"Just so you know, I don't think anyone around here would actually bother you. It was someone just trying to spook you. I guess they succeeded."
"How about you? Do you have any idea who they were?"
He shook his head. "Not specifically, but like my sister told you, there are a few cretins around here with too much time and too few brains. You'd be just the thing to bring them out of the woodwork."
"What do you mean?"
"A young woman they've never seen before, out running alone on a near-deserted road. A lonely pervert's dream."
"So they're perverts, are they?"
"An educated guess."
"You really know how to make a woman feel at ease."
"Well, if it will help ease your mind, I accept. I'll run with you. But you'll have to make allowances for my rusty old framework. It's out of practice."
"Old, right. I've got, what, four years on you? And you look healthy enough."
"Appearances can be deceiving."
"In your case, I'm betting not."
"I don't start before nine am."
"Lazy bones."
"Take it or leave it."
"You drive a hard bargain."
"That's why I'm rich."
She gave him a sharp glare. "I thought it was your parents who were rich."
He didn't flinch, and his grin was infuriating. "They helped."
She sighed, wondering if he realized just how callous he could be. "Leave now. Nine sharp in the morning."
He gave her a long, searching look, which she met with equal wryness, her arms akimbo, and finally, he nodded with a look of genuine good cheer. "I'll look forward to it. We can talk more at dinner tonight."
"If we must."
"We must, we must," he said. "So, until then."
She gave him an intentionally weary nod and turned her back on him, hoping it showed sufficient disdain. But he quickly reached out, smacked her soundly on the backside, and then was gone in a flash, though his retreating footsteps in the hall sounded steady and relaxed.
Courtney swore under her breath. She found that her heart was thumping with excitement, which she had to admit distressed her, but not all that terribly.
Chapter 4
Out on the highway, there were several familiar franchise restaurants and shops, but in the town of Fearing proper, a prospective diner had two choices: Woodard's, a country inn that featured an elegant, four-star restaurant; or Tall Ships, a somewhat less picturesque bar and grill whose star rating was, at best, indeterminable. Jan had recommended the former but left the choice to Courtney, who opted for Tall Ships because, despite her friends' wealth, choosing an extravagant outing seemed like an abuse of their generosity. Anyway, even when she could afford such things, lavish dining held only marginal appeal.
The tavern's warm lighting and nautical décor struck Courtney as quaint and appealing, the mélange of scents — frying fish, hickory smoke, and a tang of citrus — singularly inviting. Early in the dinner hour, only a smattering of patrons lurked in the shadowed booths and at the bar itself. From a jukebox in a corner, Johnny Horton's "Battle of New Orleans" brayed at low enough volume to be almost innocuous. To Courtney's relief, David led them to a secluded booth as far from the noisemaker as possible. She slid into the seat first, expecting Jan to sit next to her, but David took the liberty, leaving Jan to sit across from them. A blonde waitress wearing a very tight Tall Ships T-shirt materialized almost immediately to take their drink orders. Her eyes lingered uncomfortably on Courtney when she asked for a glass of Cabernet Franc.
"I guess David's got himself a new one," she said, her tone clearly disapproving. "So where do you come from?"
"She's my friend," Jan said, reaching across the table to touch Courtney's hand. "And I think I'd like a Guinness, if you please."
Courtney gave the waitress her most charming smile. "I come from Atlanta. You must be Brandi. Or is it Barbie?" Jan barely held back an explosion of laughter.
"Red wine and a Guinness," the girl said, ignoring her. Then, without looking at David, she added, "And a scotch on the rocks." As she turned to leave, she flung a parting glance at Courtney. "The name is Deena."
"That was my next guess."
She felt David's amused stare and chose not to meet it. She leaned toward Jan, who was still choking back a laugh. "One of your brother's broken hearts, I presume?"
"Please. Deena's not that hard up."
She sent David a scornful smile. "Forgive my presumptuousness."
"Ah, jealousy," he said. "I'd hate to see you and Deena get into a fight over me."
"May I harm him?" she asked Jan.
