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Jodie glanced at Irene and Sophie and read the determination in their eyes. It was going to be two against one, and it was their house. Reluctantly, she took the envelope from him just as Nadine arrived at the table.
“Your cappuccino will be right up, Jodie. Albert said to tell you he’s having a little trouble foaming the milk. And what can I get for you?” Fluttering her hands, Nadine aimed the question and her smile at Shane.
“A cappuccino sounds great. I haven’t indulged in one since I left California.”
“Ooh my, California. I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ll have to tell Albert we’ve got a connoisseur out here waiting to taste his cappuccino,” Nadine said before she hurried away.
“There’s only one letter in here,” Jodie said as she unfolded it.
“I can get more,” Shane replied easily.
Frowning, Jodie skimmed the paper. “The Kathy Dillon who signed it, is she the same Kathy who’s married to Sheriff Dillon?”
Shane nodded. “She’s a cousin. We haven’t quite pinned down whether it’s two or three times removed.”
“Well, then there’s no problem,” Irene said, patting her curls. “If Kathy Dillon can vouch for Shane, we won’t need those other references, will we, dear?”
Jodie stifled a sigh as Irene began to explain to Shane their plans for the house. She would call Kathy, but she knew the Rutherford sisters had won the battle. Battle? Why was she thinking of it in those terms. She glanced at Shane Sullivan again, wondering what it was about him that had made her feel so…what? Hot and cold, all at the same time? She couldn’t be…no, she really couldn’t be attracted to him. That was just not possible. Lightning could not possibly strike one person twice, at least not in the same year.
She was just suspicious of him. That’s what it was. Because he just didn’t look like a handyman—unless it was the kind of “handyman” a mafia boss might hire as a bodyguard.
“Is there some reason you’re staring at me?” Shane asked softly.
Jodie glanced quickly at Irene and Sophie, but they were heatedly debating the question of how many guest rooms they were eventually going to have.
“I wasn’t staring,” she said, leaning a little closer to him and keeping her voice low.
“It felt like staring to me,” Shane said.
“Who are you really?”
“Shane Sullivan. We were just introduced, weren’t we?”
“No one is really named Shane.”
“What was that, dear?” Irene asked.
“Nothing,” Jodie said, fixing a smile on her face as she turned her attention back to the sisters.
“Isn’t it time for you to get back to the library, dear?” Irene said. “Mr. Sullivan will be all settled in by the time you get home from work.”
Jodie glanced at her watch. She was due back at the college library in five minutes. Nadine arrived just as she rose and picked up her package.
“I brought your cappuccino to go,” Nadine said, handing her the lidded paper cup. “I know you’re never late.” Then she turned to present a foaming cup to Shane. “I hope it’s the way they make it in California.”
As Jodie made her way through Albert’s, she could hear Nadine’s laughter blend with that of the Rutherford sisters. So Shane Sullivan was a comedian as well as a…what? Whatever he was, she was sure he wasn’t a handyman. In the archway to the next room, she turned back. He was facing Irene and Sophie, and they were leaning forward, their attention riveted on him.
A strong sense of déjà vu moved through her and fear settled cold and hard in her stomach. Less than six months ago, she’d seen Irene and Sophie framed in the same window with their nephew Billy. When she’d come into the café, they’d waved to her to join them. That evening, they’d asked her to be their guest at the hotel for dinner. The rest had been history—one she didn’t care to repeat. Nor was she about to stand by and allow the Rutherford sisters to be taken in by another smooth-talking charmer.
A quick glance at her watch told her that she could either be on time for work, or she could stop by the sheriff’s office and ask him about his wife’s two-or-three-times-removed cousin. Once out on the street, she took the lid off her cup of cappuccino, inhaled the cinnamon, and took a long swallow. It might only be a baby step, but she was changing. Perhaps those foolish mottoes were working, after all. Either that or she was learning from her mistakes. Whatever it was, she was going to get to the truth about Shane Sullivan. Turning, she headed down the street toward the municipal building. No one could really be named Shane.
2
THE DOOR WITH Sheriff Dillon’s name on it stood open. Jodie paused, noting that the desk in the outer office was empty. That meant that his deputy, Mike Buckley, was either at lunch or working on a case.
“C’mon in. I’m here.” The voice came from the adjacent room and Jodie headed toward it. Mark Dillon, who’d been sheriff for as long as she could remember, was indeed in—deep in a book, as far as she could tell. His back was to her, his feet propped on a nearby window ledge. The moment she entered the room, he dog-eared his paperback with a grunt, swung his feet down and swiveled to face her. A smile spread slowly across his face as he waved her into a chair.
