Whispers of Danger and Love

by Janis Lane

Cheryl could hear Jane take a gulp and saw her shift in her seat. No doubt about it, her friend had a soft spot for the detective.

  “If they’re criminals, why don’t you arrest them?” Cheryl challenged. She absolutely refused to allow David Larkin to think he could run her life. And, whatever reactions she had to his masculinity, she would keep to herself. Half the county no doubt had sampled that careless charm. Darned if she would get in line for anyone. He would learn she was an adult and wasn’t going to play his fool while he adventured. Would he ever stop treating her as if she were still a child? She’d gotten rid of Gordon for just that very thing. She glared at David but declined to engage him in an argument.

  “Cher, honey, sweet thing . . . you’re cute as a button, but I need to make you understand. There are just some people you should stay away from. Sam Toledo has a police record which would amaze you. He may come off as civilized, but believe me, he isn’t. I don’t know that chick he’s hanging with, but, for sure, she’s up to no good if she finds his company welcome. I’ll find out who she is today.”

  “I don’t always get to choose my clients, Larkin,” Cheryl snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, I run a business, not a social register.” She glanced over at Jane but could see there would be no help from her.

  Her friend was staring at the detective, her eyes already glazing over. David was no help. As she watched, he grinned at Jane who flashed as red as her tablecloth, but still managed to smile back.

  She hastily turned her face in apology and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. Cheryl struggled to contain her amusement at her transparent friend. From the time they were in kindergarten, what you saw was what you got with her best friend. Talk about stable character. Jane’s was formed in stone. Cheryl found comfort in the knowledge that some things never change and pleased that there was no need.

  “Clients!” Larkin exploded. “Those are not clients. They are criminals! Didn’t you hear what I said, you little goose?” He hit his fist on the table and then stood up, sliding his chair nosily across the floor.

  “I don’t have a clue what those two are up to,” David said, “but, if it’s about gardening, I’ll wear ballet shoes to work. Just do what I told you for a change, Cher. Just do.” He straightened the part of his shirt covering the butt of his revolver, nodded to Jane, and banged the door again on his way out.

  “Awk! Don’t slam the door. Don’t slam the door, you naughty boy.” Polly screamed, sounding so much like Cheryl’s grandmother they burst into laughter.

  “He’s a bit peeved with you, Cheryl,” Jane said pensively. “What’s it all about?”

  “Nothing important. David, Detective Larkin, thinks he has a right to dictate my life to me just because he’s moved into his grandmother’s house next door. Notice how successful he is.” She deliberately turned her back to the window.

  “He’s one handsome hunk. I don’t know how you can stand having him living right so close to you. I think my insides would be in jelly all day, never mind the nights. Have you peeked through the hedge?” She drew the curtain back on the kitchen window and peered across the yard.

  “No, and I don’t intend to. He and his buddies are noisy enough. They’re destroying that beautiful garden his grandmother worked on for so many years. Volleyball, would you believe?” Cheryl stuffed the last of the donut into her mouth and sipped her tea.

  “Policemen have to stay in shape,” Jane said, nodding wisely like the schoolteacher she wasn’t.

  “They have gyms for that sort of thing. Enough about my pushy neighbor. We need to make plans for our excursion tonight.”

  Never hesitating to enter into Cheryl’s plans, Jane listened eagerly to her best friend.

  Brambles, weedy shrubs, and dense undergrowth grew thickly around the rusty iron fence, a tribute to an earlier gracious period of time. Its ornate design captured Cheryl’s attention momentarily as she speculated on a possible entry into the property. So sad to see it rusting away, and they could not budge it open.

  Jane stared at the huge stands of briars dubiously. “Are you sure?” she whispered. “I can’t believe anything’s left of the gardens. I remember them when I was in grade school. My mother took me on a tour with some church ladies. Very formal. Always made me want to whisper even outdoors.”

