Yesterday's Shadow: A Lacey Summers Mystery

by Curry, Edna

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’m enjoying it. The days and the nights,” Mark said with a wicked smile.

  Lacey returned the smile. “Is that a promise for tonight?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  Happiness slid down inside her.

  They worked hard for the next two days, readying the itemized list for the real estate agent. All the while, they kept their eyes open for anything small enough, yet valuable enough to be hidden behind a picture.

  Frustration made both of their tempers run short. Nor were their tempers improved when Jake Garner stopped by one afternoon. Jake was furious when Lacey told him she had listed the shop with an agent, and was trying to sell the business as a whole rather than closing it out and selling just the inventory to him.

  They ate quick meals at the Flame or heated ready-to-heat fast foods in the microwave. Those were offset by evenings in front of the fireplace, sharing popcorn or cocoa, then nights of enjoying each other’s bodies in her bed.

  By late Saturday afternoon, when Mark reminded her of the Ronning dinner party, Lacey was glad for any excuse for a break from doing inventory. She and Mark were going to the party together and Marion had invited Dave as her date.

  “It’s time to go if we’re going to be at Aunt Martha’s dinner on time,” Mark said. “You know how she is...a Ronning dinner is a production...”

  “But they’re always so nice, and the food is a dream, you know she’ll have had Marie and her helpers working all day for it.”

  As he dropped her off to dress, Mark suggested, “It’s so beautiful out tonight, how about taking my boat across the lake instead of driving around it?”

  “Sure.” A boat ride in the moonlight sounded so romantic.

  “I’ll be back for you in an hour. Bring a coat, it may be cool on the lake by the time we return tonight.”

  Mark’s boat was small, but comfortable. He handed her in with an easy motion and stole a kiss before releasing her.

  “Hey, let’s not start that. You’ll ruin my make-up and everyone will guess what we’ve been up to.”

  “Can I help it if you’re so tempting?” He turned the key and the motor hummed. “Ready?” He turned to make sure she was seated in the comfortable vinyl seat.

  In a minute they were gliding across the lake, a slight breeze ruffling her short curls. The lights of the Ronning’s large home grew larger as they approached. Music surrounded them as Mark killed the motor, secured the boat and handed her out onto the dock.

  A dozen people were already standing about on the lighted patio with drinks in their hands. Lacey recognized most of the young couples, including Dave and Marion. Mark introduced her to the others and also several more of his older relatives, as they milled about, talking, eating hors d’oeuvres, and sipping cocktails.

  “I thought Kate went back to Florida?” Marion asked.

  “Why, yes, she did.”

  “Well, she’s back.”

  Lacey turned to see Marion was right. A wave of Chanel number five enveloped her as Kate came to greet her.

  “You flew all the way back just for this party?” Lacey asked incredulously, accepting her mother’s kiss and kissing Kate’s cheek in return. Lacey noted her mother was wearing a new designer dress, and her hair was freshly coifed as usual.

  “Well, no,” Kate admitted a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been in Minnesota for the last couple of weeks. Carl has been teasing me about putting on a few pounds, so when he had to go on a business trip, I signed up for a session at this new European Spa near Minneapolis.”

  “But I thought Jerry called you in Florida when Henry was murdered?”

  “He just left a message on my answering machine. I called in for my messages and then just went to the airport where he picked me up. I know it was silly to pretend.”

  “Why are you telling us now, then?”

  Kate nodded to where Ben was chatting with Dave. “Ben found me out. To think he actually thought that I could have had something to do with killing poor Henry. Imagine! My own brother.” She looked appealingly at Lacey. “You don’t think I could have, do you, Lacey?”

  Lacey watched Kate’s face crumple into near tears. Then Kate recovered, but there were new lines on her face that Lacey hadn’t noticed before. For the first time, she seemed to really want Lacey’s opinion, to care what Lacey thought and felt.

  “Of course not, Mom. But...then you were at the mall on Friday when Mrs. Ronning talked to you?”

