Fatal Chocolate Obsession (Death by Chocolate Book 5) (10 page)

He really did seem totally besotted with her. Too besotted to be leaving gifts on my front porch?

I started out the door then stopped as something niggled at my brain, something that didn’t quite fit in place. “You said it was getting dark when you found Rick.”

Dr. Robin lifted her gaze from the notes she was making on a clipboard. “Yes. I got to his house around seven.”

“Seven o’clock. Twilight but not dark.”

“Does that mean something?” Robin asked.

“No, no. Just curious. Have a good evening.”

Something was off. I could believe Rick would be crazy enough to leave a gift on my porch even though he was in love with somebody else. But in order to get back to his place, be attacked, fight off the attacker, and lie bleeding until Robin found him, he’d have had to do it in broad daylight and risk being seen by someone. Rick always made his gift-giving trips in the middle of the night.

I stopped dead in the middle of the hospital corridor, almost causing a collision with a nurse. She frowned at me and hurried on her way. Other nurses and visitors flowed around me, anonymous faces, people I’d never seen before and didn’t really see then.

Rick had not inquired if I enjoyed his gifts, something he always did after leaving them.

I had to consider the possibility that Rick was lying in his garage bleeding or in the hospital on drugs when that butterfly appeared on my porch.

For once Rick might be innocent. Somebody else could have left the butterfly, the flowers and the wine. A stranger could be watching me, writing stupid poems for me, coming onto my porch, to the back door of my restaurant, invading my space, leaving unwelcome gifts.

Chapter Eleven

 

I walked out of the hospital to find that the sky had clouded over and the air held a damp chill. Winter was on its way. That seemed appropriate.

I drove home in a hyper-alert daze. Yes, I know that sounds contradictory, but it’s the only way I can explain it. Every time a car was behind me for more than a block, I looked in the rearview mirror and tried to memorize the license plate, then turned down a side street to see if the car would follow. Once I thought somebody in a car in front of me looked vaguely familiar, but decided that was a little paranoid. It’s difficult to follow somebody from in front.

It took me a long time to get home.

When I reached my neighborhood, I peered through the gathering shadows of evening at people walking their dogs, at every tree in case somebody was hiding behind it, inside every car parked in a driveway or on the street. Since I live in a neighborhood built before the days of attached garages, there were a lot of cars parked on the street.

I turned into my driveway and got out. Early darkness hovered around the edges of the clouds overhead and around my house and yard. My oak tree loomed ominously, its trunk big enough to hide somebody. I really should have trimmed those bushes at the back of my house. A whole gang of stalkers could be hiding in them.

I shivered. Not because I was scared, of course, but because the air was a little chilly.

Okay, it’s possible some of that chill was inside me rather than outside. Hard to tell.

I put my car in the garage, closed the door and wished I could lock it. Not that it mattered. A solid push would bring down the entire structure.

So far my out-of-season Santa Claus had left gifts on my front porch at home and my back door at work. But who knew what he was going to do next? Climb a ladder to my bedroom window? Be waiting in the back seat of my car when I left for work? He’d have to be extremely short to do that, but short people can be dangerous too.

Light glowed from Paula’s living room and kitchen windows. Fred’s house was dark, which didn’t mean he wasn’t there. He has blackout shades and heavy curtains on all his windows. Across the street Sophie’s house was also dark. As far as I knew, she didn’t have blackout shades. They wouldn’t have fit with the décor.

I headed toward the darkness of my front door. As soon as I fed Henry, I could go to Paula’s, hang out, visit with Zach. Or I could go over and knock on Fred’s door, see if his blackout shades were drawn and he was working or if he and Sophie were over there in the darkness doing what people do in the darkness.

Not that I was trying to avoid my own home. I just felt certain Paula would want to know about Rick’s condition, and I needed to talk to Fred, tell him about my epiphany that Rick hadn’t been leaving the gifts. Judging from the meticulous way he’d collected the wrapping paper and note card, he probably already suspected that. If he found fingerprints, he might know it for certain. Maybe he’d researched the fingerprint database and already knew who my stalker was. A visit to Fred was definitely in order.

