Читать книгу Lethal Lawman - Carla Cassidy - Страница 12

Chapter 3

She’d had the horrible nightmare again the night before. It was unusual to suffer through it two nights in a row, but Marlene suspected the break-in was what had prompted the night terror to once again disturb her sleep.

She now sat at the tiny table in her apartment, waiting for Larry Samson to arrive with a solid new door and strong locks. She’d already been downstairs to speak to Minnie, who had been horrified by the fact that somebody had broken into the apartment and angry when she’d told Marlene she thought she’d seen Michael Arello hanging around the building around four yesterday afternoon.

The strong possibility that it had been Michael was actually a relief. She could handle an angry kid who broke dishes and overturned plants to vent his anger. What she couldn’t handle was anything from her past leaping into her present.

She jumped and spilled her coffee as a knock fell on her door, even though she’d been expecting the arrival of Larry. It just went to show that she wasn’t as cool and calm as she wanted to be.

“Morning, Marlene,” Larry greeted her as she opened her door.

“Good morning, Larry,” she replied.

“Sorry about your problems last night, but I’m going to fix you up just fine. I’ve got a new solid-core door downstairs that nobody is going to come through and it’s got both a good solid key lock and a dead bolt.”

“Sounds wonderful to me.” She grabbed a paper towel and sopped up the spilled coffee. “Do you need me to do anything?”

“Not a thing, except stay out of my way.” Larry grinned, exposing a missing front tooth.

“That I can do,” Marlene replied. “I’m going into my bedroom. Help yourself to the coffee if you want any.”

“Will do, thanks.” He turned and disappeared from the door, his heavy work boots clomping on every step downward.

Larry Samson’s old red pickup was a familiar sight around town. Unofficially he was the handyman everyone used for everything from fixing faulty plumbing to repairing a wooden porch.

He had the kind of weathered, wrinkled face that made it impossible to guess his age. He might be in his fifties; he could be in his seventies.

Marlene knew he wasn’t married and that he lived in one of the cabins in the mountains that cradled the small town of Wolf Creek. He was as much a part of the small town as the Wolf’s Head Tavern, which was rumored to have been the first official business built to form the town.

Once in her bedroom she made up her bed and grabbed the laptop. Seated in the center of the pink bedspread, she turned on the laptop and found the files of recipes she had been keeping for years and continued to add to whenever a creative baking idea struck her.

There had been a time when these special recipes were meant to be the cornerstone of her own bakery on Main Street. The plan had always been that she’d work the store with Sheri until she had the seed money to start her own business.

Marlene’s Magic Bites—the place would have a pink-and-black awning over the door and inside not only big glass display cases for her goodies but also tall tables with stools for anyone who wanted to sit and enjoy their sweet bites inside.

Now it was a dream that would never be realized, a dream that had died, along with most of her soul, in Pittsburgh. She closed the file and instead pulled up the list of store inventory and made a note of what she and Sheri needed to order in the next couple of days.

By noon the new door was installed and she’d showered and dressed for the day at the store. Before leaving the apartment, she locked both the lower lock and the dead bolt, and pocketed the new set of keys. She was confident that there would be no repeat of what she’d walked into the evening before.

Although it was early for her shift at the shop, she had decided to go on in. She enjoyed the company of Sheri and their help, Jennifer and Abe, and the silence of her apartment had felt oppressive this morning despite Larry’s work on the door.

While she was relatively certain that the break-in had been the work of Michael Arello, the whole incident had left her jumpy and on edge and ready to leave the apartment for the day.

She rolled down the car window to allow in the fresh spring air, and tried to empty her mind, to achieve the faint shield of numbness that had become a comfortable, familiar companion.

As she pulled around to the parking in the back of the store, there was only one car in the front parking lot. Business usually picked up later in the afternoon and would only get better as the summer season got into full swing.

She paused before getting out of the car to check her purse and make sure she had her cell phone. She was vaguely surprised that she hadn’t heard from Frank yet. Surely he’d had time to talk to Michael Arello by now.

Satisfied that she had her phone, she got out of the car and entered the shop through the back door and into the storage area. Abe sat at the picnic table where they all took their breaks, a large submarine sandwich on a paper plate before him.

“Hey, Marlene.” He greeted her with a smile. Abe Winslow was the person both Sheri and Marlene depended on not just for heavy lifting but also so that the store had a male presence, making it less likely that somebody would try to take advantage of a shop full of women.

“Hi, Abe. Has it been busy this morning?”

