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  Owen exhaled heavily. “Damn.” He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. He crushed her fingers gently in his own.

  Silence descended once more. Amy and Owen watched the ducks on the pond for a long while.

  • • •

  “Nothing. Nada. Zilch.” Owen glanced at the notes he had made during his last phone call. He flipped the small notebook shut and tossed it onto the bedside table. He looked at Amy, who was lounging, arms folded beneath her breasts, in the connecting doorway. “Arthur Crabshaw is as clean as you can expect a fifty-five-year-old businessman to be.”

  “No scandals while down in Arizona?”

  “No. At least not that my sources could determine in such a limited period of time. I suppose it’s possible that Crabshaw left a few bodies buried under one of his strip malls, but I don’t think it’s very likely.”

  Amy tapped her toe, thinking. “The blackmail arrangement we witnessed this morning seemed fairly amateurish, didn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Owen walked to the window and looked out at the park. “A toilet tank lid in a library restroom. Definitely the work of an amateur. And a local amateur, at that.”

  “Local?”

  “Crabshaw was told to leave the money in the public library. The implication is that he’s being blackmailed by someone here in Villantry.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. But he’s been gone for thirty years.”

  “And that means that his deep, dark secret, whatever it is, probably dates back thirty years,” Owen said softly.

  “To the time when he worked for Raymond C. Villantry?”

  “Yes.” Owen turned away from the window. “I think it’s time I paid a call on Arthur Crabshaw.”

  “I’ll get my purse.”

  “You will stay right here in this room,” Owen said.

  “I’m paying your tab, remember? That means I can make executive decisions.”

  “When I’m on a case, I give the orders.”

  “You need me to help analyze his reactions,” Amy said persuasively. “I’m very good at that kind of thing. It’s my real estate sales experience, you see. I’m what you might call an amateur practicing psychologist.”

  “Forget it, Amy. I’m handling this alone.”

  • • •

  Arthur Crabshaw looked momentarily nonplussed to see Amy and Owen on his doorstep. Amy was sure she saw evidence of tension around his eyes. But he recovered with alacrity. He smiled genially and ushered them into his front room.

  “Well, well, well.” He closed the door. “This is a surprise. What can I do for you two?”

  “How was the golf game this morning?” Owen asked softly.

  Arthur’s smile slipped for only an instant. He quickly got it back in place. “Fine. Just fine. Shot a three over par. Although I have to admit that on the Villantry Golf Course that’s not saying a great deal.”

  “Must have been a fast round,” Owen said.

  Arthur’s gaze turned wary. “Why do you say that?”

  Amy held her breath as Owen removed the incriminating envelope from his pocket.

  “Because you finished in time to visit the library, didn’t you?” Owen said.

  Arthur stared at the envelope. Then he raised his eyes to meet Owen’s unrelenting gaze. His expression crumbled into weary despair. “How did you find out?”

  “Amy and I were in the library at the time. We saw you go into the restroom. I went in after you and found this.” Owen glanced at the envelope. “I thought maybe you’d like to talk about it.”

  “There’s not much to say now, is there?” Arthur sank down heavily into an armchair. “If you’ve got the money, that means the blackmailer didn’t get his payoff. He’ll reveal the truth, just as he threatened to do in his first note.”

  Owen went to stand in front of Arthur. “What happens if he does reveal the truth, Crabshaw?”

  “Madeline Villantry will be humiliated in front of her family and the entire town.” Arthur sighed. “And I seriously doubt that Bernice will marry me when she discovers that Madeline and I once had an affair. Bernice is such a sensitive woman. Bad enough that Madeline used to steal her boyfriends back in high school. How will she feel if she finds out that I was once Madeline’s lover?”

  Chapter 6

  “I think you’d better start from the beginning,” Owen said.

  “I worked for Madeline’s husband, Raymond C. Villantry.” Arthur massaged his temples. “Just like almost everyone else did at the time. I was young. Couldn’t afford college. But I was determined to make something of myself.”

