Hope’s Child Read online

  “If Lara or Gerri see you stick a fork in anything before the first guests arrive, they’re apt to stick a fork in you. Go to the kitchen and they’ll have you over your daily calorie limit before you know it.”

  The first to arrive were Lyon’s people. Hope noticed that the men were a little reserved at first and, although the wives were wide-eyed and thrilled to be in what they considered a mansion, they were ready to find fault with her if they felt too awkward around her. Having traveled that road many a time since her school days, Hope welcomed everyone with the same warmth and enthusiasm. She’d made a point to query Lyon about each police officer’s family and memorized names so that as she showed the ladies to the guest room to hang their coats and pointed out the guest bathroom, she seasoned her descriptions with, “How’s your youngest, Elizabeth? I think Lyon told me that she needed tubes in her ears?” then “We thought about your Roger and some of the others being diabetic, Nancy. The dessert table has several desserts prepared for the no-sugar guests.”

  Kent and Shana arrived with the less-than-enthusiastic newspaper editor Tim Pettigrew in tow. That startled both Lyon and Hope, and they knew Tim had inveigled himself into an invitation when Shana rolled her eyes as she stood behind him. As they’d recovered, Gerri planted herself in front of Tim with her tray of hors d’oeuvres and with humor and southern charm declared, “Hello, Tall Drink of Water. You look parched with those pinched lips and in need of feeding.”

  Despite his sour-disposition, the newspaper man eyed the appealing treats with something close to lust. “If you think you can get free advertising out of this, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  Nonplussed, Gerri batted her false eyelashes at him. “Sugar, what I was thinking is that if you ate one or two of these salmon-chive with fennel goodies right in line to the I in Conti—” she shimmied to indicate her right breast “—you’d trust me enough to show you some real treats in the kitchen we’re saving for our favorite guests.”

  For a second, Tim looked as though he was about to charge for the front door, but suddenly he threw his head back and laughed. “Can’t see how a bite or two would hurt,” he said.

  Teagues and Roberts exchanged bewildered looks as Gerri led Scrooge personified off to new experiences.

  Within a half hour there were at least forty-five people scattered about, and at the top of the next hour three times that.

  “I told you that you were spoiling everyone,” Lyon said in her ear when they reconnected at one of the few vacant corners in the house. “No one wants to go home.”

  “It’s Christmas and everyone is tired of politics and conflict.” Hope eyed the crowd with pleasure. “Isn’t everyone getting along nicely? It’s been fun seeing chemistry in the works. See the forty-something Hispanic gentleman by the painting that I got at the auction?”

  “The conspicuous guy standing alone and bored?”

  “What’s conspicuous about him?”

  “He’s the only person here that’s in a full suit.”

  “Rafael Simone. My client, thank you. I’ve been meaning to introduce you, but we keep getting pulled in opposite directions. He manages the fish counter at the supermarket.”

  “There is no fish counter at the supermarket. There’s some packaged stuff due to FDA laws about keeping beef, chicken, and seafood separate and most of it looks like it traveled to Texas via a rowboat from Australia.”

  “But he dreams of there being one, or a little shop in town. He dresses impeccably because five days a week he deals with fish in a place that really doesn’t care about fish. We’re working on his dream.” Hope tightened her fingers on his sleeve. “I’m waiting for one of my widow ladies. They were talking earlier.”

  As Hope scanned the crowd, Lyon studied her. “Has it crossed your mind that he brushed her off and he’s waiting for you?”

  Frustrated, Hope directed his attention to the opposite side of the room where two people stood seemingly in rapt conversation over the igloo art beside the punchbowl. “Fine. Here’s one you can’t deny. Have you noticed your detective—”

  “Sweetheart, you’re allowed to look and sound like royalty from another era. I’m a chief not a chieftain. He’s not my anything.”

  Hope stroked his shoulder. “I’m making a point. He’s sought her out several times this evening. You said he’s not much for mingling and prefers field work.”

  “His divorce was tough on him. He’s probably intrigued with the physics of how she kept the ice clear so you could see the inside with the battery-operated fire display and the other figurines.” Belatedly he allowed, “She’s a pretty woman.”

