Dangerous Relations (26 page)

"I'll be all right." She forced a smile. "I'll keep busy--go shopping or something."

"I don't know about shopping." He looked uneasy.

"I'll be careful, I promise," she said, and pushed him out the door. "Go make the stores
beautiful for opening day."

And then what would he do?
Up until a few days ago, Brett had been looking
forward to starting work on Frank's community of condos. It would have brought in good
money and been the first of many lucrative jobs in the region. She shivered as a chill
touched her heart. Maybe now he'd head back to Florida, where his brother had three
projects going.

She changed into khakis and a shirt, but then realized she had nothing to do--no briefs to
work on, no court cases awaiting her immediate attention. She called her office and was
disappointed to learn that Tom wasn't there. She asked for Margie, who had the office next to hers.
In her usual, fast-talking way, Margie filled her in on the office gossip, and asked when she was
coming back.

"Soon, I hope," Ardin said. "My Aunt Julia just died."

"On top of your cousin's murder? I am sorry, Ardin."

"And that's not the half of it." Ardin immediately regretted her words and hoped she
wouldn't ask for details.

Margie lowered her voice. "Hey, don't stay away too long. I've heard some grumbling from
up above."

"Oh, no! I'll try Tom again and tell him about Aunt Julia. I'll be back at work just as soon as I
can."

"Good girl," Margie said. "Gotta go."

Ardin called Julia's life insurance company and the law firm handling her estate. She
glanced at the clock. Only one. Leonie wouldn't be home for hours.

I have to get out of here!
She was jumpy and restless, the likes of which she
hadn't felt since she was a teenager. A long run would soothe her spirit and calm her
nerves, but the rain, which had begun as soon as they arrived home, made running an
impossibility.

When she went searching for the makings of a tuna sandwich, she noticed the refrigerator
looked empty. The pantry was sparsely filled, too. They were running low on everything. She hated
grocery shopping, but it was the least she could do to earn her bed and board. God, she was turning
into a suburban housekeeper before her very eyes.

The rain was coming down heavily when she arrived at the big supermarket adjacent to the
mall, so she decided to use the covered parking area. The department stores must have been
running sales, because every spot was taken. She drove down to the lower level, which was a good
distance from the supermarket. No matter. She'd stay dry, and the walk would be her exercise.

The supermarket was crowded. Ardin decided to buy everything that might appeal to
Leonie and Brett. Her mood improved with each item she tossed into the cart. Surely Leonie would
like macaroni and cheese. And applesauce. And maybe she'd buy that interesting Chinese marinade
and prepare the chicken dish on the label.

At one point she had the eerie feeling someone was watching her. She spun around, but
breathed easier when she saw herself surrounded by women, none of whom showed the slightest
interest in her. Still, after all that had occurred, she had to remain on guard.

She paid the whopping bill with her credit card and helped pack her purchases. When she
entered the fluorescent-lit garage, her footsteps were the only sounds she heard as she pushed the
cart down the shallow ramp leading to the lower area.

The lighting was dimmer down here. Anything could happen in this godforsaken
place. She trembled and pushed the cart faster
.

Stop scaring yourself. This is a public area. Someone will be coming along
soon.

Someone was. The footsteps behind her were reassuring, until they grew louder, faster,
and were accompanied by wheezing breaths. She looked over her shoulder.

A heavyset man came bearing down on her.

Terror froze her throat but not her legs. She abandoned the cart and sprinted ahead.

"Ardin! Ms. Wesley!" The voice rang out, hoarse and desperate.

Her breath came in gulps as she blindly turned right, then left. It whooshed out of her lungs
when she ran into the cement wall. A heavy hand settled on her shoulder.

She screamed, "Leave me alone!"

She grabbed her pocketbook strap and swung it at her assailant. The heavy purse struck
Marshall Crewe in the stomach.

He reeled back. For a moment he stood frozen, panting. "I didn't mean to frighten
you."

She caught her breath. "Well, you did a hell of a good job of it."

Facing him was less terrifying than being chased. His face was beet red, and he appeared
more apologetic than homicidal. Ardin pushed past him to retrieve her shopping cart.

