Dawn Stewardson - Close Neighbors

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t just pretending?”

“Uh-huh. She told me her father’s one and she used to work for him. Only, then she decided she liked writing books better.”

“Really,” he said again, his brain shifting gears.

Here he was, not knowing what on earth he should do, and he’d suddenly acquired a neighbor who might be able to give him some advice.

She was like a gift from fate. And even though he’d never normally impose on a woman he barely knew, these were hardly normal circumstances.

Surreptitiously, he glanced at Julie. He didn’t want her any more involved in this than she already was. Yet he could hardly tell her to stay here while he went and talked to Anne without her. Not when, if she hadn’t gone over there in the first place…

Deciding he’d just have to play things by ear, and send her home at the first opportune moment, he said, “Julie? Do you think it would be okay if I went back over and talked to Anne with you?”

ANNE HAD BEEN SURE that Julie would reappear, but she hadn’t expected it to be this soon. She’d barely gotten started on the opening scene of her book before the girl came through the gate again—her father in tow.

Closing her laptop, she manufactured a smile.

“This time you were trying to get some work done,” Chase said as they sat down. “So I apologize for bothering you. But Julie tells me you used to be a P.I. And since the problem she wanted to ask you about is a family matter, I thought, if you don’t mind my sitting in…”

“No, of course not,” she lied. In truth, the idea made her very uncomfortable.

Having a child ask for advice was one thing. Adding her father to the mix was something else entirely. Besides which, she’d assumed Julie wanted to talk about some little-girl issue, not an adult-serious problem.

“Thanks,” he said. “I really appreciate that,” he added, giving her such an engaging smile she decided she only felt marginally uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you pick up where you left off,” he suggested to Julie.

She nodded, then looked across the table and gnawed on her lower lip for a few seconds. “Have you seen on TV about the man who got killed in High Park?” she finally asked.

“No, my TV’s not hooked up yet. But I heard something about it on the radio last night.” Surely, though, their problem didn’t have anything to do with that. “He was a police detective, wasn’t he?”

“Uh-huh. And he used to be my aunt Rachel’s boyfriend.”

“Really.” She tried not to sound surprised.

“Rachel broke up with him less than a week ago,” Chase added.

“And the TV people keep talking about her,” Julie added. “I mean, they don’t say her name. They only call her his ex-girlfriend. But it’s her. And they’re making it sound like the police think she killed him. And yesterday, two police detectives came to talk to her and my dad. And they had a million questions for both of you. Right, Dad?”

“Right.”

“Why you?” Anne asked him.

“Because Rachel was with Graham for a while on Wednesday evening. And, basically, they wanted my recollection about what time she left and came home.”

“’Cuz they don’t believe what she told them,” Julie said. “That’s why she’s afraid.”

“Julie—”

“Daddy, she is. I can tell.” The girl focused on Anne again. “And I thought you’d know how to make them see she’d never kill anyone.”

Anne looked at Chase once more.

His gaze flickered to his daughter. Then he nodded almost imperceptibly toward their house.

She began breathing more easily. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to say another word about this in front of Julie.

“So…making the police see that someone’s innocent,” she said to the girl. “That sort of thing always needs some thinking time.

“I assume the detectives gave you the standard warning?” she continued, turning toward Chase. “Told you you’re only allowed to discuss what you talked to them about with a lawyer? Or a private investigator?” she added pointedly.

“It’s a good thing you reminded me,” he said, a relieved expression crossing his face.

“But Anne is a private investigator,” Julie told him. “At least, she was. Doesn’t that count, Anne?”

“Yes, it does. But I’m afraid it means your dad won’t be able to tell me about that conversation in front of you.”

“But…that’s not fair!”

“Baby, you wouldn’t want me to get into trouble, would you?”

“N-o-o, but—”

“Then how about if you go home. And after I finish talking to Anne, I’ll tell you what she thinks.”

“Oh, D-a-a-d.”

Chase gave her an exaggerated shrug. “There’s no other way, Julie. Besides, it’s time somebody looked in on Rachel. You could see if she’d like some tea or something.”

With obvious reluctance, the child pushed back her chair.

“Julie?” Anne said. “Do you want to come back after lunch? For a swim?”

She glanced at her father. When he nodded, she shot Anne a small smile. “Sure. Thanks.”

“See you later, then.”

“That was nice of you,” Chase said as Julie started across the yard.

“Well, I’ll want a swim, anyway, and she’s a real sweetheart. I’m just afraid she’s going to be disappointed in me. No matter how much thinking I do, I doubt I’ll figure out a way of convincing the police about Rachel.”

“I know. Hoping you would wasn’t one of her more realistic expectations. But there’s a different problem that I wanted to ask you about.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Something happened last night that I’m not sure how to handle. A man called me, claiming to have the gun that killed Graham Lowe. He told me it’s mine for two hundred thousand bucks. Otherwise, he’ll use it to pin the murder on Rachel.”

HOW ON EARTH, ANNE ASKED herself, had things escalated so rapidly from a little girl seeking her advice to a man needing it? And not just any man, but one who’d become the victim of an extortion attempt because his sister was a murder suspect.

She gazed across the sun-drenched pool, thinking that when the Nicholsons had a problem it was certainly a major leaguer. And regardless of whether it made her uncomfortable, now that Chase had begun talking about it she had little choice but to hear him out.

“So,” she said, turning toward him with what she hoped was an encouraging expression. “When you said you’re not sure how to handle the phone call, does that mean you haven’t reported it to the police?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Then I guess my first question is, why not?”

Silence stretched between them until he said, “You know, all of a sudden I’m feeling like an idiot—and wondering what the devil possessed me to come over here. I mean, we’ve barely met, so…”

She simply waited, watching him. On the surface, he appeared relaxed, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, but no one looking closely would mistake him for a man at ease. His dark eyes were clouded with worry, and there was a tightness around his mouth.

“When Julie said you’d been a detective…” he finally continued. “But, no. I should have realized that imposing on you was totally inappropriate.” He began to rise. “This doesn’t concern you, and—”

“Wait, it’s all right,” she said, aware as the words came out that she might regret them.

Giving advice to a virtual stranger could be risky business, so she’d probably be wiser to just let him leave. But something about him made her want to help.

Before she could decide exactly what it was, he said, “You’re sure it’s okay?”