Jan' eyes didn't stray from her menu. "Be my guest."
"Well, maybe after dinner," she said with a sigh. "I'm hungry, and I don't want us to get thrown out of here."
"It wouldn't be unusual, believe me."
"What — getting thrown out of here or somebody harming David?"
"A fight breaking out."
Courtney snickered, uncertain whether Jan was exaggerating. After a couple of minutes, Deena brought their drinks and, with cold looks to go around, asked to take their orders. Courtney settled on a calamari salad, which struck her as positively cosmopolitan for such a backwater pub. Jan and David both ordered fish and chips.
"She's not going to spit in our food or anything, is she?" Courtney asked, after the blonde had left.
"No," Jan said with rather surprising firmness. "She wouldn't risk her job over anything so petty. She'd have a hard time finding anything else around here."
Courtney raised an eyebrow and David nodded knowingly. "Yes. A very hard time."
"I see," she said, a little disconcerted by David's smugness, though she figured she ought to be used to it by now. However, after another moment, she became aware of a dark shadow behind her left shoulder that seemed to press uncomfortably close, and when she finally looked around, she saw a very tall, heavyset man, forty-ish, with a dark, scraggly beard and deep, penetrating eyes standing just behind their seat. She noticed then that David's gaze had turned to the man, and his jaw was clenched in obvious consternation.
The big man stepped forward, placed his huge hands on the table, and leaned down to address David. "Hello, Mr. Blackburn," he said with a nod of mock deference before offering Jan and Courtney a barracuda smile. He spoke in a soft tone but his voice rumbled deeply. "I guess y'all are obliged to leave your castle now and then to mingle with the commoners."
"Mr. Surber," Jan said with a smile that failed to mask disgust. "How nice to see you. A pity it has to be before we eat."
Without invitation, the man slid into the seat next to Jan, forcing her to scoot over reluctantly. His dark eyes fell on Courtney and glared. "Who might you be?"
"I might be a good friend of Ms. Blackburn. Thank you for asking."
"Dwayne Surber," he said, thumping his chest with his index finger. "So what's your name?"
"Courtney."
"Well, nice to meet you, Courtney, who ain't from around here." He then focused his attention on David, indicating that, to him, the two women were no longer present. "Okay, Mr. Blackburn, I think it's time to discuss our arrangement. You've had more than plenty of time to make good on it."
"Perhaps we should talk outside," David said, his eyes hardening. "This isn't the place for it."
"Whether it is or it ain't, it's where we're going to."
He glanced at Jan, whose face had gone chalky. "All right. Talk."
"Well, now. Near as I can tell, it's your responsibility to carry out your parents' instructions, ain't it, Mr. Blackburn? And you ain't done it. So you might say that some people's patience is wearing thin."
David drew himself up with an indignant scowl. "Mr. Surber, you know my parents were killed, right?"
"Yessir. Shame about that."
"Well, I have to tell you. That particular fact has made me somewhat reluctant to carry out all their wishes. Truth be told, it's led me to believe that some of the parties inv
olved in this 'arrangement' may not have acted in good faith."
"The only party not acting in good faith is you."
"That's your opinion. Which you're entitled to, of course."
"It ain't just my opinion, Mr. Blackburn. It's the opinion of quite a few folks around here."
"That doesn't change anything."
"It might ought to."
David gave him a long, thoughtful look. "All right. Tell you what. I'll take the issue under advisement and get back to you."
"Don't you bullshit me, Mr. Blackburn. Now, you listen. I'm reasonable man, but some around here…well, I can't promise nothing about them."
"You're not threatening me, are you, Mr. Surber? You know that I don't give in to threats."
"I ain't threatening you. Just bringing you a message. One you better take damn seriously."
"Then consider your message delivered. And let us have dinner in peace."
"No sir. I come to get a commitment from you. 'Cause it's high time you gave one."
David leaned close to the man. "You look here, Mr. Surber. I just told you. I'll take your message under advisement. That's as much commitment as you will get from me tonight."
"Like that means a damn thing."
David shrugged. "Take it or leave it."
