“Humph.” Thelma surveyed Maddie’s figure. “You’re built like a goddess and you know it.”
Maddie grinned. Thelma was always good for her ego, just like a mother should be. Everyone else’s mother except her own. Nadine tended to notice whenever Maddie gained a pound and never missed an opportunity to tell her.
“How’s Dylan?” Thelma asked.
“He’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. I’ve kind of been expecting to see him here for breakfast one morning.”
Maddie’s mouth dropped open. “Ah, I see. You actually baked these cinnamon rolls for Dylan.”
Thelma shrugged. “Well, you two have been more or less attached at the hip since he came back to town, and you’ve been gallivanting all over the place with him since the judge’s funeral. I figured that sooner or later he’d spend the night here.”
“I don’t usually hop into bed with a man after seeing him for only two weeks.” Maddie lifted her mug and sipped the coffee, then reached over and pinched off a bite from one of the hot rolls.
“You don’t usually hop into bed with a man after seeing him for two years,” Thelma countered. “But Dylan Bridges is different. He’s not like all the other men who’ve paraded in and out of your life.”
“Yes, he is different. Dylan and I are friends.”
“Friends and lovers.”
Maddie huffed. “We are not lovers.”
“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. You’re falling in love with that man and there’s no need for you to deny it.”
“I’m not. I—I like Dylan a lot, but I don’t intend to let myself fall in love with him. He and I agree that we’re both lousy at relationships. But we need each other right now. As friends.”
“Just be sure that when y’all finally get around to making love, that you use the proper protection.” Thelma separated one of the rolls from the others, placed it on a small plate and set it in front of Maddie, then handed her a fork. “You could wind up pregnant and unmarried. That’s probably what happened to little baby Lena’s mama.”
“My goodness, Thelma, I’m thirty-three, not sixteen. I do know how to prevent pregnancy and protect myself from disease.”
“Speaking of little Lena—”
“Ah-ha!” Maddie pointed her fork at Thelma. “You’re dying to tell me some bit of juicy gossip you’ve collected from that grapevine of busybody housekeepers and maids that seems to have more news than the Clarion.”
“We have inquiring minds and we’re all interested in our fellow man, which is our Christian duty.”
Maddie grinned, then sliced off a piece of gooey roll and lifted it to her mouth. Gossip was to Thelma what breathing was to other humans; without it, she’d die.
“Do you or do you not want to hear the news?”
Chewing and enjoying, Maddie nodded.
“Well, the private eye that the golf foursome who found Baby Lena hired—I think his name is Aston—found out from the blood tests that little Lena has something called thalassemia.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Maddie ate another bite of cinnamon roll.
“In case you don’t know, it’s some funny type of anemia that’s common to people of Mediterranean descent. And that means either the child’s mama or daddy is Mediterranean. Maybe Italian. What do you think about that?”
“I think it’s very interesting.”
“If Lena belongs to one of those Mercados or that Del Brio man or some of that bunch, then she’s better off staying with Flynt and Josie Carson for the rest of her life.” Thelma poured herself a mug of coffee and sat across from Maddie. “And if Dylan keeps sniffing around the wrong Italians, trying to find out if Carl Bridges’ murder was mob related, then he could wind up in big trouble—or maybe dead like the judge.”
“How did you know that Dylan has been—Forget I asked. Of course you’d know. I’m surprised that the police haven’t come to you for help, considering your network of domestic spies.”
Thelma laughed, a boisterous cackle that projected loudly through the condo. “I was going to share some more news, but since you’re being so snippy, I just might not tell you.”
Maddie gazed pleadingly across the table at Thelma. “I wasn’t being snippy. I was paying you a compliment.”
“A backhanded compliment if I ever heard one.”
“Ah, come on, Thelma, give. You don’t want me to be the last to know the latest gossip, do you?”
“Well, I suppose not.” Thelma sipped her coffee, eyed Maddie over the rim of the mug, then sighed dramatically and said, “Another of the prime daddy candidates has been eliminated by the DNA tests.”
