Beatrice and Douglas (9 page)

The next morning, the worksite had suffered another
breach.  This time it was busted windows and paint thrown across the
previously pristine floor of the upstairs study. 

“Well,” Beatrice said looking at the mess, “this is getting
old.”

“We locked away all the paints and finishes last
night.  They had to break into the trailer and carry this shit here. 
What the fuck?”

“Seems like a lot of work for a few kids up to
mischief.  You and the cousins were all about the trouble when you were
kids.  Does this look like trouble you would have perpetrated?”

“Hell, no.  Something else is going on here.  One
break-in and vandalism I can see, but two, plus our room trashed at Mrs.
Peal’s?  No, this doesn’t feel like kids to me.  Someone had a
definite agenda here, but damned if I can see what it is.”  Then he huffed
out a breath, “Shit!”

“What?”

“We have to call that sheriff out here again.”

“Bleck.”

“Yeah.  I, too, look forward to the inquisition, where
I am both the victim and the usual suspect.”  He pulled her into his arms
and hugged her.  “Then I’m calling Jack and getting an investigator on
this.  No way is this random, and I do not like the idea of you in harm’s
way for who the fuck knows what.”

***

It wasn’t until Friday that the investigator showed up, and
right away Douglas did not like the look of him.  Frank had told him he
was calling in an old military favor for the referral, but there was no way
this guy was in the service with Jack.  Way the fuck too young.  More
Douglas’s age, and too damn good looking by the way Beatrice did a double take
and blinked stupidly when she looked up and caught her first sight.

Douglas felt his jaw tense up.
 Old army buddy my
ass
.

Beatrice was having the same kind of thoughts, though she
didn’t know it.  The man looked really good in cowboy boots — most of it
seemed to be leg.  Broad shoulders, and very nicely rock hard all
over.  Though his brown hair was bare, curling slightly at his collar, it
was not hard to picture the cowboy hat that should be there.  He had
piercing hazel eyes that looked right through a person with startling
intensity.

“Ms. Blue?”  She nodded at the question, even while he
continued to study her.  “I’m Logan McCord.  You’re Uncle Jack asked
me to look into some suspicious activity around here.”

She had to swallow before she could speak.  He had a
rough edge and a slight twang to his voice that she could just eat up. 
“You’re the old army buddy of Uncle Jack’s?”

The man didn’t laugh but his eyes crinkled just a bit at the
corners with humor.  “A little before my time.  I was referred to
your Uncle Jack by an old army buddy who owed him a favor.”

“Well, that explains it.”  Her voice was a little too
high, and she was very much afraid she was going to start giggling if he didn’t
look away soon.  That would be embarrassing.  It was bad enough she
could feel the intense neon heat in her cheeks.
 Sometimes it sucks to
be a redhead.

The man turned back to Douglas, who she finally noticed was
glowering quite fiercely at her. 
Oops. 
She shrugged her
shoulders and tried to look properly apologetic. 

“You said they broke into a trailer?  This one?”

Douglas unclenched his teeth and got back to business. 
As far as he was concerned, the faster this investigation happened the
better.  “No.  They hit the trailer with the paint and
supplies.  They left this one and the one we use for breaks alone.”

“Interesting . . . so they knew which ones to hit?”

That got Douglas’s firm attention.  “Shit.  Yeah,
they did.  I’ll take you over there.”

The man led the way out with Douglas close behind. 
When she made it down the stairs, her arm was snagged and she was firmly wedged
beneath the arm of Douglas, The Bruce, marauding Viking apparently, since he
was all set on establishing his claim.

“What?” she asked in a whisper.

“You know damn well what,” he growled back just as low,
before tightening his hand and pulling her even closer as they walked. 
“Are you staring at his ass?”

Shit, she was.
  She looked away fast.  “Of
course not.  So you think whoever is doing this was watching us?” 
The topic switch was obvious and heavy handed, but he let it go.

“Probably, but, it definitely rules out kids in my
mind.  If teenagers were going to hit something, it would be the RV where
there could be beer and, hell, anything, not the storage trailer, and
definitely not twice in a row.”

