I gathered up the papers with a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders. "Never mind about that, Gil. I need you to keep doing what you're good at, which is to root out the info. This time I want you to concentrate on Steven Senior. We need to know why he's so interested in this parcel of land."
"Wait a minute," Gilley demanded as I got up and stretched with a yawn. "You two are holding out on me!"
Steven got to his feet as well and mimicked my stretch. "I am … so … like a shrub," he said.
Gilley and I both looked at him before I broke into a smile. "You're bushed, dear, not shrubbed."
"Yes, that too," Steven said with a flip of his hand. "If you need me, I'll be in my room."
"Me too," I said, following him toward the stairs.
"Hey!" Gilley squawked. "Come back! You're not playing fair!"
"Night, Gil," I said with a wave of my hand.
"It's against the law to be mean to the handicapped!" he squawked.
* * * *
Later, after I'd put Doc to bed, I heard a soft knock on my door. I hurried to answer it, afraid the noise would wake my sleeping bird. I opened the door to find Steven in a pair of black boxer briefs and a matching T-shirt. In his hand he held two snifters with some sort of amber-colored liquid. "Nightgown?" he asked.
I leaned against the doorjamb and folded my arms together. "I thought you were shrubbed and headed to bed?"
Steven raised one of the snifters to his lips and, looking at me over the rim, he sniffed the contents. "Do you like scotch, M.J.?"
I smiled, liking the mix of his foreign accent with the deep, masculine timbre of his voice. "I've been known to knock back a few shots in my day."
Steven held out the other snifter to me, his eyes lingering on mine until I took it. When I did, he pushed into my room. "Come on in," I said sarcastically.
He ignored the comment. "I like this room. It has … how do you say … luck?"
"Luck?" I asked, closing the door.
"Yes, I think that is the way you say it when something is warm and inviting."
"Do you mean charm?"
"Yes, yes, that's it," he said, swiveling around to face me.
I cocked an eyebrow at him and asked, "So, what are you really doing here?"
"Having a nightgown."
I rolled my eyes. "It's a nightcap, not nightgown."
"Even better," Steven said as he eased over to my bed and sat down. When I shook my head at him, he patted the bedspread and said, "Come, sit with me and drink your scotch. I promise not to nibble you."
"Bite me," I corrected.
"That is not very nice," he said, sounding slightly offended.
"What?"
"Bite me. That is what the kids are saying when they are not so nice, correct?"
I giggled and moved over to the bed, sitting next to him. "The expression is not, 'I promise not to nibble you,' it's, 'I promise not to bite you.'"
"Ah, well, that makes no sense. Why would I promise not to bite you when you taste so good?" he purred.
I put my hand on his chest as I gave him a stern, "Buddy, let's just drink our drink and talk our talk, okay?"
"My way is more fun," he replied, giving his eyebrows a wiggle.
"So you tell me," I answered. "Now, about this little land deal that your father seems to be so interested in. Do you have any idea why he would care about the property you own up here?"
"None. Of all the property my grandfather owned, this seems to be the least valuable. Yes, it is a lot of land, but it's not nearly as valuable as some of the other holdings he had."
"Did you know your grandfather put the property in life estate?"
Steven nodded. "Preferably."
I gave him a quizzical look and cocked my head to the side. "Come again?"
"Preferably. You know, on the edge, or the outside."
"Peripherally?"
"Yes, what did I say?"
"Never mind. Anyway, you were saying?"
"I knew, but it didn't click in my head. His attorneys called me in Germany, and I was still so stunned to hear of his death. I remember them filling me with details, but my brain was not keeping with it. I didn't even realize the importance of it until Gilley was talking about it downstairs."
"I see. So let me ask the million-dollar question: Do you think your father is trying to kill you?" I had finally said the thing that was really bothering me. And even though I knew that Steven and his father had no real love for each other, I still couldn't fathom a father killing his own son.
Steven swirled the amber liquid for a long moment. He then took a sip and, without looking at me, said, "He's always been the kind of man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted."
My chest tightened. "In other words, now that we know he has a motive, you and I need to be especially careful about what tunnels and paths we follow in the dark, huh?"
"I would say yes, that is correct."
"So let me ask the other question that's been bothering me—"
"The answer is the same, M.J.," Steven said, cutting me off. "He is the type of man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Even shoving his own father off a roof."
The room fell quiet as we both thought about that. I tried to think of something comforting to say, but nothing came to mind, and just as I was about to try to change the subject by mentioning the weather, Steven said, "I think it's time for both of us to hit the straw."
"Hay," I corrected, but Steven didn't seem to notice, because he was already up and walking toward the door.
"I shall see you in the morning?" he said, more question than statement.
"Yes," I said, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Get some rest, Steven, and thanks again for the nightgown."
Chapter 12
The next morning I woke early, anxious to be up and moving. I crept downstairs and poked my head into the kitchen to say hi to Helen, who was busy preparing blueberry pancakes. "You going out for a run?" she asked me.
"Yeah, should be back in time to gobble up some of those, though," I said, pointing to the batter she was preparing.
"Good to know." She smiled. "Does Doc like blueberries?"
