Whisper of Revenge (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 4) (3 page)

Lines formed between his eyebrows, maybe at whatever he saw
on her face.  “Did you take a stab at—” 

“Finding out where the puppy came from?  Yes.  I called the
shelter.  I dug out last Sunday’s Tribune and called every free puppy ad.”

“You’re so sure he was free?”

“There’s no way he’s a purebred anything.”

Elias nodded.  “I’ll take your word for it.”  He hesitated. 
“Anybody in particular talk to you about the puppy?”

She made a face.  “Who hasn’t?”

She kind of thought Patrick Fletcher – call me “Fletch” –
had been the first.  He’d said, “What’s this I hear about a puppy?”  When she
rolled her eyes, he’d laughed.  “At least I had enough foresight to sell you a
house with a fenced yard.”  Fletch was a prominent local Realtor who had found
her the space for her business as well as her house.

Oh, Lord – what if she’d had to spend the money now to
fence?  She had thanked him fervently.

Since then…practically every customer had teased her about
her latest surprise.  Searching each of their faces, she’d wondered which one
of them was responsible.  Having to doubt every expression, every amiable
comment, had her feeling sick.

Elias had been watching her, no doubt reading her thoughts. 
Now, he lifted his gaze past her.  “Our conversation is annoying several of
your customers.”

“What?”  She turned her head, to see that Ron Campbell, Rand
Bresler and Fletch were among those who had their eyes trained on her and
Elias.  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” she muttered.  “Everyone in there is staring. 
This is Cape Trouble.”

He gave a rusty chuckle.  “I haven’t heard anyone say that
in a long time.”

“That?  Oh.”  For pity’s sake.  “I picked it up from Louella
Shoop.”

“I shouldn’t keep you.”  He shoved his hands into his jeans
pockets.  “I’ve been worrying about you.”

So much he’d stayed away.  “I’m sure there’s no need.”

“I think you should go to Colburn.  Just in case there’s an
escalation.”

“An escalation.”  She sounded like an idiot.

“What if you say no to the wrong person?  How’s he going to
take it?”

“You’re scaring me.”

He huffed with frustration.  “I’m trying to.”

“I…”  Remembering her shock when she saw the mug – never
mind the puppy – she sighed.  “All right.  I guess it won’t hurt anything.”

“Have him come by here.  Maybe your admirer will see him and
back off.”

“Chief Colburn is a pretty regular customer, so that’s
unlikely.”

Elias grimaced.  “Okay.  Hannah…”  He glanced toward the
other room again, rolled his shoulders and said, “This is lousy timing.”

She frowned at him in perplexity.  “For what?”

He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then shook his
head.  “Never mind.  Ah, I’d like to be here when you talk to Colburn, though.”

She felt odd, as if a cavity inside her had filled with
helium that might have her rising gently toward the ceiling.  Except…she
thought it might be hope.  Had Elias Burton considered asking her out?

But a deep breath displaced anything silly like hope. 
“Sure.  I’ll call him right now.”

Wonderful.  All the man of her dreams wanted was to be sure
she didn’t downplay her fears to the police chief.  Good to know he cared.  Not
so good that he thought she
was
downplaying what should be real worry.

A band tightened around her chest.  He was right.  The puppy
had been an attempt to get to her using her child.  The thought chilled her. 
She didn’t want this man, whoever he was, anywhere near Ian.

She went to find her phone.

Settling down to think, Daniel Colburn stacked his feet on
his desk at the police station and stared straight ahead at the blank wall
above metal file cabinets.  There was a lot about Hannah Moss’s story that he
needed to consider.

Starting with his surprise that Elias Burton of all people
had been the one to press Hannah to call him.  In Daniel’s experience, Elias
wasn’t big on community involvement.  Yes, he’d readily agreed to supply the
auction artwork for the Save Misty Beach campaign, which brought in a whole lot
of money, and, yes, he’d gone so far as attend the auction held over in
Portland.  But even at the event, he had somehow remained aloof.  He had a way
of seeming alone even when surrounded by other people.