  “At Villantry?” Amy asked.

  “No, I had my sights set a lot higher. But Villantry was a start, and a good one. I knew who Madeline was, of course. Everyone in Villantry did. Her family was as rich as the Villantrys. I didn’t move in Madeline’s circles in those days, though.” Arthur grimaced. “Only the Villantrys did.”

  “Go on,” Owen said.

  “Madeline married Raymond Villantry right out of college. Everyone said it was a perfect match. I honestly believe that she was wildly in love with him in the beginning. But Villantry just took her for granted. He was accustomed to getting whatever he wanted. Then, after he got it, he lost interest. The only exception was the company. He was passionate about it.”

  “What happened?” Amy asked gently.

  “I was doing well at Villantry.” Arthur leaned his head back against the chair. “Had a flair for business. Madeline and I were thrown together on a number of occasions because she was on the planning commission for the original library building. Civic duty and all that.”

  “Why did that bring the two of you together?” Amy asked.

  “Villantry’s firm had expanded beyond fishing by then. It was into construction. It was going to build the library. I was assigned to act as a liaison between the planning commission and the company. Raymond Villantry had better things to do with his time than fuss with the library that was to be named in his honor.”

  “Such as?” Owen asked. He was aware that Amy’s gaze was softening rapidly. He was not surprised. He recalled their conversation regarding his move to Misplaced Island. He’d suspected all along that she had a soft heart.

  Arthur’s mouth twisted. “Such as making a number of trips to Seattle. Villantry was having an affair in the city. A lot of people were aware of it, but of course no one actually said anything to Madeline. No one thought she knew. I came across her one day after a committee meeting. She was sitting all alone in a conference room, crying her heart out.”

  Amy looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “And you comforted her?”

  Arthur nodded. “One thing led to another. She wasn’t in love with me, nor I with her. But she needed someone, and she was a lovely woman. And so very brave.” He moved his hands in a vague gesture. “What can I say? We had an affair.”

  “What ended it?” Owen demanded. “Did her husband discover what was going on?”

  “Oh, no.” Arthur frowned. “No one ever discovered us. At least, I thought no one knew. We were very, very careful. Madeline had her reputation and her family to consider. She was so terrified of being caught that she ended the affair after a couple of months.”

  Amy frowned. “Why?”

  “She said she had to consider the future of her two young children. She didn’t want to jeopardize their inheritance by risking a divorce. And she had her parents to think of, too. She was their only child. She was afraid that they would be humiliated if we were found out.”

  “Hmm,” Amy said.

  Owen glanced at her. He was starting to recognize that tone in her voice. “Yes? Did you have something you wanted to share with the rest of the class?”

  Amy shrugged. “Not really. It just occurred to me that Madeline made a very financially astute decision.”

  “It was a very brave decision,” Arthur corrected gallantly. “For which she paid a great price. She endured an unhappy marriage for years in order to salvage her childre
n’s inheritance and to protect her family from humiliation.”

  “There is that,” Amy agreed.

  It occurred to Owen that Amy had already deduced the truth about Madeline Villantry’s marriage from the photo she had seen in the old edition of the Villantry Gazette. He turned to Crabshaw. “How many blackmail payments have you made?”

  “Two. Or rather, one. I got the first note a few weeks ago, right after Bernice and I announced our engagement.” Arthur nodded glumly at the envelope Owen had placed on the table. “The thousand in there was supposed to be the second payment.”

  “So the blackmail is recent?” Owen asked sharply. “You weren’t bothered by any demands until a few weeks ago?”

  “No.” Arthur dropped his head into his hands. “I thought there would only be the one payment. Then, two days ago, there was a second demand.”

  “There always is,” Owen said.

  “But it hasn’t been made, because you took the envelope,” Arthur whispered hoarsely. “Now it will all come out into the open. Madeline’s reputation will be ruined. Bernice will be crushed. And all because of me.”

