The Honeymoon Cottage (A Pajaro Bay Romance) (15 page)

He immediately pulled back and stood up straight, but his eyes looking down at her were no longer icy. The blue looked like the blue light of a gas flame and that thought brought her crashing back to reality. She looked down at her hands, now folded in her lap.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm not," she said. "I think you're slightly nuts. But I don't want to never see you again. That was a stupid thing to say. But what happened at the house was an accident. It's an old house. I should have checked out the heater upstairs, or at least told Oliver not to touch it. It was careless of me. I was tired the first night, and just so glad things were working I didn't worry about it, and then didn't follow up yesterday. It was a rookie mistake, and I know more about remodeling houses than that. I was an idiot."

"Now you're kicking yourself."

"No. I admit it when I'm wrong. I will have all the gas lines in the house checked first thing. But that's all it was. A simple accident that could have been a disaster, but luckily wasn't."

"You're welcome."

She smiled up at him. "You're right. I haven't really said how grateful I am to you. Thank you for pulling us out of there."

"You probably would have made it out on your own," he said grudgingly.

"Thanks. I'm glad you acknowledge that someone other than you just might be able to do something. But you did save us."

"Or at least helped." He smiled tentatively.

"Thank you." She smiled back. "We both deserve some credit. So let's not argue. I'm not going to throw some childish fit and stomp my feet just because we disagree and I've got a headache that could kill a moose."

"Kill a moose?"

"Don't hassle me, Ryan. I've had a hard night."

"Sorry." But he was smiling now. "Now about talking to Oliver—"

"You don't give up, do you? Look, Ryan. All I'm asking you to do is trust me. I'm not a complete idiot. Yes, I misjudged Dennis. But I saw his love for Oliver. I saw Oliver's love for him. The guy's a jerk. But not a murderer."

She watched his jaw clench and unclench. Finally he said, "Maybe he's not behind these so-called accidents."

"There." She smiled at him. "That wasn't so painful, was it?"

He didn't smile. "But he may be manipulating Oliver. And I need to find out. And you don't know how crafty criminals can be."

If only he know how wrong he was. She looked down at the bedcovers again. Her lies were going to catch up to her someday. Somehow she had to get some distance from him.

"Now what did I say wrong?"

She shook it off. "Nothing."

"Just trust me, honey...."

"Dang it, Ryan! Don't you 'honey' me. I need to make the decisions about Oliver's care. I will talk to Oliver and try to get more information about Dennis. But I can't have you upsetting him." I can't have you cornering him, and pulling that friendly-cop act, and getting him to betray his father. I've seen it before. "Can't you just trust my judgment on this?"

He looked down at her and she could see that he couldn't—he couldn't just believe she was right about something.

How could she trust him with the truth when he wouldn't trust her? "I think you probably should go."

"Yeah," he said. He turned to go, then stopped at the door. "I'm glad you and Oliver are okay."

"Thanks."

She rolled over in the bed to face the wall.

~*~

She had just woken up from a nap when Robin Brenham swept in wearing a cherry red silk suit with matching nail polish. She plopped her oversized bag on the foot of the hospital bed.

"Fab handbag, Robin."

Robin held it up. "Stella McCartney leopard print. Isn't it something? Fab pjs you're wearing, by the way."

"La Perla. From my former life. Don't remind me."

"That's all right. I've got just what you need. Doc said it was okay."

She plopped herself down next to the handbag and pulled it open. She held up a leopard-print flask: "French press coffee. Great beans I got last time I was in the City. And—" she pulled out a white paper bag. "Chocolate croissants from Mama Thu's. This'll make it all better."

"You are a life saver."

"Yes. One of my many talents." She handed her a leopard print mug that matched the purse.

Camilla sniffed and sighed with pleasure. "Ooh. Real coffee." She took a sip.

"Good?"

"Heavenly."

Robin leaned back against the foot of the bed, apparently ready for a long talk. "So, tell me all about it. "I heard at Santos' Market that Captain Ryan was at your house when this happened...?"

"You heard it at Santos' Market?"

