Lucky Stars (61 page)

Therefore, there should not be a knock on the goddamned door.

He focussed on Belle’s face just as she noted distractedly and with disappointment, “But
it’s
Sunday.”

“Yes, love, it’s Sunday and unfortunately before we get adventurous, I’m going to need to commit homicide,” he ground out and only felt slightly better when he heard her adorable, startled giggle.

He rolled her off him, flicked the covers over her, slid out of bed and snatched up his jeans. Stalking to the bathroom, he quickly dealt with the condom, something which he and Belle were successfully experimenting with in order to enjoy it as part of sex. Something which he’d be glad to dispense with once she was safely on the pill.

He tugged his jeans on as he walked out into the landing, both of his dogs circling to him and the top of the stairs and back again as he moved.

He prowled down the stairs, unlocked the door and pulled it open to scowl at Mickey Dempsey who was standing at the top of Belle’s steps.

“I see Olive failed to inform you of this,” he clipped instantly upon catching the man’s eyes, “but Sundays Belle and I are not disturbed for
any
reason. I’ll deal with this omission directly with Olive later. I’ll deal with you now by telling you to hold whatever it is until tomorrow.”

Then without another word or allowing Dempsey to utter one, he stepped back and started to slam the door but Dempsey’s hand shot out and caught it.

“You’ll want to hear this,” he stated.

“Is the world ending?” Jack asked and he could see Dempsey fighting a knowing smile.

Through it, he answered, “No.”

“Then I don’t want to hear it,” Jack returned and put pressure on the door but Dempsey moved into the frame, blocking its closure with his shoulder.

“Not kidding, Bennett, you’ll want to hear this,” he said quietly and with not a small amount of gravity.

“Give me a hint,” Jack bit off.

“The third soul is not reincarnated in Cole.” He paused and held Jack’s eyes as he finished. “Caleb Caldwell is reincarnated in your brother.”

Jack felt his chest get tight just as he heard Belle say softly from the top of the stairs, “Oh my goodness gracious.”

He looked to his feet, clenched his teeth, felt a muscle tick in his cheek then he looked to Dempsey and stepped back.

“Come in, stay down here, thirty seconds,” he ordered. “Only then can you come up.”

Without waiting to see if Dempsey agreed, he turned, ducked his head in order not to give himself a concussion on the low hanging ceiling and, once he cleared the ceiling, took the stairs two at a time.

Belle was at the top wearing a becoming nightgown (another one of her own, something he learned recently after asking was all she ever wore) and looking astonished.

“That man, Jack,” she whispered as she lifted a hand and rested it on his chest, “I’ve seen that man.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jack replied. “That’s Mickey Dempsey. I told you I recruited his assistance after he wrote the article about Calvin Cole. He watched us and thus, I would assume, you.”

Her eyes grew unfocussed for a moment as she whispered, “Oh,” then they focussed on him and she stated, “Well, that explains that.”

It was lucky she was so endearing or he’d be even more pissed at that moment than he was. Instead, he was only mildly pissed and therefore he could gentle his voice when he asked her, “Now, I need you to get dressed and make coffee. Can you do that for me, poppet?”

She nodded. “Of course, Jack, I make coffee every day.” She paused then finished, sounding somewhat disgruntled as if she missed having the chore of making coffee, “Or I used to before I moved in with you and started to get waited on hand and foot.”

He was surprised at that juncture to find
himself
fighting back a smile.

She was blossoming and it wasn’t happening slowly. She trusted him. She trusted his love. She trusted in their future. And she knew he’d keep her safe. So he had the best of both because he had his cute, sweet, imperfectly perfect Belle and he had the Belle she gave him when he flipped on her switch.

Instead of smiling, he dipped his head, touched his mouth to hers, followed her to the bedroom, closed the door behind them and as she moved around getting dressed, he pulled on a long-sleeved, black t-shirt.

Dressed, he walked out, closed the door again and saw
Gretl
sitting outside the door.

Baron was sitting in the living room where he found Dempsey.

“Beautiful dogs,” Dempsey muttered.

Jack made no comment about his dogs.

Instead, he said, “Belle’s going to make coffee in a minute. But you’re going to explain now.”

Dempsey grinned. “I could use some coffee.”

Jack’s head cocked to the side. “Did you miss the ‘now’ part?”

“Right,” Dempsey muttered, moved to the window, glanced out over the rooftops to the obstructed but nonetheless lovely view Belle had of the sea then he turned back to Jack and crossed his arms on his chest. “This legend, Bennett, Addison, Caldwell, the children, the murders, it’s very well-known.”

“You disturbed my Sunday with Belle to tell me something I’ve known since I could process thought?” Jack asked, losing patience.

“What I mean is
,
it’s known widely. St. Ives.
Penzance.
Land’s End.
Falmouth.
Even as far as
Newquay
.”

Dempsey had covered a great deal of ground in the last few days.

He still was not telling Jack something he didn’t already know.

“It’s legend,” Jack agreed.
“Legend with over two hundred years to travel widely.
It’s known beyond
Newquay
, Dempsey. It’s written about in books. This doesn’t explain why you think Miles is Caldwell reincarnated.”

They heard the bedroom door open. Dempsey’s torso shifted to the side to catch a look out the door of the living room to Belle moving through the landing thus Jack’s body shifted to block his view.

Dempsey’s eyes shot to Jack and the grin came back.

“Protective,” he muttered.

“You’ll meet her soon enough,” Jack returned then went on. “And you’ve investigated her. If she was yours, you’d be the same bloody way. Now, focus. What did you find?”

“Ghost tale,” Dempsey got to the matter at hand, “told around campfires.
Kids telling it to scare the hell out of other kids.”

“Dempsey,” Jack warned low.

