by Becki Willis
“You mean at the end of my thirty-day imprisonment.”
“It’s not an imprisonment.”
“Says the man who is free to come and go at his leisure.”
“Are you saying you want me to cancel the appointment?”
Surprised—and pleased—that he offered to do so, Hannah blinked in surprise. “Uhm, no. No, that won’t be necessary.”
He ruined the moment by flashing his most charming smile. “Then we don’t have a problem, do we?”
The contractor drove a beat-up old truck with peeling paint and a slightly crooked, magnetic sign that identified his business as Jobs Done Right. Hannah thought he should have done a better job making his own first impression right. What if his rundown truck was a reflection of his workmanship? He might leave the cabin in worse shape than it was now.
Just the same, she followed Walker out to greet the carpenter. She wanted him to understand, right from the beginning, that he would be dealing with her, should he get the contract.
As the man crawled from the front seat of the truck, she felt Walker stiffen in surprise. “Who is that?” he muttered.
“Don’t you know him? You’re the one who called him!”
“I called Hank Ruby. That’s not Hank.”
They watched as a burly man stood outside the truck, preparing himself for the work ahead. He stuffed a pencil behind his right ear, tucked a measuring tape onto his cavernous overalls, and fumbled around on the dashboard until he came out with a clipboard. Adding a cap to his balding head and a flashlight to his pocket, he turned and saw he had an audience.
“Howdy, folks. Pretty place you got yourself here.”
Hannah trotted alongside Walker, trying to match his purposeful stride as he greeted the man, more or less. His voice was as hard as steel. “I was expecting Hank Ruby. He and I spoke on the telephone yesterday.”
“Ah, yeah, about that.” The man scratched at his head and offered a sheepish smile. “The wife and I are down from Wichita Falls, visiting her family. Cousin Hank woke up deadly sick this morning, don’t you know. Could barely lift his head off the pillow or his be-hind off the commode, if you’ll pardon the reference, ma’am.” He bobbed his head in Hannah’s direction. “I have a contracting business myself, don’t you know, so I offered to come for him. You don’t mind, do you?”
Walker’s hesitation was obvious. “As long as you take good notes and measurements,” he slowly agreed, “I don’t see why it would hurt.” He extended his hand. “Walker Jacoby, Attorney at Law. And this is Hannah Duncan, owner of the property.”
“Owner, eh? You and your husband, I reckon? Is he here, too?” The man craned his neck to look for him.
“I’m not married,” Hannah said, taking an immediate dislike to the man. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Pardon the manners. Harry’s sudden sickness threw me for a loop this morning,” the man chuckled. “Name’s Tinker. Everett Tinker.” He thrust out a big, sweaty hand that Hannah reluctantly shook.
“Harry?”
“No, ma’am, Everett. Everett Tinker.”
“You said Harry’s illness. I thought your cousin’s name was Hank.”
“Oh, right, right. It’s a nickname my wife had for her cousin when they were kids. He had long hair, don’t you know, back in the day.”
Hannah wondered why Walker regarded the man with a frown. Perhaps he didn’t like the contractor any more than she did.
The stranger didn’t notice. He peered into the bright sun as he surveyed the property. “Which one of these buildings are we tearing down? Looks like they all pretty much need it.”
“We aren’t tearing down any of them. We’re remodeling that third building there. But perhaps we should wait until Hank is feeling better.” Walker’s voice was tight.
“No, no, we’re fine. I can get you fixed right up. I can even start the work tomorrow morning, don’t you know.”
“That won’t be necessary. All we need today is a bid.”
Everett Tinker looked disappointed. His eyes roamed over the town again, zeroing in on the old inn. “I reckon that one is next on your list. I can work up a bid on that one, too, don’t you know.”
“Again, that won’t be necessary. Just the one.” Walker’s reply was cool and firm.
“Hey, you’re the boss.” The contractor flashed a big smile, revealing his aversion to dentists.
“Actually, Miss Duncan is the boss.”
The man had the audacity to chuckle. “Well, sure, she is.” He may as well have acknowledged she was the tooth fairy, for all the conviction in his voice.
Hannah stiffened immediately. Walker put a hand to her waist and leaned in to whisper, “Easy there, tiger.”
Leroy came bounding up from unknown parts, none too happy to find a stranger in their midst. He barked wildly, charging right up to the man in baggy overalls.
“He—He don’t bite, does he?” The large man visibly paled.
“Not with one of us around. But I don’t recommend dropping by, unannounced,” Walker was quick to warn. He reached out his other hand to quieten the dog. “Leroy. Sit.”
The shaggy white beast obeyed the command with obvious reluctance. He growled low in his throat, just to state his position on the matter. Hannah leaned into Walker and whispered out of the side of her mouth, “I agree with Leroy.”
The three of them walked down to the old storefront, Leroy close on their heels. Walker gave the carpenter a brief description of the work needing done.
Tinker squinted in the sunlight and stabbed a beefy finger toward the structure next door. “Might need to see one of the other cabins, don’t you know, so’s I can get a feel for what you’re looking for.”
