Blackwell 2 - Timeswept Rogue
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"Put me down!" she hissed. "I'm perfectly capable—" He
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kissed her into silence, til she went liquid 'and purring against him.
"I am well aware of your assets, love." He headed toward her chamber. "But if I were to see you bare again, the courier would definitely be left waiting."
"Is that so?" Lord. He looked in mortal agony.
"God's teeth, aye," he groaned, releasing her legs, her body sliding deltciously against his hard length afore her feet touched the carpet.
' 'You're saying you might think of me today?'' Flush against him, she ran her hand up the length of his thigh, sliding inward.
"Oh aye," came with feeling, his breath catching.
"Good." She straightened. He blinked. And she stripped off the sheet, giving him an unobstructed view of her naked body afore she pushed him back out the door and shut it in his face.
"Imp," he said, grinning at the sealed wood. He'd taken but two steps away when the door abruptly opened and she peeked around the jam.
"There's a connection to the trunk and that little chest Bailey gave you, isn't there?"
He recognized the challenge in her voice and 'twas a monumental effort to keep his features impassive. " 'Twas coincidence that we received the endowments together, Penelope. Even had we not met, Bailey would have arrived on your doorstep just the same."
She knew that, but .. . "Will you ever give me a straight answer?''
He lookedat the floor, then her. "This evening," he promised and knew he'd best be prepared for it.
The phone chimed as the receiver hit the cradle and Detective Pete Mathers tossed the pencil on his desk, then raked his fingers through his hair.
"Still won't give up any information, huh?"
Mathers glanced at his partner. "What the hell do you think?" he snapped. "O'Keefe doesn't exist according to my
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investigation, never did, and Lloyds of London won't break confidence as to how they know him."
Dave Downing whistled softly. "Sounds like an important client paying that bill. What about Scotland Yard?"
"Won't touch it either. They don't consider a man without a past their top priority."
"What's with you and this O'Keefe? He seems like a nice enough guy. And you have nothing on him. He hasn't committed any crime." Dave poured himself a cup of coffee and settled into the desk chair directly opposite.
"I can't figure him out. He doesn't have a job record, tax returns, nothing. He's like—well, it's like he doesn't belong here. I don't know if it's the way he carries himself or the way he talks—"
"You talk funny and we haven't thrown you in jail." Mathers glared at his partner and Dave grinned, then chomped into a jelly doughnut, silently admitting O'Keefe did speak like King Arthur.
"I should have locked him up."
"For what? Defending his woman? You can't blame the guy. You were a nasty son of a bitch to Miss Hamilton."
"They're keeping something," Mathers said, ignoring the censure and studying his reports. "Something big. Renfrew's connected to O'Keefe. I feel it."
"She's also dead."
"Lost at sea," Mathers corrected with a glance up.
"That's as dead as it gets, considering she was lunch for some shark.'' Dave cringed, not liking the image one bit. Helluva way to die.
"Consider that our source isn't known for his reliability," he reminded. "Just a bit squeamish." His tone implied that he didn't believe the story.
"Two sources. The Nassau Queen's ensign saw the shark drag her away, too, and when he notified the captain, she'd already vanished under water. Tess Renfrew hasn't turned up in the Bahamas or anywhere else, for that matter. And neither the U.S. Coast Guard off the Keys nor the Bahama Air Sea Rescue Association have found any remains." Dave paused
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for a bite, chewed and swallowed before continuing. "The judge will declare her dead, Pete, legally, as soon as the cruise line's investigators finish questioning the passengers. We don't have any reason to put all our effort into this case. No surviving relatives, no massive fortune to dole out. No motive," he stressed. "No connection. A suicide."
"Bullshit. A woman doesn't relax on a luxury liner, then decide to kill herself." Mathers steepled his fingers, staring blankly out the window. Dust motes marked the stream of sunlight splashing across his desk. "What pushed her to travel under Hamilton's name, use her credit cards, and leave that expensive Jaguar on the pier with keys in it?''