Okay, to be honest, I felt creepy about going into my house. Having Rickhead around the last couple of years, spying on me, popping up at odd moments such as in my shower when he was supposed to be dead had been freaky enough. Knowing somebody was watching me and coming onto my porch while I slept in the room above with my window open was every bit as unnerving as the time people kept breaking into my basement.

I straightened my spine and resolved not to let some sicko make me scared of my own home. I opened the front door and Henry dashed out, gave me one head butt, then turned and stalked toward the kitchen. I was late and he was hungry. My fears abated. Henry’s calm demeanor told me no intruder was in the house or on the porch.

I dropped my purse on the coffee table and went straight to the kitchen.

He sat beside his empty bowl, looking at me accusingly.

I retrieved his dry food from the pantry and filled his bowl then added a dollop of smelly canned food as a treat since he’d had to wait so long.

As soon as I set it on the floor, he dove in.

I got out a chunk of cheese and some crackers then sat down at the table and made dinner conversation. “Remember Rickhead, the guy you don’t like? Well, he almost got killed.”

Henry continued to eat noisily, but I knew from his occasional snort that he was listening. I told him all about Rick and his new girlfriend.

“No idea what she sees in him. Maybe her friends dared her to find the lowest piece of pond scum around and date him.”

“Anlinny!”

I screamed and whirled at the sound of a voice behind me. For an instant my heart tried to climb into my throat, but in the next instant it went back down where it belonged. Only one person calls me Anlinny, kid-speak for Aunt Lindsay. Paula’s three year old son, Zach.

The boy hurled himself at me and grabbed me around the leg. “You got cookies?”

With a hand that shook only slightly, I tousled his soft blond hair. “For you, I can probably find a few. They may be old and moldy.”

“Okay.” He released me and petted Henry who continued to eat.

Paula came into the room. “I’m sorry. Zach was so eager to see you, he ran ahead. Apparently your door was unlocked so he invited himself in.”

“I left my front door unlocked? Oh, great!” I started for the living room, but Paula stopped me.

“I locked it. I tried to turn on your porch light too, but it’s burned out.”

“I’ll replace the bulb.” I definitely wanted to do that. I’d leave it on all night and hope the light would be a deterrent to anyone sneaking onto my property.

Paula held up a bottle of white wine. “I thought you might be upset so I brought some comfort.”

“Bless you! You grab the glasses, and I’ll get some cookies and juice for Zach.”

I found a chocolate chip cookie and handed it to Zach along with a glass of white grape juice.

“Is my cookie moldy?” he asked.

“Of course.” It wasn’t.

He smiled and accepted the cookie and juice. “My wine?”

“Yep. Try not to get too drunk. You’re the designated driver.”

He nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

Paula stood at the counter, uncorking the real bottle of wine. “Sit at the table so you don’t spill your drink on the floor.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or Zach, but he obediently took a seat at my kitchen table.

Paula poured the wine and we took seats at the table on each side of Zach. I lifted my glass and drank half of it in one gulp.

“That bad, huh?” Paula asked.

I nodded.

Paula sipped her wine. “I was afraid it would be. You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

I frowned. “Am too.” I lifted my glass for another gulp.

Paula laughed softly. “I just meant that it’s normal to be upset when you realize somebody you once loved almost died.”

I choked on my wine, spit some on the table and went into a laughing, coughing fit.

Paula grabbed a napkin and cleaned the table. “Are you okay?”

I cleared my throat and wiped tears from my eyes. “You think I’m freaked out because Rickhead almost got killed? Were you upset when they hauled David off to prison?”

“That’s different. He tried to take Zach, have me sent to prison, and kill you. I hated him for a long time before I escaped from him. But when you and Rick first split up, you were…um…
distraught
about the separation.”

I took another sip of wine. “That’s the thing about long-time friends. You remember things I’d rather forget. Well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been
distraught
.”

“So Rick’s not the reason you just drank half a glass of wine without tasting it?”

“In a way, but not the way you’re thinking.” I told her about Rick’s new girlfriend and the fact that it was unlikely he’d left the crystal butterfly on my porch. “If we assume the same person left all the gifts and stupid poems, it would seem I have a secret admirer, aka a stalker.”

