Courting Danger

by Carol Stephenson

  I took another sip of wine and then stared at my empty glass in astonishment. I never drank an entire glass. Aunt Hilary had always said that alcohol dulled the intellect. My mother was a shining example. Except for the one binge that had led to my disastrous marriage, I avoided drinking.

  Gabe signaled to the waitress. “Oh no, I can’t.” I placed my hand over the glass.

  “Worried I might take advantage of you?”

  “No, but I need to be able to think.”

  “It seems to me that you do too much thinking at times, Kate. You need to loosen up and let go.”

  “Therein lies the way to ruination for a Rochelle.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to her? Have you ever met her?”

  That would be difficult to do since she broke her neck skiing au natural, drunk as a skunk, down the slopes in the Italian Alps.

  When the waitress arrived with another wine and a club soda, I seized on the interruption. At times the line between talking about my family’s history and baring my soul was razor thin. “We need to discuss the case.”

  “Fascinating.” Gabe took a swig of his drink. Not as fascinating as watching his strong neck muscles flex as he swallowed.

  “What is?”

  “The way the No Trespassing sign reared up in your voice.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve already said too much. Family matters shouldn’t be discussed in public.”

  “I assume I’m in the presence of Aunt Hilary?”

  Horrified, I stared at him. I had done it again. Fallen back on her when I was feeling vulnerable. Did I not have any protective mantels of my own? When would I be my own person?

  “Yes,” I sighed, “but my mother’s dead and gone and I’d rather not discuss her.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “For now. But at some point you’ll have to talk about her if only to let go of all that hurt inside you.”

  I tugged my hand, trying to get up, but his grip tightened. Frustrated, I glared at him. “I want to go home.”

  “We still have business to finish tonight.”

  “We saw the crime scene. It told us nothing about Grace Roberts’s murder.”

  He continued to massage my hand, sending tingles of warmth shooting up my arm.

  “No? It told us that somehow your grandfather is involved. What happened tonight was no coincidence. His chambers were not a random toss.”

  “It could’ve been a kid bent on trouble or someone trying to destroy any evidence from Grace’s murder.” Talk about grasping at straws, but I needed to make the effort in front of Gabe.

  “The destruction of the photograph and painting were personal and you know it.”

  “Yes.” The fact that Gabe’s observation matched mine relieved some of my inner tension. I hadn’t been imagining things in the chambers after all. “I sensed the anger.”

  “Whether revenge or something more is involved, we need to explore that avenue.”

  “True, but Grace was murdered in that room because of her involvement with the restoration. We need to keep with the game plan of the most logical suspects, namely the restoration committee and its volunteers. I have the list. Can you run backgrounds on them?”

  “Sure.” He raised my hand and flipped it over, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. “Babe, why do you think your grandfather was innocent?” His dark gaze unsettled me.

  The wine cracked open the door to that part of my heart I kept secret from the world. I wrapped my fingers around the locket and tried desperately to fence around the truth.

  “His decisions, his work, his community service.”

  “What else?”

  I blinked back the tears that burned in my eyes.

  “Because of the honesty I see in his face.” I whispered, “I have his looks and his character, from what my aunt has told me a million times.”

  “So you have to believe that he was honest.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me.” Gabe rose. “We have a long day tomorrow. Let me take you home.”

  Darkness shrouded the endless twisting hallway. As I walked along, I kept trying to open doors but all were locked. Panic’s fingers gripped my throat but I managed to swallow my fear.

  I would find a way out. I had to.

  Ahead of me the shadows stirred, and I saw a figure.

  “Wait!” I cried out as I began to run. But the person raced away from me.

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up with him. The hall was like a maze. Every time I thought I had reached the end, there was another stretch. Every time I turned, the figure disappeared down another hallway.

  Sweat beaded on my forehead and my lungs burned. If I didn’t know I was in the old courthouse, I could’ve sworn I was running uphill.

  Finally, I saw the form pause before a door. The darkness shifted and lightened. Stunned, I saw my grandfather smile at me before he opened the door and slipped from view.

  “Granddad, wait! It’s Kate!” I hurried after him. Why didn’t he stop? Didn’t he know who I was?

  I reached the door and slipped through the gap. The bright light blinded me and I froze. It took a moment before I could see clearly. Then I wished I was blind again.

  The only furniture in the room with white walls was a raised table. Strapped to it was Lloyd Silber.

  “You failed me!” he screamed, his accusation slicing through me like a sword.

  “No! I’ve only begun the investigation. I’ll get you out.”

  My grandfather, holding a book, appeared beside the table. “No, you’re too late. You’ve failed to save him like you’ve failed at everything else in your life.”

  Then the book changed into a syringe, and my grandfather raised his hand.

  Tears streamed down my face. “Granddad, you can’t do this. You’re not a murderer.”

  His mouth twisted into a macabre smile. “Why not, Kate? I’m already doomed.” He brought his hand down.

  “No!”

  I shot up in bed, my chest heaving. Shoving back the tangled mass of hair, I took a few steadying breaths.

