Читать книгу Men to Trust - Diana Palmer - Страница 11

Violet managed to slip into her house without being seen by her mother. She was disheveled and her hair was a mess. Her mother wasn’t blind or stupid, she’d know that something torrid had been going on. To prevent any uncomfortable questions, Violet had called to her and then went straight to her room without letting herself be seen.

From there, she went to the kitchen, trying not to let her mind wander to the afternoon. Then she remembered that she’d promised to bring her mother some trout. She groaned inwardly. She heated her mother a bowl of soup and crackers for supper.

“I’m sorry about the trout,” she began. But she was beaming and she couldn’t help it.

Mrs. Hardy grinned. “Never mind that. Soup is fine. You’ve got feathers on your lips, my darling cat,” she chided. “So what’s going on with you and that dishy man?”

So much for deterring her mother’s suspicions. Violet blushed, grinning back. “The boss man is talking about rings.”

Her mother gasped. “Darling!”

Violet laughed. “Can you believe it? And we were fighting and giving each other fits just last week!”

“He didn’t really know you before, though,” the older woman pointed out as she sipped soup from a spoon. “You were too shy to be yourself with him.”

“I was,” Violet agreed, vaguely ashamed of what had happened, just the same.

“Did he mention a date?”

Violet shook her head. “We’re going to take it one day at a time,” she replied.

Mrs. Hardy only smiled. She knew that when couples got to the ring stage, weddings very often came quickly. “I’ve only ever wanted to live long enough to see you married and secure,” she said absently.

“You’d better be around longer than that,” Violet chided. “I can’t do without you!”

“Bosh,” the other woman murmured. “You’ve got your own life to live. I’m just about done with mine.”

“Don’t you talk like that,” her daughter chided. “You’re not nearly done. You have so much to look forward to!”

“Such as?” Mrs. Hardy asked, her eyes lackluster.

“Grandchildren!” she replied, and blushed again, because she could already be pregnant.

The older woman sat very still. “Grandchildren. Why…I hadn’t thought…” She glanced at Violet. “Does he want children, then?”

“Of course,” Violet said, smiling.

“He must have changed his mind,” Mrs. Hardy mused to herself.

Violet felt a sinking sensation. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s just something he mentioned that day he came over to talk to me, dear,” she said, sipping more soup. “He said that he’d never have a child.”

Violet felt sick. “Did he?”

Her mother hadn’t noticed Violet’s sudden lack of color and enthusiasm. She was thinking. “Men often think like that, until they have a child. But he was rather emphatic about it, just the same.”

“I wonder why,” Violet murmured aloud, uncomfortable.

Her mother glanced at her worriedly. “You mustn’t let on that I told you,” she said.

“Told me what, Mother?”

Mrs. Hardy grimaced. “Mr. Kemp is a very upright man these days, but he was young and irresponsible once. I’d heard something about the Culbertson girl, from a nurse I know. I asked him about it. He was shocked enough to tell me the truth about her. She was pregnant when she died. It was his child. He hadn’t known about it, although he would have married her sooner if he had. The coroner covered up her pregnancy, to spare her parents the embarrassment. But it affected him terribly. He lost not only his fiancée, but his child as well. He said that just the thought of a child gave him nightmares now, brought it all back to haunt him.”

Violet sat down, hard. It was worse than she’d imagined. Blake didn’t want children. She’d pushed him off balance and they’d had unprotected sex. He was making the best of things, but he’d never said that he loved her and he’d intimated that if she turned up pregnant, they’d have to make arrangements. Could that mean that he didn’t want a child, ever, after what had happened with his fiancée?

She felt sick to her soul. What was she going to do?

“Dear, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Hardy asked with a frown.

Violet forced a smile. “Nothing. I shouldn’t be jealous of a dead woman, should I?” she added, leading her mother right into the false conclusion that she was thinking about Shannon.

Mrs. Hardy relaxed. “Yes, dear. You shouldn’t.”

Violet changed the subject. But she didn’t sleep very much that night. She was sick with worry. How could she have been so blind and stupid? She was going to pay a high price for her one hour of passion. She’d thought it was worth anything at the time. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

She went to work Monday morning with uncertain feelings. She dreaded and anticipated seeing Blake again, both at once. Duke Wright smiled at her as he put her to work on new herd records, and he looked as if he might have known something about her day at Blake Kemp’s house. But he didn’t say anything.