Paula shuddered. “And you left your front door unlocked tonight.”

“Henry met me, hungry but not excited the way he gets when somebody comes around who shouldn’t be here. Besides, I don’t obsess about locking my door. This is usually such a safe neighborhood.”

“Sure, except for the time my ex-husband tried to kill you in your own living room, and the time Tiger Lily almost murdered you in your bedroom. And how about Jay Jamison breaking into Sophie’s house and almost killing you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I plan to be very careful about locking all my doors from now on.”

“Why don’t you and Henry come over and spend the night with us?”

“Oboy! Can Henry come to my house?” Zach asked.

“Sometime,” I replied.

“Can I have another moldy cookie?”

“Sometime,” Paula said. She set her glass on the table and rose. “Young man, you need to go to bed.”

Zach’s blue eyes twinkled as he looked up at his mother. “Sometime.”

Paula grinned. “
Sometime
comes in fifteen minutes. Up!” She turned to me. “Coming with us?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think so. As long as Henry’s here, I’ll be fine.”

“At least call Trent and Fred and tell them.”

“I think Fred already knows. Last night he took the note and wrapping paper home with him. It’s possible he was just being tidy, but I think he knew the gifts weren’t coming from Rick.”

She nodded. “If Fred knows, I won’t worry about you. He’ll keep watch. Probably has a camera trained on your front porch right now.”

I made a mental note not to go outside naked.

Henry accompanied us to the door and strolled out into the night, searching for fun and adventure as well as gifts for me. “Hurry back,” I called after his ghostly form. He swished his tail. I interpreted that as agreement.

Paula looked up at my dark porch light. “Don’t forget to change the bulb. Now, while I’m still here.”

“You’re awfully bossy.” I reached up to unscrew the old bulb. It was loose. I screwed it in, turned on the switch, and the light came on.

I looked at Paula.

She looked at me. “Someone loosened your light bulb so it wouldn’t work. So he could hide in the dark.”

I swallowed hard. “We don’t know that. Maybe it came loose on its own. Maybe it’s been slowly coming loose for some time and finally reached the critical point today.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home with us?”

“Henry wants to come home with me.” Zach’s voice was sleepy and he leaned against his mother’s leg.

I ruffled his hair. “Had too much wine, didn’t you, Hot Shot?”

“Uh huh,” he mumbled.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for coming over.” I hugged Paula. “That’s another thing about long-time friends. You know when I need you.”

“Hug, Anlinny.” Zach’s eyelids drooped as he lifted his arms to me.

I reached down and picked him up. “You better ease up on the moldy cookies or soon I won’t be able to lift you.”

He giggled, wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Anlinny.”

I kissed his forehead. “Love you back.”

I watched until Paula and Zach were inside their house with the door closed. Paula had three locks on her front door. Perhaps I should follow her example.

With the porch light on, I felt as if I were standing in the spotlight, easily visible to whoever was out there. I turned it off.

The cloudy, moonless night wrapped its darkness around me. Maybe I should have gone home with Paula. I suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable.

“Henry!”

I saw no sign of my cat. The only movement was a dark sedan turning onto my street a few blocks away, its headlights spearing through the darkness toward me.

“Henry! Come here! Now!” I tried to control my voice, tried not to freak out just because a car was driving down my street. My neighbors could be coming home after going to a movie. Or they could have visitors. I wasn’t the only person who lived on that street.

The sedan came closer.

I held my breath, waiting for it to stop in front of somebody else’s house.

Like a ghost in the darkness, Henry sauntered over from Fred’s yard. The two of them pretended they didn’t like each other, but it wouldn’t have surprised me to find they were meeting in secret.

“Do you think you could move a little faster?” The sedan was a block away and, against all reason, I was starting to panic.

Apparently Henry did not think he needed to move any faster. I knew he could because I’d seen him streak across the yard when he was hungry. That night he moseyed.

The sedan came to a stop in front of my house.

Was this my stalker? Was he going to leave something on my porch? Could he not see me in the dark? Maybe I should turn on the porch light. But if he saw me, what would he do?

Funny how the night was no longer chilly. I was beginning to perspire.

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