Shroud of Fog: (A Cape Trouble Romantic Suspense Novel) (8 page)

He chuckled, then sobered again.  “She was quite a woman.”

“Yes, she was.”

He studied her openly.  “I remember your mother well.  She
was a nice lady, too.  You look like her.”

“Thank you.”  If that had come out stiff, Sophie couldn’t
help it.

Benjamin nodded what she thought was acknowledgement of her
reluctance to discuss her mother rather than what she’d said.  She wondered
what Officer Grissom thought about their conversation.  Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw him watching, a shoulder propped against one of the bare studs
that framed the side wall.  How well did he know Mr. Billington’s heir?

“I admit I came out here in part to find out whether
Doreen’s campaign died with her.  I have any number of offers for the property,
as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes.  And the answer,” she gestured around her, “as you can
no doubt tell, is no.  The other committee members and I plan to carry forward
with the auction and whatever else we need to do to raise the money to buy your
uncle’s land.  Assuming you’ll hold to the agreement.”

“I see.”  He raised his eyebrows slightly and looked past
her, at the mostly empty storage unit.  “I trust this isn’t all the donations
that have come in.”

Was that ever-so-slightly condescending?  Did he think Aunt
Doreen’s Save the Misty Beach campaign was a joke?  Maybe he thought he could
have his cake and eat it, too – look like Mr. Nice Guy, then, when the campaign
flopped, sell the land for big bucks to developers.

And maybe, Sophie thought wryly, her cynicism had nothing to
do with what kind of man Benjamin Billington was, only with the discomfort he
stirred in her because he brought back unwelcome memories.

She smiled.  “No.  I’m shifting the donations gradually to
this unit as I get them entered.”

“Then this isn’t where—?”  He stopped, appearing
embarrassed.

“No.”  After a moment she said, “I wouldn’t have been able
to bear sitting there working.”

“No.  Of course you couldn’t.  I’m sorry.  That was tactless
of me.”

She smiled with difficulty.  “It’s hard
not
to think
about it.  You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“I’ll let you get back to work.  To answer your question,
I’ll stick to the agreement I made with Doreen.  In fact, if there’s anything
at all I can do to help—”

“I understand you already donated to the auction.  That was
above and beyond.  Thank you.”

“Some bits of furniture, that’s all.”

“More than bits, from the sound of it.  I think I remember
that huge carved oak buffet from the lobby of the lodge.  It’s a beautiful
piece.”

“Nothing my wife and I would have a place for,” he
demurred.  “It seemed appropriate to donate pieces Uncle Bill left to benefit a
cause he would have appreciated.”

“Yes.”  Now her smile felt more genuine.  “You’re right. 
He’d like to see the land stay the way it is, wouldn’t he?”

For a moment his expression was far away.  “He loved the
place.”

With a last reminder to call if he could do anything, he
left, following the latest gawker who hadn’t been able to get a good look into
the unit with Benjamin’s SUV blocking the entrance.

“He certainly looks like his uncle,” Sophie said, as the
sound of the two vehicles diminished.

“He does,” the police officer agreed, his tone reflective. 
“Old Billington, he was a good man.  Didn’t much care if he made any more money
than it took to hold onto the place.”

Was he implying that the younger Billington wasn’t a good
man?  And did care if he made a whole lot of money?

Trying for tact, Sophie asked if he knew Benjamin well.

He shook his head.  “He hasn’t been around much in years.  I
guess he must have come for short visits, but that’s all.  This is the first
time I’ve seen him or his wife shopping in town.”

“Mr. Billington and his wife didn’t have children, did
they?”

“Nope.  I heard she never much liked the nephew, but that’s
just gossip.”  His face flushed.  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I was curious.  I admit, I was hoping you’d tell me what
you knew.  Honestly, poor Mrs. Billington might have resented Benjamin for no
other reason than because he was taking the place of the son she’d have liked
to have.”

“What I hear is, this Billington doesn’t have any kids,
either,” Officer Grissom remarked.  “Family is dying out.”  Then he looked a
little embarrassed, as if he’d realized he was gossiping.  “I should go get
another load or two.”

She started to rise.  “I’ll help.”

