Read Death By A Dark Horse Page 10

Chapter Ten

  Considering how little time had passed since everyone seemed so concerned with my well-being, no one seemed to notice I was a bit late for pre-dinner cocktails. But, considering I was in self-sufficient mode that was fine with me. A quiet evening with no drama would go a long way toward getting me back to feeling in control. Juliet and Eric were in the living room with Uncle Henry and Aunt Vi. Their laughter -- mostly Juliet's -- made the scene seem almost normal.

  "Blackie's doing fine," Uncle Henry said as I walked in. He handed me a glass of white wine.

  "I just checked on him. Thanks. He certainly seems like his normal self."

  "Did you find out what was wrong with Blackie?" Eric asked. I turned to answer him and he grimaced catching sight of my lovely bruises. "Ouch."

  "Whoa, Thea! What happened to your face?" Juliet shoved her wine glass into Eric's hand and sprinted across the room to get a better look.

  "Greg did that," Aunt Vi said, all lightness gone from her voice.

  My sister and her boyfriend looked shocked.

  "Why?" Juliet examined my face closely.

  Aunt Vi jumped in before I could draw a breath. "Because he wanted to hurt Blackie and your sister wouldn't tell him where he was." She proceeded to relate the story, but with her own twist, saying that although she didn't know it at the time Blackie's odd behavior meant I was in trouble and needed help. The moment she sent Paul to me, my horse knew I'd be fine and settled down. Therefore, Blackie was the reason they weren't all visiting me in the hospital tonight.

  "Wow," Juliet said. "I've heard of dogs having a psychic connection to their owners, but never a horse. How cool."

  Eric caught my eye and raised an eyebrow. I studied the ceiling. The exchange didn't escape my aunt.

  "All right for you, missy," she huffed in a proper British manner. "But I'll be the one saying I told you so."

  I sipped my wine and laughed. "If we find out you're right, Aunt Vi, I'll buy you a new set of Tarot cards."

  "Humph," she said, and disappeared into the kitchen, chin in the air.

  Once we sat down to dinner the conversation returned to my encounter with Greg.

  "So what happened? Greg knocked on your door and then what?" Juliet handed me the burden of the conversation along with the gravy boat. Unfortunately, the gravy boat was easier to pass along.

  I related brief details, but they only seemed to intensify Juliet's interest, so I cleverly segued into Thurman's news clearing Blackie of fault in Valerie's death.

  "You must have been sobbing with relief," she said.

  "Well, no, not sobbing."

  "Then dancing in the hall."

  "No."

  "Ha. I'll bet you threw your arms around that detective and kissed him."

  "Hardly. Not when the next words out of his mouth were telling me I was a person of interest." Whoops.

  Jaws dropped and eyes bugged around the table. Aunt Vi found her voice first.

  "Theodora! You said nothing of this earlier!"

  I stammered an incoherent string of "uhs" and "buts."

  "You?" Juliet burst out laughing and fell into Eric. Aunt Vi reached over and smacked her shoulder. "Ow!"

  Uncle Henry jumped in. "Thea, why didn't you --"

  "I got the name of an attorney from Jonathan," I spewed. "But I really don't think I'll need him."

  "Let's hope you don't," he finished.

  "I can't believe anyone could think my sister --"

  "Why do they think you were involved? Because she took your horse?" Eric cut off a still-guffawing Juliet. He laid his arm across the back of my sister's chair and tapped her shoulder with his fingertips. She glanced at him and he shushed her.

  "Just because Blackie was at her farm doesn't mean she was the one who took him," Uncle Henry said sharply.

  Eric ignored my uncle's remark and squeezed Juliet's shoulder before picking up his knife and fork again. Evidently he thought she would keep her mouth shut. Foolish man.

  "Are they going to arrest you?" Juliet asked, with a touch too much enthusiasm.

  Eric's shoulders sagged.

  "Is this attorney any good?" Aunt Vi's cheeks flushed pink with anxiety. "It's time to call your parents --"

  "No, please --"

  "You mean you haven't told Mother and Dad?" Juliet thumped Eric's arm and whooped.

  "You should call your parents," Eric said, then shot an annoyed look at Juliet.

  "No! I'm not calling them."