Daniel’s first acquaintance with him hadn’t been positive. 
He’d had to briefly consider the possibility that, twenty years before, a
teenage Elias Burton had murdered a summer visitor named Michelle Thomsen. 
He’d been one of the first people to reach Michelle’s then ten-year-old
daughter who had found her mother’s body and screamed until she had to be
sedated.  Elias hadn’t even denied being obsessed with Michelle.  He’d worked
that summer at Misty Beach Resort, where Michelle brought her daughter every
year for a three month stay.  That many years later, uncovering the killer had
seemed unlikely, but Daniel had been falling in love with a grown-up Sophie
Thomsen and was determined to bring her peace.  Elias had been cooperative but
hard to read, uneasy with questions about how he’d felt about Michelle. 
Sophie’s prickly reaction to Elias had muddied the waters.

In the year since, Daniel had come to believe the artist was
a decent guy, just a loner.  There was nothing wrong with his desire to keep to
himself.

So what had happened to have him stopping near daily at
Sweet Ideas to buy chocolate truffles, of all things?  Daniel had seen him
there often enough to awaken his curiosity, and there’d been a buzz around town
about Elias’s new-found fascination with books, chocolate…or the redheaded
proprietor of Sweet Ideas.  He wondered if Elias had any idea how much talk
there was.

This business of a secret admirer…  Daniel didn’t much like
it.  How were presents supposed to soften a woman up if she didn’t know what
man was giving them?  And the increasing intimacy of them, that had the small
hairs on Daniel’s nape stirring.  The whole thing might be harmless, but at the
very least it showed damn poor judgment.

He’d left his door open as he brooded, and now he raised his
voice.  “Ellie?  You got a minute?”

His dispatcher/receptionist appeared in the doorway. 
“Coffee?”

“No, I want to talk to you about something.”

Carefully plucked eyebrows raised, she took a seat.  He’d
inherited Ellie Fitzgerald from his predecessor.  In fact, she’d staffed the
Cape Trouble Police Department through half a dozen chiefs, at least.  Her
husband, Jed, owned a whale and sealife watching business that operated from
the town’s pier from April through the beginning of October every year.  She
was nosy, smart and a fount of local knowledge.  What she didn’t know, Officer
Abbot Grissom would.  Competent but unambitious, he’d been on the job close to
thirty years, content to stay in this small Oregon Coast town where he’d been
born and raised.

Abbot was out on patrol right now, but Ellie was here.

“I talked to a woman today who is being made uneasy by a
bunch of anonymous gifts.  Theoretically romantic, but smacking of a stalker. 
A friend of hers had the vague memory that something like this happened here in
town a few years back.  It wasn’t in my tenure, so I’m hoping you remember.”

She didn’t disappoint him.

“Yes, it was a woman named Lori Dressler.”  She spelled both
names when Daniel asked, then went on.  “She’d been widowed not that long
before – I guess he had a heart defect nobody knew about.  Anyway, having these
presents appearing on her doorstep really upset her.  They were all stuff her
husband had given her.  A special kind of candy, flowers that meant something
to the two of them, that kind of thing.”  Ellie’s cheeks flushed.  “It was
cruel, not romantic.  She thought someone was tormenting her, then began to
wonder if her husband had found a way to come back.  She threw a fit out on her
front porch one day, I remember that.  Started screaming about how he was dead
and she was alive and he needed to leave her alone.  A neighbor called 911 and
she was taken to the hospital.”

“Tell me that was the end of it.”

Ellie shook her head.  “She killed herself not a week
later.”

“Oh, hell,” Daniel muttered.  “Who was chief then?”

“Earl Wallace.”

Of course.  From what he’d deduced since taking this job,
Wallace was a strong contender for the dishonor of being the most incompetent
of a string of incompetents who’d held this job.

Amazed as always at the breadth of his assistant’s recall,
he sighed and leaned back in his desk chair.  “Okay, thanks, Ellie.  Doesn’t
sound like there’s any connection to the current situation.”

