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A Dangerous Inheritance
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand without answering, and she knew the hotel must be bringing back tortured memories of his sister’s death.
About halfway down the east wing, they came to a wide mahogany door, which was a startling contrast to the unpainted doors of the other small hotel rooms.
Josh tried the door, but it was locked. “I don’t think I can budge this one,” he said as he eyed the thick panels.
Stacy reached into her purse. “The lawyer gave me this ring of keys. Maybe one of these will work.”
The first two keys he tried didn’t fit the lock, but the third one turned with a rewarding click. He cautiously opened the door, and they waited for a few seconds to make sure it wasn’t booby-trapped. Then they walked in.
“I don’t believe it!” Stacy said in a stunned voice. After the ugly debacle in the rest of the place, the furnished apartment at the front of the building was a total shock.
“Well, I’ll be,” Josh muttered in total surprise.
Stacy walked around the rooms in a trance. Walls had been torn out to open up the spacious areas of a living room, dining alcove and modern kitchenette. The decor was definitely masculine: the walnut furniture was dark and heavy, plain beige drapes hung at the windows, and brown carpeting covered the floors throughout. All the pictures were prints of western scenes. No personal effects were visible in any of the rooms, and closets and drawers were empty. Even the bathroom was void of towels, soap and shower mat.
There was a telephone, and a blessed hum met Stacy’s ears when she checked the line. Good. Now she’d be able to call the car rental company, tell them what had happened and find out what she should do.
She wondered if the lawyer had arranged for her uncle’s possessions to be boxed and stored somewhere. It was as if the apartment had been stripped of everything belonging to an earlier occupant. Even though there was an eerie emptiness in the dusty rooms, Stacy couldn’t hold back the tears of relief. Thank God, she’d found livable quarters.
Josh’s reaction was at the opposite end of the scale. Up until now, he’d been certain that Stacy would have to find accommodations in Timberlane whether she wanted to or not.
As he stared out a glass door at the wrought-iron balcony, his chest tightened. The thought of any unprotected woman living in this abhorrent place alarmed him.
“Well, I guess that settles it,” he heard Stacy say in a relieved tone as she came out of the bedroom. “I can stay here and be very comfortable while I see to the renovations and arrange for—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he interrupted her. “You should ask for legal permission to live elsewhere. At least, until you get some security measures put in place.”
“There’s a good lock on this door.”
“But what about the rest of the place? Anybody could wander in, night or day. It’s not safe for a woman to be staying here alone.” He glanced once more at the balcony. “Not safe at all.”
“Josh, I’m not Glenda,” she said quietly, reading his thoughts.
“No, and I’m hoping you have a lot more sense than she did.” He softened his tone. “Stacy, the whole stability of the building is in question—ceilings, walls, floors and the like. The entire place should be condemned and be done with it.”
“Thanks for your opinion. I’ll keep it in mind, but for the moment, I think I’ll bring my bags up from the lobby and get settled in.” She headed out the door and started down the stairs.
As he kept pace with her, he argued. “That ceiling beam that nearly crushed our skulls could be a warning that all kinds of accidents are waiting to happen.” If it was an accident, he added to himself.
“I have enough sense not to expose myself to unnecessary danger.”
“If you have a choice.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted truthfully. “I just don’t like the vibrations in this place.”
She nodded. “After what happened to Glenda, I can understand that. But my circumstances are different. Once the renovations are completed, I’ll get rid of the place and be free to get on with my life. I appreciate your concern, really I do.” As she looked at him, their eyes caught on some undefined emotional level that made them both look away quickly.
They had just reached the lower floor when sounds at the front door reached them. The light they’d left on in the party room dissipated the shadows in the foyer, and as the door opened they could see clearly the stocky, middle-aged man who stepped inside.
Dressed in a brown uniform, he wore a badge and a gun holster hung on one side. Giving his western hat a tilt backward, he centered a pair of probing eyes on them. “They told me at the Pantry that you two had been in earlier.”
“That’s right, Sheriff,” Josh said, forcing himself to use a civil tone. “What can we do for you?”
His ruddy face deepened. “I think you got it all wrong, young fellow. I’m here to see what I can do for…Miss Ashford, isn’t it?” He held out a weathered hand. “Mighty pleased to meet you. Sheriff Mosley.”
Stacy murmured a polite response, conscious of the hostility vibrating between the two men as strong as a head wind.
