by Nora LeDuc
She put her hands on her hips. “Are you sure the threat is for you?”
“You can’t have all the Ledgeview whackos for yourself, Rose.”
“I thought I saw my neighbor, Bike Boy, pedaling away when I came out.”
“A camera at the station caught a figure with the same build as Bike Boy painting graffiti on the wall. Unfortunately, the lens didn’t catch a picture of his face.” Lennox crouched down in front of the damage. He ran his fingertips over the scratched area like a physician inspecting a broken arm.
“I’m sorry about your car.”
“She’ll be okay. Old Charger has suffered worse and always comes through.”
“I thought cops named their cars Old Paint. Your name fits though. Will the touchup be expensive?” She leaned against the side of the hood and studied the destruction.
“Forget the paint job. I’m taking care of you first.” His dark expression would send a normal person searching for cover.
“If it wasn’t Bike Boy who keyed your car, then the true sleezeball could still be around.” She did a three-sixty scan.
“I’m on it. Sit in the car for a second. You look like hell.”
“I’m fine. Though, if you spoke to your wife like that, I’m beginning to understand your relationship problems.”
“No personal commentaries.”
She flattened her hands against her sides. “Whoever keyed your car is a coward. He should come out and listen to the message I have for him.”
“I’ll pay the bill. Come with me.”
“I’ll wait by the car. How much do I owe?” She opened her purse.
“That’s not how it works.” He took her arm and propelled her toward the building.
“If the words on your car were for you, why do I have to go inside?” she asked, running to keep up with him.
“Because I’m always mistrustful, remember? I’m not leaving you alone.”
He slowed once they entered the restaurant. He paid the bill, but not before ordering the host to refuse Rose’s money. The man threw her a speculative glance. “You scared him,” she said as he led them to the kitchen. “He probably thinks I’m a counterfeiter.”
“You’re crediting him with too much imagination.”
He quizzed the waiters, cooks and manager. All claimed they were inside working and never glanced outside. The elderly patrons spouted off on the dangers of public parking and reported to have seen a stray dog hanging around the dumpster before they entered.
“As usual, no one saw a thing, except a dog that can’t talk and isn’t around. We’ve no suspects,” Rose noted as the exit door swung open for them.
A detective from the station strolled inside.
“Conroy, what are you doing here?” Lennox angled in front of him, drawing the detective to a halt.
Conroy’s eyes widened. He readjusted his glasses on his nose. “Did the mayor pass a law against eating lunch?”
“Since you’re never around when I expect a report, I’m surprised to run into you. Back from Vermont already?”
“The report must have gotten lost in all those files on your desk. I’m on my way out of the city in a few minutes.” Conroy raised his chin and stared Lennox in the eyes.
“When did you park in the lot?”
“I don’t have to punch in and out, but if it’s any of your business, which it’s not, I arrived three minutes ago. Mind if I order, or do you want to spring for my meal?”
“Eat yourself sick. Let’s go, Rose.”Lennox took her arm and they headed out.
She leaned toward him when they were out of earshot. “Doesn’t he work with you? I saw him at the station.”
“He’s a Ledgeview detective.”
“Would he key your car? He sounded angry the other day and not too happy today.”
“Don’t worry about Conroy. I’ll take care of him.” Lennox yanked open her car door and once he snapped his seatbelt in place, he headed toward her apartment.
She broke the silence after a few seconds. “Why did you come outside from the restaurant?”
“To make sure you were okay.”
It had been a long time since anyone cared if she was all right. She was usually the one who did the worrying about people in her life. It was nice to have someone else do the fretting about her.
“So no vibes of Dahlia at the Audi,” he said, slowing for a stoplight.
“I caught a glimpse of a shadow in the cellar. Myra claimed it was a rat.” Rose swallowed to ease her discomfort. “Let me explain.”
“I can’t wait to hear.”
“I found the door leading to the basement open, and I caught a whiff of my sister’s perfume drifting up the stairs. I was about to investigate when Myra interrupted me, and then, you appeared.” She leaned toward him for her big question. “What kind of perfume was Myra wearing?”
“Is this a trick?” he asked, turning onto Main Street.
“She was wearing rose perfume. Strange, huh?”
“Tell me more about the theater and your sister.”
She studied his face to discern if he was hinting at something. As usual, his profile gave nothing away. “Myra reported no one used the cellar stairs, and the door was always locked. She seemed to believe I unlocked it somehow. What matters, Lennox, is your friend, Buddy, lied to us.”
“I don’t follow.” The stoplight changed to green, and he hit the pedal.
“Buddy reported he left the donated clothes in the basement. He couldn’t if the door was bolted because of the steps. We’ve found at least one hole in his story about meeting Dahlia and probably can find more.”
“There are several rooms in the basement and another staircase to them on the other side of the stage. My high school held their awards ceremony at the Audi, and before the event, I had a first-hand view of the layout below. The auditorium’s basement hasn’t been renovated since I was a teenager. My memory vouches for the fact Buddy could have gone downstairs another way.”
“Then you’ve no reason to be afraid to take me to the Drowns unless you’ve doubts about your friend. A few of my harmless questions over a simple meal can’t hurt.”
