Raspberry Crush

by Jill Winters

  "So this is, what... a harmless fling?" Billy said finally, trying not to show her anger, her embarrassment, her irrational frustration with Seth and his whole sick need to live in Seattle.

  Irritably, he replied, "I'm not sure what you want me to say. Aren't you dating someone else, anyway?"

  Suddenly Billy felt like a complete fool. So a fling was exactly what Seth thought this was. He thought that she was dating someone else, and he was perfectly fine with that! He didn't want a relationship with her again—even a long-distance one—but was perfectly content to fool around while he was here, and then blow out of town.

  No, she couldn't do it. Not again. As it was, she was already developing strong feelings for him, and knew how deeply she would miss him when he left. Pain cut through her heart, slashing that soft, vulnerable place inside that she'd begun to open up to him, whether he realized it or not.

  Abruptly she turned and gave him her back.

  "Billy—tell me. What is it you want me to say?"

  "Nothing. But I'm just trying to tell you that I don't think it's a good idea for us to keep... getting involved. I care about you, and I like spending time with you," she continued, fighting back tears that stung her eyes. "But I just want us to be friends from this point on."

  There. She'd said it. Too bad it was all a load of crap.

  She'd hoped he'd protest, but it didn't happen. "Fine," he said curtly, and climbed out of the shower.

  * * *

  Seth drove down Beacon Street wondering what the hell had just happened. After one of the best nights in his entire life, he'd sleepily climbed into the shower to relive some of it. And out of nowhere, Billy decided she wanted to be friends.

  Friends!

  Damn it all—if that wasn't the classic kiss-off. He'd asked her what was going on with the other guy because he'd thought—wrongly, he supposed—that she'd been fishing around about a future. But obviously if they were going to think about starting a relationship again, he'd need to know what the deal was with this mysterious other man in Billy's life.

  But as soon as he'd put her on the spot, she'd clammed up, wanting to drop the subject and just be friends. Fuck, he didn't want to be friends. True, after he'd dropped Billy off at work the day before, he'd done some thinking about what had happened between them. But what he'd realized was that he couldn't ask Billy to up and move across the country just for him, and he wasn't going to move back. It wasn't that the idea wasn't tempting—of course it was. He loved the East Coast; he loved that big old beautiful house he was going to sell.

  But his life and work were in Seattle. Still, he'd decided to remain open to the possibility of a long-distance relationship. He'd thought Billy might feel different about that option this time around. But it was pretty obvious she was still involved with that guy, Mark; otherwise she'd be able to answer a goddamn straightforward question about him.

  Oh, hell, why was he letting her get to him like this? He wouldn't deny he was having fun with her, but he was also getting way too sappy and sentimental. Thinking he was already in love with her... it had to be loneliness. Not that Billy wasn't lovable, but he was getting in too deep. And even when he tried to keep things light, she didn't seem to like that, either.

  It felt like he couldn't win with her. But he did still care about her. And he knew he couldn't bear it if anything happened to her. So that settled it then. They'd be friends.

  It was really the best thing for both of them.

  Chapter 23

  After spending most of the day in Churchill, working on the streetscape, Billy remembered to return Kip Belding's call. His phone rang half a time before he picked it up. "Hi, Kip, this is Billy Cabot."

  "Oh, I'm so excited you called! I have the peach pie of all positions for you."

  "Really?" she said, interested but skeptical.

  "How would you like to grow in a versatile, consumer-driven facility, with an ample benefits package to boot?"

  "Sounds interesting. Where is it?"

  "It's in Dorchester."

  A red flag went up. "What company?"

  "Well, it's a health-oriented conglomeration—"

  "Please tell me it's not Tuck Hospital again," she said, holding back a sigh.

  "Um..."

  "Look, Kip, I've told you that I don't want to work in a hospital. I'm looking for a more corporate environment." She couldn't believe she was actually saying that, especially after her blissful time away from the eight-to-five madness, but it was true. Corporate America was less scary than a hospital; she feared diseases, doctors, bugs, and private jets—end of story. What did Kip not understand about this?