Curt did. He grinned at her as he paused beside her desk. “I hear you were out at Kemp’s place over the weekend,” he murmured.

She gasped. “How…?”

“Jacobsville is a small town,” he said pleasantly. “Kemp’s driveway faces a major highway. Your car would stick out in a parking lot.”

She grimaced. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Stop looking so tragic,” he said gently. “You’re both free and single. Nobody’s going to make snide remarks to either of you about spending an afternoon together. Is it true about the cats?” he added quickly.

“What…about the cats?”

“That they’re so jealous of Kemp that visitors can’t get near him,” he replied.

“They weren’t so bad,” she confided. “Well, I did sort of get scratched by one of them. But it was just a little scratch.”

“The rumor is that the more Kemp likes someone, the worse the cats are,” he told her. “In which case, you’d better wear body armor if you go over there very much.”

“Siamese do tend to be temperamental, I guess,” she said, wondering how many people had seen her car at Kemp’s house.

“We had a dog once that hated Libby’s boyfriend, when she was about fourteen,” he recalled. “The dog sat and growled at him the whole time he was in the house. Then one day the boy brought him a beef bone. The next time he came over, the dog met him at the door and licked him half to death.”

She pursed her lips and smiled mischievously. “I wonder if Siamese like beef bones?”

He chuckled and went on out to work.

Violet had halfway hoped that she might hear from Blake during the day. After all, they’d been lovers. But he didn’t call. It was a disappointment, and her self-confidence took a nosedive. All her hopes began to drown in doubt. She went through her normal routine, answering the phone and taking messages, and typing letters for Duke Wright after he dictated them. It was a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary. She could have cried.

Once, she almost picked up the phone and called his office. But that would never do. She couldn’t look as if she were chasing him. Perhaps he just needed breathing space, in order to get used to the changed relationship between them. Surely, it was just that.

By the end of the day, she was feeling dismal. She wondered if perhaps Blake had phoned while she was briefly out of the office, because she had to run to town for Duke Wright and pick up a special delivery letter he was expecting, at the post office.

She had the opportunity to ask him as she gathered her purse and sweater to go home. He walked in with a sealed letter that needed a stamp.

“Could you drop that by the post office for me on your way home, Violet?” he asked.

“Certainly.” She put on the stamp and gave him a shy glance. “Uh, there weren’t any, uh, messages for me while I was gone earlier…?” she faltered.

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “From your ex-boss, you mean?”

She flushed. “Well…”

“There’s a hard case, if ever there was one,” he said. “You’re taking a chance, Violet. A big one.”

“Sir?”

“We all know you were out at his house,” he replied easily. “News travels like wildfire around here. We’ve heard that those cats don’t like company at all.”

“They’re sort of antagonistic,” she confessed, without mentioning her scratches.

“Kemp took another lawyer home for supper one day and the man had to go to the emergency room. He was allergic to cat scratches.”

She cleared her throat. “They are sort of possessive,” she replied. “But I’m no threat. We’re just friends,” Violet said firmly. “He wanted to introduce me to his cats.”

“That explains everything,” Duke mused, grinning. “It’s the cats who are interested in you, then?”

Curt Collins poked his head in the door, shamelessly eavesdropping. “And of course, Kemp loves his cats, so he brings home strangers that he thinks they’ll like,” he added.

“You two!” Violet exclaimed, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.”

They said their goodbyes and watched her go out the door.

She knew what they meant about the cats.

Mr. Kemp was a notorious loner. He never took women to his house. If he was entertaining Violet on the weekend, something was going on. She knew it was all over town if even Duke Wright knew about her visit. She wondered if the gossip had gotten back to Blake and that’s why he hadn’t phoned her. Of course, he could be feeling regret at his loss of control as well. She was feeling something similar. Her only excuse was that she loved him. Sadly, she knew it wasn’t the same with him. Desire wasn’t love.

Violet spent a sleepless night worrying about her lapse of judgment at Kemp’s house, and his avoidance of her. She couldn’t forget what her mother had said, about his attitude toward children. She hoped with all her heart that there wouldn’t be consequences. Surely, she couldn’t get pregnant from one brief interlude!

She went to work the next morning and found Duke Wright making coffee. He glanced up when she came in the door, and smiled at her.

“I’ve got to be out of town today. Think you can hold the office together until I get back?”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” she promised.

