Deadly Intentions (12 page)

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Authors: Candice Poarch

BOOK: Deadly Intentions
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“I don't have it. It's probably still in the house.”
“What the hell do you mean? I checked the house. It wasn't there.”
“I was just about to get it when everything happened.”
“If you're fucking with me I'll take it out on your hide,” he said angrily.
“It's the truth. After you killed that woman, I was so out of it all I could think about was getting out of there.”
Justin frowned, not knowing whether to believe the bitch or not. “Then why didn't you say so before?”
“I was mad as hell at you for killing that woman and getting me mixed up in murder. I'm in just as much trouble as you. I don't want to talk to you or see you again.”
“The woman wasn't supposed to be there. How many times do I have to tell you that? I need that fake bowl, too. I don't want it to look like a robbery and murder.”
“How do I know you won't murder me, too? I don't trust you anymore.” She slammed the phone in his ear.
“Bitch.”
He dialed her number again, but she ignored it. He seethed with frustration. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to find her—and deal with her.
Greg went to Paradise Island. As soon as he drove off the ferry and saw the signs advertising Founder's Day, he twisted his mouth in annoyance. Those Claxtons thought they owned the whole damn island. All of them were arrogant, but they were no better than he.
He had money. Loads of it, thanks to his brother.
He took his time driving around the island. Already, stands were being erected around the waterfront—as if it were some big deal.
The mayor's picture along with Naomi Claxton's was on a billboard. No big thing in Greg's estimation. His picture and his brother's weren't splashed anywhere and never would be. Nicholas wanted it that way. It was a small world and if Nicholas's picture even showed up, someone from his past life might recognize him.
Greg wondered why they'd settled in a heavy tourist area like Williamsburg. Even the queen of England had visited there. Regardless of how much the Claxtons touted the place, it was still a small town.
Greg smiled for the first time since he left the ferry.
The Claxtons won't have that bowl to showcase this year—not the way it had been the years before,
he thought with great satisfaction.
He didn't care how many people had to die before he got that bowl.
After work, Lisa took a short nap in Brian's motel room before she spent a few hours with her grandmother. Naomi wasn't feeling her best, but she was looking better.
“You didn't have to spend all this time with me,” Naomi said.
“Yes, I did. I want to.”
She smiled. “How is that young man of yours?”
“He's improving by the day.”
Gabrielle's mother from Philly was spending the night with Naomi. Lisa left around midnight and drove to Brian's.
Brian handed her a bouquet of flowers when she entered his room.
“Oh, it's so sweet of you to buy flowers for Grandma,” she said, beaming at him with appreciation.
“I do have flowers for her, but these are for you.”
Lisa had a hard time holding back tears. Flowers might be considered a small gesture, but when you rarely received them, they were a wonderful surprise.
“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat. He bought her flowers? She couldn't remember the last time someone had given her flowers.
“The flowers are to lift your spirits. But this . . .” He brought his hand from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Lisa. I'm a little late.”
“You didn't have to get me anything. I didn't expect a gift.”
“I wanted to get you something. A woman should have a special gift for her birthday.”
It was a beautiful vase. “It's perfect for the table in my foyer.”
“When I saw it, I knew you would like it.”
“Oh, Brian. Thank you.” Lisa gingerly placed the vase on the table. How did he know she'd find jewelry too personal and would have refused it? This was so thoughtful.
She turned and hugged Brian. When she leaned back he appeared embarrassed. “Thank you so much,” she said.
“Yeah, well.” He couldn't think of a single thing to say.
18
The last thing Justin wanted to do was search the house again. That night, yet again, he prepared himself to jog along the beach. The police tape had been removed. He started with warm-up exercises in clear view of the Knight property. He stretched, bent, and twisted for five minutes until he was sure there was no movement inside.
Several people passed by, but they were accustomed to seeing him warm up before he jogged. The old man who lived with his sister was walking her dog.
The police had found Mrs. Mable's death to be accidental drowning, so people were beginning to relax again. Everybody knew Mrs. Mable loved her dog and certainly wouldn't let him drown in the cruel ocean.
Using a small flashlight, he made his way inside and to the den, where he'd left Tootsie with the bowl the day of the robbery. They had just pinpointed it when they'd heard someone coming in the door and walking through the house. When the woman saw Justin coming down the hall, she ran for the back door. She'd had it open and was about to scream when he caught up with her.
Murder wasn't in the plan, but she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And she got a good look at him.
He'd studied the area—studied her pattern. She wasn't supposed to be there. It wasn't until later when he listened to neighbors talk that he discovered Knight's grandson was returning wounded from Afghanistan and Mrs. Woolsley was there to help him.
Justin shook his head. It was the little variables that screwed things up every time.
In the den, Justin beamed his light where he'd last seen the bowl. The space was empty. Empty. Of course, he expected that. He hadn't seen it there the last time he'd looked.
He searched the rest of the house, just in case someone had stored it away, but he didn't find the bowl anywhere—not even in the garage. He'd jogged by the house every night—at different times, of course—to see if anyone was staying there. No one had, so far. He half expected the old man to come back from Africa any time now.
He couldn't believe it. Tootsie had lied. Like a fool, he'd kept believing her. She had both bowls.
He heard a noise and froze before he fumbled to turn out the tiny light. This couldn't be happening two times in a row. Nobody had that kind of bad luck.
“I'm so glad Grandma's on the mend,” a female's voice said.
“Your grandmother's quite a lady,” a male voice responded.
