by Judy Kentrus
He lowered his gaze. This trip back in time was waking up all the heartbreak he’d fought to overcome these past eighteen years. He was glad when Sallie Mae brought his lunch. While eating, he reviewed his email. The one marked red, priority from Margaret Taylor, drew his attention.
“Received another threat. Forwarding it along with the others I gave you the other day. Will be in Pittsburgh the next couple of days. Meeting representatives from the company to discuss gas wells. Highly confidential. Again, I DO NOT want any of this mentioned to Jessie. I’m available via email and cell phone. Linc, I’m scared. Watch out for my family. Margaret Taylor
He sent all of the emails to Reggie, his head computer tech, to start researching the origin of the messages. They were top priority, for his eyes only.”
This time, he left the Spoonful by the rear door. He was about to get in his truck that he’d parked in the municipal parking lot adjacent to the café, and noticed a slip of paper tucked under the windshield wiper. He looked at the surrounding cars and pick-ups. Their windshields were clear. It appeared he’d been singled out. He withdrew the sheet with two fingers, mindful of where he touched the surface. The words had been cut out from magazines and newspapers. The person watched too much television, Linc determined. “Mind your own damn business. We don’t want or need you here. Leave now before you or the people around you get hurt.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” he spat and looked about, this time more carefully. Whoever had left the message was long gone. It appeared someone else was privy to Buford’s Will. Before starting the truck, he placed the note in a clear plastic bag. Danni Snow, Michael’s wife, was a crime scene investigator, currently on maternity leave. She could dust for any latent prints the person might have left and send them to her brother Nate, an FBI agent, to run against their IAFIS database.
He drove a few short blocks to Main Street and parked by a meter. Laurel Heights was probably the only place on earth you could park for an hour for ten cents. Numerous store windows displayed “For Rent” or “Building for Sale” signs. He was glad to see Jack’s Pizzeria was still in business. Jack and his wife Maureen made the best pie west of New York City. He passed two more vacant stores before he came to the Post Office. A lone postal clerk, in his regulation USPS uniform, stood behind the counter. Linc recognized the first aid responder from the other evening.
Dave remembered Linc right away. “I treated your head wound Saturday night. Any headaches?”
“No, I’m good.”
“How can I help you?”
“I’d like to open a post office box. I also need to overnight a letter.”
“Just in time. Last truck leaves at four-thirty. Since you are staying at the judge’s for the next ninety days, I can have your mail dropped off with the daily postal delivery.”
Did everyone in this town know where he was staying and the length of his sentence?” Linc preferred that his mail and packages stay private. “No, thanks. I don’t mind picking it up daily.”
He finished the paperwork and walked outside, wondering where the afternoon had gone. He’d received a text message from Marie saying the apartment was livable and smelled like springtime. He turned to head back to his truck, but almost stepped on a small white poodle with a pink bow behind each floppy ear. He bent down and put his palm forward. “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?”
The older woman, with a matching pink bow in her up-swept style white hair, scowled at him as if he’d committed mortal sin. “Don’t sniff him, mien schatz. He isn’t a nice man. He assaulted our Jessie. Come with Mommy, Liebchen.” The snobbish owner tossed her nose in the air and headed in the opposite direction, pulling the prissy little dog on a rhinestone-studded leash.
“Don’t pay any attention to Mrs. Schmidt. She’s real particular when it comes to her poodle.”
Linc appreciated the kind smile from the pretty woman dressed in the pale blue smock decorated with a variety of cats and dogs. A few dark-brown curls brushed her forehead, ending just above her wire-rimmed glasses. Earrings in the shape of Scotty dogs dangled from her ears. He gauged her age to be forty-ish. The dog-bone shaped name plate on her uniform read Lisa Kay, Vet. Tech. He wondered if she remembered she was wearing a headband with two gray and black cat’s ears. “From her reception, I better change my deodorant.”
