Tall, Dark, and Deadly

by Heather Graham

  But life was standing up for what you thought, or believed. Or for people. No matter what others said or thought.

  “Adelia, would you excuse me for just one minute? I need to run up and make a phone call.”

  “Si, I pick up.”

  “No!”

  “I pick up, or I never come over again.”

  Sam sighed with exasperation. “Okay, just set the dishes on the counter. You’re not here to work. You’re— hiding out.”

  “Si, Miss Sam,” Adelia agreed.

  As Sam started up the stairs to her desk phone, she could hear Adelia picking up the dishes—and scraping them. She shook her head. By the time she got back downstairs, Adelia would have the dishes washed and dried and probably put away.

  But it suddenly seemed important for her to call Teddy. She could call the missing-persons officers, but if they had learned anything at Marnie’s office, it was unlikely that they would share their information with her.

  The evening was wearing on, but she knew that Teddy had a tendency to work very late hours, so she tried his private office phone first. Yet even as it began to ring, she looked outside and noticed that there was someone standing on Marnie’s lawn. The reporter?

  No, she didn’t think so. This fellow was almost in the bushes.

  The phone was still ringing; Teddy wasn’t picking up.

  His answering machine came on. He gave his other numbers, his beeper number if it was an emergency, and then allowed for a message. It wasn’t an emergency. “Teddy,” she said, still staring down at the figure in the bushes, “it’s Sam. Call me. Please. As soon as possible.”

  She hung up, then moved around to the front window to look out and see if the reporters were still out there by the Jeep.

  The red Jeep was gone.

  She paused, then jumped as her phone began to ring. She made a dive for it, surprised that Teddy would be calling her back so quickly.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you holding my maid hostage?”

  “No! We had dinner.”

  “Really?” He sounded wistful.

  “Why, is that a problem for you?”

  “My God, you are one testy woman. No, Adelia is more than welcome to have dinner with you. She is a warm and wonderful human being, and I hope you made her something delicious. It’s just that the thought of it makes me hungry. Actually, I just wanted to make sure that everything was all right.”

  “Everything is fine, except—” She broke off.

  “What?”

  “The reporters are gone, I think. The red Jeep is gone. I don’t see another car—but there’s someone standing by Marnie’s big croton in the front.”

  “Someone? A him or a her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll go and find out.”

  “No, Rowan, wait. We should just call the police. Rowan—”

  “You can’t call the police on people just for standing by a bush.”

  “Maybe it’s whoever took Marnie.”

  “We don’t know that anyone took Marnie.”

  “I think someone made her leave,” Sam said stubbornly. “I know Marnie.”

  She heard him sigh. Then he said, “If someone took Marnie, why would he be back now?”

  “Because criminals… return to the scene of the crime, don’t they?”

  “Am I supposed to answer that from experience?” he asked dryly.

  “No, I just—”

  “I’ll go down. We’ll find out.”

  “No—”

  “Sam, it’s all right. I’ll be careful.”

  “No, Rowan, no!”

  But he’d already hung up the phone.

  Chapter 11

  Rowan quietly exited his house by the basement, moving slowly. It had been a ridiculous night, he mused. He’d jumped into the bay to get away from a reporter. And now he was sneaking around in the dark to try to find a trespasser on Marnie’s property.

  He came silently along the side of his house, hugging the bushes closest to his own property. Sam was right. There was someone there. Just standing, staring up at the house. He was far back against the bushes.

  Rowan inched closer, then he paused, frowning.

  He had reached a distance at which he could see the nocturnal visitor fairly clearly. The fellow was dressed in black Levi’s and a chocolate-colored polo shirt, which made him blend in well with the night. He appeared fairly tall, not too heavy, but in the shadows it was hard to discern his true size.

  Rowan decided not to take any chances.

  He could handle himself in a fight. Other kids had made fun of Ewan, and he had never allowed an attack on his brother to go unanswered. After one brawl when he was about ten, a feisty old teacher had taken him in hand, telling him that if he felt the urge to fight, he should be doing it for the school’s boxing and wrestling teams.

