Icecapade (7 page)

“The generator in the greenhouse has gone out and the plants are freezing. Merry Christmas!”

Valspar added, catching sight of Robert.

Robert raised a hand in greeting.

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“Will you come?” Valspar’s focus returned to Noel. “Please?”

Noel swallowed the unChristmassy answer on the tip of his tongue. “Of course.”

“Bless you.”

“I’ll follow you over.”

Valspar nodded and bustled back to her van.

Noel closed the door and went to find his field jacket where he’d left it in the bedroom.

“This won’t take long. Why don’t you have a bath,” he told Robert, who was watching him from the bedroom doorway.

“That’s what you said the last time. And, by the way, I’m starting to take this preoccupation with my hygiene personally.”

Noel spluttered a laugh, shouldering into his jacket. “I’d kill for a hot bath right now. And a nap.”

“You do look tired.” Robert’s scrutiny seemed less clinical than before. “You’re not going to try to climb anything are you?”

“No. God no.” Noel felt his pockets for his gloves and scarf. “That damned generator goes out at least once every six months or so. But it’s usually easy to repair.”

“Somehow I never figured you for the good neighbor type.” Robert picked up his own coat from the rocking chair by the window.

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“That’s why you should hang around a while.

Get to know me.” Noel watched Robert pull on his coat.

Robert raised his brows. “Save you the price of a long distance phone call this year?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Robert smiled faintly.

***

“Why
did
you start leaving those messages?”

Robert asked once they were on their way down the snowy lane toward the woods where Valspar lived.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Robert made a derisive sound.

“It’s the truth. What other reason would I have?”

Robert didn’t reply.

“Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“No, I guess not.”

Staring out the side window, Robert said,

“Even if I had…wanted to talk to you, you must have realized it was impossible.” There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I should have turned those calls over to the Bureau.”

“You didn’t?”

“I was enough of a laughing stock as it was.”

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It was a few seconds before Noel could trust his voice. “I didn’t want you to forget me.”

“What?”

“I knew we couldn’t—that there wasn’t a way for us to—but I didn’t want you to forget me,” he admitted. “It sounds childish. I guess it was. I wanted your attention.”

Robert was silent so long Noel didn’t think he would answer. “It would be hard to forget you when you made me a character in your books.”

Noel swallowed. “I was trying to be funny.”

“Yep, I could see that.”

“I wasn’t trying to—” Noel said helplessly,

“Robert, I don’t know how to do this stuff. I never learned. I haven’t had a lot of relationships.”

“You haven’t had any that I can find,” Robert said coolly. “Not since adulthood. You don’t have relationships. Hell, you don’t even have affairs.

You have a history of paying for sex, high-class prostitutes for the most part, and never the same partner twice in a row.”

Noel could find no reply. He felt numb hearing the pathetic truth laid out in such chilly, impersonal terms. A good and timely reminder that for Robert, he was, and probably always would be, merely a case. A cold case. The one that got away.

If he was lucky.

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They had reached Valspar’s. Noel turned in through the white gate festooned with wreaths and painted metal angels playing an assortment of musical instruments.

They parked and got out, Noel leading the way around the sides of the pink hexagonal-shaped house to the greenhouse in back. Through the glass they could see Valspar inside the greenhouse fussing over plants. She waved to them.

Noel went to the generator, kneeling in the snow and checking the fuel levels.

Valspar came around the greenhouse to join them. “How do you know Noel?” she asked Robert.

“We go way back.”

“Oh, how nice. And you’re spending

Christmas? I always try to get Noel to come here, but you know how he is.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Very fond of his own home and hearth. But no one should be alone on the holidays.”

“No.”

Noel scowled at the front panel of the generator and bit back all the brutal things he’d have liked to tell Robert. So Robert thought he knew him? Based on one night and a lot of police reports? And on that meager information he was daring to judge Noel? Robert didn’t have a fucking clue.