“Is that a key to the front door?” Josh asked abruptly as the sheriff fingered it with one of his hands.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” He scowled. “It’s really none of your business, Josh, but I’ve been seeing to the property at the request of this lady’s lawyer, Mr. Doughty.”
“Is that why Chester and Rob have had the run of the place? They were inside when we got here this morning.”
Stacy intervened quickly, trying to head off a building confrontation. “I understand that the two men were employed by Uncle Willard. I want to get the place in saleable shape as quickly as possible, and they seemed to be receptive to working for me.”
“I’m sure they would, ma’am. They aren’t the smartest yahoos in the world, but pretty good with their hands. Of course, there’s a need for someone to supervise them.”
“That would be me,” Josh stated, ignoring the slight intake of Stacy’s breath. “I happen to be free right now.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe Miss Ashford ought to take a little time before making any decisions.” Then he added, as if Josh was responsible for any lack of judgment on her part, “I heard she spent the night at your place last night.”
“Yes, I did,” Stacy answered herself, irritated that the sheriff was talking about her as if she weren’t there. Caught in an undercurrent between these two men, her temper flared. “I wrecked my car in the storm, as you probably know.”
She’d bet that Marci, Alice and Ted had spread the story faster than a television news bulletin. The whole town probably knew that Weird Willy’s heir was here to claim her inheritance and handsome Josh Spencer already had her in tow. “I appreciate your concern, Sheriff, but I assure you that I’m more than capable of handling my affairs.”
“And I welcome the chance to have myself a look into some of the things that Renquist might have left—before he took off,” Josh said, warming to the idea even as he spoke.
“Renquist had nothing to do with your sister’s death,” the sheriff snapped. “Everything that went on here was within the law.”
“Whose law?” Josh challenged. “Yours?”
Mosley slammed his right hand on his gun as if warning Josh that he was stepping into dangerous waters.
Stacy quickly intervened. “I appreciate your coming, Sheriff. I assure you that everything is under control.”
“I’ll be dropping by again,” he promised, sending Josh a threatening look.
“Yes, do that, Sheriff,” Stacy responded politely. Even though she didn’t like the man’s abrasive manner, she certainly wasn’t going to buy into Josh’s hostility.
“What in heaven’s name was that all about?” she demanded after the sheriff left.
“I just can’t stomach the way Mosley blew Glenda’s death off,” Josh responded angrily. “He didn’t even pretend to investigate, and he promptly declared it a suicide. I’m convinced he told Malo Renquist to disappear until the thing blew over. I believe the two of them were hand-in-glove when Renquist owned the place. Mosley probably lined his pockets, looking the other way when illegal stuff was going on.”
“I can appreciate your feelings, Josh, but I rather resent playing the part of a Ping-Pong ball between the two of you.”
“I’m sorry,” Josh apologized. “You’re right. No need to draw you into the history between us. I guess I just wanted to warn him that you weren’t without some protection.”
“Is that why you lied about working for me?”
“Partly.” He hesitated, and then added, “I’m exactly the guy you need for the job. I’ve had experience, supervising a crew that built the cabins and the facilities in our campground. Repairing the bridge is going to take a few weeks so I have time on my hands.”
“But you loathe this place.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “And you have responsibilities of your own. What about your grandfather?”
He waved aside the question. “Do you want to offer me the job or not?”
Her heart leaped with sudden relief. “Of course, the job is yours if you want it, but why are you even thinking about taking it?”
As she searched his intense, somber eyes, sudden warmth curled within her. In a moment of wild fantasy, she imagined him confessing, I have to stay. I can’t leave you here alone.
Thoughtfully, he focused on some point beyond her. “When I was sparring with the sheriff, I realized what I was saying was true. Renquist left in a hurry, even before Glenda’s body was discovered early in the morning. No telling what the bastard might have left behind. If I could find out what was going on here when Glenda lost her life, I might learn where Renquist is hiding out. I’ve talked to the state authorities, and if I can provide them with any reasonable validation for them to open the case, they will.”
“I see,” Stacy said as evenly as she could. Looking at him, she saw a man driven by a vendetta. Thank heavens, he had no way of knowing the direction her thoughts had gone when he’d asked to stay. If he even had a hint that she’d put his intentions on a personal level, he’d regard her as one of those needy females who were ready to play upon a man’s sympathy. Since pride was about all she had left in this situation, she certainly wasn’t going to let him stomp all over it.
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