"Which was delivered back to her garage the next day," Dave reminded, then sighed. "Okay, say it wasn't suicide. You don't have a body, lack suspects, no mysterious drug fortune to make it interesting, and no jurisdiction. Renfrew disappeared off Caribbean shores. That's Bahama territory, and you know their pace. Slow and slower." Mathers's determined look made him press harder. "Hamilton's a recluse. Everyone knows it. Maybe she was trying to get away from the press and her friend helped. It's no big deal. They sure as hell don't look enough alike to fool anyone. Renfrew never claimed to be Penelope Hamilton and the credit slips say she only purchased essentials, not spend the woman into debt. And she had Hamilton's permission."
"I read the report too, you know."
"You're digging in an empty grave, Pete." There was a long pause before Dave said,' 'People do a lot of strange things to get close to that particular actress."
Mathers arched his brow. "Threaten to carve her up like a melon? Shoot her lover in plain sight of everyone?"
Dave shrugged, giving him that much.
"Renfrew didn't jump either. At least not willingly."
Dave's hand paused, the cup halfway to his lips. "You think someone pushed her?"
Mathers smiled, nodding. He was coming around. "It would explain why one of Phalon Rothmere's boys was on that cruise
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liner, close enough to see her jump, yet didn't alert anyone until she was carried away. It doesn't wash."
Dave whistled softly, his chair creaking as he leaned back. "That's a helluva accusation." His voice was barely a murmur, his gaze darting beyond the glass walls for eavesdroppers. Suddenly he Jeaned forward, arms braced on the desk. "You better have evidence carved like the commandments before you breathe a word of this to anyone.''
Mathers knew if he opened his mouth, it could cost him his job. "If you've got a better theory, pal, I'm open."
"His boy hasn't made bail yet." Dave grinned. "Want to borrow my rubber hose to test this theory?"
Mathers chuckled as the door opened and a young blond officer entered the office, shutting the door behind him.
"Give it to me quick and shit-can the fluff."
Dave frowned between the two men as the rookie flipped his pad and read aloud.
"Since Tanner dropped him off, he's been all over the city. Buying merchandise, paying with cash and having it delivered to the Hamilton estate. He was in the hall of records, archives, two museums, a library and checked out two modest apartments. Oh, and the newspaper morgue and a sport gun shop."
Mathers lifted his gaze to his partner, as if to say; nothing to this, huh?
"Did he talk to anyone?"
' 'No, sir, except the clerks and guides at each establishment."
Mathers toyed with his pencil. "Did he try to buy a gun?"
' 'No, sir, just looked them over. Like he was curious, nothing more. Didn't even ask to use the range in the sports mall." The cop examined his list. ' 'He purchased a dictionary, several books on military sea power, strategy, and war history, clothes, wallet, watch, calculator, pens, binoculars, sheet music, had a diamond appraised—"
"A diamond?" Mathers interrupted.
The rookie looked up, straight blond hair falling over his brow. "Yes, sir. A single pear-shaped, deep pink. About five carats and very rare. Appraised three separate times."
"How much was it worth?"
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"You wouldn't believe it, det
ective."
"Put it in the report," Pete muttered, waving in dismissal and the rookie left.
The instant the door closed Dave rounded on his partner. "I can't believe you put a tail on him! He's done nothing and you're wasting good manpower. God damn it, Pete, this is getting personal."
Mathers relaxed back into his chair. "A B & E and assault yesterday, and now O' Keefe, who was dragged out of the ocean days ago with nothing but his clothes, now has a diamond worth at least a half a mill. What do you figure I got, Dave?"
Dave told him. "Nothing. My gut says O'Keefe isn't that kind of guy. And Lloyds of London delivered a package to him yesterday. The diamond couid have been in it." Mather's stared back benignly and it incensed him. "Did you know he rescued a little girl the other day? Climbed nearly fifty feet up a tree. Didn't stop to think just—" Dan thumbed the air— ' 'less than a day after he was fished out of the water, clinically dead at the time. B.A.S.R.A. captain said he didn't even know who Miss Hamilton was. I figure either O'Keefe can't remember who he really is, or ,. ." Dave finished off the dregs of his coffee, forcing Mathers to wait. "He was stranded on one of those uninhabited islands for a very long time. Maybe made a boat and it sunk." Dave shrugged. "All I know is you're looking in the wrong backyard and unless you want that high powered, highly visible attorney shoving court restraining orders up your ass, I'd back off."
