Connecting Rooms (7 page)

“The only way the blackmailer can make money is to keep quiet and apply more pressure on you,” Owen said.

Amy searched his face. “That makes sense. He’s got nothing to gain by revealing the truth, and everything to lose. I’d say he definitely has a strong incentive to try to persuade Arthur to continue with the payments. And when he does, we’ll be ready for him, won’t we.”

“It’s beginning to look that way.”

Arthur stared at Owen with dawning hope. “You’re going to help me?”

Owen looked at Amy, who gave him a glowing smile. He was briefly dazzled by it. He wondered if it was her sign-here-and-you’ve-got-yourself-a-house smile. He’d never actually seen that smile because when he’d bought the Draycott place from her, he’d almost had to type up the papers himself. She had tried to talk him out of the deal right up until the ink was dry. He had to admit the smile was very effective.

“Something tells me I don’t have a lot of choice,” Owen said.

•  •  •

Owen waited until he heard the shower stop in Amy’s room. He killed a few more minutes pacing his room and then strode to the connecting door. He knocked
peremptorily.

“Come in, I’m decent,” Amy called.

That was unfortunate, Owen thought wistfully. He yanked open the door. “I want to talk to you.”

“Yes?” Amy met his gaze in the mirror. She was dressed in a pair of blue silk trousers and a matching silk tunic that turned her eyes into jewels.

For a few seconds Owen just stood there, transfixed by the sight of her putting a gold earring on one delicate ear. Desire swept through him, hot, unexpected, and laced with longing. Damn. This was getting bad, he thought. Very, very bad.

“Is something wrong?” Amy prompted.

Owen took refuge in righteous irritation. He braced one hand against the doorframe. “Mind telling me what happened in Crabshaw’s living room this afternoon?”

“What do you mean?” She finished attaching the earring and turned to face him. “We’re going to help Arthur. What’s so complicated about that?”

“Amy, you told me you wanted to prove he was concealing something. Okay, I proved it. Case closed.”

Her eyes widened. “For heaven’s sake, Owen, we can’t stop there. Bernice loves him, and this afternoon I finally concluded that he loves her. We have to help him.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that. What the hell made you decide that Arthur is a good guy after all?”

“Intuition. And the fact that he’s trying to play the gentleman for Madeline’s and Bernice’s sake.”

“The gentleman?”

“A man who cares about a lady’s reputation and who doesn’t want to see anyone
hurt, even thirty years after the affair, must have a strong sense of honor. A man like that will do right by my aunt.”

“Sometimes I forget that you write romance novels in addition to selling real estate,” Owen muttered.

She smiled. “Ready to go down to dinner?”

•  •  •

Two hours later Owen stood with Amy on the veranda that ran the length of the Villantry Inn and contemplated night-shrouded Villantry Park. The summer evening was cool but not cold. The tang of the sea was in the air. Bernice and Arthur had left the Inn after dinner. Owen finally had Amy to himself.

Amy and her case, he amended silently.

“Want to take a walk?” he asked.

Amy nodded. “Sounds lovely.”

He took her arm, and together they went down the steps and strolled into the park. The globes of the tall, old-fashioned lamps that lit the paths cast a warm glow. The Friday night band concert had just concluded its performance. People streamed out of the park.

By the time Owen had gotten Amy as far as the pond, the crowd had dwindled to a handful. Owen studied the library through the trees and rhododendron bushes. It was closed for the day, but the lights were on inside.

Everything about this case seemed to center on the library.

“Looks like someone’s working late tonight,” he said, indicating the building on the far side of the park.

“Maybe some of the people in charge of the dedication ceremonies are holding a last-minute meeting.”

“Let’s see what’s going on.” Drawn by the force of his curiosity, Owen steered Amy along the path that meandered toward the library.

Amy glanced at him speculatively. “Are we going to look for clues?”

“Have I ever told you that you have an overactive imagination?”

“I believe you’ve mentioned it once or twice. So, what are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure. I just want to have a look around. It occurs to me that even though the public library restroom is not a bad choice on the part of the blackmailer, it is a little unusual. Whoever he is, he must feel quite comfortable there.”

