Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) (22 page)

“Having a party?” he asked as he handed bills and change to Benny.

“What?” Benny looked into one of the bags. What else would the guy think? A family-sized bag of tortilla chips, a can of bean dip, and all the rest of the makings for his famous seven-layer Mexican dip. Let alone the beer.

“Something like that,” Benny said. He pulled his purchases into his hands. “Have a good night.”

He hadn’t intended to buy so much. It would be a long walk back to his place with all this stuff. Thoughts of Sarah had propelled his need to arm himself for what he was sure would prove to be a long night ahead. He’d dig out a couple of cop-chase DVD’s he’d packed somewhere. They, along with his refreshments, ought to do the trick. No time to think about a woman he had no right to want.

But, she’d called. Questions filtered into his thoughts as he made his way home. What had she wanted? Maybe she was in trouble. God only knew what she was capable of getting herself into.

He shook his head.
Not my problem.

Or, what if she was feeling the same thing he was? He remembered the way her eyes clung to his, those golden flecks keeping him from looking away. Was this an opportunity? Would it be yet another wrong choice to ignore it?

He thought of the compass, his father’s relic that all these years he’d detested. The thorn that pricked his ego, that had made his heart bleed with knowing that the old man had thought so little of him.

At first when he’d seen the hand-tooled wooden case the lawyer had placed in front of him on that day he and Sal sat in the man’s office, he’d thought it might be a treasure of some kind. After lifting the lid, the old brass object all but laughed at him. Was his father’s message true? Would he always be a loser? Destined to be lost and in need of a device to give him direction?

He readjusted his packages, bracing himself against the gusts of wind that blew into his face. He saw The Cornelia Inn up ahead, the lights already on inside. Sarah was home.

He did not need a compass tonight.

Chapter Seventeen

The doorbell sounded, jarring Sarah.
What now?
She trotted down the staircase to the front door. She knew who stood outside the moment she saw his silhouette through the beveled glass.

Her nervous system, she decided, was a mess. The news about her house, the wedding plans, Hannah’s quirkiness, and then there was Benny Benedetto. How much could she take?

If she had half a brain, she’d ignore the front door and charge right back up to her apartment and go to bed early with earplugs in place.

The half of her brain she no longer possessed opened the door. The wind was strong enough now to do all the work. Benny stood hunkered down into his black jacket, laden with packages.

“I, uh, stopped on my way home from the store.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. “Come in. You want to put those down?”

He placed his bags and the six-pack on the floor. “It’s really kicking up out there.” He rubbed his hands together. Nice, masculine hands.

“Yes, something’s brewing.” She folded her arms across her chest. Again they shared a long gaze.

“I came by because I saw you had called.”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “Clyde Stone came by for a visit.”

“What?” Benny’s eyes grew, the dark orbs beaming with intensity. “Sarah, he could be some kind of wacko. You talked to him?”

“Yes,” she said, letting out a whoosh of air. “After I hit him in the head with my shoe.”

“Why? What’d he do to you?”

Before she had time to process it, Benny had rushed to her and grabbed her upper arms into his firm hands. However, he had not tripped over the front mat. And she would not hit Benny with a shoe.

“It was a misunderstanding,” she said softly. She was acutely aware of Benny’s nearness. His face was sharp, eyes alert. “He tripped over that mat out on the porch and fell forward. I thought he was attacking me.”

Benny let his hands fall. His face softened and something new shone in his onyx eyes. Amusement? A trace of a smile played over his lips. “So you threw a shoe at him?”

“Actually, no. I was aiming for his crotch.” Now
she
couldn’t help the grin that claimed her mouth.

“And you got his head instead. That’s some kick. Shit, how long are those legs of yours?”

“Yeah, very funny. Benny, he came here with an offer to buy the place. He said it’s ready to fall down and if I’m smart I’ll let him buy it.”

“Don’t listen to him. We figured that’s what he was up to when the cops found that list in his wallet. He say anything about writing those notes?”

She shook her head.

“I hope you told him to pound salt.”

“I did, basically. But he’s right about the foundation disintegrating. I saw with my own eyes.”

“You didn’t know anything about that until now? What about those guys doing the work for you? They never mentioned that?”

“Nope.”

“What I want to know is how does this Stone guy know so damned much? Did he trespass onto your property and inspect your foundation? Everything about this stinks.”

“I don’t know. He said insurance doesn’t cover decaying foundations. Apparently, he’s got the funds to make the inn safe.”

“You’re not considering his offer?”

“No, but I’m scared, Benny. I don’t have the money to do the repairs. How am I supposed to keep an inn going if it’s not safe? Maybe it’s time for a new reality check.”

“We don’t know a thing about this guy. We can’t believe a word he says.”

She pulled the business card out from her pocket and extended it toward him. “I don’t know. He could be legit.”

His eyes scanned the text. “Wait a second. It says here he’s the president of the Metropolitan Karate Institute.”

“Well, the police did say he was a black belt, right?”

“Yeah, they did.” As though a light bulb flashed on in his head, scorching his brain, Benny pulled out his cell phone and flipped the screen a few times. He tapped a finger and flipped some more.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m checking something.” His eyes were intent on the screen. She watched his finger’s rapid movements as he shuffled through electronic screens.

“Damn it to hell.”

“What?”

“Sarah,” he looked up at her. “There’s something I need to do. I’ll explain when I get back. It won’t be until later, though.”

He reached for the door, it flew open and an icy gust whipped into the room.

“And please, don’t talk to this guy again until I come back.”

Sarah watched him retreat down the sidewalk. He moved too quickly and the wind was too loud for her to even attempt calling after him.

She stood in her foyer with her arms clenched across her chest and his bags of groceries at her feet.

