Kitabı oku: «Courting Danger», sayfa 4

Chapter 4

Gabe let out a long, low whistle as he ran his hands up and down my arms in a comforting gesture.

“The murder occurred in your grandfather’s former chambers?”

Damn this place. How could the past reach through generations to hold another so entangled in the consequences?

I needed to go home and drag my aching body into bed, not to emerge for at least a week. But I had a client who needed me to find the truth.

Breaking away from Gabe, I stepped toward the door. “You’re the former detective. What do your instincts tell you about this situation?”

“It was where Grace spent the majority of her time. Then again, there’s no such thing as coincidence, not when murder is involved.”

“This just gets more and more complicated.”

After picking up his flashlight, Gabe followed and swept the beam around the room’s interior. I stared in disbelief.

Before me was the re-creation of Jonathan Rochelle’s inner chambers in the aftermath of a hurricane. Many of the strewn and overturned objects I recognized from the small storage room tucked at the back of my aunt’s house. Although under Hilary’s orders, the room had been kept locked at all times. Still on occasion a servant had left it open. Since my room was also on the same level, I had used those opportunities to sneak in and explore. What child could resist the secrets underneath drop cloths behind a locked door?

I stepped inside the chambers. Here on the floor was the bronze statue of justice that my grandmother had given her husband the day he had been sworn in. I knew by heart the words engraved on the figurine’s base: To Jonathan, My Darling And My Hero. Love, Marguerite.

All that remained of a family heirloom vase were scattered blue fragments. Grandfather’s worn book of landmark court decisions was pitched into the corner.

Tears burned my eyes.

“The bastard. He could’ve torn the pages.” I started toward the book, but Gabe gripped my arm.

“You can’t move anything.”

Of course. Nodding, I wrapped my arms around my middle because the urge to grab the book I had read so often remained strong.

“That guy tossed this room looking for something. Anything you notice as being unusual?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been inside the actual room before.” All visitors had been kept to the temporary restoration offices on the first floor while the upper floors had been under construction.

“But you know the contents.”

“Some. My family kept a few of Granddad’s belongings in storage. I didn’t even know that they had been transferred here.” Circling, I surveyed the room. Taking center stage was a magnificent mahogany desk that had been imported from the Far East. Elaborate carvings covered all the sides.

“Look,” I pointed, “the desk drawers are open.”

Gabe avoided the debris and stepped behind the desk. “Nice work,” he murmured as he ran his gloved hand over a carving.

“Granddad’s pride and joy. My aunt used to say it matched the size of his ego.”

I joined Gabe, prepared to search the drawers but an overturned frame drew my attention. The glass was broken and the faded photograph of the couple ripped to shreds.

“Your grandparents?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

Crouching, Gabe used a pen to slightly lift the frame and examine the back before carefully lowering the frame. “Doesn’t look like it’s been opened so chances are nothing was hidden behind the photo.”

I started to protest but then closed my mouth. His conclusion that the intruder had been looking for something was an obvious one. Yet the photo’s destruction seemed more personal.

The hair on my neck stirred. I felt disoriented, to be surrounded with so many of my grandfather’s things after all these years. If I blinked, I swore I would see him sitting…No, don’t be ridiculous.

Glancing away to stare at the far wall, I froze. Hung in an ornate gilt frame was a painting of Jonathan Rochelle in his robes. The artist had captured him sitting behind the bench, with one hand resting on top of a Bible. Even at rest, my grandfather exuded energy. From all accounts, he had been a dynamic man and strength radiated from him. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as if he was laughing at me.

Then I saw the diagonal tear across the portrait. “Gabe!” I rushed across the room. “The painting’s been slashed.”

“We must have interrupted the thief before he could totally destroy it.”

“Thank God,” I murmured as I touched the raw edges. I would call my friend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He would know the best restoration expert.

Voices from the hallway warned we weren’t alone anymore.

“Come on.” Gabe gripped my arm. “We’d better get out of the crime scene before the cops get here.”

The next hour passed in a blur as the police once more swarmed over the room and interviewed us. Numbly I answered those questions I could and deftly avoided those I wouldn’t or couldn’t answer.

Then Gabe was guiding me out of the building into the night. “Let’s grab something cold to drink.”

We walked in silence until we reached the first trendy bar along Clematis Street. Because it was off hours, the place wasn’t crowded and Gabe found a table in the rear where we couldn’t be overheard. After we placed our orders, Gabe leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Shoot what?”