  I was in my bedroom, not the courthouse. The early-morning light crept through the lace curtains. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Six o’clock.

  Then I heard a sound. The soft tread on the hardwood floor coming from the front of the house.

  Flinging back the damp twisted sheets, I swung my feet to the floor and dropped into a crouch. I scanned my bedroom and what part of the hallway I could see. Nothing.

  Keeping low, I scampered around the corner of the bed. Since I kept my gun locked up, I didn’t have many weapon options. Perfume spray would burn anyone’s eyes like the devil, but I didn’t want to get that up close and personal.

  Wait a minute. Running my hand carefully under the bed, I curved my fingers over the baseball bat stowed there along with my other sporting equipment. Bed skirts hid a multitude of clutter.

  Now armed, I padded to the door and held my breath. I saw a muted glow of light in the room I used as my office. I stole toward the entrance but Willy, with his innate sense of timing, appeared at my feet and yowled for his breakfast.

  I rushed down the hall but I was too late. The office window was open, the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze.

  Holding the bat up, I went to the window and slammed it shut before locking it. I could’ve sworn every window had been secured before I’d gone to bed last night. The glass wasn’t broken and there were no signs that it had been jimmied.

  Puzzled, I turned on the desk lamp and looked around. No trace of an intruder. Not a tossed book or an open drawer. I must’ve interrupted him before he could search. Or had there really been someone inside the house? In my weariness had I simply forgotten to lock up last night? I placed the bat in my chair. Maybe I was losing it.

  Then I scrutinized my desk.

  One thing that could be said abou
t anal-compulsives. We know where and how we left our things. I always kept my appointment book in the center of the desk pad—and closed.

  It lay open at an angle about two inches from the edge of my desk. I didn’t have to read it to know it was opened to the page marking my meeting in the jail with Lloyd. Since I like to keep records, my appointment book doubled as a diary of events.

  I glanced over to where Willy waited expectantly. “You know, I don’t think the theft of my briefcase yesterday was an accident. I think someone wants information about the case.”

  Willy rose, flipped his tail with disdain and huffed off. So much for using a cat as a sounding board when his mind is set on breakfast. The idea sounded pretty incredulous to me as well.

  I checked the wall clock. No point in going back to bed. Not with court at 9:30 and adrenaline pumping in my systems. Peeling off my damp silk nightshirt, I walked to the bathroom. I slipped into my swimsuit, fed Willy and, after grabbing my portable phone, I headed outside to the patio.

  Moments later, I set the phone on the deck and dove into the pool. The initial shock of the cool water drove the breath from my lungs, but as I fell into a rhythm of swimming laps, my body became acclimated and the water felt like silk against my skin.

  Stretch, pull, kick. With every stroke, the nightmare’s grip on my nerves eased.

  During my youth, I had taken up competitive swimming in the vain hope of winning Hilary’s approval. Only after my divorce did I realize that swimming was as vital to me as breathing. The psychiatrist I had seen briefly had likened the pool to a mother’s womb, saying that was why I turned to swimming so much.

  Personally, I thought her conclusion had been pricey metaphysical baloney. If she had even been half listening to me, she would have realized my mother’s womb probably had been a toxic cesspool of booze and drugs. How I had been born physically unscathed was truly a wonder of the world.

  Turn, kick, stretch and pull.

  After two embarrassing sessions, I’d called it quits with the mental health profession. I loved to swim and that was all that mattered. Those moments when my muscles would burn and my worries would go on mute functioned like deep sleep, enabling a release of my subconscious to explore options. Some of my best decisions came while I swam, such as going into practice with Carling and Nicole.

  My muscles were warm and limber now; the sensation of peace stole over me. I was almost there at that special spot in my mind—

  The phone’s harsh musical notes ripped through the quiet morning. I sighed. While I could ignore the phone, the mood was shattered and I needed to get ready for court. Since I was at the far end, I quickened my freestyle.

  “Good morning, beautiful.”

  Startled, I swallowed pool water and gagged. The chlorinated stuff went straight up my nasal passage, burning my nose and throat. The resulting tears lessened the effect of the glare I shot Gabe as I fumbled for the phone. Still off balance from Gabe’s appearance in my backyard—my backyard barricaded from the outside world by a five-foot wood picket fence—I misjudged the distance and cracked my left elbow on the side of the pool.

  “Ouch!” I almost dropped the phone into the water.

  “Hello? Katherine?”

  I dragged my attention to the phone as I rubbed my throbbing arm. At the rate I was going, I would need a body cast before the end of the week.

  “Good morning, Aunt Hilary.”

  “You sound very strange, Katherine. Did I wake you?” My aunt’s disapproval simmered over the line.

  “No, I was up.” Although I wished that I could go back to bed and start the day over again.

  Gabe sauntered toward me, and I pressed my finger over my lips for him to remain silent. Of course he ignored me.

  “Let me give you a hand up.” With a grin he extended his hand.

  Stunned silence emanated in waves on the other end of the phone. Then my aunt spoke in a frigid, condemning tone. “Is there a man with you?”

