Boiling Point (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 2) Page 16

  “I don’t think you could go wrong either way.” How’s that for a diplomatic answer?

  She draped the fabrics across the rail of the white crib and held up a couple of paint chips. “The pale yellow goes best with the zoo theme, and the light green picks up the tufts of grass with the bunnies.” She pursed her lips while she pondered her choices. “I just can’t decide.”

  “Which one does Lyman like best?”

  She laughed. “Since I refuse to go with a robot theme, he doesn’t care.”

  “Maybe you should ask Zoë.” She might not be an expert on baby décor, but she was bound to know more than he did.

  “That’s a great idea. She has a good eye for color and fashion.”

  He turned to leave then remembered his mission. “I’ll ask her to come up, but before I go, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Sure.”

  Nick laid out the case for sharing his true purpose with Lyman and was pleased when Marian readily agreed.

  “At first, I just wanted to protect him.” She shook her head. “But after everything that’s happened, it’s gotten harder and harder to keep the secret. I’ve felt like I was lying to him.”

  He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You acted out of love. He’ll understand. Now, let’s go downstairs and see if we can pull him away from GRAMPA for a few minutes.”

  He escorted Marian to the elevator, and they rode down to Lyman’s basement workshop together.

  When the elevator came to a stop with a gentle thud and the door started to open, she whispered, “I’m nervous.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about. Your husband worships the ground you walk on.”

  She stepped out into the chilly stone basement, hugged her arms tight across her chest, and glanced around. “Lyman, are you down here?”

  The lights in the workshop were on, but GRAMPA stood next to the workbench, alone and forlorn.

  “No one’s here.” Nick frowned. “Let’s go back up.”

  They checked the kitchen and living room but found them empty, too.

  Marian shook her head. “I can’t imagine where he is. He’s always so predictable. Every morning after breakfast he goes downstairs to work on that robot—no exceptions.” She tilted her head and paused for a moment. “There’s only one other place he might be.”

  Nick traipsed behind her across the foyer and down the hall to her husband’s study, where they found him seated at his desk, deep in conversation with Zoë. When they entered the room, he broke off mid-sentence, rose with a smile, and crossed to greet his wife with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Come in, my dear. I have something important to discuss with you.”

  Marian settled into a plump, upholstered chair next to the desk. “I have something to tell you, too.”

  Nick glanced at Zoë, who nodded in response to his silent question.

  Lyman rolled his chair close to Marian’s until they sat face to face, leaned over, and took her hands in his. “I’ll go first, if that’s all right.”

  “Okay.”

  He straightened and released a big breath, as if girding himself for battle. “Zoë is not a chef.”

  Marian’s light laugh held a note of relief. “Don’t be so hard on her. I think she’s doing fine. She’s certainly a better cook than I am.”

  Her husband pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, my dear, you misunderstand. I didn’t hire her to be a chef. I hired her to protect you. She’s a professional bodyguard.”

  Marian’s eyes rounded, and her mouth fell open. “But—”

  “I knew you would fuss,” Lyman continued, “but after the crash, I’m confident I made the right decision.”

  Marian glanced at Nick, and a giggle bubbled up and spilled out.

  Lyman stared at her as if she’d sprouted a third eye. “My dear, you must take this threat seriously. Those motorcycle maniacs could easily have injured you and the baby.”

  She sobered and squeezed his hands. “I know. And I am taking the situation seriously. So seriously, in fact, that I hired Nick.” She glanced at Nick again then back at her husband. “He isn’t here to drive you around because you wrecked your car. Well, he is…but I hired him mainly to watch out for you. He’s a bodyguard, too.”

  When Lyman shot him a glance, Nick raised his brows and shrugged.

  Marian framed her husband’s face with her hands and gazed into his eyes. “I love you, Lyman Prescott, and I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”

  “I love you, too.” He planted a tender kiss on her lips then sat back. “I must say this is a relief. You can’t imagine how much better I feel not keeping secrets from you.”

