Authors: Barbara Freethy
As they walked toward the car, she saw Tony now standing by the white van parked directly behind Max's sedan. He gave them a nod. "How did it go? Did you find out anything?"
She shrugged. "Not really."
"I've been thinking about who might not like Sister Margaret," Tony said. And it suddenly came to me—Mrs. Harbough."
"Why would you say that?" She glanced at Max but saw nothing but disdain in his eyes. He was obviously not going to take anything Tony had to say seriously. "Mrs. Harbough is quite distraught over Sister Margaret's death. They were roommates."
"Well, I heard they were more than
roommates
," Tony said with a gleam in his eyes.
"Do you have any facts to support that?" Max asked sharply.
"No, but the rumor has been going around town for a while. I thought I should mention it."
"Thanks, Tony," she said quickly, sensing that she needed to put some distance between Tony and Max. "We'll look into that angle."
Max rolled his eyes and walked over to the car.
"That old broad in there has some secrets," Tony said to Emma before she left. "I know I'm not as smart as you are, Emma, but I spent a lot of time in the office waiting to see the principal and I heard some very interesting conversations between Mrs. Harbough and other people."
"That was a long time ago, Tony."
"People don't change."
"I'll talk to you later. And I won't forget about dinner," she said cutting him off before he could remind her. "As soon as I get this case wrapped up."
Max was waiting for her in the car. As she fastened her seatbelt, she saw Max looking in the rearview mirror at the van parked behind them.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Just wondering how many chemicals or accelerants might be in the back of that van."
"Now you want to make Tony the arsonist?" she asked. "He's painting the classroom. And that's not even his van. It belongs to his boss."
"There's something about that guy I don't like. He's too…"
"Handsome? Sexy?" she offered.
He shot her a dark look. "Seriously? You like that type?"
"Most women see Tony that way. He has quite a reputation in the neighborhood."
Max shook his head. "I don't get it."
She could see why Max didn't get Tony's charm, because Max was a more serious kind of guy, and she didn't think Tony had been serious a day in his life. "I know you'd like to discredit anything Tony has to say, but what do you think of his suggestion that Sister Margaret and Ruth Harbough were lovers?"
"I asked Mrs. Harbough that question when Margaret first disappeared."
"Are you kidding me?" she asked in astonishment. "I cannot believe you got that question out of your mouth."
"I had to consider the possibility there had been some sort of domestic quarrel. Mrs. Harbough told me that they were platonic friends, and that she was horrified I would ask the question. She said both she and Margaret were extremely religious women and that type of relationship would go against everything they believed in. She was very disappointed in me for assuming that two women couldn't share an apartment as friends."
"It would seem unlikely that they'd be anything else," Emma said. "Mrs. Harbough was married at some point."
"While she was in her early twenties. I checked. She has a son, Jeffrey, who went to live with his father when he was twelve years old."
"That's weird," she said. "How old is the son now? I wonder why I've never heard of him."
"He's thirty-four now."
"So five years older than me," she murmured. "Maybe I wasn't paying attention, but I don't remember ever seeing him around the school."
"He spent most of his time with his father in San Jose."
"You did do your research," she said. "I'm impressed."
"Did you think I'd been sitting on my hands the last ten days?"
"Hard to say since you rarely share what you've been doing," she retorted.
"At any rate, Mrs. Harbough is way down on my list of suspects," he said.
"I didn't realize we had a list of suspects," she said dryly. "But just for the purpose of discussion, why are you ruling her out?"
"Because Margaret's death is tied to the fires, and I don't see Mrs. Harbough as our arsonist. Do you?"
"I can't say definitively no, but she doesn't fit the profile. And she's a small woman. Margaret had at least fifty pounds on her. I don't know how Ruth could have kidnapped her, hidden her away or left her body at the bar. Although, she could have had help, so I can't rule her out. And even though she said she isn't a lesbian, how could we prove it?" She groaned and pressed her fingers to her temples. "My head is starting to hurt."
