Stormcatcher (7 page)

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Simon’s gaze searched her face.

“Like what?”

“Your eyes are squinty, and you look ferocious. I’d be scared to be in a dark room with you.”

She couldn’t help herself—a laugh bubbled from her throat. “Good. I think you could be as dangerous as your cousin.” Simon had a way of penetrating her
defenses, and she had to find some strategy to keep him at a distance. What that might be, she had no idea.

The lines at the corners of Simon’s eyes deepened as he looked suddenly serious. “Not me, Wynne. I don’t play around with hearts.”

“You’re saying you haven’t broken any hearts—ever?”

He shook his head. “Women like my money, not me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she blurted.

He gave a faint smile. “But that’s because you’re honest and straightforward. You say what you think and make no bones about where your interests lie. There’s no doublespeak with you.”

She thought it might be the strangest compliment she’d ever received. “Thanks. I think.”

He grinned. “It’s a refreshing change. Now if I bought a boat outrigged like Jacques Cousteau you might suck up to me to get a post on it.”

“You might be right.” She snuggled further into the blanket. “With that atrocious coffee in my stomach and this blanket I’m inclined to be generous and let you buy me some lunch.”

“You don’t want to change first?” He shook his head. “You really are an amazing woman.”

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t borrow your comb.”

He chuckled and rummaged in the glove box again, then produced a comb with half the teeth missing. “It’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll take it.” She took it and began to work the
tangles out of her hair. His gaze on her did funny things to her breathing. “Quit staring,” she said.

“Sorry.” He averted his eyes. “You’ve got the most beautiful hair.”

“Yeah right, tell me that when it’s plastered to my head.” She quickly braided it again. “I don’t suppose you have a rubber band or something around here?”

“Let me see.” He sorted through the junk in the bottom of the glove box and produced a hair ribbon. “Will this do?”

She wanted to ask him why he had a hair ribbon in his truck, but she didn’t want to know the answer.

W
ynne glanced around the café and found nearly twenty sets of male eyes all focused on her. She doubted she had a stitch of makeup left, but at least she was wearing a sweatshirt that wouldn’t cling when wet.

“I know I look like the lake’s version of the Windigo, but would you all quit staring?” She smiled to take the sting out of her statement.

Most of the men had the decency to look away. She heard Simon’s deep chuckle. “At least someone finds it funny.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and his hazel eyes crinkled with amusement. As they moved to find a seat, she reminded herself to keep him at arm’s length. It was hard when his good nature was so appealing.

She slid into a seat in the back. The men far outnumbered the women on the island, Becca had told her. Many of the women had moved away to find jobs and a larger pool of possible spouses.

Wynne glanced around the café. The bare planks on the floor had been scrubbed so many times there was only a trace of paint left on them. The sun and numerous washings had faded the red gingham curtains on the windows to a mellow pink. Old signs and banners decorated the walls, which were paneled with barn siding. Plastic red checked tablecloths covered the tables arranged around the room.

It felt homey and comfortable—or it would have if the men hadn’t been staring. Wynne shifted in her chair and wished she’d put her back to the room. “Mind if we trade seats?” she whispered to Simon. “I feel like a guppy in a fishbowl.”

He grinned and stood. “Too many piranha?”

Though he was joking, she could see the sympathy in his gaze. They exchanged seats, and Wynne felt more comfortable without seeing the men.

“They think they can look now that you can’t see them.” Simon chuckled and took his napkin, then laid it over his lap. “I can understand their fascination. You’re pretty cute even with wet hair.”

Her stomach did a slow somersault at the expression on his face. She wanted to look away and couldn’t. “I have to look a mess,” she whispered.

“Prettiest thing this side of the lake.”

“That’s not saying much,” she said, finally breaking their locked gaze. “At least their stares can’t turn my stomach.”

The waitress brought menus. Her name tag read Rhonda. “Coffee?”

Wynne grimaced. “Thanks but no.”

The waitress cocked an eyebrow. “Did you force some of that vile brew you make down her throat?”

“Guilty as charged.” Simon looked unrepentant.

“Honey, I feel for you. No one can drink his coffee. Ours is better, I promise.”

