Hoaley Ill-Manored (16 page)

“He’s already had a ride in the truck.” Adam
said, reaching for Edgar’s hand. “His favorite thing. Good morning,
sir.”

“Edgar clasped Adam’s hand in both of his.
“How are you, son?”

Adam turned to Teddy, speaking through a
clenched jaw. “I’ve been better. What are you doing here,
Worth?”

Edgar cleared his throat and Teddy glanced
his way.

“He’s here on my account, Adam.” Edgar
looked slightly uncomfortable. “I know you need that plot
plan…”

“Have you spoken to Detective Clandestine?”
Adam ignored Edgar, addressing Teddy.

“No. What does he want?”

Adam scrawled CC’s cell phone number on the
corner of a piece of paper lying on the table, tearing it off and
handing it to Worth. “You need to contact him right away. He has
some questions for you.”

Frowning, Teddy stood up. “If this is about
the fire…”

“It’s not about the fire. Now, if you’ll
please leave my house. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ever
come back.” Adam’s muscles ached from the effort to refrain from
hitting the man. His heart beat hard against his ribs, his ears
ringing from the spike in his blood pressure. But he held on,
knowing he could manage restraint if it meant putting Worth behind
bars where he belonged.

Teddy stared at Adam for a long moment, his
shoulders rigid. Then he reached out and dropped a folded square of
dingy yellow paper onto the table. “I promised Mr. Reeves I’d give
you this, Hoale. He said it was the neighborly thing to do. I’m
doing it for him. Not you.” He inclined his head to Edgar, shot
Adam a last unreadable look, and then headed out.

Adam glanced at Edgar, saw the worry in the
old man’s gaze, and nodded. “Thank you for this.” He indicated the
plot plan.

Edgar inclined his head. “I don’t like to
see disagreements fester between two good men.”

Adam’s eyebrows lifted. He’d thought Edgar
was a better judge of character. Trying to calm down before sitting
at the table, Adam grabbed a bottle of water. “Maddy will be here
soon. She stopped at that little coffee shop in town for coffee,
tea, and pastries.”

“That sounds lovely.” Then apparently
wanting to change the subject, Edgar nodded toward the cabinets and
said, “I like this color.”

Utilizing Edgar’s memories of the place as a
child, and from when he’d been employed there, Maddy and Edgar had
agreed on a warm French country green for the cabinets. “I do too.
I think it’ll work really well with the natural stone and metal
elements in here.”

Edgar nodded again. They sat in silence for
a moment, an unaccustomed tension between them. Finally, Adam
couldn’t help asking, “Do you really believe Teddy Worth is a good
man?”

Edgar’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Why, yes. Don’t you?”

Adam looked away, unsure he wanted to taint
the other man’s impression of a young man he’d probably known from
his infancy. “I have my doubts.”

“Why?”

“Did you hear what happened last night?”

“I did. I’m very sorry about your…friend.
Will he be all right?”

“Yeah. Eventually. Hopefully there’s no
permanent damage.” Other than residual fear, Adam couldn’t help
thinking. “I believe Teddy might have had something to do with
it.”

“Oh no!”

“And the fire the other night.”

Edgar was shaking his head. “You’re way off
base, Adam. Teddy Worth is nothing like his father.”

“He lied to me about being here the night of
the fire.”

Edgar frowned. “Well, that’s not acceptable
of course. But if Teddy lied to you he had a good reason.”

“What reason, Edgar? What could he possibly
have had to do here that night, because I know he was here?”

Edgar started to speak and then seemed to
think better of it. “You’ll need to ask him, son. Just promise me
you won’t jump to conclusions. Teddy’s worked long and hard to get
out from under the shadow of his father. From everything I’ve seen
he’s done a good job of it.”

“Where is his father? Does anyone know?”

The old man looked at Adam. “What did Teddy
tell you?

“He said his dad walked away from them years
ago. I didn’t get the impression he’s spoken to him since.”

Edgar nodded. “I’m not surprised. The man
liked his drink too much and was mean with it.”

“There you are!” Maddy swept into the room
carrying a cardboard carrier with four cups in it. Her face was
such a study in cheerfulness it hurt Adam to look at it. Bud
brought up the rear holding two large paper bags. Kissing Edgar on
the cheek, Maddy handed him one of the cups. “English breakfast,
your favorite.” She handed Adam a tall cup that nearly burned his
hand. “Tall and black, like the man I just passed in the
driveway.”

