“And I missed being here.” Carolyn sighed. “Sit. Please. I’ll make us some tea.”
While the water came to a boil, Carolyn and Marla filled Mrs. Owens in on the events of the last couple of days. When the teakettle whistled, Carolyn poured hot water over the teabags and covered the teapot with a cozy so the bags could steep for a few minutes.
“So, you’re no closer to finding the person who killed poor Mr. Burke and left you in this mess.” Mrs. Owens leaned back and accepted the chocolate mint tea that Carolyn offered.
“We have ruled out one suspect,” Marla said.
“Marla has ruled him out,” Carolyn added. “As far as I’m concerned he’s still, as the police say, a person of interest.”
“Humph.” Marla rolled her eyes, “May I remind you that he’s the one who found me and called 9-1-1.”
“You’re letting his cuteness blind you.”
“I am not.” She insisted. “He felt terrible about coming at you in the hospital. And I think he was relieved when I told him you were innocent.”
Carolyn took a sip of her comforting tea. “I think the Taser affected your brain. Put your police hat on, Marla. You stayed at the Burkes after I left. He knew the police weren’t looking at me as a suspect anymore. And he knew the police would be taking a closer look at him. He could easily have followed you and attacked you, shut you in the trunk and then pretend he’d found you.”
She frowned. “Why would he do that?”
Carolyn shrugged. “Maybe to get you out of the way so he could get to me?”
“She does have a point.” Mrs. Owens said. “From what I understand he has quite a temper.”
“How do you know that?” Marla asked.
“Newspapers. He’s been popular with the press—even before his father’s death.”
“Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.” Marla paused to check her phone. “It’s Michael.”
Carolyn’s heart ratcheted into high gear. She hated that hearing his name could evoke such a strong reaction.
“Hi,” Marla answered and looked away. “Um. Yes, I’m fine. She’s here and I’m staying with her. Mrs. Owens is here too.”
Carolyn could hear his voice, but couldn’t tell what he was saying.
After a few seconds, Marla said, “You don’t need to come over.”
Carolyn reached for the phone. “Michael, please don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine here. You need to rest.”
“I need to find this guy before he strikes again.”
“I thought Doug was on the case.”
“He is, but…” He paused. “Okay, I’m done. We can’t keep you in custody and you’re free to do whatever you like. Let me talk to Marla again.” His tone was dismissive.
After listening for a minute, Marla nodded. “I will. I have you and Doug on speed dial.”
She turned off the phone and put it in her pocket. “He’s worried about you. He says he tried to call you but his calls went straight to voice mail.”
She pulled out her phone and turned it on. Nothing. “It’s dead. I forgot the charger at Michael’s house.”
Marla dug through her purse and came up with a cord. “Try mine.”
Carolyn shook her head as she looked at the connector. “Not a match.”
“I’ll go get mine.” Mrs. Owens pushed herself out of the chair. “Just take me a minute.” She left through the connecting door and returned with a charger. Surprisingly it worked. Carolyn plugged the cord into an outlet and settled the phone on the kitchen counter.
“I’m so glad,” Mrs. Owens said. “It’s insane that nearly every cell phone has a different charger.”
They spent the next few minutes finishing their tea and discussing the downside of electronics. They also talked about the break in. Mrs. Owens said her nephew would be over the next day with new locks. “In the meantime,” she said. “shove something heavy in front of the door.” At eight Mrs. Owens ducked out saying she was tired from the drive down.
Marla stretched out on the sofa. “Let’s watch a movie.”
Carolyn smiled and began to relax. It felt good to have her friend over—almost normal.
“Good idea. Hallmark has some new mysteries.”
“You want to watch a mystery? Now?”
“Sure. There’s a fun series about a baker who fancies herself as an amateur detective. A little mystery, a little romance. It’ll take our minds off the case.”
“Or raise my blood pressure even more.” In the end Carolyn relented. The cozy mysteries were nothing like what she’d experienced these past few days. They settled down with bowls of popcorn and pistachio nut ice cream, Carolyn’s favorite.
The movie didn’t make her more anxious about her own drama. Instead it reminded her of Michael and her feelings for him. For some reason, she was far too sensitive to the struggles of the heroine as she tried to find the killer while balancing her growing feelings for the detective in the story.
When the movie ended, Carolyn turned toward her friend who’d fallen asleep about half way through. She clicked off the TV set and began gathering up the cups and dishes. Though she liked having a clean kitchen when she got up in the morning, she piled the dishes into the sink. They could wait until tomorrow. She thought briefly of painting, but weariness had her dragging. She pulled an extra blanket out of her closet and covered Marla with it then headed for bed.
As exhausted as she felt, sleep should have been instant. Instead she lay there for a long time. For a moment she let herself imagine being with Michael, feeling his strong arms around her. His lips moving over hers.