“If Kemp shows up, you can have a long lunch hour,” he added with a grin. “But don’t let him know I said that.”

“He’s not a bad man.”

“You don’t have my perspective on him,” Duke replied quietly.

She was aware of that. Duke’s divorce had been a messy one, and he blamed Kemp for his wife’s unreasonable demands. She didn’t say a word.

He shrugged. “Sorry. I have bad memories. I’ll see you tomorrow, Violet.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Have a safe trip.”

“I hope to.”

She watched him walk out with a sense of foreboding. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on.

And it was. Kemp walked into his office and motioned Libby Collins back down the hall with him.

He told her the results of the state crime lab’s autopsy on her father, which was negative.

She was relieved, and showed it.

“But the opposite was true of Violet’s father,” he said quietly. “Don’t tell her, and don’t tell Curt until I’ve had time to get out to Wright’s ranch. I’m going to tell Violet in person and then take her home and help her break the news to her mother. It’s going to be an ordeal for them. If we can catch Janet Collins, we’ll charge her with first degree murder. Violet and her mother will both have to testify, and it will resurrect some terrible memories for old Mrs. Hardy. I’m not sure her heart will take it.”

“What can be done?”

He shrugged. “The only thing I know is to try and reach a plea agreement, if I can talk the D.A. into it. If Janet can expect something less than life in prison, she might confess. I’ll have to see. Right now, my priority is to make sure Violet doesn’t hear it on the six o’clock news. There were reporters sniffing around this afternoon.”

“Poor Violet,” Libby said sadly. “Please, tell her if she needs me, I’ll be there.”

“I will. But I’m sure she knows it already. Hold down the fort for me.”

“You bet.”

All the way to Duke Wright’s place, Kemp worried about Violet’s reaction. He was still aching from their brief interlude, and he was uneasy about facing Violet again. She was a shy, introverted woman who’d had no real experience with men. He’d taken advantage of that. She might hate him for it. Just the same, he had to do what he could for her and her mother. It wasn’t going to be easy for either of them to face the fact that Mr. Hardy had been murdered.

Violet was just finishing the last of the new cattle herd files when she heard footsteps coming into her office.

She looked up, and her heart jumped wildly as she saw Blake Kemp for the first time since their passionate afternoon. She colored furiously as he came into the room and paused just in front of her desk. He looked very elegant in a pale gray vested suit, not a hair out of place. His blue eyes were quiet and sympathetic as they met hers.

“Is something wrong?” she asked at once, uneasy because of the way he looked.

“Yes, Violet,” he replied. “We have to speak to your mother. Will Wright let you leave early?”

“He’s not here today,” she faltered. She stood up. “What’s happened?”

“We just got the results back on your father’s autopsy. He was poisoned, Violet. It wasn’t a natural death. It was murder.”

Murder. Murder. She felt the blood draining out of her face. Janet Collins had killed her father.

“That woman,” she bit off. “That damned, greedy woman killed my father!”

He moved around the desk quickly and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tight. “It’s all right,” he murmured softly at her ear, contracting his arms when she began to shiver. “We’ll make her pay for it. I swear we will.”

She’d felt shock and then anger. Now she felt grief well up in her like water behind a dam. She’d loved her father, despite his faults. How in the world was her mother going to react to the news?

“It will kill Mama,” she choked, sliding her arms around Blake’s waist.

“No, it won’t,” he assured her. “She’s stronger than she looks. But I think you and I should both break the news to her.”

“Yes. Thank you,” she added belatedly.

He drew in a long breath. Odd, how right she felt in his arms. He’d ached for her for the past few days. This was like coming home.

She loved the comfort of his embrace. Except for her mother, she’d had little real affection in her life. It was wonderful to melt into his muscular body and let him absorb all her worries, all her fears. He made her feel secure, protected.

His hand smoothed over her hair, enjoying its softness.

Footsteps interrupted them. Curt came into the room, stopped dead, and started to go back out again, faintly embarrassed.

Blake saw him and released Violet. “She’s had some bad news,” he told the other man. “It will be all over town soon enough, so you might as well know now. Her father was poisoned.”

“By my stepmother?” Curt asked miserably.

Blake nodded. “Very probably.”

Curt grimaced. “Violet, I’m so sorry.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. They felt swollen and hot. “It’s not your fault, Curt,” she said sadly. “You and Libby have suffered because of her, too. We’re all victims.”

