The Throwbacks (12 page)

“I get it—she’s too good for me,” David interrupted.

He was still looking at her with his sad man-about-town smile, his pretense at carefree, as Grace shook her head “no” to disagree with every single word that Mabel said.

David said good-bye to his aunt, ended the call, and handed her back her phone. Then he turned away and walked toward his kitchen. He disappeared for a moment, rummaging around in his cabinets. She tapped her toe as she waited for him to return, no doubt with some glib remark about his Aunt Mabel. She would have a talk with Mabel, who needed to be convinced that Grace did
not
need protecting—not in this instance, anyway.

David returned with two glasses in hand, the same smile on his face and a shake of his head.

“Like everyone else in the world who knows you, my sweet young woman, Mabel wants to be your protector too. She wants to protect you from the likes of me. But I believe she is now assured that your virtue is safe since we are only conducting a business relationship—the decorating of my townhouse.” David took a long swallow of water and handed her the other glass. “By the by, you might not want to mention your foray into the detective business to her. Keep that our little secret. My aunt worries about my law enforcement career—especially since the incident involving my wife. She’s protective even of me.”

She had the feeling he was watching for her response to all this with a great deal of curiosity. She was curious herself about what she might say. She had no clue how she felt. Now everything was jumbled up—the news that Mabel, her adoptive aunt, was David’s real aunt—did that make them somehow related, or maybe in the same family of people? And how was it that she never met him or heard of him before? She’d known the woman a good five years and had been to many family occasions and met many of her relatives. Now that she thought of it, they were hush-hush about the branch over in the UK. That could have been David and his family.

And then there was the age difference. As she looked at him with all her confusion and adoration showing, she had to admit that he was much older than the average groom and potential father. But she just knew he would be a wonderful father and there was no worry that he hadn’t had a chance to sow his wild oats. David’s oats were sown and then some. Maybe she wasn’t as confused as she thought after all.

“I love your Aunt Mabel, David. I actually consider her my own adopted aunt—as she may have mentioned—we’re very close. But I’m sure she’s overreacting and I’m not too worried about…how things may work out between us. After all, it would be between us—you and me—right?”

“Of course…anything between us would be for us to work out, but…we should concentrate on the decorating.” David had that sad look again. Then the flash of emotion disappeared and was replaced by his urbane persona. “I’m very curious to hear about all your plans. As I said before, the sketch is lovely. I’m pleased with your taste. You’ve nailed me…er, I mean, you’ve captured my…well, you know what I mean,” he said with a hint of mischief beneath his smile.

Grace felt a flutter of connection and longing to embrace this man right then and there. She was tempted to respond to his mischief, but instead she took a deep breath and, with an inner patience she never guessed was there, she refrained. Must have been inherited from one of her unknown relatives and decided to show itself when it mattered most. David mattered to her and she wanted to win him over. However long it took.

“Of course, let me show you the upholstery samples—mostly for the colors,” she said with her eyes on his. She reached into her bag, still watching him instead of what she was doing, and pulled out a swath of burgundy fabric. “What do you think,” she asked as she pulled the sumptuous cloth across her arm in a great show.

Instead of an answer, his phone rang. He reached in his pocket and gestured with his index finger for her to wait a minute, put the phone to his ear and said, “Young here.”

“Hello David—Esther here.”

Grace heard and wondered.

T
HE sound of Esther’s voice reminded him of the forbidden-Grace promise and he stepped away into the hallway as he registered what the dear woman was saying.

“…so of course I’m striking while the iron is hot and I’ve arranged your date with Maria—our French teacher—for tomorrow night. I checked with Dan and he said you had nothing more important to do than straighten out your laughable personal life—quote unquote.” Esther heaved a deep sigh.

“My sentiments exactly,” he said. “What have you arranged? Do I have time for this outing with the clock ticking on our investigation?”

“Don’t worry about the investigation. You can spare time for dinner—you’re going to the Museum of Fine Arts Exhibit of French Masters and then to a French restaurant—the best one in town. Dan said not to spare your wallet since you’re a closet millionaire, again quote unquote.” This time there was a hint of mischief in her voice along with the anxiety. Esther was one of those women who took on any new venture as if it were the equivalent of going into a lightning storm with a kite—she still did it, but with much trepidation.

“Don’t worry, Esther. My wallet can stand it if I can. What time shall I pick her up and where does the lovely appropriately aged woman live?”

That made Esther chuckle. “Oh, this is the coup de gras of Dan’s plan—because you know he’s taken over this matchmaking effort with a promising zeal. You’ll pick her up at our house at six and we’ll have cocktails—to loosen things up. Dan figured he’d allow you to fortify yourself before sending you on this mission…”

“Don’t tell me—quote unquote,” David finished for her. This time she really laughed. David frowned. Eventually there would be payback for Dan’s playful foray into matchmaking, but he knew underneath it all there was a serious intent. That was what really disturbed him. He couldn’t shake that feeling of impending doom. He signed off on his call with Esther, turned and walked back to where Grace was setting up her display on the only appropriate surface in the place, the breakfast bar in the kitchen. She welcomed him with her usual brilliant smile.

