Chaste Kiss (24 page)

Voices on the stairs pulled her from the haze she'd fallen into. How long had she been sitting there staring off into space?

"Right this way, detective,” Debi said.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, and, uh, watch your head. Low ceiling.” Debi chuckled softly.

"Thanks. I'll remember that,” Mick grumbled.

As they approached her desk, Isabel noticed the annoyed look on his face as he rubbed his forehead. It wasn't like him to display any sort of emotion, but then they'd become such good friends, she suspected he was a little disturbed by the latest development in her case.

"Detective Wise is here to see you.” Debi's wide grin and humor tinting her voice brought a smile to Isabel's face. She was relieved to see her friend back to her old self instead of dealing with her own haunting memories.

Isabel stood, and for a fleeting moment she thought Mick was going to pull her into his arms, but he hesitated and glanced to the side at Debi. Professionalism obviously winning out, he took hold of her hand and held it for several moments. It was just as well. She'd probably break down and cry her eyes out. Something she didn't want to do in front of Debi. Her friend had enough baggage to deal with without worrying about her.

"Sorry I couldn't get here earlier, Isabel,” he said.

"That's all right. I know you're busy."

After a moment of soaking up the strength he offered through his touch, they sat down.

"Could I get either one of you some coffee or anything?” Debi asked.

"Nothing for me. Thanks, Deb,” Isabel said.

"How about you, detective? Would you care for anything? Coffee, tea—cold pack?” She cast him one of her winning smiles.

He scowled. “I'll pass."

"Whatever tricks your trigger, Columbo."

Mick visibly bristled at the moniker. Isabel choked back a snort of laughter, surprised she managed to find anything funny. Then again, Debi was good medicine. She never kept her thoughts to herself, and as it happened, Mick did look like Columbo wearing his crumpled old raincoat coat.

He chose that moment to reach into his pocket and pull out his notepad and pen. Both women spontaneously cleared their throats to cover their giggles. All that was missing was the cigar. Odd she'd never noticed the resemblance before. He shot a glare at both of them as he flipped open the pad and rested it on his knee.

"Well, I've got boxes to unpack,” Debi said, and swirled away, brushing Mick's pad and pen with her skirt.

He flinched, ever so slightly. If Isabel hadn't been watching him, she would have missed it entirely.

Debi paused at the top of the stairs and gave his back the once over. She waggled her delicate brows and winked before disappearing.

Interesting
. Could a match between these two be possible?

What an absurd thought. They had nothing in common. Mick was a man who liked to be in complete control of his surroundings and usually was. He didn't like surprises. Although his clothes could use an iron, he always dressed conservatively and without flair. He was analytical and exacting in everything. Even when he spoke, she had no doubt that he'd thoroughly thought it through before ever opening his mouth.

Debi, on the other hand, did things on the spur of the moment, said whatever came to mind, and always saw the brighter side to things. She was cheerful and animated, where Mick was usually grim and methodical. They were absolute opposites.

Then again, if opposites really did attract, they were in for one major collision.

"You received another note,” he said in his usual monotone voice.

Isabel's musings abruptly ended. For a moment she had something pleasant to think about. She nodded and pointed to the box on the edge of her desk.

He took hold of the lid by its corners and carefully lifted it. After reading the note, he gently replaced the cover.

"Debi got it from a delivery boy. I opened it, but I didn't touch anything inside,” she said.

"You did the right thing. I doubt we'll be able to learn anything from it, but it's worth a try. I'll question your assistant later.” He pulled a large plastic bag from his coat pocket and placed the box inside. “I don't want you opening any more packages. If you receive something, I want you and Miss Cummings to get out of the building and call me."

She felt the blood rush from her face straight to her toes. “You think he'd send me a bomb?"

"I doubt it, but I'm not taking any chances."

But she had a business to run, a dream to fulfill. Quickly burying her fear, she said, “This is a business, Mick. I get packages all the time. I can't call you every other minute."