  "Well, it's really not in the hospital," he snapped defensively. "You'd be adjacent to the main building, in a large, basementlike enclosure."

  Huh?

  Then it hit her. No, that couldn't be it.

  "Kip, you don't mean... the morgue, do you?"

  He heaved a deep, martyred sigh, but didn't deny the charge. Jesus! Zombies might not be one of Billy's fears, but that didn't make the morgue prospect any less creepy. "Kip, I'm sorry; I'm going to pass on that one. In fact, I'm going to pass on every single position that opens up at Tuck Hospital. You have my résumé; you know my skills. If something opens up that actually involves those skills, please give me a call."

  Seth's Acura pulled up outside the gallery just as Billy hung up her cell phone. "Hey," he said as she climbed into the car.

  "Hi," she said brightly, trying to start this new platonic thing off on the right foot. "How's your day going?"

  "Fine."

  "Anything new around the house?"

  "No."

  "Sounds good."

  They drove quietly to the Churchill Public Library. It was obvious that Seth was still peeved at her, and Billy could only assume it was because she'd put an end to the no-strings sex. But she knew he would get over it; the fact was, if Seth didn't want to be her friend, he wouldn't be here right now.

  Earlier Billy had made plans with Mark for the upcoming weekend. He'd thanked her profusely, showering her with praise, and told her she wouldn't regret giving him a second chance. She'd told him that she wanted to just take it slowly, and deep in the recesses of her mind, she prayed that she wouldn't regret it, either.

  When they entered the Churchill Public Library, Seth was hit with a sensation of déjà vu from when he was young. His father would take him there to listen to his mom, who used to run a story hour for the kids. Smiling nostalgically at that, Seth felt yet another pull back toward his old home.

  "Now do you have it all down?" Billy asked softly as they crossed the peach-colored carpet toward the circulation desk.

  "Yeah, of course," Seth said, referring to the plan they'd come up with last night, in bed, after some slow, steamy sex.

  "So I'm a writer, and you're my assistant—"

  "Wait, I thought I was the writer," he said, confused, as they approached the desk.

  "No, I'm supposed to be... right?"

  "Well, let's just both be writers."

  "Can I help you?"

  "Oh, yes, hi," Billy replied to the bored-looking teenager sitting behind the desk. "We're looking for Claudia Dibbs, the head librarian?"

  He nodded and called loudly over his shoulder, "Miss Dibbs! People here for you!" God forbid the kid actually got up to get her. Seconds later, a full-figured woman in her sixties emerged, with smooth caramel-colored hair pulled into a loose bun. She wore a conservative navy dress with a timid floral print, and a string of faux-pearls around her neck.

  "Can I help you?" she asked, looking first at Seth, then at Billy.

  Folding her hands on top of the desk, Billy reminded herself that bluffing was all attitude. "Yes, hello, my name is Billy Cabot. I'm a writer, and this is my assistant, Seth."

  Seth shot her a look out of the corner of his eye.

  "We're here researching a book on the local fishing industry," she continued in her best writer voice, whatever that meant. "I wondered
if we could talk to you. I promise I won't take much of your time."

  "But what could I possibly tell you about the local fishing trade?" Miss Dibbs asked, confused.

  "Um... well, I figured as head librarian, you'd be able to give me some important information, maybe some idea where I could begin looking, um... well, I figured with the prestigious role you have in this community, you know, your having an ear to the ground, so to speak, and just being more knowledgeable about this town than I'm sure most people are... I thought you'd be an invaluable person to talk to—that is, if you don't mind."

  "Oh, well... of course, I'd be happy to help," Miss Dibbs said, pressing a hand to her chest proudly and stepping out from behind the circulation desk. (Sometimes flattery really did get you everywhere.) She sat down at a nearby table.

  As soon as Billy joined her, Miss Dibbs said, "My throat's a little parched. Maybe your assistant could fetch us some water. There are Dixie cups by the water fountains."

  "Oh, good idea," Billy said, looking to Seth, who was glaring back. "Would you mind?"

  "Sure—no problem," he replied tightly, and turned to go find the nearest water fountain.