“A librarian?”

“Maybe.”

The path that led to the library was deserted. The trees and shrubs that grew in this portion of the grounds were among the oldest in Villantry Park. They blocked the light from the tall lamps and deepened the already thick shadows on the graveled walk.

Owen and Amy had almost reached the library when the front door opened. Voices floated out into the night. Several people appeared in the entrance. Owen brought Amy to a halt in the shadows.

“You were right,” he said softly. “Looks like a committee meeting breaking up.”

They watched the small group cluster for a few minutes on the broad steps in front of the building, exchanging pleasantries. Madeline Villantry appeared in the doorway. Raymond Junior was with her. Raymond appeared terminally bored, as usual.

“Is everything taken care of inside, Betty?” Madeline asked.

“Yes, I think so, Madeline.” A silver-haired matron paused on the steps. “Eugene will turn off the lights and lock up.”

“I’ll see you all tomorrow evening at the ceremony, then,” Madeline said. “Good
night, everyone. And thank you once again for your time and effort.”

The committee members moved off in various directions. Most headed toward the small parking lot on the far side of the park.

Madeline and Raymond started along the path that would take them past Owen and Amy.

Owen automatically started to pull Amy into the bushes, then realized belatedly that the rhododendrons were impenetrable and opted for another means of concealment.

He drew Amy into a passionate embrace in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” Amy hissed, startled.

“Don’t want ’em to see us,” Owen muttered. “Kiss me. Make it look good.”

She hesitated only briefly, more out of surprise than anything else, Owen realized. And then she was kissing him back. Her arms locked around his neck. Her mouth opened for him.

Owen’s priorities shifted in a heartbeat. The problem of Madeline and Raymond suddenly dwindled dramatically in importance. All that mattered was the taste and feel of Amy.

He folded her close, hungry for the essence of her, frustrated by clothing, location, and a possible audience. Amy’s mouth was warm and moist and inviting. The gentle curves of her breasts were crushed against his chest. Her soft, muffled whimper of excitement threatened to make him lose control.

The scrape of shoes on gravel, a mildly disapproving murmur, and a soft masculine chuckle brought Owen back to reality. Madeline and Raymond were passing directly behind him now. They had obviously seen the couple in the shadows. Owen hoped that the darkness and the manner in which he was enveloping Amy combined to
provide effective concealment.

“Some people have no sense of propriety,” Madeline said coolly.

“Some people have all the luck,” Raymond drawled.

The sound of footsteps on gravel receded into the distance. Owen waited until he was sure Madeline and Raymond were gone and then raised his head. He looked down at Amy, aware that his pulse was still beating heavily and his insides were clenched.

Amy regarded him with eyes that were pools of unfathomable promise. Her lips were still slightly parted.

Owen thought optimistically of the connecting rooms that awaited them back at the Inn. He took a deep breath and released Amy. “We’ll get back to this a little later.”

“We will?” She sounded pleased.

“First things first,” he said manfully. “I want to check out the library’s back door.”

He took her hand and started around the building. There were no tall lamps in the drive behind the library. The only light was from the moon and a weak yellow bulb set above the library’s service entrance. A row of city utility trucks was lined up on the far side of the drive. The graveled area apparently served as a parking lot for Villantry’s service vehicles.

“Why are we going to look at the back door of the library?” Amy asked.

“Because I like to know all the entrances and exits in a situation such as this. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next blackmail note Crabshaw gets instructs him to make the payment tomorrow night.”

“During the dedication festivities?” Amy glanced at him in surprise as she hurried to keep pace with him. “Why then?”

“Think about it. The library will be swarming with people. That means there will be a steady stream of traffic in and out of the restrooms. Perfect cover for the blackmailer.”

“I get it,” Amy said enthusiastically. “You’re going to stake out the men’s room, right?”

“Right. I’ll bet you can see now why I became a big-time private eye.”

“Because of the thrilling excitement?”

“Just think about it. Staking out a men’s room. Got to be the fulfillment of every young man’s dreams of swashbuckling adventure.”

