Winter Winds

by Gayle Roper

  She watched a slow smile grow on Phil’s lips and felt hopeful.

  “You think we’re innocent?” he asked.

  “I thought I already said that. I’m either very naïve or very perceptive, but I do.”

  He suddenly stood. “Well, let’s go prove you’re right.” He came to her chair and pulled it back for her. “Let’s go ask Dori to let us see in that suitcase.”

  Twenty

  AN OLD LADY with white hair cut short and combed back from her face answered the door. Joanne thought that she was very pretty for being that old, and that she looked like she went with the house. She was the grandmother who made cookies and stuff, sort of like Aunt Bee did for little Opie back in Mayberry, only she was way prettier that Aunt Bee.

  Joanne opened her mouth to explain about the suitcases, but Vinnie beat her to it.

  “We’re looking for Dori MacAllister. My girlfriend here,” he pointed to Joanne and she smiled, “and Dori mixed up their suitcases at the airport. We drove all the way up here to make the exchange.” He smiled at the lady who looked at the suitcase on her doorstep in dismay.

  Suddenly she pushed the storm door wide open. “Come in, please. It’s too cold to stand out on the doorstep.”

  Joanne and Vinnie stepped into a warm hall with lots of photographs clustered on one wall. Three kids at various ages smiled in the pictures, and Joanne fell in love with the idea of pictures of her own kids hanging up like that. All she had to do was get Vinnie to marry her so she could have them. She would never have a kid without getting married first.

  She grew up with three brothers, and all four of them had a different last name. Her mother had never married any of the fathers. In fact, Mom always said she didn’t even know who Joanne’s father was. She gave Joanne her last name by putting the names of boyfriends she could remember in a hat and drawing one.

  “I’m so sorry,” the white-haired lady said, pulling Joanne back to business. “But Dori isn’t here.”

  Joanne’s heart skipped a beat. Had she gotten something mixed up? Vinnie’d kill her if she had. Maybe she’d written down a wrong number? Maybe they weren’t even at the right house. She thought back over her talk with the Small Treasures lady named Meg. No, Jo was sure she had everything right. Besides, the white-haired lady seemed to know who Dori was.

  Joanne’s heart skipped another beat as she thought of something so scary she feared she’d be sick on the spot. Dori had found the paintings! She’d found them and done something with them, like maybe gone to the police. The guys on Nick at Nite always went to the police when something wrong happened. Law and order was important to them. They didn’t transport stolen goods. She was the idiot who did that.

  The white-haired lady smiled. “She’s sort of on her honeymoon.”

  Honeymoon? “I thought she was visiting her sick grandfather,” Joanne blurted.

  The lady nodded. “She was, but Pop wasn’t as sick as we first thought. In fact, I brought him home today.” She smiled, obviously pleased.

  Joanne found herself smiling back. Was Pop like Mr. Huxtable, the grandfather on The Cosby Show? Did he have a gentle voice and play in a band?

  “When it became obvious that Pop wasn’t as sick as we had thought, Dori and Trev left.”

  “Who’s Trev?” Vinnie asked.

  “Our grandson, Paul Trevelyan.”

  Joanne thought for a moment. “Isn’t Dori your granddaughter?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Your granddaughter married your grandson?”

  The woman nodded again. “Sounds funny doesn’t it?”

  “Can you do that?” Joanne asked, fascinated. Maybe weird stuff did happen in the Nick at Nite houses after all. Maybe not knowing your dad’s name wasn’t really so terribly bad.

  “Dori’s our adopted granddaughter, so it’s all right.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” Joanne felt a surge of relief as the world righted beneath her. She looked at Vinnie and caught the hint of panic in his eyes.

  Forget grandsons and -daughters, Joanne. Think paintings. Think Mr. J. Think poor Vinnie.

  “So where are they?” Vinnie asked. “Did they go to one of those places in the Poconos? The ones with the heart-shaped tubs and all?”

  The lady laughed. “No. That’s not their style.”