He followed. "I saw you and had to tell you how sorry I am."

The fear and panic she'd felt a minute ago boiled up and turned to rage. If she were holding
a gun, she probably wouldn't hesitate to shoot. "Apologize? My aunt's dead because of you. We
buried her today."

Marshall Crewe cringed before her fury. "Ardin, you must believe me. I didn't set the house
on fire. I did knock you down, and for that I beg your pardon."

Dumbly, she nodded, suddenly depleted of all emotion. He was telling the truth. She read it
in his frightened, guilt-ridden expression.

"My sympathies for your loss." He reached out to touch her arm, apparently thought better
of it, and walked away.

* * * *

"If Crewe didn't set the fire, the murderer did." Brett let out a huge yawn.

He was thoroughly exhausted. He'd nearly fallen asleep reading Leonie her bedtime story,
and he still had to wade through the papers his lawyer had faxed him in the late afternoon. The
hearing was the following morning. He intended to be alert and prepared in order to convince the
judge he was the fitter of two parents.

Ardin stopped pacing, but kept her arms wrapped around herself. "And we're no closer to
finding out who he is, or why he wants me dead."

He gnawed at his lip. He was being selfish while Ardin feared for her life. Properly
concerned at last, not that he'd point that out. Still, Marshall Crewe was no more a likely murderer
than he was. He pushed himself to his feet.

"Why don't we go through the carton of Suziette's things?"

"I did that, remember?"

She looked so forlorn, he forced a big smile. "We'll check everything again. Maybe there's
something you and the police overlooked."

He brought the carton into the living room. Ardin removed each item, examined it, and
handed it to him. After looking it over carefully, he placed each one beside him on the floor. He paid
little attention to the mug and statuettes, but felt a jolt when she handed him an elaborate picture
frame holding his wedding photo. Quickly, he turned it over to open the back piece. He removed the
cardboard that held the photograph in place. Nothing.

Ardin did the same with the other picture frames. "Zilch."

He shook out each of Suziette's sneakers while she checked the pockets of the
cardigans.

"Only a tissue."

The raincoat lay at the bottom of the box. Ardin lifted it, and stuck her hand in each pocket.
"Nothing here but a hole."

"A hole? Let me see that."

He poked his finger through the tear, ripping it further to find what might have fallen to the
bottom of the lining. He was about to give up when he felt a small object. Even before he pulled it
out, he knew it was a well-folded piece of paper.

They took it into the kitchen and smoothed it flat on the table. On it were seven digits,
written in pencil.

"It's a local telephone number," he said.

"I wonder whose it can be."

Brett was pleased to note the color had returned to her face. He yawned again as fatigue hit
him full force. "We'll show it to Rabe tomorrow. He'll find out soon enough."

"I'll call him right now," Ardin said.

"Fine. I'm going to bed."

"Fine," she agreed too quickly.

He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. To make up for it, he said, "We have to be in court at
nine. May as well drive there together."

He watched as she wrestled with his offer--seeking an excuse to toss it back in his face yet
not wanting to make waves. Her desire for peace won out.

"Sure. See you at breakfast."

They faced each other across the kitchen table like strangers. Worse than strangers, Ardin
thought. Like former lovers forced to occupy the same room. Which, she realized with a start,
wasn't that far off the mark.

She felt wounded when Brett ignored her and started leafing through papers she knew
were from his lawyer. How ridiculous, when it was she who'd betrayed him in this matter. She
reached for her own set of notes and wondered if she'd been a fool not to hire an attorney. But it
was too late for second-guessing. She needed a clear head in order to present the best argument in
her favor.

In the garage, they climbed into the Jeep without speaking and buckled themselves in. As
they drove into town, she commented on the slow-moving traffic.

Brett agreed.

Brett's lawyer was waiting for him inside the courthouse. Lydia Forbes was tall, poised, and
a few years older than Ardin. While her narrow face could never be described as beautiful, her
creamy complexion and intelligent dark eyes were positively alluring.

