Dangerous Relations Page 15

  "No one would be sick of anyone if he did his job and found the murderer." She looked so tense, with her shoulders drawn up to her ears.

  He longed to wrap his arms around her. "Would you like something hot to drink?"

  "Coffee would be nice. And some dry clothes."

  He got the coffee maker going and went upstairs. He returned with one of his old University of Florida sweatshirts and a short denim skirt.

  "Thanks," Ardin said. She held up the skirt for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to put it on.

  "She never wore it," he said. "I just cut off the tags."

  Ardin sent him a look of gratitude, and went into the small bathroom to change.

  "Looks terrific," he said when she came out.

  "The new borrowed look," she said, offering a wan smile.

  They spoke little, but he sensed a thawing as she downed her coffee. He led the way upstairs, and put fresh linens on the bed in the guest room. "Sorry it's so stark. We never got around to buying a bureau for this room."

  "Not a problem since I haven't any clothes. I'm grateful there's a night table and a lamp."

  They were halfway down the stairs when the doorbell rang. Brett opened the door to Detective Rabe and the police officer who had questioned Ardin earlier. He led them into the sparsely decorated living room. Ardin perched on the edge of the sofa. He sank into his easy chair. There were two other chairs in the room, but the two policemen remained standing.

  "Good evening, Ms. Wesley," Rabe said. "I'm sorry about the fire. You seem to be someone's target."

  "Brilliant deduction, Detective Rabe. And what are you doing about it?"

  The detective cleared his throat. "Believe me, Ms. Wesley, we're doing our best to find your cousin's murderer and stop him from harming anyone else. Officer Giordano will read the statement you gave him earlier this evening. Tell us if we've left anything out."

  The young policeman blinked nervously, and read, "At 8:47 p.m. I was taking a bath in my aunt's house. The electricity went out, I got dressed, then someone lobbed an incendiary device through an upstairs bedroom window and I ran from the house. I was about to go to a neighbor's for help, when a male knocked me to the ground. The assailant, possibly the arsonist, escaped."

  "It's accurate," Ardin said.

  Rabe turned to Brett. "And what brought you to your mother-in-law's house at the precise time Ms. Wesley was being attacked?"

  He felt the blood rush to his face as he remembered the argument he'd had with himself all the way to Julia's house. "I wanted to talk to her, that's all."

  Rabe stepped toward Brett. "What an amazing coincidence, appearing in the nick of time to play the hero. Or did you happen to arrive earlier--by ten minutes or so--for another purpose entirely?"

  Brett glowered. Where did Rabe come off, strutting about his living room, insinuating he'd attacked Ardin? And all dressed up in his best blue blazer and colorful designer tie. Then he realized this last incident must have pulled Rabe away from a Saturday night outing, and he grinned.

  "Actually, I arrived too late to stop the SOB from tackling Ms. Wesley." He winked at Ardin. "But I managed to catch two letters of his license."

  "Brett! You never told me."

  He hit his forehead in mock surprise. "Didn't I? Weird how you can forget to share a piece of vital information."

  Ardin blushed as she twisted a strand of her hair.

  Rabe looked from Brett to Ardin, and let out a snort. "Please folks, bicker on your own time. Right now, Mr. Waterstone, I'd appreciate your telling me what you saw as the car sped away."

  "The license plate had an L and the number 2. And it was a four-door sedan. I'd put my money on an Avalon." Officer Giordano, he noticed, was scribbling furiously.

  "Ms. Wesley, did you happen to see the man who attacked you this time?" Rabe said.

  "Not his face, if that's what you mean. But he was on the short side and overweight, with broad shoulders." She rubbed her own shoulder gingerly. "One of which he used to ram into me."

  Rabe cocked his head. "Deliberately?"

  "Oh, very deliberately."

  Rabe sighed, as he was now asking the same questions he'd asked her earlier that day. "Have you any idea who it was?"

  "Yes, but as I didn't see his face and I've only seen him once before, I couldn't swear to it in court."

  "Tell us anyway," Officer Giordano said, earning a stern look from his superior.

  "I'm pretty sure it was Marshall Crewe."