“I’m protecting innocent people from upsetting insinuations. Remember, these people are the closest I have to family in Ledgeview. I promised no one will be left out of the investigation. The Drowns are no exception.” He steered the car down Main Street.
“Bull, Lennox. Take me to the Drowns. I want to observe Buddy.”
“Rose, when you show me your license in psychology or degree in criminology, I’ll reconsider.”
The tightening of his jaw warned she’d entered the no-win zone. She decided to change the topic, but suddenly she became aware of how closely they sat. A few inches separated them. She could feel his body heat. She played back in her mind his earlier concern. If only she’d met him another time in her life. Now it was all about pain and grief. How had her life become so bleak? She felt like she was caught in the middle of a horror movie without a happy ending in sight. She had to make sure her sister’s killer was found. The throb in her forehead turned into a pounding. I’m trying to help you, Dahlia.
“Are you okay?” He threw her a concerned glance.
“We’ve not made a millimeter of progress toward capturing the killer.” Her voice shook with hurt. If she was stronger like Gram, she’d will away this sense of failure and pain. Gram had been a single parent most of her life and then started all over and raised both Dahlia and herself. She survived on a waitress pay until she died of cancer. She’d believed she’d beat the disease and had a survivor’s attitude to the end.
Rose fell silent with the tears blocking her throat. Against her cheek, she felt the brief warmth of a palm. She stared at him. Did Lennox, the tough guy, have a hidden affectionate side or was she overreacting?
He removed his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. “If we go to the Drowns,” he said, keeping his gaze steady on the street. “I’ll ask the questions about your
sister and only if they fit into the conversation.”
“Absolutely,” she said, brushing away a tear on her cheek.
“We learned one earth shaking fact today.” His brows drew together in deep thought. “Myra wears rose perfume.”
“If only that fact solved the crime. Don’t forget you have another suspect. Let me know if Bike Boy fesses up.”
“I’ll keep you in the loop, but confessions are rare unless they’re in the confessional.” He detoured into a drive thru, ordered a salad and handed it over to her. “For you and don’t give me guff. You didn’t eat at the restaurant.”
In five minutes, he pulled to the curb at her apartment and reached for his door handle.
She released her seatbelt. “Wait, I didn’t thank you for changing your mind about dinner with the Drowns, and I’m sorry about your car.”
Without thinking, she leaned over and stopped halfway between the seats. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? He’d never indicated or sent vibes that he wanted her to initiate anything personal with him. In fact, his change of heart about the visit was most likely a pity action. And she was supposed to be the psychic one. Mother of Pearl, she was making one large embarrassing mistake.
She needed to extract herself from the situation, but how to do it with poise? He was throwing her a curious glance. She inhaled the scent of his leather jacket, saw each tiny whisker on his chin and—
His arms encircled her shoulders and tugged her closer, giving her no time to protest. She pressed her hands against his chest and the smooth touch of his coat cooled her palms.
“Rose?”
“Hmm?” He had gorgeous, blue eyes.
“Is there someone who’d beat me to a pulp if I kiss you?”
Her face heated. “Feel free, Lennox. I’ve a no strings policy.”
“In that case….” He skimmed his mouth over hers, barely touching her lips in a teasing manner.
What was he doing?
He tightened his hold, and her heart sped up. He continued to linger, and then began exploring, claiming the pulse in the hollow of her throat with gentle nips. The brush of his whiskers glided upward and grazed her chin. She shivered against the sensual promise and pressed closer against his hard chest.
She should end this. But the moment was filled with such delightful tingling sensations. She didn’t want him to stop, yet. As though sensing her uncertainness, he tipped her head up and deepened the kiss, extending the moment. The sounds and scenes of the street vanished. He cupped the back of her head, holding her in place while his lips became more demanding. His hand brushed over her breast. Her body quivered with a dizzy feeling and a sizzling heat. She was lost in the feelings, in him. She gripped his shoulders.
A siren went off and blared in her ears.
“What was that?” She pulled away. Was she hearing bells or sirens when they kissed? Sirens made sense, he was the law.
“The ambulance drove by.” His tone reflected an unruffled in-charge expression.
Obviously, he’d heard and felt nothing extraordinary when he kissed her. How embarrassing. “I have to go.”
“I’ll open your door.” He reached for the handle on the driver’s side.
He could speak calmly? Breathe? “Never… mind.” She jumped out of the car and ran to the building’s steps.
“Rose, wait,” he shouted.
No way. “Don’t bother walking me in. See you later.” She unlocked and bolted through the entryway in record time. She flew up the stairs before he could catch up to her. She’d kissed the detective in charge of her sister’s murder case. She should have been reviewing notes, bouncing ideas or theories off him, anything, but not kissing him! Wrong time, wrong man. She was a true Blue, following in the footsteps of her mother and sister. They flitted from man to man choosing ones who wouldn’t commit or were totally wrong for them. She couldn’t be the next to follow in their footsteps.
She ran across the sidewalk and into the apartment with great speed. How fast would she run when their time came? Planning the moment when she disappeared was critical. Take her unaware when she was trusting like her sister and then vanish.