“Which one?”
“Dr. Michael O’Day,” Thelma said. “But I hear they’re doing more testing before they officially eliminate Tyler Murdoch. Personally, I don’t think he’s the daddy either.”
“Are you by any chance taking odds on who the father is?”
“It’s just speculation, but rumor has it that the other prime candidates are wondering if maybe Luke Callaghan is the proud papa. And you know that nobody’s seen hide nor hair of Luke lately.”
“Gee, Thelma, I’m glad that Dylan and I only have a murder mystery to solve and not a paternity puzzle to figure out.”
“Could be there’s a connection between the two.” Thelma lifted her brows and widened her eyes in a what-do-you-think-of-that gesture.
“You’re the second person who’s suggested that the judge’s death might somehow be linked to Baby Lena.” Maddie leaned forward and looked directly at her housekeeper. “What could the connection possibly be?”
“That I don’t know.” Thelma finished off her coffee, scooted back her chair and stood. “Might not be any connection. But then again, who knows?”
Maddie opened her mouth to reply, but before she got out the first word, the phone rang.
Thelma hopped up and lifted the receiver from the wall base. “Ms. Delarue’s residence.” Pause. “Yeah, sure thing. She’s here.” Thelma held out the receiver. “It’s Dylan.”
Maddie jumped up out of the chair, licked the tips of her fingers, then grabbed the phone. When Thelma grinned at Maddie, she made a face at her housekeeper.
“Hello,” Maddie said.
“Hi, Red. Any chance you can take off from work around lunchtime and give me a couple of hours?”
“Sure. I can manage a long lunch break today.” Actually, she couldn’t, not with all the work she’d pushed aside in the past week. But if Dylan needed her, wanted her, she was not going to let him down. Once again, she’d ask Alicia to take over. Maddie had made a mental note to give Alicia a bonus from her private account. “So, what’s up?”
“I spoke to Dad’s attorney, Dennis Barber, and set up a meeting today to go over the will.”
“You want me to go with you,” she said. “I can meet you there at—”
“No, let me pick you up, then afterward we can eat a late lunch together. How does that sound?”
“Sounds great.” She knew that Dylan had been putting off Dennis Barber’s request for them to move forward and have the judge’s will probated. He’d told her that he wasn’t quite ready to face that task. She understood. Even with billions of dollars in Jock Delarue’s estate, she’d found it difficult to listen to her father’s last will and testament. Reading the will had made her father’s death seem more final.
“Pick you up at one,” Dylan said. “And Maddie…thanks.”
The minute Maddie returned the receiver to the wall base, Thelma grinned at her. “Having a long, private lunch with Dylan today, are we?”
“Don’t press your luck with me,” Maddie joked. “You could be replaced, you know.”
Thelma laughed. “Not much chance of that. I’m irreplaceable and we both know it.”
Maddie rolled her eyes heavenward. “For your information, I’m going with Dylan to Dennis Barber’s office to discuss Judge Bridges’ will.”
“That could be good and bad for Dylan.”
“What do you mean? How could it be bad for him?”
“I’d say the judge left Dylan everything and that would be good from one standpoint. But with Dylan being the only beneficiary, that means he’d have a motive for murder.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Who’d believe Dylan would kill his father for money? Dylan has millions and I doubt Judge Bridges did.”
“Dylan’s worth millions, huh?” Thelma grinned. “I’d heard he was filthy rich, but now I know for sure.”
“Very clever. You wormed that information out of me as easy as that.” Maddie snapped her fingers.
“I didn’t worm anything out of you, missy. Is it my fault that in defending Dylan you just happened to mention how rich he is?”
“The point I was making is that even if Carl Bridges left Dylan everything, the police can’t possibly see that as a motive.”
“I agree. But mark my word, rumors will fly once the judge’s will is probated.” When Maddie frowned, Thelma said, “There’s nothing you can do about it, so stop worrying. People are going to talk. Best thing Dylan can do is ignore them.”