  Joanne couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to go to one of those resorts. She wanted to go there when Vinnie finally got around to marrying her. The very idea of the heart-shaped tubs was so exciting! Or maybe the tubs that were like champagne glasses, the ones you had to go to the second floor to climb in.

  The lady thought for a minute. “They’ve probably gone home by now.”

  “Back to California?” Joanne squeaked.

  The lady reached out and patted Joanne’s arm. “No, no. Back to Seaside.”

  “Seaside?” Joanne and Vinnie said together. “New Jersey?”

  The lady nodded.

  “We live there,” Joanne told her. How great was that! “We can get the suitcase real easy.”

  “Let me give you Trev’s address,” the lady said and did.

  They were halfway back to Seaside before Vinnie spoke. “I can’t believe you led me astray like that.” He turned and glared at Joanne.

  Jo’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “How did I lead you astray?”

  “Making me go all the way to Pennsylvania when the suitcase was in Seaside all along.”

  “I told you to call first, but no—” she started when Vinnie’s cell phone interrupted with “The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze.”

  Joanne grabbed the phone from his belt.

  “Don’t answer!” he yelled at the same time she said, “Hello. This is Vinnie’s phone.”

  “And this is Neal Jankowski,” a deep, brisk voice said. “Give me Vinnie.”

  Eyes wide with awe, Jo passed Vinnie the phone. He held it like it was going to bite him. He took a deep breath and swallowed. She saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

  “Hello, Mr. Jankowski, sir,” Vinnie said. “How may I help you?”

  All Joanne could hear was the low rumble of Mr. J’s voice.

  “I’ll take them over to your assistant first thing in the morning, sir. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  More rumbling, and Joanne watched Vinnie’s Adam’s apple bob up and down again several times.

  “Well, yes, I should have taken them Friday evening. I know that. It’s just that there have been—” He cleared his throat. “—complications.”

  “Complications?”

  Joanne heard Mr. Jankowski roar the word as clearly as if she’d had the phone to her ear. Then he went back to a rumble.

  “B-barney Noble, sir?” Vinnie made a gagging sound. “Really, sir, I don’t think I need his help.”

  Joanne slapped her hand over her mouth. Barney Noble! Vinnie’d told her all about him. He was Mr. J’s cleanup guy. He did everything from collecting on overdue loans to doing away with troublesome people.

  And when Mr. J heard about her mix-up, he’d think she was about as troublesome as you could get.

  Joanne shuddered as her blood froze as solid as the water in the puddle right outside her apartment’s front door.

  Twenty-One

  DORI WALKED HOME with Trev and Jack, her mind full of Clooney’s comments about Trev. About her husband. She tried to make sense of her confused emotions, but she was so tired she could barely think, let alone sift through chaotic feelings that shifted from moment to moment with all the subtlety of tidal shifts in the Bay of Fundy.

  Trev squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming with me and Jack. I know it was selfish of me to ask and gracious of you to agree, but I wanted some time alone with you. As soon as we get home, you climb into bed and sleep as long as you can. I promise not to wake you.”

  How wonderful that sounded. “Thank you, thank you!” Sweet sleep to knit up her raveled sleeve of care. Or something like that.

  They had just rounde
d the last corner, Jack walking contentedly beside Trev now that he’d had his outing, when Trev said, “Uh-oh.”

  Climbing out of a car in front of their house were Phil and a dark-haired woman.

  Dori wanted to cry at the sight. There went her nap.

  “We’ll get rid of them as fast as we can,” Trev said. “I promise.” He released Jack’s lead and the dog, now straining toward Phil, dashed headlong toward his objective. Phil, wise man that he was, shoved his companion behind him as Jack bore down. The dog reared up, planted his paws on Phil’s shoulders, and washed his face with doggie kisses.

  “Down, you big oaf,” Phil ordered as he rubbed Jack’s ears and neck. “You’ll make Maureen think you have no manners.”

  At that, the dark-haired woman stepped around Phil and began running her hands up and down Jack’s back. In a flash Jack abandoned Phil and focused his affections on the newcomer.