He shook his head. “Slow day, but hopefully things will pick up later.”

“That sandwich looks big enough to feed a family of four,” she said teasingly.

“Just right for a big guy like me,” he replied and patted his slightly protruding stomach. “All that’s missing is a nice big hunk of one of your aunt Liz’s pies or cakes.”

A stab of pain pierced through Marlene’s heart as she thought of her missing aunt. “Hopefully you’ll get some of her pies or cakes again in the near future.” With a wave of her hand, she left the storage area and went into the main shop, where Sheri stood behind the register and a husband and wife attempted to corral three children running through the aisles.

“Hey, sis,” Sheri greeted her. “I heard about the drama at your place last night.”

“Let me guess...Roxy. She came running up the stairs like a short Amazon warrior ready to kick butt.”

Sheri laughed. “That’s our Roxy.” Her laughter died. “Seriously, are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine. I had Larry Samson come by first thing this morning and put in a door that a Titan couldn’t get through. I’ve just been waiting for an update from Frank to see if the culprit was the little stinker Michael.”

“I should have never given him a second chance after knowing he’d stolen from Roxy’s place,” Sheri said regretfully.

Marlene smiled. “But that’s what you do. Roxy kicks butt and you give people second chances. It’s hard to believe we all came from the same mother.”

“Speaking of which, did Frank happen to mention if he’s found out where Ramona might be holed up?”

“He still hasn’t managed to find her anywhere,” Marlene replied. “I’m going to go straighten up some of the shelves,” she said as the shopping family approached the register carrying a variety of items.

Marlene began to walk the aisles, straightening items as she went. Her thoughts centered suddenly on the mother who had abandoned them all. Ramona Marcoli, Liz’s much-younger sister, had left Wolf Creek when she’d been seventeen years old. Eight years later she’d returned just long enough to drop off seven-year-old Roxy on Liz’s doorstep, and then a little over four years later had dropped off four-year-old Marlene. Sheri had come four years after that as a newborn.

Liz had taken in each of her sister’s children as her own, and it was rare that Marlene even thought about the woman who had given birth to them. She had only vague memories of those first four years of her life, and she didn’t even remember what Ramona looked like.

But Ramona had become a person of interest in Liz’s disappearance, and the fact that Frank and the other detectives had been unable to locate Ramona was the only reason Roxy and Sheri continued to maintain hope that Liz would turn up alive and well.

Marlene didn’t entertain the same fantasy. She didn’t believe in fairy-tale happy endings. Although she spoke differently aloud, she was a realist and after this length of time she believed Liz was dead. It was a belief she hadn’t shared with her sisters or anyone else, but rather an ache in her soul that she kept to herself.

The afternoon passed slowly, with few customers, and by four o’clock Marlene shooed Sheri out of the store. They’d already sent Jennifer home.

“Get out of here,” Marlene had said to Sheri. “There’s no point in both of us being here with Abe and no customers.”

After a weak protest, Sheri had grabbed her purse and left. Marlene sat on a stool behind the register while Abe worked in the storeroom unloading a shipment of the latest in Wolf Creek souvenirs.

She assumed that since Frank hadn’t called her he had no definitive answers for her. She’d hoped that Frank had confronted Michael by now and that Michael had fallen to his knees and confessed.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered aloud and stood as a customer came into the shop.

It was just before six when Abraham Zooker pulled up in his horse and carriage. Abraham was one of the Amish who lived on the nearby settlement and often brought in new pieces of furniture to sell on consignment.

He stopped in the store about once a week, either to bring something new or to check on the sales of the items he’d already brought in to sell.

This time he brought nothing inside with him except a smile. “Good evening, Marlene. I was driving from town to my home and decided to stop by.”

“I’m glad you did. We sold one of your quilt racks and a cupboard this past week.” She opened the register and pulled out an envelope that had his name written on it. Inside would be an accounting of the sale of the items and the money due to him.

“I thank you,” he said as he took the envelope. “And if you have room in the store I thought perhaps next week I’d bring in a bookcase I’ve been working on.”

“We always have room for your things,” Marlene replied. The older Amish man was a gifted crafter of fine furniture and they had been very successful in selling many of his beautiful pieces.

Abraham stayed only a few minutes making small talk about the weather and spring planting and then finally left. He had no wife and she rarely saw him with others from the Amish settlement, but he seemed satisfied creating sturdy, well-made, beautiful furniture for others to enjoy.