  “Yes. Another gal and I decided we couldn’t stand another vegetarian meal, so we left the Spa and went to the mall for the afternoon for a little shopping and a big steak. But I certainly didn’t come out to Landers that night and kill poor Henry. I told Ben he could check with the Spa on what time we returned.”

  “I know you didn’t kill Henry, Mom, and I’m sure Ben does, too.” Lacey said, relieved that her mother had been cleared of suspicion.

  As Lacey had predicted, Mrs. Ronning’s dinner was superb. A variety of salads were followed by generous portions of prime rib and steamed vegetables.

  “Marie is a treasure, isn’t she?” Marion asked. “It’s always such a treat to eat her cooking.”

  “True,” Mark said. “These vegetables are still crisp, instead of soggy. I don’t know what they do to them in the cafeteria where I usually eat lunch, but they taste as though they had been cooked for hours instead of minutes.”

  “They probably came out of a can to start with,” Lacey said, smiling at his pleasure. She watched him chew, thinking that his face looked much as it had this morning when she’d soaped and touched him in the shower.

  “Lacey, you’re on cloud nine again,” Marion scolded, beside her.

  “Sorry. What did you say?” Lacey turned her head to bring her gaze back to Marion.

  “Dave was asking if your car is working all right?”

  “Yes, fine, Dave. Why, shouldn’t it be?”

  “Have you been locking it in the garage at night?”

  “No, Ben’s deputy returned Henry’s truck the other day, and there’s only room for one vehicle in the garage. Why?” Lacey stared at him, hardly noticing as Marie placed a piece of French Silk pie in front of her.

  “No reason. But no telling what might happen again,” Dave said, suddenly looking at Mark, embarrassed.

  “What do you mean, happen again?” Lacey’s voice rose, and conversation around the table stopped as everyone stared.

  “Yes, Mark, what have you two been up to?” Martha Ronning put in suspiciously. “Dave looks like a cat caught with cream on its whiskers, and that look on your face reminds me of the times when you were little and I caught you with your hand in my cookie jar.”

  “What has been going on?” Kate demanded, suddenly very protective of her daughter.

  Mark and Dave looked at Ben.

  Ben looked back at them and shrugged as if to say the gig was up.

  “I’ll tell her,” Dave sighed, putting down his forkful of pie and looking apologetically at Lacey. “I never agreed with Ben that you should be kept in the dark anyway. That was no car accident you had the other night. The brakes were deliberately damaged on your car, Lacey. Someone caused that ‘accident.’”

  “Someone wanted to hurt her?”

  “But who would have wanted to...”

  “They both could have been killed.”

  “Yes, we could have,” Mark said, reaching across the table to take Lacey’s hand. “But we weren’t, and I promised Ben I would do my best to watch over you until he catches whoever did it. You do believe I will take care of you, don’t you, Lacey?”

  Lacey pulled her hand away, casting him an angry glare.

  “I don’t want to be ‘taken care of’ like a child. I’m a grown woman and I want you to treat me like one, not hide things from me ‘for my own good.’”

  “But, Lacey...”

  “No! I trusted you guys! How do I know one of you wasn’t involved?”

  “They were o
nly following my orders,” Ben put in. “I thought the murderer might tip his hand if his handiwork was treated like an accident and he thought he’d gotten away with it.”

  “In other words, I was to be set up so that he might try again to kill me?” Her voice rose incredulously as she stared first at Ben, then Mark.

  “Oh, not quite like that, Lacey!”

  “He won’t get a chance, Lacey. I’ve been with you almost every moment, haven’t I?” Mark asked quietly.

  Of course he had, she thought, looking round the table of interested listeners, suddenly embarrassed at what they must be thinking. So, he had only spent the night with her at Ben’s urging, not because he wanted to. And now everyone probably guessed that he had.

  He hadn’t made love to her, he’d only taken advantage of her availability and her willingness. How could she have been so blind?

  She rose from the table, her fork clattering into her French Silk Pie, spattering the creamy chocolate unnoticed onto her peach lace evening dress.