  “No.” Amy stepped forward quickly and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Arthur. Owen will take care of everything. He’ll find out who the blackmailer is and stop him before anything else happens.”

  Owen stared at her. “I will?”

  She gave him a bracing smile. “Of course you will.”

  Owen narrowed his eyes. She had apparently forgotten that she had hired him to discover Arthur Crabshaw’s secrets. He had done precisely that. Nothing had been said about saving Crabshaw’s rear. “Uh, Amy, maybe we’d better discuss this out on the porch.”

  “Later, Owen. Right now we need to figure out how to keep the blackmailer silent.”

  “The quickest way to pull the blackmailer’s teeth is to call his bluff,” Owen said.

  “I can’t risk it,” Arthur whispered.

  “Of course not,” Amy murmured. “Owen will handle this.”

  Arthur sighed heavily. “What can Sweet do? It’s too late to replace the money. I left that envelope in the restroom shortly after ten this morning. It’s nearly five. By now the blackmailer will have checked the toilet tank lid and realized that I didn’t follow his instructions. He’ll be furious.”

  “Don’t fret about it, Crabshaw,” Owen said. “There will definitely be a second chance. And a third and fourth chance, as well. If we allow this thing to go on that long.”

  “Which we won’t,” Amy said confidently.

  Owen raised his brows but offered no comment. He didn’t need a weather report to tell him that Amy had recently undergone a sea change.

  Arthur lifted his head and gave Owen a quizzical look. “What do you mean there will be a second chance? The blackmailer said in his note that he would reveal everything if I didn’t make the payments.”

  Owen smiled grimly. “You’re a businessman, Crabshaw. Look at this from the blackmailer’s point of view. If he reveals the truth, it’s all over for him. He can’t expect his victim to make any more payments once the secrets are out in the open.”

  The anguish and frustration faded in Arthur’s eyes. Intelligent perception replaced it. “Good point. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “The only way the blackmailer can make money is to keep quiet and apply more pressure on you,” Owen said.

  Amy searched his face. “That makes sense. He’s got nothing to gain by revealing the truth, and everything to lose. I’d say he definitely has a strong incentive to try to persuade Arthur to continue with the payments. And when he does, we’ll be ready for him, won’t we.”

  “It’s beginning to look that way.”

  Arthur stared at Owen with dawning hope. “You’re going to help me?”

  Owen looked at Amy, who gave him a glowing smile. He was briefly dazzled by it. He wondered if it was her sign-here-and-you’ve-got-yourself-a-house smile. He’d never actually seen that smile because when he’d bought the Draycott place from her, he’d almost had to type up the papers himself. She had tried to talk him out of the deal right up until the ink was dry. He had to admit the smile was very effective.

  “Something tells me I don’t have a lot of choice,” Owen said.

  • • •

  Owen waited until he heard the shower stop in Amy’s room. He killed a few more minutes pacing his room and then strode to the connecting door. He knocked peremptorily.

  “Come in, I’m decent,” Amy called.

  That was unfortunate, Owen thought wistfully. He yanked open the door. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Yes?” Amy met his gaze in the mirror. She was dressed in a pair of blue silk trousers and a matching silk tunic that turned her eyes into jewels.

  For a few seconds Owen just stood there, transfixed by the sight of her putting a gold earring on one delicate ear. Desire swept through him, hot, unexpected, and laced with longing. Damn. This was getting bad, he thought. Very, very bad.

  “Is something wrong?” Amy prompted.

  Owen took refuge in righteous irritation. He braced one hand against the doorframe. “Mind telling me what happened in Crabshaw’s living room this afternoon?”

  “What do you mean?” She finished attaching the earring and turned to face him. “We’re going to help Arthur. What’s so complicated about that?”

  “Amy, you told me you wanted to prove he was concealing something. Okay, I proved it. Case closed.”

  Her eyes widened. “For heaven’s sake, Owen, we can’t stop there. Bernice loves him, and this afternoon I finally concluded that he loves her. We have to help him.”

