June was right. The bullet had gone through the rose vine, ripping flowers from their branches on the trellis. Niki jumped on Cait in quivering anticipation of a treat. She offered him one as her cell rang. She didn’t want to take the call from Alt, but answered it anyway.
“Kenneth, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“I’m anxious to know your intentions for the painting,” he said.
“I’ve been busy and haven’t had time to think about it.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m willing to offer a reasonable amount of money to own that painting.”
“Kenneth, please don’t rush me. Someone is taking shots at me daily. I can’t think straight right now about the painting, but I will call with my decision soon. Be patient.”
A sixth sense caused her to look across the yard to the parking lot. She squinted to see Manning standing in front of RT’s trailer. That explained why she hadn’t heard the motorcycle. She held her cell away from her ear. “Rook.” When he turned, she pointed. “There’s your chance to ask Manning about Pagan Alley.”
She brought the phone back up to her ear. “Kenneth, I have to go. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Of course,” he said. “Be careful. It would be terrible if anything happened to you just after we’ve met.”
Was that a threat?
“See you later,” June said. “I’ve had enough of Manning.”
“I don’t blame you.” Cait followed Rook.
Manning turned as Cait and Rook approached.
“Mr. Tanner has good taste,” Manning said as he admired the vintage Airstream. “What does he do for a living?”
“He travels. I thought you were leaving.”
“I couldn’t resist a closer look at the trailer. What do you know about it?”
“Just that it’s a nineteen-seventy Airstream.” Cait wished she had her sunglasses. The sun reflected from Manning’s gold necklace and shimmered off the silver trailer.
“Maybe he’ll let me see the inside sometime.” Manning peered over the top of his sunglasses at Cait. “Unless you happen to have a key and would let me in.”
She thought about the keys RT left with Ilia in case of an emergency. “Sorry.”
Manning shrugged. “Never hurts to ask.”
“Ever hear of Pagan Alley?” Rook asked.
Manning’s eyes were unreadable behind his mirrored sunglasses, but his lips were pressed tightly together, and his body was suddenly taut as a bowstring.
Cait swallowed a smile. Rook caught Manning off guard.
Manning seemed to make a conscious effort to relax. He reached down his right leg as if to adjust the hem of his jeans on top of his boot. “How would I know? Is it in Livermore?”
Cait wondered if he had a knife strapped to his ankle or inside his boot to go along with the gun he’d blatantly revealed earlier. Just looking at his leather jacket made her hot, but he didn’t appear to be sweating despite the ninety-degree temperature.
Rook removed his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. “Yes. I thought Wally might have mentioned it.”
Manning shook his head. “He doesn’t make a habit of calling me, Detective. When he does, it’s usually about money. Is this place important?”
“Could be,” Rook said. “You were leaving. We won’t keep you.”
But Manning shifted his feet, as if unsure what to do. “Cait, walk with me. Maybe you’ll change your mind about letting me take you for a ride while I still have use of the Ducati. I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.” He walked away.
She looked at Rook. “This won’t take long. Might even be interesting to hear him try to convince me why I should risk my neck.”
Rook’s scowl told her he didn’t like her going off alone with Manning. After a short distance, she glanced back and saw Rook with his phone to his ear and his eyes riveted on her. She knew Rook to be cautious, weighing each decision before acting. He reminded her of Shep. By contrast, she was impatient and far more outspoken than either of them.
Manning waited for Cait by the motorcycle in front of the house. Cait sensed he had something more on his mind than a motorcycle ride with her.
“I’ll be honest, Cait. There is another reason I’m here.”
Well, duh. “Did you lie to Detective Church?”
“No, I just didn’t tell him everything.” A warm breeze tossed Manning’s sandy hair around the top rim of his glasses. When he removed them, his eyes flicked past her. “It’s hard getting you alone.”
“This is as alone as we can be considering the circumstances. What’s on your mind?”
He shook his hair back, replaced his glasses, and shifted his feet. “I’ll be blunt. Was race a factor in shooting Hank Dillon?” He held his hand up before she could respond. “Let me finish. I see a lot of discrimination in my line of work . . . in the war zones. Like it or not, it’s there. I write about it.”
Cait tried not to sound as startled as she felt. To accuse her of racism was absurd. “My line of work was on the streets of Columbus! I wrote about that. You’re accusing me of killing Hank because he was black? That’s absurd. Black, red, yellow . . . color never entered into my decision. Then or ever. You were there; you took my picture. Hank Dillon was a split second from pulling that trigger and killing a police officer. I couldn’t allow that to happen.” Her head pounded; she had to dig deep for her next breath. “Why don’t you hop on that fancy bike and leave? It’s obvious you’re here under false pretenses. Not for Wally, but because of who you think I am.” She turned away.
He grabbed her arm. “Shit. The racial possibility’s been eating at me for a long time and I had to get it out. Don’t go. Please.”
Cait yanked her arm back and glared at him. “You asked before if I trusted you. You haven’t given me a reason to.”
A corner of his lips curled. “And maybe you shouldn’t, until I prove I am here for the right reason.”