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He didn’t say any of it, though. He listened to Robert’s single terse response to the idea of spending Christmas alone, and he choked it all down. Robert was alone this Christmas and he was in pain, whether he would admit it or not, and if it made him feel better to needle Noel, to get his jabs in, fine.

Noel probably owed him that much.

He gave the generator an experimental crank. It turned over but, after a promising growl, died.

“It’ll crank but it won’t start?” he said to Velspar.

“That’s right. That’s a new one, isn’t it? You’ve practically rebuilt it by now.”

“Mm.”

“Dirty air filter?” suggested Robert. “Dirty spark plugs? Low oil?”

“It’s not the oil. I checked.” Noel inspected the cables and then the battery posts. “These are corroded.” To Velspar, he said, “Can you bring me a jug of warm water mixed with baking soda?”

“How much baking soda?”

“I’ll go with you,” Robert said.

He departed with Velspar, making

noncommittal replies to her cheerful chatter about how absolutely brilliant Noel was with wiring and electronics. No doubt Robert was hoping to hear something incriminating. Something that would 76

Icecapade

allow him to lock Noel up so that he could throw away the key and forget about him.

Noel scraped at the fuzzy pale gunk over the metal posts, but eventually he stopped and sat down in the snow. He could rarely remember feeling this tired and let down. To think that, for a moment there this morning, it had looked like it was going to be the best Christmas ever. He could almost smile at his naïveté now.

“Are you falling asleep?” Robert’s voice came from overhead.

Noel sat up quickly. “No.”

“I don’t recommend sitting in snow for any length of time.”

“I didn’t think it would be a length of time.”

He got to his knees, took the plastic jug, and began pouring it carefully over the corroded posts.

The acid fizzed and dissolved away in a gray stream.

“I offered to read Robert’s palm, but I think he’s shy.” Valspar sounded out of breath as she joined them. She was holding a large blue and gold festively wrapped parcel.

“Is he?” Noel gave the generator a hard crank.

The engine coughed, snarled, and caught. They backed away from the deafening roar as the generator got back to work keeping Valspar’s herbs and flowers warm.

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“Praise the powers that be,” Velspar exclaimed.

“And you, too, Noel.”

He smiled tiredly.

“Would you like to come in for some eggnog?”

Even if he hadn’t been standing there in wet jeans and with less than three hours sleep, Noel wouldn’t have been up to hearing Valspar sing his praises to Robert’s stony face. “We’ve got to get back.”

“In that case, Merry Christmas!” Velspar handed him the wrapped parcel. “It’s the usual. A jar of my crabapple preserves.”

She walked them back to the car, talking all the while. As Noel opened the Boxster’s door, she gave him a brilliant smile. “Even without doing Robert’s reading, I can tell that you’re both going to be very happy. If you could only
see
your auras!”

Chapter Six

When they reached Blackbird Farm, Noel broke the silence that had persisted on the short drive home. “I’m going to have a shower. Why don’t you fix yourself a drink?” He handed Robert the wrapped jar of preserves and pointed him toward the drinks cabinet. “Pour me one as well.”

A hot shower, a shave and clean clothes made a world of difference. Noel was still tired, still short on sleep, but his natural optimism began to reassert itself. He hadn’t dreamed that comment on the knoll. Robert wanted him. He might not
like
Noel but, if ten years later he was still looking forward to taking his turn in bed, Robert did feel some connection.

He found Robert in the kitchen doing the breakfast dishes.

Robert glanced up, his gaze lingered for a moment. He nodded to Noel’s drink on the table.

“Thanks.” Noel sat down, glanced idly at the stack of old photos, studied Robert’s broad shoulders, the long, muscular line of his back, and his narrow hips. “If you want a shower, I can find Josh Lanyon

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a pair of sweats that’ll probably fit you and I’ll put your clothes through the washer.”

Robert rinsed the last soapy mug and placed it in the basket. He leaned against the sink and folded his arms.