  "Why didn't you mention this earlier?" Aunt Vi sounded hurt.

  Guilt gave me a good slap.

  "Well, after Andrea called and Valerie's father stopped by …." My excuse trailed off into silence. "I guess I neglected to mention I had a visit this afternoon from Valerie's father, too."

  Everyone, including my sister, stared at me with identical, anxious expressions.

  "I guess you did," Aunt Vi said, weakly. "What did he want?"

  Uncle Henry and Eric exchanged quick glances. They both sat up straighter.

  "Not much." I tried to downplay my blunder. "He asked me what I knew about Blackie being stolen."

  "He probably wanted to size you up to see if you were capable of killing Valerie," Juliet said, then looked around the table. "What? I heard he's a scary guy. So," she turned to me with an eager spark in her eye. "What'd he say?"

  I glossed over our brief conversation and didn't mention the big guy in the dark glasses.

  "I hate to say it," Eric said, with a glance at my sister. "But Juliet's probably right."

  "What do you mean, 'I hate to say it'?" Juliet snapped back.

  "I mean," Eric said patiently, "sizing her up is probably what he was doing, and it makes me nervous." He added a smile.

  "Oh," she said. "All he'd have to do is take one look at Thea to realize how harmless she is."

  "I look harmless?" Her observation was a good ninety degrees out of line with the new me.

  "Totally," she said. "You look like a strong breeze could knock you down."

  "I do not."

  "Do so. You've got this 'I'm so delicate' thing going on, with the cute little haircut and the big green eyes." She batted her gray eyes at me. "And you're short."

  "I am not. Why does everyone think I'm short? I'm a good five-foot-two. And what's wrong with my haircut?"

  "Well, excuse me, Xena, Warrior Princess, you're well off the national average. Besides, if Valerie's dad was checking you out, you'd better be frickin' glad you are minuscule, and so darned adorable." Her voice rose to the timbre one would use when talking to a baby, just before she reached over to pinch my cheek.

  I batted her hand away and gave her a skinny-eyed look.

  "Ohhh, aren't we fierce," she taunted.

  "Juliet." Eric's voice held a warning, but my sister continued to smirk.

  I decided to drop it since Uncle Henry and Aunt Vi still seemed a bit shell-shocked over Mr. Parsons's visit. Neither one had made any effort to staunch our sisterly bickering.

  Eric assumed the mantle of peacekeeper and steered us back on topic. "I'm sure the sheriff has things well in hand. We're probably worried for no reason."

  "You will remember to call this attorney fellow Jonathan told you about, won't you, Thea?" Uncle Henry asked. I knew it wasn't a request. More like a politely framed order.

  "Yes, of course."

  "First thing in the morning?"

  "Yes."

  "I expect he opens his office early."

  "Yes, Uncle Henry. I'll call before I start work. I promise."

  "See that you do." He didn't return my smile.

  "So Eric," Aunt Vi said, clearing her throat. "How are your university classes going?"

  Eric took up the hint to change the subject, and normal dinnertime conversation resumed. The subject of Valerie was dropped. However, as I gathered dishes from the table after dinner I caught Uncle Henry, deep in thought, standing in front of what Aunt Vi called their Rogues Gallery -- one wall in the living room covered with framed photogra
phs of Uncle Henry's students and their horses. I didn't have to guess whose picture he looked at. I wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound insincere.

  I had plenty to say to Juliet, though, and saved it until we were left alone to do the dishes. Aunt Vi insists her good Royal Doulton china and the silver be washed by hand, and she uses them for dinner every night. Makes for a lot of extra work, but long ago we quit making suggestions and just pitched in.

  "When were you planning on telling me you were dating Eric?" I asked.

  "I was going to get around to it."

  "When? After you break up with him? He's not like the other guys you dated. He's a lot more mature, which means he's not going to play your games."

  "I know that."

  "I don't think you do." I put down the sponge and turned to her. "I think you didn't tell me because you didn't want a lecture."

  "You mean like you're doing now?"

  "I haven't even started. Juliet, you cannot play with Eric like you've played with every other guy. He's a mature man, not a commit-a-phobic adolescent."

  "Oh listen to you. Ladies and gentlemen, please take note of the voice of experience standing to my immediate left."