"You know when you're expecting shipments. Take those, but don't touch anything you aren't expecting. I'm also going to put ‘round the clock surveillance on you, but you've got to promise me to keep your travels to a minimum."

"I guess Debi could run most of the errands, but there will be times when I have to go out."

"We'll deal with it as the need arises."

Isabel nodded regretfully. Whether she liked it or not, he was trying to protect her, and he deserved as much cooperation from her as he could get.

"So how have you been other than this?” he asked, gesturing to the box.

"Good. We're ready to open the doors tomorrow, and I already have a prospective client for a decorating job, thanks to Debi."

He nodded. “So, tell me about your assistant."

"You mean you haven't done a full background check on her yet?” She couldn't help teasing him. He probably knew more about the people in her life than she did, except for one very special ghost.

"As a matter of fact, I have. What I want to know is what you think about her.” He nervously tapped his pen against the arm of the chair.

Isabel smiled. Debi was obviously not what he expected after reading his reports. It appeared she'd managed to knock the stoic detective a little cock-eyed. Something he wasn't used to.

"Well, she's dependable, intelligent, funny, and a pleasure to work with.” She paused and smiled. “And single."

Mick cleared his throat. “I'm aware of that. Do you trust her?"

"Implicitly. I've known her since we were kids."

"All right then.” He stood, replacing the pen and paper in his pocket. “I'll go ask her a few questions and take this back to the office."

"Mick. I'm assuming you know about what happened to her several years ago."

"Yeah, I know about it."

"She's still not over it. She may look okay, but inside she's not. This whole thing is bringing back a lot of painful memories. Take it easy on her when you talk to her, okay?"

He nodded, his expression oddly introspective. Then in a blink, he was back to business. “Remember, if you need me for anything, call me."

"I will. And thanks, Mick."

He gave her one of his rare smiles. “Just doing my job."

Once he left, Isabel turned back to the window and studied the rain. Some lunatic was still out there and still wanted her dead. Why had he fixated on her? What had she done or not done, said or not said, to instigate all this? The questions had banged around in her head for months. The same questions Debi asked herself so many years ago.

She shivered and rubbed her arms. More than anything, she wished William was with her. Just the sound of his voice would make her feel better.

Isabel spun around in her chair, snatched up the phone, and dialed home. Constance picked up after the third ring.

"Is William there? I need to speak with him,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

"He's in the library again on your uncle's new computer. I don't know how you two convinced him to buy that thing. All he ever does is play solitaire on it. William's the only one who ever uses it for research. Hang on a minute, and I'll go get him."

She smiled at the mental picture Constance had created. William picked up on everything so quickly. The car, the cash register, the computer, she could almost believe he'd been born in the twentieth century instead of four hundred years earlier.

Finally, his deep voice came through the phone. She let it wash over her, expecting it to calm her nerves, but instead it heated them up. Maybe calling him wasn't the best idea after all. Now she'd be thinking about him the rest of the day, as if she didn't do enough of that already.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your research, William,” she said.

"No need to apologize. I was not having much luck anyway.” He paused a moment. “Do you realize this is the first time I have ever spoken on the telephone?"

She giggled. “I guess it is."

"Is there something amiss, sweeting?"

"No. I was just feeling a little lonely.” She wanted to tell him about the note, but didn't want to worry him. Mick was working on it and that was enough.

"Is that outspoken wench that works for you giving you trouble again?” he asked.

Although Debi and William had never met, he remembered the trouble she and her friend had gotten into when they were little and had ascertained a fairly clear picture of the grownup Debi.

"No she isn't. She's been very helpful today. So what seems to be the problem with your research?"

"A fire in London during the Second World War, destroyed records I had hoped would lead me to the next generation. I am at a loss as to where to look now."

"Didn't you say you'd discovered a lawyer who handled a lot of the family business a while back? Maybe you could find something there. I wouldn't doubt it if the firm he worked for still exists."

"Isabel, my love, as always you amaze me."

"I'm glad I could help. And thanks for cheering me up."

