Chapter 5 has now become Chapters 9 and 10. Today’s chapter is 11. Now they will all be shorter and only one at a time. When this book blog is done, there will be a total of 19 chapters. I will be publishing the entire book on Amazon.com soon, but I will still publish the remaining chapters on my blog Books by Liz.

 Chapter 11

With his forearms resting on his desk, Cole stared at his cell phone. When he’d noticed Tori’s digital camera on the table in preparation for the work she’d planned that day, he’d wanted a picture of her for his phone.

At first, she’d balked at the idea, because she wore only a pair of old, short cut-offs and a tank top, but he’d insisted. Posing as he’d requested, she sat on the kitchen table with her right leg straight and her left knee bent. Her arms braced her up in a sitting position.

“Nice looking lady,” a man said from behind him.

Cole started nervously then turned off his cell phone. Turning in his chair, he gazed up at his dark-haired boss. “Morning, Brad.”

“I heard about your friend Jack on the car radio,” Brad Austin said. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Cole answered, absently wondering how he could conduct an interview show when he didn’t even want to talk. He had to admit that he was devastated by Jack’s death. The only thing keeping him from losing control of his emotions was Tori and how she would feel if she realized how deeply upset he was. Although, he sensed she knew exactly what he felt and maybe felt some of his loss herself.

“Ramos’s death really hit you hard, didn’t it,” Brad observed as he sat with one leg on the edge of the desk.

“That, too,” Cole said sadly. Why had he worded it like that? From the look in Brad’s dark eyes, he was going to ask questions until he got answers.

“It’s not like you to clam up, Cole. What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing I can discuss.”

Brad changed the subject. “She’s pretty. Where did you meet her?”

“She’s restoring my mansion.” Cole paused a moment, unsure he should continue. In a way, he wanted to confide in somebody, but he didn’t want it to be Brad. He wanted to confide in Tori about his grief; he wanted her to understand that didn’t blame her for opening the wall and discovered Carl’s remains.

Turning his sorrowful gaze to Brad, Cole sighed heavily. Maybe he should say something. But instead of explaining, he questioned his boss curiously. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondered. What’s her name?”

“Tori Young.”

“Is she the reason for your silence this morning?”

“Only partially,” Cole admitted. “She sprained her ankle last night.”

“That’s nothing serious,” Brad said. “She’ll be fine in a few days.”

“I sure hope so, Brad.” Cole stared up at him sorrowfully. “What will I do if she’s not?”

“For heaven’s sake, Cole!” Brad exclaimed in amazement. “You’re acting like that woman’s the most important thing in your life. Only a few days ago you told me that you were going to have your first meeting with the man restoring your place. Obviously, you just met her.”

“How long did you know Peggy before you knew she was the one?”

“On our third date, but …”

“Tori and I are on our fifth day together,” Cole said dreamily, “and we’ve already been through a hell of a lot more together than you and Peggy will ever go through. Tori’s bright, energetic, independent, and brave. I can’t bear the thought of losing her. That’s what’s got me down, Brad. I’m scared to death that I’m going to lose her.”

As startling as his admission was, Cole kept a straight face. He knew he didn’t want to lose Tori—he’d even told her so. But he had no idea that’s what was terrifying him until the words were out of his mouth.

“How dangerous can a restoration job be?”

“The mansion’s been empty for a long time, Brad. Any number of things could happen.” Cole shook his head in dismay. Despite his desire to remain calm, his tone had been so mysterious that Brad’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Determined to keep his secret while still allaying Brad’s skepticism, Cole explained, “It’s an awfully old house. There are places in the roof that are hazardous, and you never know what skeletons might be lurking in the closets.”

“You’re really serious about her, aren’t you,” Brad observed. “How does she feel about you?”

“We haven’t discussed it.” Cole turned his cell phone back on and returned his gaze to Tori’s picture. Oh, how he wished she was there. If she were, he probably wouldn’t be so worried, because he would know that she was safe. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a while. I need to compose myself before I go on the air.”