Wynne wondered how the waitress knew that. Rhonda was cute and perky. Had Simon used the famous Lassiter charm on her? Taken her home for a cup of coffee one night? She bit her lip. She needed to quit looking under rocks and take Simon at face value.

She laid down the menu. “Would you happen to have any hot cocoa? There’s none on the menu.”

“It’s not on the menu, but you look like you could use a pick-me-up. We’ll make some special.”

While Rhonda went to get their drinks, Wynne glanced over the menu. She heard an intake of breath from Simon and glanced up. Simon’s gaze was fixed on something behind her. She turned to see a man approaching their table.

“It’s Alan, Amanda’s brother,” Simon muttered.

The navy suit he wore stretched too tightly across his massive shoulders and looked out of place among the jean-clad patrons of the café. His face was set and strained.

Wynne glanced back at Simon and saw the resignation in his face. Alan stopped at their table. Simon’s face was closed and tight. Wynne could almost hear a palpable intake of breath from everyone in the room. It might have been her imagination, but she sensed the
men lean forward to listen to the oncoming confrontation. From the look on Alan’s face, this wasn’t going to be a pleasant chat.

“I just came from your office,” Alan said.

“Oh?” Simon glanced around. “Maybe we should take this discussion outside.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Alan sneered. “You’d like no one to know what a murdering skunk you are.”

“Simmer down, Alan.” Simon half stood, and Alan shoved him back in his chair.

“I already called the sheriff, so don’t think you can weasel out of this.” Alan’s face worked, and his mouth twisted. “You’re going to pay for what you did to Amanda. And your own cousin as well! What kind of monster are you?”

“I’m just an ordinary man,” Simon said, his voice weary. He rubbed his forehead. “Sit down, Alan, and we can talk.”

“You might poison my coffee.” Alan clenched his massive hands, big as boulders.

“Please, Alan.” Wynne stood and spoke in her softest voice. She’d found lowering her voice when others raised theirs tended to diffuse some anger. The verse in Proverbs about a soft answer turning away wrath was very true. “Sit down.”

“Did you plan this with him?” Alan’s voice lowered a notch.

Wynne reached out and patted his hand. He snatched it away. “Sit down and tell us what you’re angry about.” For a moment she thought he would
continue to stand and bellow, then he heaved a sigh and grabbed the back of the chair and jerked it out.

He plopped down and folded his hands over his chest. He directed his gaze at Simon. “Did you think no one would find out?”

“Find out what?”

Wynne thought she detected dread in Simon’s voice, and she stared at him. An uneasy feeling started in her stomach. She remembered the sheriff had asked Simon about an argument he had with Amanda the day before she and Jerry disappeared. Her gaze swung back to Alan.

“Why you killed her.”

“I didn’t kill her, Alan.”

There seemed to be a lack of conviction in Simon’s voice. Wynne had her suspicions about Simon’s feelings for his fiancée. She’d wondered if he’d been relieved when he thought Amanda had run off with Jerry.

Her gaze traveled to Simon. His stony face made her heart sink. She looked down at her hands. Though she wasn’t sure if she could trust him or not, she wasn’t about to incite Alan to more anger. Better to say nothing.

Simon forced himself to stay in his seat even though the accusation in Wynne’s face made him feel like walking away. He couldn’t deny he was disappointed in her. He had hoped she’d begun to know him well enough to know he wouldn’t murder anyone. He took a gulp of coffee and burned his tongue.

He set down his coffee cup then looked up to meet Alan’s angry glare. “You’re right, Alan. Wynne is the
one who found the boat. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking as hard as I was able. I want to prove my innocence.”

“That will be a trick after what I found out.” Alan’s voice was taunting.

“I suppose you found out your sister stole from me,” he said quietly. Wynne gasped, and Alan’s face reddened even more.

“You just wanted out of the engagement so you fabricated a lie.”

“Why would I want out of the engagement? Our wedding was in a month.” Simon hadn’t wanted to think about that last day and certainly hadn’t wanted to talk about it. He wished he could hide it in a closet in his mind and never open the door.

“Amanda wouldn’t lie.”

Simon looked at Wynne. He wanted her to believe him, needed her to trust him. “Amanda was my accountant, that’s how we met. I had no reason not to trust her, but I’d received an audit notice from the IRS. I called an accountant on the mainland to review the books. He found over a hundred thousand dollars had been embezzled and traced it back to Amanda.”

