Free With Deadly Intent by Louise Hendricksen Page B

him. “Would a woman do a thing like that?”
    She put her arm around his waist. “That's what Simon and I hope to find out.” She
     half-led him toward the path. “Let's go up to the house. Simon wants to talk to you.”
    When they reached the garden, Oren stopped. “Send Simon out. I'd rather talk to him
     alone.”
    She nodded. “I'll go tell him.” Inside, she found her father and Simon in deep
     conversation.
    B.J. smiled at her. “You certainly brought me a nice surprise. Simon and I have been
     having a rare old chat.” He drew her down beside him in the corner of the couch.
    She returned his smile. “I'll bet. Did Simon get a word in edgewise?”
    He chuckled and put his arm around her. “Oh, I ran down once or twice and he leaped into
     the breach. He wants to do an article on me for his magazine. Can you tie that?”
    She met Simon's gaze with a hostile one of her own. “When did you get that idea?”
    Simon grinned. “After the twelfth story. Dr.—” He glanced at her father. “Uh ... B.J.
     could make a fortune on the lecture circuit.”
    â€œNo way, Simon. It's my work that's interesting, not me. Without it, I'd have nothing to
     say.”
    Amy narrowed her eyes and continued her scrutiny of Simon. He didn't care about Oren—or
     her father—all he wanted was a story. “Oren's waiting in the garden,” she snapped, and
     ignored the puzzled looks the two men gave her.
    Simon struggled upward, adjusted his crutches, and left the room. B.J. regarded her with
     raised eyebrows. “Something eating you?”
    She sat a little taller. “Not a damned thing.” He continued to study her with a worried
     expression. To avoid the questions she knew he'd start asking any minute, she went to
     the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and observed Oren and Simon's meeting from
     the window.
    The men shook hands and settled themselves on a wrought iron bench. Five minutes later,
     Oren got up and started to pace. Simon made calming gestures, but as the conversation
     continued both men began to scowl and use their arms. Once, Simon shouted and pounded
     his fist into the palm of his hand.
    Afraid they'd see her, she took her coffee into the living room and told her father what
     they'd found in Dr. Tambor's trash.
    â€œGood Lord, don't tell Calder until you've got something more concrete,” B.J. said.
     “Tom'll see you don't come within a mile of this case if you start rocking his boat.”
    â€œI won't rush things.” She set her cup on the oak serving cart her father had brought in
     for Simon. “According to Simon, Elise used to have some very expensive jewelry. If Oren
     says she still has it, we'll have to let Tom know. This wouldn't be the first time
     robbery has led to murder.”
    â€œRight. I'll check it out with—” B.J.'s words were drowned out as the kitchen door
     slammed, rattling the windows.
    Simon's crutches hit the floor in hard, vicious thuds as he crossed the kitchen. He came
     into the room where they sat and turned to face them. The change in his appearance made
     her shrink back. His eyes were blazing, his face pinched and hard-set. “I'm going to
     Montana,” he said, and started for the front door.
Six
    B.J. got to his feet. “Whoa there, boy. No sense rushing. The next ferry doesn't leave
     until evening.”
    Simon stopped so suddenly he nearly fell. “Damn, I forgot about that.”
    B.J. put a hand on his shoulder. “It takes a little getting used to. After awhile you
     learn it's something us gun jumpers need. Makes us think before we leap.”
    Amy heard a slight sound and turned to see Oren sagged against the door jam. A grayish
     pallor, covered his features, and he looked as if he might collapse any minute.
    She hurried to his side. “Dad, see if you can find some brandy, will you?” She took
     Oren's arm.