Deadly Payoff

by Valerie Hansen

  Thoughtful, Delia walked to the window and looked down on the spacious estate grounds. Spring was in full bloom below, thanks to the ministrations of the groundskeepers and the special touches Aunt Winnie gave to her rose garden. Daffodils had faded but there were lush beds of lavender and blue pansies at the feet of tree peonies that would soon be heavy with pink-and-white blooms the size of grapefruits. The dark green and deep reds and purples of groupings of rhododendrons provided the perfect contrast. The grass had greened up nicely after the last snow of early spring, too, and was cut and edged so precisely it looked like green velvet from her upstairs vantage point.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. How could such a beautiful place feel so cold, so bleak, so uninviting? No matter how elegant the decor, no matter how delectable the food, no matter how welcoming the greetings from her aunt and sisters, Delia simply could not feel at home in Blanchard manor.

  She didn’t know exactly when her alienation had come to fruition but she knew when it had begun. The day her father had permanently ruined her marriage was the day she had closed her heart to anything pertaining to him or his lifestyle.

  She turned away from the window. “I shouldn’t be thinking of myself,” she muttered. “The past is beyond repair and there’s much more at stake here than whatever happiness I may have lost.” Her lips curled into a self-deprecating smile and made her chuckle. “Hey, when I’m right, I’m right. I just wish other people realized how smart I am.”

  But was she smart enough, Delia wondered, to figure out exactly what was going on? There was such a tangled web of lies surrounding her mother’s sad, wasted life she wondered if anyone would ever learn the whole truth. Maybe it shouldn’t matter at this late date. Then again, maybe it mattered more now than ever. If Trudy was alive, and if Genie had somehow been involved in the convoluted mysteries surrounding her family, there might be a chance that Erik Evans had some critical answers. The only way to find out was to track him down and make him talk.

  Pacing the floor of the guest room and mumbling to herself was getting Delia nowhere. Grabbing her cell phone she punched in the number for Murphy Woodworkers without conscious thought, then felt her heart speed when she realized what she’d done.

  Wow! That was scary. Apparently, her memory had retained Shaun’s old number from the days when she’d telephoned him constantly just to hear his deep, nerve-tingling voice. Truth to tell, she was every bit as eager to do so right now.

  When Ian answered, Delia pushed aside her disappointment and greeted him pleasantly. “Hello, Mr. Murphy. This is Delia Blanchard. I hate to bother you. May I please speak to Shaun?”

  “Good to hear from you, Delia,” the older man said. “How have you been?”

  “Fine, thanks. I was sorry to hear that you haven’t been well.”

  Ian chuckled. “Getting old isn’t for sissies. Hang on. Shaun’s around here somewhere. I’ll get him.”

  In seconds, the voice she had longed to hear said, “Hello?”

  Delia gripped the little phone more tightly. “Shaun?” Though she’d intended to come across as calm and collected, her anxiety immediately pushed to the forefront. “What’s taking you so long? I figured you’d call when you were ready to go so I could pick you up.”

  “You aren’t actually serious about us hitting the road together, are you?”

  “Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I be?” She heard unintelligible muttering on the other end of the line before Shaun’s clear, “Yes, Dad, I know, but…”

  “We’ll only be gone a few days at the most,” she reminded him. “My father said he’d compensate you as if you were working so you can assure Ian that your absence won’t hurt a thing.”

  “I already did.”

  “Then what’s the problem? The longer we delay, the less likely we’ll catch up to Evans.”

  “Do you honestly think you and I have a chance to succeed? Think about it, Delia. We’re novices. Even with the address you got from your father’s lawyers, our chances of finding the guy are slim to none. New York’s a big state. Besides, what makes you think he’d go back to his old neighborhood? If I were him, I wouldn’t.”

  “You wouldn’t because you’re intelligent,” she said. “I hate to be judgmental but I don’t think Erik Evans is too bright.”

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t crafty. Even wild animals are smart enough to avoid traps.”