  Cheryl shook a loose corner of the hedge and gained an advantage. “I guess there’s no one left who wants the old place. Some distant relatives have sold it, I think, to a developer. In a few weeks, we’ll no doubt see a complex of apartments and townhouses here. A bulldozer will destroy any plants left. I wanted to rescue as many of the peonies as I could.” She managed to squeeze through the broken bar and reached back to pull her shovel through. “Throw me that bushel basket before you come in, will ya?”

  “Ouch! Not on my head.” Cheryl heard Jane giggle but couldn’t see her through the brush. “Come on in. I don’t think anyone cares if we’re here.”

  “Snakes might. This place just reeks of snakes. And probably rats. Big hairy rats with red eyes that bite you on the ankle.” Jane stepped gingerly through the weeds trying to stay as close to Cheryl as she could. Her spade dragged behind her.

  “Pick up your shovel. You’ll attract company with all that noise.” Cheryl stood up on an ancient, rotting stump to survey the entire yard. Massive overgrown yews meandered wildly, some dead, most beyond recognition as the original gardens sentries. She spotted a wide path almost obscured by grasses and guessed where it would lead. Dusk was not far away. They needed to hurry.

  “I have my bearings now,” Cheryl said firmly. She spotted thorny brambles up the path and tucked her arms to her side. “The peony bed is over in that corner adjacent to the side porch of the house. Just step high and don’t bump into that tickseed or you’ll be wearing most of it. The seeds stick to everything.”

  Too late. Jane had them stuck to her jeans and embedded in her hair, brown accents in the red curls. Cheryl stifled a smile. Her friend was not a plant person and rarely recognized even a dandelion. They’d need to de-seed her later. She didn’t want those seeds spread into her own weed-free gardens.

  They picked their way carefully and slowly through fallen limbs, leaves, and other debris that had collected over the years. A pungent smell of deep woods filled the air with the accumulated bits and pieces of summers past. The last occupant in the gracious old house had been an elderly lady too infirmed to garden and too poor to hire the work done.

  Huge trees, centuries old, shaded them as they wound their way through the overgrowth of weeds and scrap saplings. The setting sun peeked through the branches, flickering in and out. Cheryl would love to rejuvenate this beautiful old garden. Too late now. The property was sold.

  “I always wanted to see the inside of this house,” Jane whispered from behind her. “Let’s go peek in the window.” She jumped and grabbed Cheryl when they heard a rustle behind them. “What’s that?” she squeaked frantically. “Snakes?”

  “More likely a little chickadee or a towhee.” Cheryl peered in the direction of the noise.

  “Oh, my God! Do they bite?” Jane squeezed Cheryl’s arm painfully as she hid her face.

  “Birds, silly. They are birds that scratch in the leaves hunting for worms and such.” Cheryl grabbed Jane’s hand and pulled her forward.

  “Worms? What kind of worms? Do they bite? Are they slimy?” Jane huddled closer as they walked together toward the house. The windows, beautifully rounded and carved, were higher than they expected. They stood eyeing them pensively for a moment. The silence was broken in an occasional swirl of the dry leaves by puffs of an indolent breeze.

  “There’s a concrete block over there. Help me slide it over closer to the house.” Cheryl waded through the almost-shoulder-high weeds carefully avoiding the tickseed cling-ons and motioned to Jane to help her tug the heavy block.

  �
�Perfect.” Jane jumped up on the block and peered through the window. “Ewee. Dirty. Nice room though. Wow, wait until you see. The chandelier is still there complete with all the crystals. Must be hundreds of them. They need a good cleaning but still lovely. Here, take a look.” She stepped down and moved over to allow Cheryl to take a peek.

  Cheryl stepped on the block and was squinting through the dirty window when a movement caught her eye and she took a quick breath. Something . . . someone was inside the house. She braced her hands on the wall in front of her and moved closer to peer inside. What was going on? She reached down and grabbed Jane by the shoulder, her finger against her lips shushing her.

  “There’s a man inside with a gun!”

  Jane’s gasp had Cheryl scrambling down and slamming her hand over her friend’s mouth.

