by Leslie Caine
over with fast, so I won't take up any more of your time,
okay?"
"Lead the way," Sullivan said, gesturing to the door.
Asia must have seen us approach, because she opened
the door as we were still starting to make our way up her
steps. "What are you doing here? Is this an energyconsumption intervention or something?"
Ignoring her remark, Burke said, "I asked Erin and
Steve to meet me here and act as mediators." He paused,
but when she said nothing, he pulled a trifolded sheet of
paper out of his inner jacket pocket and held it out to
her. "I typed up a friendly little proposal. It says that I will
take down the windmill from my property in exchange
for your removing any and all obstacles from the border
268 L e s l i e C a i n e
between our properties. Including those in the pond and
the webbing itself."
"Let me read it for myself. Wait here." She went into
her house and shut the door.
"Was your desk delivered this morning, Burke?" I
asked.
"I hope so. Matthew said he'd deliver it no later than
ten, but I had to take off before nine. I left a note telling
them to remove its packaging and recycle the materials,
and to leave the desk on the porch."
"Out in the open?" I asked in alarm.
"Why not?" Burke replied. "The sky's clear as a bell,
and my house is in the middle of nowhere."
That was true, but the idea of a custom-made desk left
on someone's porch still made me nervous. Obviously
Burke didn't share my concerns, however, and it was his
property. "We should inspect the desk, since we're here,"
I said to Steve.
Burke rolled his eyes. "The three of us could probably
head over there right now, move it into place, write a
couple of letters, and return, all before Asia will open her
door again."
But Asia came outside right then. "Fine. I signed it.
Just add your initials to my handwritten codicil, and
you've got a deal."
Burke puzzled over her handwriting for a few moments, then said to us, "We have until noon next
Saturday to take down our windmill and our fence, respectively." He initialized the document. "Which is fine
by me. I can have workers here Monday morning to dismantle the windmill."
"In which case I'll get the fence down on Tuesday,"
Asia replied.
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 269
"Great. I'm glad we could--" She shut her door.
"Always such a pleasant woman," Sullivan remarked.
We walked to our cars. Burke was grinning. "I'm sure
she'll be ecstatic when she finds out I sold my windmill
to Darren Campesio. And that I talked him into building
a third."
"You did?" I couldn't help but grin as well.
He laughed and nodded. "She can do what she wants
to Darren's fence. It isn't visible from my property, and
I'm sure Darren won't mind." He rubbed his hands together. "So, want to follow me and take a quick look at
the desk?"
"Absolutely."
He led the way.
We arrived a minute or two later and followed him up
the walkway. The three of us stood on his front porch, unabashedly admiring the gorgeous hand-crafted desk.
"It's a thing of beauty," Steve said. He sometimes designed furniture himself, and I had known this desk
would be totally to his taste.
"Wow!" Burke said. "I like this even better than the
one you showed me on Matthew's Web site." He pulled
out one of the drawers on the side, and then slid it back
into place. "It's great. You can open and close these drawers with one finger."
"It really is amazing," I said. "Let me show you the
joinery, Steve." I tried to open the kneehole drawer.
"Huh. This one drawer seems to be a little stuck," I muttered.
"Let me take a look," Sullivan said.
I tugged hard on the drawer. It slid open. A bracket
had been fastened to the bottom of the drawer, and just
in front of it, a ball-like object attached to a string was
270 L e s l i e C a i n e
vibrating. The action of my tugging the drawer open
must have dislodged the ball from where it was wedged.
But why was it there in the first place?
My brain took forever to make the connection, but
Burke's reactions were faster. He yelled, "It's a grenade!"
c h a p t e r 2 2
he bracket had kept the safety clamped down, and
Tmy opening the drawer had pulled the grenade
loose! The next thing I knew, Burke was pushing me off
his porch and into the snowbank. He dove on top of me,
his glasses flying off his face in the process.
"Steve!" I yelled, twisting around and struggling to get
out from under Burke. "Run!"
Despite my warning, I watched in horror as he
reached into the desk. "No!" I yelled. But he grabbed the
grenade and yanked it free from the string. He threw the
grenade onto the ice that covered the pond. It skittered to
272 L e s l i e C a i n e
a stop as it caught on the chain of water toys that Asia had
strung together. An instant later, it exploded.
Although I automatically ducked and covered my
head, the blast was small and just distant enough that
nothing hit any of us. A few seconds afterwards, I was staring at the pond, which had been instantly cleared of ice
in spectacular fashion.
Steve looked pale and shocked. He jumped off the
porch and helped me to my feet, leaving Burke to scramble to his feet by himself. "Are you all right, Erin?"
"I'm fine. Probably a little bruised is all."