"Does Polly want a cracker?" I laughed. "That bird will devour any kind of fruit except pineapple. For some reason he's got an aversion to it."
"I'll put some in a bowl for him and you can feed him when you get back," she said.
"Thanks, Helen. If the boys wake up before I return, just tell 'em I'm out for a run."
I went outside and did a few stretches, more just to say I did than to really stretch. Once I'd gone through the motions, I crossed the street and began to jog.
For me, there is nothing better than a nice run, especially on a clear spring morning, when the air is still crisp and the dew is heavy. I felt the usual aches and pains associated with that first half mile, but as the rest of my joints and muscles woke up, I really got into it and began to push myself.
I headed in pretty much the same direction I had the other day, wondering if it was a good idea to ran down the street where I'd seen Steven's car parked in front of a certain waitress's cute little ranch.
I hadn't remembered to check the driveway for his car this morning—my mind had been on other things. Now I was faced with the moral dilemma of sticking my nose into business that wasn't mine. After a little back-and-forth I decided, The hell with it, and pointed my toes down that street, concentrating on appearing disinterested and aloof.
As I passed Annalise's house I allowed my eyes to roam over the driveway, and what I saw there nearly brought me to a halt. Parked neatly in front of her garage was a shiny silver Rolls-Royce, indicating Steven Senior was in residence.
"Son of a bitch," I panted as I made a U-turn and jogged over to get a better look. I paused along her fence and pretended to stretch out a charley horse, keeping one eye on the house, hoping someone would come out and I might catch a bit of conversation. Nothing happened, and I began to worry that all my massaging of my leg migh
t be overdoing it a little, so I turned and began to run again.
When I'd gone about a half mile I doubled back as an excuse to get another look, and to my surprise the car was gone. "Shit," I said as I passed the house. If I'd hung out a little longer, I might have seen something.
I picked up the pace on the way back to the B and B so I could fill Gilley and Steven in. Once I reached the inn I stood outside for a minute, holding the stitch in my side and waiting to catch my breath before going inside.
"I've been looking for you," Steven said from the doorway as I walked up the stairs. "Did you have a good run?"
I nodded. "Yep. And a good thing I did, because I saw something mighty interesting a few blocks that way," I said, pointing.
"What?"
"Your father's car parked in front of that cute waitress's house."
Steven's face went purple in less than two seconds. "You are pulling on my leg," he said in a voice that sounded dangerous.
"Nope," I said, just a wee bit smugly.
"That bastard," Steven spit as he stormed down the steps.
I watched with surprise as he passed me and headed to his car, fishing around in his jeans pocket for his keys. When he hauled them out he looked back up at me and asked, "Coming?"
I nodded dumbly and moved back down the stairs, belatedly realizing that I must look—and smell—like hell. "I don't suppose I have time for a quick shower?" I asked as I approached.
"This won't take long, and you look good. I like you hot and drippy," Steven said with a small grin.
"Gee, stop with the love talk," I said sarcastically as I got into his car. "It's gonna go to my head."
We arrived at Annalise's house in short order, and Steven wasted no time marching right up to the house and pounding on the door. It was opened a moment later by the very pretty woman I'd seen but never met. "Steven!" she said with warmth. "I didn't expect you. Are you here to check on Shanah?"
"Annalise, we need to talk," Steven said. "Can we come in?"
Annalise looked a bit taken aback by Steven's tone, but she opened the door wide and we trooped on in. As we entered I felt a familiar knocking sensation on my energy that caught me off guard. It was coming from the end of a hallway located off her living room, and while Steven made the introductions I allowed myself to open up to the energy from the hallway.
I sensed a little boy, full of mischief, with the name Samuel. His energy was so noisy and intrusive that I had no choice but to acknowledge him. "It's nice to meet you, M.J.," Annalise was saying to me.
"Likewise. Uh, I'm sorry to throw this at you, but who is Samuel?"
Annalise blinked at me as her perky mouth turned into an O. "Excuse me?"
"Samuel. He says he plays with your daughter."
Annalise gave Steven a look that questioned my sanity. "She's a medium," Steven explained. "She talks to dead people."
Annalise gasped as she turned back to me. "Oh, my goodness!" she said. "Shanah has been talking about this little boy named Sam who plays with her! I thought it was some child from her school, but every once in a while I'll catch her talking to someone who's not in the room, and she's been claiming it's this little boy."
I nodded. "He says that he used to live down the street. He says that he knew you before, when you were with John?"
Annalise gave another little gasp. "That was my high school boyfriend! And there was a little boy about a block away who was hit by a car, and I think his name was Sam!"
I nodded. "He says his mother is still close by, and she won't let go. He says she blames herself, and it wasn't her fault."
Annalise nodded. "Mrs. Trenton. She lives alone in that house and hardly ever comes outside. I heard that she'd gone inside to answer the phone while Sam was in the front yard, and a moment later he was hit by a car."
"Sam says it's really important that you let her know he was here today and told her to let go of her guilt. He says that he's been staying with Bill or Billy … and Liz or Elizabeth. He says they are taking good care of him, and she shouldn't worry."
"I'll tell her," Annalise said.