Sheriff Dillon hadn’t changed much from the first time she’d met him, except that his waist was a little thicker and his hair had started to thin. His smile was certainly the same, as was the shrewdness in his eyes. The kids at the college often underestimated him when they had the misfortune to cross his path, but he had a reputation for fairness among the students.
“I was going to stop by the library to talk to you.” His gaze dropped to his watch, then met hers. “Shouldn’t you be there right now?”
Good old predictable Jodie. The thought had her lifting her chin. “I’m going to be late. I doubt that the world will end.”
“No, I guess it won’t. I hear you had a prowler last night.”
It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought about the prowler once on her walk over. All she’d been thinking about was Shane Sullivan.
“And instead of reporting it,” Sheriff Dillon continued as he flipped his notebook open, “you decided to ask Hank Jefferson to sell you a gun.”
“Yes, I did.”
Mark Dillon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Buying a gun? That doesn’t sound like you, Jodie.”
“Well, maybe I’m tired of being like me! Do you have any idea what it was like to wake up and know that someone was in the house, walking around in the attic? I tried to call you and the phone wouldn’t work. Irene left the extension in the kitchen off the hook. She swears not, but—”
“What time did this happen?” Dillon asked, pulling his notebook closer.
“Shortly after midnight. I hadn’t been asleep for long.”
“And you heard something that woke you up?”
Jodie frowned. “No. Sophie said she heard a muffled crash. But I must have slept through that.”
Dillon nodded. “And then what?”
“I waited and listened. Then I heard floorboards creak in the attic. I was tracking the steps across the floor when Sophie and Irene opened my door. They were armed with fireplace pokers, and Sophie insisted we go up there. I couldn’t talk her out of it. I shouted up the stairs that we were armed, and luckily, by the time we got up there, he was out the window and halfway down that old elm tree.”
“Did you get a good look at him or her?” Dillon asked.
Jodie thought for a minute. “I’d say it was a him. He was tall and slender. We could see him run off toward the road.”
“Was he carrying anything?”
Jodie shook her head. “He had to use both hands getting down that tree.”
Dillon set his pencil down. “Don’t you have a dog out there? What was he doing during all this?”
“Lazarus?” The dog was a stray she’d found nearly dead by the side of the road. “I don’t know if he was ever much of a watchdog, but since Doc Cheney brought him back from the dead, nothing interrupts his beauty sleep—which is why I need a gun.”
Dillon closed his notebook. “A gun isn’t the answer. You don’t know how to use one, so the chances are pretty good that a prowler could overpower you, take the gun away, and after that…” He met her eyes directly as he let the sentence trail off. “On the other hand, I can’t do much besides send young Buckley out there to drive by every so often. Are any of those rooms in good enough shape yet to rent to a boarder?”
Jodie looked at him. “Funny you should suggest that. We’ve got a boarder, and that’s what I came to talk to you about. I want to know all about Shane Sullivan.”
“Shane? You’ve met him already?”
“Yes. Irene and Sophie introduced him to me after they’d already hired him on as a handyman and rented him the apartment over the garage. What do you know about him?”
“He’s a distant cousin of Kathy’s. He gave us a call a few days ago, said he was in the area. Seems he’s quit his corporate job, and he’s looking for a place to settle down. Kathy’s convinced him to give upstate New York a try.”
“So he came here at Christmas? Doesn’t he have a home or a family to spend the holidays with?”
“No,” Dillon said. “Evidently his job has been keeping him on the move. He’s never had a chance to settle down.”
“What kind of job?” Jodie asked.
“Some sort of consulting business. Took him all over the place.”
“Including California. He’s got Nadine Carter dreaming of beaches and movie stars and a new way to get out of Castleton.”
“I’m sure Shane can take care of himself,” Dillon said.
“I’m more worried about Nadine. And I’m curious as to why Mr. Sullivan has all of a sudden discovered this deep-rooted desire to become a handyman.”
“Kathy thinks it’s some kind of midlife crisis. You know, come to think of it, this arrangement could be the answer to your problems. Ours, too. We don’t really have room for him at the house with Kelly and David both home for the holidays. Shane must have realized that. And with a man living out there at Rutherford House, a prowler would have to think twice.”
Jodie met Dillon’s eyes squarely. “Pardon me, but the Rutherford sisters had a man living in their house six months ago, and thanks to him they lost their life savings!”
“I can vouch for the fact that Shane won’t be conning them out of any more of their money.”
“I’m not worried about their money. They don’t have any left. The problem is that they’re…he’s…” Pausing, Jodie searched for the right words. “It’s just that they seem to be every bit as charmed by him as they were by Billy, and I don’t want them taken in and…hurt again.”
