Always Love a Villain on San Juan Island (41 page)

“Why'd you have to kidnap Susanna, Toni?” Tears were welling from under Larry's eyelids. “If you could have loved me as I loved you, I'd have shared everything with you.” Her pale face exaggerated the beauty of her shimmering gray eyes. “My life. And certainly the Dream Visualizer. You could have had it all.”

A smile took Toni's lips. “Is it too late, Larry?”

“You took Susanna from me. All else could be forgiven. You might have returned her to me, or you might not. Even if you had, she would have been short one finger. It's much too late, Toni.”

Sheriff Coltrane stepped between them. “Ms. deBourg, you're under arrest.”

The man, his jacket showing the bulge of a shoulder holster, and the woman took her by the elbows. Coltrane introduced them as FBI. “They'll be taking charge, Ms. deBourg. I have no jurisdiction in kidnapping cases.”

Celeste-Antoinette deBourg dropped her gaze. “I'm sorry, Larry.”

“It doesn't help, Toni.” His head shook. “But for what it's worth, so am I.”

PETER LANGLEY, NOEL
could confirm, was a wonderful cook. While waiting for the Sheriff, Noel had phoned Peter to give him the headlines of what had happened. And to ask if he could stay with Peter a second night. Of course. And Noel and Kyra had to have dinner with him tonight. Happy to. They both still felt a little shaky.

In less than five hours Peter had organized a three-course meal. Rich cold vichyssoise topped with chives from Peter's garden. Rack of lamb rare to perfection, new potatoes and beans also from the garden. And finally an anise-flavored crème caramel. Together with two bottles of a deep-red Spanish Garnacha. Each taste and all effort deeply complimented by Kyra and Noel.

Over dinner they filled in details. The kidnapper with the knife, a man named LeJeune, had panicked at the extent of the wound, Kyra having shot him in the knee—

Noel interrupted. “I still can't get over the precision of that shot, Kyra. You could've hit Susanna.”

“No, he was stupid. Or maybe just clumsy.” She shivered a little. “He gave me a large target.”

“Still—”

“I've been practicing, Noel. Unlike some others.” She smiled.

“Okay, okay.”

“So,” Kyra continued, “this LeJeune thought he was going to bleed to death or at least never walk again unless he had immediate medical attention. I told him he was figuring right, but I'd only help him if he told me all he knew about the kidnapping. So he did. It wasn't much; if he was telling the truth, he didn't know a lot. Except who he worked for, and he gave us the name of Dr. deBourg. Man, that was a shocker.”

Noel picked up the thread. “By this time Sheriff Coltrane had arrived at the green house, and the Undersheriff too, and two ambulances. The paramedics took over with the two men and we explained that LeJeune had stabbed St.-Ange and St.-Ange had helped Susanna escape. So they weren't in the same league and they shouldn't be near each other.”

“What's going to happen to St.-Ange?” Peter asked.

“He's in the hospital. Larry immediately contacted his lawyer, who's sent him to a good criminal defense lawyer. The Undersheriff said he'd give me a call if they have any further news.” Noel smiled, mostly to himself. “The Sheriff's office'll get good press for finding Susanna's kidnapper.”

“I wonder what kind of defense they'll come up with for LeJeune,” said Peter.

“And we told Coltrane and Taunton about the relationship between deBourg and Susanna's father, Larry Rossini.”

Peter shook his head. “I find that so hard to believe. Larry admitted to me he was in love with her. I wonder if she loved him.”

“A black widow,” muttered Kyra.

“Kidnap a guy's daughter, plan to mutilate her, and be in love with him? Dubious,” Noel spat.

“Anyway, the Sheriff contacted Larry, told him about deBourg. He explained she'd be flying off this evening for Geneva. So the Sheriff commandeered a small plane—a Beech F33A Straight Tail, real fancy, he said—plus its owner, who flew them to Sea-Tac—took twenty-five minutes. And he brought the FBI in and they all caught up with the woman just as she was about to board.”

“So the three together had planned the kidnap?”

“Except Susanna says Fredric St.-Ange was tricked in. And had dropped out of the game by the second week she was in the house.”

“Why didn't he let her go then?”

“Had to pick his time. He was scared of LeJeune.”

“And Susanna corroborates this?”

“Completely.”

“What a story.” Peter took the last bite of his crème caramel. “Glad you two are okay. Cognac, anyone?”

“I will happily accept,” said Noel. “It's been a full adrenalin-draining day.”

Peter got up, found glasses and the bottle.

“A few days,” said Kyra. “That fire wasn't much fun either.”

“It makes sense now,” Noel said. “How we could've thought someone threatened me and started a fire over a possible plagiarism case—not real speedy there.”

Back at the table, Peter poured them quarter snifters of Remy Martin. “When you brought Susanna back to Larry's house, how were they?” They clicked glasses. “To solving all your cases successfully.”

They sipped.

