Foiled (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Seven) Page 5
Belinda nodded, pretending to take that all in. And, truly, the first two theories piqued her curiosity. “I see. What do you think?”
She inhaled, letting it out slowly while figuring out her answer. “He wasn’t depressed. The other two?” She shrugged. “Who knows, right? An older guy falling down the stairs…it happens sometimes.”
Belinda found the seriousness of the younger woman’s face startling. She was taking the murder suggestion seriously. And Belinda had a feeling there was a good reason why. Before she could start probing for an answer, the door flew open, and Belinda bolted forward.
The Warden took up the entire door frame, glowering down at Belinda. “What are you doing in here?”
“She was upset, so I came over to–”
“Upset?” Hall snapped. “Who’s upset?” The words were directed to the young woman. “We have a job to do. Now get to it!” The Warden stormed out, the stairs creaking as she barreled downstairs.
Belinda swiveled back around, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble…”
The young woman sat up straight and stiff, wiping the remaining tears from her face. “It’s not your fault.” She stood, coming over to Belinda and looking her square in the eye. “Just keep your head down while you’re here, okay? This will all be over soon…” Her eyes drifted away on the last part. After one forced smile, she left, her face a neutral mask as she walked out.
Belinda shuffled back to her storage room, now thoroughly intrigued. What was going on in this place to make everybody act like this? Were they just jittery because their employer died suddenly? Or was there more to it?
She looked around at the papers and magazines and straightened up, a renewed zeal for her job taking over.
She filled bag after bag in record time, then cautiously started testing the floorboards to see if any were loose. Then she opened the cabinets at the bottom of a wall-sized bookcase (also stuffed with magazines) and started shoving the papers (and videotapes labeled with old TV shows) in trash bags as well. But her hoped-for hiding spot never materialized.
Belinda hauled bag after bag out to the Dumpsters set up around the house, just to have enough room to throw out more. By the time lunch rolled around, she was hot, voracious, and dirty. After washing her hands, she grabbed her lunch from the kitchen fridge and met Bennett outside under a shade tree away from the house. She inhaled the fresh air as she sat, birds chirping and squirrels racing from tree to tree in the woods beyond them.
Bennett was dirt-stained, his blue shirt sticking to his chest, his hair matted around his face from sweat. His black-framed glasses had vanished. She sat near him, not caring if her ugly pants got grass stained. “What have you been up to?” she asked, unwrapping her sandwich.
His answer sounded something like, “Clwahed.” He finally swallowed and said, “Cleaning the shed.”
Belinda nodded. That explained the dirty.
He studied her a second, a glint in his gray eyes. “How have you been doing?”
She shrugged, unsure why that amused him. She knew she looked awful but was too hungry and hot to care at that point. “I’ve cleared out most of the room, including the shelves,” she said before she dove into her sandwich.
Bennett’s eyebrows arched. “I’m impressed.”
“I don’t have to sort it.” That would’ve been a whole other scenario. “What’s in the shed?” Belinda imagined all the spiders and bugs that had probably taken over. In hindsight, she was grateful for the newspaper mountains.
“Old rusting tools, tarps, rotting wood, old concrete that’s useless, loads of coffee containers full of nails and screws, and a lot of other useless junk.”
Belinda half smiled, picturing Bennett’s organized–and clean–garage. They’d already decided not to discuss their business on the property, just in case, though Belinda was dying to ask if he’d gotten anywhere. Her hopes about the storage room were falling apart as she neared the end. Maybe Lawson was just a pack rat.
She took the short time they had to just enjoy her food and the breeze that rustled the trees and unmanicured grass around them. Bennett leaned his head back on the tree, munching on his chips. It was a little awkward having to keep their distance and act like indifferent colleagues, and Belinda was at a loss about what to say.
Bennett seemed fine with it, which shouldn’t have surprised her.
Their thirty minutes wrapped fast, and they packed up their lunch remnants and stood, brushing off grass and dirt. “Guess I’ll see you later,” Belinda ventured, wishing she could do or say more.
“Yeah…I’ll meet you out front.” Bennett glanced around, then gave her a wink before hiking back to the shed.
Belinda smiled to herself, then ran back inside to use the bathroom before she ran out of break time. As she washed her hands, she saw what amused Bennett so much. She had black ink all over her face. She sighed, shutting her eyes a moment, then did her best to rub the worst of it off. Then she hustled back upstairs and finished cleaning out the storage room, earning an eyebrow raise from the Warden, which she took as praise.
She didn’t find a secret cubby or loose floorboard hideaway or ever see the young woman who was crying again. She did, however, need to be hosed down.
They finished their quota in the late afternoon and Bennett accelerated out of the driveway, toward their inn. Apparently, he was just as relieved to be finished.
“I think I’m spoiled,” Belinda said, cranking up the van’s AC. “I really can’t wait until this part of the job is over.”
Bennett slowly met her eyes when he came to a stop sign, his lips curving up in a smile.
