Finding Julian Page 8

Mr. Monroe scoffed. “Why are you staring at us like that, son?”

  Marlene crossed her arms and plopped down on the sofa. “What are you insinuating?”

  “Let’s stop this now,” Aunt Bev broke in. She rested her hands on my arms and peered into my eyes. “Julian, why didn’t you tell me about what Robert said to you?”

  I guessed that was the reason for the loud arguments we heard before.

  “It just sounded crazy at the time and he didn’t have proof. I guess I wanted to find a way to get out of my inheritance, that I wasn’t thinking much about anything else.”

  “Well, maybe if you’d said something sooner, he wouldn’t be dead now.” Marlene shot up from the sofa. She glared at me. “You’ve been nothing but an eye sore ever since you came and now you can’t even leave.”

  What the hell! How could I have known this was going to happen? This wasn’t my fault. Had my father not included me in his will in such a huge way, I wouldn’t even be here. I should’ve listened to my mom, put the house on the market and went home. Now, the lawyer who was supposed to help me sort everything out was dead, and I was stuck in the middle of it all.

  Damn it!

  “Look, the fact remains that Robert was killed. We have to keep calm.” Aunt Bev clasped my hands in hers. “Why don’t you go back to the guesthouse and lie down for a while? Claire will fix you lunch later.”

  My brows went up, remembering yesterday. I peered over at Mr. Monroe—who was wandering around the room in deep contemplation—just as the image of his inappropriate behavior with Claire burst in my head.

  I looked back at Aunt Bev and nodded. Then I made my way out of the living room, through the kitchen, and out the back door of the main house. I wouldn’t say anything. I’d keep my mouth shut and stay out of their business until I could find a way to get out of the inheritance.

  When I entered the guesthouse, Claire was dusting. She gave me an innocent look and I forced a smile in return.

  “Such a horrible thing, what happened to Mr. Cornwell, isn’t it?” she said softly.

  “Yeah, really horrible,” I said, walking past her towards the room where I was staying.

  Immediately after closing the door, I dropped down on the bed and rolled onto my side, going over the morning’s events.

  My cell phone buzzed in my purse and I glanced at the screen. It was Mom. I’d have to explain the situation, but that would only make her want to come to Narragansett.

  “Hey, Mom,” I answered in a flat tone.

  “You didn’t call me back, Jules. That prick of a landlord you had put your stuff outside the apartment. Good thing I stopped by after work to get them before some homeless person did. Anyway, did you talk to Mr. Cornwell?”

  I had to lie to keep her away until the whole thing was sorted out. “I did. But I have to wait until he takes care of some paperwork. It’s easier to communicate with him in person so I don’t have to end up making several trips back here.”

  She drew a long breath and I knew she fell for it. “Okay, Jules. Only a few more days. Call me when it’s all done, okay?”

  “I will, Mom. I promise.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next day, I got up and did laundry as well as made my own breakfast. Claire was going on a permanent strike where I was concerned. I didn’t want her doing anything for me.

  She appeared taken aback and sulked a bit when she arrived at the guesthouse and found me already eating at the table. Then she quickly turned her frown into a smile when Aunt Bev came down the stairs.

  “Good morning,” Claire greeted, walking around the island and settled her bag on the corner of the kitchen counter.

  “Good morning,” Aunt Bev and I said in one accord. She poured herself some of the coffee I made.

  Aunt Bev beamed at me in appreciation as she sat down. “Julian, I know you don’t really want to stay here any longer, especially after yesterday. But I truly hope you’ll continue helping me with that project for the time being. Maybe it’ll keep our minds off what happened?”

  She was right. I could use a little distraction.

  “Good,” she placed her coffee mug down and massaged her temple. “And as much as I don’t feel up to it, I know Cole would want me to go on.”

  Realizing there was more unsaid, I asked, “What is it?”

  She gazed out the window by the table. “There’s this dinner coming up at the Anawan Cliffs Country Club that Vanderson Publishing hosts every year. I’d like to showcase the magazine then.”

  “Oh,” I sank into the chair, taking in her body language. It was important for Aunt Bev to keep the family business going. She seemed determined on making her brother proud.

  So, here I was again, doing something to make someone else happy. “I’ll work on the project with you, Aunt Bev, don’t worry about it.”