  Dori watched the young woman with interest and Phil with even more. He was watching the woman with a goofy smile unlike any Dori had ever seen from him before.

  “Who’s she?” she whispered to Trev as they drew near. Curiosity had pushed the need for her nap aside for the moment.

  “I have no idea.”

  “He likes her. A lot.”

  Trev frowned. “How can you tell? All I see is a girl scratching Jack.”

  “Don’t look at her. Look at Phil.”

  “Ah. I see what you mean. He looks sort of like I probably do when I look at you.”

  Dori’s pulse kicked. What was she to do with these wonderful comments he threw out when she was least expecting them? She was saved from having to respond at the moment by Jack remembering who fed him and racing over to Trev to share a wiggle or two. Then it was back to the young woman.

  “Hey!” Phil greeted. “This is Maureen, and have we got a story for you!”

  Maureen looked up from Jack and offered an infectious grin. “I love your dog. We had one like him when I was growing up. Ours was a police dog injured in the line of duty and retired from active service.” She looked back at Jack, rubbing his ears. “He could have been your papa, handsome, you look so much alike.”

  Jack, who knew a compliment when he heard one, kissed her with a great sweep of his tongue.

  “Not fair, buddy,” Phil muttered as he pulled Jack away. “You got to kiss her before I did.”

  Dori, biting her lip to keep from laughing at Phil’s put-upon expression, shot a glance at Maureen. She stood, face red, making believe she hadn’t heard a thing.

  “Come on in,” Dori said, patting Maureen’s arm sympathetically. These Trevelyan men! “We’re dying to hear your story.”

  Led by the delighted Jack, the four of them went inside. As they took off coats and gloves and hung them up, Ryan came downstairs to join the action.

  “I did the dishes,” he informed Trev in a martyr’s voice.

  “Good,” Dori said without an ounce of compassion for his extreme suffering. “We’ll make a man out of you yet.”

  Ryan frowned at her. “You’re worse than my grandmother.”

  She grinned back. “Thanks. Knowing how much you miss her, I take that as a compliment.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes.

  Dori scanned the living room, suddenly aware that seating would be a problem. A sofa and a chair. Four seats, five people. “How about we sit around the kitchen table. We’ve got enough chairs out there, I think.”

  As she led the way into the other room, she thought of her green and peach love seat and the two white wicker chairs in her living room in San Diego. Certainly they wouldn’t fit in the car being driven east by Randy Reynolds. She’d have to find another way of getting them here. How expensive would it be? The question of how they would mesh with Trev’s oversized furniture was secondary to the fact that they would then be able seat more than two guests at a time, a situation that seemed desirable for a pastor’s home. Too bad Randy wasn’t driving a U-Haul truck.

  When they were all settled at the table, sodas before them, Phil looked at Maureen. “Do you want to tell them how we met and why you’re here, or shall I?”

  Maureen grinned at him. “Can I trust your version?”

  “As much as you can trust me,” was Phil’s wiseacre reply.

  Maureen studied him for a minute, then nodded. “Go ahead. You tell.”

  There was a moment of startled silence as Phil’s gaze locked with hers.

  Dori bit back another grin. Though she had no idea of the hidden connotations in the byplay between the two, the trust Maureen was showing meant something special to Phil. Her brother-in-law looked like someone had just hit him over the head with a substantial stick. The man was a goner, no two ways about it.

  Ryan looked like he wanted to stick his finger down his throat and make gagging noises, clearly affronted by the romantic vibrations in the air, but he politely restrained himself. Dori was impressed and patted his hand. He looked at her, startled, then returned her smile.

  Trev cleared his throat. Phil jumped and actually flushed. Maureen just smiled softly to herself and waited. Dori knew she was going to like this woman. Anyone who could discomfit Phil was a woman worth knowing.

  “I met Maureen Friday,” Phil began.

  “Before or after I got in?” Dori asked. She didn’t want to miss a detail of this juicy story.

  Phil scowled at her. “After. Now don’t interrupt. It’s a long story.”