“The chief told me not to let you carry anything heavy—”

The sound of a car motor had them both glancing toward the
opening.  A squad car rolled to a stop, and Daniel Colburn got out, stretched
then walked toward them.  She had the same intense reaction to him she did
every time she saw him, however much she wished she’d get over it.  But, damn
it, even the way he walked was sexy.  It was loose-hipped and very male, more
of a saunter than anything.

“You two don’t look like you’re working very hard,” he said,
the curve of his mouth suggesting amusement.

Poor Officer Grissom’s cheeks turned red again.  “I was just
about to go fetch another load for Ms. Thomsen.”

She’d been trying and failing to get him to call her by her
first name.  She opened her mouth then closed it.  If he was determined to
maintain some distance, she ought to let him.  Maybe it was in the law
enforcement code: you shalt not call anyone involved in an investigation by his
or her first name.

Chief Colburn switched his attention from her to his officer
and began to issue instructions.  Apparently he was going to stay with her
until quitting time; he wanted Officer Grissom to go watch video taken by the
various cameras here in the storage facility.

“The quality is godawful,” he said.  “I’d have a time
recognizing anyone.  I suspect you’ll do a lot better than I can.”

Grissom looked pleased.  The two men disappeared, Daniel
promising to return with another load for her.  Their voices became fainter,
and she was left wondering if he’d had things to say he hadn’t wanted her to
hear.

That got her worrying.  Why was he here, and apparently to
hang around rather than just stopping by as he’d said he might do?  Oh, lord –
had he found something at Doreen’s house?  No – that was ridiculous.  What
could possibly be there to be found?  A note saying,
I’m meeting Joe Smith
at the storage unit at nine, and if I don’t come out, you’ll know who to blame?
 
Sure.

Daniel returned hefting a giant plastic tote that appeared
to weigh a great deal.  “Don’t open it until I get back,” he said – no, ordered
- and disappeared again without waiting for a response.

He hauled half a dozen boxes and another shelving unit
before he seemed satisfied.

In the meantime, Sophie had finished going through the
contents of the box she’d been working on and had set aside half a dozen things
she meant to take back to the cottage with her.

Instead of reaching for the lid of the tote, she looked at
Daniel.  “Was everything okay at Doreen’s?”

“Nothing seemed disturbed to me.”  Some lines had deepened
between his dark slash of eyebrows.  “Although I’m not sure I’d have been able
to tell if somebody had done a quick search.  I might take you over to walk
through with me.  It’s possible you’d see something I wouldn’t.”

“Yes.  Okay.”  Sophie hesitated.  “I guess you noticed Aunt
Doreen wasn’t very well organized.”  Messy, was what she meant.  “She always
thought there was something better to do than clean house,” she added
apologetically.

His smile showed in his eyes before it reached his mouth. 
“I can identify with that.”

She made a face at him.  “I can, too.  Blame her influence. 
My stepmother – her sister – is a neat freak.  Leaving my bed unmade was a safe
form of rebellion.”

Daniel laughed.  Blast it, she could not seem to make
herself think of him as Chief Colburn, however hard she tried.  He was too much
of a man, one who drew her despite her refusal to get involved with anyone tied
to Cape Trouble.  Which reminded her—

“Benjamin Billington stopped by.”

His eyebrows rose.  “Did he?  What’d he have to say?”

She told him about the short visit, then, hesitantly, about
the reserve she’d sensed in Officer Grissom.

“Yeah, I was thinking about Grissom earlier,” Daniel said
slowly.  “He’s been a cop here for going on thirty years.  It occurred to me
that he might be as good a source of information as Elaine or even Louella
Shoup.”  He grimaced.  “And, damn, I shouldn’t have said what I did about
them.”

A smile tugged at Sophie’s mouth.  “Prone to gossiping, are
you, Chief Colburn?”

He returned her grin.  “Seems so.”  He looked around. 
“Anything I can do?”

She set him to resealing boxes and writing on them with
permanent marker while she opened the tub and began inventorying the contents,
which seemed to consist primarily of fragile pieces that weren’t nearly well
enough wrapped, in her opinion.

“I’ve got to get my hands on boxes,” she said.

