Flash (30 page)

Olivia caught the shadowy movement midway up the steps out of the corner of her eye. The light from the stairwell window revealed a figure hovering there. He held a large, heavy-looking object in his upraised hands.

“Jasper.”

He was already in motion, shoving her hard to the side. She fetched up against the wall with enough force to make her gasp.

She watched helplessly as Jasper launched himself at the figure on the stairs. The two collided with a heavy, dull thud halfway up the steps.

There was a solid crunch as the object in the prowler's hands flew over the side of the banister and struck the floor.

Olivia scrambled out of the way as Jasper and the prowler tumbled down the steps. She caught a glimpse
of a face with distorted, deformed features. Muttered grunts were followed by a muffled gasp.

Frantically she looked around, searching for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. The large object the prowler had attempted to smash into Jasper's head lay on the floor.

She seized it in both hands and discovered that she was holding a heavy brass planter. She hefted it and then realized to her horror that it was not going to be a simple matter to get a clear shot at the prowler.

Jasper and his opponent shifted positions in the blink of an eye, rolling together across the floor and into the living room. Olivia followed, planter held on high.

It was obvious that Jasper's opponent was bent only on escape. He heaved himself upward, struggling to free himself. Jasper made a wild grab for the back of the man's jacket. The prowler wrenched first one arm and then the other free of the garment and lurched toward the kitchen.

Footsteps pounded on the vinyl floor.

Jasper rolled to his feet, the windbreaker still clutched in his hand. He flung it aside and started toward the kitchen at a dead run. The light from the street gleamed briefly on his face. Olivia saw the mask of intent ferocity etched there.

She ran after him. “Jasper, forget it. You'll never catch him now.”

She collided with him on the back step, where he had come to an abrupt halt. There was a jolting thud. Jasper staggered and nearly went down.

“What the hell?” He caught his balance and put a hand to his ribs. He turned to peer at the heavy brass
planter she clutched. “I hope the plan was to use that thing on the other guy.”

“Of course it was. But you kept getting in the way.” Chagrined, Olivia took two steps back into the kitchen and put the planter down on the nearest counter. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

She saw him touch the corner of his mouth with an absentminded gesture as he surveyed the darkened backyard. She was about to pin him down on the subject of personal injury when she heard the first bark.

It was followed by several more in quick succession. She had a sudden vision of the prowler arousing every golden retriever and shih tzu in the neighborhood as he escaped through a series of backyards.

“We'd better get out of here,” she said.

“Hang on.” He went past her up the steps and into the kitchen.

“Hurry,” she whispered when she saw him disappear into the living room.

She cringed when she heard him go swiftly up the stairs. She knew he was checking the rooms above.

After what seemed forever but was probably no more than a couple of minutes, he returned. He had the prowler's windbreaker in his hand. He used it to wipe off the planter. She realized he was removing her fingerprints.

“Let's go,” he said when he finished.

He followed her back out onto the step and closed the kitchen door quietly. They went cautiously around to the front of the house. Olivia was relieved to see that no lights had appeared in any of the windows in
the neighboring houses. The dog had stopped barking.

When they reached the sidewalk, she had to fight the impulse to break into a run. She made herself match Jasper's sedate but purposeful pace. They clung to the shadows of the trees that lined the street.

She did not draw a deep breath until they rounded the corner and saw her car sitting right where they had left it earlier.

She did not see the blood on Jasper's mouth until she slid into the passenger seat.

“You're hurt.” She was suddenly incensed. “You told me you were okay.”

“Take it easy.” Jasper closed the door, cutting off the light and her view of the blood. “I just sliced the inside of my mouth up a little. It won't show in the morning.”

She could have sworn that she saw him wince when he switched on the ignition.

“I'm not worried about how it will look,” she said crisply. “I'm concerned about how much damage has been done.”

He glanced at her as he pulled away from the curb. “I appreciate that.”

His blasé attitude fueled her ire. She opened the glove box, found the small pack of tissues she kept inside, and yanked one out. She handed it to Jasper without a word.

“Thank you.”

There was a short silence as he wiped the blood off his chin.

“He could have had a gun,” Olivia said finally.

“Yeah.”

“You could have been killed.”

“I don't think he was any more of an expert at that kind of thing than we are.”

She recalled the quick glimpse she'd had of distorted features. “He was enough of an expert to wear a mask made out of half a pair of pantyhose.”

“He could have picked up that handy burglary tip by watching television,” Jasper said. “I don't think it qualifies him as a pro.”

A beat of silence passed.

“He could have been the hit-and-run driver who killed Melwood,” Olivia said.

“Could have been.” Jasper sounded thoughtful now. “Hit-and-run doesn't seem like a real professional way to murder someone. Too uncertain. The victim might survive.”

“Even if he did, he would be seriously injured,” Olivia said. “And very likely confined to a hospital for a few days, which would give whoever had tried to murder him some breathing room.”

“Good point. But either way, I think we can assume we're not dealing with a professional hit man.”

“I guess a real pro wouldn't have left his wind-breaker behind.” She picked up the black microfiber jacket that Jasper had tossed down onto the seat.

Jasper gave it a sidelong look. “I don't suppose there's anything useful in the pockets?”

“No. They're empty.” She leaned forward and held the inside of the collar in the dash lights. The label was decorated with the logo of a familiar New York designer. “Whoever he is, he likes expensive clothes.” She sat back. “So what was he doing there?”

“Two options spring to mind,” Jasper said. “Either we
ran into the local neighborhood prowler looking for a stereo and a VCR he could fence for drug money or—”

“Or else he was there for the same reason we were,” she concluded unhappily. “Looking for a blackmailer's files.”

