A Dangerous Inheritance

by Leona Karr

  Josh tried the door, but it was locked. “I don’t think I can budge this one,” he said as he eyed the thick panels.

  Stacy reached into her purse. “The lawyer gave me this ring of keys. Maybe one of these will work.”

  The first two keys he tried didn’t fit the lock, but the third one turned with a rewarding click. He cautiously opened the door, and they waited for a few seconds to make sure it wasn’t booby-trapped. Then they walked in.

  “I don’t believe it!” Stacy said in a stunned voice. After the ugly debacle in the rest of the place, the furnished apartment at the front of the building was a total shock.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Josh muttered in total surprise.

  Stacy walked around the rooms in a trance. Walls had been torn out to open up the spacious areas of a living room, dining alcove and modern kitchenette. The decor was definitely masculine: the walnut furniture was dark and heavy, plain beige drapes hung at the windows, and brown carpeting covered the floors throughout. All the pictures were prints of western scenes. No personal effects were visible in any of the rooms, and closets and drawers were empty. Even the bathroom was void of towels, soap and shower mat.

  There was a telephone, and a blessed hum met Stacy’s ears when she checked the line. Good. Now she’d be able to call the car rental company, tell them what had happened and find out what she should do.

  She wondered if the lawyer had arranged for her uncle’s possessions to be boxed and stored somewhere. It was as if the apartment had been stripped of everything belonging to an earlier occupant. Even though there was an eerie emptiness in the dusty rooms, Stacy couldn’t hold back the tears of relief. Thank God, she’d found livable quarters.

  Josh’s reaction was at the opposite end of the scale. Up until now, he’d been certain that Stacy would have to find accommodations in Timberlane whether she wanted to or not.

  As he stared out a glass door at the wrought-iron balcony, his chest tightened. The thought of any unprotected woman living in this abhorrent place alarmed him.

  “Well, I guess that settles it,” he heard Stacy say in a relieved tone as she came out of the bedroom. “I can stay here and be very comfortable while I see to the renovations and arrange for—”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he interrupted her. “You should ask for legal permission to live elsewhere. At least, until you get some security measures put in place.”

  “There’s a good lock on this door.”

  “But what about the rest of the place? Anybody could wander in, night or day. It’s not safe for a woman to be staying here alone.” He glanced once more at the balcony. “Not safe at all.”

  “Josh, I’m not Glenda,” she said quietly, reading his thoughts.

  “No, and I’m hoping you have a lot more sense than she did.” He softened his tone. “Stacy, the whole stability of the building is in question—ceilings, walls, floors and the like. The entire place should be condemned and be done with it.”

  “Thanks for your opinion. I’ll keep it in mind, but for the moment, I think I’ll bring my bags up from the lobby and get settled in.” She headed out the door and started down the stairs.

  As he kept pace with her, he argued. “That ceiling beam that nearly crushed our skulls could be a warning that all kinds of accidents are waiting to happen.” If it was an accident, he added to himself.

  “I have enough sense not to expose myself to unnecessary danger.”

  “If you have a choice.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted truthfully. “I just don’t like the vibrations in this place.”

  She nodded. “After what happened to Glenda, I can understand that. But my circumstances are different. Once the renovations are completed, I’ll get rid of the place and be free to get on with my life. I appreciate your concern, really I do.” As she looked at him, their eyes caught on some undefined emotional level that made them both look away quickly.

  They had just reached the lower floor when sounds at the front door reached them. The light they’d left on in the party room dissipated the shadows in the foyer, and as the door opened they could see clearly the stocky, middle-aged man who stepped inside.

  Dressed in a brown uniform, he wore a badge and a gun holster hung on one side. Giving his western hat a tilt backward, he centered a pair of probing eyes on them. “They told me at the Pantry that you two had been in earlier.”

  “That’s right, Sheriff,” Josh said, forcing himself to use a civil tone. “What can we do for you?”

