Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Read online

  When she walked through the storeroom to knock on his office door, she found it open. Victor sat behind his desk, chatting with Martin, who sat perched on the front edge.

  Laurel clasped damp hands in front of her. “Hi. I hate to interrupt, but I wanted to fill you in about something that happened while you were out of town.”

  Victor’s brows shot up in alarm. “Oh, no! I knew it!” He turned to Martin. “I told you we shouldn’t have been gone so long.”

  Martin waved a hand to shush him. “Calm down and let the young lady speak. She isn’t all worked up, so you shouldn’t be, either.”

  Laurel shot him a quick look of gratitude before returning her attention to Victor. “Don’t worry. It had nothing to do with the gallery. It was more…personal.”

  Martin popped up with concern on his face, took her hand, and dragged her to a chair. “Sit down, dear, and tell us all about it.”

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You remember when we met, my mother told you I’d worked for an art investment firm in Seattle.”

  Victor nodded.

  “Well, I was also engaged to the owner of that business. I came back here for a fresh start when our engagement ended.”

  Martin patted her hand. “I’m so sorry, dear.” He looked at his partner. “Maybe we could fix her up with a nice young man.”

  Victor frowned. “Don’t be a ninny. We don’t know any nice young men who would be suitable for Laurel.”

  Martin flushed. “Come to think of it…I guess you’re right.”

  Laurel gritted her teeth. You two are not making this easier. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary. What I need to tell you is that Richard came to Carmel last week to see me.”

  Victor’s eyes rounded. “Please don’t tell me he persuaded you to go back to Seattle with him. I need you!”

  “No, he didn’t.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “He won’t be going back, either—at least not the way he came. His body was found on Carmel Beach yesterday morning. The police believe he was murdered.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  From the shocked expression on Victor’s face, Laurel might as well have told him Ermengarde Hoffmann was expecting.

  “Murdered?” he croaked.

  “That’s what the medical examiner said.”

  Martin clasped one hand to his tweed-clad breast. “Oh, dear, that’s awful! Are you all right? Let me fix you a cup of tea.”

  When he started to stand from his perch on the edge of the desk, Laurel raised a hand to stop him. “No, please. It was a terrible shock at first, but we had split up before I moved back here. I’m fine. Really.” She turned to Victor, who now looked faintly ill. “Did you know Richard? I didn’t think to ask.”

  He pulled an old-fashioned, monogrammed handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and blotted his upper lip. “By reputation only. He was known in the business as something of an expert in modern and contemporary Russian painting. Anna in Blue was sold through his firm, you know.”

  “Yes, I helped with the original paperwork.” She glanced around the small, crowded office. “I haven’t seen the painting since the day it arrived. I meant to ask if you were having it cleaned or re-framed.”

  He stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket. “No. I sold it right away—had a ready buyer waiting in the wings.”

  “That was fortunate.”

  “Yes, very.”

  Laurel rose. “Well, I just wanted to tell you about Richard’s death before you heard it from the local gossip mill. I’d better get back to the sales floor.”

  “Do the…uh—” Victor cleared his throat. “Do the police have any idea who committed the crime?”

  “If they do, they haven’t told me. All I know is they’re investigating.”

  Martin nodded sagely. “Once they figure it out, assuming they do, I’m sure we’ll see something in the paper.”

  “I’m sure we will. A murder is big news in a sleepy little village like Carmel-by-the-Sea.”

  Martin nodded again. “The biggest.”

  Laurel left the men to resume their conversation and returned to the front, where she unlocked the door and flipped the sign back to Open.

  A few casual lookers strolled through the gallery that afternoon, but she had plenty of downtime to check the delivery status of the online purchases she’d made for her new apartment. According to the company’s website, her new bed was still on target to be delivered tomorrow afternoon. She hoped the delivery men would be able to get it up the steep stairway. With luck, Jake would still be around to lend a hand, if necessary. Concentrating on the details of her move effectively banished thoughts of Richard for the rest of the day.

