Sweet Caroline's Keeper

by Beverly Barton

  But what if they didn't find what the key unlocked? What if weeks went by, even months, without unearthing the dam­aging evidence? Would Caroline give up the quest? Dear God, he hoped she would. If not, she would live in constant danger from an unknown enemy.

  Wolfe would have felt more at ease right now if fewer people knew their whereabouts. Fletcher and Brooke had taken part in making the plans to go to Windhaven, so it was only reasonable to assume that Brooke might tell her parents, despite his warnings to tell no one. Roz knew, too, and it was possible that she had disregarded instructions and had by now told Gavin and/or Lyle. If Gavin knew, then he might have informed Ellison, or if the boss had been unavailable, then Ellison's trusted secretary. It wasn't that Wolfe sus­pected anyone in particular, but he had learned the hard way that a cautious man trusted no one. Sometimes even the clos­est friend might prove to be a person's most deadly enemy.

  Wolfe spread his right hand and, using his thumb and mid­dle finger, clasped the side of the frames and repositioned his tinted glasses to rest more securely on the bridge of his nose. Without moving an inch and alerting Caroline, Wolfe scanned their surroundings. She slowed her Lincoln LS when a forty-five mile-per-hour speed limit sign appeared along the side of the road. The area in which they had been traveling was definitely rural and was now becoming more coastal with each passing mile.

  They had spoken very little on the long ride from Fletcher's home in Baltimore. No idle chitchat. No heart-to-heart conversation. He read the directions whenever neces­sary. She commented occasionally on this or that roadway scene. He suspected she felt every bit as awkward as he did after their middle-of-the-night sensual exchange in his bed­room. Try as he might, he couldn't get the sight of her, the scent of her, the feel of her out of his mind. It had taken a great deal of willpower to release her, to reject the offer he'd seen in her lavender-blue eyes. She had wanted him as surely as he had wanted her. How was he going to continue guard­ing her night and day and resist the sweetest temptation on earth?

  "Directions, please." She glanced his way hurriedly, then refocused on the road. "Is our turnoff close?"

  Wolfe looked over the directions again, then gazed out the window. "Harcourt Road should be about two miles from here. Fletch says we can smell the sea from that point on."

  Caroline grinned, then sighed. "I'm desperately trying not to get my hopes up about finding anything in the Alfa Romeo. But it would be just like Preston to have hidden something important in the car he dearly loved. I keep won­dering that if he wanted Mother to find the evidence, why would he leave the car to Fletch?"

  "Good question."

  They remained silent until Wolfe spotted the turn. "There's Harcourt Road."

  She whipped the Lincoln off onto the rough, uneven course, slowing almost to a standstill after hitting a rather large pothole. She grumbled under her breath. The narrow two-lane local roadway was in bad need of repair. If they hadn't been traveling at such a slow speed, they would have probably missed the town of Windhaven, which consisted of a gas station-minimart and little else. A row of empty build­ings and a few boats docked in the small harbor comprised what had no doubt been a small, active seacoast village years ago. As they wound their way through the remnants of the old town, Wolfe noted a few signs of new life on the outskirts and wondered what group of wealthy investors had gobbled up the place, probably intending to turn it into a tourist mecca.

  "We go half a mile and then turn off onto a gravel road that leads to a dirt road that will take us straight to the cot­tage," Wolfe said.

  She nodded. "Looks like Windhaven will be another tour­ist destination in a year or two. Pity."

  In less than five minutes, they found the cottage, located on a dirt road close to the bay and within walking distance of five other old waterfront houses, built decades ago as sum­mer homes. Standing outside the cottage, his hand raised in greeting, stood a man Wolfe guessed to be at least seventy-five, his bald head gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight.

  "That must be Teddy Richards." Caroline pulled the Lin­coln to a stop in the overgrown driveway.

  "And there's the Alfa Romeo." Wolfe pointed toward the garage, which was the exact shade of yellow as the house. On both the paint was faded and peeling. The rather rickety-looking open garage door hung precariously on rusted hinges.

  Caroline removed her seat belt, flung open the door and jumped out and onto the ground. Wolfe hurried so that she got only a few steps ahead of him on her way toward the garage.

