Grace Takes Off

by Julie Hyzy

  The sun was doing its nightly disappearing act, purpling the clouds and shooting beams of shimmering orange out in its bursting farewell. I made my way down the graying, crooked steps to sit on the very bottom one. That would allow Bootsie the full six feet of her leash to explore whatever sidewalk, soft grass, and jumping bugs she could reach on the nearby ground. So engrossed was I in watching her belly-crawling antics that I didn’t notice Jack until he was almost halfway up my front walk.

  My breath caught in my throat. “Hi,” I said in a strangled voice. He wore dress slacks and a collared shirt. Loafers that made no sound against the concrete. Too surprised by his appearance sauntering up my walk, I didn’t have time to summon a dismissive “Oh, it’s you” tone. Nope, in that one high-pitched “Hi,” I communicated embarrassment from the meet-up with Becke the other night and my instinctive appreciation of him, looking all cleaned up and handsome.

  “You busy?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Does it look like it?”

  He closed the distance between us, crouching to pet Bootsie. “She remembers me,” he said when she nuzzled against his hand.

  I started to say, “She does that with everyone,” but bit my lip.

  He sat next to me, asking, “May I?” even as his back end met the uneven step.

  My natural inclination was to apologize, and I started to form the words to express regret for interrupting his date with Becke on Friday. This time, however, I held my tongue. He’d come to see me. There must be a reason.

  Crickets chirped, welcoming the rolling dusk.

  He picked up a thick twig and began peeling at its bark with a fingernail. One long pale green line in a bumpy brown stub. “Becke’s not moving in with me,” he said.

  “Change of plan?”

  His face tightened. “She’s moving into my dad’s house. That’s all it is. She and her kids are going through a bad time and my dad’s house is, well, you know . . .”

  I did know. While the paternal head of the Embers family served time in prison, the house remained empty.

  “Having them live in it is good for everyone,” Jack said, still scratching at the twig. More lines of pale green joined the first. “She catches a break, and I don’t have to worry about vandals.”

  “We have that much vandalism in Emberstowne?”

  Even in the rapidly waning light, I could see his cheeks color. He turned his attention away from the twig and met my wavering gaze. I wasn’t feeling particularly strong right now, but I wasn’t about to play the compliant female, either.

  His mouth was so tight I could barely see his teeth when he spoke. “I’m doing a favor for someone I was once close to. Is that so wrong?”

  “Very gentlemanly.”

  My sarcasm sat between us like a lump.

  I kept my gaze averted for as long as I could. Tiring of treading the awkward silence, I reached for Bootsie, who wiggled away. “I should get in.” I reached for her again.

  “Wait,” he said. “Please.”

  That surprised me into silence.

  “Who was the guy you met outside Hugo’s Friday night?” he asked.

  I sat back. “You followed me?”

  “I wanted to explain and to apologize for Becke’s behavior. All I’m doing is giving her a place to stay, a home for her kids.”

  “She wants more, doesn’t she?”

  “I don’t.” He waited for me to make eye contact. “You know that, don’t you?”

  I lifted my gaze to the inky purple sky. Stars were out there, almost. I could feel their presence even if I couldn’t yet see them. “Lately it feels as though I don’t know anything.”

  “They say timing is everything in relationships.”

  Hadn’t I just told myself that? “They do.”

  “Can we try again?” he asked. “Start over?”

  I hesitated.

  He handed me the twig. I could barely make it out, but he’d scratched a word in the little branch. It read, “Maybe?”

  My stomach flip-flopped at the touching gesture. I swallowed as hope and memories of disappointment collided in my heart, making it swell even as it raced with fear and anticipation.

  “Becke,” I finally said. “She’s going to be a force to contend with.”

  “I can handle her.”

  I squinted, barely able to see the shrubbery nearest the street now, but with sudden clarity when it came to mistakes of the heart I’d made in the past. I couldn’t make those mistakes again. I turned to him. “I won’t fight another woman for a man’s affection or attention—”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  Temptation was terrific. Gathering all the strength I could muster, I said the words that were right for me, right now. “Get Becke settled. Do whatever you need to do for her. It really is a great kindness you’re offering.”

  “I swear there’s nothing—”

  Emboldened by the power of my decision, I reached forward and placed my finger against his lips. They were soft, warm pillows in the rapidly cooling night air, but I wouldn’t allow myself to think about them right now. Not in that way. “I won’t be ‘the other woman’ in Becke’s world. She’ll never be genuinely settled until she understands that you’re not part of her new life. Until then, I won’t be involved in the drama. I can’t.”

  “I’m sure she’ll understand soon. Very soon.”

  I wasn’t so sure but smiled to be kind.

  “Will you wait for me?” he asked.

  I knew better than to say that I would. “One step at a time.”

  He nodded then tilted his head. “You never answered my question. Who was the guy who followed you the other night?”

  I stared up at the sky again. “Trouble.”