  “Quiet!” Cheryl said. “Let me see what’s going on and then we’d better get out of here.” She stepped back on the concrete block and strained to see inside the darkened room. Nothing. Whoever was inside had passed through the room and left.

  Just as Cheryl was about to step down, a man entered the dining room again holding a gun pointed at a second man. She could hear the menacing tone as one threatened the other. The voice was faint but she recognized it. She knew the man. Sam Toledo. David was right! This was no place for the two of them to be. She froze when she heard the sound of a gunshot. Dear God! From her vantage point, neither of them was visible. Did Sam kill someone?

  Her involuntary scream was stifled as someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth firmly with his hand. Terror seized her, and her blood froze. She resisted, pulling fiercely against the force holding her. She sidestepped off the concrete block and almost fell to her knees. A strong arm encircled her waist and steadied her upright.

  “Shhhh. Be quiet, Cher. I’ve got you. Come quickly.” The familiar fragrance of Larkin’s shaving lotion penetrated her consciousness. She recognized him before she turned around to see David and another policeman who had an arm around Jane and was hurrying her back through the garden. David was holding her around the waist snugly and way too familiarly. He rubbed his face against hers as they walked rapidly away. She glared at him only to be faced with a wide grin.

  “Now, Cher, we got to get you out of here, honey. This is no place for two young ladies to be.”

  Never mind that she agreed with him, Cheryl deeply resented being told what to do by the same pushy neighbor. Where in the world had he come from?

  “What’s going on, David? I saw a man with . . . it was a gun!”

  He leaned over and gently kissed her on the mouth, causing her to gasp as the sensation bolted throughout her system.

  “So tasty, little Cher. You always were so tasty.” He tugged her behind an ancient yew tree and dipped his head.

  She grabbed on to his shoulders to brace herself, her thoughts scattering for a minute before she could regain her composure.

  “Wait a minute. Stop that! You can’t just decide to kiss me any time you please. Who do you think you are, David Larkin? I know you’re trying to distract me.” It took all her will to look him in the eye while her body betrayed her longing and nudged her otherwise. Never had her hormones been so close to rebellion. Okay, once before when he kissed her, but that didn’t count. She’d been a child and didn’t know better.

  “No? But it’s so much fun.” He gave her a tender swipe, nibbling her lips and trailing kisses across her cheek, and then turned reluctantly away. “I’ll make a deal with you if you’ll go quietly with me out of here.” He turned them toward the back gate as night fell and the shadows deepened around them.

  In the distance, a streetlight shone weakly. She could just see the white grin on David’s face as he peered down at her. Cheryl looked behind her at the hulking figures created by the wild yews and other neglected shrubs. She shuddered, wondering what evil was roaming in this overgrown garden abandoned for so many years.

  “I’ll let you know exactly what’s going on after we get back to your house,” David said. “Deal?”

  Reluctantly she nodded, forgetting about her spade and basket. He took her by the hand and, smiling down at her tenderly, wound their way back through the weedy path, only once trailing his hand—now in the guise of a Frenchman or was he still in Italian Stallion mode?—too low on her back. By the time they returned exhausted and tired, Jane and she agreed to forgo the meeting until the following day.

  “You promised! You know you did.”

  It was early the next morning and Jane sat watching the two of them.

  “Hey, you two, I feel like a spectator in a tennis match,” Jane said as Cheryl raged at her old nemeses.

  David had unwisely chosen to play the “I’m an undercover cop” card and was keeping mum about the men Cheryl had spotted in the old Hansen mansion.

  “Look. No one was shot. One of those men was threatening the other, but he didn’t shoot him. Actually I think they’re partners, but we aren’t sure of that just yet.” Larkin stood at the kitchen sink making baloney sandwiches from a package of meat he had brought over from his refrigerator.

  Cheryl suppressed a shudder as she watched him. As if she would ever buy such disgusting food as that. Without speaking, she watched him slice into one of her beautiful homegrown tomatoes and slap mayo liberally across a slice of wheat bread. He added a lettuce leaf before topping it with the slice of bread and plunking it down on a paper napkin in front of her.

