Chapter Three #2
Head throbbing, she rubbed her temple and took a deep breath. With shaky hands, she stuffed the document back in the envelope and reached for her phone. The number was more familiar than she’d like it to be. Barbara Delaney had not only handled her grandmother’s estate, but also Cilla’s divorce.
“Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Morris and Delaney. This is Jan speaking, how may I help you?”
“Hi Jan, this is Cilla Wainwright.” She’d been there so often she was on a first-name basis with the secretary, same as she was with her lawyer.
“Hey, Cilla. Did you forget something when you were in earlier?”
She’d been coming from her lawyer’s office when she’d literally run into Alex. “No, but I need to speak with Barbara when she has the time.”
“Let me check her schedule.” The clicking from a computer keyboard came from the other end.
“Ms. Delaney is out of the office for the rest of the day. I can leave a message for her to call you when she gets a chance or I can make an appointment. She’s booked solid for the remainder of this week.
First open spot is Tuesday morning at eleven. ”
Too long. “I’ll take the appointment, but please ask her to call me if she gets a chance before then. It’s important.”
“Will do. And if there’s a cancellation, I’ll fit you in earlier.”
“Thanks, Jan.” She shoved her phone back in her pocket. There was nothing to be done until she heard from her lawyer. She needed to think. The best place to do that was the garden. She shoved the letter in her desk drawer and slammed it shut with more force than necessary.
“Who was at the door?” Rosa asked when Cilla hurried back through the kitchen.
“It was nothing.” She ignored the concerned expression on her friend’s face and kept going, not wanting to answer any further questions. “I’ll be in the garden if you need me.”
…
Alex strolled down the sidewalk, getting the lay of the land.
Redemption was a far cry from the crowds he was accustomed to, but it was busier than he’d expected.
People in cars slowed to look at him. Those who passed him on the sidewalk made no secret of their curiosity.
His size always made him a person of interest. Being a stranger in a small town only added to it.
He wished he’d thought to bring his sunglasses, but they were back in his room in his jacket.
Hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, he surveyed the shops in the distance.
Henderson’s General Store might be his best bet.
But first, he’d check on his bike rather than wait for the garage to call him.
The address listed on the card he’d been given was Main Street.
Since they hadn’t passed a garage on the way into Redemption, he assumed it was somewhere on the other end.
Maybe the mechanic was his target. Maybe that’s why his father had arranged for Alex to wreck his bike.
He picked up his pace and had walked almost to the edge of town before he hit Grady’s Garage. The bay doors were partially open, so he ducked into the shadowy interior. A car was up on a lift with a tall, lanky man working on it.
“You Grady?”
The man turned when Alex spoke. “Who wants to know?”
“Alexiares Blackwell.” He offered his hand. There was no tingle, nothing to indicate Grady was his intended soul. “My bike was brought in earlier.”
Grady gave a low whistle and pulled a rag out of his back pocket to clean away the worst of the grime. “Hell of a thing.” He indicated the other side of the bay where Alex’s bike sat. “It’s not as bad as I first feared.”
“Really?” That hadn’t been his recollection.
“Yeah. Thought it was worse, but on second look, I can fix it. Oddly enough, I have the part I need.” He removed his ballcap, absently scratched his short gray hair, and jammed it back on. “Don’t rightly remember where I got it, but I’ve had it awhile.”
Alex would bet every vehicle he owned—which was a substantial number—that the damage to the motorcycle had been extensive and the part hadn’t been in the garage inventory yesterday. This smacked of his father’s interference. At least he wasn’t going to be grounded indefinitely.
“How long will it take to get it up and running?” The faster the better. He might be stuck in Redemption, but at least he’d have wheels.
“Tomorrow. Day after at the latest. Heard you were staying at Ivy House and that you lost your phone in the crash. I’ll get word to you there as soon as it’s done.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Hell of a thing,” he repeated. With a shake of his head, Grady went back to the job he was working on.
Alex left him to his business and made the trek back to the heart of Main Street. The entire time, he stayed alert for any sign that would shed some light on the soul he was supposed to reap, but he got a whole lot of nothing.
He was heading toward Henderson’s General Store when a building on a side street caught his attention. Second Time Around. Considering his budget, and the fact he had to pay for repairs to his bike, it wouldn’t hurt to check out a thrift store.
The selection was better than he’d hoped, and in less than fifteen minutes, he was the owner of three T-shirts and two pairs of jeans, all for just under fifty bucks.
His next stop was the general store for new underwear and socks.
With nearly a hundred dollars of his thousand gone, and his quota for human interaction at its limit, he skipped the diner and grabbed burgers and fries from the local takeout. He’d get a drink back at Cilla’s.
Sweat trickled down his neck, and his shirt was stuck to him by the time he reached Ivy House. Heat and cold had never been a problem before today. It was yet another sign of his father’s interference.
Frustrated that the entire afternoon had vanished with him being none the wiser about the details of his assignment, Alex stashed his purchases and took the bag with his meal down to the kitchen. Rosa smiled as he entered.
Again there was no tingle, nothing to indicate hers was the soul he had to reap.
“How are you feeling? Cilla told me about the accident.” She wiped her hands on a towel and hung it to dry.
“I’m fine.” He’d be better once he had a handle on the situation. He wasn’t used to not being in control. Frankly, it sucked. “Is it okay if I get something to drink?”
In sneakers, she stood almost six feet, her hair a mass of pencil-thin braids pulled back in a thick tail that hung down her back. Even dressed in jeans and a summer blouse, she carried herself with a regal bearing. She pointed at the refrigerator. “Help yourself.”
He got himself a bottle of water and took a long pull. Damn, he was thirsty. Rosa was lingering, even though the clock read five, which he assumed was her quitting time. Never one to beat around the bush, he said, “Something you want to say to me?”
She squared her shoulders. “I understand you’re staying here for free.”
So that was it. “Not my idea.”
“Cilla tends to see the best in people. Don’t take advantage.”
This was his second warning. First the cop.
Now his sister. “I don’t plan on it.” He kept his tone level and easy, no small thing under the circumstances.
“Speaking of which, where is she?” He had to believe Cilla’s car had struck him for a reason.
It made no sense for his father to drop him here without some starting point, some clue. Right now, she was all he had.
Rosa canted her head toward the backyard. “Digging in the flower beds.” She paused. “Maybe you can make yourself useful while you’re here. Tell Cilla I’ve left for the day. I’ll lock the front door on my way out. The guests will ring the bell if they’ve forgotten their keys.”
He’d planned to eat at the kitchen island but changed course and headed for the yard. The back porch wasn’t nearly as large or grand as the one in the front but boasted a small table with a couple of chairs. He could eat there and talk to Cilla.