Whispers of Danger and Love

by Janis Lane

  Cheryl just nodded, sitting quietly for a moment before rising and seeing her to the door.

  “Weird adventure this time. I’m sorry, Jane. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Cheryl heard the rattle of the back door and roused herself from a deep sleep. Had she thought to put the inside latch on? More rattling, then silence. She lay awake, a sliver of a moon causing almost no threat to the darkness. What were her feelings for David Larkin, playboy cop of the county? She was certainly aware of what her girly hormones thought, but who could trust those? He was a big bruiser of a man, ruggedly handsome with a smile that could strip the bark off living trees. He’d been in and out of her life from childhood, careless of her feelings, but irresistible all the same. She’d always been drawn to him like a magnet clipped to the refrigerator. Thank goodness they hadn’t connected all that often. He alternately treated her like a big brother with an annoying little sister or a casual would-be lover who was attracted to her when he paused long enough to really take notice.

  She twisted in the sheets. It was hard to practice deception when she was alone with her private thoughts. In all honesty, she had a thing for Big David. Had had since she endured puberty at age twelve going on thirteen. Her grandmother had consoled her once when her friend had made a promise and then forgot about it.

  “He’ll take a bit of growing up before he’s worth anything to a good woman,” she said to a sobbing, disappointed Cheryl.

  Wonder just how much more growing up he needs yet? She turned over, thumped her pillow, and was just drifting off to sleep when she heard a tap-tap on her window.

  “I don’t believe this,” she said, getting up and finding her robe. She drew the curtains aside and raised the window just an inch.

  “Cher, honey. Let me in. Just for a minute, okay? I really need to talk to you.”

  “Call me on the phone, David. I’m sleeping. Call me in the morning.”

  “I won’t keep you long. Honest. Let me in, please?” His voice had dropped an octave and had reached the sultry, sexy range. The Italian was here again. She struggled against the sound, determined to resist the pull of his call.

  “What do you want that can’t wait until morning?” she asked, knowing she was failing.

  “Just a point or two that needs clearing up. I need to be gone very early in the morning. Can we chat just for a minute?”

  “David.” Her exasperation was more for herself than for him. He was just the same as he always was, his selfish needs preceding hers as usual. Situation normal, nothing changed.

  “Please, Cher, sweetheart?”

  She wondered who else in the neighborhood he was waking.

  “All right. Just for a minute. Do you promise?”

  “I do, I swear!”

  She could hear rustle in the shrubbery at the side of her house. For a moment she wondered if he had been about to climb in through the window. David, David. You are probably the reason I can’t make a match with more eligible men. She belted her robe and stepped in bare feet toward the back door where indeed she had found on a hook an ancient key to his house. Their grandmothers, living next door to each other, had been best friends as well as neighbors.

  As she slide the latch back, the door popped open and she was enfolded by the warm, firm arms of David Larkin, cop by profession, plant killer by day, and seducer of random women by night. He snuggled his head on her neck pulling her tight against his body.

  “What is it about you that I need in the night, sweet Cher?” He trailed kisses down her neck and headed south toward her breasts.

  “Whoa, big fellow. That’s enough of that.” She pushed him backward, noting to herself that it was quite clear what it was that he needed in the night, and she thought it prudent to put as much space between his need and her as she could manage. Certainly she could agree that it was a big need indeed. Her own needs she squelched as quickly as she could manage.

  “So?” She re-belted her robe wondering how he managed to undress her so adroitly. She hadn’t felt a thing.

  “Can’t I come in?” he asked plaintively.

  She could just make out the lines of his face in the almost complete darkness. Trees rustled in a slight breeze and stars twinkled overhead. The night was enchanted and she was in danger of being seduced by a sorcerer. She pushed against his massive chest gently then found his hand and tugged.

  “Let’s go into the garden, shall we?”

  He grunted in agreeable satisfaction and tried to steer her toward the hammock strung between two trees.

  “No, no. Let’s sit over here on the bench by the goldfish pond. I always wanted to try it out in the night.”

  He ambled beside her and settled at her side on the stone bench. It was cool to her bottom and a bit scratchy to her bare legs. She realized David, bare footed, wore a pair of tennis shorts and a T-shirt.

  “Well?” She held tightly to his hand which was attempting to wander over her person.

  “Well, what?” he asked, persisting in the exploration of her robe.

  “You said,” she said patiently and ponderously, “. . . that you wanted a minute to discuss something with me. What is it?”

  “Oh yeah, that. Well, I want to ask a favor of you. When you go to work at Toledo’s tomorrow, I need you to keep your eye out for a certain person. Well, two, in fact. I have the pictures at the house. You want to come over and see them now?” He breathed softly on her neck and kissed her there.

  She held her breath while he found her ear and kissed it pausing to suck on her earlobe. “David Gillard Larkin. Will you stop it? You could very well show me the pictures in the morning. You said it was important I see them tonight.”

  “It was important that I see you tonight. I needed to see you tonight. Not sure quite why, but am sure I needed . . . You are the only person alive who knows my middle name, Cher. How did you find out? You’re going to have to marry me now. Only way to keep the secret.” He managed to free his hand and held her face while he whispered a kiss across her lips. He sighed and plunged enthusiastically into her mouth.

