Deadly Intentions (22 page)

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Authors: Candice Poarch

BOOK: Deadly Intentions
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Sometimes Deana wondered why Nicholas had married
her
. He certainly didn't love her. Nor did she love him. They had a polite arrangement with nothing in common. She just knew he had sex with that whore of a secretary right on their property—right under her nose.
His property
because he certainly hadn't put her name on the deed. He'd insisted on a prenup agreement. She would get a little something if the marriage fell apart, but the bulk of his estate was targeted for Greg. Although the jewels he'd given her cost enough to buy a few homes. He was ostentatious. He liked to flaunt his wealth by having her dress elegantly and richly in jewels.
She wondered what Nicholas would do about his estate now.
She should leave him. Ask him for a divorce, but he'd put her parents out of their home and she couldn't do that. They were too old to start their lives over.
She tolerated Nicholas. Tried to be the dutiful wife.
Sighing, Deana parked her car on the ferry, got out, and went to the railing.
She suspected Greg was intentionally creepy. Always watching and studying. And his choice of career didn't help matters. On the few occasions he joined them for meals, he'd talk about his work in gory detail. Took Deana's appetite, but Nicholas listened raptly like a doting father. Nicholas was that way. He listened to her with polite interest. The difference was he humored her while he truly enjoyed Greg's company. His brother walked on water as far as Nicholas was concerned.
Greg was the only person who could shake his brother's unflappable calm.
The ferry drew up to the dock and Deana went back to her car and started the motor. She disembarked with the rest of the crowd and headed to the B and B. She hadn't cancelled her reservations, so her room should still be available.
The traffic was thick and took three times longer than usual. Ten minutes later, Deana approached the reservation desk. After Gabrielle's polite greeting, she said. “It's so good to be back. You're holding a room for me? Deana Doyle.”
Gabrielle's smile faltered. “Your husband has already checked in.”
Deana kept her smile, but felt like cursing. “He made it after all. When we spoke yesterday, he wasn't sure if he could get his business tied up in time. I'm pleased he did.”
Gabrielle nodded uneasily.
Deana fished out her driver's license and presented it. “I made the reservations in both our names. I'm eager to get to the festivities. I admired several of the artists' works last year.”
“Of course,” Gabrielle said, handing over the key. “Will you need help with your luggage?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Gabrielle signaled for someone to help her.
Deana hoped Nicholas had the good sense not to bring that slut, his secretary, to her favorite B and B. If he thought he was mourning now, she'd really give him something to mourn about. She tried to be an accommodating wife, but she had her limits.
When she made it to their room, she was pleased that only his things were there. And only enough for one night. So maybe he came here to unwind, after all.
35
Harper had sent Nicholas Doyle's name through the FBI database a while ago. He searched for a response. None had come. He got a cup of coffee.
“I'm going to call Gabrielle and see if Doyle reserved a room in the B and B,” Alyssa said.
“He'd be in disguise.”
“This is a small town. He could think we're a bunch of country bumpkins. If he doesn't know about Magdelena, then he doesn't know we're aware of his intentions or that he killed Justin.”
Harper shrugged. “Wouldn't hurt.”
Three minutes later Alyssa rushed into the room. “He checked into the B and B earlier this morning. His wife checked in an hour after he did.”
Coffee forgotten, Harper pushed his chair back from his desk. He called the judge for a search warrant.
“You go to the B and B in case he returns. I'll wait for the search warrant,” he said.
Alyssa nodded.
“We need fingerprints.”
Traffic was thick and even driving on the shoulders part of the way, it still took Alyssa twenty minutes for a five-minute drive.
Doyle and his wife could be anywhere now,
Alyssa thought when she entered the building.
Gabrielle met her at the door. For a change the place was empty and quiet. The guests were all at the festival.
“Has anyone been in the room since they arrived?” she asked.
Gabrielle shook her head. “No. I don't think his wife knew he was coming here.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She seemed surprised he was here.”
Lisa took the slingshot from the council member's son who was sitting between his mother and her. She was as bored as the little boy, but in a minute he was going to let his weapon fly and no telling who'd be his target.
She harrumphed a couple of times in an attempt to curtail the mayor's long-winded speech. He ignored her. Naomi wasn't there and, for once, he was having his say—for as long as he wanted—even if he was losing the crowd.
Lisa harrumphed again and he continued to drone on. It wasn't even an election year. People were beginning to edge away and she hadn't even given her short speech yet.
There was a long-running battle between the mayor and Naomi. She considered Founder's Day her day, not the mayor's. As a duly elected politician, the mayor considered the town his. But nobody took control over Naomi. She had only to threaten to run for his position once for him to ease off.
What to do? Lisa was in a quandary. The little boy squirmed beside her, looking at her, obviously desiring the return of his prized toy. Lisa reached for his small hand, placed the object in position, pointed it toward the mayor, and let it fly—straight into his back. The boy squealed. Yeah!
His mother whispered the boy's name in dismay.
The mayor's back straightened and he stumbled over a word. Having lost his momentum, Lisa flew to the podium and bumped him aside.
Amused laughter tittered in the audience.
“Thank you for that enlightening speech, Mayor. Now we'll move forward in our program so that you can all begin to enjoy the festivities,” Lisa announced, and launched into her short speech. It briefly detailed the island's history and the activities scheduled. She noticed people had stopped leaving to listen. She added a little humor to it.
She finished with, “And for your enjoyment, for the first time in many years, both of the golden bowls are on display in our historical booth. Please stop by to look at them or ask questions about our island's history. Enjoy your day.”
The competitions would start at noon, so people would try to hit as many booths as they could before then. Lisa started to rush off to her booth when she was waylaid by the mayor.