They caught up with Logan at the door of the trailer where
he was hunkered down looking at the lock.  For a second, she could swear
he was smelling it, but then she blinked and he was just studying it like
anyone would.

“This break in that trashed your rooms, when did that
happen?”

“Saturday. Then the first time here was on Tuesday, then
again on Wednesday, and nothing since then.”  Douglas kept hold of
Beatrice when she would have moved.  “I know they are connected, I just
have no clue how.”

“Anything else happen, anything unusual?  Or even not
so unusual that happened in the last few weeks?”

“We started working here.  Had a visit from the
owner.”  He narrowed his eyes and looked down at Beatrice.  “Beatrice
broke up with her boyfriend.  He came here for a visit and we had a few
words.”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes.  “He’s hardly going to
waste his time on petty theft and vandalism.  He’s a lawyer for goodness
sake.”

“He could have hired someone.”  It had only just
occurred to him but he liked the idea of Charles being the culprit.  He
could legitimately kick his ass.

“And you got your letter,” she threw in just to get that
predatory gleam out of his eyes.  “That was recent.”

“Letter?” Logan McCord asked.

Douglas’s jaw went tight, but the distraction worked. 
“From my biological grandfather.  His lawyers are trying to get me to
visit.”  He shook his head at Beatrice.  “They have no reason to
sabotage my job.  The old man just wants to absolve his sins before he
dies, or so I assume.”

“You haven’t followed up?”

If his jaw got any harder, it would fracture. 
“No.   He has nothing to say that I want to hear.”

“Still have the letter?”  He looked down at Beatrice
who was the one holding on to Douglas now.  “And I’ll need the name of the
lawyer and his contact information?”

She blinked up at him.  “You’re going to talk to
Charles?”

“I’m going to talk to everyone.”

***

Turns out he was also finding time between talks with
everyone to stake out the site, because at about 4 am they got a phone call.

Douglas was wrapped around Beatrice like a boa constrictor
so he was going to have to be the one to answer the phone, which he did, naked
and with a curse.  Beatrice chuckled drowsily and had to pull the covers
over her head to hide from the glare he threw her way at the affront.

“This had better be damn important.”

“Caught your vandals.” 

Douglas blinked and pulled the phone away from his ear for a
second to stare at it.  “McCord?”

At the name, Beatrice flipped the covers back down and sat
up, briefly distracting him because he had made sure she was as naked as him
when they finally slept.  She rolled her eyes when she noticed his eyes on
her and pulled the blankets up.

“You have someone else working this case?”

“No. I do not.” 

“That was fast.”
 

“They came back to work some more mischief.  Caught
them in the act, and got the name of their employer before they clammed up for
the cops.”

“So, not just kids.”

“No.  Professional bad boys imported from
Seattle.  And the man who hired them is the man who owns the house.”

“Benedict?  What the hell?  Why would he slow us
down on his own property?  If he didn’t want the work done, why hire us?”

“I’m working on that.  Should have an answer for you
within a few days, but that means a side trip so I wanted to give you a heads
up.  I got the guys, but without knowing the agenda of this Benedict, I
think it would be smart to keep an eye on your girl, and anything else you
value.”

Douglas looked at the bed where Beatrice was looking as
confused as he was, although on her it was a whole hell of a lot cuter. 
“She’s the only thing I’m worried about, and I’ll be like Teflon.”

“Good.  I’ll call you when I know anything.”

As soon as he had the phone in its cradle, he returned to
the bed where Beatrice waited. “Mr. Benedict hired the vandals?”

He pulled back the blankets and shoved her over enough to
get in and pull her into his arms.  She rested her cheek on his shoulder
and her tiny warm hand on his heart.  “That makes no sense to me.”

“I think we are going to have to wait until McCord finishes
his investigation to get the answers.  I certainly can’t figure it
out.”  He yawned and snuggled her in closer, closing his eyes. 

“He sure caught them fast.”  Her tone was admiring and
it had Douglas’s eyes snapping back open. 

“He got lucky.”

“I guess.  But I feel better now that he’s identified
the villain, even if it still makes no sense.”

“We would have figured it out eventually,” he muttered,
narrowed eyes on the ceiling.  “And you didn’t need to worry. You were
never in any danger.”