Surber now looked across the table at Courtney. "Where you from, young lady?"
"Atlanta."
"Well, Atlanta. Maybe you oughta pack yourself up and get on back there."
To her surprise, David reached over and placed a firm hand on the bigger man's wrist. "You've overstayed your welcome, Mr. Surber. I suggest you leave. Right now."
The man's dark eyes studied David's for an agonizing time before disengaging his wrist with a little jerk. Finally, he said, "Okay. I see how it is. I come to reason with you, Mr. Blackburn. I never wanted no trouble, and I didn't think you did, either. But you and me ain't the only ones involved. I guess I've done my part."
"I appreciate your candor," David said, putting on his charming smile.
"Bullshit," Surber said, slowly rising from his seat. "I don't think you appreciate much of anything."
"Good evening, Mr. Surber."
The big man gave the three of them an icy stare before turning and striding away in the direction of the front door. Courtney watched after him, and for a second, beyond the glass door, she thought she glimpsed a grotesque, half-familiar face leering at her. It disappeared when Dwayne Surber pushed his way into the night, and as she lifted her glass of wine to her lips, she found her hand trembling.
Jan's hand came down reassuringly on hers. "Don't let that man upset you," she said. "He used to work for my parents, and they had some disagreements. He's been taking it out on David, since they're no longer here for him to harass."
"Disagreements nothing," David said. "He and his family tried to extort money from Mom and Dad. When they died, he decided to try collecting from Jan and me. I've got news for him. It's not going to happen."
"Um, you insinuated that he might have had something to do with their deaths," Courtney said. "Is he that dangerous?"
"Please don't worry," Jan said. "None of this involves you in any way. Whatever he said, he was just trying to intimidate David. It's not going to work, and you don't have a thing to be afraid of."
"Is he one of the men I saw this morning?"
David shook his head. "I doubt it. Not his style. He wouldn't waste his time coming out to our place just to intimidate a guest."
"I thought I saw one of them at the door just now."
Jan and David exchanged glances. Finally, David said, "I doubt it."
A moment later, Deena arrived with their food and another round of drinks, and they fell silent as she served them, Courtney so frustrated with David's sketchy answers and patronizing tone that she felt halfway compelled to shove his plate into his lap. But when he briefly raised his eyes to meet hers, she saw in them a faint glimmer of fear — and perhaps grief — which drove her ire into partial retreat. His confrontation with Dwayne Surber had not only rattled him, it had churned up painful memories of his parents. Yet he had stood up to the man without flinching. She had to give him some credit for that.
They ate for a while without speaking, and Courtney found her dinner excellent, which helped boost her spirits. Jan finally began to tell her about some of the things they could do to enjoy themselves over the next few days — such as going to the beach, which was about an hour away. Courtney responded cheerfully, heartened by the prospect of putting some distance between them and potential troublemakers, at least for a time. Besides, she had always loved going to beach, and it had been way too many years since the last time.
Back when Sheila was just a baby.
When Frank, in a drunken fit, had gotten them thrown out of their hotel.
Don't even start thinking about that.
As she finished her meal, she glanced around at the patrons, whose number had increased significantly since her arrival, and she discovered several pairs of eyes casting furtive, suspicious looks in her direction. At first, she thought she must be overreacting to the night's stress, but several times, she raised her eyes quickly, only to catch numerous pairs shifting away from hers, and one man, sitting alone in the adjacent booth, began to blush so fiercely that there was no question as to the object of his attention.
She could barely suppress a little shudder. No one had any reason to take a particular interest in her, she thought. Except for one thing: the fact that she was with the Blackburns.
David threw back the last of his scotch, gave Jan and Courtney a quick, searching look, and said, "Well, are we ready to go?"
"Is Deena bringing us a check?" she asked.
"It's covered," he said.
"It's covered," she echoed, almost inaudibly. "Then I guess we're ready to go."
As they vacated the booth, Courtney dug into her pocket for a couple of her few remaining bills and left them on the table. A lanky bus boy quickly materialized and began cleaning the table, and when she glanced back, she saw the young man pocket the money. His eyes met hers, and he threw her a snaggletoothed grin.
