A Country Gift Shop Collection: Three cosy crime novels that will keep you guessing!. Vivian Conroy

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      Still it was hard to decide what to say. How to prevent him from getting sucked into a whirlpool of emotions that might not lead to anything. Unless he had facts to go on. “I heard you asked Cash for the old police files.”

      “Yeah.” He cast her a look as if he wanted to know how come she had talked to Cash.

      But he didn’t ask. “He told me Perkins has them. I gave him a call, but his wife told me Perkins is out fishing with buddies. Won’t be back till after the weekend.”

      He laughed again, disparagingly this time. “After I’ve had that much time to think it over, will I still want to read those files? I have no idea what is in them about me. Or about other people. How it will open up that whole sordid business again. Accusations without foundation. Sometimes I’m too impulsive and dive in without thinking about the consequences. It might also harm Diane.”

      Vicky nodded. “Well, you two don’t have to take it up with Perkins once he is back. If you feel it was a mistake in the first place…”

      Michael took a deep breath. “It should be over. But just look at me, rushing out here to watch over Diane… While she doesn’t even want me to. It’s crazy.”

      He looked at her. “I’m sorry you saw me, Vicky. Please keep this to yourself.”

      “Of course I will.” She was almost indignant. What did he think of her, that she was some kind of gossip who’d go spread word around Glen Cove? “I never intended to tell anybody, not even if you hadn’t explained the situation to me. And now that you have…I’m just sorry for you, Michael, that it still hurts so much.”

      “It doesn’t hurt anymore like it used to. It just itches, because I don’t understand what kind of threat Celine was to anyone. Why did they have to come after her?”

      He perked up, tilting his head. “Are those sirens, in the distance?”

      Vicky halted to listen better. The waves roared below, there was the hum of traffic on the coastal road. “I’m not sure. Could be.”

      An image flashed through her mind: Diane’s lone figure on the deserted beach, running away from her. Michael had said that someone local was threatening her…

      With an effort she pushed the cold sensation away. Diane had her dog with her, a big one that was trained for protection. Nothing would happen to her.

      Michael pulled out his cell phone and checked it. “If something was up, I suppose they would call me. I can still change the Gazette’s front page until midnight.”

      “Sure, and I bet you work better on a full stomach. So why don’t you come along to my mother’s for a quick bite of lasagna? As soon as they call, you can leave. There’s enough for three, especially if I whip up a salad to go with it.” She was taking a risk here as Claire might display her aversion to Michael and it would be painful. But she didn’t want him to leave just yet.

      Michael’s tight shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “OK. But don’t go to any trouble for me. As long as it’s edible and hot, I’ll take it.”

Chapter Seven

      As they arrived at Claire’s cottage, the scent of spicy lasagna already wafted out of the window. Vicky had opened it a crack before her walk with the dogs. As she stepped in, she tilted her head. Was that Mom’s voice talking from the den? To the dogs who ran to greet her?

      No, a voice replied. A male voice.

      Surprised, Vicky walked into the living room. Everett Baker sat on the sofa with a plate full of lasagna on his knee, a napkin tucked into his shirt collar and a fork in his right hand. He flushed as he saw Vicky. He tried to rise, then thought better of it and stayed seated. “Good evening.”

      Mr. Pug waddled up to him and sat down on his left shoe, glancing up with big pleading eyes for some lasagna. The dog was drooling seriously, and Vicky snapped him up before it could get on Everett’s neat gray suit. “I’ll put the dogs in the pen in the kitchen, Mom, until we’re finished eating. Michael is here too, for a bite.”

      Claire frowned at her. “The lasagna stood too long and got sticky, I bet. I don’t know why these walks have to last forever, Vicky. The dogs look bushed.”

      Coco was indeed panting as if she had run the marathon, but Vicky knew Claire suspected her of having met Michael Danning by design and whiling away the time gazing into his deep brown eyes. But the unexpected visitor prevented her mother from being more explicit in her disapproval.

      “Well, when I got my share, it was perfect,” Everett said with satisfaction, checking his watch. “Of course it’s been half an hour since then. I recall the eight o’clock news was just about to start when I arrived.”

      “Oh, all that bad news, just depressing.” Claire waved a hand. “I’d rather talk about something interesting like the new houses they are building on the other side of town. I guess you are handling the sales?” She cast a look at Michael as if to ensure he was going to hear all about Everett’s success.

      “One moment, I’ll get our dinner.” Vicky quickly made for the kitchen. Everett not only handled all sales of property around these parts, but he could also talk about it forever. That and chess. He had been a county champion, who showed his trophies off at school. She had always been surprised he had never made grand master. That would have given him an awesome chance to travel. But his mother probably wouldn’t have let him. She had been known to guard her only son like a tigress. Poor Everett had never had a dime of his own to spend, as his mother controlled his allowance and decided what he could buy and do.

      Vicky bet he missed his mother though, who had passed away three years ago. That had to be the reason he stopped by every other week and spent an evening with Claire, playing checkers or backgammon. It was something so…social for a man as intensely businesslike as Everett. Out of character.

      But the company it provided for Claire had been very welcome when Vicky had lived abroad, and now that she was back, she’d simply have to put up with Everett’s fortnightly visits and his real estate successes.

      The phone against the wall rang, and Vicky went for it, but she was too late. Claire had already answered the cordless in the den. As it was her main source of information, she always had a phone within reach.

      Vicky could hear her say, “Really? When did they discover that?”

      Her mother’s voice sounded shocked. Could it have anything to do with the sirens they had heard earlier?

      The cold sensation returned full force and, forgetting that she wanted dinner, Vicky walked into the den to hear what was up. She glanced at Michael, who also seemed to sense some tension. He stared at Claire in concentration, listening to her answers to the caller on the other end of the line.

      “No, I had no idea. But I’ll turn on the television to see if any local station reports it later tonight. Thanks for calling.”

      Claire put the receiver down and looked at them, one by one, stretching the suspense before she shared her news. “There’s a big fire raging, at Perkins’ home. Seems his barn caught fire. The firefighters are keeping other properties wet to make sure it can’t spread. Perkins is out fishing, СКАЧАТЬ