Belinda narrowed her eyes, glowering at him. “Just. Keep. Driving.”
Chapter 10
After checking into the inn and showering–the most wonderful feeling she’d had all day–she crashed on her bed, waiting for Bennett to finish so they could go eat.
A light tap on her door forced her to her feet finally, every muscle crying out as she straightened up. So, she could only imagine what she’d feel like the next morning.
Bennett slipped in quietly since they didn’t want anyone to think they knew each other well. He’d cleaned up too, the edges of his hair still damp. The glasses had returned, which she was still getting used to. Before she could say anything, he crushed her lips to his, his fingers digging into her hair. “I hate having to pretend I don’t know you,” he said when he finally released her.
A little surprised, Belinda searched his face for joking, but it wasn’t there. He was perfectly serious. “You seemed okay at lunch.”
“So did you.”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
“Neither was I.”
Belinda smiled, satisfied he also hated that part of the job and draped her arms around his neck. “Tell me what happened on your end. Did you learn anything?”
The way his mouth slanted to the side, she had a feeling the answer wasn’t positive. “As I told you, the shed was full of junk. The guy left in charge of telling me what to do with everything was like a scared rabbit. He actually jumped once when I asked him a question. Maybe he was just nervous about doing his job, but he seemed more spooked than anxious. What about you? Did you turn up anything good in the magazine room?”
Belinda shook her head. “No. But I did talk to one young woman who works there. She sounded like she took the murder rumor seriously. But there are also rumors going around that Lawson was depressed or had a terminal illness of some sort. The woman I talked to was also acting odd, but not scared necessarily. She did say everyone’s nervous because of the death.”
“Nervous I understand.” Bennett tightened his grip on her waist. “They all need new jobs now, so I’m not surprised if everyone is tense. But this guy wasn’t worried about his job.”
“Maybe some of them are afraid there’s a murderer running around the place.”
“Could be. Though I doubt they’d bother killing one of the employees after all this.”
Bennett smirked. “She doesn’t look like the feeling type to me.”
“Me either. But considering the circumstances, I’m guessing she’s trying to suppress more than just someone’s grief over losing an employer.”
Bennett raised an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating there’s a conspiracy going on?”
“I don’t know about that. But I do think it’s weird nobody can talk about it.”
“I agree with that. It might be easier to get more info tomorrow.” He let her go, stepping back. “For now, though, I wanted to ask you out to dinner.”
“Finally!” She rolled her eyes. “I’m starving!”
“No, I mean tomorrow night. I wanted to know if you’d like to go out tomorrow.”
Her face fell. “We don’t get to eat tonight?”
“Of course we do. I just…I wanted to make plans for tomorrow.” He hung back, his face taut and voice edgy.
Belinda watched him, thinking she was too tired for this. “Now?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, despite the strained expression he wore, shifting his weight. “I thought we could go somewhere nicer tomorrow. And with all this going on, I figured I should let you know tonight.”
Belinda blinked, confused, but she couldn’t process right then. So, she switched to playful mode, not liking how weird things suddenly felt. “Bennett Tate, are you asking me out?” She batted her lashes, listing her head coyly.
Bennett’s shoulders sagged a little, though his eyes still looked tense. “Yes…yes, I am. I know asking out coworkers is frowned on, but I just can’t resist.”
Belinda suppressed a smile. He was obviously trying to play along, but he didn’t sound that relaxed. “Well, I was impressed with your driving skills today. So, I’ll take you up on that.”
He nodded stiffly, forcing a half smile. “Then I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Belinda nodded, closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, she realized how tight all her muscles felt–and not from the marathon cleaning that day. She breathed out, closing her eyes a minute. “That was weird,” she muttered, checking herself in the mirror (startled–again–by her red hair) and grabbing her handbag. Her last thought before she ran out the door was how grateful she was to Victoria for forcing her to bring a dress.
~ * ~
Unfortunately, the weirdness continued through dinner as they struggled to create small talk as two indifferent colleagues. On the positive side, Belinda thought that might work in their favor. After all, two people who barely know each other might seem uncomfortable sharing a table.
Despite how much her shoulders and legs ached the next morning, Belinda dragged herself up early for day two of cleaning out Henry Lawson’s swill. All she could say was it was a good thing they were getting paid to investigate.
That day, there was a team of them cleaning, not just Belinda and Bennett. It gave Belinda more chances to slip around. She wanted to find the young woman again but never came across her. And when she asked another staff member about her, she got a confused look and a shrug before he shuffled on.
Still, she had a better grasp now of the layout of the house and managed to casually land closer to Henry’s private rooms in a different wing, including his bedroom and what looked like a study. It was shockingly empty in that part of the house. No staff members hustled to and fro carrying boxes and crates. No cleanup crews hauled out bags of trash. It was quiet and pristine–like everything had just been dusted and vacuumed.
Belinda tiptoed across the dark wood floors, sure the Warden would pop out of a room any moment and kick her out. She could play dumb, but she had a feeling there would be no second chance after that. When no one appeared, she peeked around the doors and chose to peruse the study first.