Stop it!
Ardin ordered her runaway imagination. She shook Lydia's hand, and
nearly croaked when that hand tucked itself into the elbow of Brett's sports jacket. She
made a polite escape and headed straight for the ladies' room, where she gave herself a
much-needed lecture.

"You're acting like a jealous, lovesick kid. That woman's Brett's lawyer, for God's
sake, not his girlfriend. She's probably damned good at what she does, so get your act together
and concentrate on winning over the judge."

She smoothed the sides of her hair, which she'd put up in a French twist, and
tucked in the tails of her blouse. Satisfied with her appearance, she went up to Room
308.

Judge Dawson, a tall, spare, gray-haired man in his seventies, arrived on time. He took his
seat, and, after studying the papers his clerk had handed him, beckoned them to be seated. He
described Leonie's situation as he understood it be up until the time of Suziette's death, and then
asked if there were any more facts and issues to be considered that were relative to the case.

"Yes, Your Honor," Lydia said. "The child's grandmother's house was set on fire this past
Saturday night while Ms. Wesley was inside, and Mrs. Darling, who was in the hospital at the time,
died of a massive coronary Monday night."

"I see." The judge cleared his throat. "Did the child attend the funeral?"

"No, Your Honor," Ardin said. "Mr. Waterstone and I agreed it would be best if Leonie went
to nursery school as usual, to help give her life a sense of continuity."

"Rather difficult, considering what's been happening to her these past few weeks."

Ardin had to fight the irrational thought that the judge was laying Leonie's misfortunes at
her feet. This was precisely why lawyers hired lawyers. "She is nervous and upset, and comes into
my room in the middle of the night."

Judge Dawson eyed her keenly. "I understand you are now residing in Mr. Waterstone's
home. Again to give the child a sense of continuity."

"Yes, Your Honor."

Ardin looked down to hide the blush coloring her ears. Surely, the judge wasn't teasing her.
He couldn't possibly know anything had transpired between her and Brett.

His demeanor was solemn when he said, "The child has suffered serious emotional trauma
from events that have caused you both pain. My condolences to each of you for your losses. I would
like Leonie to be seen by a child psychologist for a complete evaluation. Please get the doctor's
name and number from my clerk on your way out."

Ardin nodded, as did Brett. The judge clasped his hands together and leaned forward. He
suddenly seemed like a kind, elderly neighbor rather than the stern arbitrator who held their fate in
his hands.

"Our situation is that two intelligent, caring adults seek the custody of Leonie Darling. You
both have excellent and--as I see it--equal claim to the child."

He gestured to Brett. "You, Mr. Waterstone, have been acting as Leonie's father in a most
generous manner. And you, Ms. Wesley..." His gaze fell on Ardin. "...are a concerned relative and the
mother's designated guardian, now that her first choice, Mrs. Darling, is deceased. It's obvious to me
that Leonie loves you both and would be happy with either of you. With both of you, if I may be
frank."

He squinted at Ardin. "I'm not very happy to hear that you would remove the child from
her environment. Would you consider making your home in Thornedale?"

Smart man. He'd zoomed right in on the difficult question.

Ardin cleared her throat. "My job and my home are in Manhattan. The city's a wonderful
place to raise children, much safer than it's been in years, and it offers all sorts of growth-inspiring
cultural experiences.

"And," she added quickly before the judge could comment, "I'd be happy to bring Leonie to
Thornedale on weekends to visit her friends and Mr. Waterstone."

Judge Dawson nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Wesley. As I said before, both you and Mr.
Waterstone have the child's best interests at heart. I have to give this issue serious consideration."
He winked. "Of course, it would solve my dilemma if the two of you were to marry and continued
caring for the child as you're doing now."

Ardin choked. Furtively, she glanced over to see how Brett was taking this suggestion. To
her amazement, he was grinning like a jack o'lantern.

"What about present custody, Your Honor?" Lydia said.

Judge Dawson said, "Ms. Wesley, are you planning to continue to reside at Mr. Waterstone's
house?"

Ardin wished a trapdoor would open up beneath her seat and remove her from the
courtroom. "I don't know, Your Honor. That depends on Mr. Waterstone."