Night Angel (Angel Haven) (2 page)

Bradford scowled as the new arrival smacked the butler’s hand away. “Don’t touch me,” he growled.

The atmosphere in the hall changed, tension sparking along Karen’s skin as she could almost feel Bradford’s attitude turn as dark as the weather outside. She forced her voice to be light as she greeted the new arrival. “We meet again.”

He glanced at her, giving her a curt nod, then opened a side pocket on the backpack and pulled out a small black plastic bag.

Bradford snatched it from him. “You know him?” he asked, not turning to look at her.

“I asked him for directions on the way here,” she said, her gaze never leaving the face of the bedraggled stranger. “I’m Karen Spraiker.”

“I know who you are,” he said, his voice not betraying the anger she’d seen in his face a moment before.

Karen stared at him. He wasn’t much taller than her own five foot, nine inch frame. His dripping clothes made him look thin, until she noticed the broad chest, the wide shoulders, the size of his arms. No bulges, just tightly corded muscles. What her father called workman’s arms.

She smiled, trying to lift the mood surrounding them. “If I’d known you were coming here, I would’ve offered you a ride.”

He dropped the backpack on the floor with a loud splat and yanked the zipper open. “I wouldn’t have accepted. It’s against Mr. Troyington’s rules for any employee to mingle with the guests.”

“Will you at least tell me your name?” Karen asked, needing to know.

He shifted his stare to Bradford, as if daring the rich man to stop him. “Randall Dupré.”

“Where are you from?” The more he spoke to her, the more she felt a connection grow between them. Trying to get him to open up was another thing. And Bradford standing there looking daggers at him wasn’t helping.

Randall pulled a few more items from the backpack, handing them to Bradford. “A small town in northern Louisiana you’ve probably never heard of.”

Karen pushed harder, wanting to make him talk to her.
“What are you doing in upstate New York? Isn’t it a bit far from your home?”

Bradford jumped in. “He’s here under special contract to me. Would you meet me in the library? I need to speak to my employee for a moment.”

“Sure. It was nice meeting you,” she said to Randall, before heading to the double doors. She hesitated at the doorway, then turned to get one more look at him. His wet clothes clung to his body like a second skin, allowing her to see all the lines and contours his clothing hid. She couldn’t help staring at him, letting her mind wander in a direction that was sure to distract her from the “mystery” she was here to solve. As she gazed at him, she decided calmness and focus could take a hike where he was concerned.

She backed up a couple of steps to find a seat and wait for her host when the sound of a slap snapped her back to the present. She flinched as Bradford struck Randall’s face again. Karen’s fingers curled into fists as she moved forward, her hero’s instincts pushing her to intervene. As Bradford raised his hand again, Randall’s arm shot out, grabbing Bradford’s wrist. She drew in a breath, watching the muscles in his arm tighten as he forced his employer’s arm down.

Randall grabbed the front of Bradford’s shirt and jerked him close. His other hand balled as he drew his arm back. Bradford’s mouth curled up in a mocking smile while he said something in a low voice. Randall let go and stepped back, shaking as his fingers curled into tight fists. The muscles in his neck tightened and veins popped out on his arm as Bradford spoke to him.

“I said, let’s hear it,” Bradford said, his voice raised loud enough for Karen to hear.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Troyington, for any problems I may have caused,” Randall snapped, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Please forgive me.”

“Better. Now get to the basement. The sun’s almost set, and I don’t want you scaring the guests.”

Karen held on to the door frame as Randall came closer to her, raising his gaze to hers. She’d stood watching, listening, perhaps a little longer than she should have. Water dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn’t blink, didn’t move. Karen’s breathing faltered as they just stared at each other. He raised his hand, almost touching her face before snatching it back and stalking to the basement. The anger in his steps reverberated through her as he stormed away.

Karen backed into the library, settling herself on a small loveseat. What had Randall done to receive such harsh treatment? He wasn’t happy about it, so why stand there and take it? Was Bradford this strict with all his staff? And why did Randall affect her like that? She shook her head. She’d just arrived and already had way too many questions. This was not the way to start a relaxing weekend.