"Gossip central. Sandy, Miss Zelda's gardener, apparently told the stock boy, and the clerk checking me out told me."

"Great. So I'm topic number one in town again. After last night's blow-up with Mabel Rutherford."

Robin waved a manicured hand. "That woman's always making news. You should hear some of the things she's said about me." She tore of a bit of croissant and chewed thoughtfully. "So how much has the grapevine exaggerated?"

"About Ryan? He wasn't at the house. He was just passing by."

"Uh huh. I heard you kissed him."

"That was a couple of hours ago right here. How could they know that at Santos'?"

"The nurse is the school principal's sister, and she told her cousin, who was picking up an order at the market."

"I've got to get out of town."

Robin laughed, but Camilla didn't think it was funny.

"Don't worry about it, Camilla."

"People are saying awful things about me."

"No they're not. They're saying you're bringing Ryan out of his shell, and they say you're cute—that's from Manuel at the garage—and that you seem sweet. Nothing bad."

"Except that I'm an embezzler."

"No one believes that. They trust Ryan's judgment more than the old battleaxe's. So, how was the kiss?"

"With Ryan or Mrs. Rutherford?"

She laughed. "So you do have a sense of humor."

"When I'm not being crotchety."

"That's okay. I didn't mean to tease you about it. I'm just really glad to see Ryan showing an interest in something. Everybody's worried about him."

"Why are they worried?

"Why?" Robin picked at her croissant. "Well," she paused and cocked her head while she thought about it. "He's quitting."

"I heard that," she said casually.

"He's been acting like a recluse ever since Angie left. He's a great cop—don't get me wrong—but it's like he's a secret agent or something."

Camilla laughed, and it felt good. "A secret agent? He doesn't really blend into the woodwork, that guy."

"I don't mean like that. I mean it's like you can see him every day and not really have a clue what's going on inside him. And now, out of the blue, he's leaving us."

"Well, you know what happened—with Sara, don't you?" Camilla paused, not sure how to say it.

"About her death?" Robin nodded. "Of course. But that's the thing. He's never said one word to anybody about what happened. He just acts like everything's okay, goes about his business, and then, bam! He up and quits."

"After his divorce it must have been tough to stay on."

"Yeah. Angie owned that little Stockdale he's living in, and when he asked me to list it for sale, I figured he was just trying to move on. I've got an apartment I told him he could rent once it sells, and he just shrugged. He never said he was going to leave. Like I said, he just totally Does.Not.Talk.About.It."

"Poor guy." Camilla picked at the red napkin holding her croissant. "I think he's still really grieving about it." She didn't feel right telling about how he'd broken down when he'd told her about Sara. The more she saw him around other people—and the more she heard about him from Robin—the more she wondered why he'd opened up to her about it.

Robin arched an eyebrow. "You've been in town two days. How do you know all about it?"

Camilla took a bite of croissant and pondered how to answer without contributing to the gossip, but Robin just nodded as if she'd answered.

"He's told you," she stated.

Camilla nodded.

"So it sounds like you guys are close...?" Robin let it hang there.

Camilla felt herself blush, and just shrugged. She had no idea what they were. Except in a dangerous position. That she was sure about.

"Good," Robin said. "Like I said, you're gonna bring him out of his shell. He seems like a really great guy, but just so, so...."

"Overbearing? Pushy? Difficult?"

"I was going to say quiet, but all those words work too."

"An oak tree," Camilla muttered.

"That's a good way of putting it."

"Anyway, so I guess the for sale sign on the Honeymoon Cottage will be coming down?" She grinned.

Camilla shook her head. "I'm not staying."

"You're not? Oh." Robin seemed disappointed. "So are you thinking of leaving together?"

"Of course not!"

"Well then why are you leaving?"

How could she stay in a town where every thing she did was broadcast all over town the minute she did it? But Robin actually seemed hurt, and she felt herself babbling. "I just need to find a new place to start over. Somewhere I can make a fresh start, where nobody knows what happened at my last job."

"This is a good place for fresh starts," Robin said eagerly. "You haven't had a chance to get to know the place yet. I made a fresh start here after my divorce."

"Divorce?"

