The Rosaries (Crossroads Series) (11 page)

“Somebody broke into the shop. They forced the back door open, and got in. I don’t think they took anything, though; maybe they got spooked by a passerby.”

“Someone broke into
my
shop?!” Belinda felt a shot of adrenaline curse quickly through her body, and the sticky feeling of cobwebs in her head was instantly swept clean by the broom of shock. “Oh Dear, I have to go see.”

Jim stopped her by gently placing a hand on her arm. “Wait, Belinda. The police secured the area, and I just left there myself. I already called a locksmith to replace the locks, so you don’t have to worry about anyone else trying to get in. Why don’t I make you a good cup of tea and we talk about it before you rush out? Especially since you are not feeling good.”

Belinda didn’t really feel sick right now – fear and deep anxiety had seemingly cured her of her ills – but when she saw the concern on Jim’s face she sat back against the pillow and smiled at him. “Thank you, Jim. Thank you for taking care of everything.”

Jim smiled back at her. “That’s my girl. Now get a little more rest while I go make the tea.”

He stood up and walked out of the room heading toward the kitchen.

Belinda wondered who could have broken into the shop - a tourist perhaps? She couldn’t imagine any of the locals going after antiques. But why didn’t they take anything? Even if spooked and ready to run, there were plenty of small items the thief could have easily picked up and carried out. She knew that Jim would worry if she went out there tonight, so she decided to wait until morning. He had already made sure the locks were replaced, and she could really use a little more rest if she wanted to kick this cold. Jim came back with the tea and some toast with strawberry jam. She didn’t really feel hungry, but ate a few bites to please her husband. “I can’t believe someone broke in. That kind of scares me a little. We don’t see many break-ins in
Wilmington
, thank goodness.”

“Well, don’t forget it is almost summer, Belinda; plenty of strangers in the area this time of year.”

Belinda nodded – it was the only gesture of acknowledgement she could think of while she chewed the toast. She swallowed and took a big gulp of tea. The warm liquid felt good going down her stinging and swollen throat. “I think you are right, Jim. It really sounds like the type of petty crime committed by a tourist who was trying to get his hands on something he could sell to prolong his vacation.”

“Yes, I think so. But tell me more about how you feel now. What’s the matter?”

Belinda groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me…I had the worst headache and my body felt like I was hit by a truck. That’s why I closed a little earlier and came home. I stopped by the drugstore on the way and picked up a decongestant. Boy, that killed me instantly! Nothing serious though, you should go grab something to eat yourself. I bet you haven’t had dinner yet, right?”

Jim smiled. “Woman, you know me too well; it’s a darn good thing that I wouldn’t dream of doing you wrong, or you would catch me in a heartbeat.”

Belinda laughed, “You bet I would, so you’d better behave.” She winked at him and was pleased to see him blush.

“You know I would never do anything to hurt you, Belinda.”

“I know that. You couldn’t hurt a fly if it came to eat your last bite of food.”

Jim stayed for another moment and then went to the kitchen to see if he could come up with a quick meal for himself. He moved through the house and never thought of closing the blinds. The man hiding in the shadows was very happy about that.

Chapter Seven

It was almost nine in the morning when Natalie opened her eyes. Billy was meowing madly and occasionally pawed at her face in his unique feline attempt to wake her up. She looked around the room and observed the color contrast of some of the hanging prints against the sun-washed wall, but Billy was hungry, and wouldn’t allow her to waste an extra minute indulging her artistic eye.

She slowly got up and stumbled toward the kitchen to feed the cat and make coffee. While the coffee brewed she opened the blinds and looked outside. Mrs. Thompson, her neighbor across the street, was busy watering the flower boxes on her porch, and Ms. Nettie was furiously sweeping sand off the entrance of her Inn, getting ready for another day of hospitality.

Natalie smiled. The scene outside was a familiar and comforting one, yet, this time of year, it was slightly different everyday thanks to the crowds of tourists floating around. She found herself laughing out loud when a particular episode popped in her mind – just a week before, one of the families staying at Miss Nettie’s place had taken advantage of the pet-friendly status, and had decided to take their pet python on vacation. Since they didn’t bother telling Miss Nettie about it, she had no idea it was a pet she was facing when she went in to bring fresh linens and found a four-foot snake greeting her from the fake tree in the left corner of the room. Obviously this family didn’t believe in keeping the snake locked up in its glass case while they went to soak in the sun and jump in the waves. The brief episode cost the family a pet deposit and Miss Nettie a close call with a heart attack. To this day, anytime she walked into any of the
rooms, Ms. Nettie went in with a watchful eye, stopping briefly on the doorstep before walking in.

A steamy snorting sound announced that coffee was ready, so Natalie poured herself a cup and walked into the living room to get the phone. She remembered Aunt Catherine’s letter was still tucked in her skirt pocket from the day before, so she went to get it before finally settling on the sofa.

She still couldn’t believe all the things she had learned about her aunt from that letter, and in so many ways she wished Aunt Catherine had told her about her life before, when Natalie still had the opportunity to draw closer. Unfortunately there was little she could do now, aside, maybe, from doing justice to Catherine
Bouvier’s
hidden talents by convincing Tom in England to exhibit some of his old friend’s paintings. Natalie was more eager to earn some recognition for her aunt than she was excited about showing her own work.

She dialed Tom’s number and waited for him to answer. He finally came on the line.

“Hello, this is Tom Hadley”

“Mr. Hadley, this is Natalie Sanders, Catherine
Bouvier’s
niece. I believe my aunt called you a few days ago to discuss the possibility of exhibiting some of my work in your gallery.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Sanders. How are you?”