“Well, as you can guess, Larry looked overjoyed at having Susanna back, at the same time furious and more than that, deeply saddened at his foolishness with deBourg. He looked stricken. I believe he truly loved her.”

“Or,” said Peter, “so he thought.”

“Whichever. But he was determined to go with Coltrane to Sea-Tac. To identify her, he told Marc. He told me he had to see her one more time. To maybe break the spell, he said.”

Noel's phone rang. “Yes? . . . Oh hello, Charlie . . . Well that's good news . . . How long'll he be in? . . . Yeah, I understand . . . They've already booked him? . . . There's supposed to be a lawyer, Professor Rossini said . . . Oh, good . . . Even better . . . She's there now? . . . Yeah, I understand . . . What's that mean? . . . Well, let's hope he can get it . . . Thanks for letting me know . . . Talk to you.” He ended the call.

“Why didn't you put it on speakerphone?” asked an irritated Kyra.

“Didn't think.”

“What did he say?” She brought the cognac glass to her lips and sniffed.

“First, it looks like St.-Ange is going to be okay. The knife missed his lung and his heart by a quarter inch. He took two pints of blood; he'd lost a lot. No sense of how long he'll be in.”

“They've booked him?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“That didn't take long.”

“They're charging deBourg and LeJeune with kidnapping and conspiracy to steal industrial secrets. The judge got to hear what Susanna had to say and they're not charging St.-Ange with anything yet—there'll be some sort of hearing where she can state under oath what happened. The lawyer told Susanna he'd try for malicious mischief, third degree.”

Peter asked, “What's that?”

“Charlie says it's used mainly for petty crimes, like theft of property under two thousand dollars.”

“Huh?” said Kyra. “Susanna's worth less than two thousand bucks?”

“Property,” said Noel. “She's nobody's property. St.-Ange conspired to steal Larry's algorithms.”

“That's all they're worth?”

“They're worth the paper they're written on, less than two thousand in value. They only take on value when Larry handles them. So Charlie said.” A sip of cognac.

“What,” Kyra asked, “is the punishment for malicious mischief, third degree?”

“Charlie wasn't sure. A fine, he figured, and community work.”

“Let's hope.”

They sat in silence for some seconds, till Kyra announced, “Well, I'm exhausted. Can you drive me to the inn, Noel?”

“Of course.” Only a couple of blocks away. He stood and drained the last of his cognac. “Back soon, Peter.”

“Good,” said Peter.

Noel and Kyra got into the Honda and drove off. Noel said, “You'll be heading back to Bellingham first thing tomorrow, I suppose.”

“No job to keep me here.”

“Right. For me there's only one ferry out, early, so I won't see you tomorrow.”

“Looks like.” She sat back and closed her eyes. “It was a good case.”

“Sometimes it's good to prove a certain person did
not
commit a crime.”

He stopped the car in front of Friday Harbor House. They sat in silence for a half minute or more, then spoke at the same moment: “I need—” said Kyra, and Noel, “I should—”

“You first,” he said.

“Okay.” She turned to him and took his arm gently with two hands. In the dim light from the inn, her eyes looked damp. “When I get to Bellingham tomorrow I'm going to contact the Institute. I'm ready to go ahead. I will ask them to set me up with everything I need to get pregnant.”

“You've decided. You're absolutely certain?”

“Entirely.”

“Okay.” He put his free hand over one of hers.

“Okay what?”

“Okay I'll help you. I'll be there for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“What you've been asking me for—for it feels like forever now. I am willing to be the father of this child.” He felt her hands squeezing his arm.

“Noel—”

“I
want
to be the father of the child.”

Her grip loosened and she slumped down in the seat. After seconds of silence, she said, her voice small, “You sure?”

“I'm sure.” In a brighter voice, “Especially if it's the only way to keep somebody else from being the father.”

She began to giggle. Then she slid toward him and grabbed him and held him tightly. Slowly he put his arms around her. “Now I have an even better reason for calling the Institute.”

At EST-K-Sum headquarters, a report that Madame deBourg's Veritec was no longer a possible seller of the Dream Visualizer reached Joseph Martin. Bad news. They'd have to deal with Rossini directly. It could become costly.

Noel entered Peter's house without knocking. Peter had cleared away the dishes and the leftover food—not much, Noel recalled—and refilled two cognac snifters. He'd dimmed the lamps. Light classical piano music tinkled from the speakers. He got up from the couch and waited for Noel to join him. He said, “An adventurous day.”

More than you can know, Noel thought but did not say. “And now?”

Peter stepped close and put his hand on Noel's hip. “My question for you.”

Tell him he felt the weight of the case? But what he mainly felt was the touch of Peter's hand. And suddenly, in truth, his sense of the dangers of the last few hours slipped from him. An honorable man stood in front of him. He put his hand on Peter's ribcage. “We've got a lot to learn. About each other.”

Peter drew Noel close and held him, their cheeks touching. “I'm looking forward.”