  “I think I can.” She glanced around the room from Lyman to Zoë to Nick. “And since we’re laying everything out in the open, I have another confession to make.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Another confession?

  Zoë’s pulse ticked up. She was relieved to be able to give up the chef/chauffeur pretense, but what else had Marian been hiding?

  Marian reached for her husband’s hand. “It’s about Jimmy.”

  Lyman’s naturally pale complexion took on a faint greenish tint, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, but he held firm. “Yes?”

  “He came to see me.”

  “Here?”

  Marian nodded and dropped her gaze to their intertwined fingers.

  Lyman’s head whipped around, and he lashed out at Zoë. “How did you let this happen? You were supposed to be protecting her.”

  Zoë’s throat tightened. What could she say? She’d failed. She’d let her charge meet with a criminal, although she hadn’t known it at the time. “I—”

  Marian interrupted. “It’s not her fault. Jimmy called, and I snuck out to meet him.”

  “Oh.” Lyman’s face crumpled before he pulled his hand free and stared out the window to the barren front yard.

  “It’s not like that,” Marian insisted. “It’s nothing like that. You have to believe me. All he wanted was money, and I didn’t give him a cent.”

  Before Lyman could respond, Nick stepped forward. “Excuse me, but I think Zoë and I should let you two have the rest of this conversation in private.”

  “No, sit down.” Marian motioned him toward the chair next to Zoë’s. “You need to hear everything. I think Jimmy might be responsible for at least some of what’s been happening here.”

  Zoë had had the same fear ever since she’d seen him at the summer house, wearing his leathers.

  Nick had reverted to cop mode and was all business. “Who is this Jimmy, and what makes you think he’s involved?”

  Marian shot a glance at Lyman then closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before releasing it. “Jimmy Mahoney is my ex-husband.”

  Nick jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “Jimmy Mahoney? The cop who went to prison? The partner of Rudy Gehke, who robbed the bank in Evanston and ran us into a tree? That Jimmy Mahoney?”

  Marian nodded miserably.

  Zoë pictured him standing in the clearing outside the summer house. “Do you think he could have been the other biker, the one who sped off? He didn’t even bother to check on your injuries.”

  “It might have been him—I was too scared to look closely at the time—but I wasn’t injured,” Marian insisted.

  “Mahoney couldn’t have known that.” Lyman tapped rhythmically on his desk with a pen clenched in one fist. “The day he was released from prison I warned you he would bring nothing but trouble.”

  Nick raised a forefinger. “We’ll get back to that, but first, Marian, can you think of any reason Jimmy would want to harm you?”

  “Honestly, no. I’ve known him since we were kids. We were high school sweethearts. He was always very protective of me—a little jealous, maybe, but not in a scary way.”

  “Prison can change a man. What about during his arrest and trial?”

  “He was
angry, of course, and I’m sure he must have been frightened.”

  “Did he ever blame you?”

  Marian straightened and cocked her head. “Why would he? He got himself into that mess.”

  “Did you testify against him?”

  “I wouldn’t put it like that. The detectives asked simple things like was he home on such-and-such a night. Since I didn’t know anything about what he and Rudy were doing, there was nothing to tell.”

  Nick sat back in his chair. “In his mind, your cooperation alone might have been enough. Plus, he’s had years to let his suspicions and resentment fester. He may have convinced himself you were at least partially responsible for sending him to prison.”

  Marian’s brow puckered. “I wonder if that’s why he demanded money. He kept saying I owe him. I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

  Nick’s questions had given Zoë a thought. “Marian, have you seen Jimmy at any other point since he was released?”

  “No. He called a few times, but that was the only time I agreed to meet him.”

  Zoë leaned forward, resting one arm on Lyman’s desk. “What about the gunman in the basement? Could that have been Jimmy?”

  Marian’s eyes rounded, and the natural pink faded from her cheeks. “I don’t know. I never considered it.”

  “He had roughly the same build.”