Manning muddled her mind, just like her ex-husband, a police chaplain, used to do. Roger Pepper toyed with her to keep her guessing and off balance. At the same time she’d worked hard at her job as a cop and as a crime analyst, she’d fluttered like a flag in the wind in her personal life. Without Shep, her friend and mentor, she would have cracked under the pressure of having shot and killed a human being. Not something to be proud of, but it had been necessary to save another’s life.
Manning raised his leg over the seat of the motorcycle. “See you in the morning?”
Cait nodded. What choice did she have? She needed him, her only link to Wally.
He grabbed his helmet, pulled it on, then keyed the ignition. The engine purred to life without the thunderous noise when he’d arrived.
Manning reached for the throttle, turned the bike around, then gunned the engine and shot down the driveway.
Cait watched until he’d disappeared. “Out of my sight! Thou dost infect my eyes.” Great. Now I’m quoting Shakespeare.
Cait got as far as the garage when she heard an engine coming up the driveway. Is Manning coming back? Then she recognized Stanton Lane’s orange Land Rover and went over to greet him after he parked his car.
“Are you lost?” she asked.
Lane smiled and held his hand out to her. “No. I had to check on the house across the road and wanted to see you before I went home. How are you?”
The diamond in Lane’s Masonic signet ring winked at Cait as he reached to shake her hand. Tasha’s lawyer, an aficionado of cartoon suspenders, wore Bugs Bunny today. “That depends on how much time you have, Mr. Lane. There are things regarding the house I’d like to talk with you about, but it’s not urgent.”
“You still can’t call me Stan.”
“Afraid not,” she said. “Doesn’t feel right.” She squinted at the sun. “Would you like to come in out of the heat? I can offer you iced tea.”
“I’d like that.” He removed his jacket and tossed it in the car. As they walked, he said, “I know this estate doesn’t have financial concerns, so what troubles you?”
As they went around the house, they ran into Rook and the two officers, Perough and Vanicheque.
“I’m glad you didn’t give in and go on a joy ride with Manning,” Rook said.
Cait rolled her eyes. “That would never happen. Detective Rook, you remember Stanton Lane.” She introduced the officers. “Would you care to join us for a cold drink?”
Inside, Cait pulled stools out for everyone, then went to the refrigerator and took frosted glasses from the freezer.
“Are you in trouble?” Lane asked. “Obviously something’s wrong, or these officers wouldn’t be here. Does it have anything to do with the motorcycle that flew out of here as if hot on a mission?”
Interesting question. She poured the iced tea and sat down. She kept her story about the bank robbery short, but thought Lane deserved to know should anything happen to her. When she finished, she desired something stronger than tea.
Lane’s face pinked. Cait wasn’t sure whether it was from anger or the heat.
“You were doing your job,” Lane said. “Maybe it took him two years to trace you because he was in prison. I’m partly responsible because I coerced you into coming here.”
“I’m a big girl. It was my decision to accept my inheritance.”
He stared into his tea. “Who is Manning?”
Cait looked at Rook. “Maybe you should tell him.”
Rook took a long drink from his glass. “Calder Manning’s parents adopted Hank Dillon when he was twelve.” His short explanation took only a couple of minutes. “You just missed him.”
“The maniac on the bike,” Lane said. “Can he help?”
“That remains to be seen,” Cait said.
The officers slid off their stools. “Thanks for the tea. We should be going.”
“Hold on.” Rook looked at Cait. “What do you want to do about Marcus and Fumié?”
“Do you think they’ll be okay outside while they work on their sketches?”
“I doubt Wally would give them a second look.” He looked at the officers. “How are your carpentry skills?”
“Good enough to impress even you,” Perough said.
Rook smiled. “Offer to help them. Marcus can give you tools. Before you do that, split up and check the vineyard and that hill behind the theaters. I need to get back to the station.” He stood. “Nice to see you again, Lane.”
Lane got to his feet. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”
Cait walked Rook and the officers to the door, then turned back to Lane. In light of her problems, he had taken in the situation more calmly than she expected.
“Good thing you’ve got a security system,” he said. “Any word from Royal Tanner?”
Lane asking about RT surprised her, since theirs hadn’t been a friendly acquaintance. “He was here recently but was called back to duty. He left his Hummer and trailer here because he had to leave in a hurry. He brought me a dog. A chocolate lab named Niki.”
“Wonderful! Everyone should have a pet. I used to have a couple of schnauzers.”
“June and Jim Hart, a retired couple, are here now living in their RV. She and Tasha were good friends. Maybe Tasha mentioned her to you. I’d like you to meet them.”
“Another time. I’m happy you have someone else living up here.”
Cait decided to tell Lane about her plans for the house. “Marcus and Fumié have come up with plans for a gift shop near the theaters. I’ll be glad to have it out of the house. That will leave room for my own office and a combination glass shop and workshop.” His smile encouraged her to continue. “I’ll need furniture for the rooms.”
Lane snapped his suspenders and smiled. “Not a problem. Let me know when you’re ready to go shopping. This should have been done long ago. Have the bills sent to me.”
Relieved, she said, “Thank you.”
Cait walked him outside and watched as he backed his car around and drove off. Telling Lane about Chip Fallon had been difficult, but she thought he should know. If anything happened to her, Lane needed to know why and who was responsible.