Poisoned by Gilt (31 page)

had gone so wrong with her home that he had deemed

this appointment an emergency, we should both attend.

He had unreasonably countered that he needed to handle this alone. Fed up, I asked, "Why? Are you two having

a fling?" And as he stormed out the door, he had yelled,

"Erin, please! I've got enough troubles on my mind without you acting jealous!"

When I arrived at Matthew's store, the strung-out sales

clerk was talking in agitated tones on his cell phone. He

did a double take at me as I approached, then said,

"Here's someone," into his phone, flipped his phone

shut, and headed toward me.

Unable to imagine an enjoyable outcome after that

greeting, I took a tiny step back.

"You were here before," he said to me. "Listen, dude, I

gotta split. When Matthew gets back, tell him I had an

emergency."

"But, wait! Where's Matthew?"

"He'll be right back," he answered over his shoulder.

He charged through the door.

"Okay, then," I murmured to myself. Well, I could

wait five minutes for Matthew. At which time I would be

sure to get his employee's name to nominate him for a

good-service award.

The phone behind the counter rang. I took a moment

to consider what I'd want a customer to do if this was my

store, but decided to answer it anyway, in case Matthew

was calling. "M.H. Custom Furniture," I said cautiously.

"Yeah," a man said. "How late are you open?"

"Six P.M." I answered, reasonably certain that was accurate. I tensed. A large and extremely scruffy-looking man

had chosen that moment to enter the store. I wondered if

254
L e s l i e C a i n e

this was who the flake had been talking to on his cell

phone before bolting. Maybe he was here to rob the place.

"Okay. Thanks," the caller said.

"You're welcome," I replied, briefly toying with the notion of asking him to send the police. This was one scarylooking customer/robber. He was at least six feet seven

and three hundred pounds, wearing grubby gray sweats,

and unshaven except for his lumpy scalp. He'd have

looked equally fitting in an Oakland Raiders uniform or

prison garb. I hung up.

"Hey. Is your boss here?" His voice was deep enough

to make the floorboards rumble.

"Matthew stepped out. But he'll be back any second.

Literally." I chewed on my lip. Should I tell him that I

didn't work here and didn't know how to work the cash

register? As far as I was concerned, he was welcome to

take the whole thing with him.

"Just want to know where I can unload the copper."

He gave me a wink.

My sense of relief at his wink was enormous. It meant

that the man wasn't a robber. Well, actually, it meant that

he'd probably stolen the copper, but wasn't here to rob

me. I was never again going to have such a golden opportunity to check into Matthew's business ethics. I found

myself able to grin as the large man held my gaze. "Is this

the kind of shipment that fell off a truck, by any chance?"

He laughed. "You got it, lady."

"The loading dock is right around back."

"Can I get around the building on the left side, or the

right?"

Beats me was not going to be a good answer. Whereas

getting myself outside where I could hightail it to my car

would be advantageous. "I'll come out and show you."

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
255

"Suit yourself."

He led the way outside, not bothering to slow the door

from swinging back at me. With my chances no worse

than fifty-fifty, I indicated with my chin that we should go

to the left. "So, where did you get this copper . . . really?"

He eyed me. "Where do ya think?"

"I've heard about people stripping copper out of

houses that have been foreclosed . . . ripping out the copper pipes and even the electrical wires."

He chuckled. "Good guess. You're not as naive as you

look."

I silently wondered if I should consider that a compliment.

"But, for the record, Matthew and I work on a strictly

no-ask-no-tell basis. For all our dealings."

"Are you the one who gets him the ivory for his inlays?"

"Could be." He looked at the concrete dock. Luckily,

I'd chosen the right path for him to drive down; the other

side was barricaded. "I'll go move my truck. You can unlock the back door."

"I don't actually have access to Matthew's keys. But

he's probably returned to the store by now. My name's

Erin Smith," I lied. "What's yours?"

He narrowed his eyes. "That's one of those no-ask-notell business dealings I was explaining a moment ago."

He held out his hand. "That'll be nine hundred. Cash

only."

"Erin!" Matthew's voice boomed at me. He was

marching toward us, his gaze smoldering. "What the hell

are you doing?"

That was an excellent question. Moments ago I'd been

so frightened that I was willing to hand over a cash register,

256
L e s l i e C a i n e

and now I was standing behind a building with this shady

character! What kind of a moron was I?! "Here's the man

with the money, right here," I said, gesturing toward

Matthew.

"What are you doing back here?!" Matthew asked me

again.

"Showing your supplier where to unload your materials."

Matthew clenched his jaw and shot us both a furious

glare, which he allowed to linger on the big man. "You've

been here a dozen times. You know where the loading

dock is. What's up, Lee?"

He grinned. "I'm just having a little fun, teasing your

new employee. That's all."

"She doesn't work here! She's a decorator!"

Designer, actually, but this wasn't a good time to quibble. I edged away, planning on running for all I was

worth.

"She sure acted like she was. When I got here, she was

standing behind your--"

"Hey, Matthew," a familiar voice called. I whirled

around, immensely relieved to see Sullivan heading

toward us. He waggled his thumb over his shoulder. "Did

you know that there's nobody inside, minding your

store?"

"Your clerk said he had an emergency and took off," I

explained. "So I answered your phone. And by the way, if

you can just deliver Burke's desk for us tomorrow, that'd

be great. You can send us the bill."

While I was talking, I grabbed Steve's arm and started

to head with him toward my van.

"I don't know what you think you found out just now,"

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
257

Matthew called after me, "but it's all perfectly legal. I'm

simply buying some used copper."

