The Shelter of His Arms (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Dawn Stewardson

  “I’ve gotten off track, though. The point is that he told me they had a fight and he ordered her to get out. Said he wanted her gone by the time he got home from work today.

  “And when I mentioned the audition he said she’d probably just forgotten about it because she was upset. But I didn’t buy that.

  “When she’s upset, she calls me. Like she did yesterday. She’s my only child and we’ve always been close.”

  “I see,” Celeste murmured, glancing at Travis again.

  This time, he gave her an encouraging nod.

  “That’s why the fact that I hadn’t heard from her...well, I was certain something awful must have happened. So I went to their building and convinced the concierge he had to unlock the apartment. Told him Donna must be dreadfully sick or something. And...”

  “Mrs. Schoenberg?” Celeste said when the woman began to cry. “Mrs. Schoenberg, try to calm down and tell me the rest.”

  She sniffed a few times, then said, “There was no sign of Donna, but her clothes were still in the closet and the place was a disaster. Chairs overturned and stuff broken. They must have been throwing things at each other. And when I saw...well, that’s when I called the police.”

  As she sniffed again, Travis whispered, “Ask if there was any blood.”

  Celeste grimaced, then said, “Was there anything else? I mean, anything else you could tell them except that she was gone and the place was a disaster?”

  “No, but I thought they’d at least come and have a look. They didn’t, though. They just said that if no one heard from her in the next twenty-four hours they’d take a missing-person report if I wanted.

  “If I wanted. Can you imagine? After I’d told them he might have killed her?

  “Anyway, just before you phoned I called the theater. And she isn’t there. The curtain’s at eight, so if she’s not there by now...

  “And twenty-four hours won’t be up until tomorrow afternoon. By then, if Bryce did... Celeste, what do you think? Would he...” The woman started crying again.

  “Mrs. Schoenberg,” she said quietly, “it sounds as if he and Donna had quite a row, but Bryce isn’t a violent man. He was never abusive to me, so—”

  “Then where is she? Why did she miss that audition? And her performance tonight? And why hasn’t she at least phoned me?”

  “I don’t know,” Celeste admitted as Travis moved closer and mouthed, Get Hank involved. I want him to hear this firsthand.

  She thought rapidly, then said, “Look, I’ve got an idea. A couple of homicide detectives came to see me after my brother was killed. They were very nice, and maybe if I called one of them he’d talk to you tonight.”

  “Really? You think?”

  “Well, if you’d like, I’ll see if I can get hold of either of them.”

  “Oh, please. I’d really appreciate that.”

  “All right, then, I’ll give it a shot. And you try not to worry. Donna’s probably just at a friend’s place, too upset to go onstage tonight.”

  “No, she would have called. That’s what has me so frightened.”

  “Well...I’ll phone one of those detectives as soon as we hang up. And either I’ll get back to you or he’ll call you.”

  “Oh, this is so kind of you. I’m hanging up right now. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Celeste clicked off, then said, “Will Hank still be on duty this late?”

  “Uh-huh. Officially, we’re on...I mean he’s on the four-to-midnight shift this week. It was just that with your brother’s murder we wanted to get a lot done right away, so the official shift went by the boards. He’ll have a month’s worth of overtime before he’s done.”

  “And that’s when his wife gets to see him?”

  “It used to be. He’s been divorced for a while now.”

  “That’s too bad,” she murmured. “Are there children involved?”

  “One. A little boy. Jane walked out on both of them, so Hank has custody.”

  “Really.”

  She knew it happened, yet she still found it difficult to imagine a woman willingly giving up her child.

  “How does he cope? What with the shift work and all, I mean.”

  “He’s got a terrific housekeeper. She lives in and doesn’t seem to mind his hours. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what he’d do.”

  Celeste nodded, turning her thoughts back to Mrs. Schoenberg. “What about Donna’s mother?” she said. “Did you get the impression she really does believe Donna’s dead?”

  “It sure sounded like it.”

  “Poor woman.”

  “At least she should feel better after Hank talks to her.” Travis picked up his phone again and hit the speed dial for his partner’s cell.

  Roughly twenty-four hours had gone by since he’d told Hank about Bryce Wayland being Celeste’s beneficiary. Which meant that at this point, Hank had probably learned more about the guy than his best friends knew. But he wouldn’t have this hot-off-the-press news flash.

  “Ballantyne,” he answered.

  “Got an interesting new development,” Travis said, and proceeded to fill him in.

  After that, Hank asked a couple of questions, then said he’d call Mrs. Schoenberg. Pronto.

  “You’ll get back to us tonight?”

  “You bet.”

  “Talk to you later, then.”

  Travis clicked off, telling himself he was doing as much as he could. But Carol Schoenberg would give Hank the perfect opening to pay Bryce Wayland a visit. And Travis was dying to go along.

  However, that just wasn’t an option. Aside from anything else, now that he was involved with Celeste he absolutely had to stay in the background.

  He glanced at her, thinking involved wasn’t actually the right word. It was where he’d figured they’d been heading, but since she’d laid down her ground rules he wasn’t sure.