  "Hey there, you Caroline McGuire?" the elderly man asked.

  Caroline held out her hand as she approached him. Wolfe barely restrained himself from halting her friendly greeting. What were the odds that this old codger was a hit man? Slim to none. But pure instinct guided Wolfe as he slipped his hand beneath the edge of his lightweight sports coat to undo the snap on his hip holster. His hand hovered close to the weapon as Caroline shook hands with the man who identified himself as Teddy.

  "Mr. Fletcher said to let y'all do whatever you wanted with the car," Teddy said. "So there she is. Like to take a closer look?"

  Wolfe grabbed Caroline's arm as she headed straight for the garage. "Wait a minute."

  She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a puzzled stare. "We can hardly check the trunk and the glove compartment or whatever else from this distance."

  Wolfe looked at the garage. Nestled inside the small struc­ture's belly was a magnificent antique car, its sides and fend­ers a single molded unit that tapered to a teardrop rear end. The long curved roofline swooped forward to a split and curved windshield. Like an ageless lady of great style and beauty, Pinin Farina's classic automobile outshone any pres­ent-day models. Wolfe owned several vintage vehicles him­self, having begun his collection shortly after his resurrection from the dead and his move to Atlanta. He kept his '59 Cor­vette and his Ferrari 250 swb garaged at his home in Ten­nessee.

  "I'll bring her out so you can get a good look at her," Teddy said. "Not much room to maneuver in the garage and no electricity out there, so no lights."

  While Teddy made his way, rather briskly for an old man, toward the garage, Caroline turned to Wolfe. "Are you sus­picious of Mr. Richards?" A closemouthed smile spread across her face. "My heavens, he's probably eighty years old."

  "A professional weakness," Wolfe admitted. "Not trust­ing anyone. Suspecting even the most innocent-looking per­son."

  He placed his hand in the small of her back. She stiffened instantly. He assumed that Caroline had been as curious as he to know how they both would react when they touched again. For him it was a blend of pleasure and agony. His instincts told him that for her it was the same.

  "Move over to the side of the house," Wolfe suggested. "I'm not sure I trust Teddy's driving skills."

  Caroline laughed softly as she allowed Wolfe to guide her to what he considered a safer location. They both watched as Teddy opened the driver's side door of the antique car and slipped behind the wheel. Suddenly a pure gut reaction prompted Wolfe to call out to the old man. He had allowed the physical contact with Caroline to momentarily distract him and that distraction had sidetracked his normally astute instincts.

  "Wait! Don't start the engine," Wolfe cried.

  Caroline looked at Wolfe, her eyes widening in surprise, as if questioning his sanity. But within seconds, her look changed to one of shock and then of horror. A loud, ear-splitting blast rocked the ground on which they stood as the Alfa Romeo, the garage and Teddy Richards were blown to kingdom come.

  "Son of a bitch!" As the sound of the explosion rever­berated in their ears, Wolfe shoved Caroline to the ground and covered her with his body.

  Debris sailed high into the sky—pieces of yellow wood, fragments of red metal, gravel, grass, dirt and the minuscule particles that had once comprised a human body. Bits and pieces of the remains rained down on them, peppering Wolfe's body and showering across the yard and the cottage. Fire singed the earth where the garage had once stood and little
outbreaks flamed up all around them. Wolfe prayed that Caroline's Lincoln was far enough way from the blast to have survived intact. It was their only means of escape. His guess was that the explosives had been wired to the ignition, set to activate the moment the car was started. Maybe the person who had placed the bomb in the Alfa Romeo was long gone. But what if he or she had waited around to make sure the blast had done its job? Caroline had been the target, not Teddy Richards.

  As soon as the dust settled, Wolfe rose to his knees and closely surveyed the destruction all around them. His tinted glasses, which had fallen off when he'd hit the ground, lay broken only a couple of inches from his right foot. His gaze moved to settle on the Lincoln, which was covered with dust and particles from the blast. Flying debris had smashed in the back window and pockmarked the side of the vehicle. Wolfe rose to his feet, then jerked Caroline to a standing position. She shivered uncontrollably. He ran his hands up and down her arms, then shook her gently.

