There was a short silence behind him. He heard movement on the cot. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Adelaide was stretching again. But she was sitting up on the edge of the narrow bed. The blanket was pulled securely around her, covering the entire front of her body. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She no longer looked luxuriously sleepy. Instead there was a new tension about her. He could sense her uncertainty. His good mood started to evaporate. Damn. She was already having regrets.
She cleared her throat. “This is rather awkward, isn’t it?”
“The fact that someone wants to kill us? Yeah, I’d say that definitely qualifies as awkward.”
“I wasn’t talking about that,” she mumbled. “I meant this.” She waved one hand. “Us.”
He tossed some kindling onto the fire and watched the flames leap. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were inexperienced?”
“Because it didn’t matter, not to me. Did it matter to you?”
“Yes. No. I probably would have gone about things more slowly if I had known.”
Then again, maybe not, he thought. The realization that she wanted him had made him ravenous.
“I thought it all went quite well,” Adelaide said.
She sounded so smug, so pleased with herself. He smiled.
“I thought it went rather well, too,” he said.
“Don’t worry, I won’t read too much into what just happened,” she added quickly.
He stopped smiling. Straightening, he gripped the mantel and concentrated on the flames.
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked.
She exhaled softly. “I’m just trying to get things back on track between us.”
“We are not a couple of trains passing in the night, Adelaide.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that. The thing is, we’re partners. Two people caught up in a dangerous situation. We were thrown together by circumstances. You mustn’t worry that I will now think of us as . . . as lovers, simply because of what happened tonight.”
He had told himself that he would be patient. Sensitive. She had been through a lot lately. But a man could only take so much.
He turned around to face her. “We are partners. We are in a dangerous situation. And we were thrown together by circumstances. But like it or not, as of tonight, we are also lovers. Even if we never sleep together again for the rest of our lives, you cannot claim that we are not lovers.”
She watched him with a startled expression. “Are you angry?”
He thought about it. “‘Angry’ may be too strong a word. I’m irritated. Annoyed. Exasperated. If we pursue this argument much longer, I may get angry.”
“What argument?” She got to her feet, clutching the blanket at her throat. “For your information, I wasn’t arguing. I merely made what I consider to be a very reasonable observation. I thought describing what happened as ‘awkward’ was a lot more genteel than some other terms that spring to mind. After all, it’s not as if we’re in love and planning to marry. We’re a couple of people who are stuck together until we figure out who is trying to murder us.”
“You can call our relationship whatever you want—just don’t call it awkward.” He crossed the room in three long strides and gripped her shoulders. “Because it doesn’t feel awkward to me.”
“Really?” She paused, frowning a little. “How would you describe it?”
“Damned if I know. And damned if I care. Just remember that whatever happens in the future, we are now lovers.”
She started to separate her hands in a gesture of exasperation. At the last second, evidently remembering that she was nude, she tightened her grip on the blanket instead.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I can’t believe we’re arguing about something as trivial as how to label our relationship when we’ve got much bigger problems.”
“You’re absolutely right.” He raised his hands from her shoulders and cupped her face. “Our heated discussion sounds a lot like a lovers’ quarrel to me.”
Her eyes widened. For a few beats he thought he had pushed her too far and that she was really going to explode. Instead she grimaced. She followed that with a rueful smile.
“I refuse to admit that it was a lovers’ quarrel,” she said. “However, I do appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood.”
“I was dead serious, but never mind. As you said, we’ve got other problems. As soon as the fog starts to lift we’re going to have to hike back to that gas station and explain my wrecked car to the owner and, no doubt, the local cops. Not that they’ll be able to do anything.”
“Why not?”
“Whoever tossed that stick of dynamite under my convertible will be gone at first light, assuming he decided not to risk the fog last night. Meanwhile, we need to figure out how to get back to Burning Cove.”
“I suppose we could always hitchhike,” Adelaide said.
“That would take hours, maybe the rest of the day. I’ve got some cash. With luck the proprietor of the gas station will know one of the locals who will be happy to sell us a used car.”
“You’re right about the hitchhiking,” Adelaide said. “With our luck the one car that would stop to give us a lift would be the one that was driven by the killer.”
“I doubt it. I think it’s far more likely that, until proven otherwise, he’ll assume we’re dead. He will certainly hope that’s the case.”
* * *
• • •
Adelaide hung up the pay phone and moved out of the booth. “Gill is away on a fishing trip. That means he could have been the one who murdered Thelma Leggett.”
“We’ve got enough suspects to go around,” Jake said. “What we need now is a motive.”
They walked to the battered Oldsmobile sedan. Jake opened the passenger side door. “It’s not a speedster,” he said. “But with luck it will get us back to Burning Cove.”
He closed the door and walked around the front to get behind the wheel.
“Did you get the feeling that the local police are very glad that we are leaving town?” Adelaide asked.
Jake fired up the Oldsmobile’s engine and put the car in gear.
