Thieves Like Us Part 24

"It's not?"

"No." Any remaining shred of amus.e.m.e.nt faded at Elizabeth's confused look. The poor woman was so distracted by her own emotions she really didn't see what was going on. "Libby's matchmaking, Elizabeth. She's getting you and Ben back together."

Mild irritation mixed with her puzzlement. "What do you mean? We've been together for years. Libby knows that."

"Not really." She reached out to squeeze Elizabeth's hand, reminding her of the affection behind the words she was about to say. "You and Ben have been fighting for the past few days, and Libby's scared."

She didn't deny the fighting part. "Scared?"

"She's probably afraid she'll lose one or both of you if you don't resolve this issue about selling the house."

"That's nonsense," Elizabeth recovered, dismissing the thought with a shake of her head. "It's a temporary disagreement, and we'll work it out. Libby's a smart girl; I would expect her to know that couples don't always agree."

This was the hard part. "She does. She's just not used to being the cause of it."

"She-" surprise made her falter for a moment. "She's not the cause. Why would you think that? Why would she think that?"

"Because she heard you say it." Hesitation tugged at Janet's heart; she couldn't imagine how much it was going to hurt Elizabeth to hear this. "She overheard part of an argument," she began, editing out the part about Libby eavesdropping on the whole thing. "Apparently you told Ben that selling the house would hurt Libby, that her friends' parents might think less of her if she didn't come from this wealthy family with its incredibly expensive mansion."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped, and she raised a hand to cover it. "I . . . I didn't mean it like that. Oh, G.o.d, she heard that?"

Janet nodded. "Now she's afraid you think the Payton-Westfield money is buying her friends." Before Elizabeth could respond, Janet hurried to add, "I told her that's not true, that her friends would like her no matter where she lived." She wished she could say Libby believed her, but she wasn't sure. Teenage girls could be incredibly insecure, and she promised herself to reinforce that lesson later. Right now she had to worry about correcting Elizabeth's impressions. "But she thinks you believe it, and that it's keeping you from selling the house. And because Ben refuses to live here, Libby thinks she's keeping the two of you apart."

"That's not true!"

"It's not true that Ben doesn't want to live here?"

She sighed. "No, that's true. He said the house was Banner's idea, not mine, which is accurate. And that it's inappropriate for the chief of police to live in a huge mansion on the salary of a public servant."

Janet could see his point but kept quiet.

Elizabeth stood suddenly, too agitated to sit still. Pacing the Oriental rug, she wrung her hands. "It's true I don't want to sell the house, but it's not because of Libby. I just told Ben that because I thought it would convince him. It's because-" her voice caught, the words coming out hoa.r.s.e and whispery. "It's me. I'm the one who's afraid of what people will think."

Janet breathed a sigh of relief that she didn't have to point that one out. "I know."

That earned her a sharp look. "I'm not a sn.o.b." Elizabeth rolled her eyes and corrected herself. "Okay, yes, I am. I admit I've been a spoiled princess my entire life, and I like it. I prefer to live in luxury." She stood straighter, eyes hard and unflinching. "But I don't judge others by where they live or what they do for a living, or where their kids go to school."

Janet smiled, as much to rea.s.sure Elizabeth as at the absurdity of the statement. "I know that, too."

"And I wouldn't want anyone to do that to Libby."

"Do they? Do they treat her differently?"

"I don't know," she hedged, then tightened her lips, forcing the truth out. "No, not that I know of. She's had no problems at school or at the club. But how do I know it's not because they're afraid of offending me?"

"I guess you don't." Janet avoided eye contact, absorbed in examining her cuticles. Making the next question sound as nonthreatening as possible. "Do you care if Libby has friends like that, people who are nice to her just because her grandmother is superrich and owns the biggest house in town?"

The silence finally got to her, and she looked up to meet Elizabeth's steely gaze, wondering if she'd just crossed the line.

Janet wasn't sure until something flickered in the gray-blue depths of Elizabeth's eyes as she drew a deep breath. "Yes." Stiffness seeped out of her body like air escaping a blow-up pool toy. "Yes," she repeated, nodding her head for emphasis. "I care deeply. I don't want her to have superficial friends. I tried to pretend this thing about selling the house was because of Libby, about protecting her way of life, but I'm the one who's insecure about how others will perceive me."

Elizabeth was talking to herself as much as to Janet, so Janet kept her mouth shut. Some things had to be said out loud, and this seemed to be one of them.

"I made mistakes before, but they were my own business. I didn't love Leonard Westfield but I stayed with him anyway. That was my bad decision. But then Banner-" Janet didn't expect her to list Banner's sins, since they were too numerous to name. "You know what happened as well as I do, Janet, as much as I wish you didn't. Smuggling drugs, laundering money, and having his own brother sent to jail for a crime he didn't commit. And-my G.o.d, I still can't believe it-he and Leonard are somehow responsible for murdering Joe Benton. The police may never prove it, but I know they did it, and so does everyone else in this town. My husband was a murderer. And my son . . . my own son is one of the worst criminals this town has ever seen. It's-" her voice dropped to a whisper "-it's shameful."