“That’s not what I meant.  I’m just saying it’s good
he’s on the job.”

Douglas rolled her over onto her back so fast she
squeaked. 

“What are you doing?” she asked with a blink.

“Giving you something else to think about besides McCord,”
he growled before he swooped down and took her mouth with devastating
precision. 

By the time he was done, she would have been lucky to
remember her own name, let alone anyone else’s.

***

The next day was Saturday so they didn’t have to be
anywhere.  After their late night call, and then Douglas’s even later
shenanigans, they nearly missed the French toast.  This time they got
lucky and got a window seat facing the pier and the sailboat moored
there.  The ocean stretched for miles and the sun was actually shining
through the clouds enough to reflect diamond bright off the waters.

Alice, the waitress, was there with even more cleavage and a
slightly sharper shade of red, as if she had just had her color redone.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away hot stuff,” she said to
Douglas with a wink, handing them the menus and writing down their drink
orders.  “You all enjoying your stay in Port Townsend?”

“Absolutely,” Beatrice said with a smile, determined to keep
her eyes above the neckline.  “It’s beautiful here.”

“It is that.  I’ll give you kids a minute.”  Then
she slinked away.  Like a cat . . . a very old slinky cat.  Beatrice
had to shake her head at the sight.  “I’ll never be a sex kitten. 
Even if I live to be 105.  I’ll never have the innate sexy attitude of
women like that.”

Douglas was perusing the menu and spoke
absentmindedly.  “Some women need to work at it, advertise, and shine it
up, like they have something to sell and need the marketing.  All you have
to do is breath and you’re the sexiest woman I have ever met.”  He put
down his menu and stood up.  “Order me the ham and over-easy eggs, will
you?  I’m hitting the head.”  Then he kissed the top of her head and
was gone.

Beatrice sat frozen by the words he had spoken so
casually.  When she felt a presence at the table, she blinked herself out
of her head and turned to give the order, but it wasn’t Alice.  A vaguely
familiar looking blonde was standing there looking sad.  Speaking of sex
kittens selling their wares, a gold ass-hugging dress and sparkly heals seemed
excessive for a Saturday morning at the Pacific Northwest’s answer to the Tiki
Hut, but she was working it.

“Do you remember me?”

“I’m sorry, you look familiar but I’m not . . .”

“I came to your worksite with Martin to see the house.”

And that clicked it.  “You’re a friend of Martin
Benedict?”

“Yes.”  She looked relieved.  “I was looking for
Dougie.”

“Dougie?”

“Yeah, after that night…well, he called but I have been so
busy, and then when I saw you come in here together, I thought . . .”

“You thought?”

“That I could say ‘hi’.”

“Uh-huh. Well, would you like to sit down and wait for
him?  He should only be a minute.”

She looked confused for a minute, but then seemed to
rally.  “No, that’s okay.  Just tell him I got his message and I will
see him then.”

Beatrice leaned back and smiled big at the woman, who looked
nonplussed for a minute.  “You’ll see him for some alleged plans you two
made after ‘that night’?”

“Alleged plans?”

“It means ‘asserted, but not yet proven’.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“Oh, I know you’re lying.  What I want to know is what
you have to gain by it.”  She tilted her head, calmly studying the other
woman.  “Or should I say what has Martin Benedict to gain by it?”

Alice showed up with two coffee cups and a carafe just then
and smiled while she expertly set them out and poured.  “You having
another for breakfast, cutey?”

Beatrice smiled at Alice.  “That depends on her.” 
She raised a challenging brow at the other woman.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t
catch your name?”

“Never mind, I don’t have to stay here and be
insulted.”  Then she turned on her four-inch heels and slinked quickly,
out the door.”

“Nice shoes,” Alice said with a sigh. 

It made Beatrice chuckle.  “Yeah.  Douglas wants
the ham and eggs, over easy.  I’d like the French toast, with scrambled,
thanks.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

Alice passed Douglas on his way back.  “If that was an
ex-girlfriend, hot stuff, I say you traded up.”  Then with a wink, she was
gone again – no doubt to give some senior citizen a cheap thrill.