“Yes, I did get that impression,” he said.
Adelaide smiled.
Jake gave her a quick, searching glance before he pulled out onto the road.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Nothing. It just occurred to me that my nerves are evidently strong enough to survive a real wedding night,” she said.
He surprised her with a wicked smile. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that you can handle the physical demands of married life.”
Chapter 40
Adelaide was back at work in the tearoom by three o’clock, just in time to help with the afternoon rush. The last customer departed an hour and a half later. She collected the empty cups and carried them into the kitchen. She was running water into the sink in preparation for washing the dishes when she heard the bell chime over the front door. Florence bustled across the tearoom to respond.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said. “We close at four thirty. I can sell you some packaged tea to take with you and I believe I may have one or two pastries left, but if you would like full service, I’m afraid you’ll have to return tomorrow. We open at nine.”
“I’m not here for tea,” Conrad Massey said in a stone-cold voice. “I came to find my wife.”
The cup that Adelaide had been about to wash fell from her fingers. Fortunately there was enough water in the sink to cushion the landing. The cup did not break. She gripped the edge of the counter with both hands and reminded herself to breathe.
You knew that sooner or later you would have to confront the bastard, she reminded herself. You’re not alone now. You’ve got friends. He’s not going to try to kidnap you in broad daylight—not when there ar
e witnesses. And there were certainly a lot of those around. In addition to Florence, there were a number of shoppers on the sidewalk outside. That should have been reassuring but it did nothing to slow her heart rate.
Should have brought my gun, she thought.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Florence said, her voice sharpening with suspicion.
“I don’t know what she’s told you, but the woman who is calling herself Adelaide Brockton is my wife,” Conrad said.
“You’re out of your mind,” Florence said. “I insist you leave immediately or I will call the police.”
“I’m afraid it’s poor Adelaide who is not mentally stable,” Conrad said. “She suffered a nervous breakdown on our wedding night. I had to have her committed to an asylum. But she escaped. I’m here to take her back to the hospital, where she can continue receiving proper treatment.”
Florence said, “Adelaide isn’t married. You’re the crazy person. Go on, get out of here.”
“You can’t stop me from seeing my wife.”
Adelaide finally managed to take in some oxygen. A fierce anger burned through the shock and panic that had struck her when she heard Conrad’s voice. She pushed herself away from the sink, wiped her hands on her apron, and strode across the kitchen. She picked up a large bread knife before she went through the door.
Conrad, fashionably dressed in a pair of light-colored, crisply pleated trousers, white shirt, tie, and blue coat, looked at her. He started to assume an expression of deep concern. Then he noticed the knife.
“Adelaide,” he yelped, “what do you think you’re doing? Put that down.”
“Stop trying to intimidate my boss,” she said. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Damn right, he’s wasting his time,” Florence said.
Conrad recovered his air of husbandly concern. “Adelaide, my dear, thank goodness I found you. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Stop right there.” Adelaide aimed the knife at him. “You lied to me, you conned me, you cheated me, and you had me locked up against my will. If you think I’m going to believe anything you say, you’re the one who is crazy.”
“I just want to talk to you, sweetheart. If you put the knife down, we can go somewhere quiet and have a cup of coffee together.”
“So that you can slip some Daydream into my drink the way you did the night you arranged for me to be kidnapped?”
“You weren’t kidnapped,” Conrad said. “You had a nervous breakdown that was followed by amnesia. The stress of our wedding night was too much for your delicate nerves.”
“There was no wedding night, certainly not one that resulted in the consummation of our marriage. I happen to know that for a fact now.”
Conrad’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Forget it,” Adelaide said. “It’s none of your damned business.”
“Sweetheart, you’re delusional. That’s why you had to be committed. But you were getting better at the sanitarium. I was planning to bring you home. Now you’ve undone all the benefits of the medication you were receiving. You need to return to Rushbrook for more treatment.”
“I’ve got news for you, Conrad, I’m as stable as I’m ever going to get.”
Florence glared at Conrad. “I told you to leave.”
“Don’t you dare threaten me,” Conrad said. “I’m here to take my wife back to the sanitarium. She is dangerously ill. Just look at that knife she’s holding if you don’t believe me.”
Adelaide raised the knife in a deliberately threatening manner. “Stop calling me your wife.”
“It’s the truth,” Conrad said. But he took a step back, putting a little more distance between them. “Surely you remember our wedding in Reno. You were so happy. I gave you a gold wedding band. You were wearing it when you went into the sanitarium.”
“I know a private investigator who can discover the truth. If it turns out that you actually managed to bribe some Reno judge to marry us while I was under the influence of the drug, I’ll go back to Reno to file for divorce. Oh, wait, I can get the marriage annulled on the grounds that it was never consummated.”
“There was a wedding,” Conrad insisted. “That gold ring is proof.”
There was a slight movement in the kitchen doorway. Adelaide turned her head and saw Jake. He was not looking at her. Instead he watched Conrad with ice-cold eyes.
