More Than Great Riches (10 page)

He’s here. He’s OK. Tracy moved closer so the mother could see her little one. She managed
a groggy smile.

Within minutes the paramedics were ready to carry the mother and child away. Reluctantly
Tracy surrendered the infant to an EMT. Mother and baby—safe at last.

As they stood on the shoulder of the road, watching the ambulance drive away, Leif threw
an arm around her shoulders. Are you ready to go home now? He spoke as though this
incident was just a minor blip in his schedule, all in a day’s work for him.

Drooping with exhaustion, she groaned. You certainly know how to show a girl a good time.

He let out a whoop of laughter. Yes, I always try to keep my lady friends entertained.

They trudged back up the embankment to the SUV. She barely had enough energy to climb into
her seat, but Leif didn’t drive away. He inspected the cuts in her hands and reached for
his first aid kit.

I’m sorry about the broken glass, Tracy, but you were an angel down there. Gently he
dabbed disinfectant on the tiny wounds and then brushed her tangled hair back from her
face.

She tried not to read too much into the tender touch. He was simply grateful for her help.

You know, you are a handy lady to have around in an emergency, he teased. Have you ever
thought about joining the police force?

I think I had a nightmare like that once, she groaned. But the admiration in his eyes was
all the medicine she needed to soothe her pain.

****

Leif tried to relax as he waited to speak to Keith Bradford. Although he had made an
appointment, the attorney was still closeted with another client. He glanced impatiently
at his watch. He didn’t have much time to spare, but he was determined to find out, once
and for all, what Keith knew about Tracy’s past. Bradford had been the source of the
rumors that tarnished her reputation in Allerton. If there was any basis for the
insinuations, Bradford was the only one who held the answers to his questions.

Leif felt he had come to know Tracy well, and his experiences with her didn’t fit into the
picture Bradford painted of her mysterious misdeeds. Either Tracy had a split personality
or she was innocent.

He started out playing Mr. Nice Guy with Tracy to discover the dark secrets behind that
sweet innocent face. So far, he discovered that she was just as beautiful on the inside as
the outside. But it’s hands off for you, he reminded himself.

Bradford appeared at last, escorting an elderly lady. Leif waited until the woman was
safely out the door and then stood as Bradford returned to greet him.

Well, hello, Chief. Sorry to keep you waiting. Mrs. Stubbleford is a difficult client.

Leif shrugged and shook Bradford’s extended hand.

Come into my inner sanctum. The lawyer exuded charm and good cheer.

Leif followed him into the spacious private office. He had to admit that the rows of legal
volumes that lined the walls were impressive.

Bradford waved him to a chair. Now, what can I do for you today?

Leif got straight to the point. I want to ask you about Tracy Dixon.

Bradford’s smile faded. I assume you are investigating Tracy for some reason.

I am, Leif said simply.

I’m sure you are aware that Judge Whitby is already investigating Tracy as the guardian ad
litem for Jeff Dixon. I understand that you turned down the appointment.

I did, Leif admitted. I felt that I was too personally involved with the family. But my
questions don’t have any connection with Tracy’s petition to be named Jeff’s conservator.

Bradford sat back in his swivel chair and folded his arms across his chest. ‘You
understand that I am Tracy’s attorney and that she is protected by attorney-client
privilege. Any matters between us are strictly confidential.

You weren’t her attorney three years ago, Leif reminded him. You were her fiancé.

Bradford didn’t respond. His mouth hardened into a straight line.

A number of people have told me that you spread the word around town that Tracy had been
involved in some illicit activities. I’ve checked back through the records, but I can’t
find her name mentioned in any of the police reports.

Well, of course, that shoplifting incident took place in Brockton.

And is that incident the shady past you were hinting at?

Bradford gave him a sly wink. Not every misdeed comes to the attention of the police.

Pinning Bradford down was as easy as nailing Jello to the wall. He was the ultimate
politician. But Leif was determined to persist with his questioning. Did these famous
misdeeds include anything illegal?

The lawyer drew himself up, the picture of injured dignity. I don’t think it’s my place to
be discussing Tracy’s personal affairs.

In other words, you don’t have a shred of evidence to support your rumors and insinuations
about her.

I didn’t say that, Bradford protested.

Then tell me the basis for the stories.

I repeat, I don’t feel it’s my place to be discussing Tracy’s personal affairs. That’s all
I have to say. Bradford was stonewalling.