  Brett's mouth fell open. "No! I don't believe it!"

  "Oh, really?" The steely glint in Ardin's eyes made him flinch. "For your information, I served him a cessation of power-of-attorney on behalf of his aunt. My mother said he could be vindictive. Why are you his defender?"

  "I'm not defending him," Brett explained, "I'm just damn surprised. I happened to meet Crewe when I was out with Frank Thursday night. He's in on the deal."

  Ardin sniffed. "Nice company you're keeping."

  "Company?" He threw up his hands in frustration. "Give me a break, Ardin. I don't even know the man!"

  "Then why did you say you didn't believe he was the arsonist?"

  "It was an expression of surprise. Forgive me! Poor choice of words."

  Rabe cleared his throat. "Mr. Waterstone, would you mind telling me what business deal you're referring to?"

  "Some of us have formed a corporation to build luxury condos ten miles north of here. It has nothing to do with the attack on Ms. Wesley."

  "Or your wife's murder?"

  Brett stared at him. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it?"

  "You said it, Mr. Waterstone." Rabe nodded to Officer Giordano, who put away his notebook. "We'll be in touch."

  "Don't I know it," Brett muttered, as he closed the door behind them.

  * * * *

  Ardin opened her eyes. Where was she? She bolted upright in the narrow bed, and then groaned as the pain in her head and shoulder kicked in. Yesterday's horrors flashed through her mind, and she burrowed back under the quilt.

  "I'm safe in Brett's house," she whispered. She sat up again, gingerly this time, and glanced down at herself. "And wearing his shirt." The thought of him fast asleep in his bed some twenty feet away brought a smile to her lips.

  Bed. The word stirred up erotic memories of Brett caressing her, bringing her to orgasm. The thought of making love with him again sent blood rushing through her veins. She stood, intent on going to his room.

  My God, what are you thinking? She gripped the doorknob and inhaled deep, wrenching breaths. She would not chase after him like some pathetic rock-idol groupie. He'd made it perfectly clear she was his guest only because she refused to be separated from Leonie. He'd also made it clear there was no longer anything personal between them. Who could blame him?

  She used the bathroom and then, unable to resist the urge, walked down the hall to the master suite. The bed was made up and Brett was nowhere in sight.

  "Do you need something?"

  She gave a start and backed up, smack against his chest. She turned around, barely able to stifle a gasp at the glorious sight of him. Well-worn jeans and a t-shirt delineated his broad shoulders, flat stomach, and slender hips. Hips that moved sweetly, sinuously...

  "No, yes. I was just--"

  "Wondering if I was up yet," he finished.

  Dumbly, she nodded.

  He flashed perfect white teeth. "I've been up for hours, hammering away on Leonie's playhouse."

  "Oh." He was letting her know he intended to fight her strong and hard.

  "Go on, get dressed. Your clothes are in Leonie's room, all washed and dried. I'll make us fresh coffee, just as soon as I find what I'm looking for."

  "Thanks. That'll be great." She suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything awaiting her attention. "There's so much to take care of, I don't know where to begin." She placed her hand on her heart, felt it galloping away. "But first I must call Aunt Julia. Let her know what's happened to her house."


  "Use the phone in my bedroom."

  She dialed her aunt's number. The phone rang several times. Puzzled, Ardin called the hospital's main number, and was told Julia was undergoing tests all morning, and she'd best try calling back after lunch.

  "How did Julia react?" Brett said when she stepped into the hall.

  "They're testing her all morning. I hate not being able to tell her, though she might have another coronary once she hears her house has burned down. And it will be my fault."

  "Relax." Brett kneaded her shoulders. It felt wonderful. She was sorry when he stopped. "Getting worked up won't do any good."

  "True." She peered through the hall window at the sunny day outside. "I'd give anything if I could go for a run after breakfast."

  Brett winked. "Now that sounds like a damn good idea."

  "Except I can't." Ardin felt the pressure building up in her chest, as she ticked off her obligations on her fingers. "I have to tell Aunt Julia about the fire, see my mother, call the insurance company as soon as I find out which company, and buy some clothes."