"That was really quick thinking, Steve," Burke said as
he retrieved his glasses. "Thank you!"
Asia came running toward the pond. She gaped at the
pond, the ice now blown to bits and the water toys in fragments. She put her hands on her hips and cried, "I just
got through telling you I'd take this stuff down! You didn't
need to blow it up!"
"I didn't mean to," Burke said. "Somebody just tried to
kill me with a grenade!"
"But they missed and hit the pond?"
"No. I'll explain later."
"Fine. You can explain when you're reimbursing me
for all the toys you just destroyed!" She spun on her heel
and marched back toward her house. "Along with any
dead fish!"
"I'll just give her five bucks and call it even," Burke
muttered.
My heart was still pounding. "Thank you, Steve." I
had such a strong desire to throw myself into his arms
that I didn't dare even meet his gaze.
"Cripes!" Burke cried, looking at the desk. "Matthew
Hayes booby-trapped my desk so he could kill me! Or
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 273
else someone rigged the thing while it was sitting out on
my front porch."
"We have to call the police to investigate," Steve said.
"I'm sure as hell not moving that thing into my house
until a bomb squad examines it." Burke eyed the desk
suspiciously as he fished his cell phone out of his pocket.
"I'm going to call the police right now."
Sul
livan and I exchanged glances. "Here we go
again," he said under his breath. Another police report
meant spending our Saturday waiting around and answering the same predictable questions over and over
again. "Erin and I were on our way to lunch." He removed a business card from his wallet. "Just give the police one of these and tell them how they can reach us as
witnesses."
"Will do," Burke said, pocketing the card. He then
said into the phone, "Yeah, hi. My name is Dr. Burke
Stratton. Someone tried to kill me just now with a
grenade. It was hooked up to explode when I opened my
desk."
That will get their attention, I thought, as Steve and I
strode purposefully to his van. Though we let it go unsaid, neither of us wanted to give the dispatcher the
chance to instruct Burke to keep us there until the police
arrived. The call would probably go directly to Detective
O'Reilly's desk, and he would not appreciate our leaving
the scene. Yet there wasn't one iota of information we
could tell the investigators that Burke couldn't tell them
as well.
"Now someone's trying to bomb us," Sullivan muttered the instant we were in the van.
"Who knew interior design was such a dangerous profession?"
274 L e s l i e C a i n e
We both laughed. "This explains our high insurance
premiums." He pulled onto the road. As our nervous levity evaporated, he said, "I hope Burke didn't plant the
grenade himself."
"No way. He was standing right there beside us. He
could have gotten killed himself!"
"True. Unless he wanted to divert suspicion from himself . . . assuming the calculated risk of injury."
Refusing to let this conversation devolve into yet another argument, I squeezed his arm and said, "Thank you
for saving our lives. So where are you taking me for
lunch?"
He smiled at me. "I was hoping you hadn't already
made lunch plans. Since we're stuck going to that hokey
awards ceremony on a Saturday night, let's pull all the
stops and go to the Lookout."
"Yum!" And whee! In no time flat, my day had gone
from a grenade nearly exploding in my face to an unplanned meal with Steve at my favorite restaurant. Now
if we could somehow just get our romance back on track,
the trauma of the day would be well worthwhile.
That evening, the big event that would draw this ill-
fated contest to an end was finally at hand. I was wearing
the old standby--a little black silk dress and stilettos--as
I mingled at the Earth Love rotunda in their courtyard.
The bar was strictly nonalcoholic--a selection of sodas
and mineral waters were on tap and served in glass tumblers. The catering staff bustled around with trays of appetizers--all organic and vegetarian--and stacks of small
white ceramic plates were stacked at the ready. The only
disposable items were the off-white paper napkins, made
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 275
from recycled paper, and the unadorned toothpicks
jabbed into the appetizers.
The building itself was a sparkling glass geodesic
dome. It was also a greenhouse, and so well designed that
the vegetation inside was almost self-sustaining. The
lines and angles of the dome itself were compelling, but
keeping all that glass clean seemed a nightmare task.
Steve and I had enjoyed a wonderful lunch before the
day took another nosedive: Detective O'Reilly called first
Steve's cell, then mine. O'Reilly had vindictively separated the two of us, then held us hostage at the police station all afternoon. For my part, most of the time was
spent alone in a tiny interview room, where I knew officers could watch me through the one-way glass mirror. I
knew O'Reilly wanted me to complain so he could snap
at me for leaving the scene, so I'd been the picture of patience and spent three hours accomplishing nothing.
Sullivan was waiting for me afterwards, but by then we
were both in foul moods, and had to rush home to get
dressed and drive to the ceremony separately.