  Now he judged the distance of his enemy, and his size and weight the best he could. Speed meant as much as strength; if the fellow did have a weapon, he had to take him down before he could use it.

  Rowan swept along the back of the property line and hedges, came around Sam’s side of Marnie’s property. He was close to his quarry now—any closer and he took a chance of being heard. He bolted from his position, flying with all the speed he could muster.

  He had the element of surprise. He caught hold of the shadowy trespasser, tackled him, and knocked him down. The fellow’s breath expelled in a long whoosh. Then he gasped for air and protested: “Hey, please!”

  The voice was familiar. Rowan rolled him over. It was Marnie’s brother.

  “Thayer?”

  “Yes, it’s Thayer… please, I don’t mean any harm. Could I possibly get up?”

  Rowan stood, reaching down a hand to the young man. Thayer grasped it and rose. He grimaced at Rowan and began dusting off his jeans and polo shirt. “Thanks. Hey, for a musician, you tackle pretty well.”

  “Sorry. Thayer, what are you doing out here, skulking around in the bushes?” Thayer looked across Marnie’s yard, swallowed. Guiltily, Rowan thought. He kept looking at the young man who stood awkwardly before him. Then he asked again. “Thayer, what are you doing out here like this?”

  “I came to see if Marnie was back yet, but she didn’t answer when I knocked. I know half the world has a key to her house, but I’m afraid I’m not among that half.”

  “I don’t think she’s come back. I admit to being worried about her myself now.”

  “Yeah, I’m worried, too.”

  “So why were you hiding in the bushes?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Rowan arched a brow.

  “Honestly…” He looked around himself and laughed. He did look a lot like Marnie. He was an interesting young man. So good-looking he was almost pretty, and yet, despite his looks and his thinness, he didn’t seem effeminate. “I guess it looks strange,” he said. “But after no one answered the door, I came back here to study the house. I was just looking at its architecture.”

  “You like architecture?”

  “Art. I love art. My sister thinks I’m a fool because I paint and sell my stuff off the sidewalk down in the Grove, or out on the beach. But I’m happy. She can’t seem to accept that. I make a decent income.”

  “Well, if you’re happy and surviving, that’s great.”

  “Yeah, I’m great, really, but I’m honestly worried about Marnie now.”

  “I guess we’re all getting more and more concerned. It’s hard to imagine Marnie missing work on purpose, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Thayer agreed flatly. “And my father…”

  “What?”

  Thayer shook his head. Then he looked at Rowan with a shrug. “My father is a drunken asshole, and he wants to talk to Marnie, or have her declared legally dead.”

  “What?”

  “Sick, isn’t it?”

  “Well, thankfully, it’ll be a very long time before he can declare her legally dead.”

  “Yeah. Don’t repeat t
hat, please. I try to look after him, kind of—he is my old man. But he’s a wretched old alcoholic. Marnie hates him—and he hates her. He’s got it in his head that Marnie had life because of him and so she owes him anything that she makes. Marnie thinks that she made a life despite him and he should do us both a favor and drop dead. It’s terrible. Talk about your dysfunctional family.”

  Rowan didn’t get to reply. The thought had begun to form in his head that although tragic events had happened in his life, his family had never been that dysfunctional. He’d known about Colin Newcastle already. Marnie had told him.

  “Rowan?”

  He heard his name called and realized that Sam had come out her front door. He winced, making a mental note to remind her that she’d been inside for safety— stepping out when she didn’t hear from him immediately wasn’t a good idea.

  “Yeah, Sam, I’m here—at Marnie’s. With Thayer.”

  “Thayer?” Sam came around her front yard to the property line and found them both by the hedge. “Thayer! Hi, what are you doing here?”

  “Checking on my sister.”

  “She hasn’t come back,” Sam said softly, obviously concerned for the young man.

  “I know. Rowan told me.”