“I see.” Dillon studied her for a moment. “As far as I know, there’s precious little anyone can do to protect people from being hurt. But if you want, I’ll speak to Shane, tell him to keep his distance.”
Jodie sat still, thinking. What had she expected him to do? From his point of view, having Shane move into the apartment over the garage must seem like the perfect solution. But it wasn’t. She was sure of it, as sure as…
“Has Billy tried to contact you?”
Jodie stared at the sheriff, surprised at the abrupt change of topic.
“Billy? No, I haven’t heard from him since he…since they took him back to New York for the arraignment.”
Dillon’s eyes shifted over her head to the doorway. “Shane, come on in. We were just talking about you.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
Jodie turned to see Shane filling the doorway to the office. He seemed larger than he had in the restaurant. Or perhaps it was just that the room seemed smaller because he was in it.
“Sit down. You might as well hear this since you’ll be moving into the Rutherford House.” Dillon paused until Shane had lowered himself into a chair. “Their nephew, who’s been charged with embezzlement, may pay them a visit. I got a call this morning from the NYPD. It seems that Billy has jumped bail. They wanted us to know in case he shows up here.”
Jodie concentrated very hard on keeping her expression neutral as thoughts swirled through her mind. Billy had jumped bail? Would he really come back to Castleton?
“When did this happen?” Shane asked.
“The private security firm hired by one of the banks claims they lost him sometime yesterday afternoon. They’re not sure where he’s headed. Seems he used a credit card to buy a plane ticket to Florida and a train ticket to Chicago. They’re still not sure which he took.”
“The Chicago train would bring him this way,” Jodie said.
Dillon nodded. “My deputy is checking at the Syracuse station.”
“Why would he come back here?” she asked.
“It’s almost Christmas, and Irene and Sophie are the only two relatives he has,” Dillon said. “And you and he were engaged.”
Jodie felt her hands tighten into fists. “Not anymore.”
Dillon cleared his throat. “There’s a third reason why Billy may show up here. The five million dollars he embezzled has never shown up. They traced it to a series of banks, and it was all withdrawn in cash before they were able to arrest him. There’s a chance, a slim one, that he hid it while he was here last summer.”
“Why would he do that?” Jodie asked.
“He’s familiar with the area, and he had over a month to consider the possibilities. What I’m thinking is that he might need some help getting to it, and you or Sophie or Irene might feel sorry for him. I don’t want you to do anything foolish like aid or abet a criminal. If Billy does try to contact you, I want you to let me know.”
Jodie looked from Dillon to Shane. “And in the meantime, Mr. Sullivan is supposed to spy on us and report back to you if we do anything suspicious?”
“Now, Jodie, that’s not what I—” The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted Dillon. Reaching for it, he punched a button. “Yes, Mindy Lou…. Calm down, I can’t hear you…. What? No, no, I don’t think you should call the fire department.”
“There’s a fire at the library?” Jodie asked. Mindy Lou had been her student assistant ever since Nadine had left.
Dillon shook his head. “No, Mindy Lou, you’ve called the right person. The fire department is made up of volunteers. I get paid to handle emergencies just like this one. And Jodie’s perfectly all right. She’s sitting in front of me right now. No, she doesn’t look depressed to me at all.” Pausing, he turned to Jodie. “Is that a rope you’ve got in your package?”
As Jodie nodded, she felt two bright spots of color stain her cheek. “For hauling a Christmas tree,” she explained.
Dillon’s eyes narrowed. “I drove past the house the other day, and I’m sure I saw one all lit up in the window.”
“We’re putting another one up in the dining room,” she said. If she told the lie often enough, she was going to start believing it herself.
As Dillon nodded and continued trying to calm Mindy Lou down, Jodie turned to meet Shane’s eyes. They were filled with laughter, as she’d known they would be. But it wasn’t the cold kind that you saw when someone was laughing at you. Instead, it was warm, just as it had been in Hank Jefferson’s store, and it made her feel that he was inviting her to share in a private joke. For a moment, the two of them could have been alone in the room, and she was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, close enough that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. And she did want to. More than that, she wanted him to touch her. The realization started a churning heat deep in her center.
Quickly she broke off eye contact with Shane, turning her attention back to the sheriff and forcing herself to listen to what he was saying.
“No, I’m sure she’s not going to hang herself.”
When Sheriff Dillon winked at her, she managed a smile. Every muscle in her face felt stiff.
“I can guarantee that she’ll be fine,” Dillon said. “She’ll be there shortly…. I don’t have any idea how a rumor like that got started.”
Jodie heard Shane swallow a chuckle, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she rose the moment that Dillon hung up the phone. “I’d better get back. I’m never late.”
“You’ll remember what I said,” Dillon said as she reached the door.