“Tell me about your grandparents. You’ve been paler than a ghost since you made the connection that the room had been your grandfather’s chambers.”

I laced my fingers together. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about their disappearance? I know some about the scandal. Judge Rochelle in with the Mob, taking bribes—”

I slammed the palm of my hand on the tabletop, causing the bowl of nuts to rattle. “He did not! That’s a lie.”

Gabe held up his hands. “Okay. What do you believe happened?”

The brief spurt of anger drained away, leaving me tired beyond belief. Still, any immediate prospect of crawling into bed remained a mirage.

I rubbed my now-throbbing temples. “I don’t know what happened, only the official accounts. All I know is that the scandal left a scar on my life from the moment I was born.”

“How so?”

To say I was normally closemouthed about my family would be an understatement. The only people who knew were Carling and Nicole. However, I saw quiet understanding in Gabe’s eyes, not the morbid curiosity I usually confronted. I rolled my shoulders to loosen the tension before I continued.

“My mother was twelve when her parents vanished without a trace. She never got over it. She went from a rebellious teenager to a woman bent on self-destruction. She never settled down, only jet-setting around the world as much as her trust fund would permit. My mother slept with any man who wanted her and even those who didn’t.”

I shrugged. “At some point she got too careless and I was the result. She was ‘in love’ at the time and thought a child would bind the man to her. It didn’t. The relationship went bust by the time I was born, and dear old Mom dumped me off on Aunt Hilary and Uncle Colin’s doorsteps.”

The waitress served us our drinks, and I sipped the tepid Pinot Grigio to moisten my throat.

“Your mother’s sister raised you?”

“No.” I lowered my glass. “Aunt Hilary is actually my grandfather’s sister. Calling her ‘great-aunt’ reminded her too much of her age.”

“Does she think her brother was wrongly accused?”

“I have no idea. She’s banned any discussion.”

My fingers tightened on the glass stem. “Once when I was six I made the mistake of asking a question during dinner. I had sneaked into the room where Granddad’s things were kept after a maid had left it unlocked. His desk fascinated me so I wanted to know where he was.”

I took another sip of wine and then stared at my empty glass in astonishment. I never drank an entire glass. Aunt Hilary had always said that alcohol dulled the intellect. My mother was a shining example. Except for the one binge that had led to my disastrous marriage, I avoided drinking.

Gabe signaled to the waitress. “Oh no, I can’t.” I placed my hand over the glass.

“Worried I might take advantage of you?”

“No, but I need to be able to think.”

“It seems to me that you do too much thinking at times, Kate. You need to loosen up and let go.”

“Therein lies the way to ruination for a Rochelle.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to her? Have you ever met her?”

That would be difficult to do since she broke her neck skiing au natural, drunk as a skunk, down the slopes in the Italian Alps.

When the waitress arrived with another wine and a club soda, I seized on the interruption. At times the line between talking about my family’s history and baring my soul was razor thin. “We need to discuss the case.”

“Fascinating.” Gabe took a swig of his drink. Not as fascinating as watching his strong neck muscles flex as he swallowed.

“What is?”

“The way the No Trespassing sign reared up in your voice.”

I shrugged. “I’ve already said too much. Family matters shouldn’t be discussed in public.”

“I assume I’m in the presence of Aunt Hilary?”

Horrified, I stared at him. I had done it again. Fallen back on her when I was feeling vulnerable. Did I not have any protective mantels of my own? When would I be my own person?

“Yes,” I sighed, “but my mother’s dead and gone and I’d rather not discuss her.”

He reached across the table and took my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “For now. But at some point you’ll have to talk about her if only to let go of all that hurt inside you.”

I tugged my hand, trying to get up, but his grip tightened. Frustrated, I glared at him. “I want to go home.”

“We still have business to finish tonight.”

“We saw the crime scene. It told us nothing about Grace Roberts’s murder.”

He continued to massage my hand, sending tingles of warmth shooting up my arm.

“No? It told us that somehow your grandfather is involved. What happened tonight was no coincidence. His chambers were not a random toss.”

“It could’ve been a kid bent on trouble or someone trying to destroy any evidence from Grace’s murder.” Talk about grasping at straws, but I needed to make the effort in front of Gabe.

“The destruction of the photograph and painting were personal and you know it.”

“Yes.” The fact that Gabe’s observation matched mine relieved some of my inner tension. I hadn’t been imagining things in the chambers after all. “I sensed the anger.”