  "The fountain on the fifth floor is the coldest!" Miss Dibbs called to him. Seth nodded. "Oh and by the way, the elevator's broken," she added, then turned back to Billy. "Handsome assistant." It could've been an objective comment, or a veiled insinuation that "assistant" was code for "gigolo." Or was that just how Billy's mind was working at the moment? Did it simply reflect the constant sexualization of nearly everything now wherever Seth Lannigan was concerned?

  While he was fetching water, Billy eased into her questions about Ted Schneider by first asking Miss Dibbs a little about the history of the town, the tourist trade, and the popularity of seafood restaurants. Then she moved in for the 411. "Now, I know there was a fisherman who moved here recently and suffered an untimely end. Ted Schneider, I believe his name was. Did you know him?"

  Miss Dibbs drew her lips together tightly. "Why would I know him?" she asked evasively. She'd started to clam up now, Billy could tell, so she had no choice but to pull out the big guns. She reached into her bag and retrieved the library book they'd found on Ted's boat, and she slid it across the table.

  "It's from this library. I just thought if Ted Schneider was a patron here, you might've known him."

  Miss Dibbs took the book in her hands and clutched it to her chest. Breathing heavily through her nose, she shut her eyes with emotion and nodded. After a long, heavy silence, she spoke. "Yes. I knew him. I knew him well."

  Yes! Finally somebody knew the guy well. "Can you tell me about him?" Billy asked.

  With a sigh, she took a tissue out from inside her sleeve and dabbed the corners of her eyes. "He was a kind man. He had a gruff exterior, but when we were alone, he was sensitive—gentle." She paused, looking meaningfully at Billy, and said, "In case you haven't guessed, we knew each other in the biblical sense. We were having a clandestine affair, and I just don't want to hide it anymore."

  Billy nodded, coaxing her to continue, thinking, Jackpot!

  "Teddy was very giving and generous in his lovemaking. In fact, he was the most tender lover I've ever known, and I've known quite a few." Okay, that was so not going in a book about the local fishing trade.

  Trying to keep the flow going, without appearing too desperate for the info, Billy said, "That's lovely. How did you two meet?"

  Sniffling softly, Miss Dibbs explained, "Ted moved into town a few months ago. I think he planned to stay here for only a little while. Teddy was like that, always on the move. He had a nomadic spirit." She made it sound so freaking beautiful that "Teddy" made a habit of leaving. Tell that to Aunt Penelope. "We met early one morning when I was out walking on the beach. We hit it off; there was just this spark between us. In time, he opened up to me—told me how he couldn't stand all the snobby, rich people in Churchill. Well, don't quote me on that part. Teddy knew I had my money, but he didn't hold that against me. He was on the outside of this town; I was on the inside. It was so romantic—so tragic. Like Romeo and Juliet" Yeah, just like that, Billy thought, holding back an eye roll.

  "So you knew him well?" Billy fished.

  "I don't know how well you can know a man like Ted. He was somewhat of an enigma, but I still loved him so much. It's hard to explain."

  "Well, what did you know about him? I mean, did he ever talk about his background?"

  Miss Dibbs shrugged haplessly. "He traveled a lot, most of his adult life; he moved around. He was married once. Apparently it didn't last long. He didn't talk about her much, but I got the impression she was one of those really cloying domestic types with no life or ideas of her own. One of those women who baked all the time for him and basically just smothered him to death. A man like Ted can't be smothered or his spirit will be stifled."

  Billy resisted the sudden urge to gag as Miss Dibbs continued, sounding bitter, "We had plans. We were in love; we even talked about selling the stocks my husband left me and moving somewhere far away. But all those dreams died with Teddy."

  A red flag went up. The idea of Miss Dibbs selling her stocks for Ted wasn't sitting well with Billy. She asked, "Why did Ted want to move? Just to get away from all the rich people here or...?"

  "No—well, maybe I shouldn't say anything," Miss Dibbs said, but then shook her head. "Oh, what difference could it possibly make now?"

  "What is it, Miss Dibbs?" Billy pressed.