  “He seems a very serious type. Look at how he listens to her. That’s a plus.”

  “Hope.”

  “All I’m saying is that a nice-looking man, who seems to hang on her every word, is a nice change of pace for her. She doesn’t need another ‘Don’t worry about it, honey’ con in her life again. Nor do her kids.”

  “Table that.” Taking hold of her shoulders, Lyon turned her toward the front entrance. “This requires your focus now.”

  Hope’s gaze settled on what was getting him all tense. Her father and Summer had just entered the house. “I don’t know how I can,” she told him. “That image defies the logic of everything inside me.”

  Lyon slipped his arm around her waist. “Take a deep breath and know I’ll be right beside you.”

  As usual, her father was his own fashion statement, wearing a black velvet tuxedo jacket and ruffled shirt over jeans and boots. Summer wore a black leather bomber jacket and pants with a red sequin tube top. Her ever-changing hair—today eggplant—was piled on her head with practiced indifference.

  “Merry Christmas,” Hope said as they reached them. “How nice of you to come. Father.” Once he took the unlit cigar out of his mouth, she gave him a polite peck on the cheek.

  “Hope, honey,” Summer gushed. “Aren’t you looking…ripe. When did you say you were due?”

  Taking Hope’s hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze, Lyon said, “Her doctor is actually concerned that’s she’s on the lowest end for acceptable weight gain.”

  “You’ve never looked better,” her father scoffed. “What’s wrong with that doctor?”

  “She’s an excellent doctor and very dedicated to her patients’ care,” Hope replied resting her head against Lyon’s shoulder. It had been dear of him to try and shut up Summer. “She did recommend I cut one activity from my routine for these last several weeks.” She gave him a sidelong look because he knew exactly what that might include.

  “I vote for shutting your office,” he said keeping his expression blank. “The yoga and the rest are all good for you.”

  Clearing her throat, Hope redirected. “You’re looking well, Dad.”

  “When my doctor told me to lose ten pounds, I cut back to two cigars a day.”

  The only person who seemed to think that was funny was Summer. Perturbed, Ellis narrowed his eyes at Lyon. “Well, you’re still here.”

  “Plan to keep it that way, too,” Lyon replied with a feral smile.

  “At least you don’t scare easily, I’ll give you that.” Looking bored with the conversation, Ellis scanned the room. “Quite the turnout.”

  Looking unhappy with the way the conversation had been going so far, Summer sniffed. “But is there anyone here we can talk to?”

  With something akin to a growl, Ellis pretended to flick ashes on top of her hair. “Well, hell, Summer, honey, you pretend to talk to me all the time. What’s the difference?” He ignored her double-take and demanded “Where’s the bar?”

  “No bar.” Lyon nodded across the room. “We have a facsimile of beer and a punch for the ladies with a touch of champagne. We want to make sure all of you make it home safely tonight.”

  Ellis looked like he smelled something bad and then patted his left pocket. “No matter. I always travel prepared.” As he drew a lighter out of his right pocket, Hope grabbed it.

  “Hey!�
�� her father snapped.

  “I don’t believe you,” Hope muttered. She directed both index fingers to her tummy. “Hello? Pregnant! I’ll return it as you leave.”

  “Go find me a glass with some ice cubes,” he told Summer. “Cubes, not that chipped crap. Don’t crack the skin on that,” he added to Hope pointing at the cigar she held out of his reach.

  As he walked off, Lyon took a restless hold of Hope’s shoulders. “Better hide that thing from me,” he said. “I’m about to snap it into half a dozen pieces and toss it into the flowerbeds.”

  “Sure,” she replied, “pollute my shrubs.”

  By 9:30 p.m., Lyon considered lighting the cigar himself—right under one of the smoke detectors. He was happy for Hope that things had gone as well as they did, but he was ready to clear everyone out. Attendance was down a bit from what she’d expected, but some of her older clients hadn’t shown up. Considering the hours they’d scheduled, they’d known that was a possibility. The Nichols had stayed away, too, but that was fine. One thing Hope could take pride in was how people lingered, especially his crew. And maybe she was right about Cooper and Lara. The detective was spending as much time in the kitchen as in here with the other guests.

