Read Online Another Man's Treasure (a romantic thriller) (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 1) by S.W. Hubbard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S.W. Hubbard
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reasons why Tyshaun doesn’t want to say who he was with on Saturday night. Maybe he was out with a girl whose other boyfriend is even tougher than this cop. Maybe he doesn’t want Coughlin hassling his friends. Jail has taught Tyshaun that safety hinges on keeping your mouth shut. He figures I’ll wake up and tell the cops who attacked me. I can’t do that, but I can do the next best thing.
“Tyshaun doesn’t need an alibi, Detective. I don’t remember much about the actual attack. But I do remember this: when I was already down on the floor of the elevator and the person was getting ready to kick me again, I saw the skin of his leg.” I look boldly into Coughlin’s eyes.
“ It was white.”
Chapter 10
“Here we are!” Jill sings out gaily as she throws open the door to my condo, sounding like one of the artificially cheery aides at my father’s nursing home. “Home again!”
Although I’m profoundly relieved to be out of the hospital, it’s hard to feel much joy at being back in this condo. I look around. Same beige carpeting, same unadorned off-white walls, same doggy scent.
I head for the living room, already exhausted by the walk from car. My nose twitches. As I walk into the room I hit a wall of sweet scent. A huge bouquet of flowers sits on the table: lilies, freesia, iris, stock. Not a cheap carnation or mum in sight.
“Wow! Who sent these?” I reach for the little white envelope nestled in the arrangement while Jill watches breathlessly as I read the handwritten note.
Audrey,
I’m so sorry about your terrible injury. Jill tells me you’re recovering. Is there any way I can help? Let me know when you’re well enough for visitors.
All best,
Cal
I feel myself flushing hotly. “You told Cal Tremaine I was in the hospital?” I didn’t intend my voice to sound so accusatory, but I’m humiliated by the thought of Jill calling people, scrounging up pity for me.
“I didn’t tell him. It was all over the news. And the police talked to him. He called the office to ask how you were doing. I just told him the truth.” Her eyes are wide and shiny, her lower lip slightly tremulous.
Luckily Ethel charges in and dispels the tension. When the fur stops flying I pull myself out of Ethel’s embrace and make a casual suggestion.
“How about driving me over to the office?” Although my car is parked outside in its usual spot, I’ve been forbidden to drive for another week, doctor’s orders.
Jill looks at me as if I’ve suggested an afternoon of kick-boxing. “No, Audrey, you can’t! The doctor said you have to take it easy. No stress, no lifting.”
“Jill, being away from the office is what I find stressful, not being in it,” I plead. “Please, take me over. I won’t lift anything heavier than a file folder.”
Thrown for a loop by this role reversal, Jill hesitates. I press my advantage. “I just want to check the accounts, look over the mail.”
“You can check your email from here. And I brought you all the snail mail.” She drops a plastic ShopRite bag bulging with envelopes beside me. “I’ve paid every bill that’s come in since you were hurt.”
Shit! Why is she suddenly so efficient? The truth is, I have a caterpillar need for the cocoon of my office. I want to wiggle through the familiar clutter. I want to sit at my desk and gaze at my ever-changing gallery of velvet Elvis paintings. I want to inhale the scent of Jill’s aroma therapy candles, and eat wasabi soy nuts from the bag in her drawer. I won’t be home until I’m there.
“C’mon, Jill—please? I won’t stay long, I promise.” I stand up and head for the door, as if going were a foregone conclusion. Unfortunately, I stagger when I reach for my coat. This is the most exercise I’ve had in a week.
“You see?” Jill accuses, snatching the jacket away. “You’re still unsteady on your feet. Sit back down and
“Tyshaun doesn’t need an alibi, Detective. I don’t remember much about the actual attack. But I do remember this: when I was already down on the floor of the elevator and the person was getting ready to kick me again, I saw the skin of his leg.” I look boldly into Coughlin’s eyes.
“ It was white.”
Chapter 10
“Here we are!” Jill sings out gaily as she throws open the door to my condo, sounding like one of the artificially cheery aides at my father’s nursing home. “Home again!”
Although I’m profoundly relieved to be out of the hospital, it’s hard to feel much joy at being back in this condo. I look around. Same beige carpeting, same unadorned off-white walls, same doggy scent.
I head for the living room, already exhausted by the walk from car. My nose twitches. As I walk into the room I hit a wall of sweet scent. A huge bouquet of flowers sits on the table: lilies, freesia, iris, stock. Not a cheap carnation or mum in sight.
“Wow! Who sent these?” I reach for the little white envelope nestled in the arrangement while Jill watches breathlessly as I read the handwritten note.
Audrey,
I’m so sorry about your terrible injury. Jill tells me you’re recovering. Is there any way I can help? Let me know when you’re well enough for visitors.
All best,
Cal
I feel myself flushing hotly. “You told Cal Tremaine I was in the hospital?” I didn’t intend my voice to sound so accusatory, but I’m humiliated by the thought of Jill calling people, scrounging up pity for me.
“I didn’t tell him. It was all over the news. And the police talked to him. He called the office to ask how you were doing. I just told him the truth.” Her eyes are wide and shiny, her lower lip slightly tremulous.
Luckily Ethel charges in and dispels the tension. When the fur stops flying I pull myself out of Ethel’s embrace and make a casual suggestion.
“How about driving me over to the office?” Although my car is parked outside in its usual spot, I’ve been forbidden to drive for another week, doctor’s orders.
Jill looks at me as if I’ve suggested an afternoon of kick-boxing. “No, Audrey, you can’t! The doctor said you have to take it easy. No stress, no lifting.”
“Jill, being away from the office is what I find stressful, not being in it,” I plead. “Please, take me over. I won’t lift anything heavier than a file folder.”
Thrown for a loop by this role reversal, Jill hesitates. I press my advantage. “I just want to check the accounts, look over the mail.”
“You can check your email from here. And I brought you all the snail mail.” She drops a plastic ShopRite bag bulging with envelopes beside me. “I’ve paid every bill that’s come in since you were hurt.”
Shit! Why is she suddenly so efficient? The truth is, I have a caterpillar need for the cocoon of my office. I want to wiggle through the familiar clutter. I want to sit at my desk and gaze at my ever-changing gallery of velvet Elvis paintings. I want to inhale the scent of Jill’s aroma therapy candles, and eat wasabi soy nuts from the bag in her drawer. I won’t be home until I’m there.
“C’mon, Jill—please? I won’t stay long, I promise.” I stand up and head for the door, as if going were a foregone conclusion. Unfortunately, I stagger when I reach for my coat. This is the most exercise I’ve had in a week.
“You see?” Jill accuses, snatching the jacket away. “You’re still unsteady on your feet. Sit back down and
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