****

Benny struggled with the wind on his race home. The force of air pushed against him, but adrenaline pumped strong and nothing would hold him back.
I knew it.
There was no way this was a coincidence.

Benny now pictured that photo hanging up on Sal’s self-aggrandizing wall. The karate school where he’d earned his black belt had given Sal a new buddy…named Clyde Stone. He recalled in detail now the photo of Sal in his dress blues shaking his teacher’s hand, the benefactor of some donation, both of them smiling in kinship into the lens.

Damn it, Sal was going to come clean about whatever the hell he was up to. If not Benny might need to choke it out of him.

He went inside the cottage, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and shoved an apple into his jacket pocket. He turned around and went right back out, locking the door behind him.

He climbed into the Jeep and headed toward the main thoroughfare. If the traffic was right, he’d make it to Sal’s office around seven-thirty, right around shift change.

The Parkway was slick from a fast and furious bout of rain. Although the rain had subsided, an angry wind howled through the windows of his vehicle. It only served to fuel Benny’s frustration.

He wasn’t just pissed at Sal. He was pretty mad at himself for being stupid enough to get into this predicament.

Periodically a strong gust would rock his truck, especially when he ascended the crest of the Raritan River Bridge. Cars slowed and traffic clogged the roadway, reducing Benny’s speed to less than thirty miles per hour. At this rate, it would take him all night to get to Glendale. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be stopped.

He crawled along, switching lanes like a squad car chasing a criminal. He snorted into the empty cab of his vehicle. “Oh, I’ll bet my ass I’m chasing a crook. Hands down.”

An inventory began to form in his head, a mental list of all the times he’d had to cover for Mr. Bigshot over the years. The first time Benny remembered was when they were kids and Sal had gotten caught lifting a Playboy from the drugstore. Sal had lied right to their old man’s face and Benny had been coerced to confirm it.

But that had been just the beginning. There’d been times Sal cheated on girlfriends and made Benny cover for his whereabouts, convincing him to lie and say his brother was sick in bed.

He’d overlooked the way Sal’s good grades proved to be the product of his paying some brainiac kid to do his reports for him. Benny shook his head as he drove.

When he had called Sal a fraud to his face, his brother had laughed at him and spewed his life-long motto. The words rang in Benny’s head now. “I’m just doing what works for numero uno.”

Inside the precinct a young officer sat at the front desk. He looked up expectantly when Benny approached, no recognition in his eyes.

Before the man could get a word out, Benny’s question barked from his lips. “Sal Benedetto still here?”

“Your name, sir?”

“I’m his brother, Benny. He here?”

The officer gave him the once-over with his new-cop eyes while reaching for the handset of the desk phone. He mumbled into the speaker and nodded his head a few times before putting the phone down.

“Down the hall, second door on…”

“Yeah. I know.” Benny stormed past him and maneuvered the corridor.

Sal stood at his desk, front and center of the backdrop of his wall of framed bullshit. Benny didn’t meet his eyes, but rather scanned the frames. In the spot where he’d seen the photo from the local rag now hung a freeze-frame photo of Sal’s kids screaming with glee as they plunged down the log flume ride at an amusement park.

“What’s up?” Sal asked. Sal had done his best to sound nonchalant, but Benny wasn’t fooled. He saw the flash of worry in his lying eyeballs. Benny knew it well.

“New addition to your wall?” Benny pointed to the shot of his nephews and niece.

Sal didn’t even turn in the direction of the photo. He continued to look straight at Benny. “Yeah.”

“Where’s the one that used to be there?”

Sal shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. “It broke.”

“You can stop the crap right there, Sal.”

Sal sat down and sighed aloud. “Sit down Benny,” he said, pointing a fat finger to his guest chair. “It’s been a long day. Just come out with it.”

Benny remained standing. “You first. Tell me about Clyde Stone.”

“Not sure what you mean, brother.”

“Okay.” Rage stoked inside Benny’s gut, bubbling through his system. “I’ll clarify it for you. Clyde Stone is not some
nobody
that you couldn’t be bothered getting one of your guys to look into. Is he?”

Sal didn’t react, just continued to look tired and bored.

Benny stepped closer to the desk. “Clyde Stone is an associate of yours. As a matter of fact, his karate school is where you got your black belt, the same school that donated money to your PBA.”

“And?” Sal almost yawned with boredom and Benny had all he could do not to slug him one.

“And he wants to snatch The Cornelia Inn out from under Sarah Grayson. For Christ’s sake, Sal! She’s a nice lady that just wants to live her life and run her goddammed inn. Until you came along and friggin’ dragged me into this with you.”

“My turn?” Sal asked, unfazed.

Benny’s mouth clenched so tight his jaw ached.

“Yes, Clyde Stone and I are associates, Benny. And he’s going to be a very rich man, very soon. He’s opened up an opportunity for me—for us, if you’ll just calm down and let me explain.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

Sal started to laugh. “Not interested in a piece of a multi-million-dollar townhouse community in one of the sweetest little spots along the Jersey coast?”

Sal waved his hands at him. “Benny, Christ, think about this. You’ll see Clyde’s got it sewn up if you’ll take your eyes off the broad with the piece-of-shit bed-and-breakfast. He’s going to turn that whole strip into a ritzy resort town. Think The Hamptons, little brother. We can be in on the ground floor of his project. Do you have any idea what that could mean for us?”

“What the fuck, Sal? We filed complaints against Sarah’s plan to expand a small part of her facility so she could throw her only kid a nice wedding, because it would ‘upset the town’s peace.’ Isn’t that how you put it, Sal? Leave little Ronan’s Harbor as it? And now you’re telling me it’s been part of a scheme that’ll demolish half the town?”