  She swallowed, struggling to talk past the dryness in her throat. “I’m afraid I feel ill, Mrs. Ronning. I’m sorry... Goodnight, everyone.”

  Training and habit helped her get those words out as she pushed past Mark. Grabbing her coat from the hall closet, she ran out through the patio doors, her high heels clattering as she ran down the steps to the dock. A few more steps took her to the boat.

  ***

  Tossing the anchor aboard, she jumped in and turned the key, quickly putting distance between her and Mark who came pounding after her.

  She could hear him shout something at her, but refused to turn to look at him. Tears streaming down her face, she headed across the lake to her cabin.

  Let Dave or Ben give that traitor a ride home.

  Chapter 12

  Ignoring Mark’s shouts, Lacey sped across the lake, hoping he wouldn’t follow. She couldn’t remember seeing any other boats nearby, so maybe the Ronnings hadn’t gotten theirs out yet this spring.

  Lacey hugged her coat tightly about her as she huddled behind the wheel. Luckily Mark’s boat was very similar to the one her father had used, and which she had often piloted as a teenager.

  The weather had changed abruptly; the night had grown cool and the wind had come up, making waves that rocked and splashed against the boat. She hardly noticed. Clouds scudded across the sky, hiding the moon and warning of a shower to come.

  Wishing she had dressed for warmth instead of looks, Lacey shivered. She huddled down behind the windshield as she headed the boat across the water towards her cabin.

  Lacey was still feeling panic at the idea that someone had deliberately damaged her car, meaning to harm her. She shivered, remembering the slashed lingerie at her apartment in Minneapolis.

  She hadn’t told a lie to Mrs. Ronning, she did feel ill. The very idea that someone hated her enough to do these things made her stomach churn, and for a moment she wondered if she would lose the fancy meal she had just eaten.

  At the same time she was furious at the thought that the three men she trusted most in the world now, Mark, Ben and Dave, had all known about the sabotage and had chosen to keep it from her.

  One of them might even be involved in all this. Until she knew for sure, she wasn’t trusting any of them.

  She hardly noticed when the rain began streaming down her face mixing with the tears and ruining her makeup. She searched for her purse to find a tissue, and realized that in her haste to get away, she had left her purse behind in Mrs. Ronning’s bedroom. At least she had grabbed her coat from the hall closet, she thought, shivering again.

  She had never felt more alone and afraid than she did now. She huddled in the soft vinyl seat, gripping the wheel and watching the lights of her cabin grow larger as she neared shore.

  Lights? In her cabin? She hadn’t left them on, had she?

  More likely Mark had borrowed someone’s car and driven around the lake to beat her there. The nerve of the man. She had left on her own, but he couldn’t let her alone, could he? He had to keep running her life even when she made it clear that she didn’t want him to.

  Danger or not, she would make it plain that he could just leave. No way was he staying at her cabin “to protect her” again tonight. More tears streamed down as she berated herself for being taken in. What a fool she was.

  She found a roll of paper towels on the floor of the boat, and tore off a sheet to wipe her tears, heedless of how clean it was.

  Nearing her dock, she eased up on the throttle. The yard light reflecting on a blue Ford car in her driveway confirmed her guess that someone was waiting for her at the cabin. The car looked familiar; where had she seen it last? It wasn’t Dave or Ben’s. Perhaps Mark had borrowed Martha Ronning’s.

  Lacey expected to see Mark on shore, sassily waiting for her to dock, but there was no sign of him. Anger at his arrogance replaced the fear in her and made her lean forward as though she could physically hurry the boat to shore.

  As she watched, a heavy man came running from her cabin, and with a hasty look towards her in the darkness, got in the blue Ford and took off. She was too far away to make out the features of his face. She got just a vague impression as a wide face reflected in the yard light, but suddenly she was again afraid.

  It hadn’t been Mark, and he had run away as soon as he’d known someone was coming, probably heard the boat’s motor. Lacey’s heart began to pound, and she shivered from tension now rather than cold and rain. Her mother and the rest had all begged her to be careful, and what had she done but run headlong into trouble immediately upon leaving them? So much for insisting that she could take care of herself.