Leif had questioned enough suspects to recognize a bluff when he heard one. That hostile,
defiant attitude meant Bradford was lying. There was no basis for his rumors about Tracy.

Abruptly Leif got to his feet. Thank you for your time, Counselor. I’ll see myself out.

He restrained himself from storming out of the room. He should have listened to Lucille
from the start. Bradford circulated the lies about Tracy so he wouldn’t look like such a
rat when he broke their engagement.

And he had swallowed those rumors too.
You’re an idiot, Ericson. You were as gullible as the rest of this town.

At last, he didn’t have to worry about the problems in Tracy’s past, but what about the
present? There was still the small matter of Ronda Starr’s jewelry.

It was a glorious spring day. Tracy decided to forget about burglars and weird strangers
and shadowy figures that might or might not be following her. She threw open the windows
to inhale the haunting fragrance of lilacs. The bushes on either side of the front door
were heavy with the pale purple blossoms.

You lived in the city too long, she thought. She had forgotten the wonderful sights and
smells of the country in spring. The house was clean from top to bottom. It was time to do
something about the yard.

With her wardrobe so limited, it was not a good idea to subject her clothes to yard work.
Her roommate had sent off her clothes from New York, but the boxes had not arrived yet. A
search of the ragbag produced a pair of her mother’s old gardening pants—patched,
re-patched and heavily stained. They were baggy, but she anchored them around her waist
with a length of rope.

How about her brother’s clothes? Jeff wouldn’t mind, but there was a problem—he stood
eight inches taller and at least eighty pounds heavier. His T-shirt covered her from neck
to ankles like a nightgown.

She couldn’t resist a glance in the mirror. Luckily there were no close neighbors to catch
her looking like a hobo.
Just don’t let this be the day Rev. Jim comes calling.

Raiding the old shed in the backyard, she armed herself with gardening tools and began a
survey of the property. Daisies sprang up along the low stone walls that marked the
boundaries of the property. New England did not suffer from a shortage of rocks.

She stopped to admire the delicate apple blossoms in the neighboring orchard then got down
to business. Her mother always kept a flower garden along the side of the house, but her
plants had succumbed to neglect. Here and there a brave iris thrust its head through the
weeds. The planter boxes under the windows showcased dirt instead of petunias and morning
glories.

I’ll start with Mom’s garden, but you’re next, she promised the planter boxes.

She lost all track of time as she uprooted weeds and turned the soil. This is my father’s
world, she sang cheerfully, feeling in tune with nature. One more weekend at Fisherman’s
Landing should give her enough money to invest in some seeds and plants.

It was nearing dusk when she heard the sound of an approaching car. She looked up to see
Leif’s SUV pulling into her driveway. Oh, no. Why did he have to show up now when she was
on her knees looking like Dorothy’s scarecrow in raggedy clothes, with every hair on her
head blowing in a different direction?

Leif was usually so stoic, but he broke into a huge grin as he crossed the yard.

Is this the elegant and fashionable Miss Tracy Dixon? he teased.

She scowled at him.

He reached out to rub a smudge of dirt from her cheek. For such a big tough guy he could
be so gentle.

I have orders to deliver you to Maggie Scalia’s, he announced.

To Maggie’s? she puzzled.

Instructions said, ‘Do not take no for an answer.’

But—but—I can’t go anywhere looking like this. I need a shampoo and a shower and clean
clothes ...

I’ll wait, Leif said calmly.

Too embarrassed to argue, she plodded meekly toward the door. Leif followed her into the
house. Maybe there’s something on TV you’d like to watch, she suggested.

Just go, he ordered.

Yes, sir. She saluted him gravely and hurried up the stairs.

I’ll bet that sneaky Maggie remembered it’s my birthday, she decided as she rinsed her
hair under the shower. But how did Leif get involved? If Maggie was playing matchmaker,
her schemes would go down the drain when Leif decided to arrest Tracy.

She dried her hair and pulled on jeans and a blouse in record time.

Leif looked totally at home, relaxing in the recliner as he leafed through her high school
yearbook. That was quick. I thought we’d be here a while. He closed the book and got to
his feet. I see you were voted most popular girl at Allerton High School.

Tracy blushed, remembering the circumstances of that election. She had just been charged
with shoplifting. I think my friends voted for me just to irritate their parents, she
confessed. I wasn’t too popular with the adults in town about then.