I vowed not to waste even more time thinking about it
now. I had to focus on working the room, something of a
job requirement in my occupation. After my horrid afternoon, that was a tall order, especially considering that the
strongest ingredient in my beverage was its lemon twist,
and there were some two or three hundred attendees in
this particular room.
Burke Stratton spotted me, waved, and headed toward
me. He looked handsome in his black tailored suit and
red silk tie. Every few people he brushed past stopped
him for a friendly exchange, wishing him luck, of which
he would need plenty in order to win. Luck, plus a better
basement, I mused wryly.
276 L e s l i e C a i n e
"Hi, Erin. Did things go okay for you at the police station?" Burke asked solicitously.
So he'd heard that the police had insisted that I come
in. "Fine."
"Did you learn anything?"
"Nothing about possible suspects or motives, no. Just
that Detective O'Reilly's first name is Phil."
"That's . . . not exactly useful information to me."
"Nor to me." The subject had come up when I objected to how O'Reilly had shaken his head and said,
"Erin, Erin." I promptly asked him what his first name
was, and, when he answered, tried to demonstrate how
condescending he'd been. But O'Reilly had acted pleasantly surprised by my question. It had crossed my mind
that Sullivan might be right about the detective's having a crush on me after all. But the notion was quickly
proved wrong by O'Reilly's harsh treatment of me from
there on.
Burke's sigh brought me out of my reverie. "Do I have
a snowball's chance in hell of winning this contest?"
"Oh, sure." Just no better of a chance than that, I
silently added. "Audrey can be unpredictable."
"Enough to award a house that we all know will be a
pile of rubble inside of ten years?"
"I doubt it."
He grimaced and scanned the room. "Figures Earth
Love would be so health-conscious that they wouldn't
serve alcohol."
I finally located Steve, who was chatting with a bevy of
women across the room. He looked gorgeous in a wool
pinstripe suit, obviously hand-tailored. He grinned in my
direction and started to make his way toward me. Just
then I also spotted Jennifer Fairfax standing by the door,
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 277
scanning the room. She, too, was dressed to the nines,
her blond hair in an attractive updo, wearing a shimmering coppery dress that looked great on her. She spotted
Steve, and I could tell by simple triangulation that she
was going to reach him before he'd reach me.
Fortunately, there was a sudden buzz in the room, giving me the perfect excuse to turn my back so I wouldn't
have to witness their rendezvous. Audrey, I saw, was approaching the stage, along with the top executives of
Earth Love.
A lengthy introduction required our clapping every
twenty seconds or so as one after another Earth Love affiliate or employee was thanked for their contribution.
Audrey finally took the micro
phone. She gave a gracious
prelude, thanking Earth Love effusively and speaking
glowingly of Richard and Walter's reputations and impact on the field of conservation. Though my cheeks
were burning, I was determined to remain focused on the
stage and not to turn and look at Sullivan with Miss
Manicured Hands-on.
To one side of me, I saw Darren Campesio, wearing a
tan corduroy suit, a green tie, and a cocky smile, edge
closer to the stage. He gave Audrey a little wave when she
glanced toward him, and she quickly looked away. She
wasn't looking in Burke's and my direction either, and although I hadn't located Margot, it was very easy to surmise that she'd won the competition.
"All three homes had wonderful features," Audrey
continued, "and all of the home owners and designers
are to be congratulated for jobs so very well done. After
giving the matter considerable thought, I felt that one
house was my favorite and best fulfilled all judging categories. The winner of the first annual Thayers-Emory
278 L e s l i e C a i n e
Green Home Award given by Earth Love is Margot
Troy."
Over the applause, Darren's grunt of disgust was so loud
it could easily have been heard halfway across the room.
Margot, standing a few yards away, emitted a little gasp, followed by a cry of delight. Jeremy kissed her and whispered
something in her ear, then joined in the applause. She
climbed the steps to the stage, where she gleefully accepted the three-by-five-foot check, along with a small
green glass trophy, no doubt made from recycled bottles.
Red-faced and wearing a furious glare, Darren made
his way over to Burke and me. "Mine's better," he
promptly said. "I've got the better efficiency ratings and
comfort and everything."
"Ah, give it a rest," Burke said. "Your house looks like
the top of a hollowed-out toadstool. You know it. I know
it. Audrey knows it. Nobody in their right mind would
want to live there."
"And your house is turning into a moldy toadstool.
You'd better do something about your drainage issues, or
it's going to smell like one, too, my friend."
Burke shot him a glare, but held his tongue.
I was still dying to turn around; Sullivan and Jennifer
had to be behind me, chatting each other up by now.
"Were you home around lunchtime today, Darren?" I
asked to distract myself.
"Er, I think so. Why?"
"I'm just surprised you didn't hear the explosion on