  “The police are working on it.” She tried to sound cheerful.

  “Oh, yeah, I know. They grilled me endlessly. As if I would hurt my own sister.”

  Rowan cleared his throat. “Well, you did say it was your basic dysfunctional family.”

  Thayer glowered at him, eyes both furious and hurt. “I love Marnie!” he said stubbornly. “You don’t understand. She may not approve of me, but growing up, we were all each other had. Don’t you understand that? No, maybe you can’t understand!” he added, looking down. “It was a strange house,” he said gruffly.

  “Thayer, why don’t you come on in my house? Adelia and I just had pasta. There’s plenty left.”

  “I didn’t come to bother anyone—”

  “You won’t be bothering anyone. You’re one of my best friend’s little brother. You come on in.”

  Rowan stared at Sam. She was about to take the young man in her arms and smother him with feminine concern. He looked at Thayer again. Definitely the artistic type. Slim, wiry, slightly long, really good hair. Big eyes.

  But he’d tackled the kid. He might be skinny, but he was strong. He might be just a young man struggling for his own identity against a harrowing past—or the past might have made him just a little bit psychotic.

  “Thayer, please, come on in,” Sam insisted. Her hazel eyes were bright, green and gold. She looked like a waif, feet bare, long legs perfect as they stretched from her shorts, hair just swept up with a pin, light tendrils framing her delicate face.

  Rowan cleared his throat. “Hey, I could sure go for some pasta. Am I invited as well?” He glared at Sam. He forced a smile. “After all, it seems that you have been keeping my domestic assistant hostage over there.”

  As if startled—just realizing that he really was there— she looked back at him. “I’ve been keeping your domestic assistant hostage?”

  “Adelia,” he reminded her.

  “Oh. Yes. Well, I—umm—of course, I suppose.”

  Yes, it would be rude if she just ignored him after having talked to him previously about their unknown nocturnal visitor.

  “Thanks.”

  Only in America. He was slipping in through the graces of his maid.

  As they walked across the lawns, they saw the lights of a car driving down the street toward the three houses at the tip of their little peninsula. Sam shaded her eyes. “I wonder who…”

  Marnie.

  They could all tell she was hoping against hope that it was Marnie.

  But it wasn’t Marnie’s car. Hers was a black BMW. This car was light.

  “May be that reporter coming back after you, Rowan,” she warned.

  “Maybe we should hurry,” he said, feeling tension slipping back into his every muscle. He set a hand on Sam’s shoulder, thinking he could urge her along. But she resisted.

  “No, no, it’s all right. It’s just my cousin.”

  “Who?”

  But she had already started forward. A little yellow Honda pulled into the drive and he saw Lacey Henley stepping out. Sam gave her a hug.

  “Laura Henley’s daughter?” Thayer asked Rowan softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow.”

  The kid was pretty wow. Young, graceful, like a doe. A dancer, Laura had told him. A good one. He could believe it. He’d seen her moving around the floor while her brother had been playing on the beach.

  Thayer Newcastle stepped on past Rowan, walking toward the car. He shrugged and followed.

  “I have a terrible crick in my neck,” Lacey was saying. “I was going to call you, but Mom said just to get in the car and come on over. She said you’d be here. And I’m… I’m restless tonight, I guess. I just needed to get out for a while—Mom said that you hadn’t called her for any wild activities, so you must be home.”

  Rowan lowered his head, trying not to smile. He saw Sam’s face turn beet-red.

  “You heard about the club, huh?” Rowan said. Sam cast him a warning glare.

  “Yeah,” Lacey said, and for some reason she looked more uncomfortable than Sam.

  “Um, I’ll be happy to work on your crick,” Sam said. “Let’s go on in.”

  But Lacey wasn’t listening. She was staring at Rowan, and she seemed a little less uneasy as she smiled. “Mr. Dillon. It’s really great to see you again. Mom says you come right to the rescue when you’re asked. And you were so wonderful about my brother the other night. I can’t tell you what it meant to him, that you came to watch him play and said such great things about him and the group.”