The drapes were drawn, a heavy-set desk stuck in the middle of the room with nothing on top but a container full of pens. Everything was so…in place…that Belinda was scared to touch anything. Surely, someone would realize it had been tampered with.
And though she wanted to rummage through the drawers in the desk and peek behind the books on the surrounding shelves, she couldn’t help but feel that the stillness of it all was a clue in itself. Would the man who had a whole room dedicated to decades-old magazines and newspapers keep his study this untouched?
Maybe. It was possible he kept his mess in other parts of the house while his study and other private rooms remained in order.
That didn’t mean Belinda was casting off suspicion.
Footsteps in the hall made her jump, her heart missing a beat. Glancing around in panic, she moved the desk chair enough to squeeze underneath, rolling it back where she’d found it. Then she stayed perfectly still, listening for any sounds in the hallway. It was quiet. Much quieter than she felt it should be if someone was just coming up to get something. Even her breathing sounded too loud.
The door creaked–then immediately stopped. Belinda held her breath, straining to hear anything other than her own heart thudding. Her hands and knees pressed into the Persian rug, stinging from the rough bristles. But she hardly noticed, every sense reaching in the direction of the door.
After minutes seemed to pass, she heard footsteps again, fading into the distance. Belinda finally let out a slow breath but was still afraid to move or leave her hiding spot.
After waiting and listening for what felt like an age, Belinda finally convinced herself that it was safe to come out. But she crawled out cautiously, slowly getting up on her feet again. No one was in the hallway, so Belinda quietly hurried out, slipping back to her post before anyone noticed.
On the other hand, maybe someone already noticed. Unless somebody just heard her and went to investigate, it was odd that they should peek into that room specifically and then just turn and leave–as if they had no other reason for being there.
A shiver ran along her spine and she quickened her pace. Something was amok in that house and with Henry Lawson’s death. Even if it was an accident, something was still wrong. And she was going to figure out what it was.
Chapter 11
Admittedly, that fright made Belinda more aware of everyone and everything around her the rest of the day. Bennett immediately knew something was up and forced her to come out with it on the way back to the inn.
She brushed it off as her wild imagination. Bennett’s lips curved down; and inside, Belinda could still conjure the distinct feeling that someone had been looking in that room on purpose. As if they knew she might be there. It made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
As she stared at her reflection in the mirror later, pretending to check to make sure her dress was in place and her hair stayed in its bun, she could only think about crouching under the desk, feeling certain she might be about to meet her doom.
Belinda sighed, hoping she could be mentally present for dinner that night. She wasn’t sure why Bennett made such a formal thing out of asking her out, but she didn’t want to be in la-la land regardless.
She’d been threatened, scared, and backed into a corner more than she liked to remember. What made this feeling any different?
It wasn’t different. But, yet, it was.
Something was different about this case. She could just feel it.
Still, tonight she wanted to let it go.
Bennett met her in the hall, and she still did a double take seeing him in those glasses. And he’d gone the extra step and worn an untucked plaid button-down shirt and black Converse sneakers with jeans.
Belinda couldn’t help smiling at Alternate Universe Bennett. Somehow, in another life, she thought it could work for him. And she almost forgave the girl she saw flirting with h
im during lunchtime at Lawson’s house. After all, he was awfully cute in those glasses.
On the other hand, the girl would pay dearly if she kept it up.
He smiled in return, his eyes swiping over her appreciatively. And she had to silently thank Victoria again.
“You look good,” he said, digging his hands in his pockets. Oddly enough, it was almost like they didn’t know each that well, what with the disguises and pretending not to know each other business. To the point that moments like this were kind of awkward.
Again, Belinda figured that worked in their favor.
Bennett waved a hand in front of him for her to go first, and Belinda brushed past him, wishing she didn’t have to hide how cute she thought he looked.
Southwood was mostly residential, so there weren’t many places to eat. But Bennett had managed to scrounge up a local restaurant not far from where they were staying. It had a nice atmosphere, even if it wasn’t fancy, and they got a relatively private table in a back corner.
Bennett held the chair out for her and ordered wine, and it strangely felt like a first date. In some ways, it reminded her of their date at La Lune about a year ago. She just hoped she didn’t set the table on fire again.
Candlelight flickered across Bennett’s glasses, laughter from across the restaurant drifting their way. But they had that corner to themselves, and though they had to be careful and not give away how well they knew each other, Belinda started to loosen up and enjoy herself.
And Bennett seemed to as well. He joked with her more, as if the fake identity freed him to respond to her differently. She wasn’t sure if she was any different but talking and laughing with Bennett drowned out her concerns from earlier.
While they sipped coffee and took their time with dessert, Bennett related a story from his days working at a frozen lemonade truck as a teen. Belinda laughed, almost unconcerned with the chocolate mousse in front of her. Almost. Bennett’s eyes glittered in the light as he smiled in return as if her reaction made the story funnier to him.