Leif insisted on following her around the house, peering over her shoulder as she locked
up. No matter what he thought about her character, he was as protective as a secret
service agent. Obviously, there would be no more burglaries on his watch.

The Scalias’ house blazed with lights when they arrived. Maggie and Bud were waiting in
their living room under an array of red and gold streamers and balloons. Our high school
colors, Tracy remembered. A gigantic banner across the wall proclaimed, Happy 26th
Birthday.

Tracy hugged them both. You are really sneaky. You wouldn’t believe what I looked like
when Leif came to get me. Thank goodness he didn’t have a camera.

The picture is etched in my memory, Leif announced solemnly.

Don’t worry about it. This is a come-as-you-are party, Maggie explained.

If I came over dressed as I was, you would have locked all the doors and hidden in the
kennels.

Maggie’s dinner was a triumph. Tracy’s very favorite foods—New England clam chowder and
steamed Maine lobster. What more could anyone want?

I hope you’re not tired of lobster after working at the Landing, Maggie teased.

 It will never happen, Tracy assured her. Serving them and eating them are not exactly the
same thing.

 Maggie, you should open your own restaurant. Leif rubbed his stomach. You’d put
Fisherman’s Landing out of business.

Tracy saw another side of Leif tonight. The stern, silent Viking kept them all in
hysterics with stories about some of the inept criminals he had put away. Her eyes were
riveted to the flash of those strong, white teeth and the crinkles of laughter around his
eyes.

Even Bud, normally shy and introverted in complete contrast to his exuberant wife, added
his share of strange stories about the misadventures of operating a kennel.

Tracy would have enjoyed sitting there all night, but she knew the Scalias were early
risers. Maggie, it’s getting late. Let me help you clean up here.

No, you’re the guest of honor. You can clean up when it’s my birthday. Besides, Leif has a
present for you.

I’ll be right back, Leif promised, disappearing out the back door. He returned leading a
half-grown puppy on a leash. The animal’s fur was a soft, silky brown. He pranced along
beside Leif on the biggest feet she had ever seen. He looked like an awkward adolescent
with too many arms and legs.

Tracy knelt to put her arms around the dog’s neck. The puppy proceeded to wash her face
with his tongue. His hindquarters wagged enthusiastically along with his tail. He gazed up
at her with soulful brown eyes.

She was captivated. Oh, Leif, thank you. He’s so adorable. What breed is he?

Bud eyed the puppy thoughtfully. In my expert opinion, he’s a dog.

Tracy giggled.

I think he’s mostly Golden Retriever, Maggie added, with maybe a little Collie.

I’m guessing he’s got some German Shepherd in the mix, Leif suggested. He’ll make a good
watchdog.

The dog didn’t look ferocious enough to defend her against a rabbit, but she was in love
with him at first sight. Does he have a name?

It’s your choice.

Tracy settled on the name of the Norse god of thunder. She knew the others wouldn’t
recognize the connection to Leif, her Viking. I’ll call him Thor.

As their gift Maggie and Bud contributed the food and equipment she would need. He’s had
all his shots, Maggie assured her, and he’s housebroken—most of the time.

How can you thank friends like that?
She hugged them goodnight. You are absolutely the best friends in the whole world.

As Leif drove her home, Thor sat in the back seat, wearing a huge grin. Tracy bubbled over
with plans for the puppy. I have some old blankets that will make a perfect bed. Maybe
I’ll let him sleep in my room for now. I’ve never had a dog. Do you think I can teach him
some tricks?

Leif laughed. The first trick you have to teach him is where to do his business. The next
trick is to keep him from chewing up your shoes and your furniture. You can get around to
‘sit, beg, and roll over’ a little later on.

As Tracy led Thor on his leash, Leif escorted her to her front door lugging a supersized
bag of puppy chow. I’ll feel better now that you’re not alone in the house, he said
gruffly.

Tracy looked up into those sea-gray eyes. Thank you so much, Leif. This is the best
birthday I’ve ever had.

For a long moment Leif stood silent, his gaze fastened on her face. Gently he reached out
a hand and traced the curve of her cheek. Tracy held her breath.

 Her birthday got even better as he lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
Standing on tiptoe, she put her arms around his neck and melted into his embrace. This was
crazy—he was a cop and she was America’s Most Wanted —but it felt so right.