“Can I offer you a drink?” He went around to the kitchen side to get a drink for himself. He could use fortification right now, but he thought better of it.

“That sounds lovely—I’ll have a cosmopolitan with a twist of lime and a sugared rim,” she said. She had a straight face and he raised his brow.

“I’m fresh out,” he said.

Then she laughed with that same zeal he admired when they first met.

“What are you having?” she asked.

“How about lemonade straight up.” He placed the carton in front of her. She was a kick. There was something about her that struck him. Maybe it was her constant equivocation between the persona of a clueless bombshell and that of a witty, talented and confident beauty. She kept his head spinning and his eyes popping, and if he was to be perfectly honest with himself, his mouth watering. She laughed again as if she could read his mind.

“Sounds refreshing. I’ll have the same.”

He poured her a glass and wished fervently that she were twenty years older. Then as he took a generous gulp of his drink, he wished even more fervently that he were twenty-five years younger.

He didn’t have a chance to lapse any further into his pit of self-pity when his phone rang again. Grace raised her drink to his as he slid his hand along the well-worn path toward his breast pocket to retrieve his phone. This time he answered with a modicum of trepidation. There were very few people who had his number—and most of them had already called.

It was his barrister from the UK.

“Could I ask you to call me back at a more convenient time?” He winked at Grace, who was grinning. But Roland’s response of “
no
” sobered him up. He excused himself to Grace and went into his would-be den, which presently was just another empty room with a few boxes of paper shoved in the closet.

“I could call you back with details, but I have to tell you to book a plane as soon as possible. You’re scheduled for the day after tomorrow for an interrogation by the commission on internal affairs,” his barrister said in an urgent voice.

“I see.” David let the stunning news settle. He realized that in the middle of current events, there was nowhere to fit in a trip to London. “What’s this about? I thought the matter was settled last year before they sent me stateside to set up this exchange program.”

“Your late wife’s relations raised an issue or two. They want their pound of flesh. Now the commission needs you to answer the new spate of accusations and innuendos raised at the estate hearing that have been generously referred to as evidence.” Roland paused. “Sorry. I’m livid.”

“Oh? I took no notice. I’ll be there. They can have as many pounds of my flesh as they require to put an end to the matter. The estate matter, that is.”

“You’re being too good about this,” Roland said, still angry on his behalf.

“It’s nothing. My wife was murdered. I chased down her killer against orders and killed him. That was something.”

“And you were shot. You forgot to include that. And it’s a good thing you were. At least there was no fear that you’d be held accountable for murder—it was ironclad that you acted in self-defense.”

David smiled at the downtrodden voice of his friend and attorney. “Don’t worry, Roland. You’ve done your best. You’ve shielded me from dealing with the purgatory of the last year of wrangling with the estate matters. I’ll be there for the final interrogation.”

Once he concluded his surprise conversation with Roland, he went back out to face Grace. She was taking some measurements and concentrating over her pencil and paper as she jotted the numbers down. He watched her for a second and then heaved a sigh.

“News from ‘across the pond’ as you would term it.” He wasn’t going to tell her the whole story. No need to worry her, he thought, and then realized how ridiculous that was. Why should she worry about him? But all the same, he knew she would if he told her.

“Looks like I’ll be taking a trip back to the UK to take care of some loose ends.”

“Oh, how fun. When will that be? You’ll probably be happy to visit with old friends and relatives after a year,” she bubbled.

“In two days.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can decorate around your schedule,” she said. “But the chief may be disappointed not to have your help on the case.”

“I’m sure they’ll get along without me for a day.” He didn’t elaborate that he had no intention of visiting with friends—and especially not his relations.

“Going all that way for just a day?” Grace put down her measuring tape and gave him her full attention. She looked worried already. He gave her a reassuring smile, and one for himself too.

“As you said, I don’t want to be away from the case too long. We only have seven days to solve it before the jig is up. Then the mayor will disclose the fact that there was no murder—hopefully we’ll have captured the perpetrators to avoid any additional attempts. By the way, don’t forget this is all very top secret. You and Theresa will have to keep this amongst the two of you alone—right?”

“Don’t you worry. The secrets are all safe with me. Maybe you should make me a temporary assistant deputy or something—I saw them do it once on
Andy of Mayberry
.” She appeared serious.

He reached back to the very recesses of his boyhood memories to dredge the
Andy of Mayberry
TV series from the cobwebs and wondered exactly what Miss Rogers thought of the Boston Police Department. The similarities—aside from the badge—were resoundingly absent.

“Bloody good idea.” Naturally he was kidding.

“Really? This is so exciting!” Naturally she took him seriously.

He chuckled and made a mental note to get her some kind of badge or other from the chief. Maybe he should have her sign a paper swearing her to secrecy. It was ridiculous that a sensitive police matter had been shared with a decorator. But this was Grace and at least she’d proved to be helpful. “In that case, Deputy, are we on for our interview with Dr. Doris this afternoon?”

“At 4:00 p.m. sharp,” she reported, suddenly all business and packing her things away.

He looked at his watch.