by Lori Wilde
Nick groaned. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
A slow smile dawned on Hattie’s lips. “Yes, I do remember, and I think I know exactly the scene you mean. But will it work?”
Lucy grinned. “If it worked for Reginald and Penelope Van Whipple, we could make it work for us.”
16
The closet door closed, blanketing Nick and Lucy in total darkness. Nick heard the scrape of a key in the keyhole, then the sound of Hattie’s footsteps fading away.
“This is your great idea?” he asked, disoriented by the blackness surrounding him and the odor of mothballs in the air. “Locking us in a closet?”
“It worked in the book.” Lucy’s voice floated toward him. “The mobsters thought they’d gone out the back door and ran after them. That gave the Van Whipples a chance to escape. When Hattie tells the cops we went out the back door to search for Vanessa ourselves, they’ll chase after us. That should buy us a little time.”
“I just hope it’s enough.”
Silence as thick as the darkness descended between them. Plastic clothes hangers jabbed Nick in the back as he moved to find room in the stuffed closet. His foot collided with a bowling ball, and he swallowed his grunt of pain.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the throb in his big toe. “We need to put the pieces of this case together and come up with a plan.”
“Good idea. You go first.”
“I found a matchbook at the Hanover Building the night we broke in. Vanessa had an identical matchbook. It was from the Beaumonts’ anniversary party on April nineteenth.”
“The same night as the fire,” Lucy said. “It makes sense now.”
“What makes sense?” he asked.
“Lily Vyne, the eyewitness. With everything going on, I haven’t had a chance to tell you. Lily saw a man leaving the Hanover Building only moments before the fire. He was in a tuxedo.”
He shifted his weight, trying to find a more comfortable position in the closet. “Now all we need is a list of all the guests that attended the party. Luke tried to get it from the Beaumonts but came up empty.”
He heard her quick intake of breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Nick, I’ve got it.”
“What?”
“The list. A copy of the invitation list! It’s on a computer disk at the library. Mrs. Beaumont always uses the library staff as if we’re her social secretaries. I guess she thinks it’s one of the fringe benefits for serving on the Heritage Library Foundation. I remember typing the list into the computer and fuming because Melvin wasn’t invited.”
“Lucy, do you know what this means?” he asked, his blood surging with adrenaline. As a cop, he’d always felt this way right before he cracked a case. “Between that list and the eyewitness and the matchbook, we should have enough evidence to convince Luke to reopen the investigation. And it would help if we could prove that you weren’t anywhere near Vanessa’s place this afternoon. Did anyone else see you besides Grandma Hattie?”
“A little girl on Bale Street,” Lucy replied. “And Weasel.”
“Weasel? Why the hell were you with Weasel?”
“Not so loud,” Lucy whispered. “I’ll tell you later. We don’t want Madison and Gryzynski to hear us.”
“I can hardly hear you,” he replied. “You sound all muffled.”
“All these coats are smothering me,” she complained. “And I can’t see a thing.”
He reached out for Lucy, grabbing a fistful of faux fur instead. “Just move toward the sound of my voice.”
He moved his hands around, searching for her among the old coats and dresses and suits. Then he found her.
“Lucy,” he breathed, his hands lingering on her shoulders for a long moment before skimming down over her arms to her slender waist. He pulled her close, inhaling the familiar, sweet scent of her skin. Her hair tickled his nose. All his senses came alive in the darkness. Sound…smell…touch… Now he wanted more than anything to taste her.
He drew his hand slowly back up along her body, allowing it to guide him to her mouth. He heard her intake of breath, felt the delicate skin on her throat pebble beneath his fingertips. Then he found her chin, tipping it up while his fingers caressed her lips.
“Kiss me, Nick,” she said in a sultry whisper. “Kiss me like you never want to stop.”
He knew he wouldn’t want to stop, knew this was the worst possible time to indulge in the fantasies he’d been having ever since the first moment he met her. But he’d delayed living his life long enough. From now on, Nick Holden planned to enjoy every moment and take advantage of every opportunity.
He gently cupped her face between his palms, then lowered his head until his mouth touched her face. He brushed his lips over hers, so lightly that she moaned for more. His tongue traced the seam of her lips until they parted.
He deepened the kiss, moving his mouth against hers in a slow, evocative rhythm. His lips made a leisurely journey across her neck, tasting and caressing, awakening every nerve cell in his body.
“Oh…Nick,” she murmured, her lips seeking his once more, teasing and tantalizing. The darkness heightened all his senses, making each touch, each sound, each taste an intimate caress.
Nick forgot about everything except the beautiful, sensuous woman in his arms—until the closet door swung open. They reluctantly pulled apart, squinting at the sudden infusion of bright light.
Hattie stood before them. “I got rid of the cops.”
Nick looked at Lucy’s flushed cheeks, her red lips and the passion glowing in her big brown eyes, wishing he could just carry her off instead of carrying on with this investigation. But the sooner they solved this case, the sooner they could be together. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ll go to the library and get the list.”