"I'm sure," I called back lightly, my heart still pounding.

"What were you talking to her about?" I heard

Matthew ask Lee under his breath.

"Nothing," came the low reply.

We passed Lee's large, unmarked white van. I whispered to Sullivan, "Get that license plate."

Sullivan keyed the license plate number into his cell

phone. His van was parked right next to mine. He grumbled at me, "I am not even going to ask what the hell you

thought you were doing just now."

"Good, because I already know I made a stupid mistake, and we need to get out of here."

We'd barely pulled out of the parking lot in our separate vans before my cell phone rang. It was Sullivan. I

could see him on the phone in my mirror. "What were

you doing just now?" he asked in lieu of a greeting.

"First off, thank you for not shouting." This time I

probably deserved it. "But you said you weren't going to

ask me that."

"Changed my mind. Answer the question."

"Originally, I was just going to pay for the desk. That

big guy confused me with an employee, but that isn't important now. What matters is that I found out Matthew's

company is buying stolen goods this very minute, so we

should get the police over there pronto."

"That was a supplier you and Matthew were talking

to?"

"Yes, and he admitted he'd stripped the copper wiring

and pipes from a house."

"Jeez. I read someplace that World's Watchdogs was

258
L e s l i e C a i n e

trying to call people's attention to that very crime.

Copper is now five times more expensive than it was a

decade ago."

"At least copper is being recycled this way. Stolen, yes,

but recycled nevertheless."

"I'll call Officer Delgardio," Sullivan said. "Maybe I

should double back. Matthew might send that van owner

packing before he buys the stuff. He's got to figure you

were going to blow the whistle on him."

"No, Sullivan. If Linda wants your help making an arrest, she'll ask for it."

He let out a bark of laughter. "You're telling me something like that? To stay out of police business?"

"Because it's impossible to say what those guys will do

next. I caught them red-handed. Luckily, you arrived in

the nick of time."

"Yeah. I was there because we got our wires crossed. I

spoke to Matthew yesterday, and I thought I was going to

pay for the desk, not you. We seem to be on a different

page. Once again."

"Tell that to Jennifer Fairfax," I blurted out. "Miss

Hands-on."

There was a pause long enough for me to feel like my

heart was now in my throat. "What are you talking

about?" he asked finally.

I pulled into our small parking lot and into my space.

"I recognized her shade of lipstick this morning. Are you

going to tell me you're not seeing her?"

His phone clicked off, and he pulled into the space

beside me. I got out of my car, just as he was coming

around the side. "I know full well she's after you,

Sullivan. It couldn't be more obvious."

"That isn't my fault, Gilbert. Nothing's going to come

P o i s o n e d b y G i l t
259

of it because I told her I was in--" He broke off, looked

away, and said, "--a really bad place right now."

Stunned, as he'd obviously been on the verge of saying

something very different, I managed to mutter, "Oh.

Good." Had he been on the verge of using the "L" word?

Or was he merely going to say that he was involved with

me? Or interested in someone else?

"Give me Delgardio's number," he demanded irritably. He was avoiding my gaze. It wasn't his fault how

Jennifer behaved, after all. She did tend to kiss people's

cheeks when she greeted them. The lipstick on his collar

could have meant nothing.

I brought up Linda's work number on my phone and

held it out to him. He almost yanked the phone from my

grasp, then turned his back on me.

I tried to take stock of the situation. This morning, I'd

freaked out because of his collar, accusing him of not

showing me he cared and constantly yelling at me. Yet

two weeks ago he'd given me a rose carved from a grape.

That was both creative and endearing. Now I'd held him

accountable for someone else's flirtatious behavior, idiotically put myself in real physical danger, and backed him

into such a corner that he hadn't dared to even yell at

me--even though shouting was probably justified.

While I raked myself over the coals, Sullivan calmly

explained the situation at Matthew's store to Linda. If I

had to guess what he was thinking about me, it would be

that we should admit defeat and stop trying to date, once

and for all. It was probably high time one of us grabbed

the reins and admitted that was the wisest move for both

our sakes.

Sullivan said, "Okay, thanks," and snapped my phone

shut. He tossed me my phone. "She says to tell you hi,

260
L e s l i e C a i n e

and that if you go back to Matthew's store she'll never

speak to you again."

"Is it too late to tell her 'hi' back?"

Sullivan stared at the asphalt a foot or two ahead of

where I was standing. He sighed. "Erin, I really think--"

He broke off and finally sighed.

"What?" I prompted.

He searched my features, his eyes pleading.

Just say it, I silently urged. Say we need to stop dating

so that I don't have to. Because I can't.

"I really think I can handle the job at Suzanne's on my

own today. So you might as well go home and oversee the

demo work on Audrey's kitchen."

"Okay. Thanks."

I stepped aside and watched as he got back in his van

and drove away. He didn't look back at me even once.

c h a p t e r
2 1

Later that afternoon, my first remodel-related task

in my own home turned out to be getting

Audrey out of the house. The exasperation etched on the

foreman's face, along with the limited progress his crew

had made with the demolition, had made my role abundantly clear. I convinced her to accompany me to the salvage yard to see if they had gotten in any useful items or

materials for the remodel. They hadn't, actually, but

Audrey was a shopaholic when it came to any and all

household items, so she cheerfully purchased a used

eight-by-ten red heavy-duty plastic mat for the garage

262
L e s l i e C a i n e

floor. She hoped to use it in her potting shed someday.

Provided she ever actually built one.