  His ruddy face deepened. “I think you got it all wrong, young fellow. I’m here to see what I can do for…Miss Ashford, isn’t it?” He held out a weathered hand. “Mighty pleased to meet you. Sheriff Mosley.”

  Stacy murmured a polite response, conscious of the hostility vibrating between the two men as strong as a head wind.

  “Is that a key to the front door?” Josh asked abruptly as the sheriff fingered it with one of his hands.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” He scowled. “It’s really none of your business, Josh, but I’ve been seeing to the property at the request of this lady’s lawyer, Mr. Doughty.”

  “Is that why Chester and Rob have had the run of the place? They were inside when we got here this morning.”

  Stacy intervened quickly, trying to head off a building confrontation. “I understand that the two men were employed by Uncle Willard. I want to get the place in saleable shape as quickly as possible, and they seemed to be receptive to working for me.”

  “I’m sure they would, ma’am. They aren’t the smartest yahoos in the world, but pretty good with their hands. Of course, there’s a need for someone to supervise them.”

  “That would be me,” Josh stated, ignoring the slight intake of Stacy’s breath. “I happen to be free right now.”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe Miss Ashford ought to take a little time before making any decisions.” Then he added, as if Josh was responsible for any lack of judgment on her part, “I heard she spent the night at your place last night.”

  “Yes, I did,” Stacy answered herself, irritated that the sheriff was talking about her as if she weren’t there. Caught in an undercurrent between these two men, her temper flared. “I wrecked my car in the storm, as you probably know.”

  She’d bet that Marci, Alice and Ted had spread the story faster than a television news bulletin. The whole town probably knew that Weird Willy’s heir was here to claim her inheritance and handsome Josh Spencer already had her in tow. “I appreciate your concern, Sheriff, but I assure you that I’m more than capable of handling my affairs.”

  “And I welcome the chance to have myself a look into some of the things that Renquist might have left—before he took off,” Josh said, warming to the idea even as he spoke.

  “Renquist had nothing to do with your sister’s death,” the sheriff snapped. “Everything that went on here was within the law.”

  “Whose law?” Josh challenged. “Yours?”

  Mosley slammed his right hand on his gun as if warning Josh that he was stepping into dangerous waters.

  Stacy quickly intervened. “I appreciate your coming, Sheriff. I assure you that everything is under control.”

  “I’ll be dropping by again,” he promised, sending Josh a threatening look.

  “Yes, do that, Sheriff,” Stacy responded politely. Even though she didn’t like the man’s abrasive manner, she certainly wasn’t going to buy into Josh’s hostility.

  “What in heaven’s name was that all about?” she demanded after the sheriff left.

  “I just can’t stomach the way Mosley blew Glenda’s death off,” Josh responded angrily. “He didn’t even pretend to investigate, and he promptly declared it a suicide. I’m convinced he told Malo Renquist to disappear until the thing blew over. I believe the two of them were hand-in-glove when Renquist owned the place. Mosley probably lined his pockets, looking the other way when illegal stuff was g
oing on.”

  “I can appreciate your feelings, Josh, but I rather resent playing the part of a Ping-Pong ball between the two of you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Josh apologized. “You’re right. No need to draw you into the history between us. I guess I just wanted to warn him that you weren’t without some protection.”

  “Is that why you lied about working for me?”

  “Partly.” He hesitated, and then added, “I’m exactly the guy you need for the job. I’ve had experience, supervising a crew that built the cabins and the facilities in our campground. Repairing the bridge is going to take a few weeks so I have time on my hands.”

  “But you loathe this place.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “And you have responsibilities of your own. What about your grandfather?”

  He waved aside the question. “Do you want to offer me the job or not?”

  Her heart leaped with sudden relief. “Of course, the job is yours if you want it, but why are you even thinking about taking it?”

  As she searched his intense, somber eyes, sudden warmth curled within her. In a moment of wild fantasy, she imagined him confessing, I have to stay. I can’t leave you here alone.