  Brett rested a hand on her shoulder. "But first you have to calm down."

  "I am calm." She tried to ignore the fluttering sensations his touch had set off.

  "No, you're not. You're frazzled. You've been through hell, and you need to relax." She felt abandoned when he stretched his arms overhead. "Go for a run. You'll visit Julia and shop in the afternoon."

  She nibbled on her lip as she thought.

  "Hey, I'll even go with you."

  She grinned. "Which one--running, visiting or shopping?"

  "I wouldn't mind a good run. I used to run five miles every day when I was playing team sports in college."

  Ardin imagined his long legs pumping around the track. "I could use the company. Too bad I don't have a warm-up suit. Only these jeans."

  "Take a look through Suziette's things. There's five of everything jamming the spare room next to yours."

  She was about to argue when she realized there was no point. Right now she needed a warm-up suit, and she and Suziette were pretty much the same size.

  "I'll find something and be down in five minutes."

  * * * *

  She settled on a purple and gold suit and a violet polo. It felt eerie, putting on Suziette's clothes. Even though they'd been laundered, Ardin detected a trace of her cousin's favorite perfume. But she wasn't going to make a fuss, not with everything crumbling around her.

  Downstairs, Brett was pouring water into the coffee maker while biting into a hard-boiled egg. "Want some?" he said, holding up what was left of the egg.

  "Sure."

  She reached for it, but he held it up to her mouth. Gently, she took it between her lips, pressed the smooth white part against her tongue, imagining it wasn't the egg, but...

  She jerked away and flew to the refrigerator to peer inside. These erotic urges to jump his bones were probably the aftermath of shock. A physical reaction to her two assaults and the fire.

  "Want some juice?" she said.

  "Orange, thanks."

  She filled two glasses and carried them to the round table that had been set for two. The morning sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked out on lawn bordered by woods on three sides. It was a nice rolling piece of property, and would look lovely once it was landscaped with bushes and flowers.

  She wondered if Brett intended to stay here. The house, new as it was, must hold unhappy memories. Suziette had been found on the road that ran through the woods, only a few hundred feet from where they stood.

  "I come bearing fruit salad, fresh rolls and outrageous cheese." Brett grinned as he placed the dishes on the table. "Occasionally we get something besides deer meat out here in the boondocks."

  "That's reassuring."

  They ate, while chatting of trivial, inconsequential matters. She appreciated the fact that Brett purposely avoided talk of fires and murder, of anything that might upset her or cause an argument.

  "I'd better call Vivie," Ardin said, when Brett began to load the dishwasher, "to tell her what happened before she hears some terrible report and wonders where I am."

  She was about to pick up the phone when it rang.

  "Ms. Wesley, it's Detective Rabe."

  "Good morning, Detective."

  Brett sprinted to her side. He stood close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her cheek.

  "I'm calling to tell you we're holding Marshall Crewe. He's charged with assault and setting fire to your aunt's house."

  For a moment, Arden was too stunned to speak. "Oh. That's good." Was this awful nightmare coming to an end?

  "We traced Mr. Crewe's car according to the information Mr. Waterstone gave us and asked him to come down to the station." Detective Rabe yawned again. Ardin realized he must have been up most of the night.

  "I didn't mention it last night, but Officer Giordano found a lighter near the spot where you were knocked down. As soon as we started fingerprinting Mr. Crewe, he admitted being there. He claims he was angry because you interfered with his relationship with his aunt, and he planned to give you a piece of his mind. But he denies setting the fire."

  Ardin felt her temper rising. "Of course he does. Deny, deny, deny. That's the criminal's creed." Brett squeezed her shoulder, and she took a deep breath. "I suppose he also denied slamming into me."

  "At first he insisted he only brushed by you. The third time around he said if he bumped into you, he never meant to knock you down."

  Ardin snorted in derision.

  "Do you intend to press charges?"

  "I certainly do." She thought a moment. "I hope you'll keep him in custody."

  Rabe sighed. "Come on, Ms. Wesley, you know he'll post bail and be out of here in--hmmm," Ardin pictured him looking at a clock, "a couple of hours, tops." His tone turned confidential. "Well, maybe not till this evening, seeing how things are busy around here."

