Deadly Intentions (6 page)

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Authors: Candice Poarch

BOOK: Deadly Intentions
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“Mom . . .”
“For heaven's sake. I'm not telling you to marry him, just talk to him. Be polite. Who knows? You might like him.” She brushed Lisa's shoulder. “Oh, you look very nice tonight. Any young man would be proud to have you.”
“Mom, don't try to set me up. I'm not going out with one of Dad's coworkers.”
“Lisa, you will not embarrass your father tonight. You've done it your way long enough and you've yet to bring home a decent man.”
“Like Vanetta.”
“At least her late husband left her with a fortune,” her mother said briskly. “She owns those business centers. She's got money to spare. She's set for life. Now, she can find some nice man to raise a family with.”
Anxiety rushed over Lisa. “Don't think I'm going to settle with some old guy just to satisfy you, because I'm telling you right now, I'm not.”
“Straighten your shoulders and put a smile on your face. He's coming over now,” she said as if she hadn't heard a word Lisa said. She patted Lisa's arm. “Your father and I are very proud of you for making a success of your new business. Now it's time you settled down in other matters, too. Any man would be proud to have you.”
Lisa frowned and faced the pair. Her business wasn't a success yet. As her mother had said, it was new and she had a way to go. Was she trying to marry Lisa off before she messed up again?
“And for God's sake don't embarrass us. Your father has to work with this young man.” Her mother presented her father and whoever with a dignified smile.
“Honey, you remember me telling you about Charles?” her father said.
“Of course,” her mother said.
“Evening, Mrs. Claxton. It's a pleasure to see you again.”
“And this is my youngest daughter, Lisa.”
“Hello, Lisa.”
Lisa smiled. The guy didn't look half bad. He was around Brian's height, light complexioned with short hair.
“I understand it's your birthday. I brought you a little something.” He handed the beautifully decorated package over.
“Thank you,” Lisa said, wondering what a relative stranger would select. “I'll put it on the table and open it with the others later.”
He smiled and her mother and father eased away, obviously leaving them to get acquainted.
This guy was so far out of her league she couldn't begin to imagine how to start the conversation.
“I'm not on the market, you know. I'll tell my dad you tried, but . . .”
He laughed. “I like you already, Lisa. You have a great sense of humor.”
The conversation flowed easily between them. But Lisa caught her grandmother frowning at her just before she went inside the house. Obviously she didn't approve of Charles.
Everybody was trying to run Lisa's life—trying to decide what was best for her. Lisa sighed. Thankfully that wasn't true of her grandmother. She'd always steered Lisa to read what was truly in her heart. To trust her intuition.
8
Ben made sure he didn't work Friday. It was Lisa's birthday and although he hadn't been invited, he really didn't need an invitation. Somebody always crashed Mrs. Claxton's parties and she welcomed him or her with open arms. If they knew it was Lisa's birthday, some of the islanders would stop by just to give her greetings. He was one of them.
He'd dressed well for it. Lisa only saw him in his bar clothes and jeans around the island. He'd just moved there two years ago, so the only time he really saw her was at work. He'd never taken her on a date.
Ben made his way to the deck. The place was crowded. Looked like the entire family was there. Some of them were playing cards. Others were gathered in groups talking.
The house in back of them had been torn down. Hoyt and Naomi Claxton had purchased the land and hired Sam Lyons to plant a flower garden there. The flowers were thriving.
Ben searched for Lisa. He didn't see her anywhere. He approached Gabrielle. “Where's the birthday girl?”
“I guess she's inside with Brian.”
“Brian?” Ben asked, annoyed yet curious.
“She brought him to the party,” Gabrielle said.
Gabrielle's husband called her. Smiling toward Ben, she excused herself and left.
Ben scowled and his temper flared. That lying cheat. She seemed so sincere at the bar when she was merely lying to use him for information. As hard as he'd been trying to get a date with Lisa, she had the nerve to bring another man to the party? He hadn't heard a word about her dating someone. Who was this guy?
He was going to check out the competition.
Ben spent a few minutes outside. Somebody called him over to play a card game. He had such a hard time concentrating, he lost every hand. Lisa came out, mingled with the crowd. More people came and others left.
It was an hour before he could get her alone.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
“Thanks.”
She was looking especially pretty in her red blouse and black jeans, and wearing more makeup than usual. He shook his head. She sure had a figure that did wonders for a tight pair of jeans.
“How did the interview go? Did you get the job?”
She touched his arm and smiled. “I did. Thanks a lot.” She paused, then she said, “I don't think the news of Mrs. Woolsley's death has reached the island yet. I found her dead at the Knight house this morning. She was murdered.”
“What?”
“Shush,” Lisa said, glancing around. “I don't feel like explaining the details to my family tonight. They'd grill me for hours and I'm not up for that.”
Ben understood. The Claxtons were very protective. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“Guess you won't be going back there. Your family's gonna find out soon, though.”
“I know.”
“So where's this guy you brought to the party?” he asked.
“He's resting. He just got back from overseas.”
“Yeah? Who is he?”
“He's in the Navy.”
The bottom dropped out of Ben's stomach. “So he's your new boyfriend?”
She sighed. “No. I'm single, remember?”
Ben didn't quite know what to believe.
