of it.”
He ran his finger through the smudge that had been left on the newel post, then wiped it on the leg of his jeans. “The deputy also dusted my airplane. If this piece of shit is ever arrested, they’ll be able to connect him to both crimes and maybe even to the delivered rat.”
“Maybe we should have told them about your airplane.”
“And get into all that history?” He shook his head.
“I didn’t want to, either.”
“Let them nail a suspect first. Then we can connect the remaining dots for them.”
She folded her arms across her middle and hugged her elbows as she looked up the stairwell in the direction of her bedroom. “I was really coming to like this house. Now it’s been tainted.”
“It’ll clean up. But what about your landlord? Should you notify him?”
“He’s absentee.”
“Out of town?”
“Afghanistan. When he was deployed, his wife went to stay with her folks in Arizona. I leased for a year. I see no need to worry them. I’ll cover the charges.”
He took a business card from his shirt pocket. “The locksmith’s brother-in-law does make-ready cleaning on houses and apartments. Painting included. For a fair price and a signed copy of your book, he’ll have the house looking like new. And I was told that for next to nothing he’ll install an alarm system.”
She took the card. “I’ll call him.”
“First, come into the kitchen.”
“What’s in there? More damage?”
“No. I’m hungry.”
Five minutes later they had assembled a lunch of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and glasses of iced tea. He ripped open a bag of Fritos he’d found in the pantry, and when she declined the chips, he dug in.
Around a bite, he asked, “Any word from Houston?”
“I called Olivia on the drive here. Daddy opted for another round of chemo. They’re clinging to the hope it will do some good.”
“Did you tell her about your house?”
“No, I didn’t want to add to her worry. I did tell her about Van Durbin, though. I hated to, but at least I prepared them. They won’t be caught off guard by his column tomorrow.”
“Tell her about my airplane?”
“No.”
“So, as far as she knows, we parted company after we landed last night.”
“Actually, when I told her about being accosted by Van Durbin, it slipped out that you were with me.”
“Hmm. I wonder which upset her most, knowing that you’d been bushwhacked, or that I was at your side.”
“Don’t be provoking, Dent.”
“I haven’t provoked anything. Yesterday I was completely professional, but your stepmother has always treated me like a turd in the punch bowl, a contaminant, and yesterday was no exception. Not that I fucking care.”
“That’s the very attitude that’s provoking.”
He could’ve said more on the subject of Olivia, but decided against it. The woman’s husband was dying, after all. Besides, he’d never lost sleep over what Olivia Lyston thought of him, and he didn’t intend to. “How’d she take the news about Van Durbin’s upcoming column?”
“Unhappily.” She pinched off a morsel of bread crust and rolled it between her thumb and finger, studying the forming ball of dough. “I can’t say that I blame her for being upset.”
“If you didn’t want to upset your family, you shouldn’t have published a book that aired their dirty laundry.”
She looked at him with asperity. “I told you why I wrote it.”
“Yeah, so you could make a bad period in your life tangible, then wad it up, throw it away, and forget it. Good therapy for you, maybe. But it sucks for everybody else involved. Why didn’t you pour your heart out in a journal, then lock it up and throw away the key, or bury it in the backyard, or drop it into the ocean? Why’d you have to turn your therapy into a best seller?”
Pushing his empty plate aside, he placed his forearms on the edge of the table and leaned across it toward her. “Those of us who lived the story are a bit vexed to find ourselves in your spotlight, A.k.a.”
She came out of her chair. “So you’ve said. I don’t need to hear it again.”
He stood up and rounded the table to stand toe-to-toe with her. “Yeah, you do. Because somebody has moved past vexed. He’s good and truly pissed off. And he’s gonna be even more pissed off when it comes out tomorrow that maybe the case wasn’t as tightly sewn up as believed. Susan’s murder is going to be given a good, hard second look. I’ve got a hunch that’s not going to sit well with whoever scrawled that warning on your wall.”
She was staring up at him in defiance and denial of every word.
“You think I’m wrong?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly the starch went out of her. She lowered her head and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I wish you were, but I don’t think you are.”
He backed down. “Okay,” he said in a softer voice, “who’s the mystery guest?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to find out before his little pranks turn really ugly.”
She lowered her hand from her face and looked up at him. “Brilliant idea. How do you suggest going about it?”
“We start with the people who were directly involved. Begin with the key players and work outward, eliminating them one by one, until the son of a bitch is left standing, exposed.”
“
“Do you think Starsky and Hutch there are going to go digging into an eighteen-year-old murder case?”
“They investigate cold cases.”
“Not after the culprit has already been caught and convicted.”
“Convictions are overturned all the time.”
“But they’ve got to have a compelling reason to reopen the case. Can you provide them one?”
She shook her head.
“Right. My opinion? They’ll wait until you’re physically assaulted and/or dead before they take the threat seriously, because they probably concluded that it had something to do with me. And you believe I’m right. If you didn’t, you would have spilled the whole sordid story to them while they were here. You saved yourself the breath because you have no more faith in their getting to the bottom of this than I do. And I have none. Which leaves it up to us.”
“What do you know about police work?”
“Only that I don’t trust it.”
“You would drop everything and—”
“I’m grounded, remember? I’ve got nothing else to do. Besides, I have a vested interest in finding this jerk. And when I do, for what he did to my airplane, I’m going to bash in his skull.”
“Lovely. Do you expect me to be your accomplice?”
“Get this straight.” He took a step, bringing them closer. “I don’t play nice, Bellamy. I never have.”
After a taut moment, she broke his hard stare. “All right. For the time being, at least, we’ll help each other. But where do we start? Who do we start with?”
He went to the chair she’d left empty moments earlier and held it for her. “We start with you.”
Chapter 6