She held out a hand in friendship. “Lisa Kay. Glad to meet you, Lincoln. Yes, I know who you are. The whole damn town knows Buford’s grandson is back. And for the record, I don’t believe you assaulted Jessie. If you had, you’d have trouble walking. Come inside and see what we’ve done to the old hotel. I think you’ll be amazed.”
Lisa didn’t give him a chance to say no, so he followed her to the entrance of the Keystone Hotel that was built in the early nineteen hundreds. It had been a popular place to stay, since it was two blocks away from the train station. Gold lettering on one of the etched, double-glass doors read, “Doggie Day Care and Spa. The other door read Dr. Samuel Dubielsky, Veterinarian.
The dark oak walls had been restored and two, tear-drop crystal chandeliers glowed brightly. Woven blades on ceiling fans rotated slowly, moving the air around. Deep wine and navy carpet runners ran the length of the dark cherry floors.
Lisa rested her arms on the tilted platform of the ornate Concierge stanchion and handed him a tri-folded brochure. “We take in dogs and cats while their owners go on vacation. The grooming spa is on the second level. Dr. Dubielsky, the town Vet, occupies the first floor. I’m his assistant.”
“This is truly amazing,” Linc said, appreciating how they’d utilized and preserved a part of the town’s heritage.
“The old guard claimed it was an eyesore and wanted to tear it down, but Buford Adams thought it should remain a part of the town’s history. He purchased the building, had the interior refinished, and upgraded the utilities to meet code. Dr. Dubielsky leased the hotel for a dollar a year, with the stipulation that the tenant was responsible for the taxes and maintenance. Buford bequeathed the Keystone to the doctor in his Will.”
Linc was slowly getting over the shock of finding out about the things his Good Samaritan grandfather had done. This was not the man Lincoln had lived with as a child. Buford was a real Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. His troubled musing was interrupted by the saucy sound of the female jazz singer he’d listened to as a kid.
“Would you happen to have any special cat treats?”
“Follow me.” Lisa led him to the retail area off the main room. Pet grooming supplies, cans and bags of dog and cat foods, along with a variety of treats and toys, were neatly displayed on library-type wooden shelves. “If it’s for Abbie Lincoln, she likes the CET fish or chicken flavors.”
“Are you a mind reader too?”
“No, just a logical assumption. You’re living above the judge’s garage and are bound to encounter the saucy queen. She has a boyfriend, my black cat, Xavier Cugat. My mom and I live next door to the Taylors.”
“In that case, I guess were neighbors. She was the first one to greet me. I’ll take a fish and a chicken.”
He paid cash for his purchase and smiled. “Thank you for the tour.” Linc tilted his head to the side. “Was there a special reason you’re wearing cat ears?”
“AH!” Lisa gasped and whipped the band off her head. “We had a birthday party for one of our regulars, a gray and black tabby. We thought it would be cute to wear the ears.”
“You look adorable,” he winked, and left a blushing Lisa Kay.
Jessie parked her vehicle in the Municipal parking lot across from town square and watched Lincoln Adams exit the Doggie Day Spa. She’d already gotten his plate number and would run it first thing tomorrow morning. While on patrol, she stopped at Paul’s Garage to find out how the financial charges had been settled for the Stingray; a credit card from Long and Barrows. Her personal cell phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Mrs. Schmidt reported he had lunch at the Spoonful and business in the post office. Lincoln Adams had no idea his every move was being mon
itored by the busybody squad, Laurel Height’s version of Neighborhood Watch.
Jessie glanced at the square plastic box on the driver’s seat. She was off-duty, but had volunteered to take the department’s overnight mail to the post office before heading over to the elementary school for the parent meeting to discuss the annual fishing derby. When she entered, the retail area was deserted. She placed the mail on the counter and rang the bell. “Dave, everything okay?”
“Be right with you, Jessie. The special delivery truck will be here in a few.”
Jess just happened to notice the next day air envelope in the priority out-going bin. She’d always been able to read things upside down. The return address was Lincoln Adams with a PO Box in Laurel Heights. Her eyes widened when she recognized the name of the addressee: Mrs. Danni Snow. How did he know Danni and what was he sending to a detective out on maternity leave? Jess made a mental note to touch bases with her friend and work Lincoln Adams into the conversation.