  All he knew was that wherever they did go from here would be up to her. Regardless of the way he felt about her, he had no intention of kissing her again. If there was going to be a next move, it would have to be hers.

  “Will Hank call her right away?” she asked.

  “I’ll bet he’s already talking to her. And driving toward Bryce’s at the same time. So if he did kill Donna—”

  “Travis, I was telling her mother the truth. He’s not a violent man. I mean, I’ve reached the stage of accepting that he might be behind the contract. But only because we can’t think of who else it could be. And the idea of him actually killing Donna...”

  Travis was tempted to point out that if Bryce had murdered Steve it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if he’d killed Donna, as well. He kept quiet, though, assuming she’d put that together for herself.

  She did. Almost immediately.

  “Yet there has to be some explanation for her disappearance,” she continued slowly. “And if it was him who shot Steve, and Donna knew about it... Why on earth would he tell her, though?”

  “I doubt he would have. But when you live with someone... It could have been as simple as her noticing blood on his clothes and getting the truth out of him.

  “And once she knew what he’d done... The next time they have a major fight she threatens to tell. So he kills her. If he’s already committed one murder, he’s got more to lose by letting her talk than by getting rid of her.”

  After a few moments of silence, Celeste murmured, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to think your husband—estranged or not—might be a murderer?”

  “I can imagine,” he said softly.

  It was obviously a very unsettling thought. Unsettling enough, no doubt, to make her seriously wonder about her judgment in men. So maybe he shouldn’t be taking her rejection quite so personally.

  But he fou
nd it impossible not to.

  “Celeste?” he said after another silence. “Ever since we learned about that contract, the prospect of your going to the service for your brother has been worrying me. And now, with Mrs. Schoenberg saying Bryce will be there...”

  She gazed at him for a minute, then said, “If Bryce is behind the contract, he isn’t intending to kill me himself.”

  “No, but...”

  “You’re thinking the Ice Man might be there?”

  “I’m just thinking we don’t want to take the slightest chance.”

  “But you said a hit man never chooses a public place. A place where there’d be witnesses.”

  “Yeah, I did.” And it was true. Usually.

  Now that she was staying here, though, the Ice Man wouldn’t know where to find her. So what if he figured the service could be his only chance at her—and decided to risk a public place?

  “Travis, I can’t not go.”

  He’d been certain she’d say that, which was why he hadn’t bothered raising the issue before this. But being right didn’t make him any happier.

  “Then maybe you could stay out of sight,” he suggested. “There’s probably some sort of special room for the family, or—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “Even though Steve and I weren’t close, he was my brother. And I’ve got to be there for him.”

  “Celeste...”

  She shook her head. “Not showing my face just isn’t something I could do. I’d never be able to come to terms with it. Besides, you told me homicide detectives would be checking out the mourners. This Ice Man will realize that, won’t he? And that will ensure he stays away.”

  “Probably,” he admitted. But he wasn’t going to let this drop until they’d reached some sort of compromise.

  “You intend to go with your aunt?” he said.

  “Yes. And my cousins. The funeral people said they’d send a car to pick them up, then come by my place.”

  “Instead of that, how about going with Hank?”

  “My aunt would think it was awfully strange. A man I’ve never even mentioned before.”

  “We can come up with an explanation. That it’s standard procedure in a murder case. Or that you knew him long before he was assigned the case. Deciding on something believable won’t be a problem.”

  “Then I guess it would make sense to have him with me.”

  “Good, because as much as I’d like it to be me with you, I just—”

  “I know. You explained before. You’d be in hot water if—”

  “No, it isn’t that anymore. That was only when you were a suspect.”

  “Then...?”

  “Nobody except Hank knows you’re staying with me, and we want to keep it that way. So it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to be sitting right beside you. Just in case.”

  Celeste gazed at him for a long moment, then said, “You’re not one hundred percent sure the Ice Man won’t be there, are you?”

  “I’m ninety-nine percent sure. But why take any chances.”

  Especially when they were talking about her life.

  * * *

  BY TEN O’CLOCK, Celeste was willing the phone to ring. Either of the phones, just as long as Hank was the one calling.

  At Travis’s suggestion, she’d rechecked her answering machine an hour ago. And sure enough, there’d been a second message from Donna’s mother—thanking her for having Detective Ballantyne phone and telling her that he’d promised to pay Bryce a visit tonight.

  But Hank hadn’t gotten back to them yet, and she was dying to know where things stood.

  If it was Bryce who wanted her dead, the sooner they were sure of that the better. Then Travis could make him call off the contract and she’d be able to get on with her life.

  Her glance flickered to her own personal detective, and she couldn’t help wondering what would happen to them after this was over. She’d hurt his feelings last night, maybe badly enough to make him reevaluate his—

  “The news or an old episode of Frasier?” he said as a newscast began.

  “The news is fine,” she told him.

  “You don’t think Snoops would rather watch Eddie?”