Rose, my ultimate catch. You will be all mine.
Chapter 11
Thursday, Rose showered and dressed in jeans and a turquoise, button down shirt to sit in front of her laptop. Nowhere to go, but lots to do. How cooperative would her sister be today?
“Dahlia, how am I going to help you?”
You can do it, Rose.
Rose’s heartbeat picked up at her sister’s response. “Help me. Who did you meet at The Ledges?”
Rose waited, but her sister didn’t answer. Shaking her head, she booted up the computer. Her eyes burned from a restless night of little sleep. Okay, she’d do this the hard way. She’d find information about Buddy Drown’s past encounters with the police, something to support her suspicion and Frank’s. Show Dahlia she cared and was sorry she’d gone off course with Lennox yesterday.
After nearly an hour of searching the internet, Rose found nothing damaging about Buddy’s character. Where was the news about his arrest for statuary rape?
She sipped on her third cup of Irish Cream coffee. The fighting Irish was just what she needed for energy. Her thoughts wandered to Lennox. He didn’t have an easy job if this fruitless search was typical. She wished he was here. And then, there was the possibility of another kiss.
The hope of a repeat performance and his promise to take her to the Drowns for dinner kept threading through her mind. She couldn’t wait. She gulped another mouthful of coffee and on impulse, typed in Luke Lennox. She hit the enter key.
The computer whirled and brought up a screen full of results. His name showed up in old stories about the Ledgeview High football and baseball teams. Buddy’s name was listed beside his.
She read the final paragraph describing Lennox making the winning touchdown in overtime. You were quite the athlete. What else did you do? Scrolling downward, she came across the headline: John Lennox, Local Detective Deceased.
She clicked on the article and leaned forward. A picture of Lennox’s father materialized next to the piece. She read through the section, taking in the basics.
Detective John Lennox died yesterday at his home. He was a member of the Ledgeview Police Force, serving as one of their lead detectives. John leaves behind a son, Luke, and his wife, Mary. He was fifty-seven.
Wow, what else could she find? She plugged John’s name into the search box and chose the first link that appeared. The next piece reported John Lennox was born in Ledgeview where he attended local schools and graduated from college with a degree in criminal law. She read on: The ME ruled his death a suicide from a gunshot wound. Suicide?
He shot himself? What? She pushed away from the laptop, but the picture of Lennox’s father that she’d seen in his office popped into her mind. Lennox was proud of his father; his death must have hit Lennox hard. She dismissed the image and was skimming through the rest of the online item when the phone rang.
Rose grabbed her cell lying next to the computer. The caller’s ID told her to answer.
“Hi, Cassie, how’s business?”
“Steady. How’s everything in New Hampshire?”
“I wish the police had arrested someone, but so far…nothing. How’s your mom? Remember, she gets a discount at the Blues Sisters while you’re working for me.”
“Mom has your store’s name engraved on her credit card. We’re still your best customers, and I’m your best stand-in manager. If I keep buying while I’m in charge of your boutique, you’ll be able to retire early and rich. Hey, I called for a reason. Mom and I would like to help you by cleaning Dahlia’s Brattleboro apartment. Are you okay with the idea?”
Rose sat up straighter in the chair. “I’ve been putting it off. I bet her landlord will charge for another month’s rent if I don’t get her stuff out before the first.”
“We’ll pack everything and bring the boxes to the store. Dad will h
elp us too.”
“Great. I owe you. Oh, and Dahlia kept skis in the backyard shed near the garage. If you can take those, it’d be great. I’ll repay you when I’m home.”
“Post my picture as your best customer on your store’s website, and mention I’m single. We’ll be even.”
“Will do. You’ll find a key to my sister’s place in the top desk drawer in the office.”
“Keep the faith. We love you.”
Rose clicked off her phone and shoved away the touch of homesickness. With a sigh, she turned her concentration to the computer. “Buddy Drown, stop hiding your criminal past.”
The thump of footsteps in the hall announced a person’s presence. Her hands froze on the keyboard. The creak of a hinge confirmed someone was opening the door across the hall. It must be her neighbor. Lennox would interview Bike Boy and take care of him. She relaxed her hands and stared at the word suicide on her screen.
The buzz of the doorbell made her jump. It was probably a salesman, or a kid selling Girl Scout cookies. No, cookie selling was over. The bell persisted. “Sales people never rest.”
Rose stuffed her feet into her shoes. She crossed the floor and hit the button. The buzz continued.
“Hello, let go of the button. What do you want?”
“Youuu. I want you.”
“What?” She released her finger. Was this a joke?
The buzz became a persistent whine, clawing against her nerves. “Stop pushing the button.”
The shrill filled the apartment. She put her hands over her ears for a second. Where was the connection? Where was it? She’d enough with suicides, murders and now the stalker or another crank at her door. She searched for the cable that linked the doorbell to her living quarters. Her fingers closed around the wire filament, and she tugged the line from the box.
The ringer fell to a distant whimper, but refused to quit. Tension wound in her chest, tightening and twanging. Call Lennox. No, she could handle this. All she needed was to peek out the window and get a good look at him or her.