A ringing phone sent her back to her duties, and him to the
computer in search of anything gathered regarding Lori Dressler’s death.  There
was probably no reason for him to pursue this, but his curiosity had been
aroused.

Turned out she was only thirty-one when she died.  She and
her husband hadn’t yet had children, and the chief hadn’t noted what, if any,
family she did have.

He learned she’d shot herself, not a common choice for women
committing suicide, although it happened.  The gun had been hers; apparently
she’d purchased it after the gifts started arriving and before she concluded a
ghost was giving them to her.  She’d passed a background check okay, but he had
to wonder whether she’d had any experience using a handgun.  Wallace noted
that, with the help of some life insurance, she’d been able to hold onto her
home after her husband died, and she’d stayed working at Mist River Escrow.  If
the then-police chief had made any effort to find the real-life secret admirer,
there was no evidence to support it.

Daniel grunted in frustration.  Unlike in the case of
Michelle Thomsen’s murder – also considered a suicide at the time – Earl
Wallace hadn’t done enough even to bother with one of the white banker’s boxes
used to store evidence in serious crimes.  Evidence?  What was that?  It went
without saying that he hadn’t bothered to hold onto the handgun she had
supposedly used to kill herself.  He hadn’t fingerprinted it, hadn’t checked
for residue on her hands.  Had he even canvassed the neighbors?  If so, he
didn’t record as much.

No question the woman had gone off the rails, but she’d been
given a good, hard shove.  How could that not have bothered Chief Wallace?
Daniel wondered in disgust.

It did seem unlikely there was a connection between Lori
Dressler’s secret admirer and Hannah Moss’s.  Lori’s seemed to have been
malevolent from the get-go.  Hannah’s initial gifts had been innocuous enough,
meant to please, although the idea the guy had been eavesdropping enough to
learn her tastes made her uncomfortable for good reason.  The last two gifts
had been insensitive, to put it kindly.  The mug bothered Daniel the most, with
the suggestion her secret admirer had either been in her house or watching her
through the windows.

Despite the unlikelihood of there being any link to Lori’s
secret admirer, his earlier unease with what Hannah had to say coalesced into a
stronger, darker brew that his stomach didn’t like.  Plus, he hated having even
a suspicion that the Dressler woman hadn’t killed herself.  How had Chief
Wallace slept nights?

Daniel had suggested Hannah have a camera installed at the
back of her business, although with that flat, brick façade, hiding it wasn’t
an option.  She’d agreed, but remaining unsaid was how easily the guy could
change his delivery method.  Daniel would increase patrols at night and in the
early morning by both Sweet Ideas and her home, too, for what good that did.

Burton had used the word
escalate
.  And Daniel did
have to wonder what came next.  A pony?  A shiny new car?  A cascade of
diamonds?  And when was her secret admirer planning to go public?  After one
bouquet, he could have shrugged it off if she gently turned him down.  Now, he
was facing major humiliation.

Daniel rubbed a hand over his uneasy stomach.

Big question: how would this guy handle the inevitable
disappointment?

And then a more unpleasant thought yet crossed Daniel’s
mind.  Had Lori Dressler finally refused her secret admirer?

*****

Hands in his pockets, shoulder propped against the wall,
Elias felt useless as he watched Hannah close out the second cash register. 
She had already covered the assorted chocolate goodies remaining.  The case
kept them cool, a good thing in summer when she’d have otherwise ended up with
a melted mess or had to transfer them to a refrigerator.  Her other clerk had
left a few minutes ago.

With Hannah occupied, he studied the pale gold freckles that
gave a pretty face girl-next-door charm.  Increasingly, those freckles
intrigued him.  He’d seen a scattering on her chest.  This wasn’t the first
time he had pondered whether they appeared only on skin exposed to sun, or
whether they wandered onto her pale belly and breasts.  Just imagining those
generous breasts naked and cupped in his hands had his body stirring.  He
shifted position to hide his reaction.

“You shouldn’t close alone,” he said brusquely, knowing he
was trying to distract himself.

Hannah looked up.  “What?”