  Technically, I was an unattached adult woman, who owned her house and ran her own business. Hopefully sooner and not later, I would have a man in this house, but this wasn’t the time for that particular battle with Hilary.

  Stumped as to how best to answer her, I lifted my hand to push back my dripping hair. Mistake.

  Gabe gripped me under my arms and hauled me gasping out of the pool. Shivering from the sudden exposure to the cool morning air, I realized I hadn’t bothered to bring out a towel. Great. When wet, my white workout tank suit turned transparent, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  A situation that didn’t escape Gabe’s attention. As he surveyed me leisurely, I could feel my skin heat from the fire in his gaze.

  “You think too much,” he murmured.

  “Someone has to think around here! You operate on pure testosterone.” I stalked to the door.

  “What did you say to me, young lady?” Hilary sputtered.

  Damn, I’d forgotten to cover the receiver during my little exchange with Gabe.

  “Hang on a minute, Aunt Hilary.” On my way through the bathroom, I grabbed a robe. I entered the kitchen where a meowing Willy greeted me.

  “Katherine?”

  “I’m here, Aunt Hilary.”

  I scrunched my shoulder to hold the phone to my ear as I shrugged into my robe.

  “And yes, that was a man you heard. He’s the investigator who’s helping me with Lloyd’s case.” I glared at Gabe as he ambled into the kitchen.

  “You hired a private investigator?”

  “Yes—”

  “Why on earth would you do such a foolish thing?”

  I sank onto a stool and rested my forehead against the palm of my head. Gabe made himself at home by opening cupboard doors until he found the coffee.

  “I don’t know, Aunt Hilary. Maybe because it’s standard when there are a lot of witnesses—”

  “It’s a waste of money.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “And what about Lloyd’s finances? Are you trying to bankrupt him? I called this morning to tell you that his friends haven’t been able to raise much toward his bail.”

  Great. Just great.

  “Then I guess I’d better argue for as low a bail as possible this morning at first appearance.”

  Gabe finished measuring the grains and turned on the coffee maker. He lounged against the counter.

  “You’re raising false hope. Colin said you should be busy bargaining for the best plea that you can.”

  “What if Lloyd’s innocent?”

  “I knew it. You’re going to ruin that man’s life.”

  “If the prosecutor goes for the death penalty, I may just save his life.”

  Hilary’s voice became distant. “Colin, speak to her.”

  I lowered my head and thumped it against the countertop.

  “Good morning, honey.”

  “Good morning, Uncle Colin.”

  Gabe placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of me. I grabbed it and gulped down a sip, nearly hissing when it burned my mouth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Coffee’s still too hot to drink.”

  “Then don’t drink it.”

  “Of course, why didn’t I think of that? What other sage advice does Hilary want you to impart at this hour?”

  Colin cleared his throat. “I know how you want to do the right thing. But I’m speaking from experience. Defending someone accused of murder is tricky. No matter how well-meaning an attorney wants to be, how much she wants to crusade a cause, your client’s life is at stake.”

  “But Uncle Colin, something strange is going on. There have been problems with the courthouse construction.”

  “What does that have to do with Grace’s death?”

  “Maybe nothing. But I’m going to check it out. And last night when my investigator and I were inspecting the crime scene, we caught someone destroying the room. It was Granddad’s chambers.”

  Silence on the other end. Colin harrumphe
d. “I’ll have to find a way to tell her.” From his slight emphasis, I knew Hilary was still standing close by the phone. “Your godfather Paul won’t like this either. The whole situation sounds dangerous, Katherine.”

  “I have Gabriel Chavez working with me. He’s a top-notch investigator. Not to worry, Uncle Colin, I’ll be careful. After court, I’m going to interview the restoration volunteers.”

  Hilary’s voice sounded in the background. Colin cleared his throat again. “Oh, your aunt wants to remind you of the charity ball meeting this weekend.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Hilary came on the line. “Katherine, this is the final financial drive for the courthouse before it opens. We’re on the board of directors. You must make it.”

  “I’ll try. Look, I have to go. I’m due in court.”

  “Katherine—”

  “Bye, Aunt Hilary.” With a wince I disconnected the line. Boy, would I hear about this later. One simply did not hang up on Hilary. She decided when a conversation was over.

  “Sounds like heartwarming support from your family,” Gabe commented as he lounged against the counter next to me.

  My head snapped up. “Why are you here at this hour of the morning?”

  “You didn’t give me the list of people last night. I thought I’d run the backgrounds while you’re in court.”

  “Great.” I took one bracing sip of coffee before rising and going into the living room where I had dumped my bag last night.

  “You’re going to speak with the restoration staff?”

  “Yes.” I pulled out my notepad and ripped off a page.

  “Want me there?”

  I considered that for a moment and then shook my head. “I’ve worked with them. They might talk to me more freely without a stranger present.”

  “Okay. Then when I get finished I’ll head over to the police station and check out the case file.”

  “They’ll give you access?”

  “If I don’t run into the captain.” He grinned.

  “Here’s the list. I have to get ready for court.”

  “Need help?”

  “Somehow I expect you’re more expert at helping a woman out of her clothes than into them.”