Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Page 17

  “What do you think is going on?”

  “Right now, it looks like a couple of biker gangs out of Hollister and Fresno have moved into the area and are supplying the stuff to local dealers.”

  Laurel thought about the pair of bikers she’d seen outside Martin’s shop and again cruising past her on the street. Maybe they weren’t antiques lovers after all. “That’s kind of scary. Carmel-by-the-Sea has always seemed like a fairy-tale village, a haven from the ugly realities of modern life.”

  “We may be small, but we get our share of real crime. No place is immune these days, believe me.” Melody chewed her bread for a minute then smiled. “There is a silver lining, however. I get to work with your favorite FBI agent.”

  Laurel sat up straighter. “Jake?”

  Melody’s smile widened into a knowing grin. “That’s the one. He’s handling the money-laundering aspect of the investigation.” Her grin took on a sly cast as she casually buttered another chunk of bread. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him lately.”

  Laurel restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “Actually, he helped me move on Wednesday.”

  “I sense an and.”

  “And I’m cooking dinner for him tonight.”

  Melody leaned across the small table and slapped her arm. “That’s the way. Good for you!”

  Before Laurel could respond, the server appeared with their soup. A thick layer of lightly browned, melted Swiss cheese covered the top of each bowl. Laurel poked it with her spoon, breaking the single giant floating crouton into manageable bites.

  Melody pushed hers down and held it captive under the broth, apparently preferring the disintegration method. “Something else happened yesterday. I wasn’t sure whether to mention it, but it might bring you some relief.” She hesitated a moment then glanced up to meet Laurel’s expectant gaze. “Richard’s business partner came in to claim the body.”

  Laurel’s pulse skittered. “Sergei claimed Richard’s body?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am, although I guess I shouldn’t be. Richard was an only child, and his parents died a few years ago. He never mentioned having any other family. While they weren’t exactly friends, Sergei might have been the closest person to him.”

  “At least you don’t have to worry about it.” Melody tested a spoonful of soup for temperature then popped it into her mouth.

  Laurel pondered her friend’s surprising news. If Sergei had claimed Richard’s body, he would have to take it back to Seattle for burial as soon as arrangements could be made for transport. The morgue wasn’t going to store it any longer than they had to.

  The news of the Russian’s imminent departure eased a subtle tightness in her chest, and suddenly she was starving.

  However, her nerves amped up again that afternoon as she tried to figure out what to serve Jake for dinner. She considered several possibilities but discarded them as either too complicated, too simple, or too unusual. She wished she had a better handle on his tastes. Based on the times they’d eaten together, he seemed to be a non-discriminating omnivore, but maybe he was just being polite.

  Ultimately, she settled on a tossed salad and pasta with roasted vegetables and stopped at the organic market in town before heading home. Her mother would have been delighted to supply her with choice produce from the restaurant kitchen, but Laurel wasn’t ready to share the fact that she was seeing Jake on a social basis. Their relationship was too new and fragile. She wanted to give it a chance to grow before exposing it to the energetic scrutiny of her mother and sisters.

  At seven-twenty, she stirred the vegetables in the roasting pan, put a big pot of water on the stove to boil, and went into the bathroom to freshen up and brush her hair. She gazed at her image in the mirror with a critical eye before puckering her lips and pulling her hair into a casual up-do. She let her hair drop into its natural soft mass over her shoulders. This wasn’t that kind of date. She’d already changed into black knit pants and a soft gray sweater as soon as she got home. Better to keep things casual.

  At the stroke of seven-thirty, a series of firm knocks sounded at the door. Jake was right on time. He was never late. Like he said, a regular Boy Scout.

  When Laurel opened the door, she was met with a bountiful bouquet of grocery store daisies and a bottle of wine. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. He was even wearing a decent pair of slacks. He obviously considered this a serious date. Maybe she should have gone with the up-do.

  She accepted the gifts and stepped back to allow him inside. “Um, thanks. You didn’t need to do this.”