  "Correction: the voice of fricking compassion. Eric's a really good person. He deserves your respect and he deserves to be taken seriously." I ground my teeth and resumed washing up.

  "I know that." She sounded defensive. My inconsiderate sibling cast a furtive glance over her shoulder then turned the water on full and leaned closer to me. "The reason I didn't say anything is because there've been problems."

  "What kind of problems?" I handed her a delicate china plate I'd washed.

  "It started about a month ago. Eric and I didn't want people gossiping about us, especially since we'd just started dating, so we tried to keep things quiet." She rinsed the plate and put it in the rack to drip dry. "Valerie found out, somehow, and she immediately went after him. She kept trying to get him alone. Stuff like that. He tried being polite, but she was getting on his nerves. Thea, you know how straight-laced Eric is -- he didn't do anything but kiss me until he was sure I was in love with him, too." She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. It fell back with soap bubbles attached. "He's so gorgeous women hunt him, and he hates it. Valerie is -- was -- a user. She might as well have worn a sign. He always avoided her, but she really turned up the heat. Well, I couldn't take it any more so I confronted her in the New Barn last week. I told the little slut to keep her hands off him."

  "Juliet," I groaned.

  "Well, she lit into me first, really, so what could I do but hand it back? It ended with Miguel hauling me out of the barn while Valerie and I screamed insults at each other. What a bitch. I'd have flattened her if she touched me. I told her that and she laughed."

  "And that's why Delores was so mad at you."

  "Yeah. I guess I deserved it. I'm lucky she didn't fire me. Eric probably said something to her, but he won't tell me. I caught hell from Maria, too."

  "That wasn't a smart thing to do, Juliet."

  "I know." She shrugged and sighed. Juliet doesn't sigh. Not like that. "Eric moved back into Miguel and Maria's house because Valerie kept knocking on his apartment door. Anyway, we decided to keep our relationship quiet. That's why I didn't say anything to you."

  "I wouldn't have told anyone."

  "But you would have lectured me about losing my temper with Valerie like you just did, even though you never liked her, either." She reached over and stirred the suds in the sink. "I'm glad she's dead." She didn't look at me. "I hated her and I hated the way she went after Eric. Well, he doesn't have to worry anymore and neither do I."

  Now she looked, steady-eyed, at me, her jaw set. When I failed to say anything she took the dinner plate I'd been washing out of my hands. I scrubbed another plate while a knot grew in my stomach. Why was she justifying herself to me? Juliet never made excuses.

  "So," she whispered, leaning closer. "Did you get some 'thank you' nookie?" Her sullenness evaporated and the sparkle came back in her eyes.

  "Excuse me? I handed her the large platter to rinse. I wish people in this family would learn to put on their turn signals when they changed subject lanes.

  "Oh, come on. This morning, after Paul tossed Greg out. A little gratitude smooching?"

  "What?"

  She took a salad plate from me and slumped, like she couldn't believe I was so dense. "You know, 'girl is in peril, guy rescues girl, girl is wowed by his masculine prowess, and offers herself up in gratitude for services rendered.'"

  "No." I did my best to copy Aunt Vi's huffiness and dumped a fistful of silverware into Juliet's side of the sink for her to rinse.

  "Right. You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" She reached over and flicked a small handful of soap subs at me, missing completely.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Ha. Guys love that. Makes them feel powerful, protecting the little woman."

  "So why do you practice all this self-defense stuff?" Far better to dwell on her obvious incongruity.

  "I'm no fool, sister dear. Besides, Eric's not my bodyguard. He has other body privileges that confirm his masculinity." She chuckled smugly.

  "I'm glad you've been so thoughtful."

  "Come on. A sexy guy like Paul, with those big, broad, muscular shoulders, and an adorable little ass, lands a right hook to Greg's jaw and sends him sprawling, and you don't turn into a puddle at his feet?" She sighed dramatically and slid a sideways glance at me. "You are made of ice, girl."

  "And you are just plain --"

  "What do you need ice for?" Aunt Vi interrupted. "Is your bruise still bothering you, Thea?" Neither Juliet nor I had heard her walk in and we jumped simultaneously.