Stop. She ordered her heart and mind to end their romantic fantasies. “Get a grip,” she whispered. They might be attracted to one another, but it couldn’t go any farther. She tried to focus instead on the case itself. Who would want Mr. Burke and her dead? She still felt the answer lay in something that had happened at the gala fundraiser. Once more she let the images of the event drift through her mind. She’d come in, wearing her pre-owned but beautiful dress. Brian and she had talked like old friends. He’d shown no signs of antagonism there. And Emily had been nothing but kind to the artist her husband had taken under his wing. Had all that nicety been pretense? Had Emily been jealous? Could she have drugged Carolyn? No. Emily Burke was not the killer. She’d adored her husband. Brian however was another matter.
Marla thought him innocent, but Carolyn’s encounters had been nothing but hostile. And then there was Burke’s opponent. He’d been quick to get into the fray, wanting justice for his friend’s murder, calling her an opportunistic bimbo. A murderer.
Carolyn shuddered. How likely was it that Trenton had come back to the hotel and killed Burke or had him killed? Politicians were always at each other. Sometimes the battles were hot and heavy, but they didn’t kill each other. And what possible reason would Trenton have to go after Carolyn?
She again tried to think about people who didn’t belong. The protester came to mind. Greta Conners. She’d been escorted out of the fundraiser by security guards. Could she have killed Mr. Burke? She could have, but again, protesters could be adamant, but not murderous. Yes, she’d known Greta years ago and they hadn’t been friends, but they hadn’t been enemies either. In fact, Carolyn admired Greta’s grit and her dedication to her causes. Most of the time she agreed with the protesters. Greta couldn’t have been the one who slipped her the drug. That had happened during or right after dinner. Brian had been the one sitting closest to her. It had to have been him or one of the wait staff. She tried to picture the people who had waited on them. Nothing. No one stood out. She was afraid that what happened that night would be lost to her forever.
Sleep finally came, but so did morning. She awoke to find Marla, fully dressed, making coffee. “Hey, sleepyhead.” Marla said a little too cheerfully. “Are you ready to rise and shine?”
Carolyn dropped back onto her pillow. “What time is it and why are you so chipper this morning?”
“It�
�s eight. I need to go to the station to give my report on the incident yesterday and catch up on paperwork. You can hang around here.” She glanced over at the studio side of the apartment. “I imagine you’ll want to get to work.”
“Thanks.” Carolyn accepted the coffee Marla brought over. “I would love to get my studio cleaned up and get started on the portrait I’m doing for Emily.”
Marla sobered. “I’m so sorry about your paintings being ruined.”
Carolyn sighed. “Me too. But at least Katherine is okay. They may have trashed my paintings, but they can’t keep me from doing what I was created to do. I have some blank canvases and extra paints in my storage locker outside and they didn’t ruin everything.
“Good for you.” She grinned. “You go girl. And speaking of going, I’d better move it.” She poured coffee into a travel mug and headed for the door. “Stay safe.”
Carolyn got up and followed Marla to the door. “Do you need to borrow my car?”
“Oh, no. Thanks. Brian is picking me up.”
She opened the door and hustled out to the waiting silver gray BMW. Brian smiled and waved at her, then caught sight of Carolyn. His smile slipped and for a minute Carolyn thought he wanted to say something. Instead he turned to watch Marla and once she’d climbed in, he revved his engine and took off down the alley. Carolyn backed into the house, double locked the door and pushed the heaviest of her chairs in front of it. How could Marla be so trusting of him? Was Brian playing her? She’d never seemed the gullible type, but then again, Brian could be very charming.
Carolyn went inside and called Michael.
Chapter Thirteen
Michael didn’t answer so Carolyn left a message on his voicemail. She then set to work cleaning up her apartment. Mrs. Owens had gathered the broken and slashed canvases into the corner. Tears gathered as she inventoried the damage. She stooped to pick up a torn photo of Adam Burke. He’d given it to her the day after he’d commissioned her to do his portrait. She’d have to tape it back together. Memories of waking up and seeing him lying dead and bloody on the carpet tormented her.
She set the pieces of his photo on the stool she sometimes used to sit on when she had long painting sessions. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said. Who would hate him enough to kill him and then slash his portrait. And even go so far as to tear up the photo he’d given her. Whoever it was hated her as well. With the exception of his liking her artwork, there was no connection between Adam Burke and Carolyn Hudson.
She thought again of Brian and how angry he’d been at her. Blaming her for his father’s death. Who else would even care about Mr. Burke’s relationship with her.
She frowned as she examined the destroyed painting. “Adam Burke,” she said aloud. “Why did you pick me? Yeah, I’m good but not over the top great.” What had he seen in her work? He’d singled her out at the gallery that night several weeks ago and commissioned her to do a painting of him as a gift for his wife.
Carolyn set the broken canvas with the others. Why would anyone care that he’d bought a painting from her and commissioned another.
A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie and sent her senses reeling. She peeked through the security hole. Not knowing whether to be relieved or annoyed, she yanked open the door. “What are you doing here?”
Michael grinned, disarming her with the swiftness of a speeding bullet. “Nice to see you too.”
His crutches dropped as he reached out and pulled her to him. His kiss obliterated any objections that might have been forming. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. His embrace felt right, his kisses perfect. Carolyn wanted this moment of bliss to go on forever. Reality dug in to her mushy brain and took hold. She placed her hands in his chest and pushed him back.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Hush.” He touched her lips with his finger. “There are a hundred or more reasons I shouldn’t have done that. All of which elude me at the moment.”