Justin tiptoed behind the desk and crouched low.
“You're going to spend the night, aren't you?” the man asked.
“Then I'll have to take the first ferry back to the island.”
“I'll go with you. You still seem a little shaky to me.”
The woman chuckled. “You just want another night in my bed.”
“That, too. But that's not the only reason I want you with me.”
Silence greeted Justin.
They must be kissing,
he thought.
Get it over with already
. He was stuck there until they either went to sleep or left. He was hoping they'd leave for the island—soon.
“But we need to discuss the bowl.”
Justin's ears perked up. He heard footsteps and hoped they wouldn't go out of his hearing range, or enter his hiding place.
“Harriet's funeral is tomorrow. I should have a suit here somewhere. I haven't worn one in so long. . . .”
“Why don't you wear your uniform? You'll look nice in that.”
“Think so?”
“Life is so precarious,” the woman said. “Harriet died because a thief murdered her for a stupid bowl. Do you think I'm too obsessed with finding it, as obsessed as the thief?”
“You aren't committing murder to get it back. Maybe taking unorthodox measures, but there's nothing wrong with wanting to have what belongs to you returned.”
“How in the world are we going to find it now?”
“I'm puzzled because if the thief has it, why was my bag searched?”
“I don't think the bag was connected to the robbery. I think the bag was there and someone thought there might be money or something valuable in there. The car theft was probably a common thief.”
Good,
Justin thought.
You just keep thinking that.
“You missed the ferry,” Brian said an hour later.
Lisa looked at the clock. “You did that deliberately. And you know I don't want to stay in this house.”
“If it makes you feel better, we can go back to the motel.”
“It doesn't make sense to pay for a motel when you have this house, but the place needs a good cleaning and I feel a little spooked staying here.”
“You're still under contract.”
“Not since Harriet died. And I don't mix business with pleasure.”
“You had a business arrangement with my grandfather so it still holds. And now that the police tape is gone, you can fulfill your obligation. Besides, there's all that fingerprint powder to get rid of.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course. I don't like mess any more than the next person.”
“Then I'll schedule it in.” Lisa was thinking it was a good place to train Jackie. They could take their time and work any day she pleased.
A cell phone rang.
“Is that yours?” Brian asked.
“My ring is different. Must be yours.”
“I don't have one,” Brian said. “I have to get one.”
“Maybe it's Harriet's.”
They moved in the direction from which the sound came. Suddenly it stopped and there was the sound of breaking glass. Brian darted toward the den and got there in time to see someone picking himself up and sprinting down the beach.
“Call the police,” he hollered out as he exploded out the window behind the guy and fell on his bad leg, going down hard in the azaleas and cursing.
The man was tearing around the corner of the house before he could pick himself up.
Brian limped after him, but the guy was streaking far quicker than Brian's bum leg would allow him to go. Brian kept going. He wasn't giving up. In the distance he heard a motor start and a car drive away. A small car tore into a side street. Looked like a blue Mustang. From the streetlight he caught the last three digits of the license plate.
Brian stood there a couple of seconds to catch his breath before he started back to the house. No doubt Lisa would give him an earful. He smiled.
She was waiting by the door, peeping through the side windows.
“Are you crazy?” she asked, opening the door for him. “Running after that man like that. He could have killed you. What if he had a gun? It could've been the same man who killed Mrs. Woolsley.”
“More than likely it was.”
“And you ran after him anyway?” she snapped.
“I'm a SEAL, baby.”
“You're crazy.”
“Some might think so.”
They saw blinking lights pull up to the curb. A cop got out.
As soon as the police left, Lisa said, “I'm not staying here tonight.”
“I'll take you to the motel,” Brian said, “but I can't stay there.”
“It's not safe here,” Lisa said, even though she knew Brian wouldn't budge on that issue.
“I have to go by the motel anyway to check something out. I don't like the idea of you staying alone. Remember someone followed you the other night.”
Lisa didn't know why he had to go there if he wasn't going to stay.
She drove to the motel, but she had no intentions of leaving him. What if the killer saw her and came after her? Even lame, he was her only protection off the island.
“I want my money,” the man said. “I've waited long enough.”
“I don't have the bowl yet,” Greg told him. “No bowl, no payoff.”
“The deal was I get paid if I give you the location of the bowl. I've done my part. You should have hired more competent people. Nobody was supposed to die. I want my money or I'm going to the police.”
“You're threatening me?”
“Yes. Remember I know who you are, but you don't know who I am.”
“You're easy enough to find,” Greg said, threateningly.
The caller hung up, regretting the decision to contact him in the first place. The hand that tucked the phone in the pocket trembled slightly. How was this going to end? He couldn't see a good ending to this at all. When he decided to move in this direction more than a year ago, he had no idea this would be the outcome. That the entire thing would get so convoluted. He felt like he was working with a bunch of bumbling fools.
He glanced at his partner in crime. “I don't know if it's been worth all this.”
“They were fools. You aren't responsible for their actions.”
“But we started it,” he said.
“We didn't kill anyone. We didn't ask them to kill anyone. Don't take responsibility for something you didn't do.”
“That doesn't change what they did. It shouldn't have taken this long.”
“Look, I'm not taking on another worry. Everybody else is enjoying their lives. Nice homes. Great family vacations. We're not asking for anything out of the ordinary. It's only fair that we have a little something for ourselves, too.
“This is our ship and I'm taking advantage of it. 'Cause it might not come our way again. And that bowl isn't going to do anybody any good getting dusted off once a year to parade before a bunch of strangers coming through town. Tell me what good it's doing anybody, especially when that family has an identical bowl they can enjoy just as much as that one.”
“You're right.”

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