  "No … nothing," we said together. I hoped I didn't look as guilty as Juliet.

  Aunt Vi gave us both a narrow-eyed suspicious look and put two more wine goblets on the counter for us to wash. We were silent for the rest of the time it took to clean up.

  I did my best to ignore Juliet's remarks about Valerie stalking Eric, but the way she nailed my reaction to Paul was insightful. Was my longing for him really only sexual attraction spurred by high emotion and danger? If so, anything between us was temporary and I needn't worry about my emotions flaring up the next time I saw him. I was back in control, and that's what I needed right now, control.

  "Okay," she said, putting away the last dish. "Let's go."

  "Go where?"

  "You promised to help me practice for my Tae Kwon Do belt test. Remember?"

  Disappointed she hadn't forgotten, I asked, "Why can't Eric help you?"

  "He won't do it anymore."

  "Why not?"

  "He said it isn't right for a woman to practice beating up her boyfriend."

  "He has a point." I gathered up the wet dish towels to take to the laundry room.

  "He seems to think so."

  "Are you sure you want to do this so soon after dinner?"

  "Don't worry, it won't be that strenuous. Besides, you could use the practice." She eyed my bruised jaw. "You didn't remember a thing about the self-defense I taught you."

  "You never taught me any self-defense."

  "You obviously weren't paying attention, which is why you should help me tonight. Let's go up to the barn and practice in the aisle-way. Then we won't have to move furniture."

  Juliet hollered to Eric where we'd be. I grabbed my jacket. The sun was going down and the temperature was dipping into the upper thirties. Juliet never seemed to need a coat.

  The huge barn door slid easily in its track when I pushed it. I entered the dark aisle and flipped on the lights. The horses, still munching their hay, regarded us with momentary curiosity before going back to their evening meal. I love the sound of horses eating. There is a quiet, comforting rhythm to their chewing that lulls me into a sense that all is right with the world. I relaxed against Blackie's stall door, and clucked my tongue. He raised his head and stretched towar
d me until his nose touched the door's bars. I reached through and scratched his forehead. When he lowered his head for another mouthful of hay I left him alone and watched my sister warm up.

  Juliet began by practicing her forms, a specific series of blocks, kicks, and punches that have a graceful, dance-like quality to them. Eric joined us and stood quietly next to me. I glanced at him. He was absorbed in watching Juliet, clearly proud of her ability -- or admiring her shapeliness.

  The parts she wanted me to help her with were the self defense moves—specific "attacks" from the front and behind that she would counter with a combination of defenses. Fortunately for me, Juliet was more cognizant of pulling her punches this evening than she had been the last time I helped her practice.

  At this point Aunt Vi and Uncle Henry joined Eric and audience participation became rather boisterous. Between the cheering and hollering, I "attacked" Juliet and she "defended" herself. I got into the spirit of the thing as well, feigning attacks and trying to catch her unawares.

  After we'd executed every move and counter-move several times over, Juliet decided I should learn some of the defense moves, since I had a demonstrable need for them. She grabbed Eric's arm and dragged him to the center of the barn aisle, declaring him the assistant. His look of alarm prompted a laugh from all of us, even Uncle Henry.

  "Please?" She batted her eyelashes at him and ran the tip of one finger slowly down his cheek in a deliberately provocative move. "We can do it in really slow motion."

  The double entendre elicited hoots from us all. Eric blushed and laughed, and when he agreed, we cheered.

  "Okay, Eric, do this. No, no, to me, so Thea can see." He took hold of her shirt. "Okay, I'm going to do this." She grabbed his wrist with one hand and brought her other hand up in a movement that would have hyper-extended his elbow. He released her and leapt back with a shocked expression. "Good. Right! Don't let me hurt you. Jump out of range so when I kick --" and she did, "I -- whoops. Sorry."

  "It's okay." He grimaced, and passed a hand over his ribs.

  "Now Thea, you try."

  My first couple of attempts drew shrieks of laughter from our audience when Eric jumped nimbly away from me before I could begin the defensive move Juliet coached me through. At last he and I got the hang of it and pulled off an entire sequence of movements in acceptable form. Cheers went up from our audience, and even Blackie seemed to approve, giving us a half whinny and a toss of his dark head. Aunt Vi, standing in front of his stall, covered her ears.

