Love Under Two Detectives Page 3

  “Hot tea is here, and you’re absolutely not late, Sam.” Bernice Benedict and her sister-in-law, Abigail, came into the great room right behind Samantha. The women wheeled in a single cart that this time held a large tea service and five cups.

  “I hope you like Darjeeling,” Abigail said to Mary.

  Mary smiled despite the sense of impending doom. “I think I’m about to find out.”

  “We’re not holding an intervention—exactly,” Samantha Kendall said to her. “So do relax, Mary.”

  “Oh, a ‘not exactly’ intervention,” Mary echoed. “I haven’t ever had one of those, either.”

  It took only a few minutes for them to get their cups of tea. Once they were all sitting again, it was Kate, not Samantha, who got the ball rolling.

  “Have you told Adam why you’re here, sweetheart?”

  Mary wasn’t as successful as she would have liked to be in controlling her reaction to that surprising question. She should have feigned innocence, as if she had no idea what Grandma Kate was talking about. Or, she should have put on her sympathetic face and told them that she hadn’t, but she appreciated their concern, and left it at that. She did neither of those things, and she blamed her lack of sleep for it. What she did was revert to her teenage self—a definite sign that she really needed to spend more time with these women as an adult human being.

  Mary felt her eyes roll and couldn’t stop that impudent gesture. “I don’t see why I should. I had a problem, and I dealt with it. Besides, Adam is a cop. Do you have any idea how cops tend to react when they talk to me?”

  “If I may?” Bernice asked.

  “Have at it, Bernie,” Samantha answered.

  “I would submit that the usual reason you speak with police officers can be filed under the heading of research. And when you hound them with suggestions for the cases they’re currently working on, why, I do believe that the real reason for their visceral reactions to you has to be that they’re embarrassed to have been shown up by someone they consider to be a civilian and a nuisance. Not that you are a nuisance, of course.”

  Mary sighed. Had she ever realized that Aunt Bernice was such a clever smartass? It was a trait she admired and one she would try to emulate. She’d have to make a note to spend more time one-on-one with the woman. In the meantime, she needed to respond and was determined to do a better job of it than she had to this point.

  “I do have a tendency to be dogged,” she said. She took a sip from her cup. She’d added just a bit of sugar and a dollop of milk to her tea, as was her usual habit. Darjeeling. She thought she liked it. More than she’d expected to. Then she set her cup down and folded her hands.

  Having grown up in a family in which the women were outnumbered by men—she didn’t even have a sister or a female first cousin—she hadn’t ever been the focus of this much adult female interest—well, except when she had been a teenager.

  None of these women were strangers to her. She’d been spending summers and some Christmases in Lusty for all of her life. Her Aunt Samantha was as much an aunt to her as were her father’s twin brothers’ wives, Aunt Lynn and Aunt Erica.

  She’d often thought that the circumstances of her father and his brothers, a set of triplets discovering they also had a set of triplet half-brothers, lay at the heart of what she’d chosen to do with her life.

  Mysteries had always drawn her in. The only surprise was that real-life mysteries could be just as compelling to her as fictional ones. That realization hadn’t, in her case, lead to the obvious conclusion when it came to her life’s work.

  Mary Kendall was not a cop nor an investigator.

  As far as her family was concerned, and by family she meant, of course, her brothers and cousins, she wasn’t much of anything. Some of them called her a professional student, and others suggested that she might want to find a husband so that she at least could count on a regular income.

  She hadn’t planned to tell anyone the truth. Sure, she presented herself as a woman who had it all together. Inside, she was as introverted as an introvert could possibly be. To her family, she appeared to be a woman who drifted aimlessly through life, taking one course after the next, none of which delineated a specific field of interest, let alone study. But the reality was that she was focused like a laser beam on a goal only she could see. Research, indeed.

  It was actually Aunt Samantha who guessed first, and of course, her aunt told her mother, who told her sisters-in-law. She’d only recently discovered that her father and uncles knew, as well. I suppose it’s only a matter of time before everyone else knows what I really do for a living. And a damned fine living it was too, because she was very, very good at her chosen craft.

  Mary Kendall in fact had an alter ego, the acclaimed mystery author, MJ Kendall. And the real reason she was in Lusty, the reason Grandma Kate referred to, was because New York no longer felt safe to her. Determined to be that adult now, she allowed herself to declare, mentally, that she did not feel safe in New York City.

  Not since that obsessed fan turned stalker Thomas Northcliffe had broken into her apartment and tried to murder her.

  Chapter Two

  Anthony Corbett, a lieutenant with the Waco Police Department, hated few things more than when he was called to execute an arrest warrant. Especially in this particular neighborhood. In this older part of the city, the houses all tended to be smaller and most of them in need of work. The neighborhood was also blessed with trees and shrubs and lots of places where a cop such as himself could, if need be, conceal himself. Sadly, that also meant someone not as friendly to the concepts of law and order could hide there, too.

  This is right up there on my personal hate list with breaking up a domestic dispute. Anyone who thought the life of a lieutenant on the city police force was all lights and glamor ought to shadow him for a few days. Because the subject of this warrant that they were about to execute was a person suspected to be dangerous, he and his partner, lieutenants and detectives both, would do the honors of entering the house, instead of a uniformed team.