  Laughter caught his attention and he saw Hope and Molly assisting one of the elderly clients up from a couch. Mrs. Dillinger, he thought, with an amused smile. Who was going to have trouble remembering a chauffeur-driven millionairess with a name like that? He went to offer his aid.

  “It was delightful, Hope, dear,” the woman said as she steadied herself with the help of several hands and her cane. “Next year a little less conservative with the champagne. I don’t have to worry about driving.”

  Hope laughed then put a cautionary finger to her lips. “Not so loud, Mrs. D. My husband the cop is within hearing distance.”

  The wiry woman gazed up at him with bright eyes that declared she was free of cataracts. “Hello again, good looking. You don’t have a twin brother, do you?”

  Raucous laughter followed them out of the house. At the sight of them easing down the sidewalk, her driver bolted from behind the wheel, opened the back passenger door and jogged up the sidewalk to take over.

  “I have her, sir,” he told Lyon.

  “This is Wilmington,” Mrs. Dillinger said releasing Lyon to pat the arm of the elderly chauffeur. “I’ve buried three husbands, buried two children, and made, lost, and made fortunes—the latter with help from your darling wife—but I’ve only had one chauffeur, eh Bobby?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Good night, sir,” he said to Lyon.

  Wilmington wasn’t much taller or younger than she was, but he was agile and caring, and clearly devoted to her. As they drove away, Lyon wondered if there was something more between them, then he shook his head. Hope’s romantic nature was starting to rub off on him.

  Although it was getting seriously cold now that the latest Blue Norther had pushed through, Lyon shoved his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket and walked down to the gate. Tan had slipped on the heavier coat he’d brought with him and wore a skier’s wide headband, too.

  “Come on inside,” he said, shaking the shorter man’s hand.

  “I good, Chief,” Tan replied, but he was bobbing in place like a boxer warming up for a fight. “I wait for all car to leave.”

  There were only five left and the catering van. “That’s Hope’s father’s car, and the others belong to my officers. Even after they leave, it’ll be another hour or more before the van leaves. Your work is finished. Come inside and let Molly get you a hot toddy or something.”

  “Thank you, Chief.” As they walked together, Tan said, “Molly say party very good.”

  “She’s right. Hope should be pleased. How did that radio work for you?”

  Tan patted the handheld device with his gloved hand. “A-OK! Detective Jones teach Molly how to use. I think I get radio for us. Easier than driving across pasture. Good to check on Molly.”

  “You’re right. It’s a very smart idea. I’ll tell Hope. We’ll get them for you.”

  They had reached the sidewalk and Tan was thanking him effusively when they heard a scream from inside the house, then another and then yelling. Lyon’s hand went immediately for his weapon, but, of course, he wasn’t wearing a gun tonight, and with a house full of cops, he told himself it shouldn’t have been needed. But what if Hope had fallen or been hurt somehow? He and Tan ran the rest of the way.

  When they burst inside, everyone was still, but the tension in the room told Lyon what the screams had. Something had gone wrong.

  His gaze encompassing, Lyon took in Summer Isadore cowering against one wall and looking like a train wreck with her hair falling, her mascara bleeding down her face and her nose bleeding. Buddy Yantis stood watching her as though ready to intercede if she threw herself toward Ellis. Ellis Harrell was being held against the opposite wall by Officers Juarez and Scott Laurie.

  Cooper Jones standing between them had apparently started trying to gauge what had happened. Everyone else, including Hope, stood back, their expressions reflecting utter shock. As soon as Molly saw Tan behind him, she hurried to him. Lyon briefly glanced at Tan and motioned for them to get to the side and out of the way for precaution’s sake.

  Sobbing and clutching her hand to her chest, Summer shouted, “I’m going to sue you, you pig! You broke my nose and my w-wrist.”

  “It should have been your neck,” Ellis snarled back at her.

  “What happened?” Lyon demanded advancing toward them. He saw Hope begin to speak but gave her a look that stopped her.