  “True, assuming there isn’t a bigger picture that we’re not seeing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Delia paused, deciding to speak her mind. “I’ve been giving this whole messed-up situation a lot of thought, Shaun. Suppose I was meant to run into Evans at Aunt Genie’s the way I did? And suppose your work at the house was delayed just so you’d be there to rescue me from him? The whole chain of events seems pretty far-fetched otherwise.”

  “Coincidence. Things like that happen all the time.”

  “Not to me, they don’t. I’ve only recently realized that learning about my mother’s fate was the answer to my prayers. Very old prayers but prayers, just the same. I’m beginning to think I only glimpsed a hint of the answer that’s coming. Maybe all these other things are part of a larger whole.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you see the hand of God in all this?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m keeping an open mind. The way I see it, anything that makes my father admit his mistakes and brings him to Pastor Greg for counseling has to border on the miraculous.”

  “Now there, we agree.” Shaun paused and blew out a noisy breath. “Okay. It won’t take me long to throw a few things into a duffel bag and hit the ATM.”

  The notion of spending the night near Shaun, even though she knew they wouldn’t actually be together, gave Delia the kind of tickly shivers she got just before tackling a dangerous wave.

  “Don’t worry about expenses,” she told him. “We’ll have Father’s credit card for gas and lodging so we’ll be able to afford nice rooms.”

  She heard him coughing for a few seconds before he managed an insistent, “Separate rooms.”

  “Of course. What did you think?”

  Shaun cleared his throat. “Believe me, Delia,” he said hoarsely, “you don’t want to know the half of what I think.”

  She’s leaving town. Good. The less I have to do with her the better. She’s a smart one. Clever. Too clever. The next thing you know she’ll be asking questions about things that are none of her business. Private things. Special things that are mine, alone. He listens to her too much. Lets her get away with treating him disrespectfully. That can’t be tolerated. It simply will not do. I won’t allow it.

  But first things first. While Delia’s gone and can’t interfere, can’t spoil it, there’s something I need to take care of.

  With a snide smile the plotter added, Later I’ll deal with little Delia. She may think she has the upper hand but she won’t win. I’ve been patient so far. I can wait. I’ll take care of her in due time.

  Shaun was surprised when Delia arrived at the cabinet shop in her father’s sleek, black SUV instead of her rental car. He was even more surprised when she deferred to him and changed seats to let him drive.

  “This is quite a vehicle,” he said, fastening his shoulder belt.

  “Taking it was my father’s idea. I refused to accept one of the town cars so he insisted we use this.”

  “It’s substantial. That’s good. The car you’ve been driving is pretty wimpy in comparison.”

  He was thinking of defensive driving. When Delia didn’t seem to catch on, he dropped the subject. It was just as well that she wasn’t aware of her obvious vulnerability the way he and her father were. That was why he had agreed to accompany her on this wild-goose chase. Delia needed watching, protecting, and he was just the man to do it.

  Shaun smiled to himself. She’d be indignant if she suspected how fragile he thought she was. Yes, she was strong and athletic, for a woman, but she was still female and therefore no physic
al match for a man, let alone one as burly as Erik Evans. Even if the guy fought fair, which wasn’t likely, he could easily overpower Delia. The notion of her becoming Evans’s victim turned Shaun’s stomach and made him grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Fine. Why?”

  Her laugh echoed inside the SUV. “Because you’re holding that wheel like you’re trying to strangle it. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have given you the keys. Relax. I know you’re a good driver.”

  Memory tied Shaun’s gut in an even bigger knot. It wasn’t Delia’s fault, of course. She couldn’t possibly suspect why her innocent praise had cut so deeply. Nobody but Ian knew the whole story and he’d never have told anyone else, least of all Delia.

