A Box Full of Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  Mitch pulled her closer and said, “Stop it, Julia, or I’ll be forced to kiss you again.”

  She squirmed to break his embrace and he was true to his word. He kissed her very thoroughly. This time she relented and let him take his own sweet time. When he finally broke off the kiss, they were both a little breathless.

  He grinned down at her and she smiled up at him. “Well, Deputy Lawson, is this how law enforcement brings reluctant criminals to heel?”

  “Are you reluctant, Miss Hampton?”

  “Maybe you should do that one more time, just to make sure.”

  The arrival of Aunt Ethel bearing Trouble in her arms brought an end to the subduing techniques as practiced by one very handsome, sexy lawman.

  Aunt Ethel tickled Trouble under his chin. “I was right.” She sighed. “Too bad I’m not seventy years younger. I like a take-charge kind of man and I’d give Julia a run for her money over this one.”

  Trouble kissed Aunt Ethel on her cheek with his rough tongue and wriggled from her arms. He went to sit at Julia’s feet. Mitch released Julia and scooped up the cat.

  “Come on, you fur ball. I guess you’ll have to be the chaperone.” He took two steps up the stairs of the building to where Aunt Ethel stood and kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks for helping me crash the party.”

  Aunt Ethel patted him on the cheek and winked at Julia. “Go on, you two. And don’t feed the cat. He’s been stuffing himself on all those frou-frou tidbits Audrey insists on serving. I don’t know why they can’t serve real food. I’m going home and making myself a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  “Can we give you a lift, Aunt Ethel?” Julia thought it might be wise to have someone other than a cat as chaperone considering how she felt at the moment.

  Aunt Ethel glanced from Julia to Mitch and gave them a knowing smile. “Not tonight. Regis is bringing the car around.” As if on cue a black town car rounded the curve of the driveway and the driver got out and opened the back door for her.

  Chapter Seven

  The ride to Calhoun Square didn’t take much time. They rode in a comfortable silence. Mitch felt mellow to his toes. He shouldn’t, of course. Not only had he broken just about every rule of conduct of the U. S. Marshals’ Service when he changed the nature of his relationship with Julia, but Viktor Letov was out there somewhere. He should be out there with the small army of deputies and FBI agents checking all the usual places swamp scum gravitated to in search of him.

  Instead, he had assigned himself to the personal detail of Julia’s bodyguard. It probably wasn’t the wisest course of action considering how he felt about her but he knew he couldn’t let her out of his sight. Not because another deputy couldn’t protect her, but because he would be useless at any other task because he had to know, to see with his own eyes, that she was safe.

  The deputy posted to the front of her house was clearly visible. The goal was to make sure Viktor and any of his cronies knew she was well guarded. He knew Jones would be watching the rear of the house just as closely and just as visibly.

  The cat had been purring like a cement mixer from her lap for the duration of the ride. As Mitch pulled into a parking spot a few feet down from Julia’s house, he stirred to life, stretched and yawned. He hopped out of the car as Mitch held the door for Julia and offered her his hand.

  Her fragrance wafted around Mitch as he helped her from the car. They stood there, her hand in his, still caught up in that moment in time when danger didn’t exist, the world faded away, and there was no thought of anyone or anything else. He wanted to kiss her again, could feel himself leaning in to do just that when the cat said, “Yeow.”

  Mitch sighed, grinned down at Julia, and looked at the cat waiting on the sidewalk, clearly impatient with their malingering. “I really didn’t mean for him to take his job so seriously when I said he would be our chaperone.”

  “I think he may be concerned about your reputation with your co-workers.” Julia glanced in the direction of the deputy leaning against the lamppost a few feet from her house. “Or do they already know your modus operandi?”

  Mitch took her arm in his as they followed after the cat. “First of all, my co-workers pretty much know all my failings. Secondly, I don’t have a modus operandi.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s a mental thing. You stare into space, zone out, then come back to the moment.”

  “And how would you know that, even if it were true?”

  Julia smiled. “I’m very observant. I studied art, remember.”

  “Uh huh.” Mitch let that reminder fall into place. She was observant. If he was reading Aunt Ethel’s comments correctly, Julia had exposed a forgery in a piece of art.

  “See?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Just now, that zoning out thing.” Julia released his arm as they stopped before her front door. “It isn’t very flattering to a girl who has just been kissed senseless.”

  “Senseless,” he took her hand but didn’t extract the house key from it, “I like the sound of that.”

  The cat began scratching at the door. Mitch took the keys from Julia’s hand but instead of unlocking the door, he stood there, looking down at them. Trouble said, “Yeow.”

  “The watch.” Mitch turned to Julia. “Did it strike you as odd that Youngblood wouldn’t leave it alone?”

  “He did seem a bit snarky about it.”

  “Snarky? Is that a word?

  Julia laughed. “In this case, yes. Trip is usually the most gracious man I know to everyone from the gardener to the Mayor.”

  “That makes me think it was something about the watch.”

  “I tend to agree.”

  He opened the door and ushered Julia into the foyer. He locked the door behind them, checked it, and looked to see that his man was still alert. He went next to the office door, held up the keys so Julia could point out the correct one, then checked everything from the locks on the windows to the kneehole under her desk.