  “Maybe.” Marian shifted her gaze to her husband. “I didn’t focus on the intruder. I was only concerned about Lyman.”

  Nick pushed up from his chair and paced across the room. “I don’t like it. This doesn’t make sense. The gunman demanded the plans to GRAMPA, right?”

  Lyman nodded. “Yes. That’s all he wanted.”

  “What would a rogue cop, who was broke enough to resort to bank robbery, do with the plans to a cooking robot? I doubt he could build one himself.”

  “I suppose he could try to sell them,” Zoë suggested.

  Nick halted and faced her with impatience stamped across his hard features. “How would he find a buyer? It’s not like trying to fence a stolen TV.”

  He had her there. “You’re right. It doesn’t make any sense.” She scooted back in her chair. “Sorry. It was a dumb idea.”

  “Don’t apologize. No idea is dumb. At this point, we don’t have much to go on. The best thing we can do is toss ideas around, take them apart, and see if any hold up to scrutiny.”

  Zoë almost smiled. There was nothing funny about the situation with Jimmy Mahoney, but she enjoyed watching Nick in his element. Her first impression of him had been dark and sullen with very little to say, usually lurking around with a suspicious scowl on his face. Since getting to know him better, she’d learned to see past that gruff, laconic exterior. Now, with a case to solve, he exuded a whole new level of energy.

  She debated whether now was the time to bring up her encounters with the bikers but decided to take Nick at his word. “There’s something else I should probably mention. It might be nothing, but there could be a connection to Jimmy and Rudy.”

  Nick gave her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead.”

  “The morning I started this job I had two odd run-ins with a pair of bikers—once in the city on Lake Shore Drive and again outside the front gate of Strathmoor.”

  “Odd in what way?”

  She described both encounters then paused and glanced from Nick to Marian and back. “The bikes were similar to the two that drove us off the road, and one of the riders wore leathers that matched the ones Jimmy wore the day he met Marian. I doubt it’s a coincidence.”

  Nick perched on the corner of Lyman’s desk and rubbed both hands down his thighs. “I doubt that, too. But how would Jimmy and Rudy have known who you were? And how could they have known you’d be coming to Strathmoor that day?”

  “I have no idea.”

  When she met his gaze, the same idea seemed to flash between them. They turned to Marian in unison.

  She gave her head a vigorous shake. “Oh, no, it wasn’t me. I never told Jimmy we were getting a new chef. I never shared any details about our lives with him.” She reached for Lyman’s hand again, and when she spoke, her voice broke. “I swear. You have to believe me. I felt sorry for him, but our relationship died years ago. I just wanted him to go away and leave me alone.”

  Lyman squeezed her hand. “Of course, I believe you, my dear. You have never given me reason to doubt. That man is nothing but trouble.” Still clutching his wife’s hand like a lifeline, he turned to Nick. “The first order of business is to get Jimmy Mahoney behind bars again as soon as possible.”

  Nick nodded and rose from the desk. “The police are looking for him now.” He glanced at Marian. “If you have any information that might help them locate him you can call Officer Swanson, or I’d be happy to pass it on.”

  She hesitated with a little frown. “I don’t know where he’s been staying since his release. The police probably have better information than I do, but if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks. In the meantime, the Lake Forest police have promised to do more frequent patrols on this street, and Zoë and I will take care of security on the estate.”

  Marian turned to Zoë with a hopeful little smile. “I know you’ll be busy, but will you still be able to cook? If I try to take over now, I’m afraid we’ll all starve.”

  Zoë returned her smile. Marian was amazingly resilient, but she couldn’t imagine what the woman was going through, being eight months pregnant, with a broken arm, and dealing with the threats of a criminal—and possibly crazy—ex-husband. Cooking was the least she could do. “If you’re willing to eat what I cook, I’m happy to keep trying.”