  "Okay now," Juliet said. "Let's finish off by seeing what you could have done to Greg this morning."

  Although Juliet substituted for me, apprehension played havoc with my gut as I instructed Eric where to place his hands and what to do. Juliet deftly evaded him and delivered a couple of well-placed "punches." With a sigh of relief, I clapped and hollered with the others as the demonstration ended.

  Then it was my turn. Eric was to be Greg, again. Juliet stood next to me so I could copy her moves. Several things happened simultaneously. As Eric put his hands where Greg's had been, I stared to shake. A loud rushing sound in my ears nearly obliterated all other noise, and everyone's movements took on a bizarre, distant, slow-motion quality. Beyond the roaring in my ears I made out Blackie's frantic whinnying and the crash of his hoof striking his stall door. As all attention turned away from me and in his direction I saw a hand close around Eric's forearm to remove his hand from my face. Normal perception returned with a suddenness that made me stagger.

  A hand on my shoulder steadied me, and I heard Paul's voice. "I think her bruise is bothering her."

  At that moment, Paul's presence surprised me enough that I didn't notice what I realized later -- no one had witnessed my panic but Paul.

  And Blackie.

  "Oops, sorry!" Eric said, and dropped his other arm. Blackie was immediately quiet. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes, fine." I cleared my throat and gave him a weak smile.

  "Your horse is weird," Juliet said. "Want to try again?"

  "No, that's okay. I think I get the idea." I tried to sound matter of fact. I looked at Paul and flushed. Please don't say anything. His eyes softened and he gave me a tiny wink. Just between you and me, his expression seemed to say.

  She relented. "As long as you think you learned something."

  "Oh, absolutely. Thanks for the lesson."

  "Sure." My sister gave no indication that she was aware of my distress. She had other things on her mind, apparent from the sly glance she shot at Paul and the eyebrow wiggling aimed at me. Paul didn't notice. In that moment he was looking at me.

  "It's cold out here," Aunt Vi said, rubbing her arms. "Let's go indoors."

  "Good idea," Uncle Henry said.

  As our small group made its way to the house Paul hung back and placed a hand on my arm.

  "Are you sure you're all right?" His voice was low.

  "Yes. That was so strange." I shivered, slowed my pace and stopped.

  "But not an unusual response to reliving a trauma."

  "You seem well acquainted with trauma symptoms."

  "I spent two years in the army. It's part of 'on the job' training."

  My desire to linger near him conflicted with my determination to quit being so helpless. Once again he'd rescued me. Never mind that this time it was from myself. Evidently this "rescue-syndrome" Juliet had described so well was still at work, and I welcomed it with embarrassing enthusiasm. Standing close to Paul turned me into a hormonal train wreck. The muscles in my legs had the consistency of water and a hot flush spread rapidly up my neck to my cheeks. I mentally grabbed my self-control with both hands, and physically started toward the house. He matched my pace and stayed close enough to continue talking quietly, but not close enough to "accidentally" touch.

  "When did you join our party in the barn?" I asked, pleased with my cool tone.

  "A little before Juliet seduced Eric into cooperating." He chuckled. "She's good."

  "The best." I watched her take Eric's hand. She pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. He gave her a one-armed hug and kissed the side of her head in response.

  When we reach the kitchen I grabbed my purse off the counter.

  "Goodnight, everyone," I said, and gave my aunt and uncle a quick kiss.

  "Won't you stay another night?" Aunt Vi asked.

  "No, I can't." I was tired and wanted to sleep in my own bed. The drama was over. "Thanks for dinner, it was great." I did a lightning scan of the kitchen for Paul while trying to appear casual. He was across the room, leaning against the counter. He met my gaze. "'Night," I said.

  He gave me a small nod. "'Night."

  I headed for my car only to be waylaid by my sister.

  "Wait for us," she said, jogging up behind me. "We'll follow you home and make sure everything's okay."

  "You don't need to," I protested.

  "We don't mind."

  "It's not necessary."

  "I told Aunt Vi we would." She grinned at me, knowing she'd won.

  So much for being a strong independent woman. I'd make sure to get the memo out first thing in the morning. I guess I was the only one who knew.