“And we can’t find her,” Curt muttered angrily.

“We will,” Blake said firmly. “I swear we will.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Curt asked.

Violet shook her head. “But thanks anyway. We’re going to tell Mama. I hope it isn’t going to be too much for her.”

Blake smiled faintly as Violet went to gather up her things. “I think you’ll find that your mother is going to want vengeance more than sympathy when she knows the truth.”

Violet smiled. “I hope so,” she replied. “I really hope that’s how she’s going to feel.”

Blake turned to Curt. “I’m going to follow Violet home. If Wright calls, can you tell him what’s going on?”

“He left his foreman in charge,” Curt replied. “I’ll make sure he knows. There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Violet, if you need anything, all you have to do is tell us. I know Libby would tell you the same thing.”

“Thanks, Curt,” she replied, managing a smile as she joined Blake. “I’m ready when you are,” she told him.

“Let’s go.” Blake stood aside to let her go out the door first.

Mrs. Hardy looked up expectantly, and with faint surprise, when she saw Blake come in the door with her daughter. Both of them wore somber expressions.

She was propped up on the sofa with pillows. She gave them a wise look. “You have the results of the autopsy,” she guessed. “That floozie poisoned my husband, didn’t she?” she added, eyes flashing. “I want her drawn and quartered!”

Blake smiled at Violet. “Didn’t I tell you?” he mused.

Violet nodded. “Yes, you did.” She put down her things and went to sit beside her mother on the sofa and pull her close. “We’re going to find her and send her away for years and years,” she promised her mother. “It’s just a matter of time and evidence.”

“Evidence being the key word,” Blake agreed. “Fortunately, the criminalists who processed the scene did a thorough job. They couldn’t rule out homicide, so they did a good job of collecting trace evidence. There’s more than enough for a DNA profile. If Janet was in that room, we’ll be able to prove it. There’s also an eyewitness who saw her come out of the room shortly before your husband was discovered,” he added.

“Yes, but we don’t know where she is,” Violet murmured.

“Oh, that’s just a minor detail,” Blake said carelessly. “I have a private detective tracking her. It’s just a matter of time.”

“You didn’t say anything about that,” Violet remarked.

“Finding Janet is essential to Libby and Curt. They’re fighting to keep their ranch, and it’s not going well,” he said grimly. “Janet has done everything in her power to take it away from them. She’s absconded with all the money and tied up their finances so that they can hardly pay bills. They need her found, and quickly. So do both of you,” he added. “The longer this drags on, the worse it’s going to get.”

“How can a human being be so cold?” Mrs. Hardy wondered out loud, her delicate features drawn as she spoke. “Money isn’t that important.”

“To some people it is,” Blake replied. “I’ve seen men go to prison for life because they stole less than twenty dollars. A thief doesn’t know how much money his victim is carrying, as a rule. Sometimes the victim resists, and dies, and the thief ends up with pocket change and a life sentence. Greed is its own punishment.”

“I hope Janet Collins gets hers,” Violet said quietly, hugging her mother. She glanced at Blake. “I suppose it will be in all the papers?”

“Undoubtedly,” he agreed. He moved into the living room and dropped down into a comfortable armchair. “Personal tragedies have become popular entertainment. We’ve reached an all-time low in journalistic ethics.”

“Where do you think Janet Collins went?” Mrs. Hardy asked abruptly.

Blake crossed his long legs and leaned back in the chair. “At a guess, somewhere close by. She won’t want to let go of the ranch. Libby and Curt have had some threats already, probably at her instigation.”

“I’m sorry they’re having such trouble,” Violet said. “Libby’s the best friend I have.”

“I won’t give up until Janet is found,” Blake assured her. “I’ve got one of the best private investigators in Texas on the job.”

Mrs. Hardy was dabbing at her eyes. Anger had given way to grief. “I wondered about the coroner’s report, saying that he had a heart attack,” she murmured aloud. “He’d had all sorts of tests, and there was no trace of heart trouble.”

“From what the medical examiner told me, the poison paralyzes the heart. Essentially, it stops it dead. Since no one suspected foul play, they didn’t bother with an autopsy. But I credit those investigators in San Antonio with doing a great job of evidence gathering. When we finally catch Janet, we’ll have enough to hang her.”