  "Thanks." Despite her anger and agitation, she smiled. Rabe was doing his best to make her feel safe.

  His voice lowered considerably when next he spoke. "Between you and me, Ms. Wesley, he's real upset. Shaking and babbling and worried about his career. I don't think you'll be getting any more grief from Marshall Crewe."

  "That's a relief. Good-bye, Detective Rabe. Thanks for filling me in." She put down the phone and looked at Brett.

  "They should lock up someone like that for life." She blinked back the tears filling her eyes. "Destroying my aunt's beautiful home. And all because of petty spite."

  "Not to mention nearly killing you. I'll call Rabe back and insist they send someone here to guard you."

  "Please don't. I doubt Marshall Crewe is stupid enough to try something again. Besides, Rabe intends to keep him at the station till evening."

  "Sounds like our detective is finally separating the bad guys from the good guys." When she didn't answer, he said, "Still interested in running?"

  "Absolutely. I'll call Vivie, then we can go."

  She dialed the Presley's number. When Vivie answered, Ardin heard the sound of children laughing in the background.

  "Hi, Ardin. We're having a ball here. Right, girls?"

  Ardin heard them shout, "Right!" She cleared her throat. "Vivie, something happened last night."

  Vivie laughed, then murmured, "You needn't reveal all the sordid details. Unless you want to, of course."

  "Marshall Crewe set fire to Aunt Julia's house."

  "Oh, how awful!"

  Ardin gave her an abbreviated version of what had happened, and that Brett had invited Leonie and her to stay at his house.

  "Your hero to the rescue. If that isn't too romantic."

  "It wasn't like that at all." Ardin felt her face growing warm.

  She heard Vivie talking to Leonie. "Ardin, Leonie's here, and yearning to talk to you."

  Ardin's heart turned over as Leonie's little-girl voice chirped into the phone. "Hi, Cousin Ardin. Is Grannie's house all burned down?"


  "It's badly damaged," she said. "And it's all stinky and smelly, so we're staying at your daddy's for now."

  "Oh, goodie! Michelle and I are going to make cookies with Vivie. Then we're going to the park."

  "Have fun, honey. We'll pick you up later this afternoon."

  "Tell Daddy I love him. Here's a kiss until I see you."

  The loud, smacking sound made her grin. "I miss you, Leonie."

  "Me, too. Bye."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  "Where to?" Brett said, as they drove from the house.

  "Anywhere!" Ardin threw open her arms, barely missing his nose. "I'm no longer a hunted woman. At least until Marshall Crewe makes bail."

  Brett gave her a stern look. "Don't kid yourself. Marshall Crewe didn't bop you on the head in your mother's apartment."

  "I've been thinking that over, and I'm coming to the conclusion he probably did."

  "Come on, Ardin. I suppose he smashed your car window, too."

  "That must have been Corey acting spiteful." She felt a surge of anger toward her ex-husband. "Too bad I can't prove it and make him pay."

  "Too bad we can't prove who the murderer is."

  Ardin tingled at his use of "we." "That's the big question."

  "Because this demented, angry person--no matter how much you deny it--wants you out and away from Thornedale. Or dead."

  She gave a start. "Why should he? I don't know anything."

  His eyes cut to her. "Maybe he thinks you have Suziette's little black date book. Or Suziette told you the same juicy information she told Dimitri."

  Ardin shivered. "You're scaring me."

  "Good, because it's time we got off our butts and figured out who this guy is. You don't think Rabe's going to turn into Sherlock Holmes after all this time."

  "He puts in the hours, but he's nowhere," she admitted.

  "My take exactly. He still treats me like Suspect Number One, and I sure as hell didn't kill Suziette and Dimitri."

  Ardin shook her head. "Of course you didn't, but..." The image suddenly came to her, and she had to dispel it once and for all. "Why did you break someone's nose when you were twenty-two?"

  Brett tossed back his head and roared. He laughed and laughed, until Ardin was frightened he'd crash the Jeep.