 The kiss ended when Thor wrapped his leash around their legs.

 
****

 
The small handbell room was crammed with people and a floor full of bell cases. Thirteen
ringers stood elbow to elbow behind the padded tables which were arranged to form a
semi-circle around Tracy’s music stand.

 Leif pulled on his gloves and hefted the bells on the table in front of him. Although
they were no problem for him, he understood why Tracy needed some muscle for these lower
bells. Some of the smaller women would have trouble picking them up, let alone ringing
them.

 The lettering on his bells said F3 and G3. He had no idea what the markings meant, but
Tracy told him he should hold the F bell in his left hand and the G bell in his right
hand. She had circled the notes on his music with red and blue markers. A red circle meant
ring the right hand bell; blue meant ring the left hand bell. That didn’t sound too
complicated.

Handbells for dummies, he decided.

 Singing in the choir, he learned enough about music to recognize the various notes—an
eighth, a quarter, a half, a whole note—and how many beats to hold each one. All he had to
do was count. You can do this, he told himself.

He glanced around the room to see if anyone else looked as confused as he felt. Maggie was
there, of course, but he was surprised to see that Sheila Dunn had volunteered to ring.
Tracy was not one of Sheila’s favorite people.

Tracy looked like a little schoolmarm behind the music stand. Her beautiful dark hair,
pulled up in some kind of a fancy twist, made her look very dignified. He could tell that
she was in her element, excited about this first rehearsal with her rag-tag ringers.

Get your mind off that kiss, he told himself. The memory of that night sent his pulse into
overdrive. But he put on the brakes. He was in dangerous territory. No cop with a brain
would get involved with a suspect, but she had cast some kind of a spell over him. How had
she hypnotized him into joining a handbell choir?

Her sweet voice interrupted his musings. Now, to make the bells sound their best, we don’t
just bang them. She shook a bell with a harsh clang. To get a musical sound, we need to
make circles with our hands, like this. It not only sounds better, it looks more dramatic.
She demonstrated the correct way to ring. Now, everybody try it.

Leif tried to make a circular movement with his hand, but he was beginning to have doubts
about his coordination. Maybe his hands weren’t connected to his brain. In his first
attempt, he made a perfect circle, but no sound came out of the bell. With enormous
patience, Tracy showed him how to flick his wrist as he began his circle.

When the group seemed to be getting the hang of it, she went on. Now to stop the sound, we
need to damp the bell by touching it to our shoulder or chest. She demonstrated again,
ringing the bell with a graceful circling motion and then silencing the sound against her
sweater.

They all tried ringing and damping.

Now, everybody take a bell in each hand. Ring the bell in your right hand, damp the sound,
and then ring the bell in your left hand. They shouldn’t both ring at the same time.

After several minutes of ringing and damping, they were all anxious to try actually
playing a song.

Tracy picked Amazing Grace as their first piece. I tried to pick music that didn’t have
too many accidentals, she explained.

 
Accidentals?
Leif puzzled.
Whatever they are
. He felt like an accidental waiting to happen.

Tracy gave them a count of three and they all plunged enthusiastically into the song. The
result was total chaos. It sounded as though no two ringers were playing the same song.

Before they were halfway down the first page, Tracy signaled them to stop. She looked
shell-shocked. You have to count, she said patiently. This is three-four time. Three beats
to a measure. Don’t hurry. It isn’t a race to see who can finish first. When my baton
comes down, that’s beat one. You have to watch me.

Maggie spoke up. Tracy, how many music directors does it take to change a light bulb?

Tell me, she said.

Nobody knows. Maggie gave her a sly smile. Nobody watches the director.

Leif smothered a laugh. Watching the music and the director at the same time was not easy.

Very funny, Tracy scolded, but she joined in the laughter. Now, let’s try it again,
watching and counting, watching and counting.

Leif was surprised at their second attempt. There were a number of goofs, including a few
of his own but from time to time it was actually possible to recognize the song they were
playing.

Tracy looked thrilled. All right! she exclaimed. We’re on a roll. Let’s try it again.
Remember your circles.

Despite a few miscues, by the fourth time through, the sound was fairly good. The choir
gave itself a round of applause.

And then Leif felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Carefully he laid his bells on
the table and stepped out into the hall. Chief Ericson, he said.