  On the drive home, her excitement built with every mile. As soon as she arrived, she changed into jeans and a sweater and raced across the yard to see her new place. Food could wait.

  At the top of the stairs, she unlocked the door and reached in to turn on the lights. Her breath caught. Together she, Rafael and his sons, her mother and sisters, and even Jake had worked a miracle. The big, open room was almost too perfect with its soaring ceilings, cute little kitchen, and gleaming wood floors. Based on Rafael’s estimate, the floors should be safe to walk on as long as she took her shoes off, but she wanted to give them as long as possible to cure, so she turned off the lights, locked the door, and headed back to the main house.

  Tomorrow night she would be able to sleep in her new bed, in her new apartment. She wanted to be fresh and well-rested in the morning, but between the lingering shock of Richard’s death and her excitement over the move, sleep wasn’t likely to come easily.

  And it didn’t. She lay awake for hours, and when she finally drifted off, terrifying images plagued her dreams.

  The next morning Laurel was up before first light. She came downstairs so early her mother hadn’t left for the restaurant yet.

  As she followed Rufus down, Rosemary met her at the bottom of the stairs with a grin. “You’re up early. Excited?”

  “Very. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need more help with the move?”

  “I’m sure. Jake said he’d be here around nine, and I don’t have that much to move. He can help me put the bookcases together, and after the bed is delivered, he’s offered to take me to pick up the sofa in his truck.”

  Her mother gave her a quick peck on the cheek and headed for the front door. “It sounds like you have everything under control. You and Jake come over to the restaurant whenever you’re hungry.”

  Surprise tears stung Laurel’s eyes. Her mother’s love was as boundless as it was precious. “Thanks, mom…for everything.”

  “You’re my baby. That’s my job. I can’t wait to see the place this evening.” She scooted out the door and was gone.

  Laurel went into the kitchen, slathered a slice of toast with Nutella, poured a huge mug of coffee, and was back upstairs packing the contents of her drawers into a box when the doorbell rang. She checked the Mickey Mouse alarm clock beside the bed. Eight-thirty. Jake was even earlier than he’d promised.

  She ran down the stairs, pulled open the door, and froze.

  The man in the black wool overcoat and highly-polished shoes standing in front of her was not Jake Carlson.

  “Good morning, Laurel.” His smile still had the same sharp edge that had always made her skin crawl.

  “Sergei.” She held steady and fought the urge to slam the door and lock it. But although Richard’s business partner had never given her the warm fuzzies, the Russian had always been scrupulously polite. “This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here. Big Sur is a long way from Seattle.” A very long way.

  A tiny shiver slipped up her spine. How had he found her house? She couldn’t imagine Richard had given him the address before he left.

  “The police called at the gallery and advised me of Richard’s death. As you can imagine, I was quite shocked. I came to offer my condolences and ask if you need any as
sistance.”

  Which still doesn’t explain how you found me. “Thank you, but I don’t need anything. I’m fine.”

  “Are you certain? Surely you would like some keepsakes from the condominium.”

  “I have everything I need.”

  “Then money, perhaps. Richard was a man of substantial assets. I could arrange a significant transfer to your account if you provide me with your bank details.”

  For a second Laurel was tempted. Richard had no family, and she could use the money. But she’d made a clean break and didn’t want strings of any kind tying her to the past or to Sergei Ivanov. “You are kind to think of me, but no. I’m sorry you came all this way.” She started to close the door, but he placed a firm hand against it.

  “If there is nothing I can give you, perhaps there is something you can give me. May I come in?” He increased the pressure against her hand holding the knob.

  Laurel frowned. She wedged one sneaker-clad foot against the bottom of the door, in case he tried to push his way into the house. “I have nothing that would interest you.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” His smile faded. “I understand Richard came to you looking for a certain flash drive.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He ignored her question. “I must ask you to give me the drive. It contains very important business information that can be of no interest to you.”