"I know what you mean. I've been going around the same circles for days."
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her purse.
"Ex-boyfriend again?" Max asked.
"No, it's a realtor friend of mine. I've been trying to get in to see an apartment the last few days, and she said it's available now if I can get there in the next twenty minutes." She glanced over at Max. "How do you feel about a side trip to the Marina?"
"Why are you looking at an apartment?"
"Since I broke up with Jon, I've been living with my parents, and I need to move on."
"Gotcha."
"If I go all the way back to work and get my car, I probably won't make it in time." She gave him a pleading smile.
"Fine, I'll take you."
"I'll owe you one."
He grinned. "And I will collect."
Chapter Ten
The apartment Emma wanted to look at was in a Victorian building in the Marina District. The Marina was at the north end of the city and very close to the Golden Gate Bridge, which connected the North Bay to San Francisco. It was one of the more desirable neighborhoods in the city, and it took several trips around the block to find a parking space.
"You must make more than I do if you can afford this," Max said as they got out of the car.
"The building is under rent control, so the apartment is a steal. My friend, who's a realtor, is trying to get me in before it gets listed as a rental."
"I hope your apartment comes with a garage," he said as he squeezed the sedan into a narrow spot.
"It does. I would go crazy looking for parking every night."
He followed her up the stairs to the third floor. The apartment door was open, and they stepped inside. The living room was completely empty, but the hardwood floors glistened in the sunlight. Everything was clean and freshly painted, and Max felt an oddly immediate sense of welcome. Even completely empty, this place had far more charm than the apartment he lived in.
An attractive redhead greeted Emma with a big smile, and the two embraced. Emma was definitely a friendly, popular woman. He'd never spent a lot of time cultivating friendships. He'd had a few close friends when he was young and in school, but he'd left most of those behind when he'd gone to college. When he'd decided to become a cop, he'd put all his time and energy into making that happen.
Emma motioned him over. "I want to introduce you to my good friend, Alicia Connors," she said. "This is Max Harrison, he's an inspector with the SFPD."
Alicia gave him a friendly smile. She was a pretty woman with her red hair, brown eyes and light dusting of freckles on her nose. She wore a slim-fitting black dress under a black jacket and her high heels made her a few inches taller than Emma.
"It's nice to meet you," Alicia said, extending her hand.
"You, too," he said, shaking her hand.
Alicia turned to Emma. "Sorry to drag you away from work, but I'm so glad you could make it. This apartment is amazing. If I didn't have a lease, I'd move in here myself. But if you want it, you're going to have to decide today. The owner is putting it up for lease tomorrow. He's doing me a favor by letting me show it to you today. I told him you would be an awesome tenant, and he said he'd met your dad once and liked him very much."
"The Jack Callaway magic strikes again," Emma said lightly.
Max thought there was a bit of a strain in her voice, and he wondered if Jack's shadow was sometimes a little too long for Emma. She liked her achievements to be her own. She had a lot of pride. He hoped she wouldn't let it get in the way. The apartment was better than any he'd seen when he'd been looking for a place to live.
Emma straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, as if she'd just come to that decision. "I can move fast," she said. "Let's check it out."
"Good. Now I know you're not much of a cook, but let me show you the kitchen."
As the women moved into the adjacent kitchen, Max walked to the window and gazed out at the amazing view. He could see the Marina greens, a large grassy area that edged the bay and sat adjacent to the San Francisco Yacht Club. In the distance was the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island with its famous prison.
The sight of that prison reminded him that he needed to check in with Spencer. He hoped Spencer's second day of freedom would be better than the first.
Emma came to his side. "What a view! It's so beautiful. Look at the water and the boats."
"It's very cool," he said. But as he glanced at her face, he didn't think the view could hold a candle to Emma. Her blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her blue eyes sparkled with happiness. Desire ran through him. His gut clenched with a feeling of hunger, but it wasn't food he needed—it was Emma.
