Kay Hooper - Stealing Shadows

Ben wasn't tempted to laugh, even though the speech had obviously been rehearsed and was delivered with condescending relish. Aaron King was a pompous windbag, but he had the knack of rallying others around him, and considering the tension of the townspeople, it was likely he could gather quite a mob to demand action if the investigation didn't soon result in an arrest. Especially if there was another murder.

Calmly Ben responded, "And rightly so, Mr. King. If we don't do our jobs, we should step down. But, I assure you, we are doing our jobs. Thank you for your opinion and your interest. I'll pass on both to Sheriff Dunbar."

Faced with courtesy, Aaron could only incline his head in stately acceptance, execute a turn with military precision, and march away – a grand departure somewhat spoiled by the fact that he slipped on a patch of ice in a shady spot on the walkway and nearly fell on his ass.

Ben still wasn't tempted to laugh. In fact, he felt more than a little grim, and not because he feared losing his job.

Cassie was becoming all too visible, and despite the wild mix of rumor and speculation concerning the extent of her abilities, it would not require confirmation for at least one citizen of the town to view her as a dangerous threat.

And he had more than a job to lose.

Abby probably wouldn't have felt brave enough to leave the house on Friday afternoon, not after Gary 's sudden and menacing appearance the night before, if it hadn't been for Bryce. But luckily for her, the dog was not only companionable, he was also well trained.

It was also lucky for her that the snow had closed numerous businesses for the day, including the financial services office where she worked, because otherwise she might have upset her boss by bringing her dog along.

"I'll be much less jumpy by Monday," she told Bryce that afternoon as she backed her car out of the driveway. "We'll have a nice, peaceful weekend, and on Monday the security company will install all the new lights. But right now we have to go out to the mall and get that padlock. And some chew toys so you won't eat any more of my slippers."

The Irish setter sat up like people in the passenger seat beside her and lolled his tongue out in a happy grin. He loved riding in the car.

He wouldn't much like waiting in the car, Abby knew, but the mall didn't allow pets. It would be for only half an hour though, just long enough for her to do her shopping.

The mall was safe enough, certainly.

It was two-thirty on the dot when Phillip McDaniel rang Cassie's doorbell. Since she had expected him to be prompt – he didn't seem to know how to be anything else – Cassie was opening the door while his finger was still on the button.

"Hello, Mr. McDaniel. Come in, please."

"Thank you." He stepped inside, eyed the growling dog at her side, and said, "You can let go of him, Miss Neill. Dogs never bite me. I have no idea why, but there it is." He was a tall and painfully thin man of perhaps seventy, with a snowy goatee and a full head of white hair, and there was an air of dignified elegance about him.

Maybe it was that gentle composure that prevented dogs from attacking. Or maybe it was just because there was so little meat on his bones.

Reluctant to put either theory to the test, Cassie performed the usual introductions, and Max followed them quite happily into the living room.

"Let me take your coat," she said to the lawyer. He was the sort of man who wore a trench coat on chilly days; today it was accompanied by a muffler and kid gloves.

But McDaniel shook his head and gave her a pained look out of grave eyes. "I can stay only a moment, Miss Neill. And, truthfully, you may order me to go when I have explained my errand."

"Good heavens," Cassie said mildly. "Why would I do that, Mr. McDaniel?"

"Because I am guilty of a terrible breach of trust, to say nothing of duty and responsibility."

He said it as though he fully expected to be keelhauled or drawn and quartered for the crime, but since Cassie liked him and since she couldn't imagine him deliberately harming anyone, she didn't hesitate to say, "I'm sure whatever you did was quite unintentional, Mr. McDaniel."

"That hardly absolves me."

"Well, why don't you tell me what it is, and then we can put it behind us."

He drew a sealed envelope from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to her. "This was given to me by your aunt some months before her death, Miss Neill."

Cassie looked at her name scrawled across the envelope in what she recognized as her aunt's hand, and then looked inquiringly at the lawyer. "And it was somehow forgotten during probate? That's quite all right, Mr. McDaniel. I'm sure it's just a personal letter I probably wouldn't have read until now anyway, so no harm done."

"Indeed, she assured me it was a personal message for you, but…" McDaniel shook his head. "I'm afraid there has been harm, Miss Neill, although I don't know – " He drew a breath. "Your aunt gave me the envelope with very specific instructions, and I gave her my word I would obey those instructions."

"Which were?"

"To place the envelope in your hands on the twelfth of February of this year."

Cassie blinked. "I see. That would have been… about two weeks ago."

"Hence my failure. Miss Neill, I am so sorry. As you know, your aunt was one of my last clients, taken on at her insistence even though I was on the point of retiring when she came to me and asked that I handle her will and estate planning. In the last year I've been gradually closing out my offices, and I'm afraid your aunt's envelope and the instructions simply got lost in the shuffle." He sighed. "My memory isn't what it once was, and I'm afraid I completely forgot about it."

She knew he was deeply upset by his failure and quickly said, "It could have happened to anyone, Mr. McDaniel. Please don't worry about it. I'm sure my aunt wouldn't be at all upset – it's only a two-week delay, after all. What could that matter?"

"I'm afraid it may matter very much, Miss Neill, although I can't, of course, know how. Miss Melton assured me that there was nothing of legal significance in the envelope, only a personal message for you, but she was most insistent that it be delivered on the twelfth of February. Not before and not after. The date seemed highly significant to her. And, perhaps, to you."

Cassie eyed him consideringly. "She told you that? That the date would mean something to me?"

"Not precisely." He was uncomfortable. "But I was aware that Miss Melton occasionally – knew things. Her intensity convinced me that her message to you might be in the nature of advice or, even, a warning of some kind."

"I wouldn't have said you were the type of man who'd believe in things like that," Cassie said.

"Normally I'm not. But she – really, Miss Neill, she seemed quite desperate. I'm afraid the message was terribly important to her."

"Well, why don't I – " As Cassie went to open the envelope, McDaniel's outstretched hand stopped her.

"Your aunt wished you to read it when you were alone, Miss Neill. She was quite specific about that instruction."

Cassie didn't know whether to be amused or worried, but the latter emotion was beginning to take precedence. "I see. Well, then that's what I'll do. Did she leave any further instructions?"

"Not with me," McDaniel replied. "I am so sorry, Miss Neill." He began to back away. "I'll let myself out."

Cassie found herself staring at empty space and blinked when the closing of the front door was followed quickly by the sound of a car engine starting. For an older gentleman, he could move when he wanted to.

She sat down on the sofa and stared at the envelope.

"What do you think, Max? Is it a case of better late than never? Or should I throw this into the fire unread?"