“Yes, of course. I envy you.”

“From what you’ve told me, real estate has its moments, too.”

“Don’t remind me.” Amy smiled briefly. Then she frowned in the shadows. “But, Owen, I don’t see how you can be so certain that the note—” She broke off suddenly as one of the city trucks roared to life. “What in the world?”

Across the drive, a set of headlights flashed on at full beam, blinding Owen. He realized that he and Amy were pinned in the glare. And to think he had accused Amy of looking like a deer caught in headlights. This was the real thing, Owen thought. He couldn’t see what was happening. But he could hear all too well.

Tires screeched as the big vehicle shot forward. The truck bore down on Owen and Amy with deadly intent.

Amy had barely registered the blinding light when she heard Owen suck in his breath.

“Damn,” he whispered.

In the next instant she felt his arm wrap around her waist with the force of a steel band. He lifted her off her feet and hauled her up the three steps that led to the library’s back entrance.

The truck engine thundered.

“Owen.”

“In here. Move. He may have a gun.”

Owen half-pulled, half-carried her into the shadows of the small alcove that concealed the doorway. Then he shoved her hard against the stone wall and held her there. She gasped for breath, dimly aware that he was shielding her with his body.

The city truck came so close to the steps that Amy was almost convinced it would plow straight through the back door of the library.

But at the last possible instant, it veered aside. With an angry howl it lumbered off into the night, a ravenous beast deprived of its prey.

Owen did not move as the sound of the truck engine receded into the darkness. Amy was pressed so tightly against the cold stone she could feel the grit on her cheek.

“You okay?” Owen finally asked. His voice was curiously flat.

“Yes. I think so.”

He slowly stepped back, releasing her. “Son of a bitch.” There was no emotion in the phrase. “He was aiming for us. You could have been hurt. Killed.”

Amy hugged herself. The unnaturally even tone in Owen’s voice was somehow
more frightening than the near miss. This was a whole new side to the man. A dangerous side.

“An accident,” she said, grasping for a more reasonable explanation than the one Owen had concocted. “Some kid taking a joyride in a city truck.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I have a hunch that it was attempted murder.”

Amy was dazed. “You think that the blackmailer was behind the wheel?”

“I think there’s a very high probability of that, yes.”

“But how could he know that you’re a threat to him? As far as everyone in town is concerned, you’re just my fiancé.”

“My guess is that he doesn’t know I’m out to trap him,” Owen said quietly. “It’s more likely that he’s figured out that I took Crabshaw’s money before he could get to it. I told you that I thought he was in the library yesterday, watching the payoff. He saw me go into the restroom after Crabshaw left. And when he went to make the pickup there was no envelope.”

“So he leaped to the conclusion that you had gotten to it ahead of him. But following that logic, how does he think you learned of the payoffs and where they were made?”

Owen frowned. “Maybe he figures that I accidentally discovered the envelope. Or he may think that Crabshaw confided in me. Who knows? He probably believes that you and I are in this together.”

“Perhaps he was simply trying to frighten us away from Villantry,” Amy suggested slowly.

“It’s possible that was his goal.” Owen took her hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To wake the local chief of police.”

Amy instantly dug in her heels. “But, Owen, if you tell him about this, you’ll have to tell him everything. I don’t want to betray Arthur’s confidence unless we must.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a professional, remember? I know how to talk to a cop.”

Amy looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t ask. It’s a trade secret.”

•  •  •

“Some joyridin’ kid, no doubt.” George P. Hawkins, chief of police of Villantry, poured himself a cup of coffee.

Amy smiled weakly. “That’s what I said.”

“Or a drunken transient.” Hawkins carried the cup back to his desk and lowered his considerable bulk into the chair. “Happens once in a while. Come mornin’ we’ll find the truck abandoned outside of town or in a ditch. You’ll see.”

Owen lounged against the wall near the office window and studied Hawkins with brooding speculation. “Whoever was behind the wheel aimed directly for us. If we hadn’t made it up the steps and into the alcove, we wouldn’t be here talking to you now.”