Adam shook his head.

“We brought bagels and cream cheese, cherry
Danish, and muffins.”

Maddy spun around to get plates and Adam
grabbed her arm. “Mads…”

She stopped, took a deep, shuddering breath,
and crumpled against him, her overly energetic cheerfulness
crumpling with her. “Oh god, Adam. He looked horrible.”

“I know, honey. It’s okay to cry. Go ahead
and get it out.”

She sobbed against Adam’s chest, Bud handing
her paper napkins every couple of minutes, until she got it out of
her system. Finally, she pushed away, laughing at herself and
sniffling. “You need to take that shirt off and wring it out.”

Adam smoothed a hand over her silky hair.
“It’ll dry. I’m not so sure about you though.” He grinned and she
laughed.

“I’m sorry I was such a mess. I think I
terrified poor Dirk.”

“Dirk’s fine. He knows he looks bad, but the
doctor assured me he looks worse than he is.”

Her eyes widened. “You talked to the
doctor?”

“Before I left. The swelling is going down
and he can talk some so she expects a full recovery.”

“Oh thank gawd!” She pecked Adam on the
cheek. “Okay, I’m done with the waterworks. Edgar and I have work
to do.”

Adam left her to work on the design plans
with Edgar and headed back out. Mink was standing outside with his
cell phone attached to his ear. Adam lifted an eyebrow in question
when he heard Mink addressing Bobby. The only Bobby Adam knew was
the Bobby from Bobby’s Gym.

Mink’s gaze slid guiltily away and he walked
a couple of steps farther out, lowering his voice. He disconnected
a moment later and Adam crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at
the secretive realtor. “All right, Mink, you win. I’m asking. What
the hell are you doing at Bobby’s? I know you’re not working out.
And all these secretive calls to Bobby are starting to tickle my
curiosity bone. Give it up.”

Mink’s smile was more than a little sly. “I
have no idea what you’re talking about. I
have
been working
out. Zeke is whipping me into shape.”

Adam slid a speculative gaze over Mink’s
runway model slim physique and grinned. “Uh-huh.”

Mink’s eyebrows folded together, but his
pretty eyes sparkled with pleasure at Adam’s interest. “I am,
look.” He bent a skinny arm at the elbow and lifted a spiky brow in
question. “See that Popeye arm?”

“More like Olive Oil. Why won’t you tell me
what you’re doing?”

“I will. But I don’t want to jinx it. As
soon as I can, I’ll tell all you guys.”

Adam shook his head, guessing he’d have to
live with that. The sound of classical music suddenly wafted
through the air and Adam looked at Mink. Mink cocked his head,
“Classical? Really, Adam? Have you met me?”

“Yeah. Right. Well, it’s not my phone. He
patted the front pocket of his jeans. His and Mink’s gazes slipped
upward and Adam realized the sound was coming from Dirk’s second
story room. The window was still open. “Dirk’s phone!” Adam turned
and ran into the house, taking the stairs two at a time and
bursting into the room.

Studiously avoiding looking at the crooked
fixture in the ceiling, Adam scanned the room and quickly found
Dirk’s phone lying on the floor beside his cot. It stopped ringing
just as he reached it.

Reaching down, Adam resisted the urge to
look at recent calls to see who was trying to reach Dirk. He had a
pretty good idea already who it probably was.

He started to slip it into his pocket,
intending to take it to Dirk at the hospital later. But the
classical music started up again. Adam looked at the ID on the
screen and grimaced. But he felt responsible for Dirk’s near death
experience and he didn’t want Dirk to lose a career over it,
so…

“Franklin, this is Adam Hoale.”

Silence met his greeting. “Why are you
answering Dirk’s phone?”

“I’m afraid there’s been an accident.” As
soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Being hung from
the ceiling was hardly an accident. His mind started to spin over
how to answer the obvious follow-up question.

“What happened? Is he all right?”

And there it was.