  Laurel stood her ground. “If you know Richard came here, you also know he left without the drive. As I told him, I have never seen it, and I don’t have it.”

  “You do not understand. I need that Memory Stick.” Anger sparked in Sergei’s eyes. “It is not at the gallery or his apartment. Perhaps you do not realize you have it. If you let me in, I will search for it.”

  She hadn’t allowed Richard into the house, and she’d be damned if she’d let Sergei Ivanov in, either. She held firm. “I told you I don’t have it. I think you’d better leave.”

  At the sound of tires crunching on gravel, Sergei abruptly turned and eased his pressure on the door. When Laurel peered over his shoulder and saw Jake’s old red pickup rolling up the driveway, relief washed over her. Once again, the man’s timing was impeccable.

  Jake hopped down from the cab and walked toward the house with a white cardboard box in one hand. As usual, he was wearing shorts.

  As Sergei glanced from him to Laurel, he appeared to make some kind of decision. He pulled his wallet out and handed her a business card. “I will telephone you in a few days. In the meantime, please call me on my cell, day or night, if you find the flash drive.”

  He released the door so abruptly, Laurel almost fell through the opening, then strode to his car, climbed in, and peeled out down the driveway. She was still staring after him when Jake reached her.

  Balancing the box that read Mariano’s World-Famous Doughnuts in fancy red script, he watched Sergei’s car speed away, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake, before turning to Laurel. “Some moving day wake-up call. Who was that?”

  “Sergei Ivanov.”

  He sucked in a swift breath and glanced back down the driveway. “I didn’t know he was in town. What did he want?”

  “Guess.”

  “Vargis’s flash drive.”

  “Bingo.” She stepped aside and let him into the living room before locking the door. Not that she expected Sergei to return, but the solid thunk of the lock made her feel better.

  She expected more questions about Richard’s former partner, but for the moment Jake seemed willing to let the subject drop.

  “Do you have coffee? As promised, I brought doughnuts.” He presented his box. “Chocolate with chocolate icing because they’re my favorite and calorie-free.”

  “Coffee’s in the kitchen.” Laurel lifted the box from his hands and headed down the hall. “Calories be damned. I need comfort food, and I can’t think of anything more comforting right now than chocolate doughnuts.”

  He followed her. “I’m glad you approve of my choice. While we eat, you can tell me about Ivanov’s visit.”

  Her stomach clenched. For about five seconds, the lure of chocolate doughnuts had pushed Sergei from her mind.

  Jake persisted. “It seems like every time I show up, you’re in the middle of an altercation—first Vargis, now Ivanov. I’m beginning to think I need to bring my sidearm every time I come to see you.”

  Keeping her back toward him, she selected a couple of mugs from the cupboard next to the sink. “I wouldn’t call it an altercation.”

  He grasped her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. “He looked like he was trying to force his way into the house.” His expression dared her to deny it.

  “He wanted to come in to look for the drive, but I didn’t let him.”

  “What would have happened if I hadn’t shown up when I did?”

  She wanted to believe Sergei would have left without incident, but that was probably wishful thinking. “I don’t know.”

  “Vargis had a gun. Was Ivanov armed, too?”

  “I don’t know. If he was, he didn’t show it.”

  His gaze sharpened, and his fingers tightened their grip on her shoulder. “Did he threaten you in any way?”

  “No. He asked if I needed help with anything then offered me money from Richard’s share of the gallery.”

  “Did you accept?”

  A tiny shudder shook her shoulders. “I don’t need, or want, anything from either of them.”

  “Is that when he mentioned the flash drive?”

  She nodded. “I told him I didn’t have it, but he wanted to look for it himself and seemed reluctant to take no for an answer.”

  Jake released her shoulder and tipped his chin toward the coffee maker. “Why don’t you pour us each a cup, and we’ll talk while we eat? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He pulled out a chair, sat, opened the box, chose a doughnut, and took a big bite.