Around seven o’clock, Frank Delaney’s familiar car pulled up in front of the store. There were no other customers and she’d sent Abe home a few minutes before, deciding that she’d close the store at this time again tonight.

At the sight of Frank getting out of his car, her stomach twisted into a knot of tension. It was a tension she wasn’t sure was created by the fact that he was hot and handsome and set her senses on edge, or if it was because if he told her that Michael Arello wasn’t responsible for the mess in her apartment the night before then she had to wonder who in this small town might hate her enough to invade and destroy her personal space. Or if the evil man from her past had for some reason entered into her present?

* * *

Frank had specifically waited until this late in the evening to stop by and touch base with Marlene, hoping there would be no customers in the store and he would have a few minutes alone with her.

It was ridiculous, how much she’d been on his mind throughout the day. He had spent the daytime hours speaking with the Arellos and interviewing Minnie and anyone else who might have seen Michael lurking around the area of the apartment the day before.

But he’d also spent far too much time wondering if her pale blond hair was as silky as it looked, if her ice-blue eyes would deepen in hue and light with fire when she made love.

He hadn’t thought this way about a woman since his wife’s death. He’d noticed Marlene the first time she’d come in with her sisters to file a report on their missing aunt, and for the past month he’d tried to fight against his growing attraction to her.

Today he’d lost the battle. He had no idea if she might be attracted to him, but tonight he intended to find out. He wasn’t looking for any happily ever after; he wasn’t even looking for long-term.

But when he’d awakened that morning on his sofa, he’d been struck with a core of loneliness that had made him realize he was hungry for female companionship. He was hungry for Marlene’s companionship.

He walked into the store, pleased to see her standing behind the register. “Marlene,” he said in greeting.

“Frank, I was wondering if I was going to hear anything from you today.”

“Sorry it’s so late, but I wanted to make sure I had a solid answer for you.” He took several steps closer to the counter, noting how the light blue of her blouse intensified the glacier-blue of her eyes.

“And do you have a solid answer for me?” She leaned forward, appearing to vibrate with tension.

At that moment Frank wanted nothing more than to step around the counter and pull her into his arms to ease the tension, the faint whisper of fear that shimmered in the very depths of her eyes.

He couldn’t hold her to take away any fear, but he could do it by telling her what had happened throughout the day. “I definitely have a solid answer. It took me all day long, but after Michael had a long talk with his parents, and then realized you weren’t going to press charges, he confessed.”

He heard her audible sigh of relief and he continued, “He was mad at you and wanted to do something to vent his anger. Even though you have decided not to press charges, for the next four weeks Michael is going to be picking up trash along Main Street for three hours a day, three days a week. It was an agreement his parents encouraged him to take.”

She nodded, as if satisfied with the arrangement. “I’m just glad it’s all been resolved. Did he say why he keeps stealing food? I mean, honestly, he could have walked out our back door with all kinds of expensive items instead of just a box of bread and a couple of jars of apple butter.”

“Unfortunately, no matter how hard I pushed him the only answer I could get out of him about the food was that it was all for him.”

“Strange, but I guess growing young men eat a lot,” she replied.

“Trust me, my father used to complain that he needed two jobs just to buy groceries when I was younger. And speaking of my father, he’s retiring from the fire department next week and I’ve always teased him that when that time came I’d make sure he had a good rocking chair.”

She gestured toward the furniture section on the other side of the store. “We have several here if what you want is a good, sturdy Amish-made rocker.”

“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” he replied and was pleased when she stepped out from behind the counter to walk with him to the furniture area.

As usual she looked cool and elegant in her pale blue blouse and a pair of tailored navy slacks. Small gold hoops hung from her ears, visible only when she tucked that shiny hair behind an ear.

“Abraham Zooker makes all the furniture we sell,” she said as she led him to three rocking chairs.

“I know Abraham and his work. I’ve got a couple of his pieces in my home.” He ran a hand over the top of one of the rockers, admiring the smoothness of the wood.

“This one is my favorite,” she said as she focused his attention on an old-fashioned platform rocker. Her features appeared warmer, more alive as she spoke of the chair. “It also has a footstool that goes with it, and it glides so smoothly. Go ahead, have a seat,” she encouraged him.

Self-consciously he eased down into the chair and rocked a couple of times and then stood. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

“Abraham will be so pleased,” she replied. And then she smiled. It was the first time he’d seen a genuine smile curve her lips and light up her features, and the power of it punched him square in the gut with a starburst of heat.

“Uh, unfortunately, I can pay for it today, but I’ll have to come back tomorrow with my pickup truck to take it home.”