"Has this little boy crossed over?" Steven asked.
I smiled that he was becoming so familiar with my lingo. "Yes, he's safely on the other side, but he's worried about his mother, and that keeps him coming back here to check on her. He also likes playing with your daughter, Annalise."
"I have goose bumps," Annalise said, her big blue eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at me. "Is there anything else, M.J.?"
Sam was fading fast from my energy now that I'd gotten the message out. "No. That's all he had to say. He'll be back later to play with Shanah."
At that moment a petite little girl with large eyes behind giant round glasses came down the hallway on tiptoe. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" she said. I watched her as she peeked into a room off the hallway and came forward. I smiled at her, knowing she had a very special playmate.
Seeing us, Shanah stopped for a moment, then moved over to hide behind her mother's legs. "Shanah," Annalise said. "You remember Steven."
Shanah looked up at Steven, then hid her face again behind her mother. "And this is his friend M.J. She just talked to Sam."
Shanah peeked up curiously at me and said, "We're playing hide-and-seek."
I squatted down to be at eye level with her. "I know. He said he had to go home for a bit, but he'd be back later to finish the game."
Shanah nodded and then bolted away from her mother, skipping back down the hallway to her room. We all watched her until she'd disappeared; then Steven asked, "How's her breathing been?"
"Better since the other night. And thank you again for coming over. I know I should have just taken her to the emergency room, but it's twenty-five miles away, and knowing you were close by was a hard thing to pass up."
"Think nothing of it, Anna," Steven said gently. "Now, what was my father doing here this morning?"
Annalise looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Honestly, where are my manners?" she said as a diversion. "Come, come. Into the kitchen. I've got fresh coffee." With that she darted past us.
We followed her through an archway and into a tiny kitchen with a small table and three chairs set up against one wall. Annalise busied herself pulling down three cups from the cupboard as she said over her shoulder, "Please have a seat while I pour you a fresh cup."
Steven and I sat and waited while she served us the warm brew. I took a sip; it was delicious. "You make a good cup of coffee," I said.
Annalise took her seat, fully composed again as she replied, "Thank you. I pay a little bit extra for it, but everyone needs an indulgence, right?"
"Are you going to answer my question?" Steven cut in.
Annalise fiddled with the hem of her blouse. "He showed up last night, Steven. What was I supposed to do?"
"Tell him to go to hell," he said bluntly.
Annalise gave him a dark look. "He said he wanted to see Shanah. He said he'd heard she'd been having some health issues lately. Which he probably heard through Andy at the pharmacy running his mouth again, but he wanted to make sure she was okay."
"Why would he care, Annalise?" Steven said meanly.
I watched the two of them in silence, wondering about the history here. It was obvious that there was more to the Annalise and Steven Senior story than I was privy to. "He's changed, Steven."
"Bullshit."
"He says that he wants to be a part of her life. He's willing to step up to the plate and take care of us."
Steven studied her for a long, tense moment, his mouth a thin line of anger mixed with frustration. Then, very quietly, he said, "Annalise, please. Be wise about this man. He will say these things, and then he will leave—just the way he left me and my mother. You will be hurting yourself and Shanah by trusting him."
It was Annalise's turn to get angry. "That's enough," she snapped. "This is none of your business, anyway. I appreciate all you've done for us, Steven, but you're letting your own fe
elings of resentment for your father color your opinion. I'll decide what's best for Shanah and me."
Steven held her gaze until she was finished. "I just have one question for you," he said quietly. "How can you be sure he's really changed? That this time will be different?"
"I looked into his eyes, Steven; he wasn't lying. He told me it was time he stepped up and took responsibility for Shanah. He's even willing to take a paternity test."
Steven's face darkened, and I found myself a little frightened by the look he was giving the tabletop. After an awkward silence he said, "Come, M.J. It's time to go."
I gave Annalise an apologetic shrug of my shoulders and got up as well. "Thank you for the coffee," I said as I followed him through the kitchen.
"Don't mention it," she said, not turning around.
We made it back to the B and B without further comment. Steven's mood seemed dangerous, and I didn't want to poke the bear, so I let it go. When we got inside I hurried up the stairs to shower, then came down with Doc on my shoulder.
Gilley was seated at the dining room table, sipping coffee, the big pillow he'd used on the couch firmly tucked under him on the chair at the table. "Hey, girlfriend," he said happily.
"Doc wants a berry!" my bird squawked.
"Hey, Gil," I said as I took my seat, and set Doc on the table to nibble at the bowl of blueberries that Helen had set out.
"Where's Dr. Delicious?" Gil asked.
"I don't know," I said, looking around. "Probably upstairs being gloomy."
"Did you shut him out last night?" Gil asked with a grin.
My cheeks flushed as I reached for the plate of pancakes in the middle of the table. "Noooo," I said, stretching the word out. "I saw his father's car parked in front of that waitress's house this morning on my jog, and when I told him about it he insisted on going over there."
"He confronted his father?"
I forked a bit of pancake into my mouth before answering. "No, his father had gone by then. But he did confront the waitress."
"What's the connection?" Gil wanted to know.
"It appears that Steven Senior may have fathered another child."