  Cooper situated himself on the other side of Summer to give Lyon clear scope, but gestured toward the master suite. “There was a scream from back there. As Juarez and I started to investigate, Mr. Harrell came barreling out of there dragging Ms.—” He glanced at Summer and then at Hope with uncertainty.

  “Isadore,” Hope supplied. “She was already bleeding from the nose,” she told Lyon.

  “She fell into the vanity,” Ellis added.

  “You hit me!” Summer declared.

  “Come here and I’ll show you the difference,” he growled.

  “Ellis!” Lyon’s rebuke won his father-in-law’s silence, although the older man continued to look like a predator unhappy with having only achieved half of his goal. “Did you hit her?” Lyon asked.

  “Yes!” Summer declared. “I want to press charges.”

  “She fell.”

  “You pushed me!”

  Ellis gave Lyon a satisfied smile. “Ah. Finally the truth from the alley cat’s own mouth.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lyon asked wearily, “Why?”

  “If your bulldogs would allow me, I’ll show you.”

  “No stupid moves,” Lyon said pointing into his face.

  “You have my word.” With that the two officers took a step back and Ellis slowly extended his clenched right hand, then opened it.

  Hope gasped.

  “Yes,” Ellis said. “This diamond bracelet was my wife’s and now belongs to my daughter. I gave it to Rebecca for our tenth wedding anniversary. When I heard that tramp complaining to Hope that she couldn’t wait for the other bathroom to be free, Hope graciously offered her own.” He gestured toward the master suite. “After what seemed like more than adequate time, I became suspicious and went to investigate. That’s when I found her rifling through my daughter’s things.”

  His speech was growing more slurred indicating to Lyon that as adrenaline faded, the effects of the alcohol he’d consumed became more apparent.

  Turning to Summer, Lyon asked, “Is that true? Did you take it?”

  “It was just lying there on the counter. I was only admiring it. The truth is, I thought it was fake.”

  “Liar!” Ellis roared. “You—”

  “Easy now,” Buddy Yantis warned. “You’re in the presence of ladies.”

  “I think,” Hope began slowly, “that if you will see to Summer’s medical expenses, Fa
ther, that we can agree it was just a bad misunderstanding.”

  “No way!” Summer shouted.

  Hope picked up several paper napkins from the nearest table and brought them to her. She said quietly, “The bracelet wasn’t on the counter.”

  “Oh, fine. My word against the Chief of Police’s wife. Talk about a stacked deck.”

  “If you want to keep up that attitude,” Hope replied, “I think you should understand that I’m within my rights to have you taken down to the station and strip-searched by the department’s female office, Maggie Greer.”

  “Miss Hope is right about the bracelet,” Molly said clutching Tan as he held her to his side. “I clean for her. I mean Mrs. Teague. She keeps her jewelry just the way her mama did hers. She told me when she was teaching me how to do my job and where everything goes. Everything is boxed with the papers included. Nothing is ever left out. This way nothing can fall down a drain or get lost in the carpet.”

  Hope returned to Molly and touched her shoulder. “Thank you, Molly.”

  Seeing that she was trapped by her own lies, Summer started wailing. “That’s not fair! Why should you get everything and I get crap? You don’t even like him!” she declared pointing at Ellis.

  “You’re right,” Hope replied. “Sometimes I don’t like him at all. But he’s my father, which is the only reason you were invited into this house. That courtesy won’t happen again.”

  Lyon nodded to Juarez. “Can you and your wife take this woman to the hospital and either have her treated or admitted, depending on what the x-rays show? I don’t trust her being alone with one officer in the car.”

  Juarez’s wife stepped beside her husband. “We’ll do it, Chief.”

  “I’ll be his backup,” Scott Laurie said.

  Lyon thanked them all and while Vince’s wife, Alicia, got their coats and Hope got Summer’s things, he took the two officers aside and gave them additional instructions, then apologized for costing them additional hours away from home. But Scott reminded him that he was single, and Vince said his mother-in-law was babysitting and that Alicia would call once they got to the hospital and explained things to her.