Robin shook her head. "No changing the subject. My personal drama can wait for another time. Why can't you stay here?"

"Mabel Rutherford has told everyone in town I'm a criminal."

"So? Nobody believes anything she says. Okay, some do. But you can't live your life worrying about the Mabel Rutherfords of the world."

She'd spent her whole life worrying about others' opinions. How could she stop? "Anyway, I need to sell the house to pay off my debts."

"It's too bad you can't keep the Honeymoon Cottage," Robin mused. "I think you and Oliver would do well there. They need some more kids on Cliff Drive."

"Can't afford it," Camilla said. Who cared if that news would be all over town by evening? "I owe a truckload of money and the sale will bail me out—no pun intended."

Robin laughed. "That's all right. But you don't have to leave town. I've got a cute rental above Santos' Market. The one I was trying to palm off on Ryan."

Camilla shook her head. "Santos' Market? Gossip Central? I don't think so."

"Well then you'll get the gossip before everybody else." She grinned. "Okay, so the apartment occasionally gets aromatic when Santos' has a special on tamales, but other than that, it's darling. Pine floors, big windows...."

Camilla shook her head again. "Nope."

"No?" Clearly Robin had gone into real estate agent mode and was in full sales-pitch. "It's got an ocean view. Well, sort-of an ocean view. Really a glimpse of blue between the rooftops. Okay, more of a view of the seagulls roosting on the roof. But it is cute—that's no lie. And it's just big enough for you and Oliver."

"I can't. I need to get a job. I need a big city with a lot of companies for that." A place to get lost in a sea of anonymity.

"What do you do?"

"I was an accountant in the payroll department of Cordova Computing. Before I got fired."

"Cordova Computing?" She whistled. "Wow. That's a heck of a reference." She paused. "So, you have an accounting license and all that stuff?"

Camilla nodded. "Yeah. All that stuff. But I don't have a job, Robin."

"That's a bummer. Well, I guess you can't use them as a reference after what happened. But you didn't do anything wrong, right? Is there anyone you used to work with who could vouch for you? Say you were honest and trustworthy and brilliant and all that?"

"Actually Felix Cordova told me he'd write me a reference once it's all straightened out."

Robin lit up. "Really? The astronaut genius guy himself will vouch for you?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He had to let me go until the payroll problem gets resolved, but he told me I could come back when my name is cleared."

"He did? So you do have a job! That's great."

"No. I can't go back there."

"Why not?"

"Everyone there knows what happened."

"That you were the victim of a crime, but your boss—one of the smartest scientists in the world—believes in you enough to give you a second chance?"

"Well, when you put it that way it doesn't sound as bad as my way."

"Which is?"

"That everyone would think of me as a criminal and no one would ever trust me."

"Well, that's a stupid way to think of it."

Camilla stared at her.

"Well, it is. Man, if I could get a reference from Felix Cordova I wouldn't ignore it."

"I guess."

"No guessing. Gee, girl, you know what you need?"

"What?"

"More chocolate." She handed her the pastry bag.

~*~

Chapter 8

The look on Ryan's face when he entered the substation must've showed what he was thinking, because Joe jumped to his feet.

"What's up, Sir?" Joe and he rarely bothered with "sir" and "deputy" when they were alone, but Joe obviously realized he wasn't in the mood for small talk.

"Sit down, Serrano."

Joe sat back down at his desk. "Yes, Sir." He watched Ryan warily. "Is something wrong?"

Ryan felt like a lion whose pride had been attacked. He prowled back and forth across the office, shaking with anger. He had to pull himself together. This was getting him nowhere.

"Yeah," he finally said, stopping in the middle of the floor. "Something's wrong."

Ryan grabbed a rolling whiteboard from the corner, yanking it so hard it banged into the opposite wall.

"This is going to stop, now."

"What's going to stop?" Joe asked.

Ryan could feel the adrenalin surging through him. He was on the trail of a mystery and he wasn't going to stop until he solved it. And what if he didn't solve it before he was scheduled to leave town? That wasn't an option. He would solve it. Then he could move on with a clear conscience, knowing he'd done his job right.