“Here’s the way I see it. Basically you were forced to retire. If your balance hadn’t been affected, you’d still be out there robbing people.”

Clearly Robert was still wrestling with this. He sounded as though he and Noel were continuing an ongoing conversation. In a funny way it gave Noel hope. Robert wouldn’t be struggling with this if it didn’t matter to him.

“No. I was already planning to get out.”

“That’s easy to say.”

“It’s the truth.”

When Robert didn’t reply, Noel said, “I’m not trying to pretend it was a moral decision because I don’t regret anything I did. I didn’t steal from anyone who couldn’t
well
afford it. And I never used violence. I never even carried a weapon.”

The lines of Robert’s face grew grim once more. “I know all about the romantic mythology of the cat burglar. How cat burglars are supposed to rely on their wits and imagination instead of violence, how they only prey on the super rich and their insurance companies. You still broke into people’s homes. You still took what didn’t belong to you. You know that.”

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“I know that.”

“And you justify that…how?”

There was no justification. Oh, Noel could have explained about growing up in a home where crime was the family business—and had been for generations—where cat burglary was viewed as typical of something a sissy youngest son who watched too many movies
would
come up with.

He could have explained but it would have sounded like an excuse, and he didn’t make excuses. He was what he was—and considering what he’d come from, that wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was pretty amazing. In every sense, Noel was a self-made man, and knowing firsthand how little he’d had to work with, he was proud of that man.

But that man was still one of the bad guys—

even if an ex-bad guy—in the eyes of Special Agent Robert Cuffe. That was the way it was.

“No answer?” Robert prodded curiously.

Noel shrugged. “I’m not proud of being a thief.

I’m proud I never hurt anyone—except maybe in their tender insurance policies.”

“You were a predator. You damaged people, left them feeling violated and afraid.”

Noel’s fingers tightened around the crystal highball glass. “You want to talk about abuse?

About damage? About feeling violated? Try growing up —” He caught it back, forced himself to smile. He took a sip of his drink and blinked.

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Seven and Seven. Maybe he was a fool, but didn’t it mean something that Robert still remembered what he drank?

He said more calmly, “Let’s say it took me a while to learn I had other options.”

“I know about your ties to the Chernov Russian crime family. You’re Nicholas Chernov’s youngest son. The black sheep of the family.”

Noel didn’t move a muscle. That was the only reason he didn’t drop his glass.

“I’m not quite as stupid as you think I am.”

Someone who seemed to be speaking on Noel’s behalf said, “I don’t think you’re stupid. I never did.”

Robert’s smile was polite. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. There’s no question my stupidity permitted you to slip away with the Boaz diamond ring.”

“Ego maybe,” Noel acknowledged. He liked Robert far too much to try and flatter him with polite fictions. “You did underestimate me.”

“I did. Yeah.” Robert pushed away from the sink and brought his drink over to the table. He sat down across from Noel. “I hadn’t done my homework then. But I’ve devoted a lot of time and attention to you over the years, Noel, and I think I know you about as well as any man can know another.”

“I’m flattered.”

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“Don’t be. I had a lot of time on my hands after I was relocated to Wisconsin.”

Noel cleared his throat. “I bet.”

“So your story is you’d have retired even if you hadn’t been injured?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Why would you have? You liked the money and you sure as hell liked the rush.”

“Because I’m not stupid either and I knew my number was coming up.” Noel added wryly,

“True, I didn’t expect my luck to run out on a mountain in the French Pyrenees.”

Robert’s lips tightened. He looked down at his drink. “It
is
ironic given the balconies and window ledges you scaled.”

“I wanted to be out by the time I was thirty.

That was always my plan. I’d been making investments—good, solid, legal investments—the whole time I was working. I didn’t want to be climbing fire escapes when I was thirty, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. I wanted…a life. A quiet, normal life.”

Robert made that spluttery sound. “And you decided the way to get that was cat burglary? You never considered, oh, I don’t know. Investment banking?”

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