After exchanging a look with Walker, Hannah shrugged and pulled out her keyring. Tinker grinned as they moved to the small cabin.
The carpenter poked through the space, opening doors and examining hinges, sliding out first one panel, then the next, testing the sturdiness of a wall or the bottom of a drawer. He had even looked under the bed.
“Mighty fine workmanship in here,” he commented at last.
“Thank you,” Walker said stiffly.
“Hank did this, did he?” When Tinker ran his hand under the edge of the bar, Hannah hoped he came out with a long, sharp splinter.
“As a matter of fact, I did this,” the attorney replied.
Hannah and Tinker both snapped their heads in his direction. All Hannah could manage was a stunned, “You?”
Tinker, on the other hand, droned on about first one thing, and then another. He liked the sliding panel over the television. Were there other hidden surprises? He had suggestions for where the electrical panel should have been… where was it, by the way? Where was the main breaker box for the property, just in case he needed to know? Some old buildings had a false floor, or a lowered ceiling. What about these? Any crawl spaces he could know about?
“Let’s look at the other cabin,” Tinker suggested eagerly.
“Honestly, Mr. Tinker, all we’re asking for is a bid on the old store.” Walker glanced at his watch. “I have another contractor scheduled for two o’clock.”
“Oh, well, sure, sure. I can be done by then, don’t you know.”
“Actually, I don’t know,” Walker replied smoothly. “Let’s go find out, shall we?”
Hannah breezed past his outstretched arm, her grin stretched wide. For once, the lawyer’s smirk was directed at someone other than her.
A trail of dust still hung in the air behind Everett Tinker’s old truck. Hannah turned on Walker and charged, “I do not like that man!”
“That makes two of us.” Putting a hand onto Leroy’s head, he felt the great beast tremble with controlled energy. “Correction. Three.”
“I wonder why Leroy kept barking like that, running back and forth between the inn and the store.”
“He obviously didn’t like Tinker, any more than we did.”
“And what was with all the banging
and tapping? We’re going to tear down the inner walls and remodel. What’s it matter if they’re hollow or solid? And why are you still staring toward the road?” Following his gaze, a thought occurred to her. She instinctively moved a step closer and dropped her voice. “Do you not trust him to truly leave the property?”
“I don’t trust him at all.”
“Then why did you call him?”
“I didn’t. I called Hank Ruby, remember?”
However, Hannah was on a roll, still peppering him with questions. “And why didn’t you tell me you did that work in the cabin? The craftsmanship is amazing! Why do we even need a contractor? You could just remodel the old store.”
He was too distracted to respond to her compliment. “Something doesn’t add up.”
“I know.” Hannah sighed, deflating like a balloon. “You have a law practice. Not enough hours in a day to work on the building, too. It doesn’t add up.”
“No, not that. Well, yes that, but I was referring to Tinker. He said he was from Wichita Falls.”
“So?”
“His truck has Kansas plates.”
By silent accord, they turned and started toward the inn.
“Maybe he meant Wichita, as in Wichita, Kansas. Maybe he added ‘Falls’ by mistake.”
“I admit, he’s not the hottest burner on the stove, but surely he knows where he lives.”
Hannah looked doubtful. After a moment, she brightened. “We don’t need his bid, anyway. We have that other contractor coming at two.”
Walker opened the inn door and held it for her, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “There’s no other contractor,” he admitted. “I just told him that to hurry him along.” With a wicked wink, he added, “Don’t you know.”
Hannah laughed along with him, but warning bells sounded in her head.
He’s married. Married, married, married. He may have spent the last five nights here, helping you out and making you feel safe, not a wedding ring in sight, but he is OFF limits. No use in noticing his sexy laugh and his to-die-for smile. Get over it.
“I’ll throw some lunch together,” she offered, eager to get away from the smile she tried so hard to ignore. “Do you have time before you leave?”
She told herself she didn’t notice the graceful play of muscles along his arm, either, when he consulted his wristwatch. “I should have time for a quick bite. If we have pork chops left from last night, I can warm one of those.”
She nodded and hurried off to the kitchen.
Walker found her there a few moments later, staring into the refrigerator. She had plates and a tub of leftover potato salad on the counter, but no pork chops. He peered over her shoulder. “Where’s the meat?”
“That’s what I’d like to know!” She tossed him a suspicious look. “Was that you I heard last night, banging around in the kitchen? Did you get hungry and have a midnight snack?”
He backed away, palms offered up in a gesture of innocence. “I thought that was you down here.”
“I have a strict policy about not wandering around in the dark.” Not after the other night, she added silently. She took the empty platter from the refrigerator shelf and wagged it toward him. “If you didn’t eat these, who did?”
“It must have been Leroy, because I’m telling you, I didn’t eat them.” He went so far as to frown in disappointment. “And I already had my taste buds all set for them.”
“Leroy did not open this refrigerator and get out the pork chops. You did this, Walker Jacoby,” she accused.
“I swear, I didn’t eat the leftover pork chops. Scout’s honor.” He made an official-looking sign with his fingers.