She barely heard the background babble of the other guests as they mingled, wandering around the medium sized room. Glasses clinked and they laughed quietly. She closed her eyes. “Get a grip,” she thought again.

An older woman with short, white hair and sparkling blue eyes walked over from near the doors and sat next to her. “Hello. I’m Edna. I don’t remember seeing you here before. Is this your first murder mystery weekend?”

“Yes, it is,” she said, turning to the woman. “Karen Spraiker. I won an invitation to come here from a contest. It came at the right time too. I was ready for a little R & R. How about you? Have you been here before?”

“Oh, yes. I come every year. I was a friend of Bradford’s parents.” Edna chuckled. “I was watching Bradford when he saw you. I think he likes you. He can’t hide anything from these old eyes.”

Karen smiled. “He just met me.” Of course, it would be nice to have a handsome, rich guy fall in love with her. After all, it happened for her best friend, Misty, but she wasn’t ready to jump back in the dating game just yet. And then there was Randall.

Edna nudged her lightly. “Sometimes that’s all it takes. One look and before you know it, you’re having a wedding.”

Karen laughed. “Isn’t that jumping the gun a little? I’m not looking for anyone right now. I’m just here to have fun.”

“And fun you’ll have,” Bradford said, coming into the library. “I have a good mystery in store for you all. But that’s for tomorrow. Right now, I’ve been informed dinner is ready.”

Karen hung back, watching the group move to the dining room. There were only about ten or so and were mostly older folks. All of them had a look about them that made Karen wonder if they ran in Bradford’s social circles. Movement outside caught her eye. She crossed to the floor length window, looking to her left, then right. She was sure something was out there. What had she seen?

“Ms. Spraiker, are you coming?” Bradford held his arm out to her.

“Yes. I thought I saw something. It was like a large bird.” She looped her arm through his as they headed to the dining room. “And, please, call me Karen.”

“You probably did. You’re in the country, after all.”

“That’s reassuring. At least we know I’m not crazy.” She smiled at her host, but her mind wouldn’t quit. She’d never heard of any birds as big as what she thought she’d seen.

“Has Mr. Dupré worked for you long?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

Bradford frowned. “I regret bringing him here. He’s more trouble than he’s worth. If I didn’t need him for a certain project, I’d send him packing.”

She watched him frown as he talked about Randall, black emotions contorting his handsome features. Her combat instincts screamed at her, and she forced herself not to pull away. “Isn’t there anyone else you can get? I mean, if he’s such a problem, why keep him?”

“He has unique skills I require.” He patted her hand. “Let’s not talk about him any more. What do you think of my home so far?”

“It’s very grand, with a style all its own.” That style being gaudy, ostentatious, and totally overblown, she thought, looking at the ample supply of gold filigree, velvet drapes, and wall hangings making the large hall feel small and cramped. “I wanted to ask you if your butler is feeling okay. He’s really pale.”

To Karen’s surprise, he laughed. “Jeffries is fine. He used to be in the theater. His father worked for my family. When his father died, Jeffries felt obligated to take over for him. Now, every year when I continue my parents’ murder mystery tradition, he puts on his makeup to give the place atmosphere. I think he enjoys this as much as I do.”

“Oh. He has a great touch. He really looks like he’s on his last legs.”

Bradford shrugged. “The skeletal look is a little cliché, but it works to get people in the mood for murder.”

Voices drifted from the dining room, and she heard chairs scraping against the floor and the guests’ voices as they talked. The heavy cloth in the hall was doing its best to absorb any sound that drifted its way.

“I can’t wait for everything to start. I’m not sure what to expect, but it’s bound to be exciting.” She couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice, nor did she want to. She could feel the tension leaving her shoulders the longer she was there. All she wanted was a good time and no worries.

Bradford smiled at her as they entered the brightly lit dining room, the guests seated all the way around with two empty places at the head of the table. He placed her on his left and moved to the end. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’d like to propose a toast. To our newest detective, Karen Spraiker. I wish her the best of luck when the mystery begins.”

The guests raised their glasses, shouting, “Hear, hear.”

