by Gemma Bruce
Fortunately, Cas was distracted by Edith, who handed him a mug of steaming black coffee. “Thanks,” he said and turned back to the two men.
Elton wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth. “We don’t want to make life difficult for you. We know you just took this job ’cause Wes Excelsior conned you into helping Hank out, but dammit, Cas, something needs to be done.”
“I realize that,” said Cas.
“We’re not blaming you, mind, but we got to talking and thought maybe you could use some deputies.”
Cas looked at the two men. Elton was pushing eighty, Henry had a bum knee and walked with a cane. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m just a stand-in. I don’t think I should be appointing any deputies. You’d better go ask Hank what he thinks.”
“Tried that,” said Elton, already taking aim at the trash can again.
Cas looked away and concentrated on his coffee.
“Thelma wouldn’t let us talk to him. That darn woman. Too damn protective by half.”
Henry nodded. “We’re not saying we don’t think you’re doing an okay job, just that these robberies have to stop.”
“I agree,” said Cas, wondering how he could get them out of the station. “That’s why I brought in the county.” Except the county sheriff, who’d been on the football team with Cas at Excelsior Falls High, had just wheezed over the phone and said, “Cas, you sucker. I’ll be surprised if Hank ever comes back to work. Thelma’s been trying to get him to retire for years. She wants to move to Florida.” Then he relented. “I’ll send someone over to take a look.”
He had and they hadn’t found a damn clue.
Henry pushed himself to his feet. “Well, if you change your mind, Elton and I are available and so are some of the other men in town.”
Elton spit into the wastepaper basket and stood up. “We could set up a neighborhood watch.”
“I’ll think about it.” Cas ushered them toward the door and held it open for them.
“So Julie Excelsior’s back, huh,” asked Henry, his eyes twinkling as he took in Cas’s black eye.
“News travels fast,” said Cas, opening the door wider.
“Heard she’s got a wicked right hook,” said Elton and went out the door to spit on the sidewalk.
Henry pushed his hat back on his head and nodded at Cas. Then went out the door, chuckling to himself.
“So it’s true,” said Edith as soon as the door shut behind them. “Julie Excelsior is staying at Excelsior House.”
“And she did that,” said Lou, pointing to Cas’s face.
“It was an accident.”
“Good thing she wasn’t aiming at you,” said Edith and exchanged a wink with her sister.
Cas took his coffee over to his desk and sat down. “Why are you both here?”
“I was just leaving,” said Edith and picked up her black clutch purse from the desk. “I have a hair appointment at ten.” She paused by the front door. “Do you have a date for the Candy Apple Dance Friday night?”
Cas looked up from a stack of forms that he had yet to fill out. “Are you asking me?” He grinned at her.
Edith tittered. “I’m already going with Ed Schott. But I know his daughter, Isabelle, is planning to be there.”
Cas managed to bite back a groan. “I’ll be there in my official capacity.”
“She’s a pretty girl. Prettier than the other two that have been chasing you from one end of town to the other.”
Cas cracked his neck and felt pain shoot down his shoulder.
“Edith,” said her sister. “You leave the sheriff alone. He’s a busy man.”
“I’m just saying,” said Edith and left the station.
“Thanks, Lou.”
Lou shook her head. “She’s just angling to get Ed to ask her to marry him. But he won’t do that until he gets Isabelle settled.”
“Well, she’s not settling with me.”
“No. She’s too straight-laced for you.”
“Lou,” said Cas. “What makes you think I’m not straight-laced?”
Lou smiled the same smile that Edith had given him. “How long have I lived in this town? Sixty years now?”
Try seventy-one, thought Cas, but decided not to mention it.
“There was a time when we thought the Excelsior-Reynolds feud might come to an end.”
“Yeah,” said Cas. “Well, it didn’t.” He picked up a pen and started filling out forms. He heard Lou sigh, then the rustle of paper as she opened her magazine.
“It’s not too late. You can look forward to some licks of love around the end of the month.”
