Island Storms by Sherryl Woods

Author:Sherryl Woods
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Published: 2019-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Brian was watching a crash-bang rerun of The Dukes of Hazzard when Molly went to tell him that Detective O’Hara—Michael—was moving in temporarily.

“Okay,” he said, barely sparing her a glance. The news clearly didn’t faze him. It irritated her no end that Liza, who claimed to have absolutely no maternal instincts, seemed to know her son better than she did. She’d also been hoping that somehow his reaction would provide her with an excuse to keep the detective off her sofa.

“What’s for dinner?” Brian asked instead.

Molly sighed, resignation washing over her along with an undeniable spark of anticipation. It was a spark she intended to ignore if she had to spend the entire night under an icy shower. “I don’t know. He’s taking us out.”

“Okay.” On the screen two cars playing bumper tag on some country road crashed into a fiery mess. “Yeah!” Brian said. “Did you see that, Mom?”

Molly cringed. “I saw it. Don’t you have homework?”

“Just spelling stuff. I know the words.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure. Spelling’s my best subject. You know that.” During all of this his eyes never once left the television screen. He was saved from a motherly lecture about driving safely by a timely knock on the door. Since it was too soon for Michael to be back, she checked carefully before answering it. A week ago she wouldn’t have bothered, trusting the guards to keep her safe from unwanted visitors.

Claire Bates stood on the threshold, still pale from her bout with the flu but looking every bit as glamorous as Liza had noted in their earlier conversation. Her chin-length hair had been streaked a soft ash blond. She was wearing linen slacks in a pale celadon green with a matching silk blouse and flat shoes just one shade darker. Chunky silver jewelry completed the fashionable ensemble. Her gray eyes were faintly troubled.

“I probably should have called first,” she began apologetically.

“No, of course not. Come in. I’ve just made some Cuban coffee, or I could fix you a cup of tea.”

“Nothing, thanks. My stomach’s still pitching and rolling like a boat on the high seas. I had to come and see you to apologize for getting you mixed up in this awful business with Allan.” She perched on the edge of a chair, her hands folded in her lap, her legs crossed demurely at the ankles. Only a former debutante who’d excelled at hiding her own nervousness would have picked up on the fact that her hands were anything but relaxed.

“Claire, please,” Molly protested. “It’s certainly not your fault. You could hardly know that Allan would be killed after that card game. You could help me figure out what might have gone on, though. There’s a lot I just don’t understand.”

Alarm seemed to flare in the depths of those silvery eyes. “How could I do that? I wasn’t there.”

“But you know everyone who was there much better than I do. You could tell me how everyone usually interacts. Maybe then I could tell if anything was particularly off that night.

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