But Cole couldn’t concentrate on the preparations for that day’s show. When the author he was to interview arrived, he muddled half-heartedly through their preliminary conversation. About twenty minutes later, he excused himself and left his small office.

Upon his return, the author was gone, and a man in a business suit sat in the chair she had occupied.

“Can I help you?” Cole asked politely as he approached his desk.

The African-American man rose slowly and faced Cole. His expression was so serious that Cole sensed trouble. Who was this guy? And what had happened to the author?

“Coleman Marshall?” the man questioned formally.

Instant anxiety rose within, but he fought it back and casually sank into his executive chair. He couldn’t let this man see how nervous he was. Actually, he wasn’t even sure why he was nervous; he just knew he was about to encounter something he didn’t want to.

“That’s right,” Cole said, struggling to keep his tone even. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m Detective Don Irving of the Charleston Police Department,” he explained, also sitting down. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Anxiety gave way to panic. If someone had found out about Carl’s remains, this man would be from the county sheriff’s office. The cops must have found Jack’s body, and he could be in serious trouble.

“I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk right now, detective. I’m scheduled to go on the air in …” Cole glanced at his watch and realized that his hand was shaking. Hopefully, the detective hadn’t noticed. “… seven minutes.”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Det. Irving said. “Your boss is going to run an old tape.”

Cole shot an irritated glare at the smaller man. “Why?”

“I asked him to. I’m with homicide, Mr. Marshall. I need to ask you about Dr. John Ramos’s death. You did know him, didn’t you?”

“Of course. He was my oldest friend. Where did you get my name?”

“I’m the one asking questions, Mr. Marshall. But, frankly, I’m not too fond of doing it here. Too many people could interrupt us. Would you follow me down to headquarters?”

Cole scrambled to his feet, acutely aware of what the policeman wanted. “Are you accusing me of his murder? Do you have a warrant for my arrest? Is that what this is all about?”

“I’ll explain everything at headquarters. And this isn’t an order, Mr. Marshall.” If the detective hadn’t been suspicious before, Cole could see by his expression that he did now. “I’m only asking so we can have more privacy. Shall we meet there in thirty minutes? That will give you time to talk to a lawyer if you want to.”

“I don’t need to talk to a damned lawyer,” Cole raged. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any qualms about meeting me at headquarters.”

“All right. I’ll follow you there, but I don’t need any time. We can leave right now.”

 ***

        That morning Tori took twenty-three pictures of the downstairs, working slowly so she had several angles of each room. By the time she finished, her ankle ached worse than it had last night.

Sitting on a bench in the kitchen, she rested her ankle on a pillow and absently listened to Cole’s radio show. Maybe she could call him while he was on the air and surprise him.

Despite the terror, last night had been wonderful. She could still feel Cole’s lips burning his desire into her mouth. She could still taste his wintergreen-flavored tongue clashing with hers.

He’d wanted her, but he’d insisted that they not make love. In a way, that was nice. It told her more than words could that he truly cared about her, that he respected her. Yet in another way, she was disappointed. She had wanted him, had longed to lie in his arms all night, savoring his body as only his lover could.

The thought of his eagerness to go slow brought a warm feeling deep inside her. He didn’t just want her body. She knew that now. He wanted her heart and soul, as well. If only she could give them to him!

Unfortunately, she was terrified of commitment. The mere thought of her broken engagement still made her heart ache—although the emotional turmoil was finally gone. Now that she’d met Cole, she was glad that Paul had canceled their wedding plans.

What if Cole asked her to marry him? What would she say? That they should have a long engagement and get to know each other better? Probably, because no couple should get married within days of their meeting.

What are you thinking, Victoria Young? she thought sternly. Cole wasn’t going to ask her to marry him, and she had no business even daydreaming about it. She was there to work, not find a husband—which she didn’t need for a full life, anyway.