  Thoughtfully, he focused on some point beyond her. “When I was sparring with the sheriff, I realized what I was saying was true. Renquist left in a hurry, even before Glenda’s body was discovered early in the morning. No telling what the bastard might have left behind. If I could find out what was going on here when Glenda lost her life, I might learn where Renquist is hiding out. I’ve talked to the state authorities, and if I can provide them with any reasonable validation for them to open the case, they will.”

  “I see,” Stacy said as evenly as she could. Looking at him, she saw a man driven by a vendetta. Thank heavens, he had no way of knowing the direction her thoughts had gone when he’d asked to stay. If he even had a hint that she’d put his intentions on a personal level, he’d regard her as one of those needy females who were ready to play upon a man’s sympathy. Since pride was about all she had left in this situation, she certainly wasn’t going to let him stomp all over it.

  “Well, what do you think?” He gave her that rare, disarming smile of his. “Am I hired?”

  “Since I don’t have any idea of the scope of the work to be done, I’d be willing to let you evaluate the job, and then we’ll decide,” she responded in a fairly professional tone.

  “Fair enough.” He picked up her suitcases and the lunch sack from where they had left them earlier. “I’ll see you settled upstairs, and then I’ll head back to town.”

  “All right,” she said gratefully.

  “I should be able to arrange for someone to move in with Gramps for the time being and pick up some things I’ll be needing,” he told her as they walked upstairs to the apartment. “You’ll be all right here by yourself, won’t you?”

  “I don’t need a baby-sitter, Mr. Spencer…nor a bodyguard,” she answered testily. “In fact, there’s no reason why you can’t drive back and forth if you’d rather. As you know, this place isn’t very livable.” She wanted to make it clear that her uncle’s apartment was single occupancy.

  He chuckled. “Well now, I think I’ll be able to find a spare bed somewhere.” Did she really think he was intent on bedding down with her? Complicating matters with a romantic entanglement certainly wasn’t on his agenda. She was attractive enough, but he’d back off in a split second if he saw things heading that way.

  “Shall I wait for you?” she asked when he handed her the lunch bag.

  “No. I’ll catch something at home.” He headed toward the door. “Lock it after me, and I’ll knock when I get back. Probably before dark.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Take as much time as you need.”

  After he left, the realization that she was totally alone mocked the brave words she’d flung at Josh. The apartment floor squeaked with every step, and every breath she drew seemed to echo in the vacant rooms. Practical problems began to surface in her mind.

  Where am I going to get the money to furnish a place like this?

  The apartment was empty of bed linens, towels, and a dozen other household necessities. She’d put a few things in storage before she left L.A., but she’d disposed of everything else. It had never crossed her mind that her uncle had stripped the hotel.

  Taking her one towel out of her suitcase, she headed toward the bathroom with her vanity bag of cosmetics and a change of clothes. Grateful for hot water and an electric wall heater that glowed at the touch of a switch, she stripped and let the gentle massaging of a shower ease some of the tense muscles in her arms and back.

  She had just slipped on a clean pair of jeans and striped knit top and returned to the living room when she heard the far-off rumbling of thunder. She went quickly to the glass door that opened onto the balcony and peered through the dusty glass.

  “Oh, not again,” she groaned. Swirling dark clouds were descending into the high mountain valley, threatening another storm.

  She took the car rental papers out of her purse and went to the telephone, wondering how on earth she could clearly explain to the company what had happened.

  After introducing herself to the clerk who answered the phone, Stacy simply said, “I rented a car from you yesterday afternoon, and I’ve had an accident.”

  “How bad?” the lady asked, concerned.

  “I wasn’t hurt, but the car isn’t driveable. I bought insurance so the damages should be covered.”

  “Why didn’t you report this earlier?”

  As succinctly as she could, Stacy explained what had happened, and why she was just now reporting the accident. “The car is still resting against a bridge at a turnoff to the Spencer campground.” She gave the approximate mileage from Timberlane.

