Read Online The Jewelry Case by Catherine McGreevy - Free Book Online Page B

anyway. You can cross any time you want, as long as you don't mind confronting Miss Lizzie again." Although his face was deadpan, humor glinted in the dark-brown eyes. "You want to watch out for the pasture next door, though," he added, as a line appeared between his brows. "There's a bull over there. That one could be dangerous."
    "Then I'm glad I chose this field to trespass on. Thanks for rescuing me." She stuck out her hand. "My name's Paisley Perleman. I believe we're neighbors."
    His smile disappeared as if she had suddenly transformed into a monster with three heads and slobbering jowls. After a moment she lowered her hand. What had she said wrong?
    "You're a Perleman? I thought you were just one of the weekend tourists. Sometimes they stop by thinking our winery is open for visits."
    "I’m just related to the family by marriage," she told him. For some reason, her voice sounded apologetic. "Esther Perleman was my late husband's great-aunt."
    "That's the old lady who used to live in the house next door, right?"
    "Yes. And what is your name?"
    “Kevin Johnson.” Without elaborating, he turned and crossed the last few yards to his house without waiting for her. She hesitated, then hurried after him, puzzled at his change of mood from friendly to cool.
    Kevin’s house was another Queen Anne, bigger and in better condition than hers. The gray-painted boards of the wide, inviting porch were spotless, and the windows sparkled like freshly washed wine glasses. Either her neighbor Steve Lopez was a neat freak or he employed one heck of a cleaning woman. Two cars were parked side-by-side in the long driveway: a red pick-up truck and a gleaming low-slung black Audi R8 that looked like something Jonathan would have driven. The sleek sports car seemed out of place in the semi-rural setting, and she eyed it curiously.
    The teenager opened the front door for her, and she preceded him into what had once been a traditional parlor. It had been transformed into an ultra-modern man cave, with a slouchy distressed-leather sofa, a pool table squeezed into a corner, a small wet bar, and an enormous plasma television hanging over the fireplace.
    A pair of brightly colored abstract paintings covered two of the other walls, all slashing streaks of red and orange, while an odd-shaped, long-handled metal object leaned against a corner like an abstract sculpture. A farm tool of some type, she wondered, or an implement for some hobby?
    While she was trying to identify the strange contraption, the boy called, "Hey, Steve! We have a visitor."
    "Who is it?"
    Paisley's head swiveled toward a slim-hipped man strolling into the room dressed all in black: black button-up shirt, tight-fitting black slacks. She raised her eyebrows. Who did he think he was, Johnny Cash? He stopped when he saw her, and she had an impression of high cheekbones, a narrow nose, a down-curving mouth. A lot better looking than Johnny Cash, she decided, but unfortunately he didn't look like the kind of man who smiled much.
    "The lady fell down crossing the pasture." Kevin gestured at the thin line of blood running down Paisley’s calf.
    Trying to salvage her dignity, she stuck out a hand and smiled. "Hello, I'm Paisley Perleman, your new neighbor."
    A hand engulfed hers briefly, and she had the impression of banked strength behind it. "So you're Jonathan's widow,” her neighbor said, inspecting her as closely as his step-son had. “Get the Band-aids, Kevin."
    Kevin disappeared like a gopher darting down a hole, while Steve gestured her to sit on the couch. "Ray told me you might be coming out here to look at the house, but he didn't say you were going to stay."
    "I didn’t expect to. It was … an impulse."
    "Well, welcome to River Bend. I hope you're not going to sue me for getting hurt on my property."
    Paisley glanced at him sharply, unsure sure if he were joking. His face was impassive, making it difficult to tell. "It's just a scratch," she said. “And I was