When Cole announced his second guest for that day, Tori knew that it was eleven o’clock. Even though she’d eaten breakfast with him at seven-thirty, she was already hungry. Setting the towel on the table, she hobbled to the refrigerator and took out some sandwich makings.

With an idea, she went into the hallway and got her bottle of fiorinal from her purse. If it worked on her migraines, maybe it would help the pain in her ankle.

After taking the fiorinal with a swallow of lemonade, she ate her sandwich slowly, still absently listening to Cole’s program. Then she noticed it. Every time there was a commercial break, someone on the radio announced that this was a repeat of a prerecorded program.

Tori stared at the radio in amazement. Cole had told her that he was going to work, but he wasn’t there. Where was he? Why had he lied to her? And if he’d lied about that, how else might he deceive her?

Angry, she went upstairs and changed into her bikini. She didn’t feel like working that afternoon, and she couldn’t call area contractors to get estimates until Carl’s remains were removed.

With nothing better to do, she went to the area that used to be the formal gardens and spread a blanket on the ground. She may as well catch a few rays to maintain her tan. Realizing that she’d forgotten her drink, she went inside, added more lemonade, and returned to the gardens.

 ***

        Cole shot to his feet when Det. Irving wandered into the interrogation room where he’d been waiting. “What the hell took you so long? It’s after eleven.”

“Relax,” Det. Irving said as he sat down at the table with a tape recorder. “I just got waylaid on the case.”

“On purpose probably,” Cole muttered. Dropping onto the other chair, he demanded, “What the hell were you doing, anyway? Letting me cool my heels in here? Trying to make me mad? If you were, it worked like a charm. I’m furious. I’ve got to get home. Somebody’s waiting for me.”

“I didn’t think you had a reason to be mad.” Det. Irving turned on the tape recorder and spoke flatly. “I’m taping this conversation, Mr. Marshall. Do you have any objections?”

“If I object,” Cole returned, his anger still at its peak, “you’ll just suspect me. Go ahead and tape.”

“Good. Are you Coleman Marshall?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know the victim John Ramos?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have an appointment with him at nine o’clock the night of September thirteenth?”

Stunned, Cole swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. How had the cops found out about the meeting? His anger disappeared, replaced by numbness. “How did you find that out?”

“An officer on the scene noticed that one of the pages had been torn off the calendar. It was a simple police procedure. We used a pencil to find out what was written on the paper.”

Cole felt like a balloon that had been punctured. All of his anger had been deflated by that simple procedure he should have thought of at the time. Resting his elbows on the table, he buried his head in his hands. “Oh, God. Here it comes.”

“Here what comes?” Det. Irving asked curiously.

“The question. Did I kill Jack?” He returned his concerned gaze to the detective. Stupidly, he’d expected his cover-up to work, but it hadn’t. The police had discovered that he’d had an appointment, and now he was a suspect. Well, he wasn’t about to admit to something he didn’t do. Steeling himself, he said, “No, sir. I did not kill Jack. He was my friend.”

“Actually, my next question’s completely different. I need to know why you had an appointment with him.”

That question was a little better, but only marginally. To avoid dishonesty, he said, “I wanted to talk to him.”

“You needed an appointment to talk to a friend?”

Cole grimaced. It was a natural question under the circumstances. “Okay. I had a special reason to visit him. I’ve got a new girlfriend, and I wanted him to meet her.”

“At the morgue?” Det. Irving asked in shock. “That’s an odd place to make an introduction, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been busy with renovations on the mansion I inherited from my grandfather. We were going to meet him in the lobby.”

“I see. Did he mention if he was working on anything important? Something that could have been dangerous?”

Cole folded his hands and laid his forearms on the table. He had to move very carefully if he wanted his action to appear casual. “Not to me. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t.”

“Do you know why he would write a C on the floor—in his own blood?”