  Dori held her tongue as she, Trev, and Ryan listened, fascinated. Phil told the tale with all the drama it deserved. “And so I convinced her that you were not a courier for organized crime, and that you would be more than willing to let her see your suitcase.”

  Ryan stared at Maureen, eyes wide. “You’re really a cop?”

  She nodded.

  “But you’re a girl.”

  Dori shook her head. “Ryan, we really have to work on your gender issues.”

  “There are lots of women police officers these days,” Maureen said.

  “But what if the bad guys are big?”

  “I’ve been trained to overcome situations like that.”

  Ry nodded. “And you’ve got your gun, right?”

  “I do, but it’s a last resort. My father’s been a cop his whole life, and he’s never fired his gun in the line of duty. I hope for the same record.”

  Ryan looked disappointed, trained as he was by TV blood and guts. “But you fire it out of the line of duty?”

  Maureen nodded. “But only on the practice range. We have to keep our skills sharp should the need to use the weapon ever arise.”

  “Are you good?”

  “I am very good.” She made the statement quietly but with a certainty that left no doubt about her claim.

  Ryan nodded, somewhat mollified. “Where’s your gun now?”

  “In my locked glove compartment.”

  “What good does it do you there?”

  “Well, I didn’t think I should wear it to church. Then I went to the pharmacy, then out to dinner, and from dinner directly here.” Maureen looked around the room, frowning intently. “Is one of these guys a lot more dangerous than he looks? Should I go get it?”

  Ryan giggled. “These guys are all wimps. I bet you could take them out with your little finger.” The giggle became a full-fledged laugh.

  Dori smiled. There was truly nothing like junior high humor.

  “I think we’re getting just a bit off track here,” Phil reminded everyone. “We need to see Dori’s suitcase.”

  Dori rose. “Come on. But it’s not my suitcase, just as you guessed, Phil. However there’s no name or anything identifying on it. And if there’s stolen masterpieces in it, I haven’t found them.”

  Ryan led the charge upstairs, the others following. In the master bedroom, Dori dragged the suitcase out of the corner where she’d put it. Trev lifted it and deposited it on the bed. He made to open it.

  “May I?” Maureen asked, laying a hand on his arm to stop him.

 
Trev stepped back as Dori said, “I’m afraid that if there was any evidence that would help you, I contaminated it when I went through the contents looking for some identifying information of some kind.”

  Maureen shrugged. “It can’t be helped.” Carefully, she studied the case, the latches. She searched the outer pouch, then opened the bag. Then item by item, she lifted out the collection of used clothes, examining each one thoroughly.

  “There aren’t any labels on anything,” she commented. “Did you notice?”

  Dori hadn’t.

  “Cut out so you can’t trace stuff, huh?” Ryan’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  Maureen nodded. When the suitcase was empty, she ran her hands carefully over the lining, taking special care at the seams. Dori watched with interest, seeing nothing suspicious.

  “Ah.” Maureen smiled and began to pick at one corner where the lining covered the bottom. With just a little work, the lining peeled back and there lay two small unframed canvases.

  “Henri Matisse,” Maureen said as she laid the paintings on the beige duvet.

  Dori couldn’t tear her eyes from the glowing canvases. To think they had been in her possession, and she hadn’t even known it. Shouldn’t things this beautiful give off vibrations or emanations or something that let you know they were near?

  “They’re small.” Ryan looked disappointed. “I thought masterpieces were big, like in museums, you know?”

  “Small or not, they are very valuable.” Maureen studied them with a faint smile. “They belong to a private collector on the West Coast, someone I’d never heard of before we got involved,” Maureen said.

  “So now you give them back to him.” Ryan smoothed the duvet around the paintings, his small hands quick and careful. “And the mystery is solved.” He looked up with a delighted grin. “Wait until I tell the kids!”

  “Well, uh.”

  Dori turned to Maureen as did the others. For the first time she looked somewhat uncomfortable.

  “Well, uh, what?” Phil asked. “We’re not allowed to tell?”

  Maureen waved her hand in a motion of dismissal. “I’m not worried about you telling, though of course you can’t.”