  “You might have waited for a plate.” Laurel plunked a blue-glazed pottery plate in front of him, along with a mug of coffee.

  “I don’t need a plate.”

  “In this kitchen you do. And a napkin.” She slapped one down then took a seat across from him. “So, what do you want to talk about? I’ve told you everything that happened.”

  He washed down the last of his doughnut with a gulp of coffee. “Are you still planning to move into the apartment today?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t like the idea of you being there alone. With Ivanov in the picture now, it isn’t safe.”

  She set her half-eaten doughnut on her plate. “Sergei might be a creep, but he has always been a gentleman to me. Besides, since you think he’s so dangerous, why would I expose my mother to additional risk by staying here?”

  Jake’s brows knit in a frown. “I don’t want either of you at risk.”

  “Then arrest him.”

  He leaned forward and plucked up another doughnut. “I would if I could, but we don’t have enough evidence to charge him with money laundering, and you said he didn’t threaten you.” He took a big bite and eyed Laurel with speculation as he chewed. “What do you have in the way of security at the new place?”

  “A lock.”

  His mouth tightened into a thin line. “While we’re out picking up your sofa, we’ll stop at an electronics store and buy a simple security system. You don’t need anything complicated. A couple of sensors for the doors to your apartment and the garage should do it. Ivanov’s not a human fly, and I doubt he, or anyone else, would bring a ladder long enough to reach the second story windows.”

  “That’s true, but I don’t understand why you want to put one on the door into the garage. You can’t get upstairs from there.”

  “It’s not only the Russian we want to keep out. If we’re putting in a system, we want to deter run-of-the-mill thieves, too.”

  “There’s nothing in there worth stealing.”

  Despite her objections, his tone remained painfully c
alm and patient. “But a burglar wouldn’t know that in advance, would he? You need to think more defensively. Besides, once you’re a world-famous artist, you don’t want anyone to break in and steal your sculptures.”

  “Very funny.”

  Jake’s patience evaporated. “Laurel, you live above the garage. You don’t want anyone to be able to get inside and start a fire—accidentally or on purpose. And a sprinkler system is a lot more expensive than a door sensor.”

  The image chilled her to the core, but she quickly banished it. Sergei wanted Richard’s flash drive, which she didn’t have. He had no reason to try to burn her up. Then another thought occurred to her. “Just a minute. After I pay the bills for the new furniture and pay Rafael for his work on the apartment, I’ll barely be able to buy cat food. There’s no way I can afford a security system.”

  “Consider it a housewarming present…unless you want me camped out on your couch indefinitely.”

  For a fleeting moment, she was tempted. He did make her feel safer, and his kisses gave her the tingles, but how well did she really know him? After all, she’d thought she knew Richard, and look how that turned out.

  She flashed a smile. “A security system it is, then.”

  A knowing smile twitched around the corners of Jake’s lips, but he didn’t give in to it. Instead, he took his time finishing his second doughnut then leaned forward and pushed the box across the table. “Have another.”

  “I haven’t finished this one, yet.”

  “I bought six, and I might go into a sugar coma if I eat five, so step up and pull your weight.”

  She gave an involuntary snort. “Didn’t your mother teach you the danger of making cracks about a woman’s weight?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. You’d blow away in a stiff breeze. Now, less talking and more eating. We’ve got work to do.”

  She stuffed the rest of her doughnut in her mouth. There was a lot to be said for a man who could make you smile after an early-morning encounter with a desperate Russian quasi-gangster.

  As soon as they finished breakfast, they started hauling boxes across the yard to her new apartment. Rufus objected noisily to being locked in Laurel’s old bedroom for the duration, even though she assured him through the door that it was for his own safety. She took her suitcases and clothes, while Jake carried the heavier things, like the box of dishes and kitchen equipment her mother had donated and a couple of small wooden chairs. The kitchen table and area rugs she’d found at a thrift shop were already in place. By noon they had moved everything she was taking from the main house.