  The magic night wrapped around Cheryl like soft black velvet. Nothing she could do but hold on for dear life. She felt as if she floated around the garden, her will sapped by the feel of his lips on hers. He pulled her close, and then lifted her easily into his lap, his neediness clearly prominent. Her robe betrayed her as it rode up her legs, leaving her stripped to her bikini underwear. He shifted her until she straddled him, taking her protests into his mouth as he ruthlessly continued to kiss her. He paused briefly and removed his T-shirt over his head, his naked chest warm against her bare . . . bare? Oh my God. He had her robe open, her pajama top unbuttoned, and they were naked chest to naked chest.

  Cheryl had a brief moment of lucidity. She was no novice. If she allowed this to continue, she knew what would happen, with no one to blame but herself. She knew what kind of man she was making out with in the garden. Handsome rogue, but rogue he was. He would take what he wanted and leave her crying once again. Could she resist the erogenous high he had produced? Her breasts were riding against the nest of his chest hair, titillating the nipples with just enough pressure to drive her wild. Okay, just a minute more and then she’d. . . .

  He picked her up and walked rapidly toward the back door all the while continuing to kiss her lips, her face, and trying to kiss her breasts.

  “Cher, we need to go inside, honey,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  “Absolutely not! Put me down, David. Right now! This is not going to happen tonight. Not tonight, not never. I refuse to be your next-door-in-need girl.”

  David dropped his arms in surprise, backed up, and tripped over the little garden statue of Pan tucked into a fragrant bed of lavender, his half-goat self piping in a concrete frozen act of seduction.

  Perfect. Pan the half man/half
goat will find you good company, David Larkin, she thought as she hurried toward the back door.

  “What the hell!”

  She could hear him floundering in her garden and in the blackness of the night heard splashing in the lily-covered goldfish pond.

  Feeling heady release and freedom from temptation, she ducked inside and slammed the door, locking the night chain against him, and then slid to the floor, a bundle of unfilled urges pounding in her brain. Panting, she ran to her bedroom, jumped in bed, and pulled the covers over her head.

  The thought came to her that she need not fear strangers intruding into her home but a familiar figure alternately beloved and disliked from next door. She had come very close to engaging in something that would upset her very much the next day. Hopefully he had not been injured from his encounter with a concrete replica of himself and maybe had even cooled off by a dip with her goldfish.

  Chapter 5

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Cheryl asked. “Yesterday Detective Larkin assured me the best thing to do was to stay away from Sam Toledo. Now he won’t tell me why he changed his mind.”

  An early morning phone call had summoned a bewildered Cheryl. She finally had agreed to an appointment with Chief of Police McCall and Detective Kevin Fowler and had been picked up and given a ride in a black-and-white police car. There had been no sign of her late-night visitor, not even a rustle from the separating hedge.

  “And I’m sorry about that, Miss Esterbrook. It’s a matter of security. We’re in the middle of an investigation and, truly, the less information you have, the safer it will be for you.” The middle-aged man smiled at her kindly and reassuringly.

  Cheryl was still mystified and filled with residual anger at Larkin for keeping her in the dark, but his boss was going a long way to reconciling her. Why hadn’t David explained it to her in a reasonable manner like this man? No, he had to give her an order. Just like him to treat her like a child.

  “If we could, we would not involve you in this case, but your position as a worker on the estate has us asking you to help us out, if you can.” Detective Fowler pushed a button on his phone and requested fresh coffee.

  “Am I safe? David said this man was a criminal and I saw him holding a gun on another man with my own eyes. This doesn’t make me anxious to hurry over there and complete the job I was hired to do.”

  “Yes, it was unfortunate that you stumbled into that meet. We think those two are actually partners in some pretty nefarious activities. Why the gun was out is a mystery even to us. It’s difficult for honest men to guess what’s in the minds of the criminal, but no one was harmed, I promise you.” Chief McCall clasped his hands together as if he believed she would be satisfied with this explanation, then nodded and smiled at her.

  “Are they using the old Hansen Mansion for something illegal?” she asked. What did the rumor of the bulldozers mean? Were they contemplating opening up a gambling casino or something equally as threatening to the neighborhood. Surely not. Her imagination was churning overtime, which was exactly what happened when secrets were kept. Why didn’t they trust her to understand?

  Kevin Fowler reached down and shuffled a folder to the top of a pile of paperwork.

  “Does Toledo own . . . has he bought that old place?” she asked.

  The chief didn’t answer her right away and gazed out the window. After a few minutes, he turned his head and spoke with a nostalgic tone to his voice.

  “Our town has been expanding with rapid growth in the last couple of years. Time was when I was mostly acquainted with every citizen. Lately we have been forced to hire new personnel just to keep up with the expansions out on the highway. Sad but true. Small towns do grow, but not always happily.” He sighed, then sat up and put his elbows folded on his desk and assumed a very serious expression.

