CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU DON’T HAVE to drive me to town,” Sydney told Benno as she came downstairs to find him waiting for her.
She’d changed into a pair of loose white pants and a big blue cotton shirt fastened at the waist with a hand-tooled leather belt. The roll of film was secure inside the matching shoulder bag snugged against her chest. She clung to the purse, afraid the final proof of her connection to Kenneth might disappear as mysteriously as had her marriage license.
“Driving you is no problem,” Benno assured her.
He walked straight to the driveway, empty now save for his vehicle. Martha and Brickman had left and her own car was parked in the garage. He opened the black Thunderbird’s passenger door.
“Get in,” he said, circling the sports car and sliding behind the wheel.
An order rather than a request, Sydney thought, doing so. Now that her head was clear and her anger burned brightly, she was capable of handling things -- she merely chose not to insist. Benno DeMartino cared what happened to her. She didn’t want to put him off with some misplaced sense of pride.
Why did she feel so attached to a man who had been a stranger less than twenty-four hours before? And why did he feel responsible for her?
“There are a couple of places that handle film, but Stone Beach Photo has the best service,” Benno told her.
They locked gazes as he started the engine. Sydney was at once comforted and anxious. She couldn’t explain her strange reaction. It was almost as if she were attracted to the man. Relieved when he looked over his shoulder to back out of the drive, she settled into her bucket seat.
“We’ll get the questions about your marriage straightened out tomorrow,” Benno said, swinging the car toward town. “Don’t kid yourself about Martha’s leaving town. Wherever she’s off to, she’ll be back. Think you can handle her alone tonight?”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
And, troubled by the unusual way she’d been acting, Sydney was determined to regain her strength. Normally she was a leader, a dynamo, efficiency in motion. But the last several months – especially the past few days – had taken the starch out of her. She hated feeling helpless. And beholden. Still, she didn’t want Benno to think her ungrateful for his continued support, no doubt offered due to his friendship with Kenneth.
“Listen,” she said, “I appreciate your believing in me. You don’t even know me.”
“Maybe I know you better than you think.”
Sydney had long considered she was insightful when it came to reading people, but with her senses askew, she could no longer be sure of anything. Except Benno, an inner voice added. Instinctively, she knew she could count on him.
Main Street was clean and neat and alive. People of all ages stared at display windows and entered the quaint-looking shops that lined the half-mile stretch.
“Lots of tourist activity today,” Benno commented.
“Is that unusual? It is August.”
“It’s also a Wednesday. This place has always been a madhouse from Friday through Sunday, spring through fall, but weekdays used to be a lot slower.”
“Maybe tourism is picking up.”
“Being a businessman, I should hope so, but I preferred Stone Beach when it was slower paced. That’s why I came back.”
From where? Something kept Sydney from pursuing the answer. Later, she promised herself. Later she would get answers to a lot of questions that had sprung to mind.
After waiting for a family of vacationers to cross in the middle of the block, Benno pulled into a diagonal space in front of Stone Beach Photos. The shop door’s bell jingled as he held it open for her. She preceded him inside, brushing his arm. An awareness washed through Sydney that troubled her.
“What can I do for you?” a carrot-topped man behind the counter asked.
Sydney dug into the shoulder bag. “I have some film that needs to be developed as soon as possible.”
“It costs a little extra, but I can guarantee next day service.” The man gave her an envelope. “Fill this in.”
The bell jingled, signaling another entrance. Beside her, Benno stiffened, making Sydney look up when she finished scribbling her name. Parnell Anderson entered with Officer Mick Brickman right behind him.
“DeMartino,” the auburn-haired man growled.
“Anderson.”
It didn’t take psychic powers to realize the two men didn’t like one another. They squared off, each hostile and wary of the other, while, hands hooked in his gunbelt, Brickman guarded the door. Amusement curled his thick lips. Sydney was instantly edgy. Scrawling out her address, she dropped the roll of film into the envelope and handed the package to the clerk.
“What time can I pick up the photos?” she asked, wanting to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. The atmosphere was thick with hostility and she’d had enough of that.
“Make it after four to be safe.”
“Great. I’ll be here about that time tomorrow.”
About to suggest they leave, Sydney was stopped by Anderson’s challenge to Benno.
“I was amazed that you weren’t at your buddy’s memorial service.”
“I was out of town. On business.”
Anderson’s eyes never left Benno’s face. “Fate works in strange ways, doesn’t it?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You and Lord returning to the scene of the crime... his drowning... perhaps a higher power was exacting justice, at last.”
Bewildered by the statement, Sydney looked to Benno. His eyes were narrowed on the other man, his body stiff as if he were barely holding himself in check. Spontaneously, she placed a hand on his arm whose muscles were tight and hard, and gazed at him steadily until she got his attention. When he looked down at her, his expression was enough to frighten the heartiest soul, yet Sydney wasn’t afraid.
“I’m finished here,” she said quietly, ignoring the other men. “We can leave now.”
The coldness in Benno’s light brown eyes thawed. Nodding, he led the way out of the shop.
“So, what can I do for you, Cousin Parnell?” the clerk asked as the door closed behind them.
And Sydney could barely contain her curiosity as to why the confrontation had taken place.