“A C?” Cole repeated in shock. “He wrote a C on the floor? I didn’t noti…” Det. Irving’s suspicious expression stopped Cole in the middle of his word. Now he had to admit the truth. “Okay, I was there last night. But Jack was already dead. I’m the one who called 911, and I hung up before I gave my name.”

“I see.”

“Hell! I reported the damned murder, didn’t I? I could have walked out of there and nobody would have been the wiser. And do you know what else I did? I used a handkerchief and pen to make the call so I wouldn’t leave fingerprints. I also wiped my prints from everything I touched. I found the appointment note and knew I was being set up. I didn’t want to be arrested. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Why do you think somebody set you up?”

“For one thing, I could read my name. Jack’s handwriting was so bad that even he couldn’t read it sometimes. For another thing, he wouldn’t have needed to put my name on the calendar. He wouldn’t have forgotten that I was coming by.”

“When the man was dying, he had no trouble writing a C. It was plain as day there on the right side of his body. I’m surprised you missed it.”

“For God’s sake, Irving. I was in shock because I’d just found my best friend lying dead in a morgue. How can you expect that I noticed everything there was to see.”

“He could have written it after you left,” Det. Irving speculated.

“No way!” Cole countered angrily. “Jack was already as dead as the body on the table by the time we got there.”

“Speaking of we,” Det. Irving said pointedly. “Who is this new girl of yours, and where does she live?”

“Her name’s Victoria Young, and she lives in my mansion.” Sensing that he’d just dragged Tori into yet another situation that could endanger her, Cole added, “But you just leave her out of this. She didn’t even see Jack’s body. I sent her outside as soon as I saw him.”

“I’d still like to talk to her. Is there anybody else that you can think of who would have a reason to want Dr. Ramos dead?”

“Not off hand.” Before he involved his father, he needed to talk to Tori because he’d already involved her. Besides, she’d made some valid points about Richard Marshall last night. He should probably confide in her before he went any further with the police.

“Okay. Where’s your mansion? I need to question this Victoria Young, too.”

“Tell you what,” Cole offered. “I have a few errands to run first, but I’ll bring her here when I’m done.”

Det. Irving studied him before he acquiesced. “All right. There are a few other things I can be doing in the meantime. When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” Cole glanced at his watch and noticed that it was nearly noon. “Somewhere between two and two-thirty?”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

“So will we,” Cole said as he started to leave. When Det. Irving said his name, he stopped at the door and glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“Don’t go any farther away than your mansion. I want to talk to you again.”

“Don’t worry, Irving. I’m not going anywhere.”

 ***

        The redhead moved as quietly as possible toward Tori. The architect had been in the same position for almost two hours, and the redhead was worried. She’d wanted to scare the young woman, not kill her. She was almost to Tori when she heard a man’s voice calling loudly.

“Tori! Tori, I’m home!” Cole shouted. “To-ri! Where are you?”

The redhead sprinted toward the woods on the opposite side of the gardens. Thank goodness, she kept in shape by jogging; otherwise, she would never be able to escape. She had already reached cover of the trees when she heard Cole’s voice again.

“My God! Tori, wake up!”

Dropping to his knees beside her, he glanced around and caught a glimpse of a movement in the woods—a shadow. Could it have been the same one that Tori had seen the night before? Now was no time to find out. Something was wrong with Tori. She’d been in the sun so long that her lightly-tanned skin was bright red with little blisters covering it. He had to get her out of the sun immediately.

Scooping her into his arms, he rushed into the house, up the stairs, and to the nearest shower. Without stripping first, he held her upright and turned on the cold water. The spray hit him like tiny ice cubes, but Tori still slept before him. If that hadn’t awakened her, he didn’t know what would.

Cole turned off the shower then carried her to her bed. Laying her on the quilt, he covered her with it to dry her off. After changing his clothes, he put her in his Rogue and rushed her to the hospital.