  “I had a feeling you were going to say that. What the hell made you decide that Arthur is a good guy after all?”

  “Intuition. And the fact that he’s trying to play the gentleman for Madeline’s and Bernice’s sake.”

  “The gentleman?”

  “A man who cares about a lady’s reputation and who doesn’t want to see anyone hurt, even thirty years after the affair, must have a strong sense of honor. A man like that will do right by my aunt.”

  “Sometimes I forget that you write romance novels in addition to selling real estate,” Owen muttered.

  She smiled. “Ready to go down to dinner?”

  • • •

  Two hours later Owen stood with Amy on the veranda that ran the length of the Villantry Inn and contemplated night-shrouded Villantry Park. The summer evening was cool but not cold. The tang of the sea was in the air. Bernice and Arthur had left the Inn after dinner. Owen finally had Amy to himself.

  Amy and her case, he amended silently.

  “Want to take a walk?” he asked.

  Amy nodded. “Sounds lovely.”

  He took her arm, and together they went down the steps and strolled into the park. The globes of the tall, old-fashioned lamps that lit the paths cast a warm glow. The Friday night band concert had just concluded its performance. People streamed out of the park.

  By the time Owen had gotten Amy as far as the pond, the crowd had dwindled to a handful. Owen studied the library through the trees and rhododendron bushes. It was closed for the day, but the lights were on inside.

  Everything about this case seemed to center on the library.

  “Looks like someone’s working late tonight,” he said, indicating the building on the far side of the park.

  “Maybe some of the people in charge of the dedication ceremonies are holding a last-minute meeting.”

  “Let’s see what’s going on.” Drawn by the force of his curiosity, Owen steered Amy along the path that meandered toward the library.

  Amy glanced at him speculatively. “Are we going to look for clues?”

  “Have I ever told you that you have an overactive imagination?”

  “I believe you’ve mentioned it once or twice. So, what are we going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. I just want to have a look around. It occurs to me that even though the public library restroom is n
ot a bad choice on the part of the blackmailer, it is a little unusual. Whoever he is, he must feel quite comfortable there.”

  “A librarian?”

  “Maybe.”

  The path that led to the library was deserted. The trees and shrubs that grew in this portion of the grounds were among the oldest in Villantry Park. They blocked the light from the tall lamps and deepened the already thick shadows on the graveled walk.

  Owen and Amy had almost reached the library when the front door opened. Voices floated out into the night. Several people appeared in the entrance. Owen brought Amy to a halt in the shadows.

  “You were right,” he said softly. “Looks like a committee meeting breaking up.”

  They watched the small group cluster for a few minutes on the broad steps in front of the building, exchanging pleasantries. Madeline Villantry appeared in the doorway. Raymond Junior was with her. Raymond appeared terminally bored, as usual.

  “Is everything taken care of inside, Betty?” Madeline asked.

  “Yes, I think so, Madeline.” A silver-haired matron paused on the steps. “Eugene will turn off the lights and lock up.”

  “I’ll see you all tomorrow evening at the ceremony, then,” Madeline said. “Good night, everyone. And thank you once again for your time and effort.”

  The committee members moved off in various directions. Most headed toward the small parking lot on the far side of the park.

  Madeline and Raymond started along the path that would take them past Owen and Amy.

  Owen automatically started to pull Amy into the bushes, then realized belatedly that the rhododendrons were impenetrable and opted for another means of concealment.

  He drew Amy into a passionate embrace in the shadows.

  “What are you doing?” Amy hissed, startled.

  “Don’t want ’em to see us,” Owen muttered. “Kiss me. Make it look good.”

  She hesitated only briefly, more out of surprise than anything else, Owen realized. And then she was kissing him back. Her arms locked around his neck. Her mouth opened for him.

  Owen’s priorities shifted in a heartbeat. The problem of Madeline and Raymond suddenly dwindled dramatically in importance. All that mattered was the taste and feel of Amy.