  At least the man was gone now, whoever it had been.

  Quickly docking the boat, she climbed out and ran to her cabin. The lights were still burning and the door stood ajar, its lock smashed.

  Scamp lay just outside the door, dead. She knelt to cradle his furry head, tears running down her cheeks. A hole in his body spoke of a bullet as means of his death. “Oh, poor Scamp. You tried to protect the cabin, didn’t you?”

  Obviously, it had been someone Scamp didn’t know or like, or the guy wouldn’t have needed to shoot him. Scamp was so friendly with anyone he knew. Fury raced through her. There was no excuse for killing her beloved pet. She had to get this guy.

  Lacey gently laid his head back down and cautiously looked inside her home.

  The cabin was a mess. Obviously he’d had plenty of time to search it well this time. She groaned at the mess, then picked up the telephone, on the off-chance it would still work. As she had expected, it was useless.

  There were no other cabins with telephones nearby except Mark’s that she was sure was locked. She had no way to call for help. Suddenly she wished desperately that her first theory that Mark had come after her had been correct. She wanted his safe, reassuring strong arms around her.

  She loved him, needed him, more than anyone she had ever known. She should have been running to him, not away from him.

  Well, it was too late now for ‘should haves.’ She must get help.

  Her car was in the driveway and Henry’s truck was in the garage; both were useless without keys. The only set of keys she had to either of them was in her purse back at Mrs. Ronning’s house. Should she take the boat back across the lake? What if it were low on gas? The idea of being stranded in the middle of the lake was even scarier than waiting alone for help to come to her.

  She took the stairs two at a time, and grabbed her pistol from the nightstand, happy that the burglar hadn’t taken it. Checking to see that it was loaded, she ran back downstairs and outside. Far away across the lake, she could hear the sound of music. People were still dancing on the patio. She groaned. They would never hear her over the music. She waited for the dance to end, her heart pounding impatiently, then fired three shots into the air in quick succession, waited a minute, and fired three more.

  She knew that sound carried well over water, but since tonight was windy and r
ainy, she couldn’t be sure that they would hear her signal.

  The Ronning house was too far away to be sure, but it seemed to her that there was more movement in the figures on the patio, then there seemed to be fewer of them. The music didn’t start up again, but she had no way of knowing whether the band was taking a break, the party was over or if they had heard her and were responding.

  The rain and wind made mournful sounds in the trees around her, and the movements of the branches under her yard light cast circles of shadows around her. It seemed to Lacey that her whole young life had been full of shadows, circling around her, throwing her into one painful situation after another.

  “This is no time to feel sorry for yourself,” she scolded aloud, needing to hear a human sound, even if it was only her own voice.

  On impulse, she grabbed a flashlight and ran down the wet path over to Mark’s cabin to try to get inside to a phone. His car stood in his driveway. She tried to open the door to check for keys. Locked.

  Cursing his cautious city ways, she moved quietly towards his cabin. Perhaps she could break a window and climb inside. That proved unnecessary; the door was open. Did that mean someone was still inside?

  She cautiously reached inside and felt for the light switch. Light streamed out the doorway, but there were no sounds of movement inside.

  After a moment, her gun raised, she stepped inside and looked about. His cabin was a bigger mess than hers. Drawers were emptied and Mark’s books and clothes were strewn about. She dropped her gun hand to her side and put the safety on. She picked up his phone, but like hers, it was dead. Once again, the burglar must have cut the wires.

  Beside the sofa an ashtray held Mark’s pipe, and a slim brown cigarette stub. She picked up his deerskin jacket, hugging it to her and stroking it, as though its familiar feel and scent could bring its owner close. As though it could bring back the safe, protected feeling she always had when he was beside her.

  Feeling like an intruder, she realized she had never been inside his cabin before. It was definitely masculine, done in tones of brown and gold.

  She knew he hadn’t been living there long, yet it already spoke of his personality. She saw his books, games, and a desk full of papers. He had probably brought some of his work here. Perhaps he even worked on his book here.