krentz
This title was previously published in 1995 by Pocket Books in an anthology titled Everlasting Love.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
First Pocket Star Books ebook edition January 2014
POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Connecting Rooms Page 7