“I hope he doesn’t hear any more whispered innuendoes. He’s having a difficult enough time dealing with his father’s murder without having to endure people’s ridiculous speculations.”
“So, you aren’t falling in love with Dylan Bridges, huh? Just listen to yourself, Maddie. You’re fighting mad and ready to whip the world to protect that man. I’d say, whether you like it or not, you’re a goner.”
After Dennis Barber read Carl Bridges’ will, Dylan sat quietly in the lawyer’s office, his solemn gaze riveted to the floor. Dennis cleared his throat. Dylan ignored him. Maddie wanted to tell Dennis not to push Dylan, to give him time to absorb the news that his father had indeed left his entire estate to him. The judge’s net worth had been a little more than Maddie imagined it would be, but well within the norm for a successful circuit judge who had made some wise investments.
“Do you have any questions?” Dennis asked.
Dylan glanced at the lawyer and shook his head.
“Well, then—” Dennis lifted a set of keys from his desk drawer and held them out to Dylan “—here’s the keys to your father’s safety deposit box at the bank. I’ve already notified them over at First Federal that I’m turning over the contents of Carl’s box to you, as per instructions in his will.”
Dylan rose to his feet, reached out and accepted the keys. “You were Dad’s co-signer on the box, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Have you taken a look inside the box since Dad’s death?”
“I’ve never looked inside the judge’s safety deposit box,” Dennis replied. “I was co-signer for one reason only—so that I could turn the contents over to you.”
“Haven’t the police asked about the contents?” Dylan asked.
“They did and I told them that to my knowledge, other than CDs and other such documents, the only thing in the box was another copy of Carl’s will and…some personal mementos that had belonged to your mother. Her wedding band and engagement ring and some photographs of her.”
Maddie noted the tension in Dylan. The clenched jaw. The tight lips. The unfocused gaze. It was all she could do to keep herself from putting her arm around him.
“Detective O’Brien did request that when you opened the safety deposit box, if you found anything—”
“Undoubtedly the police don’t think there’ll be anything of significance inside,” Dylan said. “Otherwise, they’d have gotten a court order to take a look at the contents.”
“I agree.” Dennis held out his hand to Dylan. “I’ll give you a call soon. And in the meantime, if there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Dylan shook the lawyer’s hand. “Thanks.” He glanced at Maddie, then nodded toward the door.
Placing his hand at her elbow, he guided her from the office, down the corridor and to the elevator. With several other occupants already inside, neither Dylan nor Maddie spoke on the elevator’s descent to the lobby. But once they were outside and in Dylan’s Porsche, Maddie thought surely he would say something. He didn’t. Instead he sat there behind the wheel, his eyes glazed as he stared off into nothingness.
Unable to endure his silence a moment longer, Maddie spoke his name. “Dylan?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, honey. Just putting off doing what I need to do.”
He glanced at her then and she thought her heart would break. Maybe no one else could have seen past that weak smile and the false bravado of the hard-as-nails, unemotional male, but Maddie could. Dylan dreaded going through the judge’s safety deposit box and having to look at the personal items Dennis Barber had mentioned. Pictures of Leda Bridges, the mother he’d lost at twelve. And the engagement ring and wedding band his father had placed on his beloved’s finger.
“I’ll be there with you,” she told him. “If you’d like, I can go through the box for you and—”
Instantly he reached over and caressed her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “You’re a born caretaker, aren’t you, sweet Maddie? And you seem to know me so well.”
“Like I’ve said before, I believe you and I are two of a kind. It’s not that difficult to figure out what you’re feeling when it’s often exactly what I’d be feeling, if I were you.”
“I can handle going through the box,” he told her. “But I won’t mind having company while I’m doing it.”
Fifteen minutes later, they stood side-by-side at the bank, the contents of the judge’s safety deposit box emptied onto a table in a private nook within the large vault.