  She patted my hands then sat up when Claire brought her breakfast over. Finishing up, I excused myself and went for a walk down on the beach.

  I took my slippers off and walked barefoot along the shore, rolling up my jeans as the water splashed on my legs. Lifting my head towards the sky, I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. The smell of salt, the whistling wind, seagulls crooning overheard, and waves crashing ashore gave me a sense of peace. This was a feeling I hadn’t experienced before in Manhattan. Suddenly, I welcomed the idea of staying in Narragansett, only because of this fleeting yet trance-like feeling of comfort.

  Sitting down on the sand, I brought my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them as I watched the waves. Much to my surprise, a body thrust up and out of the water. Seven. He glimpsed me and immediately started over.

  As he approached, Seven combed his hand through his soaking wet hair. His movements made my heart race. I noticed every drop of water that fell onto his shoulder and streamed down his muscular chest and well-toned abs. The very sight of him filled me with lust. I’d never experienced such a strong desire for any guy before. Not even Clyde.

  As he stood before me, his lips moved. I didn’t hear a sound, my thoughts lost in him. Only when cold droplets tumbled off his swim trunks onto my bare arms did I snap out of his seductive trance.

  “Wh-what?” I asked.

  Seven smirked, before he lowered himself to the ground, sitting mere inches from me. “Are you all right? You didn’t come out again yesterday.”

  “I kept dreaming about the gunshot, and seeing that bag with his body inside.”

  He crossed his wrists and stared at me, concern in his beautiful eyes. There was something else within them, possibly longing. I was usually too shy to look at a guy I was attracted to, but with Seven it was different. I wanted to drown myself within his gaze. Did he feel the same?

  “Julian,” he said my name so sweetly a tremor raced down my spine, intensifying my lust. “Is there someone waiting for you back in Manhattan, besides your mom?”

  That question again. I had no idea he was still thinking about that.

  Turning shy, I distracted my racing mind by digging my fingers into the sand. “No, there’s no one else.” I recovered the strength to peer into his eyes again, wanting to know his reason. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because—”

  “Ms. Rowell,” a firm voice interrupted Seven.

  We turned at the same time and looked up at the man casting a shadow over us.

  “Detective Walters?” I answered.

  I shot to my feet. Seven stood as well. Brushing the sand off my jeans, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Detective Walters looked at Seven then nodded in the direction of the house. “Mind if we talk alone?”

  Clenching his jaw, Seven touched my arm briefly before walking past the detective in the direction of the guesthouse.

  The detective brought his eyes back to me. “Let’s walk.”

  Silence dragged out a bit as we walked up to the lawn. The detective made me nervous. “So, what do you want to ask me?” I hurried him.

  He stuck his hands inside his pocke
ts. “Mrs. Vanderson already explained to me about the will. But what I’d like to know, Julian, is whether or not you knew Mr. Cornwell before coming to Narragansett.”

  I cringed. “No.” It infuriated me, hearing the implication in his tone. “I hadn’t met him before the day of my father’s funeral.”

  The detective openly observed my body language. He brought his brows together as he said, “Yes, about that. You seem really okay for someone who hadn’t known her father, Ms. Rowell. You even came to his funeral.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I bit down on my bottom lip. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just that not many people would have done that. They probably would’ve been too angry at the father who neglected them.”

  My reaction was very important to him. It either declared me a non-entity or a prime suspect. I understood his motives. He made perfect sense. My mother had even asked me the same thing.

  I parted my lips and repeated the words I said to her, “I didn’t want to regret it later on, and…” I looked away from him and up at the main house.

  “And?” Detective Walters prompted.

  “I wanted to fill the missing part of my life,” I concluded.

  He stood silent for a few seconds then confirmed once again, “You really didn’t know Mr. Cornwell before last Saturday?”

  I shook my head. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “I can see that.” Detective Walters slanted towards the main house. “Well, you should know we’ve found numerous photos of you inside his briefcase. It’s possible either Mr. Cornwell or your father had someone take pictures of you in Manhattan. Either way, I just wanted to cover all the bases. It’s still odd though, along with the paper he had in his hand when we found him.”

  “Detective Walters.” My words stopped him before he walked off.

  “Yes?”

  “How was Mr. Cornwell murdered?” I’d been curious but too spooked to ask.