Violet hugged her mother. “It will be all right,” she said, although she didn’t really feel it.

“The newspapers will have a field day, won’t they?” Mrs. Hardy asked suddenly, her face contorted.

“We’ll get through it,” Violet assured her. “We’re tough, aren’t we?”

Mrs. Hardy hesitated, then she smiled. “Yes, dear. We’re tough.”

“We’ll find a way around the publicity,” Blake told them. “First things first. We have to find Janet.”

“Thank you for coming with Violet to give me the news, Blake,” Mrs. Hardy told him gently. “It made it easier.”

“I thought it might,” he said gently. “I’m sorry it turned out this way,” he added.

“So are we,” Violet replied. “But we don’t get to choose our obstacles, do we?”

“How true,” Mrs. Hardy murmured. She looked toward Blake. “Would you like to come to dinner?”

Violet flushed. She knew her mother was trying to play matchmaker, but she wished she hadn’t. She was uneasy around Blake. She didn’t know what he expected of her. She didn’t know how she should behave.

Blake saw her indecision and averted his gaze to Mrs. Hardy. “Thanks,” he said, “but I’ve got a lot of work to get through tonight for a client.” The client was Libby Collins, but he wasn’t going to discuss that with the women.

“Another time,” Mrs. Hardy suggested.

“Another time,” he agreed pleasantly. “I’d better get on the road. If you need me, call,” he told Violet firmly.

“Of course, we will,” she said without looking directly at him, and with a forced smile.

“My interim secretary is getting married,” he remarked. “You might consider coming back to work. Libby and Mabel miss you.”

Violet was surprised, because he hadn’t been in touch with her since their dinner. She didn’t even know that he’d hired an interim secretary. He sounded as if he wanted Violet to come back. But he didn’t look desperate.

On the other hand, she missed seeing him every day. It was a wrench to work for Duke Wright. It guaranteed that she wouldn’t see Blake on a regular basis at all. Today had been a rare event.

“Think about it, at least,” Blake added quietly.

“Yes,” she replied. “I certainly will.”

He studied her for a few seconds too long, his eyes narrow and intent. She might mistake his invitation for something romantic, but that wasn’t the case at all. He felt guilty for what he’d let happen at his house. Violet could be pregnant. He didn’t dare keep his distance until he knew for sure. The woman hadn’t a clue about relationships, and she’d be in a hell of a fix if she really had become pregnant.

He had to keep her close so that he’d know, whatever her condition turned out to be. If there was going to be a child…

He stopped the thought dead. He wouldn’t think about that consequence. He had to look on the bright side. He wasn’t ready for marriage and a family. He might never be. Certainly, Violet was hardly the sort of woman he envisioned marrying. She was sweet and kind, but she wasn’t assertive. There were divisions between them that she didn’t understand. He couldn’t hurt her by pointing them out.

He had to bide his time until he knew for sure if there was going to be a child. That wasn’t her fault, either. He’d seduced her, out of loneliness and aching hunger. He still felt the need for her. It was why he’d avoided her for the past couple of days. He’d hoped to get it under control.

But it wasn’t. He looked at her and he wanted her. His body was already as taut as drawn rope, just from looking at her. He knew instinctively that if he touched her, he wasn’t going to be able to pull away. The pleasure she’d given him was exquisite. He wanted it again. And he didn’t dare have it.

“Violet, why don’t you walk Blake out?” Mrs. Hardy suggested when there was a brief silence.

“I can find my way out,” Blake said without making a big thing of Violet’s hesitation. He even smiled. “Think about the job,” he suggested. “We make a good team…you and me and Libby and Mabel,” he added just when she thought he was talking about the two of them.

She nodded. “I will think about it,” she promised.

“I’ll be in touch,” he replied. He didn’t say goodbye. He simply left.

“See, dear, he misses you!” Mrs. Hardy exclaimed when they heard his car start up outside. “He wants you back! You’ll do it, won’t you?”

“I have to change clothes and get supper started,” she interrupted to halt her mother’s speculation. “What would you like? How about pancakes?”

“Pancakes? For supper?” the older woman exclaimed.

“Why not? We love pancakes!”

Mrs. Hardy smiled. “Then pancakes it is. And coffee.”

Coffee reminded Violet of Blake and made her sad. She’d lost her job over coffee. But she didn’t let it show. “Decaf for you,” she teased, and went to change her clothes.