Karen smiled, nodding her thanks at their show of support. Her thoughts strayed back to Randall.
Where is he now? Did he ever get dry?
Maybe he took a hot shower to warm up. She could almost see him peeling the wet jeans down his legs and pulling the soaked T-shirt off. Her cheeks flamed as she realized where her thoughts were leading her. She gulped down more wine to hide her embarrassment and forced herself to pay attention to the dinner conversation. This was going to be an interesting weekend, one way or the other.

Chapter Two

The morning sun streamed through the windows, brightening the hall and lighting the dining room with a golden glow. Karen inhaled the tantalizing aroma of eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee as she and the other guests walked around the buffet-style breakfast, choosing what they wanted, the silver pans sparkling as steam swirled upwards.

Excitement colored the conversation buzzing around her as she glanced at the guests. Bradford talked with Edna, seated to his right, as everyone helped themselves to coffee, tea, or orange juice and talked about what was to come.

“I can’t wait for things to get hopping,” an older gentleman said on her left, reaching for the coffee pot.

Jeffries came in, leaning down to whisper to his employer. Bradford stood and cleared his throat. “My butler has just informed me of a terrible crime. Our dear Mr. Lawrence has been viciously murdered and is currently lying on the floor of my study.” Bradford smiled as the voices increased in volume. “Your adventure, ladies and gentlemen, has begun.”

Silverware clattered on plates and chairs scraped against the floor as the group hurried to the study. There, Mr. Lawrence lay on the floor with a knife protruding from his chest, blood pooling around the blade. Karen bent for a closer look and saw the “victim” still breathing.

“Who would do such a thing?” she asked, getting into the spirit of the mystery.

“That’s what you all will attempt to find out,” Bradford said. “I will give you one tidbit to start with. All the clues will be found around the house, and anyone could be the killer, so be on your guard. Lunch will be served at two.”

As the rest of the group dispersed, Bradford pulled Karen aside, kissing her cheek. “Good luck.” He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving his guests to their own devices to solve the crime.

Karen smiled at his gesture. It was nice but didn’t really do anything for her like Randall’s icy gaze did. Just thinking about Randall made her heart pound. “Get a grip,” she muttered. She bent down to retrieve a slip of paper from the “dead” man’s jacket pocket.

“Shall we team up?”

Karen turned. Edna stood there, her mischievous smile lighting up her eyes.

“I suppose so. Are we allowed to work in teams?”

Edna nodded, offering her hand to Karen. “Of course. And with our combined talents, we’ll surely win the prize at the end of the weekend.”

“You’re not just saying that to try and eliminate me later, are you?” Karen asked, raising an eyebrow.

Edna laughed, her voice bouncing around Karen like bubbles. “Don’t be silly. We need each other. And I’ll get even with Mrs. Donovan. She’s won two years in a row. We’ll show her what for.”

Karen shook Edna’s hand. “It’s a deal.” She pulled out the slip of paper. “Look what I found.”

Edna rubbed her chin. “It looks like someone wanted a meeting with him last night. And look over there.” She pointed toward the french doors. “There’s muddy foot prints on the rug.”

Karen stepped carefully over the footprints to open the doors. “Let’s check outside for clues.”

The two women stepped out on the half circle stone porch. Karen inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp autumn air. Fall was her favorite season. The air had a freshness no other time of the year could claim. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked at the woods encircling the property. The leaves were starting to turn color with an explosion of reds and golds, standing out brightly from the azure blue sky.

Edna pointed at footprints in front of one of the windows. “Someone was here.”

“They go off that way.” Karen headed to the corner of the house, Edna hard on her heels. “Listen.” They heard the sound of chopping and slowed as they reached the end of the house. Peeking around the corner, Karen saw Randall splitting logs.

His arms tightened and rippled with every swing. It only took him one blow to split a large chunk of wood cleanly in two. He’d taken off his shirt, and it lay in the grass behind him, his tanned skin glowing in the morning light.

The warm October sun beat down on him, and his body glistened with the sweat of his labor, despite the chill breeze. His hair, blue-black in the bright sun, clung to his forehead, his faded blue jeans slung low on his hips.
Why isn’t he wearing work gloves?
she wondered. His long fingers held the ax handle in a firm, comfortable grip.