  “Jane?” He raised his thick, black eyebrows at her friend who nodded enthusiastically.

  “I saw Sam Toledo, David, with my own eyes. You said he was a criminal and now I believe you. He was holding a gun pointed directly at the other man, and then I heard a gunshot. How can you say nothing happened?”

  “I just can. Leave it at that, will you? You are the most annoying, nosy, little sweet thing I ever met. Eat your sandwich, honey. Everything is under control. What were the two of you doing out there in the first place? On an owl prowl?”

  “Oh, no! My shovel. And my basket.” Cheryl locked eyes with Jane who shook her head vigorously.

  “Not now, not never! I’m not going back into that jungle for anything. You can just forget it, Cheryl.” Jane picked up her sandwich and bit firmly into it.

  Larkin grinned as he sat down at the table with his.

  “I see you found some seeds to share.” He tugged an embedded seed from the back of her hair.

  “Tick seeds in my hair too? Ack!” Cheryl twisted around as if she could see the back of her head and felt for the irritating seeds tangling her unruly mop.

  Jane pushed her hand into her matted red head and tugged on an embedded seed. “I have a few I picked up myself.” She yanked and then squealed loudly when the tickseed resisted. Cheryl beckoned and then, stepping to Jane’s back, began to deseed her friend. It was a tedious job, but finally she located every one. She patted her friend on the shoulder and regained her seat at the table.

  “Antique peonies. We were trying to rescue a plant or two of those gorgeous old peonies over in the corner adjacent to the house. I heard the bulldozers were on their way. We forgot our basket and spades,” she said regretfully around a very satisfying mouthful of baloney sandwich. She didn’t want to waste the bread since it was already made into a sandwich.

  “Are you saying that Sam Toledo bought the property?” She watched Larkin’s face change from her congenial neighbor to the cop persona again.

  “Cheryl, sweets, I am not saying anything. The subject is closed. You and Jane stay away from that place. You have your clients to take care of, remember?”

  “No way! I’m calling Toledo tomorrow and canceling the job. He might shoot me if he thinks I haven’t done a good enough job.” She poured hot coffee for the three of them.

  “Err, about that. Let’s not be so hasty. You’re being paid a l
ot of money to do that design job. And you’re hoping that it will build your business. Perhaps you should keep it for now.” He blandly munched a large bite of his sandwich.

  Cheryl turned around and stared at him with her mouth hanging wide open. She closed it and sat down, sticking her face right next to his.

  “Why, now that I agree with you about the criminal aspects of Sam Toledo, are you encouraging me to continue to work for him?” A kernel of suspicion crept through her brain only to be forced back. Surely not.

  “Shot! She might get shot!” Jane said in a half panic. “You don’t want Cher to get shot, do you?” She reached over and grabbed on to Cheryl’s arm and squeezed it hard.

  “It’s okay, Jane. I have no intention of continuing the association, no matter what brain freeze David has gotten himself into this time. Probably all that volleyball he plays. When you are as old as he is, it’s dangerous to your health.”

  “Do me a favor, hon. Just sleep on it.” He stood up, patting her hair, before sliding his hand down the side of her face. He cupped her chin forcing her to look up at him. Cheryl tried to still her pulse. The beast was on the loose again. No telling where he might land. She would resist as usual.

  “Jane, I’m asking you to keep this episode quiet for now, will you? As a personal favor just for me?” He impaled Jane with his chocolate-brown eyes, and Cheryl watched her visibly melt.

  “I won’t tell anyone, David, I promise,” Jane said, her hands clasped beneath her chin as if in prayer.

  Cheryl snorted.

  The floor of the cottage vibrated as the Neanderthal detective crossed the kitchen and left by the back door, his absence creating a vacuum of sound and movement. Jane finally stirred, whispering wistfully that she thought she’d better head for home.