  Julia trailed behind him up the stairs. He followed the same procedure in the apartment, first checking the kitchen then the living room. He frowned at the six inch opening in the window. He closed it firmly and locked it.

  When he turned toward the bedroom, Julia stood in the doorway, a look of misgiving on her face.

  Mitch’s brows arched in query and he watched as she chewed at her lower lip.

  “You don’t really need to check in there, do you?”

  “I’ve seen your bedroom before, you know.”

  “Yes, well, it’s just that I left things a bit untidy earlier.”

  He grinned. “Believe it or not, I’ve seen just about every type of ladies’ apparel there is to see.” He resisted the urge to kiss her again and moved her from the opening.

  There were three dresses draped across the bed in a haphazard fashion along with something lacy and sheer. He smiled in appreciation. Two pair of shoes looked forlorn, abandoned as they were in the middle of the floor.

  Mitch checked the two bedroom windows and shook his head as he closed them and turned the locks. He decided Julia needed a lesson in how to be safe. A second story window was just as vulnerable as a ground floor window or door to a determined villain.

  At the door to the closet he surveyed the once neat room. Stockings draped over the ottoman along with a robe of a silky cream colored fabric. The dressing table was cluttered with pretty pots and decanters and a scattering of jewels of varying types.

  It was when Mitch turned his gaze toward the deep end of the closet that he was rendered speechless. Both of the doors to the safe stood open and his eyes traveled over row upon row of shoes; strappy strips of sandals, serious three inch pumps in shades of the color spectrum Mitch had never imagined, boots of every description from low heel to high, cowboy to thigh high, rain to riding, and the icing on top: jeweled shoes from flats to heels, open and strappy, closed and beribboned.

  He slowly became aware Julia was standing
beside him. He glanced down at her then returned his gaze to the sight before him. “Well,” he said, “there’s bad news and there’s good news.”

  “What?”

  “Two pair tried to escape,” he grinned, “but they only made it to the bedroom.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I do my best. This is a first for me. I don’t think even Imelda Marcos had a safe for her shoes.”

  “I don’t have a safe for my shoes. The safe was already here and I needed the space for my shoes.”

  “Well, then, that explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “The break-in. They were looking for the combination to the safe.”

  “You were just getting back into my good graces. Do you really want to go down that road?” Her voice held a teasing note.

  A thud followed by an impatient “yeow” from the other room interrupted what was definitely becoming something that would be hard to draw back from if it went any further. That damn cat, Mitch thought.

  Both he and Julia took a deep breath then turned for the living room. Trouble sat on the desktop, a book and several files scattered on the floor below. When they continued to stand in the doorway and stare at him in consternation, he hopped down and pawed at the papers.

  “What now, Sherlock?” Julia asked as she crossed the room to crouch beside him and lifted the top page.

  Mitch knelt beside her and began sorting the pages according to name. An inventory of stolen items from the Youngblood case caught his eye. He dropped the other papers and stood. “The watch.” He scanned the list of items on the page. “There’s an antique Rolex listed on the claim form. And a note scribbled at the bottom of the page.” He squinted and shook his head. “Maybe you can make it out,” he said as he handed the sheet of paper to Julia.

  Julia read down the list of items first then held the page closer and squinted. “Heirloom, I think, and WWII.” She paled and handed the paper back to Mitch. “El Alamein.”

  She pulled out the desk chair and sat. “He was wearing the stolen watch.” Her eyes were huge in her pale face. “Doug—Viktor.” She scowled. “Whoever he is.”

  Mitch felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. The expression on Julia’s face told him that she now fully understood the danger of her situation. Viktor Letov was a criminal, capable of nasty things, criminal things, and possibly, deadly things. That knowledge had shattered something in her, something innocent and trusting.

  Julia rose to her feet. “We need to talk to Trip. Tallulah Youngblood is his niece. This watch must have been his grandfather’s.”

  “Call him. I need to see him. Now. Tonight.”

  Julia picked up her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts then dialed. After a minute she put the phone on speaker. The phone rang and rang. No one was answering at the Youngblood residence.

  “Maybe he didn’t go straight home. Do you have another number for him? A cell phone?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay. Give me his address. I’ll send a car ahead just in case.” Mitch caught Julia by her upper arms. “You’ll be fine here. No one will get past my men.”

  Julia pulled free of his hands. “It won’t take me a minute to change. I’m going with you.”

  “No, Julia. Viktor isn’t stupid. He’s a con man, among other things. The watch and the story were to make him fit in. The incestuousness of Savannah society tripped him up. He’s aware that his cover is blown. There’s no way of knowing how he’ll react.” He could see her resistance building in her expression. “We could be walking into a dangerous situation.”

  She reached behind her and began to unzip her dress as she kicked off her shoes. “I can either go with you or I can follow after you. Your choice.”

  With that she turned toward the bedroom giving Mitch a fair view of the creamy flesh down her spine. It would have been erotic under different circumstances. Hell, it was erotic.