"I suppose I should have warned you," David said, leaning close to her. "I'm afraid that tip will never get to Deena."
For a second, she considered marching back to the booth and yanking the bills right out of the young fellow's pocket, but she knew it would only draw more unwanted attention. She shook her head in disgust and followed David and Jan as they headed for the door. One middle-aged man, seated close to the door with his wife and young son, sent David an obsequious nod and said, "Evenin', Mr. Blackburn."
"Good evening, Bill."
"G'night, Mr. Blackburn," someone called from a couple of tables over.
"Good night, George," David replied.
"Have nice night, Mr. Blackburn."
"'Night, Mr. Blackburn."
"Later, Mr. Blackburn!"
Without looking around, David raised a hand, waved, and then led the way into the cool night air. As they went around the building to the dark parking lot, where David had parked his BMW M3, she nudged Jan and asked, "Are those people for real?"
"Oh, make no mistake, they respect us. It's just that none of them particularly like us."
"In this town," David said, as he unlocked the doors for them, "people view wealth and education as both enviable and despicable. They do downtrodden very well."
Jan put Courtney in the front seat and slid into the back. "Mom and Dad owned a couple of large farms in the county," she said. "A lot of these people used to work for them. Dad owned the bank here, too, until he sold it to a national chain — just before he died, as a matter of fact. Some people resented the fact that he allowed it to go to outsiders."
"People are bitter about that?"
"This was always a tight-knit community. It's not so much anymore. Some people blame Mom and Dad for bringing 'progress' to the area."
"Yeah," David said, as he started the car, shifted into gear, a
nd pulled out of the parking lot. "Dad started up the first of the corporate farms here. Before that, it was just families and individual farmers. He provided a big share of jobs in this community, but a lot of folks conveniently seem to forget that."
"Shame," Courtney said. "And your friend Surber tried to extort money from him?"
David nodded. "That whole family is bad news. I hope you won't have to see any more of them than you already have."
Courtney hoped the same thing. But Dwayne Surber's business with David appeared unfinished, and she could not forget her brief glimpse of the homely face ogling her through the tavern door. It was the same leering face she had seen in the pickup truck that morning. She was certain of it.
One other thing she knew: from now on, she intended to keep her canister of pepper spray with her — whether out in public or in her room at her hosts' house.
Upon their arrival home, David retreated to his studio, so Courtney spent the rest of the evening in the great room with Jan, drinking wine and making small talk, the television providing mindless background noise. She paced her intake more carefully than she had the previous night, determined to avoid a second uncomfortable morning. Jan's drinking, however, was anything but measured — due, no doubt, to the incident with Dwayne Surber — and she laid to rest an entire bottle of Shiraz before bidding Courtney goodnight and shuffling off to her room, though promising they would still plan to be off to the beach bright and early the following morning.
Courtney retired feeling vexed and disappointed, for in her brief time here, she had scarcely found relief from the stress of her own life's collapse. She had committed herself to her old friend's hospitality, and even if she wanted to leave, she no longer had anywhere else to go. Somehow, Jan and David's explanation for Dwayne Surber's enmity seemed to her contrived, or at least incomplete. Would someone intent on extorting money confront his target so blatantly in public? No, there had to be more to the story. Tomorrow, she would demand the truth. She could believe that David might lie to her, but not Jan.
As she readied herself for bed, she glanced frequently toward the wide gap in the curtains, through which it seemed that unseen, baleful eyes in the pitch-dark woods glared in at her. Insects and night birds chattered and chirped their passionate chorales, much louder than any she had heard in Atlanta, and so intrusive that the idea of getting earplugs hardly seemed outlandish. Here in this remote suite, she felt totally isolated from the rest of the house and its people, and for several minutes the impression of being alone and vulnerable almost overwhelmed her. The men in the truck knew they could find her under this roof, and it would take only cursory reconnaissance for them to locate her quarters.
Monarchs Page 4