  "We've got to get out of here. Do you understand?"

  She nodded and obediently let him lead her hurriedly to­ward the car. He opened the passenger door and shoved her inside, then closed and locked the door and rounded the hood. The minute he slid behind the wheel, she held out the car keys, which she had earlier slipped into the pocket of her slacks. Her hand shook uncontrollably.

  "Poor old Teddy Richards," Caroline said, tears in her voice.

  Wolfe reached over, caressed her dirty cheek, then inserted the key in the ignition and started the Lincoln. With only one thought in mind—to protect Caroline—he reversed the car, whipped it out onto the road and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

  When Wolfe pulled the battered Lincoln into the driveway at Caroline's home at fifteen past eleven that night, four peo­ple came rushing off the well-tit front porch where they had been waiting. Roz was the first to reach Caroline, with Brooke a close second. Wolfe allowed the two women to push him aside as they rushed to smother their friend with hugs and dampen her with their tears of relief and joy.

  "Oh, God, Caroline, when you phoned Lyle from the Cal­vert County sheriffs office and told him what happened, he called me immediately." Roz brushed strands of Caroline's disheveled hair out of her eyes. "We've been worried sick."

  "Lyle called Fletch, too, and the four of us have been out of our minds with worry," Brooke said. "My poor Fletch has been blaming himself for Teddy Richards's death. And he's been frantic about you."

  Wolfe glanced over his shoulder at the two men who stood nearby, as if waiting their turn, then focused his attention on the two women flanking Caroline. Someone had passed along information, whether maliciously or innocently, that had en­abled a professional to prepare a booby trap for Caroline. Was one of these four dear friends capable of such treachery? He wanted desperately to rule out Lyle, and if not for his cynical nature, he would have. For the life of him, he couldn't see Reverend Jennings harming a hair on anyone's head, let alone willingly helping someone murder Caroline. The other three, each in his or her own way, were a possi­bility, even though his instincts told him their affection for Caroline was genuine.

  "Caroline." Lyle held out his hands as Roz and Brooke led her up the walkway.

  Caroline paused, pulled away from her girlfriends and grabbed Lyle's hands, then put her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. Tears streamed down Lyle's cheeks as he clung to her.

  "I'm so thankful you're all right," Lyle said. "I've prayed almost nonstop since you called me, letting the Lord know how grateful I am that he spared your life."

  "Did you thank the Lord for sending Mr. Wolfe to me?" Caroline asked, as she pulled back from her cousin and searched for Wolfe.

  Fletcher came forward but didn't block the path or prevent Wolfe from being able to see Caroline. With a fragile, ten­tative tilt of her lips, she smiled at her stepbrother.

  "If only I hadn't sent you down to Windhaven. . ." Fletcher's voice cracked with emotion.

  Caroline caressed Fletcher's cheek, then kissed him with sisterly affection.' 'Stop blaming yourself for what happened. You had no way of knowing that someone would get there ahead of us and plant a bomb in Preston's Alfa Romeo."

  Wolfe followed closely, just behind the foursome as they escorted Caroline to her front porch, then he moved around them to unlock the door. He went in first, turned on the lights, punched in the security code and scanned the foyer before motioning for the others to come inside. Once they were congregated in the foyer, Wolfe disengaged Caroline from her quartet of concerned friends. She gasped when he grabbed her arm. The others stood rigidly still, their gazes riveted to Caroline.

  "I have a few questions for y'all," Wolfe said. "And after I get the answers, I want all of you to leave."

  "What?"

  "Now, see here. . ."

  "I had planned to stay. . .."

  "What sort of questions?"

  Wolfe jerked Caroline to his side. She went without pro­test, although the look on her face warned him that she would confront him later.

  "Come with me." Wolfe led the way, hauling Caroline with him. He gently shoved her down into an overstuffed easy chair and took his guard post behind her. The others made their way into the living room. The women sat side by side on the sofa. Lyle took the rocking chair to Caroline's left Remaining on his feet, Fletcher crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Wolfe.