Tom Hadley’s voice – deep and quite cultured – introduced him as a man of stature, and Natalie immediately wondered what he might look like.

“Unfortunately I am mourning, Mister Hadley. I’m sure you haven’t heard, but Catherine passed away in illness a few days ago.”

He gasped on the other side of the line, then, he cleared his throat.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry, Miss Sanders. Please accept my condolences.”

“Thank you, Mister Hadley, I really appreciate your kindness.”

“I just spoke to Catherine a few days ago, Miss Sanders; when did she…when did she pass away?”

“I believe it was the day after she spoke with you, Sir. She just informed me she was going to talk to you about my work on Tuesday, and she died on Wednesday. It was a sudden thing – acute congestive heart failure, the doctors said, and unfortunately, they weren’t able to save her. What kills me is that I didn’t even know her condition was so dire. She had a mild heart
attack last year, but I thought she had fully recovered from that episode. My mother even hired a nurse to live with Aunt Catherine, to make sure she ate a healthy diet and took her medications.”

“Dear…that’s awful…”

Natalie could imagine Tom Hadley sadly shaking his head many miles away. “It really is, Mister Hadley. My family is deeply saddened by the loss.”

“Your aunt told me you are quite talented.” Tom said, “It is very tragic about your paintings”.

“It was a hard blow, Sir, but I can paint more. Loss of life is impossible to repair; paintings, no matter how amazing, can be created again.”

“You’re remarkably wise, young lady. The older I become, the more I realize the same.”

“Losing my work felt paralyzing at first, but it stimulated me to create something new. I believe everything happens for a reason.”

“So do I, Miss Sanders. I didn’t always think this way, but I do now.”

Natalie smiled – she was already fond of him and hadn’t even met him yet.

“So tell me, Natalie – may I call you Natalie?”

“Of course you can.”

“Are all of your paintings gone?”

Natalie thought for a moment. “No, not all of them; most are, but I had a few at home I was still working on when the fire occurred.”

“That’s great, Miss Sanders. I would like to see them if it is possible.”

“I can finish them within a week or two, and send you photos of them, or e-mail them to you, if you would like.”

“That would be wonderful, Natalie. E-mail might be faster.”

Natalie found it touching that Mister Hadley kept switching between using her first and last names. He was accustomed to formalities, but his attachment to Aunt Catherine was evident through his will to connect with her niece on a more intimate level.

She hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask if he knew about Catherine’s paintings.

“Mister Hadley, I have one more question for you, if you will allow me.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“Did you know that my aunt painted as well?”

Tom Hadley was quiet for a few moments; then he spoke again, and his voice registered surprise. “Catherine painted? No, I knew nothing about it. She never mentioned anything of the sort to me. What kind of paintings?”

“Mostly portraits and some abstracts. They are quite striking. I am wondering if I could send you photos of those as well.”

“Absolutely, Natalie; I would love to see them.”

Natalie felt a smile originate straight from her heart and spreading to her face. “That’s great! I just know you will love them.”

“That will only make me appreciate Catherine more – if that’s possible indeed. I am scheduling a show one month from now; do you think you could send me some beforehand, if they are of my liking after I view the photos?”

“I certainly can, Sir. I don’t know how I can thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, young lady.”

“Aunt Catherine would certainly be pleased to know we have connected.”

Natalie could hear the smile in Tom Hadley’s voice. “I believe she would be, Natalie. She sounded very proud of you on the phone.”

Oh, Aunt Catherine…you were proud of me?

Natalie felt a knot in her throat and swallowed quickly to stop tears from rising to her eyes. To her knowledge, nobody had ever been proud of her before. “I will finish the paintings and send the pictures to the e-mail address Aunt Catherine left me, then.”

“Thank you Natalie, I look forward to seeing them.”

“Thank you again, Mister Hadley. I will be in touch. Good-bye for now.”

“Good-bye, Natalie.”

Natalie hung up the phone and laid her head on the back of the couch. She liked Tom Hadley, and she was happy he was willing to consider hers and Aunt Catherine’s paintings.

You will see, Aunt Catherine, you will no longer be second to anyone. From now on your light will shine brighter than all others.

In that precise moment the sunlight in the room appeared more vibrant, and one of the cards Natalie had purchased last week to send off after the art show and had left on the adjacent dining room table fell to the floor. Natalie walked up to it and picked it up; on it were only two words – “Thank you.”

The rosary wasn’t at the antique shop. He was quite angry about that, and didn’t know what to do at this point. Did Celeste lie to him? He didn’t think so, but then, one could only expect so much honesty from a crack whore. Or maybe the old lady at the shop had lied to him; could it be that she was hiding the rosary at home? She didn’t seem stupid, and it was entirely possible that she had discovered about the power of the rosary and decided to keep it to herself. Celeste could have rambled to her the same things she told him, especially if she was hoping to strike a fat deal.

There was only one way to find out…he had to get into her house. He followed her and her husband two nights before when they strolled gingerly home after closing her shop, so he knew where she lived. He had one problem – he couldn’t risk being seen. He began to explore his possibilities and thought about a variety of scenarios to ensure all bases were covered. He knew she wasn’t at work today – not yet, at least – but he expected her to go back soon. He would make sure she was out of the house before going in; he was ready to take care of things as needed, but preferred to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, if at all possible. In fact, he was happy he thought of taking back the card he had given Belinda Allen the day he first walked into the store. The number he wrote on the card was of a Track Phone he had purchased on the way there, but he had to provide a land line number to register the phone, so he knew there was a chance he could be tracked down through that number, and that wouldn’t do.