  “Sure, I did. I could almost hear my mom’s voice in my ear—Do you want her to think you were raised in a barn?”

  She laughed. “But you kind of were, weren’t you?”

  He chuckled, too. “Kind of, but I don’t think Mom would accept that excuse.”

  She led the way to the kitchenette and pointed to a pair of wine glasses and a corkscrew on the counter. “You do the honors while I find something to put these flowers in.”

  He peeled off the heavy foil cap and worked the screw into the cork. “I don’t know much about wine, and I didn’t know what you were cooking. The clerk at the wine shop recommended this, so it’s her fault if you don’t like it.”

  “It’s a local Chardonnay. I’m sure it will be good.”

  It was, and so was the pasta. Jake ate with enthusiasm, and when he reached for the bowl to help himself to a second serving, Laurel gave herself a mental pat on the back.

  He twirled his fork in the fettuccine then stabbed a chunk of caramelized carrot. “I meant to ask earlier, how was your lunch with Melody?”

  “Good. She told me you’re working together now.”

  “Sort of. We’ve both been assigned to a joint task force, but so far I’ve only seen her once at the kick-off meeting.”

  While she sipped her wine, Laurel wondered if he was aware of Melody’s other news. “She also told me Sergei claimed Richard’s body from the morgue yesterday.”

  His fork halted half-way to his mouth. “Really?”

  She nodded. “I expect he’ll fly back to Seattle as soon as possible. He might already be gone.”

  “That would be good news on a number of fronts.” He popped his fork into his mouth, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “I don’t know how it might affect your investigation, but I do know I’ll be happy if I never see him again.”

  “For your sake, as well as mine, I hope he stays in Seattle, where the local field office can keep an eye on him. The Bureau would like to wrap up the investigation as quickly as possible, but a case this size often takes years of painstaking work. At the moment we have our hands full here without throwing Ivanov into the mix.”

  Laurel split the remaining wine between their glasses then raised hers in a toast. “Here’s to Sergei in Seattle—permanently!” They clinked glasses and finished their wine.

  Jake helped clear the table and volunteered to dry as Laurel washed the dishes, an offer she accepted. Neither space nor budget had allowed for a dishwasher, and it seemed like a waste for only one person.

  As they worked, she tried to decide what to do next. Would he simply say goodnight and leave? Should she ask him to stay? If she did, what would he expect? What did normal people do in a situation like this? She was a total rookie when it came to grown-up-style dating. Most of the men she’d dated before Richard had been students or artists, more into hanging out in groups than intimate dinners for two. And from the moment she met Richard, he had been in charge of every aspect of their relationship. Being responsible for her own decisions was as scary as it was exhilarating.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t make any dessert. Would you like coffee or something?”

  Jake flashed one brow suggestively. “A little something would be nice.”

  Her reaction was instant and automatic.

  He burst out laughing. “You should see the look on your face! Relax. I’m not getting ready
to whip out a pair of handcuffs and suggest a game of naughty policeman.”

  “Do you carry handcuffs around all the time?”

  He laughed again. “No. I’m an accountant, remember? I was just trying to lighten things up a little.” His expression sobered and he laid gentle hands on her shoulders. “You’ve been through a lot recently—I get that—and I don’t want to pressure you. I like you and, unless I’m reading you all wrong, you like me.”

  Heat rose in Laurel’s cheeks. “I do.”

  “I recognize we’ve both got a lot of serious stuff going on right now, but I want us to have fun together. What do you think?”

  Her tension dissolved like a spoonful of sugar in a cup of hot tea. With a smile, she swayed towards him, and his hands slid from her shoulders to her back as he gathered her close. “Sounds like a plan.”

  When his mouth came down on hers, she closed her eyes, shut off her hyperactive brain, and gave herself up to the luxury of pure sensation.