  His was a sometimes dirty, sometimes dangerous job. But it was his job, one he’d been doing for the past fifteen years—and really, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Two months ago, he might have said that the only thing that could have made his professional life better would have been to have a partner with whom he clicked, one who could become a solid, good personal friend. He hadn’t had a partner, per se, in years. Not until the man the rest of the guys called Wyoming came to town and joined the force.

  He looked over at his new partner. Toby Kendall met his gaze and nodded. They’d discussed the plan to get this done as they’d driven here. Sylvester Gilmour had missed two court dates and was now wanted in connection with an armed robbery committed just the day before. The most recent information they had informed that he could be armed and was considered very dangerous and that his grandmother lived in this little house. An anonymous tip had come in that he was currently hiding there.

  They had backup, of course. Several uniformed officers waited out of sight a few blocks away, and the moment he and Toby breeched the residence, they would arrive, ready to help if need be.

  Because he and his partner would go in together, the first thing their backup would do would be to surround the house.

  Just do it. “Go.” Anthony said the single word softly, knowing that his partner and their backup would have heard it clearly through the communications equipment they all wore. Then, as one, he and his partner left their concealment and converged on either side of the front door of the small house. In his head, he counted down the seconds from the moment they both broke cover to the moment they crouched only a couple feet apart and bracketing that door. They had to move fast, because the neighbors in the area were nosy and might, at any time, decide to protest an arrest by using knives or guns, or both, depending.

  There was an outside door with a screen, which Toby pulled open even as Anthony stepped forward, leading with
his left foot to gain entry. Their timing was impeccable. One kick, and the door burst open.

  “Waco PD! Hands up! On the floor!”

  The lone middle-aged woman in the house’s living room dropped to the floor, her arms outstretched. She met Anthony’s gaze. Then her fear-filled eyes looked toward the only possible hiding place in the room proper—a door that was either another very small room or a closet. Her slight nod told him all they needed to know.

  Toby took up position, left of this inner door, his weapon held in a two-handed grip. Anthony reached forward, grabbed the handle, and turned and yanked in one smooth move.

  The man hiding inside never had a chance. Toby moved so fast it was like watching the best kind of dance. Sylvester raised his right arm, knife extended, and Toby brought his weapon up so that his gun’s barrel rested on the left side of Gilmour’s head.

  “Give my partner your knife. Carefully. Now.”

  Fortunately, Gilmour understood he had no chance and no choice and immediately surrendered. Toby yanked the man out of the closet and forced him onto the floor, face down. It took him only another moment to pull Gilmour’s hands behind his back and secure the handcuffs.

  Anthony helped the woman—likely Gilmour’s grandmother—up off the floor.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “No, sir, I am not. I am very disappointed.”

  Since she didn’t seem inclined to say anything more to him, he turned his attention to his partner and their perp. Gilmour was a big dude, weight-wise, so Anthony helped Toby haul Sylvester Gilmour to his feet.

  The man’s grandmother stepped forward, her finger already wagging at her grandson.

  “You bring the police to my house? I am very disappointed in you! There’ll be no birthday present for you this year, Little Sly.”

  It was hard not to laugh, especially because Gilmour, for all that he truly had been a dangerous fugitive, wore a look of utter shame and embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry, Granny. I was scared.”

  “So was I, just now. Only I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

  It didn’t take long, once they were outside, to turn their captive over to a couple of uniform officers, who immediately read the man his rights as they led him off to a waiting cruiser.

  “Now all we have to do is go back to the station, write this up, and call it a day.” Anthony hoped to hell that was all that was left of their workday. They didn’t usually work on Sundays but had been asked to cover for a couple of their colleagues who’d booked the day off. Considering that and the fact that they weren’t actually working any other priority cases at the moment, and it was going to be end of shift in fifteen minutes, he figured their chances were good.

  “You’re still coming to Aunt Samantha’s for supper, aren’t you?” Toby headed for the passenger side of the car. His willingness to always let Anthony drive was a fact Anthony appreciated.

  “Are you kidding? Your aunt and uncles are the best cooks I’ve ever known. Not to mention the entertainment value of Sunday supper at the New House.”

  Toby grinned. “I know. Dinner and a show in one comfortable venue. Oh, Grandpa Noah told me to remind you that since this will be your third time at Sunday supper, you’re no longer considered a guest, you’re family. That means you will be considered fair game.”

  You’re family. Toby knew what those words meant to Anthony because in the short few months they’d been partners, they had clicked. They’d shared a mutual instant rapport that had only strengthened since they met.

  Anthony started the car and turned to his partner. “I’m looking forward to that part of Sunday supper, especially.”

  “And the other? We both finally tasted her last night. It’s nearly end of shift, and time for us to decide.” Toby had waited until they were underway.

  Anthony drove another block then pulled over against the curb. He put the car in park and then put his attention on his partner.

  “Aunt Samantha called earlier to let me know she’d be there,” Toby said.

  Toby’s distant cousin, Mary, had relocated from New York City and was now considered a citizen of Lusty.