Justin was sweating profusely. He wanted to get this job completed and move on with his life. He'd tried and tried to call Tootsie, but as soon as the housekeeper had shown her face, Tootsie had disappeared. Justin had nothing. Not the copy or the actual bowl. Absolutely nothing!
He'd planned the details of the robbery well. Tootsie was a sculptor. He'd convinced her to make a copy of the golden bowl, planning to switch the copy with the antique bowl so the theft would go undetected.
Justin shook his head. Best laid plans. The housekeeper had arrived while they were in the house.
When he killed the housekeeper, Tootsie had taken off—with the copy, and he hadn't seen her since. He needed that copy more than ever now. When he went back to steal the antique bowl, he didn't want the robbery detected. He had to get Greg off his back.
The antique bowl had been in the Claxton family around four hundred years and for some reason, Greg was determined to have it.
He hated working jobs under someone else's rules, especially when they didn't know what the hell they were doing. He wasn't afraid of that pissant Greg, but Nicholas Doyle was another matter. If Justin didn't solve this without incident, that little whelp would go straight to his brother. You didn't mess with Nicholas. Nicholas Doyle was the coldest man he'd ever met. They'd met by mistake, while both were on jobs. Nicholas to kill and Justin to steal.
Justin swiped a hand across his forehead and wiped the dampness on his jeans. Greg had been calling him since that morning. Justin hadn't answered his phone. But he couldn't evade the man forever. The fool called every damn day for an update.
Justin had tried calling Tootsie but she wasn't answering her phone either. That was the problem with bringing in the woman you bedded. Or at least bedding the woman who was doing a job for you. It was supposed to be easy. The housekeeper shouldn't have been there. He'd studied her for weeks—even knew her name. Everyone on the street knew him in passing. He made sure to walk when the old folks walked. He made sure to help them with groceries. Even put together a dresser for some arthritic geezer.
Harriet had appeared every two weeks like clockwork to check on the house. This wasn't one of her weeks. Why in heck did she choose this morning, of all mornings, to arrive?
Nicholas Doyle wouldn't like it if the cops were involved with his brother.
His phone rang again. Hoping it was Tootsie, he glanced down and let out a relieved sigh.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tootsie asked. “I can't believe you shot that woman. You said nobody was gonna get hurt.”
Justin used a soothing tone. “She wasn't supposed to be there, baby. Do you really think I wanted to hurt her?”
“You didn't have to kill her.”
“What did you expect me to do? Let her identify us? We'd both wind up in jail. That's not the kind of life I want for us. You wouldn't last a day there.”
“I don't care. All the rationalization in the world won't make this right. You didn't have to kill her. I didn't even know you owned a gun.”
That's what he got for dealing with innocents. “You don't break into a house without protection.”
“You've made me an accessory to murder.
Murder.
I've never been in trouble in my life. I could go to jail, get a lethal injection. Are you getting anything I'm saying here?” she asked, panic rising in her voice. “I could end up in jail for the rest of my life for murder. My life is over.”
“Not if you keep your mouth shut.” Justin sighed. “Look, I didn't want to kill that lady. You know I didn't, but she could identify us.”
“Identify you. She never saw me. You could have hit her over the head or something.”
Justin tried to reason with her. “Putting a finger on me would put your freedom in jeopardy, too.”
“Not as much as murder would. At least we'd have some kind of future.”
Justin rubbed the back of his neck. “What's done is done. Not a thing we can do about it now,” he said. “So where are you?”
Silence hung in the air.
With a frustrated breath, Justin waited for her to tell him. “Look, just give me the bowl and we'll get the hell out of here. We'll go to Colorado. We'll start over. Just you and me, babe.”
“What's to stop you from killing me? I can identify you, too. You got rid of that woman, you could just as easily get rid of me.”
“Why in hell would I kill you? You're my partner—I hope for life. Don't you know by now that I love you? I took this job because I want a better life for us. We can retire off this job,” he entreated. He sighed deeply. “You can't actually believe I'd kill you.”
“Not the first time partners turned on each other.”
“We're more than partners. We love each other. You still love me like I love you, don't you?”
“This isn't about love. You don't get the person you love in trouble. I know I didn't feel right about doing this in the first place. How do I know once you get this bowl . . . ?”
“Stop talking crazy,” Justin said, beginning to panic. “We can't keep that bowl. My contact will be all over us.” He tried to sound reasonable, but he couldn't quite hold it together.
“Who is he?”
“It's safer if you don't know.”
“I thought I was safe with you. You tell me or I'm ending this call right now. No more bullshit. No more secrets.”
“Okay . . . okay. His name is Greg Doyle.”
“He's from here?”
“Williamsburg. About an hour from here. Now, where are you?”
“Maybe we should go to the police. If they knew the truth, maybe—”
“Are you freaking crazy?”
“You didn't mean to kill her. Maybe you'll get off on manslaughter. It's been nothing but trouble since we got mixed up in this thing.”
“J-Just give me the damn fake bowl and you'll be out,” he ripped out impatiently. “I still need it to substitute for the antique.”
“You'll kill me, too.”
Justin gritted his teeth. “I'm not going to kill you. I give you my word. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“How do I know that man won't kill us? How do you know anything? I need to think. I'll call you later.”
“Don't hang up. Tootsie . . . Toots . . . Damn.” She'd hung up.
He hit redial, but she wouldn't pick up.

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