“That was very rude, young lady.” His face was red with anger.
“I'm so sorry. Kids get bored very easily,” Lisa said. “But your time was up. Gotta go. I'm on duty at the booth.” Brian had a golf cart waiting and as soon as Lisa sat, he put it into gear and drove off. So many people blocked the path that they were on constant stop-and-go along the entire route to the booth.
Harper sent a message to the entire police force to bring Judge Boston, who was at the festivities, to the office.
“Harper, what's the meaning of this? I'm a judge in one of the competitions,” he said.
“I think we have a killer for hire staying at the B and B. I need a search warrant to take fingerprints and check his room.”
As soon as he could get the proper paperwork, Harper joined Alyssa at the B and B.
They took several fingerprints and sent them through the database. Truth was, some were of the housekeeper and others could be from guests who'd stayed there previously.
The search through the database didn't take long. There was an urgent blink on one—which noted the person was dangerous and wanted. Harper was sure that was the fingerprint for Nicholas Doyle.
He called the local FBI office.
The golden bowls were in unbreakable glass cases nailed to the floor. Lisa rather enjoyed talking about her family's background and explaining the history of the bowls. Two guards were posted and Brian stayed more in the background observing the crowd.
An elderly man approached them. “What beautiful bowls,” he said. “This is my first visit to your island. I found the historical information you gave this morning very interesting.”
Lisa needed little encouragement to offer her spiel.
There was something about that man that didn't ring true, Brian thought. But then, he'd seen all kinds. Regular folks, gays wearing makeup, divas, older couples, everyday people, everyone. There was no such thing as “normal” anymore.
This guy was wearing makeup, too. It was expensive, barely detectable, but maybe he had a bad skin condition. His eyes seemed younger than his wrinkled neck and face, but you never could tell how people aged.
Brian stifled a chuckle. Lisa had a few hundred brochures of her cleaning business prominently displayed.
Brian watched everything, as thousands of people passed through, most of them here just for the day. Expressions on faces. Hands digging into hip pockets or breast pockets. Anything to indicate someone was going for a weapon—or a spotter in the distance.
The officers were out in full force, but it was still a small department for a crowd of this magnitude, especially when you were expecting trouble. Even state troopers had been brought in. He'd seen Alyssa pass by several times, as well as other officers. Everybody connected with the force, even the volunteer police officers, was on board.
Unfortunately, he barely watched Lisa although he listened to her soothing voice. He had to make plans. He wouldn't know for some time what would happen with his career, but he wasn't one of the loafers she was accustomed to. He was thirty and an officer. He'd been in the Navy for twelve years. He still had the money that came to him from his dad's estate. He wasn't high maintenance and never spent a dime of it—never had anything worthy to spend it on. Besides, from the time he entered the Navy, he'd always had a portion of his check earmarked for savings. Even without his inheritance, he'd done well for himself.
He planned to retire in eight years, but he didn't want to wait that long to marry and have children. His kids wouldn't grow up alone like he did. They'd have each other and a zillion cousins to boot—if Lisa consented to marry him. He could see them standing on the chair in Naomi Claxton's kitchen with her teaching them how to cook in that soothing voice. Could picture her warm hands soothing boo-boos. They'd never be alone in the Claxtons' big loving family.
At one point there was a lull. Brian was a soldier. He wasn't much for soppy emotions. “I've got some money saved up,” he said to Lisa. His gaze was still focused on the crowd.
Lisa glanced at him. “That's nice.”
“I mean enough so that we could pay off your mortgage and expand the house if you want to. I wonder if it's too late to start a late garden.”
“I'm not shacking up. Don't get any ideas just because I let you stay at my house for a few nights. You don't live there.”
“I . . .”
A visitor approached, interrupting their conversation. Brian stifled a sigh of frustration.
He could see by the set of Lisa's shoulders that he'd made her angry. He sighed again. Wrong place, wrong time. Whenever his emotions got involved, his words always got tangled up. He could give a brief without a stumble, but when it came to emotions, to love . . .
Brian shot up as erect as if he were holding the flag before the president.
He loved Lisa. That's the truth of it. He'd been skirting around his feelings for ages, telling himself they'd make the perfect pair because they were compatible, noting that she was a strong woman, even though she didn't think so. Thinking she could handle the military lifestyle. And that he wanted to come home to her after his tours.
He hadn't considered that it could be
love
.
Love didn't enter into the equation with his family. His mother always said she married for love, but that love always fizzled out quickly. Claxtons married for life. Might take him a while to convince her, but once he did . . .
My God. She'd be his forever.
Nicholas had spotted every cop at the fair. They stood out like neon lights. He chuckled. And they thought they could keep him from doing anything he had a mind to do. He could kill anyone he wanted to at this point and be long gone before they were aware of what was going on. Not even the horse Alyssa rode would help.
“That's a beautiful bowl,” a familiar voice said, snapping Nicholas from his musings and toward the voice. What the heck was Deana doing here? She was supposed to be home waiting for him to return.
Angrily, Nicholas eased back into the crowd. He didn't think even she would recognize him in his getup, but he couldn't take chances. Wives noticed little nuances others didn't. It could be something as simple as the way he moved a hand or his walk.
He'd have to wait until dark. She'd be back in the room by then—he hoped. He got a grip on his patience. Now he had to watch out for her, make sure she wasn't around when he made his move.
Worse, he had to return to the B and B and spend the night in the room with her. Make small talk. He didn't have a plausible excuse not to.
Nicholas sighed. She always asked questions. He'd have to explain why he'd come here without her. But that was easy enough to answer. He needed to get away and grieve alone.

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