"He's sick, Elizabeth. It's not your fault." It didn't excuse anything he'd done, but she couldn't bear to see her exmother-in-law suffering for what her son had done.

"Yes, he is. But it hasn't stopped me from being embarra.s.sed. And that's the problem. I'd given up everything to marry Leonard Westfield, to give my children a name and a family with prestige-I gave up Ben. I was a fool, and I paid a steep price. I thought I was past that, but now I've been even more foolish. I-" As if she no longer had the energy to hold herself up, she dropped into a brocade wing chair, staring at nothing for several seconds before turning her desperate gaze on Janet. "I can't believe it. I've taught my own granddaughter that people's perceptions are more important than who she is. That having money and keeping up appearances matters more than anything else." She let her head fall into her hands. "I'm such a hypocrite. What have I done to Libby?"

"Nothing!" Janet hurried over to kneel in front of her, clasping Elizabeth's clenched hands in her own. "Libby is the nicest, most well-adjusted kid I've ever known. Her friends like her for who she is, not for where she lives." At least, she prayed they did. "You just need to let her know that you aren't staying here because of her."

"No," Elizabeth admitted. "I'm staying because of me. Because I'm shallow and afraid to face the world without the protection of my fancy house and all the trappings of wealth. What a great example for my granddaughter."

"That's a bit harsh."

"No. It's embarra.s.sing, but it's true."

She should have known Elizabeth would be as unflinchingly honest with herself as she was with others. And as cathartic as their conversation might have been for her, only one thing mattered. "As long as Libby knows that whatever differences you and Ben have, it's not because of her, or because of what you want for her."

She nodded, deep in thought. "You're absolutely right. I have to fix this as soon as possible."

It was typical Elizabeth: Identify the problem, take control, and fix it. Janet smiled to herself. "I think Libby understands, but she'll be glad to hear it from you."

Elizabeth stood, her gaze focused and clear, and smoothed her skirt. "Thank you, Janet. Will you excuse me? I don't think I should wait any longer."

"Sure thing."

She refrained from adding, And for G.o.d's sake, work it out with Ben while you're at it. She hoped it was possible, but no one knew better than she did that some issues couldn't be worked out, no matter how you felt about the other person. No matter how much you cared or how wrong your world felt without him. Sometimes it was out of your hands.

Unless you refused to concede.

Janet was more determined now than ever to resolve the issues that were keeping Rocky from her. There had to be a logical way to figure out what Banner had done with the stones.

The diamonds had been close by when he'd been arrested at the house-he told her he'd planned to take them-but they weren't here now. They must have been moved after that. Yet she couldn't think of anyone he'd trust to keep them safe. h.e.l.l, no one would even talk to him these days except his lawyers, and they were paid well for that dubious honor.

She grew still as her mind suddenly raced. How were his lawyers paid?

Banner had hired the most expensive criminal lawyers in the state, and she'd seen his financial statements during the divorce. She was sure there were no attorney fees noted. Seabrook wouldn't do this pro bono. With all Banner's money tied up in lawsuits and pending charges, he had to have come up with a retainer somehow.

Her jaw dropped as the realization hit. He must've paid with the diamonds.

She ran through the house, checking rooms, until she finally found Elizabeth in the solarium.

"Janet! What's the problem?"

She held onto the back of a chair, catching her breath. "This is awkward, Elizabeth, but I need to ask you a personal question."

Her exmother-in-law shook her head with a look of infinite patience. "You're family, Janet. I wish you would stop making me remind you."

She smiled. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . it's really not my business anymore, but trust me, it could be important." When Elizabeth simply waited, she asked, "Are you paying for Banner's legal defense?"

The kindness left her eyes. "Not a cent," she said, her voice tempered steel.

Janet nodded. "I didn't think so. So how is he paying for it?"

"I have no idea. Nor do I care."

Rising excitement kept her heartbeat from slowing its mad gallop. "You had to deliver some papers to his attorney's office soon after his arrest, though, right? Did that include a key to a safe deposit box by any chance?"

Elizabeth's brow quirked the tiniest bit with curiosity. "No. Just papers and a couple personal items." Seeing Janet's disappointment, she added helpfully, "He asked for some financial papers, the cash he had in his bedroom, and a list of phone numbers."

She couldn't hide her disappointment. "That's all?"

"I'm afraid so. Oh, and some stupid commemorative golf ball. He said he forgot to give it to . . ." Her vice trailed off as she noticed Janet's excitement. "What?"

"A gold-plated ball from the Wesfield-Benton Cla.s.sic?"

"Yes. Why?"

"That's it!" She laughed. "That's where the diamonds went!"

Elizabeth looked stunned. "The diamonds those Colombian thugs are looking for? They were in the golf ball?"

"Yes! We have to call Ben."