“Whether revenge or something more is involved, we need to explore that avenue.”

“True, but Grace was murdered in that room because of her involvement with the restoration. We need to keep with the game plan of the most logical suspects, namely the restoration committee and its volunteers. I have the list. Can you run backgrounds on them?”

“Sure.” He raised my hand and flipped it over, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. “Babe, why do you think your grandfather was innocent?” His dark gaze unsettled me.

The wine cracked open the door to that part of my heart I kept secret from the world. I wrapped my fingers around the locket and tried desperately to fence around the truth.

“His decisions, his work, his community service.”

“What else?”

I blinked back the tears that burned in my eyes.

“Because of the honesty I see in his face.” I whispered, “I have his looks and his character, from what my aunt has told me a million times.”

“So you have to believe that he was honest.”

“Yes.”

“Sounds reasonable to me.” Gabe rose. “We have a long day tomorrow. Let me take you home.”

Darkness shrouded the endless twisting hallway. As I walked along, I kept trying to open doors but all were locked. Panic’s fingers gripped my throat but I managed to swallow my fear.

I would find a way out. I had to.

Ahead of me the shadows stirred, and I saw a figure.

“Wait!” I cried out as I began to run. But the person raced away from me.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up with him. The hall was like a maze. Every time I thought I had reached the end, there was another stretch. Every time I turned, the figure disappeared down another hallway.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and my lungs burned. If I didn’t know I was in the old courthouse, I could’ve sworn I was running uphill.

Finally, I saw the form pause before a door. The darkness shifted and lightened. Stunned, I saw my grandfather smile at me before he opened the door and slipped from view.

“Granddad, wait! It’s Kate!” I hurried after him. Why didn’t he stop? Didn’t he know who I was?

I reached the door and slipped through the gap. The bright light blinded me and I froze. It took a moment before I could see clearly. Then I wished I was blind again.

The only furniture in the room with white walls was a raised table. Strapped to it was Lloyd Silber.

“You failed me!” he screamed, his accusation slicing through me like a sword.

“No! I’ve only begun the investigation. I’ll get you out.”

My grandfather, holding a book, appeared beside the table. “No, you’re too late. You’ve failed to save him like you’ve failed at everything else in your life.”

Then the book changed into a syringe, and my grandfather raised his hand.

Tears streamed down my face. “Granddad, you can’t do this. You’re not a murderer.”

His mouth twisted into a macabre smile. “Why not, Kate? I’m already doomed.” He brought his hand down.

“No!”

I shot up in bed, my chest heaving. Shoving back the tangled mass of hair, I took a few steadying breaths.

I was in my bedroom, not the courthouse. The early-morning light crept through the lace curtains. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Six o’clock.

Then I heard a sound. The soft tread on the hardwood floor coming from the front of the house.

Flinging back the damp twisted sheets, I swung my feet to the floor and dropped into a crouch. I scanned my bedroom and what part of the hallway I could see. Nothing.

Keeping low, I scampered around the corner of the bed. Since I kept my gun locked up, I didn’t have many weapon options. Perfume spray would burn anyone’s eyes like the devil, but I didn’t want to get that up close and personal.

Wait a minute. Running my hand carefully under the bed, I curved my fingers over the baseball bat stowed there along with my other sporting equipment. Bed skirts hid a multitude of clutter.

Now armed, I padded to the door and held my breath. I saw a muted glow of light in the room I used as my office. I stole toward the entrance but Willy, with his innate sense of timing, appeared at my feet and yowled for his breakfast.

I rushed down the hall but I was too late. The office window was open, the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Holding the bat up, I went to the window and slammed it shut before locking it. I could’ve sworn every window had been secured before I’d gone to bed last night. The glass wasn’t broken and there were no signs that it had been jimmied.

Puzzled, I turned on the desk lamp and looked around. No trace of an intruder. Not a tossed book or an open drawer. I must’ve interrupted him before he could search. Or had there really been someone inside the house? In my weariness had I simply forgotten to lock up last night? I placed the bat in my chair. Maybe I was losing it.

Then I scrutinized my desk.

One thing that could be said about anal-compulsives. We know where and how we left our things. I always kept my appointment book in the center of the desk pad—and closed.

It lay open at an angle about two inches from the edge of my desk. I didn’t have to read it to know it was opened to the page marking my meeting in the jail with Lloyd. Since I like to keep records, my appointment book doubled as a diary of events.