  Still, her comment stung. Good driver? Sure. Tell that to his buddies, especially the ones who hadn’t made it back to the barracks after…

  Shaun gritted his teeth and tried to force remembrances of that life-changing night to the back of his mind. He’d been over and over the details, always hoping he’d find a way to excuse himself. He never had. Everybody made mistakes. It just wasn’t every mistake that cost people’s lives the way his had.

  Friends weren’t the only things he’d lost on those night maneuvers. Shaun had lain in the wreckage of the personnel carrier, covered with mud and the blood of his hurt and dying comrades, and had prayed for their deliverance with all his heart. He had lived, yes, but not all of the others had.

  Army docs had insisted he was merely suffering from survivor’s guilt and would recover. Well, Delia could pretend all she wanted that a benevolent Heavenly Father cared what happened on Earth. Shaun knew better. He had buried his faith with his friends. It wasn’t himself he no longer trusted. It was God.

  Delia forced herself to keep quiet while Shaun brooded. She’d seen him do it before and recognized the signs. This time, however, she was totally at a loss to figure out what had triggered his moodiness. It couldn’t be their situation. As far as she could tell, he had accepted their bizarre reasons for banding together pretty well.

  That thought almost made her smile in spite of her companion’s dour expression. Whatever Shaun’s feelings were, they had to be more settled than hers. Being this close to him for hours had left her as uneasy as if she had accidentally waded into a floating school of poisonous jellyfish. The likelihood of stinging, lingering pain was great in either situation and the longer she stayed, the greater the risk. Like her emotions, the gelatinous creatures drifted just below the surface, unseen but definitely a presence to be reckoned with.

  Finally, she decided to try to improve Shaun’s mood, for her own sake as much as his. “So,” she said brightly, “are we there yet?”

  He cast her a sullen look. “Not hardly.”

  “That’s what I figured. Mind if I call home and check with Aunt Winnie to see if she’s heard anything? There’s no point continuing if Father’s fancy detectives have already located Evans.”

  “Why ask me? I’m just your bodyguard, remember?”

  “Point taken—grumpy.” Delia pushed the speed dial on her cell phone and plugged her opposite ear with a fingertip while she listened to the ringing.

  To her surprise, her eldest sister answered with an uncharacteristically breathless, “Hello?”

  “Miranda?”

  “Oh, Delia, I’m so glad you called! Something terrible has happened.”

  “What’s wrong? You sound awful.” As she spoke she made eye contact with Shaun and answered his quizzical look with an arch of her brow and a quick shrug. “It’s not Aunt Winnie, is it? Tell me she’s okay.”

  “She’s fine,” Miranda said. “Grandfather Howard had some kind of spell. We thought he was going to die. Peg gave him first aid while we waited for the paramedics.”

  “Are they still there?”

  “No. Everybody followed the ambulance to the hospital. Except Peg, that is. She rode with Grandfather.”

  To Delia’s relief, Shaun had pulled the SUV to the curb and stopped. She got out to pace the sidewalk while she spoke with Miranda. Shaun joined her.

  “Peg’s been his nurse for ages,” Delia said, frowning. “She should know what was wrong with him. What did she say?” “Nothing. She looked as worried as the rest of us. It was so frightening. He was breathing hard and sweating and shaking all over. I heard one of the paramedics say Grandfather’s heart was racing and I think he passed out right after that happened.”

  Those symptoms reminded Delia of her sister’s tendency toward panic attacks and she didn’t want her questions to further agitate Miranda and push her past the limits of her own self-control. “So, we know he’s in good hands now,” Delia said soothingly. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m still a little shaky, but who wouldn’t be, under the circumstances?” She sighed. “I’m just glad you were spared witnessing Grandfather’s collapse.

  Delia smiled to herself. It was just like Miranda to want to protect her younger siblings from anything traumatic. “How long ago did all this trouble start?”

  “It had to be around one o’clock. Barbara Sanchez had stopped by to have lunch with Father, Aunt Winnie and me. After Sonya had finished serving our main course, she went upstairs to take Grandfather his usual cup of tea and found him in distress. That’s all I know.”