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Were you ever a scout?”
“No, but that’s beside the point. I still didn’t eat the pork chops.”
She merely huffed. “Looks like you’re eating sandwiches, then.”
“Fine with me. Hey, have you seen that folder I left on the check-in counter? I went to grab it just now, and it’s not there.”
“Haven’t seen it.”
“Hmm. Maybe I left it somewhere else.”
Hannah fretted while she pulled together the makings for sandwiches. Carrying the offering to the table, she finally voiced her troubled thoughts.
“Walker? You don’t think… I mean, surely she wouldn’t… she seemed more sad than dangerous, but—but could Caroline have moved your file and eaten the pork chops? You don’t think she somehow managed to get in, do you, and… and snooped around?”
He didn’t answer right away. He seemed to give the idea serious merit before answering, albeit indirectly. “I’m certain Caroline didn’t eat the pork chops,” he assured her.
“How can you be so sure? Is she a vegetarian?”
He smiled at the very thought. “I doubt it. But trust me, Caroline didn’t eat them.”
Hannah wasn’t fooled for a minute. “Because you did!” she accused.
“I did no such thing.”
“Well, if you didn’t, and Leroy and I didn’t, and now you insist Caroline didn’t, then who in the heck ate the pork chops?” Hannah demanded.
Walker stared toward the great room, and the front door beyond that. “I don’t know,” he admitted. His brows drew together in a frown. “I just don’t know.”
Chapter Ten
“Like taking candy from a baby.”
Delroy slipped into the front seat of the old pickup and held up a manila folder. His thin face split with a grin.
“What is that?”
“Some sort of contract. Lots of ‘wherefores’ and other such nonsense. It looked important, so I took it.”
“What’s in the other hand?” his brother asked, pulling away from the shoulder of the road. Del had been waiting in the trees, just as planned.
“That, dear brother,” Del said, popping the last of the morsel into his mouth and smacking his lips, “was just about the best pork chop I ever did taste.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed your midmorning snack,” his brother jeered. “What else did you find? I stalled as long as I could, giving you more time to snoop.”
“I couldn’t snoop too much,” Del complained, licking his fingers clean. “That woman was watching me.”
“What woman? There ain’t another woman out there. I’ve been casing the place all week, don’t you know.”
“Don’t know how you could miss a fine woman like her. Long blond hair, skin as fair as day, a pretty yellow dress that hung all the way to the floor. Mighty fine-looking woman.”
His brother flung his beefy arm out, walloping him in the chest. “I sent you in there to find something useful, you fool, not to flirt with the cook!”
“I found this, didn’t I?” the younger man scoffed, waving the folder in the air triumphantly.
“What is it, then? What’s it say? Does it have a copy of the map inside?”
“Well, let’s just take a look-see and find out.” Delroy opened the folder and scanned the first page. “It says here the party of the first part is demanding su—sufficient r—re—renumeration,” he struggled with the words, “for concentration of expenses in—incurred—”
“You mean compensation.”
“Yeah, that too.” Del scanned the rest of the document, until he reached the last page. “Okay, here we go. This says that Opal Finke is demanding seven thousand and fifty-two dollars from Hill Country Home Insurance.”
“Who the heck is Opal Finke?”
“The poor woman whose house flooded when the water pipe broke. Ouch! Whatdidya hit me for?” He shrank into himself, but he couldn’t pull far enough away to escape his brother’s wrath. Bigs slapped at him blindly, swatting anything his flapping arm came in contact with. The truck swerved a crazy path down the blacktop road. “Watch it, Bigs! You nearly run us off the road!”
“I’ll not only run you off the road, I’ll run you out of town!” Snatching the cap off his head, Bigs used it to extend his reach. He continued to swat at his brother, who now
hovered against the far door. “I’ll run you off the dad-blamed planet! That file you stole ain’t got nothing to do with the hidden treasure, you idiot. That’s just some old lady suing her insurance company. I swear, sometimes you ain’t got a lick of sense!”
“Big Daddy always said it was the curse,” Delroy defended himself. “The curse that little German gal put on our family, when Great-Granddaddy Patch didn’t go back and marry her.”
“You ain’t cursed,” his brother denied. “You’re just plumb stupid.”
Chapter Eleven
Humming along with the music streaming from her phone, Hannah studied the ledgers scattered in front of her. Fortunately for her, Miss Wilhelmina kept excellent documentation through the years, even though it was all done by hand. With nothing recorded electronically, Hannah had to search through each ledger, one by one. It was a slow process, but she was making progress.
She was buoyed by the totals in the margins. The Spirits of Texas Inn was, indeed, a profitable business, just as Walker reported that first day. It helped that a substantial deposit was made in late 1970, and again the following year. Smaller but still significant amounts followed for the next five years. With a healthy bank account to fall back on, the inn could afford a few lean times.
Most interesting of all was the fact that Miss Wilhelmina, like the innkeepers before her, made side notes throughout the ledgers. In many ways, the notes read like journals.
Some notes were brief and to the point: Raining. Or, Construction on the new highway.