“And I’ll track down Luke and we’ll meet you at the library. I have a feeling when we tell him about Lily Vyne, this case will break wide open.”
“What if she still refuses to talk to the police?”
Nick brushed a stray curl off her cheek. “She’ll talk to Rafferty. He’s always had a way with women.”
Lucy arched a blond brow. “What about you, Nick?”
He grinned. “There’s only one woman I care about.”
Hattie cleared her throat. “Time to get moving, you two.” She reached up to kiss Nick’s cheek. “Good luck. I’ll keep the meatloaf warm until you come back.”
Lucy didn’t need her nail file to break into the Heritage Library. Her electronic key card worked perfectly. But she still felt like an intruder as she moved among the rows of bookshelves, her footsteps echoing in the deserted building.
She’d been in the library after closing time several times before, but the silence seemed ominous now, almost eerie. The streetlights outside illuminated the interior of the library just enough for Lucy to make her way around inside without bumping into anything.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she made her way across the main floor. Her instincts told her that she wasn’t safe, but her instincts weren’t all that reliable. They hadn’t told her that Nick wasn’t really a criminal or that Babette wasn’t really a call girl. Or that peanut butter could be dangerous.
So maybe her uneasiness was due to her overactive imagination. Nick trusted her to handle this part of the investigation alone while he tracked down his old partner. They just had to convince Luke Rafferty to reopen the investigation—and soon, if she wanted to keep Melvin from going through with his escape plans.
Tapping sounds drew her attention to the large windowpanes overhead. She stood immobilized as she peered into the darkness, reminding herself of the tall oak trees lining the walk outside the library. It was just branches hitting the windowpane, she told herself. No reason to panic. Neither was that loud creaking noise above her. She looked up at the tiled ceiling. Probably just the building settling. All old buildin
gs made unusual noises.
Didn’t they?
Lucy shook off her uneasiness, telling herself she didn’t have time to figure out the source of every mysterious creak and clank. It was only a matter of time before the police tracked her down to question her some more about the break-in at Vanessa’s town house. Time that she was wasting by jumping at shadows.
She took a deep, fortifying breath before heading into the tiny audiovisual room. The tables inside were crowded with the library’s computers, audiotape recorders, overhead projectors, a DVR, and stereo speaker system.
She sat down at a computer terminal and booted up. The library network allowed all the computers to access information from one another. The computer screen glowed a bright phosphorescent green, lighting up the area around her. She typed in her password, then accessed Letitia Beaumont’s social file, scrolling down the length of the text until she finally found it: the invitation list for Harold and Letitia Beaumont’s fortieth anniversary party.
Lucy highlighted the list of over two hundred names, flipped on the laser printer, then clicked on the print icon.
The whir of the printer sounded unusually loud in the empty room. But not quite loud enough to cover the sound of the door to the room creaking open.
A shiver tingled down her spine. She held her breath as her instincts screamed at her to run. Maybe they were wrong again. Maybe Nick had arrived early. Or a ghost roamed the library at night. Or her stalker finally wanted to meet her in person.
“Hello, Lucy.”
She turned around, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar face in the doorway. “Hello, Lieutenant Delaney. You startled me.”
“Sorry about that,” he said, sauntering inside the room. “Seems you’re wanted downtown for questioning. According to Officers Madison and Gryzynski, you’re involved in a possible burglary.”
Her heart sank. She just needed a little more time. Her gaze fell to the printer, slowly spitting out the second sheet of paper full of names and addresses. “I know, Lieutenant. Somebody set me up. Nick and Detective Rafferty should be here in about twenty minutes. Then we can get this all straightened out.”
“Let me guess,” he said, stepping out of the shadows. “This has to do with the case against your brother?”
“I think we’ve finally got enough evidence to reopen the investigation,” Lucy said, her voice quivering with excitement. “An eyewitness came forward.”
His eyes widened at that announcement. “No kidding? An eyewitness?”
Lucy nodded. “She came to the library this afternoon and told me she saw a man in a tuxedo leaving the Hanover Building shortly before the fire started.”
The lieutenant shook his head in disbelief. “That’s incredible.”
“We’re close to finding the real arsonist, Lieutenant,” she said as the last sheet of paper fell onto the printer tray. “Very close.”
He took a step toward her. “A little too close, Lucy,” he said, pulling his gun out of his shoulder holster and aiming it straight at her.
Nick crept through the bushes beside Lucy’s apartment building, intently watching his prey. He almost hadn’t seen the stalker in his race to Lucy’s apartment, where Luke had promised to meet him. But now there was no mistaking the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and the flash of green polyester between the bare twigs.
“Bird-watching, Lester?”
The man crouching under the window of Lucy’s apartment emitted a high-pitched scream. He bolted up to make a run for it, but Nick had already hooked his arm around Lester’s throat. “Or maybe you’re peeping through her windows again?”
Lester whimpered. “Please let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Now that’s a matter of opinion, Les.” Nick released his hold, but stood blocking the only path to the street. Lester was trapped by hydrangea bushes on one side and the three-story brick apartment building on the other.