She nodded. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“And yet I am.” He released her and reached down for his crutches.
‘Be careful. You’ll fall.” Carolyn picked them up before he could.
“Thanks.” He nodded toward the chairs. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
He ignored her and headed for the living area. “Cute place you have here.” He sank onto the chair and set the crutches aside.
“Why are you here?”
“I missed you.” His lips turned up in a half smile. “I’d like to say police business, but I can’t. I’ve officially been taken off the case and as soon as the doctor releases me I’ll go to desk duty until my leg heals.”
“And you’re happy about that?”
“Delighted.” He grimaced. “I’m trying to be realistic. Being upset isn’t the best way to handle problems. My Bible study this morning reminded me that I need let go of my anxieties and frustrations. Doug’s a good cop and I trust the people I work with. My job right now is to take care of this leg and not reinjure it.” He smiled up at Carolyn. “And keep an eye on you.”
“But you said you weren’t working the case.”
“I’m not.”
The look in his eyes sent her heart to fluttering again. She glanced away. “Um… would you like some coffee.”
“I would.” He propped his leg up on the hassock and looked as though he’d be staying for a while.
She busied herself with pulling down a cup and filling it with the dark brew. As she handed it to him their hands touched. A thrill traveled up her arm and it was all she could do to hold onto the cup until it had been safely delivered.
“Thank you.”
The twinkle in his eyes unnerved her. She busied herself by refreshing her own cup. Carolyn braced herself before sitting down. “You’re not on the case, so why are you here?”
“I can’t seem to stay away from you, Ms. Hudson. You are all I think about day and night. Your safety is my first priority and if you won’t stay at my place, I’m going to insist on staying here.”
“That’s not going to work. I need to be alone when I paint. I don’t need a babysitter and you’re in no condition to act as my bodyguard. And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a guest room.”
“Which is why Mrs. Owens has graciously invited me to stay in her guestroom.”
“What?” Carolyn gasped.
“I called her last night and moved my stuff in. I get that you need your space. In case you’ve forgotten, there is a ruthless killer out there who has targeted you. Staying here will give me quick access to your place should anything happen.”
Carolyn didn’t want him close. At the same time, she wanted him closer. She wanted him in her space and even in her bed. Nope! No. She banished the thought from her head. She’d hadn't known him long. It was too soon for thoughts like that. Okay, she had known him for a month if she counted the initial meeting at the single’s group at church. Yikes. Still too soon.
“You should have talked to me first.”
“I’m falling in love with you.” He set his half empty cup on the end table.
Carolyn gasped. She had not expected that. “You—you can’t be. It’s so not the right time or place.”
“When the heart makes a move, you can’t really do anything but follow.” He smiled.
“My dad used to say that. I always thought it was a bunch of nonsense until you came along.”
“No, no. You can’t talk like that. I’m a suspect in a murder investigation, remember? You need to keep your distance.”
“It’s too late. I fell for you that night at the Bible study. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t real. And when I saw you in that hotel room. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I couldn’t believe it was you. I couldn’t reconcile what I was seeing with the sweet, innocent girl I’d met at the church. Talk about a shock to the system. And then when we were able to clear you, I tried to keep my distance, but it hasn’t been easy to do.
”
“You’ve been shot and you’re on pain pills. You aren’t thinking straight.”
He sighed. “I kept telling myself that too, but last night when I woke up and found your note, I realized how much I care about you.”
Carolyn closed her eyes and felt a tear slip past her eyelids. Then another. She could handle Michael’s anger, retaliate with anger of her own, but this, new, revised version, this kind and gentle man she’d come to love overwhelmed her. She found it hard to breathe.
“Come here.” Michael touched her cheek, brushing away the moisture. Setting her coffee to the side, he pulled her forward until she was sitting next to him.
The wall she’d been striving for crumbled. She couldn’t stop crying. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” He held her stroking her hair and back and providing the front of his shirt as a tear catcher. “You deserve a good cry. With all that’s happened to you, I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.”
“Oh, Michael. I love you too.”
They sat on her couch for a long time. Michael, more patient than she thought it possible for him to be, continued to hold her. “You okay?” he asked finally.
Carolyn nodded. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Unfortunately, it isn’t over.”
Sighing heavily, Carolyn rose from the sofa and headed for the kitchen. She grabbed a box of tissues along the way. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “Listen, I need to run some errands. Will you be okay for a while?”
“Of course.” She glanced around the room. “I need to finish cleaning this place up and then I want to get back to my painting. I’ll need to work overtime to get Emily’s portrait of Adam done and get my paintings back into the gallery.” She wiped away the remains of tears and blew her nose. “In fact, it would be better if you stayed away for a while. I need to process what just happened here.” She needed to pull herself together and take a step back. Her resolve not to get involved with Michael had been demolished in a landslide of emotions. She needed time to pick up the pieces and determine her next move.
Deadly Deception (An Artisan Mystery Book 1) Page 11