Alan was shaking his head as Simon talked. “Amanda wouldn’t do something like that.”

“She admitted it,” Simon said. The memory swept over him.

Amanda wore a yellow sundress that showed off her tanned legs and arms. Her long blond hair
cascaded to her waist, but Simon barely noticed her beauty now that he knew what the shapely exterior covered
.

“Come in,” he said. Amanda paused in the doorway of his office. The pounding of riveters made him wince. “Shut the door,” he said
.

“This sounds serious.” She pranced in on stiletto sandals. Once she was seated in the chair across from his desk, she crossed one shapely leg over the other and gave him a bewitching smile
.

Simon’s lungs squeezed. “The report came back from the auditor’s, Amanda. There’s money missing.” Would she admit she did it? He hoped she would. Maybe he could forgive her if she had a good reason for it
.

Amanda’s blue eyes widened. “You’re kidding. A clerical error maybe?
”

“No, no error. It’s been embezzled. And Ben traced it back to you. Why would you steal from me, Amanda? I’d give you anything you asked.” He waved toward the obscenely huge diamond she wore. “You wanted a fancy diamond, and I got it. You wanted a house overlooking Lake Superior and it will be done by our wedding. What possible reason could you have for this?
”

At last Amanda’s smile faltered. “You don’t believe him, do you? You should know I wouldn’t do that.
”

Simon leaned his face on his hands. “Amanda, he’s got bank records. Don’t lie to me anymore.
”

Tears filled her eyes, and her lips trembled. “I’m
sorry, Simon.” She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap. “It was for us, for our future.”

“What are you talking about?”

She told him what she’d used the money for, and rage began to burn in his belly. A sour taste backed up in his throat. “I see.”

“I’m tired of having to ask a man for what I want. Just for once I wanted to be able to buy what I want when I want it and not answer to anyone.” She lifted her chin and stared into his face. “Maybe I wouldn’t even have to marry you if I had money of my own
.”

Something fragile inside him finally shattered with the defiance in her face. She didn’t love him—she never had. “I see.” He stood and went to stare out the window. From here he could see a hint of blue that was Lake Superior. He whirled around. “Then go! Make all the money you want. You’re free of me.”

She stood with her hand pressed to her heart. “Are you pressing charges?”

“I doubt I’ll have much choice. The IRS is going to look at the books.”

“You have to fix this somehow, Simon. Please. For the sake of all we meant to one another.”

“What did we mean to one another, Amanda? I thought we had something special and now I find you just wanted my money. How do you think that makes me feel?” He still wasn’t sure what he felt. He was numb.

“You’d better listen up, Simon. If I go down, you go down.”

“What do you mean?” He felt too sluggish to be able to follow her.

“I’ll implicate you, too. I’ll say you had me do it, that this is something we cooked up together.
”

“For what purpose? The money was mine already.
”

“To cheat the IRS of taxes.” She gave a self-satisfied smile. “Fix it, Simon.”

“So you can live high on the hog?
”

“Don’t let jealousy get in the way of your good sense.” She turned and rushed to the door and threw it open. “You’ll be sorry if you dump me,” she declared shrilly. “I’ll still see you at the altar. If you don’t show up, I’ll tell the world how you made me do it.”

She spoke loudly enough that he knew his receptionist had to have heard it. Bonnie had been with him for years, though, and she’d never liked Amanda. Wild horses couldn’t drag this conversation out of her
.

He watched Amanda run down the hall. Her sobs echoed back through the open door. He heard the door slam, and with the sound, his heart broke
.

Alan’s voice brought him back to the present. “You’re not going to drag my sister’s name through the mud.”

“Amanda wasn’t the darling you thought her,” Simon said gently. He’d barely gotten the words out when Alan leaped to his feet and charged at him. The other man’s bulk tipped Simon’s chair over, and he crashed to the ground with Alan on top of him. He thrashed and managed to throw Alan off, then jumped up.

Wynne sprang between them. She put her hands on Alan’s chest. “Sit down, Alan.” Her voice was like a schoolmarm’s, all authority and command. Alan tried to step around her, but she blocked him again. “You said the sheriff is on his way. Let him sort this out.”

Just what Simon didn’t want.