“Pretty much what Dennis said would be here.” Dylan sorted through the various items, mostly papers and documents, everything from over a hundred thousand dollars in CDs to copies of Carl and Leda’s marriage certificate, Carl’s, Leda’s and Dylan’s birth certificates, and a small box of photographs.
Dylan picked up a velvet pouch, opened it and dumped the contents into the palm of his hand. Maddie watched him as he gazed down at the plain gold band and the one-carat solitaire diamond.
“Mama told me once that she scolded Dad for spending so much money on her engagement ring,” Dylan said. “Having been raised poor, Mama thought a one-carat diamond was very extravagant.” He eased the engagement ring onto the tip of his index finger, then studied it closely. “She told me that when I grew up and found the girl I wanted to marry, she intended to give me this ring for my bride.”
“Oh, Dylan, what a dear, sweet sentiment.”
He dropped both rings into the velvet pouch and placed them back in the metal box, then dumped the photographs from the box and spread them out on top of the other papers. Maddie looked at the pictures, mainly black-and-white snapshots of his parents. But in the middle of the old photos, several studio-quality pictures of a baby caught Maddie’s attention.
“May I take a closer look at these?” She pointed to the baby pictures.
“Sure, go ahead. I noticed them,” Dylan said, “but I don’t recognize that child.”
Maddie studied the photos of a baby girl with big blue eyes and dark curly hair. “This child resembles Lena. She’s the little girl who was abandoned on the country club golf course a few months ago, the child that Josie and Flynt Carson are taking care of.”
“Are you sure?” Dylan grabbed the photos. “Why would my father have pictures of the abandoned baby?”
“Good question.”
“Hart said that my dad showed an interest in Baby Lena, right? And we know that three of the four men Dad defended in the Haley Mercado murder case were together playing golf when they found the child. Now we discover photos of that child in my father’s safety deposit box. Could there really be a connection between this child and my father’s murder?”
“Maybe. But it could be only a coincidence. And concentrating on the baby might lead us off in the wrong direction.”
Slumping his shoulders, Dylan sighed. “I’m going to l
eave everything here at the bank for now.” He gathered up the items and arranged them in the safety deposit box, but slipped the photos of the baby girl into his pocket.
A few minutes later when they left the bank, Dylan pulled out the photos and looked at them again. He frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Maddie asked.
“Nothing. I just had a crazy thought. But looking at this child, I see no resemblance to my father.” He held up one of the photos. “Do you see any?”
“Oh, Dylan, you can’t think that little Lena is your father’s child.”
“No, not really. I told you it was a crazy thought.”
“You’re grasping at straws.” Maddie slipped her arm through his. “Come on. Let’s go to the club and have a late lunch in the café.”
“Yeah…okay.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing really, just thinking about one other source of possible information.”
“And that source would be?” she asked.
“My dad has a safe at home. One of those old wall safes behind a picture in his den.”
“Why haven’t you already checked the contents?”
“Because I don’t have the combination,” Dylan told her. “Besides, I think the only thing he kept in there was some cash and an old Smith & Wesson revolver that belonged to his uncle.”
“Maybe a locksmith could get the safe open for you.”
“Maybe. I’ll look into it soon.” He guided her to his Porsche, then unlocked and opened the door for her. “Right now, I’d rather have lunch with the prettiest girl in Mission Creek.”
Smiling, Maddie slipped into the passenger seat. “Are we going to pick her up on the way to the club or is she meeting us there?”
Dylan leaned down and into the Porsche, bringing his face close to Maddie’s. “Neither. She’s already right here, close enough for me to kiss.” He brushed his lips over hers.
Maddie’s stomach flip-flopped. If Dylan’s compliments weren’t sincere, she didn’t want to ever learn the truth. Don’t doubt him, an inner voice advised. If she couldn’t trust Dylan, she’d never be able to trust anyone.
The Rebel's Return Page 12
