Close Neighbors. Dawn Stewardson
crossing his face.
“But Anne is a private investigator,” Julie told him. “At least, she was. Doesn’t that count, Anne?”
“Yes, it does. But I’m afraid it means your dad won’t be able to tell me about that conversation in front of you.”
“But…that’s not fair!”
“Baby, you wouldn’t want me to get into trouble, would you?”
“N-o-o, but—”
“Then how about if you go home. And after I finish talking to Anne, I’ll tell you what she thinks.”
“Oh, D-a-a-d.”
Chase gave her an exaggerated shrug. “There’s no other way, Julie. Besides, it’s time somebody looked in on Rachel. You could see if she’d like some tea or something.”
With obvious reluctance, the child pushed back her chair.
“Julie?” Anne said. “Do you want to come back after lunch? For a swim?”
She glanced at her father. When he nodded, she shot Anne a small smile. “Sure. Thanks.”
“See you later, then.”
“That was nice of you,” Chase said as Julie started across the yard.
“Well, I’ll want a swim, anyway, and she’s a real sweetheart. I’m just afraid she’s going to be disappointed in me. No matter how much thinking I do, I doubt I’ll figure out a way of convincing the police about Rachel.”
“I know. Hoping you would wasn’t one of her more realistic expectations. But there’s a different problem that I wanted to ask you about.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “Something happened last night that I’m not sure how to handle. A man called me, claiming to have the gun that killed Graham Lowe. He told me it’s mine for two hundred thousand bucks. Otherwise, he’ll use it to pin the murder on Rachel.”
CHAPTER TWO
HOW ON EARTH, ANNE ASKED herself, had things escalated so rapidly from a little girl seeking her advice to a man needing it? And not just any man, but one who’d become the victim of an extortion attempt because his sister was a murder suspect.
She gazed across the sun-drenched pool, thinking that when the Nicholsons had a problem it was certainly a major leaguer. And regardless of whether it made her uncomfortable, now that Chase had begun talking about it she had little choice but to hear him out.
“So,” she said, turning toward him with what she hoped was an encouraging expression. “When you said you’re not sure how to handle the phone call, does that mean you haven’t reported it to the police?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“Then I guess my first question is, why not?”
Silence stretched between them until he said, “You know, all of a sudden I’m feeling like an idiot—and wondering what the devil possessed me to come over here. I mean, we’ve barely met, so…”
She simply waited, watching him. On the surface, he appeared relaxed, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, but no one looking closely would mistake him for a man at ease. His dark eyes were clouded with worry, and there was a tightness around his mouth.
“When Julie said you’d been a detective…” he finally continued. “But, no. I should have realized that imposing on you was totally inappropriate.” He began to rise. “This doesn’t concern you, and—”
“Wait, it’s all right,” she said, aware as the words came out that she might regret them.
Giving advice to a virtual stranger could be risky business, so she’d probably be wiser to just let him leave. But something about him made her want to help.
Before she could decide exactly what it was, he said, “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“Yes.”
He lowered himself into the chair again, slowly saying, “I would have called the police, but the situation’s a lot more complicated than Julie made it sound.”
“In that case, you’d better start at the beginning. Tell me the whole story. I’ve got time,” she added when he glanced at her laptop. “I was just playing with the opening of a new book. And that was mostly because my house is such a disaster area that I don’t know where to start attacking it.”
“Well…then how about this? After we’re finished discussing my problem, I’ll give you a hand inside. Help you arrange your furniture, or cart boxes to the basement or whatever.”
Her gaze slipped downward from his face. His shoulders were broad, and the way his T-shirt was pulling tautly across his chest emphasized its muscles, leaving little doubt that he’d be a big help.
“All right.” She shot him a smile. “Deal.”
“Great. Then…the beginning would have been Wednesday evening. Graham phoned Rachel after dinner and…I mentioned that she’d recently broken up with him, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well, on Wednesday he phoned after dinner and told her they had to talk—suggested they meet in High Park. She said she’d be there, then had second thoughts and called him back. She couldn’t reach him, though, so she asked me to go with her.
“It wouldn’t have been any problem. Julie was spending the night next door, at her friend’s. But Rachel has a habit of avoiding difficult situations, of always trying to get someone else to take care of them for her. So I said no, and she went alone.”
When Chase paused and caught Anne’s gaze, she felt a flicker of affinity. How often had she made a spur-of-the-moment decision, only to end up wishing she’d decided differently? Far more often than she liked to recall.
“I imagine I’d have told her no, too,” she said—and was glad she had when Chase looked grateful.
“Yeah, well, I figured that was the right way to play it,” he continued. “Until about three minutes after she left, that is. Then I started worrying that I’d made a mistake. See, Graham had a quick temper, and the more I thought about that the more I wished I’d gone.
“Finally, I got in my Jeep and headed to the park. I drove around, checking the lots for their cars, but couldn’t find them. Later, Rachel explained that they met at the entrance to a walking trail, and had both parked in a pull-off near it.”
“So when you couldn’t find them you came home?” Anne prompted after he paused a second time.
“Right. And, eventually, Rachel arrived back, so upset that I knew something was wrong the instant she walked in.
“It turned out Graham had started talking about their getting together again and she’d told him it wouldn’t work. Said they simply weren’t right for each other. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, though, and one thing led to another until, at some point, he shoved her.
“She said he didn’t push her very hard. But they were in a wooded area and she must have slipped on some leaves or something, because she ended up on the ground. And that totally infuriated her, so she didn’t say another word—just picked herself up, marched back to her car and drove home. End of story. Until yesterday morning, when we turned on the news and heard he’d been killed.”
“How did she react?”
“She practically disintegrated. She’d been seeing him for months, and even though she’d decided he wasn’t the love of her life, she still had feelings for him. In any event, the police were issuing their standard request for people who knew anything to contact them.”
“And she did.”
“Of