"All right, all right. I get the picture. Christ, you make O'Keefe sound like a fucking saint." Mathers admitted he hadn't considered those possibilities. He'd attended the same high school as Tess Renfrew, though no one in his department knew¥ and he vividly remembered the energetic gymnast. For the sake of a teenage crush he was going to find out why she took a dive off a moving luxury liner.
"You're just jealous," Dave said. " 'Cause O'Keefe's got the woman every man wants—at least once, and you'd give your left nut to trade places."
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"The right," he said, then reconsidered. "Nan." He shook his head. "Can't see waiting for the ice to thaw in that woman."
"You just don't have what it takes to—"
"Shut up, Dave," Mathers cut in harshly, his masculinity bruised enough. "Before I add ventilation to your forehead." He stood, arranging his reports and closing the file. "I'll leave O'Keefe alone, for now. But we still have to give the judge what he wants. Come on, grab your rubber hose." He slipped into his jacket, stuffing his gun in the shoulder holster. "Let's find out what Rothmere had to do with Tess Renfrew's death."
"If he had anything to do with it," Dave countered.
"What."
"If." His partner opened his mouth to speak and Dave put up a hand. "I give up."
"That's the idea."
"She singing?" Hank asked from behind Margaret, his ear tuned to the soft melody drifting from the back porch.
"Yeah, all day. He's under her skin," she said quietly as he reached around her to steal a bite of fruit.
"Like me to you, ain't it, honey?"
"Go on with you, old man." She playfully nudged him aside, then sighed as he pressed his lips to the back of her neck. She turned into his embrace and kissed him with the passion of a young girl, his weathered hands smoothing over her round hips and up her back.
"Got an hour til I'm to pick up Ramsey." Hank wiggled his busy brows and smiled.
She shoved a piece of pineapple into his mouth before he could kiss her again. "Randy old goat." *
"Uh-huh," he said around the food, giving her a hungry look that spoke volumes. He loved her and wondered when she'd ever let him tell Penelope about it.
Margaret recognized his expression. "No, we can't. Maybe soon though,'' she consoled when he scowled and stepped back. "Ramsey's in her life now and I don't want to desert her."
"You wouldn't have to," he replied. "Told you I'd agree
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to stayin' on, but I've loved you for years, Meg, and I want to marry you,"
Her heart dipped. He said it often and always with every ounce of emotion he possessed. "You know what I mean. Mister Wainright, me, you, we're all she's got now."
"Enough for some folk," he muttered sourly. "Look at Ramsey."
"Where is he, anyway?"
He made a face at the change of subject. "Hell, if I know. Dropped him off in the middle of town. Didn't want any company. Said he'd call." The singing stopped and the glass door slid open.
"Paper come yet?" Penny poked her head inside.
"No. Sorry dear." Margaret raised a brow at the girl's attire, the gold Tarzan style bikini revealing more than it hid. That wasn't like her. She usually wore a simple tank suit with more coverage and slipped on a wrap the minute she was out of the water. "I didn't hear you in the pool?" Margaret went to a closet off the kitchen and brought back a stack of brightly
printed towels.
Penny accepted the pile, yet didn't dry off. "Let me know when—" she hesitated—"when the paper arrives." She turned away, humming as she tossed the towels aside and dove into the pool.
Margaret smiled. "She hasn't swam in there since—"
"Since Tess was here last," Hank cut in. "She was the outdoorsy one." He frowned at Margaret. "Why didn't you tell her the paper came?"
Margaret glanced out the glass doors, then covertly pulled it out of the trash, handing it to him.
"Believe me, the longer we keep this from her, the happier we'll all be."
Hank turned his back to the glass door and unfolded the paper, shaking the damp coffee grounds into the sink. "Damn sakes, she's gonna have a fit!"
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Chapter 26
Coward.
Was Tess the only soul privileged enough to garner a space in your heart?
Did she go to her death because of a friendship she thought she had with you?