A faint smile pulled at the corners of Elizabeth's mouth. Laying a hand on Janet's arm, she steered her toward the doorway. "As it happens, I already did. He said he'll be here in about an hour. I think this will be quite an eventful visit for him."

Chapter.

Fourteen.

"Can't talk now, I'm driving," Ben said. In the background Rocky heard the Tigers' baseball game on the car radio, the same one he'd been listening to. He figured can't talk meant I don't want to talk while the game is in extra innings.

"Okay, I'll call you back later."

"No, I'm on my way to Liz's house. Why don't you meet me there? We can talk before dinner."

He must have a.s.sumed Rocky would be showing up there anyway, or at least be welcome. Neither was true. He didn't want to say it, then have to explain to Ben why the woman who was practically like a daughter to him wouldn't want to see Rocky's sorry a.s.s anymore. At least, not without kicking it.

He hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse not to meet him at the Westfield mansion, but Ben's impatient voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Just-d.a.m.n it! f.u.c.kin' bullpen's gonna give away this game. Talk to you later." The line went dead.

He had no choice but to drive to Elizabeth's place if he wanted to talk to Ben. But he was probably closer than Ben was. Maybe he could intercept him in the driveway.

Naturally, traffic on Woodward was a nightmare. He turned onto Elizabeth's street fifteen minutes later, certain he'd have to ring the doorbell and suffer poisonous looks from all three females, who undoubtedly would stand together in their resentment. But Ben's car was right in front of him, pulled onto the gra.s.sy verge at the side of the street just before the driveway. Ben sat stiffly behind the wheel.

Rocky's first thought was that he'd pulled over to hear the end of the ballgame before driving up to the house. But Baltimore had scored the winning run just as Rocky turned onto the shady side street, and instead of smas.h.i.+ng a fist into the dash and switching off the radio, Ben didn't move. Not so much as a twitch.

Something was wrong. Rocky threw the car into park and jumped out. He ran toward Ben, his mind racing ahead of him, envisioning the gray face and clutching hands of a heart attack victim. Or even more frightening, the round, b.l.o.o.d.y hole of a bullet neatly centered on Ben's chest. It was a crazy thought, yet he couldn't help scanning the street for any sign of the Colombians. As if they'd shoot someone and stick around.

Every sense went on full alert, heightened by the fear of what he might find. They hit him in a confusing collage, the scent of fresh-cut gra.s.s, the sound of a basketball bouncing on a driveway behind him, the hot feel of metal as he smacked his hand onto the sun-warmed roof of the car. He braced to jerk open the driver's door when the hum of the window lowering stopped him. Rocky straightened, puzzled, as Ben turned toward him, face flushed with health and chest devoid of bullet holes.

Ben's blank gaze gave nothing away. "Did you know about this?" he asked.

He followed Ben's pointed finger, turning his gaze toward Elizabeth's front yard beyond the open gates. Less than a hundred square feet of gra.s.s lay between the gates and the dense screen of lilac bushes, rhododendron, and pine trees that s.h.i.+elded the property. Yesterday it had been bare, an open piece of green offering a glimpse of the mansion beyond. Now a large black sign was standing in the clearing, carrying the logo of a local real estate company. Big gold letters at the top proclaimed, "For Sale."

Rocky's jaw dropped for several seconds before he found the words. "She's selling the house?"

"Apparently. So I take it you didn't know?"

"No. Didn't you?"

"No."

They both turned to stare at the sign. "What made her decide to move out?" Rocky hoped it wasn't something to do with all the animals he'd dumped on her lately.

Ben rubbed his chin. "Don't know."

He glanced at the other luxury homes nearby. "I don't think the neighbors will appreciate the sign. Not very cla.s.sy."

"I think it's for my benefit."

"Oh. Where's she moving to?"

A small smirk touched Ben's mouth. "That part I might know." Suddenly animated, Ben put the car in gear.

"Hey, wait!" Rocky put both hands on the open window frame, as if he could stop the car from moving. "I need to talk with you about an idea I had to catch whoever is after the Pellinni Jewels. It's important."

"Not as important as this." Ben must have given his rash statement a second thought because he paused and said, "Call Detective Furley. I'll catch up with you later." He hit the gas, spraying gra.s.s and bits of gravel.

Rocky stepped back and watched him speed up the winding driveway. He preferred talking to Ben, but there was no way he wanted to go in the house, especially while Ben was asking Elizabeth to marry him or move in with him or whatever happy ending he'd seen on the man's face. Rocky was pretty sure his presence would kill the mood.

Turning, he walked back toward his car, head down, eyes watching the ground.

"Hey!"

He jerked around, recognizing the voice even when it barked at drill sergeant volume. "Hi, Libby."

She stood at the edge of the driveway, beside one of the tall black gates, Freddie at her side. The dog leapt forward to greet him, then fell back at Libby's sharp tug on his leash. Rocky felt the correction as much as if the leash had been attached to his neck. This was not going to be a friendly encounter.