  "Claudia, please," she said. After a wistful sigh, she continued, "Someone was after him." Billy's heart rate shot up, and her palms prickled. Now they were getting to it. "I don't know who. All Ted said was that it was someone from his past. He needed to get away, and of course I would've done anything to be with him and to help him. I pleaded with him to tell me what was going on, but he said he couldn't bear to involve me, and I figured he would tell me everything when he was ready."

  Déjà vu settled on Billy like a thick, gauzy cloud; confusion and doubt sat heavily on her chest. Why did this sound so much like what Aunt Pen had told her? Ted had needed money, Ted had needed to get away from a mysterious person from his past, but Ted hadn't wanted to talk about it. It was the same thing, except Ted had left Pen before he'd agreed to take any money from her, whereas Claudia Dibbs was all set to sell her stocks.

  Billy wanted to believe that Ted's Dear John letter to Aunt Pen had been legitimate, but suspicion niggled in her mind. Considering what Joe had told her—that Ted had left his first wife after taking a payoff from her family—and considering that Ted had hit up both Pen and Claudia for money, Billy had to wonder if he had been just a con man. A grifter, pure and simple. Was Ted in the practice of romancing lonely women and scamming them out of their money? And if so, did that mean that no one from his past had ever really been after him? Was that all just part of the con so that Ted could later extricate himself from the relationship?

  No, but that didn't make complete sense, either, because even if he was a bullshit artist, Billy still believed his death was murder. There wasn't a doubt in her mind. God, her head was spinning!

  "Puss in Boots," Claudia said now with a humorless laugh, looking down at the book in her hands. "It was a little joke between us."

  When she failed to elaborate, Billy said, "Guess you had to be there—but anyway, getting back to Ted's death—"

  "Dear God, what a tragic accident!" Claudia said, pressing a soggy tissue to her breast. "I couldn't believe it when I heard. Teddy always made a point to ask about nuts whenever we went out to eat. Granted, he never bothered to carry around his EpiPen, so I always brought Benadryl with us in case, but still, it wasn't like Teddy at all to be so careless with his allergy. He knew it could be fatal."

  Inhaling a ragged breath of emotion, she added, "Why would he do that when he had me? We had smoldering passion. He was my Teddy Bear and I was his Pussy Cat."

  O-kay.

  "Claudia, this might sound crazy, but have you considered the possibility that Ted's d
eath was something more than an accident?" Billy asked tentatively.

  "What do you mean?" she said, scrunching the folds of her face in confusion.

  "You mentioned that someone from Ted's past was after him—at least according to him, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, is it possible that the person finally caught up with him? That whomever it was killed him at the jubilee by slipping him something to eat that would trigger a fatal allergic reaction?"

  Claudia looked stunned. "But who would know Ted well enough to know how severe his allergy really was?"

  Excellent question.

  Just then Seth returned with the water. "There were no cups," he explained, faintly winded from all the stairs. "I had to wait for the custodian to bring some up from the supply room."

  "Oh, great, thanks," Billy said to her assistant. "Um, good work." Seth smirked at her, and Billy turned back to Claudia. "Just one more question. On the night Ted died, did you see anyone hanging around him at the jubilee? Did he mention exchanging words with anyone?"

  "I wish I could tell you," she replied, "but I wasn't at the jubilee. I had to work that night. Even though this place was practically deserted. There was just some old man asleep in a chair, and a girl using the computers." Sniffing, Miss Dibbs added bitterly, "If I hadn't had to work that night, I could've been with Teddy when he got poisoned. He could've died in my arms. Just like Romeo and Juliet."

  * * *

  "Now, what do you take away from that?" Billy asked Seth after recapping her interview with Claudia Dibbs.

  "More than I ever wanted to know about Ted's competency in the sack?" he said dryly.

  "True," Billy replied with a giggle. (She could tell Seth was getting out of his funk and she was relieved.) They'd left the library ten minutes ago, and now were walking toward the town square.

  "By the way, I thought we were both supposed to be writers," he said. "When did I become your research assistant-slash—water boy?"

  "Oh, sorry, I just got lost in the role, I guess," Billy apologized, looking sweetly sorry as a glint of amusement danced in her pale blue eyes.