  A few weeks ago, Anthony and Toby had begun to discuss the possibility of forming a partnership of a different sort. Since first laying eyes on Mary, they’d wondered—each on his own and then, finally, discussing it several times together—if she would be interested in getting together with them. They knew she was single, and they also knew she was in Texas to stay.

  Anthony had confessed to Toby that, for a long time, something about the concept of the ménage lifestyle called to him. Toby had more or less said the same thing—that when he heard his brothers had fallen in love with Brittany and intended to be her husbands, he’d been intrigued.

  Anthony wasn’t a man to believe in fate, necessarily. But between being raised by a mother who’d believed her late husband had been her soul mate and having so easily become friends with so many of the Kendalls, Jessops, and Benedicts, he had to wonder. And then when Toby had joined the force, and the captain had assigned them as partners—well, he was convinced. Fate was definitely playing a hand where he was concerned.

  His thoughts turned to Mary. Her soft brown shoulder-length hair might be in a sweet style or messy bun, depending. Her hazel eyes could flash yellow or green, again, depending. No one could ever call Mary Kendall malleable, and thank God for that. Anthony admired a woman who could function on several levels at the same time, and one who didn’t need to be the center of attention. Everything about Mary Judith Kendall appealed to Anthony Corbett. He had his fingers crossed—well, mentally at any rate.

  Then last night at the community center dance, they’d made their first move—they’d drawn Mary away from the family to a dark corner and dared to kiss her.

  Just that easily, Anthony Corbett found himself addicted.

  “Yes.” Anthony had turned himself slightly so they could have this conversation face to face. “I can’t stop thinking about her, about the taste of her and the more I think about sharing her… If we can woo her, that is.”

  Toby grinned. “She is a bit prickly at times. I like that about her.”

  Anthony laughed out loud. “Me, too, partner. Me, too.”

  “You realize of course that Aunt Samantha is going to know that we’re looking at her after supper tonight, right?”

  “I figured she would have known because of the conversations we’ve had with your uncles,” Anthony said.

  Toby shook his head. “No. They’d have kept those to themselves, because we spoke to them in confidence.”

  Anthony didn’t disabuse his partner of his naïve belief. Anthony’s mother and father had shared everything, and he’d bet the same could be said between the senior Kendalls of Lusty, Texas. “That’s good, then. So, I guess I’d better get us back to the office so we can get on our way to Lusty.”

  “Drive on, partner. Drive on.”

  * * * *

  Mary didn’t know if she could take any more family this day, but she had promised she’d come to Sunday supper. She’d be damned if she wimped out just because she felt a little put upon. And by put upon, she meant completely taken aback that her aunts and Grandma Kate knew her secret. And I’d been so careful!

  She’d been certain her secret was safe. After all, Thomas Northcliffe had copped a plea and was currently a resident of some mental health facility somewhere in the state of New York. She thought she’d been successful in keeping her name out of the papers. It was over and done with. Nothing to see here. Everybody move on, just move on please.

  Yes, she felt safe here in Lusty. That didn’t mean she wanted her soul laid bare and her secret passed around as a topic of conversation as if it had been served up on a platter to be the subject of jabs by the very large Kendall clan seated here for supper.

  And there were a hell of a lot of people sitting at the table tonight, too. Because she couldn’t not, Mary had counted. In all, twenty-four Kendalls from Lusty,
Wyoming, and from New York had been seated. Not seated at this table but at another smaller table in this very large dining room were six children, aged six to fourteen. There were giggles and a few other sounds reaching them, and of course, every few minutes one of them needed a quick hug or conference with Grandma Sam.

  Mary wasn’t the sole representative of the Empire State tonight, either. Her first cousins Rich, Iris, and Donny were sitting across from her. Well, their cute one-year-old, Blake, was directly across from her, and she’d found herself actually pleased about that even after having spent a couple of minutes holding him earlier at the Big House.

  Grandpa Noah was present, and Aunt Samantha had seated him at the foot of the table. On either side of him were two of his grandsons—Sean and Tobias, who everyone called Toby. Next to Toby was his best friend and cop partner, Anthony Corbett. Anthony had apparently been a friend of the families for a very long time.

  He's more than a friend when he calls Kate Benedict Grandma Kate. Not to mention that kiss he laid on me last night.

  Right. Let’s not mention that. Let’s not even think of that.

  Mary proceeded as if indeed that kiss—she slid a quick mental glance at Toby—those kisses had never taken place. As if she had not attended the dance, period. She brought all her thoughts back to the moment.

  This was the second or third time the two had been to Sunday supper. She liked the look of them, but more, she appreciated the intelligence they displayed as they chatted. Today, as they’d gathered for a drink before supper, she’d been lured into a conversation with the pair…and right at the moment, what she recalled most about that was the way Toby’s devil-grin, which made his obsidian eyes seem even darker, had pulled at her, drawing her in. And then the way Anthony’s searing blue gaze had looked right into her as if he could reach into her soul. They were dark and light and, together, made a sexy, magnetic one-two punch of sinful distraction. A warning bell sounded in her head. She should have recalled the conversation first, not their looks or how they tickled her lady bits. This was not good, not good at all.