“Big ones?  The grocery store—”

“No, I need a variety of sizes.  Each item should be packed
individually.  I can order jewelry boxes online—” she made a note to herself
while she was thinking about it, then continued, “but I need to visit
businesses that get a lot of shipments and usually discard the boxes stuff came
in.”

He made some suggestions, then offered to help her ask
around.

“Benjamin Billington insisted twice that I should call if
there was anything he could do to help.”  She didn’t realize until now how odd
that seemed.  “I wonder if it was just one of those things you say.  Otherwise,
what did he have in mind?”

Daniel’s gaze sharpened.  “He didn’t get specific?  Say,
offer to help you go through the donations?”

“No, and except for expressing surprise that we didn’t have
more, he didn’t especially even seem curious about what I was working on.”  She
paused.  “He and his wife made some donations, you know.  Did I say that?”

“No, I don’t think you did.  What did they give?”

“According to the list, mostly furniture that belonged to
his uncle.  A couple of really nice pieces.  I remember one.”   She told him
about the enormous oak buffet that had held brochures and the like in the lobby
of the old resort lodge.  “I hope it hasn’t gotten battered over the years.”

“Or damp.  From what I hear, old Billington didn’t do much
to keep the place up.  He quit taking in guests years ago.  God knows whether
he kept the place heated.”

“But he lived there, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but huddled in a back bedroom and the kitchen toward
the end, or so people say.  I guess Billington the younger and his wife have
opened it up some, so maybe it’s not in as bad shape as it looks from the
outside.”  Seeing her surprise, he said, “I have to break up keggers and ticket
trespassers over there all the time.  It’s within the city limits, you know.”

“Actually, I’d forgotten.”  She supposed the resort had been
thriving when Cape Trouble was officially incorporated, and city officials
would have wanted any tax revenue.  “Do you have regular patrols over there?”

“Unfortunately.  Mostly a waste of our time, but we have to
do it. After old Billington died, I had a barricade put up, but people just
move it aside.  Only the property owner can erect a permanent gate.  Sometimes
I’m tempted to stick a severed head on a pike over the No Trespassing signs in
hopes of achieving compliance.”  His mouth quirked.  “Haven’t figured out whose
head I want on the pike, though.”

Sophie couldn’t help laughing again.  She forced herself
then to pay attention to what she was supposed to be doing for a few minutes,
but her gaze kept sliding sideways to where he was wielding packing tape with a
competent hand or writing what she told him in a bold, confident scrawl.

“Oh, shoot,” she said finally.  “It’s almost six.  I think
I’ll hang it up.  Would you mind if I take this whole tub of stuff with me? 
These, too.”  She indicated the pieces she’d earlier set aside, mostly jewelry
she felt confident would be modestly priced.

Daniel poked in the tub for a minute then said, “I’ll carry
it to your car.”

By the time she had her laptop closed and unplugged, he’d
put everything she intended to take away with her in the trunk of her Prius.

He waited as she turned off the bare overhead light bulb,
then lowered the door for her. 

“Why don’t I take you to dinner?” he suggested, once she’d
locked  “I’m hoping you can tell me more about your aunt.”

Sophie hesitated.  Was that really all he wanted?  A few
times she’d caught a glint in his eyes that made her wonder if he was as aware
of her as she was of him, but…she might be mistaken.

“What if I cook?” she suggested.  “We wouldn’t have an
audience that way.”

He smiled.  “Yeah, but you’d have to cook.  Why don’t I pick
something up instead and bring it?  If you can contribute a salad and  drinks,
I’ll let you do that much.”

“Deal,” she said promptly.  She was tired, she had realized
about the time she stood up.  The work today hadn’t been physical enough for
that to be an excuse.  Her emotions seemed to be in constant turmoil, though. 
Trying so hard
not
to think about her mother, or Doreen, or those
long-ago summers was a strain.

If anyone else had suggested dinner, she’d have said no. 
Even friends, if one had chanced to show up unexpectedly in Cape Trouble.  When
she was with Daniel Colburn, though, she felt…comforted.  Safe.

On a flash of alarm, she thought,
That means I’m not safe
at all where he’s concerned.

But the idea of spending a couple of hours with him in the
quiet of the rented cottage was still irresistible.

After he promised to appear with food within the hour, she
drove away, his marked police car right on her bumper as they exited through the
big iron gate.