"My pleasure. Will you be coming home soon?"

"I have a few more things to do, then I'll be along,” she said.

"I shall see you then."

"Bye.” She gently hung up the phone. The words “I love you” were so close to her lips, she had to struggle to keep them in. Every time she said them aloud, another tiny crack spread across her heart. It became more and more difficult with each passing day.

She wanted a normal life with William. She wanted to touch him, to be with him, she wanted it all, but had to settle for a great deal less. By not saying the words, she hoped to spare herself and him some of the pain. The phone rang beneath her hand, and she nearly jumped out of her chair.

Taking a steadying breath, she lifted the receiver. “Derrington Antiques."

"I failed to tell you something of great import. I love you,” William said softly.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Are you sure you didn't just need an excuse to use the telephone.” She forced a light tone to her voice, even though the tears were about to choke her.

"I need no excuses to love you, sweet Isabel."

"I love you too, William.” She hung up, then dropped her head to her desk and cried. Why did love have to hurt so much?

An hour later, she finished up the last of her work for the day and headed downstairs. “Ready to close up?” she asked, entering the storage room.

"Yep.” Debi turned out the light and followed her out into the shop.

Isabel wrapped her arms around herself as she walked to the window. Her appointed guard sat patiently across the street in his car. “I really wish you weren't mixed up in this."

"Hey, what are friends for?” Debi stepped up beside her and smiled broadly. “And anyway. You know darn well I'm not the type to stand around and do nothing when a friend's in trouble. So, what time are you picking me up in the morning?"

"Does Mick know about us carpooling tomorrow?"

"Yep. I told him,” Debi said.

"He, uh, didn't upset you with his questions, did he?"

"Me? Ha! You could say I was the one giving him the third degree."

Isabel shook her head. “Why do I find that not impossible to believe?"

"It's my dazzling personality,” Debi replied, batting her eyes.

Isabel laughed good and hard. There was no way she could stay down with Debi around. “What would I ever do without you?"

"Be bored. Now, what time should I look for you? I figure you'll want to get here early."

"How about seven-thirty?"

Feigning a shudder of disgust, she asked, “Sure you don't just want to bunk out on the couch upstairs?” Debi laughed. “Nah, seven-thirty is fine. That's better than driving Ma'maw's clunker. I wasn't sure I'd get here this morning. I wish I could get her to sell that thing, or better yet, have it hauled off to the dump. I'll be glad to get mine out of the shop tomorrow."

After a last minute check, they turned out the lights and locked the front door.

"Do you want me to follow you home just in case?” Isabel asked.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's got a few more miles left in it. And I've got my cell if I get stranded."

Isabel nodded as they walked toward her car. “So, what do you think of Mick, other than his Columbo disguise?"

"He's okay."

"Uh-huh. Not buying it."

"Oh, all right. He's adorable, but he's not my type,” Debi said.

With a grin, Isabel asked, “And what would be your type?"

"Oh, tall, handsome, a little rough around the edges."

She stopped and placed her hand on her friend's arm. “I hate to break the news to you, Deb, but that sounds suspiciously like Mick Wise."

"Yeah, it does.” She sighed. “But it would never work. He and I are like oil and water. And that grim face of his. If he ever smiled, I think the world would stop spinning on its axis in shock."

They continued walking. “He's not that bad. I've seen him smile. And let me tell you, it's a smile to die for.” She fanned her face, feigning a near swoon.

"Oh, would you stop? I'm not looking for anyone right now. Too much other stuff going on."

"You're never looking for anyone. You avoid men like the plague.” Isabel took her hand and looked into her hazel-green eyes. “Sooner or later, you'll have to put what happened behind you. I know it's hard, I know the therapist said you'd find a way to deal with it, but Deb, you're not dealing with it. I saw the look on your face when I told you about my creepy admirer. You've shoved it neatly aside, and you're letting it run your life. I know you, remember? I know what you want, what you've wanted since we were kids. Don't let that bastard win."