  ****

  For the next week, every day seemed to get busier. Holiday shopping season was in full swing, and the town was brimming with visitors. Happily, many of those visitors wanted to buy paintings, either as gifts or souvenirs of their trip. Laurel had to cancel her regular Friday lunch date with Melody and gobble down a few crackers and a handful of grapes in the back room of the gallery because she couldn’t spare enough time to go to a restaurant.

  In rare quiet moments, she still struggled with thoughts of Richard and the shock of his death. It still didn’t seem real—maybe because she hadn’t seen a body or attended a funeral. She knew she wouldn’t see him again, but it wasn’t because he was miles away in Seattle going about his business. He was gone. Vanished. Plucked from the universe.

  She refused to spend time trying to figure out who had killed him. That job belonged to the Sheriff’s Department investigators. He might have been knifed in a mugging. He might have been murdered by agents of that Russian gangster Jake was investigating. Whatever shady schemes Richard had been involved in might have finally caught up with him. It didn’t matter.

  Despite her efforts to come to grips with his death, she couldn’t seem to shake an underlying sense of unease. Whenever her phone rang, she tensed, some tiny part of her expecting to hear his voice. A few times, walking to and from her car, she thought she saw the same nondescript white sedan circling the block but chided herself for being paranoid. Richard was dead, Sergei had returned to Seattle, and in California, small white Japanese cars were ubiquitous. In Carmel, they probably held tourists searching for a parking place.

  Jake called a couple of times, late in the evening, so their conversations were brief. The task force investigation was picking up steam, and he’d stayed at work until after nine o’clock several nights. His first bit of good news was that the Sheriff’s Department had been able to confirm with the airlines that Sergei had indeed departed Monterey airport for Seattle on Saturday morning, along with Richard’s body. The information lifted a weight from Laurel’s shoulders. Her mood only improved when he later invited her to drive up the coast for brunch on Sunday at a cute, funky Mexican place everyone was talking about.

  When she woke up Sunday morning, broody gray clouds hung low over the ocean, dampening her windows with mist. Not the best weather for a drive, but it didn’t matter. She was glad for a day off and was determined to have a good time in spite of the weather. By the time Jake arrived at eleven, the mist had consolidated into light, spitting rain.

  As soon as she opened the door to his knock, he slipped inside. Removing his damp baseball cap, he wiped his boots on the mat. “You need a roof over the landing at the top of your stairs. I could build you one as soon as things slow down at work.”

  She replied with a wry smile. “Thanks for the offer, but based on what you’ve told me about your case, that could be next year.”

  “Maybe not. We’re making progress.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” And she was. Based on what Victor had said, business at the gallery would drop off after the first of the year. If things calmed down for Jake, too, they would be able to spend more time together and see where their budding relationship took them.

  He started to put his cap back on then hesitated. “I’m afraid we won’t have much of a view on the drive up to Moss Landing. Are you sure you still want to go?”

  “Of course. As long as I’m on dry land, I love the sight of a stormy sea. Don’t tell me a little moisture would stop a rugged outdoorsman like you.”

  “Never. My truck may not look like much, but it’s got new tires and is ready for anything.”

  She reached for her jacket, hanging on a peg near the door. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  The weather remained blustery and damp but never developed into anything worse, so the drive up the coast was relatively uneventful, allowing them to converse without distraction.

  Laurel eyed his jeans-clad legs with amusement. “I see you’re wearing real pants today. Did it finally get too cold for you?”

  “No, but this particular rugged outdoorsman has never enjoyed the feeling of wet legs.”

  “So, you’re fair-weather rugged, is that it?”

  He laughed. “Indoors or out, I prefer comfort.”

  “Me, too. I’ll never forget the time my dad took me and my sisters camping. I think I was nine. He neglected to tell me there were no bathrooms at the campground, and we were expected to pee in the woods, sitting on a low-hanging tree branch. I was horrified!”

  Jake shot her a quick sideways glance and hooted with laughter at her disgruntled expression. “I bet you were.”