  “We’re more than willing, and I’ll do my best to help. I’m sure I could learn a thing or two.” Marian gave a little laugh. “Maybe you and GRAMPA and I can try a few recipes together.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  The “big reveal” conversation seemed to have wrapped up, and Zoë had work to do. She started to rise, and Nick had already edged toward the door when Lyman stopped them.

  “I have an idea.”

  Nick turned, and they both waited while he helped Marian from her chair.

  “Since Thanksgiving is only a week away, why don’t the three of us spend some time experimenting on a few holiday recipes with GRAMPA?”

  Marian smiled. “I know I’ve complained before about him creeping me out, but that actually sounds kind of fun.”

  “You deserve some fun, my dear. You’ve had far too many worries lately. It isn’t good for you or the baby. We’ll continue to be careful, of course, but Zoë will be with us, and I’m confident Dominic and the police can handle security for the house and grounds.”

  The lines between Nick’s brows eased, and his shoulders seemed to relax a fraction. “That’s a great idea.”

  Zoë wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not. Was he relieved to be able to do his job without pretense, or was he happy to have her relegated to the kitchen where she was less likely to interfere?

  Whatever Nick’s thoughts, he kept them to himself and kept himself largely out of her way for the next several days. He patrolled the grounds and sat in when Sergeant Lewis came to interview Marian about her ex-husband. He also took a couple of mornings to spread two coats of sunny yellow paint on the nursery walls after Zoë helped Marian finalize the decor.

  Otherwise, Zoë, Marian, and Lyman spent most of the mornings in the kitchen with GRAMPA. The robot turned out to be a whiz at making breadcrumb stuffing but still struggled with vegetables. Zoë spent one entire afternoon on her hands and knees or on a step stool, sponge in hand, dealing with the aftermath of a serious cranberry incident. Thereafter, she vowed any future sauce would come from a can.

  Wednesday afternoon, the day before Thanksgiving, Nick drove the women to the grocery store in the loaner Escalade, which Zoë had nicknamed the Black Beast. The body shop estimated another week before his truck would be ready. Not that she was complaining—the Bea
st was as heavy and solid as a Sherman tank. With Nick beside her, she knew Marian was safe from any threat.

  She and Marian chose a fat fresh turkey and fresh green beans and yams, leaving Nick to trail behind with the cart. They also picked up a sack of potatoes for Lyman and GRAMPA, who were in charge of the mashed potatoes. Since she no longer had to pretend to be a professional chef, Zoë happily snagged a bag of rolls from the bakery department. And for dessert, she had agreed to bake a pumpkin pie, as long as the pumpkin came from a can. By the time they’d added all the other necessary odds and ends, the cart was mounded high, and Nick was grumbling under his breath as he pushed it toward the checkout counter.

  Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones who had saved their holiday shopping for the last minute. It took twenty-five minutes to get through the line, check out, and load the bags in the car. By the time they reached Strathmoor, Marian’s eyelids were drooping, and she stifled a huge yawn.

  Nick parked as close to the back door as possible then turned to Zoë. “I’ll take care of the groceries.”

  “Thanks.”

  She popped out, opened Marian’s door, and helped her step down from the tall vehicle. “Why don’t you put your feet up and watch some TV in the living room, and I’ll bring you a cup of tea?”

  Marian sighed. “That sounds great. Between the cast and the baby, you’d be amazed how tiring it is dragging all this extra weight around.”

  “At least it won’t be much longer.”

  Zoë punched in the code and unlocked the back door, ushering Marian into the kitchen. She was grateful that since the incident with the armed intruder, Lyman had been much more diligent about the locks and alarms. After settling Marian in front of a re-run of Castle with a cup of tea, she returned to the kitchen and found Nick unpacking the groceries.

  He hefted the twenty-five pound turkey in both hands as if testing its weight. “This is a mighty big bird for four people.”

  Zoë opened the refrigerator door for him. “It had the best shape and nice full breasts.”

  Omigosh. I am such an idiot! Heat rushed to her face, and she fought a sudden urge to tuck her head inside her sweater.