  Chapter 27

  FRANCES WAS IN THE OFFICE FIRST THE NEXT morning. “So.” She threw off her reading glasses, allowing them to hang from the jeweled chain around her neck. “How’s Jack? Is he selling you the line that his relationship with Becke is merely platonic?”

  I stopped in my tracks. “I give up, Frances. How do you do it?”

  Her chin poked upward. “What happened?”

  I’d been barely able to find the words to tell my roommates about Jack’s visit. I wasn’t about to carry on with my telephone-tele-Frances assistant. Half the town would be chittering about it before noon. I raised my gaze to the ceiling. Assuming they aren’t already. “Tell your grapevine that you have it on good authority that I’m still single and intend to remain so.”

  As her chin dropped, her lower lip jutted, and those eyebrows shot for the sky. I’d surprised her. “But I thought—”

  “End of story.”

  To punctuate my statement, I headed straight into my office and shut the door. My desk phone rang a moment later. I picked it up without checking caller ID, thinking it was Frances calling to make amends.

  “Yes?” I answered, realizing almost instantly that I’d made a foolish assumption. Frances apologize? Not likely.

  “What gives, Grace?”

  A male voice. Irate for some reason. I’d heard this voice before. Recently, too. I tried to place it. Not Williamson.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  He wasn’t letting up. “Where do you get off investigating me? If you wanted to know something, why not just ask?”

  Boom. “Adam?”

  “You’re lucky we didn’t press charges.”

  I matched his tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Belatedly, I remembered. “Oh wait.”

  “‘Oh wait’ is right. Glad to see you have your memory back. Who is this Tooney stooge, anyway?”

  I stood up, as though doing so would give me power. Tooney told me he’d been following Adam. And if Adam was in cahoots with Gerard, our would-
be private detective could be in big trouble. “Don’t hurt him. Please.”

  “Hurt him?” Adam’s ire evaporated. “Why would I hurt him?”

  “Because . . .” I stopped myself before giving anything away. “I want to talk with him.” I imbued my voice with as much gravitas as possible. “I want to hear for myself that he’s all right.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Adam asked. “You hired him to follow me, now you act as though I’m holding him hostage.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Oh boy.” The soft scratching noise that traveled through the phone line led me to believe Adam was rubbing his face. “Your minion is down at the police station answering questions right now.”

  At the police station? I took a moment to process why guilty killers would involve the police. Came up empty. What I said was: “He’s hardly my minion.”

  “You hired him to follow me. Why?”

  Frances popped in. No surprise there. She sat at my desk, engrossed in my conversation. Receiver gripped to my ear, I knew how Bootsie must have felt last night, pacing behind my desk only as far as the corded handset would allow. At least it wasn’t Frances holding the leash. I was too worked up right now to chase her out.

  “What does it matter if you have nothing to hide?”

  Adam’s voice was low, more curious than agitated now. “What’s going on over there?” he asked. “You must have had a good reason for having me tailed.” He sounded almost hopeful. “What is it? Help me understand.”

  I wasn’t about to share my theories with him.

  He took my hesitation as reluctance. “Your investigator shouted Jerry’s name when he was talking on the phone with you. Why would you be interested in him? I thought you said you didn’t even like the Curling Weasels.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on, Grace.”

  Anger got the best of me. I knew better than to throw caution to the wind, but all the fear for Bennett that I’d kept bottled up, all the panic I’d felt on that flight, all the disappointment brewing around whatever it was I had with Jack, erupted in a volcano of spite. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? How convenient that you’re working with Gerard Pezzati. Did you ever think to mention that?”

  He started to speak, but there was no stopping me now—steamrolling over anything or anyone in my way. “You came here to Marshfield. I trusted you. What were you trying to do? A little reconnaissance? You didn’t get the job done right the first time, so you’re back to try again? How much is Gerard paying you?”

  Heat suffused my face in a way that made it feel as though all the blood in my body was likely to geyser out the top of my head. “Consider yourself forewarned.” My words chomped out like angry bites. “Come anywhere near Marshfield Manor. . . . come anywhere near Bennett, and I will see to it that you’re hauled off for good.”

  He was silent. “I . . . don’t know what to say. Nothing you’re saying makes any sense.”

  “Where is Ronny Tooney?” I demanded. “Send him home. Safely. Now.”

  “Grace.” Adam’s voice was soft and low.

  “Don’t make me come after you.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I slammed the phone back into its cradle and resumed pacing. Frances sat silently, watching me. “That went well.”

  I thrust my hands skyward. “What would you have me do?” I said. “I can’t find out who targeted Bennett, I can only surmise. If it’s Vandeen Deinhart, we’re at least almost out of the woods. Once Bennett signs the closing documents, Deinhart won’t benefit from doing Bennett any harm.”

  “Rodriguez and Flynn don’t think he’s responsible,” she reminded me.

  “Thank you for that news flash. With their track record of hunting down killers, I thoroughly value their opinions.”

  She sat expressionless, unfazed.