“If Adelaide ends up on the train to Reno, she won’t be alone,” he said. “I’ll be with her to make sure she gets there safely. The judges in Nevada don’t ask a lot of questions. She’ll get her divorce—assuming she actually needs one, which I doubt. I can personally testify to the fact that your marriage, if it ever took place, was never consummated.”
Conrad’s face reddened with fury. “You must be Jake Truett. I’ve heard all about you. You took advantage of my poor wife’s delusional condition to seduce her. You’re after her inheritance. Admit it.”
Jake fixed Conrad with an intense curiosity that Adelaide decided could only be described as predatory. It was the expression of a wolf that was about to go for the throat.
“Is that right?” he asked very softly. “Who told you that?”
Conrad took another step back. “Dr. Gill, the head of the Rushbrook Sanitarium, phoned to tell me that Adelaide had been located here in Burning Cove. He warned me that there were rumors that a businessman from L.A. was trying to seduce her. You obviously figured out who she is. You know she inherited a fortune.”
“Dr. Gill told you that, did he?” Jake said. “And just how did Gill discover that Adelaide was here in town?”
“How the hell should I know?” Conrad shot back.
Adelaide did not wait for Jake to respond. “Speaking of my inheritance, Conrad, I’ll be hiring a lawyer soon. He’ll explain things to the bankers who are handling my money. They will probably prosecute you for fraud and embezzlement.”
Conrad was seething now. “Don’t you understand? Truett is the one who is trying to con you. He wants to marry you for your money.”
“Who said anything about marriage?” Adelaide shot back. “I have every intention of controlling my own money and my own future. Now go away and leave me alone.”
Florence gave Conrad a steely smile. “You’ve got to the count of ten before I call the cops and have you locked up for trespassing. One . . . two . . .”
Adelaide gestured toward the door with the knife. “Get out of here.”
Jake folded his arms and lounged against the doorjamb. “You heard the ladies.”
Conrad looked as if he wanted to commit murder but he did not say another word. He swung around and stalked back across the tearoom and outside onto the sidewalk. He slammed the door so hard the glass rattled.
An eerie silence descended on Refresh. No one moved for a few beats. And then Adelaide realized that she suddenly felt very light—excited and thrilled.
“Thank you,” she said softly. She did not take her eyes off the front door. “Thank you both.”
“You don’t have to worry about the likes of him,” Florence said. “You’ve got friends here in Burning Cove.”
“For the past two months I’ve been terrified that Conrad would find a way to make me vanish again, just as he did the first time,” Adelaide said.
“That trick may have worked in San Francisco,” Jake said. “But this is Burning Cove. The rules are different here.”
Florence peered at Adelaide. “Did that man really have you committed to an asylum so that he could get his hands on your inheritance?”
“Yes,” Adelaide said.
Florence shuddered. “It’s like something right out of the movies. Thank goodness you escaped.”
Adelaide gave her a shaky smile. “You mean, thank heavens I’ve got friends like you.”
Jake looked thoughtful. “That brings up a question I’ve b
een meaning to ask you. You do have friends here in Burning Cove. You must have had friends in San Francisco, too.”
“I did,” Adelaide said. “Most of them were my colleagues at the botanical library.”
“Why didn’t they ask questions when you suddenly vanished?” Jake said.
“I wondered the same thing,” Adelaide said. “A few weeks ago I finally worked up my nerve to place an anonymous phone call to the library. I asked for Adelaide Blake. I was told that she had moved back east to live with relatives.”
“Huh,” Jake said.
Adelaide looked at him. “What?”
“I’m wondering exactly when Gill located you.”
“I can tell you one thing for sure,” Adelaide said. “You can’t believe anything Conrad Massey says.”
Chapter 41
Conrad lit another cigarette and contemplated the martini on the table in front of him. The glass did not look clean.
It was Gill who had insisted that they meet at the Carousel. It was a dark, grimy, smoke-filled dive. He figured it had probably been a speakeasy during Prohibition. Not his kind of place, he thought. He would have much preferred the swanky bar at the Burning Cove Hotel or the Paradise Club. But Gill wanted to stay out of sight.
It was early evening. The Carousel was still empty except for the handful of customers hunkered down on the bar stools. The bored cocktail waitress was making idle conversation with the bartender.
A shadow fell across the table. Conrad looked up.
“I take it your plan did not go well,” Gill said. He lowered himself into the booth on the opposite side of the table. “I warned you that it wouldn’t be so easy this time. She’s on guard now and Truett is keeping an eye on her.”
“He wants to control her inheritance.”
“Certainly. His motive is the same as your own. The problem is that possession is nine-tenths of the law and, for the moment, at any rate, he’s got possession of her.”
“All I need is ten minutes alone with Adelaide,” Conrad said. “Just long enough to slip the drug into her drink. Ten lousy minutes. Once she’s under the influence, I can make her trust me, at least long enough to get her back to Rushbrook.”