Cas raised an eyebrow at her.
“It says so right here.” Lou lifted her magazine for him to see. The front cover read, Ten Ways to Make Him Beg for More. “I wonder if Julie Excelsior will be there,” said Lou and turned the page.
When the chickens were back in the gazebo, Julie dressed and went to Henryville. She bought groceries and drove over to the real estate office. But she didn’t go in.
“I know,” she told Smitty as she unpacked the groceries. “I said we’d only be here a week. I lied.” She needed to find Wes’s money before she let people start traipsing all over the place. And she needed to get the house in better condition before putting it on the market.
Smitty looked up at her.
“Let me get out of these clothes and we’ll take a walk.” Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed in jeans and Wes’s coat and hat. She looked into the parlor where Smitty was sleeping on the hearth rug.
“Come on, boy. We’re going on a treasure hunt.”
They struck off down the driveway toward the pond. A layer of rime covered the surface; sticks and leaves were captured in the ice. Julie picked up a flat stone and tried to skip it across the ice. It broke through and sank.
“Lost my touch,” said Julie. Once she’d made a rock skip eight times. It was a record and Wes took Cas and her down Route 28 to the A & W for hot dogs and root beer floats. He had a—green pickup truck. She pushed at the ice with the toe of her boot. Cas was driving Wes’s old pickup.
They walked the perimeter of the pond, looked into nooks and crannies, all their old hiding places, and found nothing. Smitty ran ahead and once she found him digging. But when she rushed to see what he’d found, it was only a chipmunk’s hole.
They criss-crossed back toward the house, stopped in the shed where Julie moved supplies, looking for a hiding place. And found nothing.
They walked to the far side of the cleared area and into the orchard. The trees seemed more gnarled than before. Several branches had broken off and lay on the ground. She walked down the rows of trees, looking for a scrap of yellow paper. And found nothing.
Keeping an ear out for hunters, Julie entered the woods. She had heard the report of distant shots ever since her first day back, but none were close enough to make her worry about poachers.
The woods accounted for fifteen of the twenty acres. It was old and overgrown and easy to get lost, and their games never penetrated too far from the clearing.
But there had been a path that led through the woods. She climbed over a fallen log, pushed a low hanging branch out of the way and pressed on. It was much colder without the sun to warm the air. The ground was still saturated from the recent rain, and Julie slipped on wet leaves as she searched for the path.
At last she found it, marked by two large chunks of granite, partially hidden by leaves that had recently been trampled. Julie knelt and peered at the area.
Smitty lifted his nose to the wind.
“Yep. Someone’s been here and I bet it was our thief. And they were riding a motorcycle.” She just hoped it wasn’t Henley or Bo.
Smitty took off, leapt over a mass of leafless blackberry brambles and disappeared into the underbrush. Julie was about to follow him, when a squirrel shot out from the bushes, ran over Julie’s feet, and was gone. Smitty came loping toward her, head and tail held high.
“Very brave of you,�
�� said Julie and started down the path. Smitty fell in step beside her. She leaned over and began to search the ground; Smitty snuffled through the leaves. After a minute she stopped in front of an old tree stump. Was this the one they had used as a hiding place? She brushed leaves aside and found the tips of two stones they had covered with dirt to mark the place. This was it.
She knelt down and touched the stump; the wood fell away in slivers, disturbing a colony of insects. Julie sighed and stood up. Nothing but a bunch of termites. On to number two.
But none of the rocks, fissures, or old trees that had once held their secrets yielded anything but a few scraped knuckles.
They followed the path until they came to a glade deep within the woods. A huge boulder rose out of the forest floor. At least it used to be huge. Today it looked like a big rock. A ray of sun filtered through the trees and lit the surface.
She’d spent a lot of Saturdays on this boulder: tied up as a captive cowgirl, a captive robber, a captive princess.
She found a handhold and climbed up the face. Twice her feet slid on loose dirt and she was out of breath when she reached the top. Smitty was already there waiting for her.