“That’s fine,” she replied as they walked back to the register.

The transaction was completed and still Frank lingered. “I thought this was about the time you closed up shop,” he said.

“During the summers we normally stay open until nine, but I’ve been shutting down around seven right now since the busy tourist trade hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“So I’m your last customer of the day.”

“It appears so.”

“Do you like Chinese food?”

She blinked twice, as if to process the abrupt change in the conversation. “I love it.”

“Could I interest you in having dinner with me at Chang Li’s?”

Her cheeks turned a dusty pink. “Oh, thank you for the invitation, but I don’t date.”

“Not even for a quick bite to eat?”

“No, not even for that.” She appeared to find the top of the counter fascinating.

Fierce disappointment swept through him. “No problem. It was just a thought. At least we managed to get to the bottom of your intruder last night, and Michael knows he’s on a short leash, as far as I’m concerned. The next time I hear about him being involved in any stealing or break-ins or destruction of property, I’ve let him know that he’ll face charges no matter what.”

“That’s good. It sounds like what he needs is a little tough love.” She finally met his gaze again.

“If you’re ready to leave, I’ll walk you to your car.” Surely there was no way she could turn down this gentlemanly request from him.

The smile had long ago fallen from her features and now she frowned, dancing a faint wrinkle across her forehead. “I’m parked out back.”

“That’s okay. You lock up or do whatever you need to do in here and I’ll see you to your car and then walk back around to mine.” He wasn’t sure why he was so insistent. He only knew a desire to get her to see him as more than a detective working on her missing aunt’s case.

She shrugged. “All right.” An awkward silence descended between them as she took a few minutes to close out the register and then lock the front doors.

He followed behind her through the huge storage room and then out the back door, where the sun had lowered in the sky. Her car was the only one in the small lot and as she reached it she unlocked the driver’s-side door and then turned to face him.

“Thank you for seeing me to my car, although it wasn’t really necessary.”

He nodded. “I know. It was just something I wanted to do.” He hesitated a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind about getting some dinner? It doesn’t have to be tonight. You pick the night...whenever.”

“Positive, but I do appreciate the invitation.”

Frank shifted from one foot to the other, feeling like a hormone-driven teenager. “Is it me specifically or is it just a general rule that you don’t date?”

“Oh, Frank, it’s definitely not you.” She placed her hand on his arm, her touch warming him through the suit jacket he wore. “It’s just that I’ve already had my chance at a relationship and it was a dismal failure. I’m not in a place where I want to try it again with anyone.” She dropped her hand to her side.

“So, you don’t find me ugly or abhorrent or anything like that.”

He was rewarded by her laugh, a tinkling musical sound that mingled with the last calls of the day birds from the nearby woods.

“No, not at all.” Once again her cheeks blossomed with a faint pink color and for a brief moment he thought he saw a touch of yearning in her eyes. “Actually, I find you quite attractive, but that doesn’t change my rule. Good night, Frank.” She opened her car door and slid in behind the wheel.

He watched as she drove off, oddly encouraged despite the fact that he’d been shut down. She found him quite attractive. It wasn’t much, but it was a beginning...something he could build on. All he needed was a little persistence, a little patience and a lot of charm, and he had a feeling he had a possible chance to change Marlene’s no-dating rule.

* * *

He stood with his back pressed against one of the trees in the woods near the back parking lot of the Roadside Stop, watching the tall, beautiful blonde and the detective together.

They liked each other. It was obvious in the subtle way they leaned toward each other as they spoke, in the way he’d made her laugh.

Hatred ripped through his body, twisting his guts and making him feel half-nauseated. Even after Marlene Marcoli and Detective Frank Delaney had left the parking area, he remained against the rough tree bark, his entire being filled with his rage.

She was nothing more than a cold, uncaring witch and Frank had enough sins on his head to weigh him down straight to hell. There would be no angels singing at the pearly gates for the two of them when they died, and he would see to it that they didn’t die a natural death.

They didn’t know it yet, but he was an avenging angel. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. Avenging Angel. He liked that.

Killers who had special names always attained notoriety, from the Night Stalker to the Craigslist Killer; regular people loved to have special names for their monsters.

He sniffed and wiped his nose, a chill letting him know he was on the verge of getting dope sick. Time to go home and take care of himself. Once he was strong and well, driven by his hatred and the heightened senses and endless energy that cocaine always gave him, he’d put together his plans to destroy the two people he’d just seen in the parking lot.