Harsh words to swallow. And they'd brought her before the trunk already twice today, and she'd gone so far as to remove three of the wax seals. Her bikini dripped water on the plush carpet of her bedroom as she fumbled with the beach towel, absently wrapping it around her waist, her stare on the mysterious box. The ribbon dangled from her fingertips, the key spinning, demanding she open the sea chest locked for over a hundred years. Rubbing her nose with the back of her wrist, she knelt and in quick motions, inserted the key, twisted and flipped the latch.
She held onto the sloping edge, hesitating. Then as if someone gave her a nudge, she quickly ran her thumbnail beneath the last wax seal, prying it off. With a deep breath she forced the lid upward a crack; the dankness of age immediately hit her nostrils, musty, dry.
Quit stalling and do it.
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She shoved back the top, its leather hinge-straps creaking ominously before it thumped open. She gripped the Up of the trunk, her lungs pumping.
Oh God.
On the top of the disjointed pile was Tess's gaudy neon yellow gym bag, water stained, yet still as bright as when she last saw it. Just over a week ago. She reached, her hand trembling as she grasped the satchel and brought it to her chest. Penny closed her eyes, fighting the hot rush of tears, the renewed slap of guilt. Oh God, bud, what did I do to you? How could Tess's property be in this trunk? It was physically impossible. It should have washed up on shore somewhere. Loosening her grip and willing herself to relax or they'd find her frozen like this tomorrow, Penny sniffled, setting the bag almost reverently aside. She stared down into the trunk.
It was not filled as she'd imagined, then considered she never envisioned anything quite so—normal; thin balsa boxes in various sizes tied with ribbon, a tapestry covered book. Nearly everything else was bound in discolored tissue or muslin. Cautiously, she lifted out the largest box, freeing the still bright ribbon and removing the lid. She inhaled sharply, gently shaking out the lavish gown.
Dark blue watered silk rustled across her lap, surprisingly crisp and vivid, the fitted boned bodice studded with seed pearls and tiny crystals. It was breathtaking, the style old
, just prior to the turn of the eighteenth century, if she hazard a guess; puffed sleeves narrowing to deep funnels at the elbow, a deep pointed waist tucking yards of billowy silk, the underskirting drawn with blue silk ribbon. The bottom of the box was filled with matching blue petticoats, delicate slippers, and a dainty little tulip shaped bag. Feminine decadence, Penny thought, shaking her head. And what purpose did it serve to store this for so many years?
Cautiously she folded it back into the box. That's when she saw the note hidden beneath the petticoats. Parchment? She tilted the thick yellowed paper toward the sunlight and her heart slammed against the wall of her chest.
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Amy J. Fetzer
Penn,
I've never had enough money to give anything really special and when I saw this fabric I immediately thought of you. Designed it myself, and I hope you'll give yourself the chance to wear it someday. Maybe to that premier gala next month?
Love, Tess,
Penelope's gaze darted between the trunk, the dress, the note, and around again.
' Tess,'' she whispered and her sanity slipped another notch, the paper crunching in her grip. She grabbed the tapestry bound book and flipped it open. Tess's writing! The author instructed her to make certain she was reading the first book. After rummaging the trunk she discovered several more books, each numbered sequentially—each addressing her.
/ can only imagine what you 're experiencing now, the confusion, grief and wonder. Don't grieve for me, Penn, please. I'm fine and I'll try to explain as clearly as possible, so sit back, bud, 'cause it 's a long story and tough to swallow. I'll start from when we last spoke. I left on the cruise liner and sailed to the Bahamas. I didn 't stay, knowing you 'd be waiting to hear from me and was on my way back when Rothmere's goons found me. I'd honestly thought I'd slipped past their Radar. Arrogant of me, huh? They were on the Nassau Queen, dressed like waiters and pointing a gun with a silencer—at me. Before they could pull the trigger, I jumped or rather a damn good ten point back flip, if you're keeping score. The ship's propellers pulled me toward the blades and I swear, Penn, I thought I'd bit the big one. I was drowning. God, what a helpless feeling. Then I saw a dark fin. I went ballistic, making my lungs fill faster, then suddenly I was yanked to the surface and carried away by a dolphin. The strap of my Kmart special was caught in his