  "Only six people knew that Caroline and I were going to Windhaven to search through Preston Shaw's antique Alfa Romeo," Wolfe said. "Caroline and I. Fletcher, Brooke and Roz. And Teddy Richards. But I think we can rule out Mr. Richards as a suspect."

  "A suspect?" Brooke gasped and looked point-blank at Caroline. "What is he talking about?"

  Before Caroline could speak, Wolfe cut off her reply and asked, "Did any of you tell someone else where Caroline and I were going and why?"

  "I didn't," Fletcher replied immediately, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

  "I did," Roz confessed. "I told Lyle, but that hardly counts. He phoned the studio and asked to speak to Caroline, so naturally I explained where she'd gone and why."

  "Naturally." Wolfe focused on the reverend. "Did you tell anyone what Roz told you?"

  Lyle's face paled. He shook his head. "No. Not a soul."

  "Anyone else?" Wolfe asked.

  Roz's forehead wrinkled when she puckered her lips in an oh-dear-me pout. She bobbed her head up and down slowly, regretfully admitting that she had gone against Wolfe's in­structions and told someone other than Lyle. "I told Gavin. He called to invite me out and just happened to ask if I'd mentioned to Caroline that he and I were seeing each other. I know I wasn't supposed to tell anybody where you two went and why, but it's not as if Gavin is the guy out to kill Caroline."

  Wolfe growled, deep and low, the sound emitting roughly from his throat. Caroline tilted back her head and glanced up at him. He reached down and clamped his hand on her shoul­der. She broke eye contact and looked away from Wolfe and at her friends, but she lifted her hand and laid it over Wolfe's for a brief moment.

  Wolfe's gaze moved on to Brooke. "What about you, Ms. Harper?"

  "I think I might have mentioned it to Mother and Dad," she said.

  "Either you did or you didn't." Wolfe's voice held a deadly, accusatory tone.

  "See here, Wolfe, I don't like your attitude," Fletcher said.

  "I don't really care what you like or don't like," Wolfe replied. "Pleasing you is not part of my job description. Pro­tecting Caroline is the only thing that matters. Someone in this room is responsible for giving information about Caro­line's activities to the wrong person. That act, innocent though it might have been, could have cost Caroline her life. I cannot allow something like that to happen again."

  "Yes, I mentioned to Mother and Dad that Caroline was going to Windhaven," Brooke said. "And it's possible that one or more of the servants overheard me. I didn't think you meant my family when you warned us not to tell anyone. My parents love Caroline."

 
"Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Harper," Wolfe said.

  "You know, come to think of it, Kirsten and Sandy knew why Caroline had canceled her afternoon appointments." Roz shot up off the sofa. "I didn't think twice about telling them. Gosh, Caroline, I'm sorry."

  "It's all right," Caroline assured her.

  "I have to disagree," Wolfe said. "It's not all right. How­ever, what's done is done. In future, something like this will not happen again. I don't want any of you pressing Caroline for specifics about the plans she has beyond her normal work schedule. Starting in the morning, she will be curtailing her activities until further notice."

  "Is that what you want, Caroline?" Fletcher asked. "If not, say the word and I'll fire this overzealous commando."

  "No," Caroline said. "If you fire Wolfe, I'll simply rehire him. He and I will work things out between us."

  Roz exchanged a quick what's-up-with-those-two look with Lyle, then said, "Since you came by and picked me up tonight, you'll have to drive me home, Rev."

  Caroline slipped her shoulder out from under Wolfe's pos­sessive clasp and stood. Lyle nodded agreement to Roz's request, then got up out of the chair. After he and Roz kissed Caroline good-night, they showed themselves out the front door. Brooke stood, walked over to a scowling Fletcher and slipped her arm through his.

  "We should be going, too," Brooke said, then dragged her reluctant and angry boyfriend toward Caroline. "If you need us for anything, don't hesitate to call." She glanced at Wolfe. "But I believe we're leaving you in good hands."

  Caroline hugged her childhood friend and her stepbrother, then Wolfe shoved them out the door, locked it and punched in the code to secure the house for the night. The minute he turned to face Caroline, he realized she was fighting mad. Angry with him. For being rude to her friends?

  "How dare you accuse one of them of being at fault for what happened at Windhaven!"