  * * *

  Julia was true to her word. In five minutes she had stripped of her evening finery and reappeared in the living room in jeans and a turtleneck sweater, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Mitch made one last appeal for her to stay behind but she refused to be persuaded. The realization of how intimately she had allowed a ruthless criminal into her life frightened her. If she was going to overcome that fear she knew she could not be cowed by the night’s revelations.

  When she left home for college it had taken a year for her to feel safe on her own. The love and concern of her parents, particularly her father, had left her fearful and fragile. It hadn’t been their intention to make her apprehensive about the greater world but that had been the result of their solicitous concern throughout her life. The kidnapping and death of her father’s cousin when the boys were children had marked him profoundly and though no one ever spoke of it, Julia knew that event kept him ever vigilant.

  She looked across at Mitch and saw the set line of his jaw in the dim light from the car dashboard. He was furious with her but she wouldn’t be bullied by his concern. Her job, her self worth, demanded that she see this thing through to the end. She clasped her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. A sense of dread had settled over her from the moment Trip failed to answer his phone. Something was terribly wrong. She felt it in her bones.

  They raced toward Ardsley Park with the blue lights flashing. Although it seemed to Julia that it took far longer, the trip across the historic district to the south took a mere ten minutes at this late night hour.

  Two unmarked vehicles, their blue lights piercing the darkness, were already at the East 48th Street address when she and Mitch arrived.

  “Nice digs,” Mitch said as he held the car door for Julia. “Very Scarlett O’Hara.”

  Julia looked up at the beautiful white two-story house with its ionic columns and graceful rounded second story balcony. She thought it one of the most beautiful houses in Savannah. Surely nothing sinister could happen in this fairy tale place.

  They went up the wide steps leading from the sidewalk and along the front walkway to the house. As they stepped onto the porch, a plains clothed officer came out the open front door. He looked from Mitch to Julia and stopped, partially blocking their entry to the house.

  “Who’s this?” He asked.

  “Ms. Hampton, a friend of Mr. Youngblood’s.”

  “She should wait outside,” the officer said.

  Mitch placed a hand on her shoulder. “Julia…”

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “He’s all right, isn’t he? Trip isn’t hurt.”

  The officer looked from her to Mitch then back. He didn’t say anything.

  “He’s not—he can’t be dead.” Julia felt a quaking begin deep inside.

  The way the officer quickly averted his gaze told Julia that her fear had been realized. Trip Youngblood was dead. She looked up at Mitch. “I shouldn’t have delayed you. If I hadn’t insisted on coming with you, if you hadn’t wasted time…”

  “Stop it.” Mitch glanced at the officer who got the message and disappeared back inside the house. “Whatever happened was already a fact when we tried to call. This has nothing to do with you.”

  “How can you know that? He might simply have not wanted to take a late night call.” Julia felt the internal shaking spread to her hands and she clenched them as she willed it to stop. If she fell apart Mitch would refuse to allow her into the house. She needed to see what had happened.

  “This is a crime scene now, Julia. I can’t allow you inside,” he said as he waved a Savannah patrolman over.

  She caught the lapels of his sports coat. “I can help.” She closed her eyes for an instant and when she opened them she had on her game face. “I know what to look for in the house, to see if anything is missing.” She could read the refusal in his expression. “It might help determine what Viktor is thinking, what he might do next.”

  “This isn’t something you should see, Julia.” He held her by her upper arms. “I promise you, s
omething like this will stay with you forever.”

  “I won’t look at Trip,” he was shaking his head at her, “I promise. Just at the room, the situation.” She felt on the verge of tears and she knew she couldn’t let that happen. “I need to do something to right this.”

  “This isn’t your fault, Julia.”

  “It might not be my fault but I can’t help feeling that if I hadn’t been so dense, if I had read the files more carefully, this could have been prevented.” She tugged gently on his coat lapels. “Please, Mitch. Let me do what I can.”

  Mitch took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Your father is going to kill me.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  Mitch waved the police officer away and together he and Julia entered the house.

  The entry into the house was a twenty-five foot wide hallway with curved stairs on each side leading up to a second floor landing about midway the depth of the house. Just past the right hand stairs double doors opened into the library. The officer who had met them at the front door glanced up from his notebook. He shot a dark look in Mitch’s direction. Another policeman was photographing everything in the room. Trip lay sprawled, face down, on the floor in front of a well worn leather wing backed chair. A cut crystal highball glass had rolled about a foot from where he laid, a trail of liquid across the carpet marking its trajectory.

  Julia averted her gaze from Trip’s body. She didn’t want to see how he had died. Instead she started with the bookcases where he housed his antique book collection. Nothing seemed amiss there. Her gaze traveled on to the open areas within the paneled shelving designed to display paintings. She was looking for the Valentin Serov. The gallery lighting of the empty niche made its absence more profoundly obvious.

  Here, then, was irrefutable proof that Viktor Letov was behind the theft of the other Russian art. Julia felt a rush of adrenaline but she made herself focus and continued to mentally catalogue all the other items in the room. The Jan Brueghel the Younger pastoral was in its rightful place as was the portrait of a young woman thought to be the work of Rose-Adelaide Ducreux.