When Linc arrived home, he thought he’d stepped into a different apartment. The couch had been recovered with a navy and white slipcover. An assortment of colorful throw pillows blended with the large plaid pattern. The recliner was the same, but an afghan in a rainbow of colors, had been draped across the back. Skinny Venetian blinds and sleek, panel-style white curtains accented the windows. Rustic style tables and lamps replaced the ugly fifties décor.
The bedroom was another shocker. Vertical cloth shades blended with the narrow stripes of the black and silver duvet that covered the bed and pillows. Black, box-style nightstands had been added to the almost Spartan room, along with slender silver-stemmed lamps. Slate blue and black throw rugs were scattered about the floor. He was truly amazed.
The kitchen hadn’t been neglected. A red and white checkered cloth covered the table. In the center was a wicker basket of fresh fruit, something he enjoyed. They’d filled his refrigerator with an assortment of bread, cheeses, butter, cold cuts, milk, and eggs. He wasn’t about to starve.
He suddenly remembered the cat treats on the front seat of his truck. It had started raining a few minutes ago and he’d hurried up the steps. Jessie’s police car was parked in the driveway. On the guise of bringing Abbie Lincoln her gift, he could check on mother and daughter. He was also anxious to meet the thoughtful nine-year-old he was now responsible for protecting.
Currently, said cat was splayed across Edie’s lap, purring in ecstasy from the loving hand being run down her belly. “Who could ask for anything more?” were the thoughts than ran through the feline’s head.
“Edie, put the cat down and set the table,” Jessie said, draining her home-made Spaetzle that she was serving with her beef goulash and brown sugar-glazed baby carrots.
“But, Mom, she’s comfortable and purring so nice.”
“But, Edie, if you want to eat, you’ll do your job.”
She’d just set the unhappy cat on the floor when she heard knocking on the back door. “I’ll get it.” The exterior sensor light had turned on and she could see the identity of their visitor through the clear glass on the upper half of the door. “Mom, there’s a pirate standing outside in the rain.”
Chapter 7
“That’s Mr. Adams. Let him in before he gets drenched.”
Edie craned her neck to stare up at the stranger when he stepped inside. “I’m not supposed to let people I don’t know into the house, but my mom said it was okay.”
“Hi,” Linc greeted, stepping quickly out of the rain. ”That is excellent advice.”
Edie closed the door. “She’s in the kitchen. Don’t forget to wipe your feet on the rug, so you don’t track water on the clean floor.” Edie hesitated and blurted. “You look like a pirate with that patch over your eye.”
Linc couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve been told that by two other pretty girls.” With her long braids, she resembled an Indian Princess, and her golden brown eyes rivaled the beauty of fall leaves. She was tall and slender for her age. The front of her olive green shirt read “Annual Laurel Heights Fishing Derby.” Under the words was a bright yellow wide-mouth bass.
“Sorry to intrude.” Abbie Lincoln chose that moment to brush against the bottom of his jeans and meow. “Just who I was looking for.” He reached into the deep side pocket of his leather jacket and withdrew the frosted bag that displayed the crossed dog bones logo from Doggie Day Care and handed it to Jessie.
She peeked inside. He’d even gotten the right kind. “That was very thoughtful of you. Guess you met Lisa Kay. She knows what Abbie Lincoln likes to eat.”
“She introduced herself as your neighbor. I was very impressed by what they’ve done to the hotel.” Linc knew he was being scrutinized by the curious nine-year-old. He braced himself, having dealt with Scott’s two inquisitive seven-year-olds.
“Why do you wear your hair in that little pony tail?
Jessie closed her eyes, slightly embarrassed at Edie’s direct question, but it was something she should have expected. Being openly candid was all part of her daughter’s outspoken personality. “Edie, that’s not polite.” The words had barely left her mouth when a flash of lighting brightened the room. The lights blinked and needles of rain beat harder against the windows. Two seconds later, a kettle drum of thunder joined the melee. It was going to be an 1812 Overture night.