Adam wanted to say something flip and hang
up on the producer, but the man sounded genuinely alarmed and Adam
just didn’t have it in him. Besides, he couldn’t quite shake the
memory of Spence’s earnest declaration to Dirk the night before.
Adam was painfully aware of how the man felt. “He’ll be fine, but
he’s in the hospital. I’ll let him fill you in when he can. He’s
having a bit of trouble talking right now, which is why I thought I
should pick up your call and let you know he can’t meet you today.
It’s not that he’s blowing you off…”

“Of course, of course. I’ll take a later
flight. Thank you for letting me know, Ads.”

“No!” Adam’s fist clenched and his face went
hot. “Don’t call me that! Dirk’s the only one…” Adam’s voice
cracked and he hung up. He paced Dirk’s room for several moments,
trying to ignore the terror he felt at the idea of Franklin Spence
running to Dirk’s side. The man was wealthy and used to getting his
own way. Chances were good Dirk would find himself on a plane
flying away from Adam within the hour, heading to a place where
money was no object and he’d get the best care available in the
world.

Adam felt faint at the thought. Though he
certainly didn’t want to deny that care for Dirk, he couldn’t
embrace the obvious result of Dirk’s leaving either.

He grew more agitated by the minute. He had
to do something to distract himself. His heart pounded and stars
burst before his eyes. Over the last twenty-four hours he’d found
his lover again, been filled with hope for a better future
together, and then nearly lost Dirk in just about every way he
could lose him. He realized, along with the fear and the horror of
what had happened to Dirk, Adam was suffering from relationship
whiplash.

The human psyche just wasn’t meant to cover
that wide a range of strong emotions in such a short period of
time. His head was spinning and his body fizzed under the need to
fix something, anything that was going wrong in his life. Finally,
his gaze slid toward the hole in the wall and the rough rope ladder
hanging inside.

Action. That’s what he needed. He had to do
something or he’d lose his mind. With a sense of determination
bordering on manic need, Adam stalked from the room and headed
upstairs. To the attic.

Halfway there, he changed his mind and went
downstairs, to the kitchen. “Mads, do we have any of those thin
latex gloves you use for staining?”

She barely looked up from the design plan.
“Under the sink. There’s a box full of them.”

“Thanks.” Adam grabbed a couple and headed
back upstairs.

The lidded wooden box was just the way
they’d left it, minus the coil of rope and the daisy. CC had those
and was hopefully questioning Teddy Worth about them. Adam slipped
the gloves over his hands and then lifted the carefully folded
blanket out of the trunk and started going through everything in
the box. It was obviously an old box. The wood smelled sour with
age, reminding him of the way that cabin in the woods had
smelled.

He pulled out the boots, the bottle of
water, and an old hunting knife, whose edge was surprisingly sharp.
The knife might be old but it had been sharpened recently. Probably
used to cut a length of rope, Adam mused. He wondered if a lab
could get any prints or even some evidence of what the knife had
cut lately off the knife. He set it aside, on top of the blanket.
There was a half burnt, white candle sitting on a chipped ceramic
plate at the bottom of the box, along with a couple of boxes of
matches. Adam wished real life could be like a mystery novel. If
so, the name of the place where his killer hung out would be
printed on the boxes of matches and he could just follow them to
his guy. But no such luck. The matches were generic, looking as if
they’d come from a supermarket.

Alongside the candle was one of those
instant cooking things, a thermal device that campers used for
heating up coffee and canned goods. And tucked into a corner was a
small flashlight. Adam tested it and found the light weak. The
batteries were probably shot.

Though he emptied the whole box, placing
each item carefully on the floor beside the blanket, Adam was
disappointed not to have found anything that would lead him
directly to the guy who’d tried to kill Dirk. With a sigh, he
started replacing the items in the box, except for the knife. He
intended to carry that downstairs and put it into a bag to give to
CC when the detective came back.

He set the knife aside and picked up the
blanket. That was when he realized it was stiffer than it should
have been. Laying it in his lap, Adam carefully unwrapped the rough
wool, having to completely unfold it before he uncovered the
treasure at its core.

A small, age-yellowed rectangle of canvas
lay in the center of the blanket, the image on its surface turning
Adam’s bowels to liquid. It was a drawing of a dark haired man
wearing old-fashioned clothing. He was hanging by the neck from the
ceiling of a place that bore an uncomfortable resemblance to the
cabin in the woods. The figure’s head hung at an odd angle, a spike
of straight, dark hair drooping over his features, and his limbs
were limp with death.