I glanced over to where Willy waited expectantly. “You know, I don’t think the theft of my briefcase yesterday was an accident. I think someone wants information about the case.”

Willy rose, flipped his tail with disdain and huffed off. So much for using a cat as a sounding board when his mind is set on breakfast. The idea sounded pretty incredulous to me as well.

I checked the wall clock. No point in going back to bed. Not with court at 9:30 and adrenaline pumping in my systems. Peeling off my damp silk nightshirt, I walked to the bathroom. I slipped into my swimsuit, fed Willy and, after grabbing my portable phone, I headed outside to the patio.

Moments later, I set the phone on the deck and dove into the pool. The initial shock of the cool water drove the breath from my lungs, but as I fell into a rhythm of swimming laps, my body became acclimated and the water felt like silk against my skin.

Stretch, pull, kick. With every stroke, the nightmare’s grip on my nerves eased.

During my youth, I had taken up competitive swimming in the vain hope of winning Hilary’s approval. Only after my divorce did I realize that swimming was as vital to me as breathing. The psychiatrist I had seen briefly had likened the pool to a mother’s womb, saying that was why I turned to swimming so much.

Personally, I thought her conclusion had been pricey metaphysical baloney. If she had even been half listening to me, she would have realized my mother’s womb probably had been a toxic cesspool of booze and drugs. How I had been born physically unscathed was truly a wonder of the world.

Turn, kick, stretch and pull.

After two embarrassing sessions, I’d called it quits with the mental health profession. I loved to swim and that was all that mattered. Those moments when my muscles would burn and my worries would go on mute functioned like deep sleep, enabling a release of my subconscious to explore options. Some of my best decisions came while I swam, such as going into practice with Carling and Nicole.

My muscles were warm and limber now; the sensation of peace stole over me. I was almost there at that special spot in my mind—

The phone’s harsh musical notes ripped through the quiet morning. I sighed. While I could ignore the phone, the mood was shattered and I needed to get ready for court. Since I was at the far end, I quickened my freestyle.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Startled, I swallowed pool water and gagged. The chlorinated stuff went straight up my nasal passage, burning my nose and throat. The resulting tears lessened the effect of the glare I shot Gabe as I fumbled for the phone. Still off balance from Gabe’s appearance in my backyard—my backyard barricaded from the outside world by a five-foot wood picket fence—I misjudged the distance and cracked my left elbow on the side of the pool.

“Ouch!” I almost dropped the phone into the water.

“Hello? Katherine?”

I dragged my attention to the phone as I rubbed my throbbing arm. At the rate I was going, I would need a body cast before the end of the week.

“Good morning, Aunt Hilary.”

“You sound very strange, Katherine. Did I wake you?” My aunt’s disapproval simmered over the line.

“No, I was up.” Although I wished that I could go back to bed and start the day over again.

Gabe sauntered toward me, and I pressed my finger over my lips for him to remain silent. Of course he ignored me.

“Let me give you a hand up.” With a grin he extended his hand.

Stunned silence emanated in waves on the other end of the phone. Then my aunt spoke in a frigid, condemning tone. “Is there a man with you?”

Technically, I was an unattached adult woman, who owned her house and ran her own business. Hopefully sooner and not later, I would have a man in this house, but this wasn’t the time for that particular battle with Hilary.

Stumped as to how best to answer her, I lifted my hand to push back my dripping hair. Mistake.

Gabe gripped me under my arms and hauled me gasping out of the pool. Shivering from the sudden exposure to the cool morning air, I realized I hadn’t bothered to bring out a towel. Great. When wet, my white workout tank suit turned transparent, leaving nothing to the imagination.

A situation that didn’t escape Gabe’s attention. As he surveyed me leisurely, I could feel my skin heat from the fire in his gaze.

“You think too much,” he murmured.

“Someone has to think around here! You operate on pure testosterone.” I stalked to the door.

“What did you say to me, young lady?” Hilary sputtered.

Damn, I’d forgotten to cover the receiver during my little exchange with Gabe.

“Hang on a minute, Aunt Hilary.” On my way through the bathroom, I grabbed a robe. I entered the kitchen where a meowing Willy greeted me.

“Katherine?”

“I’m here, Aunt Hilary.”

I scrunched my shoulder to hold the phone to my ear as I shrugged into my robe.