She was so pretty, her eyes framed by long, black lashes, her skin a pretty pink, her soft lips parted in wonder. Something inside of him shifted. His heart was beating too fast and out of rhythm. His breath seemed caught in his chest and there was a knot growing in his throat. He wanted to put his arm around her. He wanted to pull her close and soak up some of her happiness with one long kiss. He wanted her light to wash over him and pull him out of the darkness that had surrounded him for so long.
But what he didn't want was to be the one to pull her out of the light. He didn't know how to be as happy and as free spirited as she was. He was practical and cynical and while she saw the good in people, he saw the bad.
"I'm going to check out the bedroom," Emma said, oblivious to his wandering thoughts. "Are you coming?"
"I'll be there in a second."
As she walked away, he let out the breath he'd been holding and told himself to get a grip. Following her into what would be her bedroom was probably not the wisest idea, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.
Like the living room, the bedroom was large, spacious and very bright. The windows in this room showed a different side of the city, the tall, towering skyscrapers of downtown San Francisco. There was a walk-in closet and an oversized bathroom that Emma and Alicia were currently exploring. He could hear Emma exalting the size of the tub, and his thoughts instantly pictured her in a big tub filled with soapy bubbles swirling around her breasts—breasts that he hadn't seen yet but that he could imagine were as soft and pretty and pink as the rest of her.
Damn!
He dragged his gaze away from the bathroom door, and tried to think about something else. But as he looked around the empty bedroom, his mind decorated the room with a king-sized bed and big, fluffy pillows, because instinctively he knew that Emma was a pillow-kind of girl. He could see dark wood nightstands and maybe on the wall a big screen television.
Emma might not want the television, but if she wasn't alone, if say, someone like him was in bed with her…
He blew out a breath. He was losing his mind.
This was going to be Emma's place, not his. They weren't going to spend time here together.
And if they were sharing a bed, he sure as hell wouldn't be watching television. He'd be exploring every inch of her body with his hands and his mouth.
Heat shot through him.
Shit!
He was getting turned on by an empty apartment. What the hell was wrong with him?
He obviously needed to find a woman and roll around in the sheets for a few hours. And that woman wouldn't be Emma. She
couldn't
be Emma.
Emma was a long-term, commitment-kind-of-woman, and he was not interested in tying himself to anyone for life. He'd seen love destroy every person in his family. He didn't intend to be another casualty.
"What do you think?" Emma asked.
He started at the sound of her voice. He realized both Emma and Alicia were waiting for an answer to some question. "What?"
"The apartment? Do you love it?" Emma asked.
"It's great."
"I think so, too. It doesn't feel like an apartment; it feels like a home. And I love all the light. I hate dark, shadowy rooms."
And dark, shadowy rooms were where he felt most comfortable.
"I'm going to take it," Emma said. "The rent is more than I wanted to pay, but what the heck? I'm starting a new chapter in my life, and I want it to be amazing, so I should have an amazing place."
"You won't find a better price for this size apartment in this location," Alicia reminded her.
"I'll do it," Emma said. "Where do I sign?"
"I have the application. Why don't we go into the kitchen and you can use the counter to fill it out?"
"Do you mind waiting a few more minutes, Max?" Emma asked as they walked into the hall.
"Not at all, but I need to make some calls. I'll meet you at the car."
"Okay. I'll be quick, I promise."
"Take your time." He could use a breather from Emma. He needed to refocus his priorities and stop picturing himself having sex with her. She was his colleague, not his lover, and he couldn't forget that.
* * *
"So tell me about Max," Alicia said as Emma filled out the paperwork.
"He's a detective. We're working together on a case. That's all," she said firmly.
Alicia laughed and gave her a knowing smile. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"
"Maybe both of us," she admitted.
"Really?"
"I like him. I'm attracted to him, but..."
"But what? What's the problem? Is he married? Is he with someone else?"
"No, but we drive each other crazy. We argue all the time. I'm an optimist. He's a pessimist. We're both stubborn and competitive, and we each like to win. I don't want a relationship that's a battle zone."