  She thought she understood why her friend was attracted to Detective Fowler. He projected the personality of a take-charge kind of person, but with a calmness that inspired trust.

  Detective Fowler leaned forward. “Let’s talk about your contract with Sam Toledo, shall we? You start work for him again this morning, right?”

  “Yes, I’ve already started the job. I use subcontractors and they’ve been roughing in some of the designs I’ve had approved by the clients. I have a landscaper lined up for the larger shrubs and hardscapes. What was it you wanted me to do?” She felt strange and dubious about all these secret doings. Why did they insist on keeping her in the dark? She wasn’t the criminal.

  “By the way, where is Detective Larkin this morning? I thought he was to meet me at my shop.” She sipped her coffee, wondering how soon she could escape. If she was to continue work at the Toledo property, she needed to hurry. Those contractors would charge whether they were actively working or not. Her thoughts drifted to the placements of decorative stones and hidden gardens.

  “I’m sure he’ll be able to meet with you later today.” The chief pushed a button on his phone again and spoke into an intercom. “Anne, will you bring me that Toledo folder?”

  Cheryl glanced at Detective Fowler who smiled at her reassuringly once more, while the chief continued to direct.

  “We’d like you to be a sort of watch dog for us, if you don’t mind. It would really be helpful if you could identify two men for us. Thank you, Anne.” He accepted the folder then opened it on his desk. The attractive uniformed woman winked at Cheryl and left the room.

  Was she a friend of David’s? Probably lover, if she knew David. She deliberately suppressed thoughts along that line. What good did it do anyway?

  “Here is person number one. He has several aliases but presently goes by the name of Geer Monger. If he shows up at the Toledo residence, we need to know immediately. We’ll give you a cell phone. You don’t engage this man in any way. Just identify him and call us. Okay?” He handed Cheryl a photo of a swarthy man with a moustache and a big hooked nose. One ear was pierced by a tiny hoop through the lobe.

  Cheryl studied the photo for a minute. “May I have a copy of this?”

  “Certainly. This folder is for you. Spend some time studying it until you feel confident you’ll recognize this man if you see him. Here is the second person we would like for you to look out for.” He passed her a second photo of a gray-haired man whose face seemed younger than his hair. He had a snub nose and thin lips.

  “This man also has been known by several different names but at present goes by Tim Griever. He might speak with a slight accent. Again, please do not engage either of these men in conversation. Just notify us they have been spotted . . . discretely if you can.” The chief leaned back and nodded to Detective Fowler.

  Cheryl wondered what that signal meant but soon figured it out.

  Fowler leaned almost imperceptibly forward and spoke slowly but emphatically. “This is important. We do not want you to attract the attention of either Sam Toledo or his friends. You mostly deal with the woman, right?”

  “So far. Mr. Toledo is around, but he talks to his wife or girlfriend, not sure which, and she talks to me. How long do you want me to be a lookout? Mrs. Toledo said they were giving a big party in two weeks, and she wanted me finished before then. Not that I can finish in such short time, but I intend to have her place in good enough shape by then, so she can feel confident her party will be a success.”

  “A party in two weeks?” An arrested glint came into the detective’s eyes. “Did she say anything else? How many people were invited, what the occasion was, anything at all?” He spoke rapidly and eagerly.

  Cheryl shook her head. “Nothing except that it was to entertain business acquaintances and that it was important for the property to look good. Money was no expense.”

  “That may be a significant piece of information. You’ve already been helpful, Ms. Esterbrook, and we certainly appreciate it. I’ll see you out.”<
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  “Thank you, Detective Fowler, Chief.” She picked up the folder, preparing to leave.

  “The cell phone is in the folder. Do not to hesitate to call me if you have further questions. I imagine Detective Larkin will be in touch with you soon. Good-bye now.”

  Maybe I’ll be in touch with him. Why me? Darn that man. Always in my face, interfering in my life. Now here I am about to be murdered in my bed—or at least at work. Who are all these people, and how am I to get my work done without worrying about who’s packing and who’s not.

  She skipped down the stairs and onto the street holding the folder close to her chest. As she headed for her car, she bumped into a buxom blonde who was hurrying by.

  “Mrs. Toledo! How are you?” Cheryl asked in surprise as she struggled not to drop the folder. Her purse slipped out of her hand and scattered lipstick, keys, a notepad, and a million other items she had considered necessary to carry with her all day. Her pulse raced as she scrambled to gather up the items. The blonde kneeled to help her.

  “You probably guessed that I’m not really Mrs. Just call me Francine. Cheryl, isn’t it? I’m not married to him but I have a certain role in my honey’s life, and I’m really glad to do it.” She giggled.

  “What are you doing downtown?” Francine continued. “I thought you were going to be working back at the house this morning. Do you need a ride? I’m going back there right now. I had to get my hair done and Ramón was only available this early.” She touched her hair, which was a bright blond.

  Today she wore a diamond bracelet that slid heavily toward her elbow. Her flamboyant clothing seemed to have been created for a person a couple of sizes smaller. Cheryl wondered how she managed to zip her slacks, they were so tight. Could she breathe?