“I used to be better at this,” she told him, brushing off her hands. “And anyway, you cheated. The back way’s for sissies.” She sat down at the top, crossed her legs, and lifted her face to the warmth of the sun.
While Smitty stood guard, Julie’s mind drifted into the past. Wes always had an adventure planned; he’d take them fishing or shooting or send them on treasure hunts. On warm sunny days, they’d lay in the grass and count the clouds, while Cass told them about the model ship he was building and where he would sail if it were real.
Or she and Cas would explore the woods and play. Invariably they would end up here, playing cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, or pirates and captive Princess, Julie tied up and Cas tickling her and sneaking peeks at her underwear. There was something a little kinky about all that bondage. She didn’t realize it at the time. And hadn’t thought about it since.
Well, she’d thought about it. But not that much. It was all innocent. Sort of. Until that stupid day on the river. Maybe, she and Cas were a little old to be playing make-believe, but she hadn’t realized it until Reynolds yanked the bandanna from Cas’s head and gave her a look of such contempt that her insides burned.
And there she stood with a tablecloth tied around her shoulders and she felt stupid and small and guilty. It was awful and humiliating then. Now it just seemed ridiculous. She’d felt betrayed when Cas let Reynolds take him away. Then the jokes started at school, and Cas had ignored her, let her face their taunts alone. That was what really hurt. Julie felt her lip tremble. “Actually, it still hurts.”
She felt better now that she’d said it out loud, something she had never done before. She felt better, but she wasn’t quite ready to forgive.
Chapter 11
Cas’s day was not going well. His first mistake was to have lunch at the hotel. He thought at least Christine would be tactful about his black eye. She wasn’t. Then she proceeded to pick his brain about Julie and what his intentions were. Alice Poole, another marriage hopeful, waylaid him on the street and wouldn’t leave until he promised to save her a dance on Friday night.
He spent the afternoon mucking around in the two empty chicken coops, looking for anything that he might have missed the first time, and came away with nothing more than shit-encrusted shoes. And a headache. By mid afternoon, he was considering sick leave when Mel, wearing her usual unrelieved black, poked her head into the station.
“Reynolds wants to see you,” she said. “He called the hotel.”
Cas groaned. “Why didn’t he just call here?”
“Easier to shoot the messenger, I guess. Christine answered. It upset her.”
“God damn it,” said Cas. Lou looked up from her magazine and tsked at him.
Cas got two aspirin out of his desk and took them dry. “All right.” He stood up. “You want a ride?”
“No. I have to work until nine. Ian’ll drive me.”
He left her at the door, watched her slouch down the sidewalk, beautiful and angry and lonely. Then he got into his police car.
Reynolds was waiting for him in the library, which Cas was beginning to think of as the interrogation room. He was standing at the French windows, staring out at the stone wall that separated Reynolds Place from Excelsior House. And Cas thought, Why don’t you get a job with George Quincy, instead of sitting around like the lord of the manor, slowly going broke? It would also do a world of good for your state of mind.
Cas cleared his throat.
Reynolds turned around and pointed his martini glass toward the decanter on his desk. Liquid sloshed out of his glass. His cheeks were already flushed and it was only three-thirty. “Pour yourself a drink, son.”
“No thanks. I’m on duty. Mel said you wanted to see me.”
“Heard that Excelsior girl gave you that black eye down at the Roadhouse.”
Cas’s hand went automatically to eye. “No. She gave me the bruised jaw. It was an accident.”
“Heard her car was seen at your place afterwards.”
My life is an open fucking book, thought Cas. “She was concerned that I might have a concussion.”
“She’ll make a fool of you.”
Cas sighed. “So you’ve told me.”
Reynolds walked over to his desk, weaving slightly. He sat down heavily in his padded leather chair, knocked back the rest of his martini, and leaned forward on his elbows. “What’s she doing here?” Reynolds pinned him with rheumy eyes and Cas felt a stab of pity at what his father had become.