  “I see,” the woman said in a tone that told Stacy she really didn’t. “I guess we’ll have to send a tow truck and bring it back to Denver for the insurance adjuster to take a look at it. There’ll be papers to sign. Where can we send them?”

  “I’ll be at the Haverly Hotel,” Stacy replied as if it were a perfectly legitimate accommodation.

  “And the address?”

  “I don’t know for sure. It’s in the mountains west of Timberlane.” She should have asked Josh about mail delivery before she made the call.

  “And your telephone number?”

  “I’m not sure. You’ll have to get the number from information.”

  There was a long pause at the other end of the line. The woman was obviously totally confused, and after a few more questions that only elicited vague answers from Stacy, the woman hung up.

  Restless, Stacy drew the drapes over the glass door and adjoining windows. Thankful that she was warm and safe, she lay down on the couch. Josh’s willingness to stay and oversee the renovation was a godsend. Even if he was only taking the job because of a personal vendetta, she drew on the reassurance that he was moving into the hotel with her, and her stay would be less stressful.

  She closed her eyes, took several deep breaths to relax the tension in her body, and after her thoughts settled, she slipped into a deep sleep. When she awoke, the rain clouds had blown over, but it was already dusk, and the wind was getting stronger. She couldn’t believe that she’d nearly slept the day away.

  Josh’ll be here any minute, she told herself, trying to pretend that she felt perfectly at ease being alone. Her stomach protested missing lunch, so she sat down at the dining room table. The sack Josh had brought from the café contained a couple of barbecue beef sandwiches, some potato chips, apple pie and two cartons of milk. Maybe he’d be having supper with his grandfather before driving back to the hotel.

  She was finishing the last of her milk when she looked upward and nearly choked. A small crystal chandelier above the dining table was swaying slightly as if some unseen hand was moving it. The air in the apartment was still, without any movement to cause the tinkling of the dangling crystals. A moment later the swaying stoppe
d as suddenly as it had begun.

  I’m hallucinating. I have to be!

  She pushed away from the table and fought a rising impulse to flee the apartment. And go where? These rooms were the only sanctuary in the whole place. Beyond their walls lay darkened halls, echoing empty rooms, and threatening spaces. She was alone in the building, wasn’t she?

  It’s the storm. The wind. Shifting boards in an old building. That’s what made the chandelier crystals tinkle.

  When the hall door vibrated with a loud knock, she couldn’t move for a moment.

  “Stacy. Open the door. It’s me,” Josh called out. His arms were loaded with two sleeping bags, and he had a bulging backpack slung across his shoulders.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked anxiously when she opened the door, and he saw her ashen face.

  “I…I…” she stammered. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.” What would he think if she began blabbing about swaying chandeliers and shifting ceilings? He was already convinced that she wouldn’t be able to handle living here.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner. I brought a little bedding and food. I’ll unload the pickup in the morning.” He glanced into the dining room. “I see you had lunch.”

  She nodded and stared up at the chandelier.

  It was perfectly still.

  Chapter Four

  “I brought a few things to get us through tonight and breakfast,” Josh told her. The apartment cupboards were bare of food staples and the refrigerator was empty, but there were a few dishes, silverware, and pans. “We can do grocery shopping tomorrow.”

  Under different circumstances, Stacy would have been amused at the domesticity of the situation. Here she was, setting up housekeeping with a man she’d known less than twenty-four hours, and under the most unbelievable conditions. The more she thought about it, the more bizarre the whole situation—and Josh Spencer’s part in it—seemed. Was he really being totally up-front with her? His quickness in accepting the overseer’s job seemed suspect. Looking back, she wondered if the decision had really been all that spur-of-the-moment when he’d been verbally fencing with the sheriff. Had she been deftly handled from the moment he discovered she was the new owner of the Haverly Hotel?