“I need to go home now. It’s been a long day,” Lester said, his gaze darting frantically around him, searching for an escape route. “The library’s been busier than ever and you’re…making me nervous.”
Nick stood with his feet planted wide apart, twirling a stray twig in his hands. “Why would you be nervous, Lester? I’m a perfectly nice guy. Of course, the fact that I’m an ex-con sometimes makes people nervous. You know, we tend to be violent. Explode easily. Sometimes lose control.” Nick snapped the twig in half.
Lester emitted a tiny squeak. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to know why you’ve been stalking, Lucy.”
“I was not stalking her,” Lester said, his indignation momentarily overcoming his fear. “I was spying on her. There’s a big difference.”
“I’m not sure it will make a difference to a jury.”
Lester blanched. “No! It wasn’t my fault. He told me to keep an eye on her. That she might be involved in criminal activity.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “He said it was my civic duty. And I also have a responsibility as library director.” Lester sniffed. “We can’t have riffraff working at the Heritage Library.”
“Riffraff?” Nick echoed, taking a step closer to him.
Lester backed up against the brick wall, his eyes wide. “Not that I think Miss Moore is riffraff, even if her brother is in jail. She’s very pleasant, even though she’s always trying to change things around the library. In fact, I wasn’t even planning on watching her tonight, but I…I…” His voice trailed off.
“You what?”
“Well, she’s very pretty, and I don’t date much, so watching Lucy has become sort of my new hobby.” Lester tugged at his shirt collar. “I just couldn’t stay away…even after you told me that you were handling the investigation.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never even talked to you before tonight.”
Lester’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, you did. I was there that night at Rawling’s Steakhouse, hiding behind the potted palm.”
“That was you?” His jaw clenched. “You followed Lucy to the restaurant?”
“I was supposed to keep an eye on her and report any suspicious activity. But when you warned me to stay away, I figured he’d told you to spy on Lucy, too.”
“Who is he?”
“That policeman. Lieutenant Delaney,” Lester explained. “He gave me the assignment a few weeks ago. Sometimes I’d call her just to see if she was home, and other times I’d come over here and check on her.”
Nick sucked in his breath. Delaney? Delaney ordered Lester to keep an eye on Lucy? Why? It just didn’t make sense. But the gnawing sensation in Nick’s gut told him he didn’t like it one bit.
He grabbed Lester by the shirt collar, pulling him toward the street. “I’m going after Lucy. I want you to go down to the police station and tell them everything you told me. Got it?”
“I’ll have to call Mother first…” Lester shouted, but Nick didn’t hear him as he raced for his car.
17
Lucy swallowed as she stared into the barrel of a really big gun. Trying not to panic, she asked herself what Penelope Van Whipple would do in this situation. Cause a distraction? Come up with a delay tactic? Wait for the author to write her out of this mess?
The books in the library were filled with heroes. She’d read all about their chivalrous escapades countless times. If only one of them would jump off the pages and come to her rescue now.
Reginald Van Whipple, where are you when I need you?
Lucy had never wished for a happily ever after more than she did at this moment. Only, this wasn’t fiction. And that gun gleaming in Delaney’s hand wasn’t make-believe. She’d have to depend on herself.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here,” she said, her mind racing in a hundred different directions. She didn’t want to die. She needed to keep Delaney talking. Ignore the gun. Buy cat food. Tell Nick she loved him. That would be the first item on her list when she saw him again—if she saw him a
gain. She took a deep breath. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Delaney snorted. “I thought you were a joke the first time we met. A harebrained librarian out to catch a criminal. Even with the help of a smart detective like Holden, I didn’t think you stood a chance of success. I covered my tracks too well.”
Keep him talking, she told herself. As long as he’s talking, he won’t shoot you.
He motioned to the computer with his gun hand. “You can delete that file now and then turn all those machines off.”
Lucy turned back to the computer screen, glimpsing the name of Lieutenant Ed Delaney on the invitation list before she reluctantly hit the delete button. Then, with her hands shaking, she methodically flipped buttons on the machines in front of her. “Okay, it’s permanently deleted. No one can access it now.”
“Good.” Delaney moved to the printer, sweeping up the papers she’d just printed off. He folded them and tucked them into his suit coat. “I don’t suppose you have any books here on how to silence nosy librarians?”
“I’ll have to check the electronic card catalog,” she said, edging away from him.
He took another step toward her. “Don’t bother. I was never much of a reader anyway. I prefer action.”
“Is that why you torched the Hanover Building?” Lucy asked, slowly edging behind a long table so a stack of audiovisual equipment stood between her and Delaney. “And then framed my brother for the crime?”
He shrugged. “I was just doing my job. As the police liaison for the Friends of Pine City Association, that is. They pay me extremely well. Sure beats that measly pension I’ll get from the police department. All I have to do is take care of any little problems that crop up for members of the association—like disposing of traffic tickets or unsuitable men dating their precious daughters.”
“So the Beaumonts paid you to get rid of Melvin?”