The truth was, he’d worn his hair long in defiance of his grandfather’s demand that he get it cut. He brushed a finger under Edie’s small chin. “It saves time and I don’t have to get many haircuts,” he offered as a lame excuse, then noticed the table was set for two.
“Sorry, I’ve interrupted your dinner.”
“Do you want to have supper with us? Mommy always makes extra, ‘cause she likes to have leftovers. She takes them to work for her lunch. She said you shouldn’t waste food. There are children who go to bed hungry every night. You should only put on your plate what you’re going to eat.”
Linc was surprised by the unexpected invite and glanced at Jessie for direction. She didn’t appear to be the least bit surprised by her daughter’s bold invitation.
“If you like beef goulash and home-made Spaetzle, you’re welcome to join us.”
“I’d like that, very much.” It was going to be a lot easier to find out more about Jessie Taylor than he imagined. Edie appeared to have a chronic case of adolescent diarrhea of the mouth. Linc took off his leather jacket. “Where can I hang my coat?”
“I’ll take it. There are hooks on the wall board by the back door. I’ll put another plate on the table while you wash your hands.”
“I’ll show you where the powder room is, Mr.” Edie hesitated. “What should I call you? The kids in school call you a not nice name. If I repeated it, I would be blowing soap bubbles with my mouth.”
“A very good friend has two daughters and sometime they call me Mr. Pirate.”
Edie tapped her pursed lips in thought. “We’re studying the Presidents of the United States and I like Mr. Lincoln because he freed the slaves. It would be cool if I called you Mr. Lincoln.”
He laughed out loud and tugged on one of her braids. “That’s fine. Let’s wash up before your mom’s dinner gets cold.”
Jessie was overwhelmed by the easy interaction between her daughter and their guest and was grateful for Edie’s presence. He’d only been in Laurel Heights a couple of days, but he’d barged his way into her conscious thoughts, his sexy, hard body in nothing but a skimpy towel, the memory of the cute dimple in his ass. And that damn smile. How she was going to handle her reawakening feelings for him, she didn’t know.
She noticed some of the noodle batter had hardened on her jeans. They had a few minutes before the dinner rolls would be ready. She rushed up the wooden stairs of the butler’s staircase off the kitchen and dashed down the hall to her bedroom. When she moved back home, she’d purchased the white wicker bed and nightstands. Pale pink Priscilla curtains were draped on the three, double-hung windows. One of her favorite pastimes was to sit on the
thick cushioned window seat and burrow among the fine lace and pastel colored pillows. It was the perfect spot to make wishes and daydream. Lincoln Adams had filled many of those adolescent fantasies.
One of her dreams was to become a cop. She graduated with honors from John Jay College, with a degree in criminal justice, and then applied for a position on the NYC Police Department. After four years on the force, a bullet in the chest and the death of her partner, shattered her illusions of standing on the side of law and order. In a moment, a heartbeat, her life was changed forever.
She grabbed a gauzy white blouse and a pair of light denim pants and hurried into the bathroom. “Now you know where Edie gets her un-ladylike traits,” she said. looking in the mirror over the sink. “No make-up, your fiery hair is in a listing ponytail. He’d be more attracted to a mop.” She yanked off the scrunchie and ran a comb through her untamed waves that fell just past her shoulders. There wasn’t any time to apply make-up to camouflage her freckles, so she wiped her face with a warm cloth and brushed on a light layer of deep rose lip gloss. She spritzed each side of her neck with her favorite Lavender Vanilla cologne. “Better.”
Linc returned to the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of Jessie standing on tippy toes in her bare feet, reaching for a bowl on the third shelf of the cabinet. The thought, barefoot and pregnant flashed through his mind. The change in the woman he was eager to get to know was heart-stopping. The close fitting pants hugged her perfect bottom and outlined her slender waist and thighs. Her hair was loosely flowing like golden strands of fire across her shoulders. She’d changed her clothes just for him.