“And yes, that was a man you heard. He’s the investigator who’s helping me with Lloyd’s case.” I glared at Gabe as he ambled into the kitchen.

“You hired a private investigator?”

“Yes—”

“Why on earth would you do such a foolish thing?”

I sank onto a stool and rested my forehead against the palm of my head. Gabe made himself at home by opening cupboard doors until he found the coffee.

“I don’t know, Aunt Hilary. Maybe because it’s standard when there are a lot of witnesses—”

“It’s a waste of money.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“And what about Lloyd’s finances? Are you trying to bankrupt him? I called this morning to tell you that his friends haven’t been able to raise much toward his bail.”

Great. Just great.

“Then I guess I’d better argue for as low a bail as possible this morning at first appearance.”

Gabe finished measuring the grains and turned on the coffee maker. He lounged against the counter.

“You’re raising false hope. Colin said you should be busy bargaining for the best plea that you can.”

“What if Lloyd’s innocent?”

“I knew it. You’re going to ruin that man’s life.”

“If the prosecutor goes for the death penalty, I may just save his life.”

Hilary’s voice became distant. “Colin, speak to her.”

I lowered my head and thumped it against the countertop.

“Good morning, honey.”

“Good morning, Uncle Colin.”

Gabe placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of me. I grabbed it and gulped down a sip, nearly hissing when it burned my mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Coffee’s still too hot to drink.”

“Then don’t drink it.”

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that? What other sage advice does Hilary want you to impart at this hour?”

Colin cleared his throat. “I know how you want to do the right thing. But I’m speaking from experience. Defending someone accused of murder is tricky. No matter how well-meaning an attorney wants to be, how much she wants to crusade a cause, your client’s life is at stake.”

“But Uncle Colin, something strange is going on. There have been problems with the courthouse construction.”

“What does that have to do with Grace’s death?”

“Maybe nothing. But I’m going to check it out. And last night when my investigator and I were inspecting the crime scene, we caught someone destroying the room. It was Granddad’s chambers.”

Silence on the other end. Colin harrumphed. “I’ll have to find a way to tell her.” From his slight emphasis, I knew Hilary was still standing close by the phone. “Your godfather Paul won’t like this either. The whole situation sounds dangerous, Katherine.”

“I have Gabriel Chavez working with me. He’s a top-notch investigator. Not to worry, Uncle Colin, I’ll be careful. After court, I’m going to interview the restoration volunteers.”

Hilary’s voice sounded in the background. Colin cleared his throat again. “Oh, your aunt wants to remind you of the charity ball meeting this weekend.”

“I don’t think—”

Hilary came on the line. “Katherine, this is the final financial drive for the courthouse before it opens. We’re on the board of directors. You must make it.”

“I’ll try. Look, I have to go. I’m due in court.”

“Katherine—”

“Bye, Aunt Hilary.” With a wince I disconnected the line. Boy, would I hear about this later. One simply did not hang up on Hilary. She decided when a conversation was over.

“Sounds like heartwarming support from your family,” Gabe commented as he lounged against the counter next to me.

My head snapped up. “Why are you here at this hour of the morning?”

“You didn’t give me the list of people last night. I thought I’d run the backgrounds while you’re in court.”

“Great.” I took one bracing sip of coffee before rising and going into the living room where I had dumped my bag last night.

“You’re going to speak with the restoration staff?”

“Yes.” I pulled out my notepad and ripped off a page.

“Want me there?”

I considered that for a moment and then shook my head. “I’ve worked with them. They might talk to me more freely without a stranger present.”

“Okay. Then when I get finished I’ll head over to the police station and check out the case file.”

“They’ll give you access?”

“If I don’t run into the captain.” He grinned.

“Here’s the list. I have to get ready for court.”

“Need help?”

“Somehow I expect you’re more expert at helping a woman out of her clothes than into them.”

His eyes widened before he burst out laughing.

“Damn, Kate. I like you. You have quite a mouth on you.”

“Out.” I opened the door and waited expectantly.

He paused beside me and before I could react, pressed a hard, hot and all-too-brief kiss. “Yep. I like your mouth.”

Then he was gone.

I closed the door and ran my tongue over my lips. I could still taste him like a fine brandy—warm, spicy and all-too tantalizingly male. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had felt such a sexual tug, and I didn’t like it one bit.

But since I couldn’t slap a restraining order against my hormones, I would do the next best thing and take a cold shower.