  “This Pinky. Priscilla. Diane. The dead woman.” I paced, turning to face Frances with each statement. “She was working for someone else. I know it. We can’t connect her to Gerard Pezzati, but we can connect her to SlickBlade.” I looked at Frances again. “Adam’s band boarded the plane with Pinky in tow. Adam works with Gerard Pezzati.”

  Frances remained silent.

  “What do I do? Wait for that Detective Williamson to show up? He’s even harder to convince than Rodriguez and Flynn are. I need to uncover whatever connects Pinky to Gerard. It’s got to be out there. All I need to do is find it.”

  “Maybe you should meet with Gerard Pezzati yourself.”

  I stopped walking. “Oh sure, I’ll waltz over to his office, accuse him of stealing a piece of art worth millions of dollars, tell him I know he’s been communicating with Antoinette, Pezzati’s cook, in order to embezzle more, and that he’s doing all this because he’s been cut out of his daddy’s will. To top it all off, I’ll accuse him of attempted murder. Mind you, I don’t have a shred of solid proof. How do you think that will go over? Do think I would even make it back alive?”

  Frances stood, brushing her hands down the front of her lavender shirt. “I’m not suggesting you go in with guns blazing.” She eyed me with an odd glint I hadn’t seen before. “Even if your heart’s in the right place, your aim is off. Way off.”

  My rapid breaths were slowing, the tension in my shoulders easing. “What are you suggesting?”

  “You need to find out what connects Gerard with Pinky, right? Talk to the man. Pretend you hope to arrange a reconciliation between him and his father. Tell him that’s why you hired Tooney. To get a read on the situation.”

  “After I just went off on Adam? They would never buy it.”

  “You won’t know unless you try. New York isn’t all that far. But for heaven’s sakes, don’t go alone. Take Terrence. Take a couple of the guys with you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “I’ll go with you, if you like.”

  I sat behind my desk. Like I had been last night, I was sorely tempted. I wanted answers to all my questions. Most of all, I wanted Bennett to be safe. But I didn’t want to be stupid about it.

  My cell phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Tooney,” I said to Frances. When I clicked in I didn’t even say hello. “What happened?”

  The wannabe private eye’s voice was resigned, even sheepish. “I got busted.”

  “Talk to me, Tooney. Hang on. Let me put you on speakerphone.”

  When I did, he started talking. “I told you that Adam was a rich guy. Never dawned on me that he had bodyguards watching out for people like me. They tagged me and took me down right after I hung up with you.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Couple of bumps and bruises from when they dragged me into their limo. The guys were professional. They took me to a quiet place and asked questions. Lots of questions.”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I never told them who I was working for. They figured that out when they saw where I was from. I’m sorry, Grace. I would never knowingly give up that information.”

  I sighed. “It’s okay. What did they want?”

  Frances sat up.

  “Weird,” Tooney said. “Strangest thing.”

  “Explain,” I said.

  “They didn’t seem to know what they wanted. They hammered me, asking why I’d been following that Adam.”

  “Physically hammered you?”

  “Nah,” he said. “That’s an expression. When they came up empty they took me to the P.D. and threatened to press charges for stalking a celebrity.”

  “Why didn’t you call me? I’d have bailed you out.”

  “Then the police would know who I was working for, and I didn’t want to reveal your name. The bodyguards didn’t tell the cops any of that,
and I told you I wouldn’t ever give up that information as long as it was in my power to keep it secret.”

  “I appreciate that, Tooney, but that’s a little above and beyond. How did you get out?”

  “Charges dropped. They let me out and handed me my stuff, and I called you right away.”

  “Huh,” I said, exchanging a glance with Frances. “How soon can you be back?”

  He hesitated. “Should I catch a flight or take a train?”

  “Fly back, Tooney.”

  “You know it’s probably more expensive?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, Tooney. I know.”

  Chapter 28

  WHEN I HUNG UP WITH TOONEY, I FACED Frances. “I like your idea of visiting Gerard Pezzati,” I said. “I especially like the idea of taking Terrence along.”

  “And me?”

  “Why do you want to go?”

  “Why should you have all the fun?”

  I was spent. “You do realize we’re talking about investigating murders and attempted murders. How on earth do you count that as fun?”

  She shrugged.

  The desk phone jangled. “Who is it now?” I asked rhetorically. I grabbed for the receiver and saw the name on the display, and my shoulders slumped.

  “Who is it?” Frances asked.

  I bit my bottom lip and decided to let it go to voicemail. “Hillary.” I knew Frances would eventually find out about Bennett’s stepdaughter renovating my house, but I intended to put off that moment of disclosure for as long as possible.

  Frances stood, preparing to return to her office, giving me a quizzical look. “How’s that new business of hers coming along?” she asked.

  “No idea.”

  “When do you want to leave? For New York, I mean.”

  I thought about it. “Signor Pezzati is due here in the next couple of days. Let’s wait until we talk with him. I’d rather meet Gerard with all my facts straight.” I stopped, realizing from the indicator light on my phone that Hillary had left a message. Great. “How does that sound?”