  She smiled. “If Eddie were a bird, he’d be all for it. But he doesn’t like dogs.”

  “No?”

  “Uh-uh. It’s a genetic thing.”

  “That true?” he asked Snoops.

  His question made her smile again.

  Whereas Bryce had barely tolerated Snoops, Travis and the cat were already developing a rapport. They’d even reached a compromise in their battle for the recliner. Travis had possession, but Snoops was curled up on his lap.

  She watched them for a minute, remembering how, last night, she’d been curled up with him. Right here on this couch.

  Not tonight, though. After they’d eaten dinner and done the dishes, he’d headed straight for the chair.

  But what had she expected? She’d told him she wanted to put things between them on hold, and he’d clearly taken that to heart.

  The problem was, she kept suspecting she’d made a mistake. Because every time she looked at him she had trouble thinking of anything except how warm and safe she’d felt in his arms. And how his kiss had left her longing for more.

  She was unsuccessfully trying to refocus her thoughts when the phone finally rang. The sound made her jump.

  Travis answered, then said, “Sure, see you in a minute.

  “Hank,” he told her, clicking off. “He’s practically here, so I’ll go let him in.”

  Snoops meowed a protest at being deposited on the floor, then leaped back onto the recliner the instant Travis started for the door.

  In only a couple of minutes he was back, Hank on his heels.

  As they sat down, Travis in the chair once more, Hank next to her on the couch, Travis said, “So what’s the story? Is Bryce our guy?”

  “Hard to say,” Hank told him. “Once he recovered from the shock of a detective showing up at his door, he was pretty cool. The only serious reaction I got was when I told him Donna’s mother had called the police—and suggested he’d murdered her. That really browned him off.”

  “But it would have whether he’s guilty or not,” Travis said.

  “Does he know it was me who suggested you talk to Mrs. Schoenberg?” Celeste asked.

  “Uh-uh. I just said she’d called us and I’d ended up talking to her.”

  That didn’t mean, however, that Bryce wouldn’t eventually hear about her involvement. And if he did, he sure wouldn’t be happy. But that was nowhere near the top of her “things to worry about” list.

  “Did you tell him you were Homicide?” Travis was asking.

  Hank grinned. “I just said NYPD detective. Thought I’d save the homicide bit for next time.

  “At any rate, he gave me the same version of what happened as he gave Mrs. Schoenberg. He and Donna had a fight. He said he wanted her gone by the time he got home from work today and she was. End of story.”

  “Did you ask if she’d taken her things?”

  Hank nodded. “He said she hadn’t. In fact, he didn’t say anything that I knew was a lie. But he didn’t volunteer anything, either, and when I hit him with the bit about the apartment having been a disaster he got pretty perturbed. He’d straightened everything up, and nobody’d told him that Mrs. Schoenberg had been there.

  “But he swore the apartment was fine when he left for his office this morning—that throwing things around was just Donna’s way of expressing her anger before she left.”

  “Did he have any idea where she might be?” Celeste asked.

  “Not that he was telling me. His theory was that she’s simply dropped out of sight to get people worried. Make it look as if he m
ight have driven her to suicide or something. He basically said she’s a fruitcake, so nothing she did would surprise him.

  “Do you know if she actually is nutsy?” he added to Celeste.

  She shook her head. “But if she is, Bryce couldn’t have realized it until after she moved in with him. He’s not a fool.”

  Travis and Hank exchanged a glance she couldn’t read, then Travis said, “Where are you going from here?”

  “Well, unless Donna turns up, her mother will file a missing person’s tomorrow. So there’s a chance we could get a warrant to search his apartment.”

  “Not much of a chance.”

  “Why not?” Celeste asked.

  “Because women are always having fights with their boyfriends, then disappearing,” Travis explained. “And they normally turn up safe and sound. Which means it’s unlikely any judge would issue a warrant to search the apartment of a respectable citizen—a lawyer yet—just because Donna’s mother is worried about her.”

  When she turned to Hank, he nodded his agreement. Then, before she could ask anything more, Travis’s cell began ringing.

  “Quinn,” he answered.

  After a brief pause, he said, “Yes, Mr. Reese, of course I remember you.”

  Reese? Evan Reese? She glanced at her watch, wondering what on earth the man wanted at all, let alone this late at night.

  Then she looked at Travis once more, as he said, “A favor? What sort of favor?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Thursday, October 7, 10:52 p.m.

  TRAVIS WAITED FOR Evan Reese to elaborate, wondering what he was up to and wishing he could put the man on speakerphone so Celeste and Hank could listen in.

  Saying they were curious would be a distinct understatement. They were leaning far enough forward on the couch that they were at risk of tipping off.

  “It involves Celeste Langley,” Reese finally announced.

  That was not something Travis wanted to hear. He exhaled slowly, then looked meaningfully over at the others and said, “A favor involving Celeste Langley?”

  The words were barely out before he regretted them. They’d clearly heightened Celeste’s anxiety level—so much so that he decided he wouldn’t try to fill in any more blanks until after the call was finished.