He repeated himself.  “Especially now, but it’s never smart
for one person to be alone handling the money, and then walking out to a car
parked in the alley.  Do you carry cash?  Don’t be complacent.  Muggings and
rapes happen in Cape Trouble, too.”

Hannah’s eyes, a warm brown, narrowed in warning.  “I
thought you were hanging around to be supportive.  Instead, you’re being a
Cassandra.”

“Who had the gift of prophecy but was cursed so nobody ever
believed her,” he countered.

“Really?”  She sighed.  “Okay, already.  I’ll try to ensure
I don’t close alone for the immediate future.”

The possibility of muggings and rape, she’d discounted, he
noticed.  And a promise to “try” didn’t satisfy him.

Increasingly restless, he couldn’t figure out what he was
doing here.  Yeah, he didn’t like leaving her alone, but it wasn’t as if she’d
been threatened.  And he and she didn’t have a relationship.  Until last week,
they had briefly discussed books he was buying and exchanged a few pleasantries
when he paid for his coffee.  Now he was taking responsibility for her safety? 
Bad things happened to women involved with him.  He’d long since labeled
himself a Jonah, a man who carried a jinx.  He just didn’t get involved
anymore.

Hannah had disappeared into her office.  He scowled in her
general direction.  Who was he kidding?  He hadn’t been making excuses to come
in here because she served the best coffee he’d ever had.  Earlier this
afternoon, he had come stupidly close to asking her out.  Thank God, he’d
realized in time how likely that was to freak her out.  Yep, creepy secret
admirer, and then all of a sudden known recluse Elias Burton is inexplicably
hanging around.  And then he suggests dinner?  Her heart would have pounded,
all right.  In panic.

The lights behind him on the sweets side of the business
went out.  “You ready?” Hannah called.

When her back was turned a few minutes ago, he had already
checked to be sure both front doors were locked even though he suspected she
would be insulted if she saw him.  “Coming,” he said, and started toward the
back.  The lights in the bookstore went out, too.  This being June, they
weren’t plunged into darkness, which wouldn’t fall until nine o’clock or so. 
The day had been misty, though, which left the light murky in here.  He joined
her in the short back hall and stepped out into the alley ahead of her,
scanning it as she locked up.  Two bowls beside the steps caught his eye, one
holding water, the other dried cat food.

A woman was crossing the alley to her car from two doors
down.  Plump and middle-aged, she paused, studied Elias with interest, then
smiled.  “Looks like you’re planning to have a good evening, Hannah.”

He might not be touching her, but he felt Hannah stiffen.

“I’m off to pick up Ian.  You take care, Norma.”

They walked to her aging SUV – not that he could say much. 
He’d been driving his Land Rover for fifteen years now, and saw no reason to
upgrade to a newer model.  She unlocked and tossed several money pouches onto
the passenger seat.  Elias noticed the booster car seat in the back.  He tried
not to think about the fact she had a son.

“Norma the flower lady?” he said.

“Yes.  Well, she and her husband George own the florist
shop.  George is at a conference for florists somewhere.  California?  Usually
they both go, but business has been brisk and they were afraid assistants
couldn’t keep up with it.  Plus, Norma has the magic touch.”

“Mom liked the arrangement I bought there for her last
birthday.”

Hannah stopped in the open door and smiled at him.  “That’s
sweet.  You gave your mother flowers.”

Sweet.  Had anyone ever called him that?  “I take it your
bouquet didn’t come from Norma’s place?”

Hannah shook her head, worry reappearing.  “No.”

Cursing himself, Elias said, “Hey.  All of this is probably
nothing big.  Some poor fool is trying to build up to the main event.”

She wrinkled her freckled nose.  “Which is?”

Droplets from the mist settled on her mass of copper hair. 
He took a mental snapshot of the effect – he was beginning to think he’d have
to paint Hannah, although he wasn’t yet sure he could capture the bloom of her
smile.  He itched to touch her, find out whether her strong, thick hair was
silky or coarse.  He already knew how velvety her skin was.  One stroke of his
knuckle had been enough to tell him.