  “They are good. I wouldn’t have said so if they weren’t.”

  “But still… you just being there…”

  The tone of her voice was so grateful and adoring that he felt his own face turning red. But he remembered. It was a tough world. Until you had a record label, until you were recognized by the radio stations and MTV, you were just another player. It was a rocky road.

  “I had a great night,” he said simply.

  Sam cleared her throat. “Okay, Lacey, he’s great, we all adore him. Maybe we could go in now? Oh, and have you met—”

  But she didn’t need to introduce the young man hovering just behind Rowan.

  “Hi. Lacey, right?” Thayer said, stepping forward. Lacey’s eyes widened, and she smiled curiously as she let Thayer take her hand. “Yeah, hi, I’m Lacey, but we’ve met before, right—?”

  “I’m Thayer, Marnie’s brother.”

  “Yeah! You come to see my brother play a lot. That’s great. You know, when you’re just starting out, it makes such a difference if you can really get an audience at the local clubs.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m an artist, and getting the galleries to pay attention is just about the same.”

  “I have friends who have gone off to New York or L. A. just to get hired to come back and work shows here!” Lacey said. “In fact, guess what I’m doing this weekend, Sam?”

  “What?”

  “Just that! A friend of mine found out about a show that’s being cast, and a group of us are going to share the expenses and go up and give it a fling, Imagine! We have to go to New York to try to get cast in a show that will play right here!”

  “Well, good luck, Lacey. We know you’re good.”

  “I can tell,” Thayer interrupted. “You are good. Really good. The best.”

  “How can you tell?” Lacey’s innocent smile was all for Thayer then.

  “I’ve seen you move,” he told her. And grinned. “Pure poetry.”

  Lacey kept smiling. She and Thayer seemed to have forgotten that they weren’t alone.

  Rowan looked at Sam. She stared back at him. He shrugged. “Still want to do the pasta thing? I could take you out somewhere. We could leave them standing in the yard for a w
hile. They might not notice that we’ve gone until we get back.”

  She smiled sourly. “You’re forgetting I have that crick thing to take care of.”

  He grinned. She flushed, lowering her lashes briefly, as if to hide some emotion from him. Was she as determined as she claimed not to get involved again? Yes, she’d made that obvious.

  Maybe not. There had been last night…

  Right. Too much to drink, and a strip show.

  Today, she seemed more alarmed, as if she had discovered that whatever had been between them hadn’t changed. It had always been so easy to talk. He felt a twist in his heart, thinking about the first time he’d met her. It had been at a small coffeehouse in Gainesville. He hadn’t been with the group that night; some friends had talked him into doing an acoustic set with one of the owner’s guitars. She had come to him afterward, telling him how much she had enjoyed the power of his voice. It was great with the group, but she’d seen him in concert once and she had to admit the amplifiers had been bad and the drums had been overpowering. “It’s easy for that to happen, I know. I love the drums myself,” she had told him.

  And later that night, he had heard her play. At his house. She hadn’t slept there that night, or with him. He had kissed her good-bye. And she had stared at him with her beautiful eyes, innocent eyes that were yet strangely wise. “You’re married—”

  “No more,” he had assured her. “No more.”

  It hadn’t been a lie. Yet it hadn’t been the truth. And it had come back to haunt him.

  Sam, he realized, had started for the house. He quickly snapped back to the present and followed. Lacey and Thayer must have remembered that Sam and Rowan did exist, because they followed as well.

  Adelia, worried, met them at the front door. “Mr. Rowan, everything is all right?”

  “Yes, Adelia, things are fine. This is Marnie Newcastle’s brother, Thayer, and Sam’s second cousin, Lacey Henley. Thayer, Lacey, Adelia Garcia.”

  “But who was in the bushes?” Adelia asked.

  “Guilty,” Thayer told her. “I didn’t intend to be in the bushes—I was just staring up at the house, wondering where my sister could be.”