“That about sums it up as far as I can see.”

“Good grief. I wonder how many people Melwood Gill was blackmailing?”

“We won't know the answer to that until we find those damned files of Rollie's.” Jasper slowed for a red light. “But I think we can assume one thing.”

She looked at him. “What's that?”

“The other guy had more time to look around inside Gill's house than we did. The upstairs was torn apart. But whoever I tangled with on those stairs wasn't carrying anything except that brass planter. I don't think he found whatever it was he was looking for.”

“In other words, Uncle Rollie's files are still missing.”

“Yes.”

“But the blackmailer is dead. Surely that takes some of the pressure off all of us.”

Jasper shook his head once. “This thing won't be over until we find those files.”

Fifteen minutes later, stripped to the waist, Jasper leaned over the sink in Olivia's tiled bath. He splashed more cold water on his face, rinsing off the last traces of blood.

When he was finished, he raised his head and studied his reflection in the mirror. His mouth was not a pretty sight, and he knew he would have a few bruises on his ribs from the stairs, but all in all, not too bad.
With luck, the swollen lip would return to its normal size and shape by morning. He would have to be careful about what he ate for a couple of days, but he would not cause any undue comment in the office.

“What's the verdict?” Olivia asked as she walked back into the bathroom with the roll of paper towels he had ordered.

“The good news is, no black eye in the morning. With luck, I won't have any explaining to do.” He ripped off one of the towels and used it to dry his face. “And I didn't even get any blood on your nice white towels.”

“I told you not to worry about the towels.” She put the roll of paper towels down on the counter. “Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yeah.” He wadded up the used towel and tossed it into the waste can. “I'm okay.”

She opened the mirrored medicine cabinet and took out a small bottle. “Let me put some of this on your lip.”

He eyed the bottle warily. “What is it?”

“Antiseptic.” She already had a small ball of cotton in hand and was dampening it with the contents of the bottle.

He grimaced when she dabbed his lip. He was proud of the fact that he managed not to say ouch.

Olivia stepped back and recapped the bottle. She eyed his chest and ribs with an expression of deep concern. Then she made a twirling motion with her hand.

“Turn around.”

“Why?”

“I want to see if I did any serious damage with that planter.”

He started to grin and then winced when the burning sensation lanced his lower lip. “Don't worry about it. You didn't hit me that hard. I may have a few bruises on my ribs tomorrow, but not because of that damned planter.” He reached for his shirt. “It's only a few minutes after one. If I hurry, I can still make the last ferry.”

“No.”

He paused, one arm in one sleeve. “What?”

She watched him with her deep, luminous eyes. Then she gently touched the side of his face. “You were in a fight tonight. There may have been more damage than you realize.”

He raised his brows. “I doubt it. Like I said, a few bruises…”

“I don't think you should go all the way back to Bainbridge tonight.” Her gaze was very steady. “You could be suffering from shock and not realize it yet.”

“Trust me, I'm not in shock.”

“I really wish you would stay here where I can keep an eye on you.”

He realized that something very important, something that could well turn out to be momentous, was happening. Don't read too much into the situation, he warned himself. Don't say too much, you'll screw it up.

He cleared his throat cautiously. “You could be right. I, uh, think maybe I am in shock.”

Her brows knit together above the frames of her glasses. “Do you think you should go to the emergency room?”

“No.” He eased his arm very carefully back out of the sleeve. “I think I should go to bed. And so should
you. You're the one who has to spend all day tomorrow preparing for the Camelot Blue event.”

“Don't remind me.” She smiled, apparently satisfied with his decision. “I'll let you finish here in the bathroom. Take your time.”

He held his breath as she quietly closed the door behind her. Then he turned to his reflection in the mirror. Don't get the wrong idea just because her nurturing instincts got the better of her tonight, he told himself.

But when he climbed into the pale mint-green sheets a short time later he was still focused on a lot of wrong ideas. Or were they the right ones? he wondered.

He listened to Olivia moving about in the bathroom. After a while she turned off the lights and walked into the darkened bedroom. A white cotton gown drifted around her thighs. He decided that she looked sexier in it than a centerfold model looked in lingerie from Fredericks of Hollywood.

She went to the windows and pulled the curtains open. The jeweled lights of the city glowed behind her as she came to the bed.

Jasper was violently aware of his erection. What the hell was his problem tonight, he thought. It was not as if they had not already made love on more than one occasion. So what if he would be spending the night this time?

But he could not escape the feeling that what was happening between himself and Olivia this evening was fraught with meaning.

He just wished very badly that he knew what that meaning was.

Her scent clouded his brain when she climbed into bed beside him. She leaned over him and brushed her mouth across his.

“You're sure you're all right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He ignored the dull ache in his ribs and reached for her.

“We both need our sleep.” She eased gently away and settled herself on her side, giving him her back. “Wake me if you get worried about your ribs.”

“I'll do that.”

Between his erection, his bruises, and the fraught-with-meaning thing, he knew he could look forward to a very long night.

He savored the warm pleasure of having Olivia's body close to his and forced himself to concentrate on the problem of the missing blackmail files.

But for some unfathomable reason, it was the memory of his close call on the Pelapili cliffs that tugged at him. He had been luckier than Gill, he reflected. He had managed to evade the vehicle that had tried to run him off the road.

It was only a coincidence that the weapon of choice in both instances was a car. It had to be a coincidence. What possible link could there be between the two events?

The search for an answer kept him awake for a long time. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep

Somewhere in his dreams he found himself walking down endless corridors of self-storage lockers.