  “Where was Peg? She’s supposed to watch him.”

  “We can’t expect her to sit with him every second,” Miranda said. “I think she was having lunch in the kitchen with Sonya.”

  Delia checked her watch. “Okay. I imagine it will be a while longer before the doctors know anything. I’ll check with the hospital and see. Do you have the number handy?” She motioned to Shaun and he produced a pen and paper.

  Delia jotted down the number of Stoneley Memorial Hospital, then said, “Got it. Okay. I’ll call later and get a report.”

  Actually, call me on my cell,” Miranda said. “We should probably keep this line free in case somebody else wants to get in touch with me.”

  Delia let out a deep, shuddering breath. “This is just so awful.”

  “It was. But there are some things we can’t change. Grandfather’s condition has been getting worse and worse lately, in spite of the best medical treatment money can buy. We have to accept that. And remember, Grandfather is in God’s hands.”

  “You’re right. It’s just hard to imagine this house without him upstairs, cursing and ranting all the time.” Delia paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know he can’t help what the Alzheimer’s disease is doing to his mind and body.”

  “No more than the rest of us can help our natural reactions to the cruel things he says and does,” Miranda concurred.

  Delia’s thoughts were whirling. “Tell everybody I’ll be home as soon as possible. And in case no one else has done it, why don’t you notify Pastor Greg? He’ll want to know. Ask him to start the prayer chain, too.”

  “I should have thought of that,” her sister said, clearly berating herself for the oversight.

  “With all the excitement, it’s a wonder I did.” Delia bade her sister a fond goodbye and flipped the little phone closed before she looked at Shaun. His expression was unreadable, particularly because he had donned reflective sunglasses that hid his eyes.

  “I take it Howard is ill,” he said, starting to place his arm around her shoulders then hesitating as if he’d suddenly changed his mind.

  “Yes. He’s apparently having some kind of health crisis. They’ve taken him to the hospital in an ambulance.”

  “I’m sorry. Something else seems to be weighing on you. Want to talk about it?”

  She decided she did. Very much. “I just can’t help thinking what a waste his life has been.” She sniffled in spite of her determination to remain emotionally in control. “It’s so sad.”

  “Howard Blanchard’s life was wasted? I doubt many people would agree with you there. He built a thriving business and your
father is continuing to expand it. Most folks envy them.”

  Delia raised her gaze to meet and hold his, willing him to understand what she was just beginning to grasp, herself. “The success of Blanchard Fabrics has nothing to do with it, except maybe where it warped their personalities and skewed their values,” Delia said. “He and my father are two of the most miserable men I’ve ever known. They may have more money than they know what to do with but they haven’t a clue about what’s really important.”

  “I imagine they’d both disagree with you.”

  “Undoubtedly. But, ‘All that glisters is not gold.’”

  “Shakespeare?”

  “Of course. Merchant of Venice. I think what it means is what I was trying to explain. A lot of things that seem important and worthwhile may be utterly superficial. My family’s money is like that. Father and Grandfather have never understood that the love of their family, for instance, is worth far more than whatever they gained from all that time they spent at work. They virtually ignored everybody else. I don’t know what my sisters and I would have done without Aunt Winnie’s love and moral support.”

  Shaun gave her hand a brief squeeze and Delia returned the gesture, grieving for her grandfather in her own way.

  “I’d forgotten how you always seem to have a Shakespearian quote for every occasion,” he said fondly.

  “Umm. I suppose you’re right.”

  Thankful beyond words for Shaun’s support when she was battling such mixed emotions, Delia stepped into his embrace, closed her eyes and laid her cheek on his chest. She could hear the strong beating of his heart and his even breathing. If she could have stood there, sheltered in Shaun’s arms, for hours and hours she would have.

  When her subconscious suddenly dredged up a meaningful scripture from the fifth chapter of The Song of Solomon instead of the usual snippet of Shakespeare, she wisely chose to keep the biblical quotation to herself.