“Wes left her the house in his will,” Cas said patiently. “She’s only been here four days. Give her a break.” And me, Cas thought. Give me a break for once.
“Four days is too long. She’s up to something.”
“She has things to attend to.”
“Wes sent her here to get back at me.”
Cas gripped the frayed strands of his control. “Wes is dead. Can’t you just leave her alone? She didn’t have anything to do with whatever happened between you and Wes. Or what happened a century and a half ago. Just leave her alone.”
“I won’t have her making up to you. Find a nice girl and settle down. That Isabelle Schott is pretty enough. And her family is respectable.”
Cas rubbed his forehead. “I’m not marrying Isabelle Schott. I’m not marrying anybody.”
“And you’re not going to be seen with Julie Excelsior. Get rid of those chickens and send her packing. This town doesn’t need the likes of her.”
Cas stood up and braced his hands on the desk, meeting his father’s angry eyes with determined ones. “She’s an Excelsior. This is Excelsior Falls.”
“She’s back here to destroy this family. Get rid of her. Or I will.”
“Dad,” he said, trying to calm his voice. “If you hurt her, you’ll answer to me.”
Reynolds pushed himself out of his chair and leaned across the desk until his face was inches from Cas. “You were always an idiot when it came to that piece of white trash. And it looks like you still are.”
Cas forced himself back from the desk. Took a deep breath. “Leave her alone,” he said evenly. “Wes is dead. The feud is over. It’s time you started getting on with your life.”
“Wes sent her to bring me down. She has to be stopped.”
Cas stared at him. His father. The man who gave him life. Whose genes Cas carried and who, Cas realized for the first time, was not just a little crazy, but was afraid.
“This isn’t about me or Julie, is it? You’re afraid of something she might find out. What are you hiding, Dad? What did you do?”
“How dare you,” rumbled Reynolds as his face turned from flushed red to near purple.
“Tell me, I’ll help. Is it something between you and Wes? Something about the Savings and Loan?” Thieves came in and stole the gold. “Tell me.”
T
he door opened and his mother fluttered in, a chiffon sash trailing behind her. “Cas. You should have told me you were here. I’ll have Larue set another place for dinner.”
Cas stood up, too tired to even think straight. He kissed her cheek. “I can’t stay.”
She smiled vacuously at him. “Of course, you’ll stay. I’ll just tell—”
“No, really. I can’t—”
“Let the boy go, Marian.”
Cas started for the door.
“You’re a Reynolds. You know what you have to do.”
Cas barely looked in his father’s direction. Bile was bitter in his throat. “Yeah. I know what I have to do.” But not as a Reynolds.
When Cas reached the bottom of the drive, he didn’t think twice about which way to go. He turned left and then left again into the next driveway. He saw Julie’s blue VW parked in front of the house and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was home.
He stopped his car beside it, turned off his cell phone and left it on the seat. He didn’t plan on being interrupted again.
The front door was open, but no one answered his knock. He walked around back. Called her name. No Julie or Smitty. They were probably walking in the woods, like he’d told her not to. The girl was infuriating. No sense of self-preservation at all, even if she did have a good right hook. He started up the hill toward the line of trees.
Julie lay back on the rock, her arms over her eyes. Smitty was warm at her side, and her mind drifted as her body grew drowsy in the sun. Then Smitty jumped to his feet and let out a loud bark. Julie sat up in time to see Cas step out of the trees. He strode straight toward the boulder and stopped below her.
Julie looked down at him and smiled. “Remember this?”
“Didn’t I tell you not to go walking in the woods?”
“We were taking a nap.”
“Don’t equivocate.” He scowled at her. Then his mouth curved in a half smile that made him look years younger. “Orange plaid suits you. I especially like the hat.”
Julie gave him a look and pulled the earflaps of Wes’s hat farther down over her ears. “I like it.” She stood up and sank into one hip; her feet shifted on the uneven surface.