“For centuries, Bennett,” Dempsey returned.
“A shocking story, heartbreaking, brutal.
So much so, there are not one but
three
local historians who’ve made it the focus of their field of study. And not only that, it was shocking, heartbreaking and brutal back in the day. It stunned local residents. Joshua and Brenna Bennett were popular, Brenna especially. She was adored. Her murder marked the locals.
The fact that her children were taken made it worse.
So there’s a good deal these historians could study. And they shared it all with me.”

“Explain,” Jack demanded.

“Diaries of local residents, letters
kept,
archives of constabulary records. I haven’t had time to go through it all thoroughly but the primary theme bled through almost immediately,” Dempsey answered.

“And that theme would be?” Jack prompted when Dempsey didn’t go on.

“Bennett and Caldwell had a lifelong feud,” Dempsey replied and Jack felt his body get tight.

Dempsey continued.

“It was not private. It played out very publicly and started when they were young. It followed them into adulthood and business. Caldwell was not well-liked and, the story goes, this was because he was a cheat and a poor loser. Further, although Caldwell was not a peasant, not common, his family didn’t have the kind of money the Bennett family had, still, he was ambitious. And most of that ambition was centred
around
besting Bennett. Unfortunately, Bennett was richer, smarter and better looking than him and always won. Caldwell didn’t like this. From what I read, as boys even to young men, Bennett participated in these various contests, whatever they were and, in the end, they included the pursuit of women. However, as Bennett matured and turned his mind to the family business, he lost interest in Caldwell and his competitions. In fact, Bennett was often in London and not in Cornwall at all. That said
,
it was widely believed that Caldwell still smarted that the games ended before he could best Bennett at least once.”

As engrossed in the story as he was disturbed by it and its further similarities to his own life, Jack still heard Belle moving about the house so he lifted a hand. Dempsey fell silent and his eyes cut to the door.

Jack turned to see Belle standing there, looking curious and tentative, her gaze on Dempsey. She was wearing jeans so faded they were nearly white and had a frayed split in one knee. She was also wearing a white slouchy sweater that was loose-woven and had a wide neck so he could see her white vest at her shoulders and through the weave. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail but tendrils had escaped and framed her face. Even nearly first thing in the morning without makeup, she looked just as casually chic and adorably charming as she actually was.

She also, fortunately and unfortunately, looked like she’d just enjoyed a rather pleasurable orgasm. Jack liked that the results of their lovemaking lasted some time for Belle.

No, he loved it.

Though, as usual, he wasn’t keen on sharing it.

Without a choice, he extended an arm her way and called softly, “Come in, poppet, meet Mickey Dempsey.”

Her eyes came to him, she gave him her small smile then she walked straight to him. She fitted herself tight to his side as his arm curled around her shoulders and hers around his waist but she leaned forward and extended her other hand to Dempsey who took it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Dempsey,” she said softly in her musical voice.

“Mickey,” he corrected.
“And nice to meet you too, Ms. Abbot.”

She awarded Dempsey one of her small smiles. It was smaller than the ones she gave Jack but it was something and that something was something Dempsey liked. Jack saw it immediately as Dempsey’s gaze grew captivated.

“And please,” Belle continued, “call me Belle.”

“Belle,” Dempsey murmured and he still hadn’t let her hand go.

“Perhaps we can move forward with what you have to share so Belle and I can get on with our Sunday,” Jack suggested pointedly, Belle pulled her hand from Dempsey’s grip and Dempsey grinned at him. Jack looked down at Belle. “I explained I’d spoken with Mr. Dempsey and what I asked him to do,” he reminded her of the conversation they’d had days before and he did this to share with Dempsey that Belle was aware of the situation.

She nodded up to Jack then to Dempsey then she informed them, “Coffee should be ready in a few minutes.”

Jack had no intention of sharing coffee with Mickey Dempsey. He wasn’t even going to ask him to sit down.

His blossoming Belle, however, had other ideas.

“Please, sit, Mickey,” she offered, throwing her arm out to the couch.

There were times, Jack thought, when meek, mild and shy worked in his favour in regards to Belle. This would have been one of them.

Dempsey smiled and sat on the couch. Again with no choice, Jack took an armchair and was slightly appeased when Belle perched on the arm in the perfect position for him to wrap an arm around her hips. Therefore he did this without delay.

“Sorry to say,” Belle put in, “but I was eavesdropping. Small house, hard not to do,” she told Dempsey.

“What he says does affect you, my love, and it is your house,” Jack pointed out.

She looked down at him and whispered, “Right, of course.”

Jack gave her hips a squeeze and looked back to Dempsey. “Why don’t we continue?”

Dempsey nodded and did just that.

“As I was saying, although Bennett moved on, Caldwell did not. So, when Brenna Addison saved that child from drowning –”

Jack’s arm got tight around Belle’s hips even as he leaned slightly forward and whispered, “What?” at the same time Belle whispered, “Oh my goodness gracious.”

Dempsey’s brow furrowed. “Brenna saved a child from drowning. She nearly drowned herself doing it. It was one of the reasons she was so beloved. Didn’t you know that?”

Jack shook his head. “I paid little attention to the legend.”

“I hadn’t heard that either,” Belle said softly.

“I know you two are aware of the similarities in their story to yours, of course. But I thought you knew all of it. And all of it is near to identical to your own.
Including Caldwell pursuing Brenna because of her beauty and popularity but also in order to win her in an effort to best Bennett.
He made it clear after drinking heavily and bragging in pubs that he was keen to show Bennett his prize.
That prize being Brenna.”
Dempsey’s eyes moved to Jack. “I’m relatively certain this sounds familiar.”

“It does, indeed,” Jack
agreed,
his voice low and annoyed but he wasn’t annoyed.