  “Oh, and I suppose you were always Mr. Cool as a kid.”

  “Naturally. Although, I have to admit I didn’t manage to hold it all together on my first trip to the Minnesota State Fair in St. Paul.”

  Laurel straightened in her seat. “What happened?”

  “My older brother and I dared each other to eat four helpings of cheese curds before we rode the giant swinging pirate ship. You can probably guess the rest.”

  She grimaced. “I’m afraid I can.”

  “It was so bad, we both had the dry heaves all the way home in the car. My mom was not pleased.”

  Fortunately, their conversation moved on to less unsavory topics before they reached the restaurant.

  Lunch was fun. The Haute Tamale was cute and colorful, with huevos rancheros almost as good as her mother’s. Laurel could almost feel her stress dissipating with each mouthful. On the drive home, she was mortified when she awoke in the car with a start and realized she’d nodded off somewhere south of Carmel-by-the-Sea.

  Jake grinned as he wheeled the truck into the Earthly Delights parking lot and headed for the gravel drive that led to the house. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to relax.”

  “A little too comfortable,” she grumbled.

  He parked in front of the garage, near the base of the steps, and came around to open her door and help her down. He slung one arm over her shoulders to protect her from the weather, and they climbed the stairs side by side. At the top, she clasped the knob and stuck her key in the lock, but before she could turn it, the door swung open. The gears in her sleep-fogged brain ground slowly. Something wasn’t right. She stepped inside and let out a strangled shriek.

  Her closet doors hung open, with the contents spread across the bed and floor. The sofa cushions were upended and unzipped, and half the contents of the bookshelves were strewn around the room. Several pieces of pottery lay in shards on the floor, and a foot-tall bronze sculpture of a dolphin she’d made in art school had fallen, leaving a small gouge in her new coffee table. Rufus stood above it on the table and yowled his most outraged yowl.

  Jake stepped in behind her. “What the—?”

  Laurel remained frozen in place, trembling from head to foot, unable to process the sight. Tears stung her eyes. Her beautiful apartment. Her first personal space. Violated.

  Rufus hopped down and marched
over to her, yelling the whole time. Still stunned, she knelt to give his head a reassuring rub.

  Mrroww!!!

  Jake was already on his phone with the 9-1-1 operator. As soon as he ended the call, he crouched beside her. “What’s the matter? Is he hurt?”

  She tried to examine the cat’s head through his dense fur. “I don’t think so. I can’t find any injuries, but he sure is mad.”

  “Let me take a look.” Jake offered his hand to the feline, who sniffed it then bumped it with a loud purr. “He’s not acting like he’s in pain.” When he stroked the top of Rufus’s head, the cat tipped his head back and closed his eyes in blissful satisfaction. “I’m sure it upset him to have an intruder in the house, but he seems fine now.”

  Laurel smoothed a hand down Rufus’s back from his shoulders to the tip of his fluffy tail. “He likes to think he’s a tough guy, but he must have been frightened. I would never forgive myself if something happened to him.”

  Jake stood. “None of this mess was your fault. Let’s see if we can figure out what happened before the Sheriff’s deputies get here. Just be careful not to touch anything.”

  Still feeling shaky, but relieved that Rufus seemed fine, she pushed to her feet. “I think what happened is obvious. Someone broke into my apartment.”

  Jake cast a sweeping glance around the room. “Can you tell if anything’s missing?”

  “Nothing jumps out at me. I don’t have any cash or expensive jewelry. I don’t even own a TV. My laptop’s the only thing of any value, and it’s so old I doubt it would be worth a thief’s trouble. Besides, it’s still sitting on the counter where I left it.” She gestured toward the kitchen area. “Maybe the burglar trashed the place because he was angry he’d picked such a loser to rob.” She had a thought, and sudden panic squeezed her throat. “My mom! It’s the middle of the afternoon—she should be at home now.” She glanced around frantically. “What if—”