  “A bullet to the head,” he stated. “The secretary, Ms. Vaughn, said there are some things missing from his office, and it was in quite disarray when I saw it so, possibly an armed robbery gone wrong. That kind of thing is rare around here.”

  He turned to leave. “Well, have a good day.”

  I hurried up beside him. “Maybe someone wanted it to look like a robbery?”

  Slowing down, Detective Walters gave me a sidelong gaze. “Looks like someone is watching too many cop shows. Whether or not it was, there’s not much evidence to point to any involvement of you or any other member of this family, or to anyone else for that matter. No finger prints—absolutely nothing.”

  I nodded then shifted the subject away from Mr. Cornwell. “What about my father?”

  “Your father?” Detective Walters raised his brows.

  I folded my arms. “I told you, Mr. Cornwell said he was murdered. I thought you’d look into it—”

  “Mrs. Vanderson said her husband was experiencing a lot of chest pain months prior. He died of a heart attack.”

  It was still unsettling for me. “How about an autopsy?”

  Detective Walters scoffed. “Aren’t you listening, Nancy Drew? There’s no evidence of foul play with your father so there’s no need for that. Only Mrs. Vanderson can request one anyway.”

  He walked up the side steps and around the main house. I stood in thought, considering all he’d said. No evidence to indicate my father was murdered. Armed robbery that went bad in Mr. Cornwell’s case.

  Shaking my head, I tittered and walked back to the guesthouse. Instead of playing detective, I should drop all of this and spend my time looking for another lawyer. I need to get my hands free of this place and all involved with it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the next two days, I helped Aunt Bev with her project. Together we came up with ideas, using reader feedback on how to boost the entertainment magazine and make it more appealing.

  Amid working with Aunt Bev at the Vanderson Publishing office in Newport, I managed to find another lawyer in Jamestown; Mr. Douglas. He offered me advice on how to contest the will. If I wanted to remove myself from it and turn my inheritance over to Mackenzie, it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with all the legal aspects surrounding it.

  Aunt Bev had a meeting with the sales department on Friday afternoon, so I decided to take a break at Dunkin Donuts across from the office.

  Sipping on my usual strawberry coolatta, I went over the forms Mr. Douglas provided me with. I wanted to have a clear understanding of the process.

  “Mind if I join you?” the raspy voice was familiar.

  Looking up, I saw it was indeed Gavin, his sea blue eyes brighter than ever. I really wasn’t in the mood for company, but I didn’t want to be rude.

  “Sure,” I said.

  Gavin rested his iced coffee on the table and sat down across from me. “What are you working on?”

  I gathered the papers together and set them aside. “Nothing important.”

  He drank some of his iced coffee and peered over the cup at me. Settling it back on the table, he eyed me with amazement, “You look so much like Mackenzie.”

  “We are sisters.”

  “Yes, but…” he trailed. “Mackenzie is much different though.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I sat back and asked, “How so?”

  Gavin folded his hands on top of the table. “Well for one, you seem to like isolating yourself. Mac loves attention. That’s all she wants.”

  “And who are you, Gavin?” I tilted my head to the side and studied him.

  Easing back, he took up his iced coffee for a sip. “I’m just me….” His eyes drifted away from mine, staring absently into nothingness. “I guess that’s not enough for her.” He sounded sad.

  “Are you okay?” I asked softly.

  Snapping out of whatever it was that distracted him before, a broad grin stretched across his face and Gavin morphed into a cheerful person. “So, are you going to the annual dinner at the country club in a few weeks?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t think I’ll be here that long.”

  He frowned. “Why not?”

  I plucked the papers off the table and stood. “I have to get back to my life in Manhattan. I’ve been putting it on hold for too long.”

  He stood as well, walking behind me out of Dunkin Donuts. “Is there someone you need to get back to?”

  That question was starting to annoy me.

  I slowed my steps and looked back at him. “Does there have to be someone for me to go back to? Why can’t I just like living in the city?”

  A sly grin appeared on his face. Gavin tossed the remainder of his iced coffee in a trash bin and inched closer to me.

  “Looks to me like you’re simply running away, Julian,” he whispered. “Maybe you actually like it here in Narragansett. I think you’re already starting to feel comfortable but trying hard to convince yourself otherwise.”

  I was about to dispute his remarks when Seven came up behind me. “What’s going on?”

  Spinning at the sound of suspicion in his voice, I stared at him for what seemed like a really long second before answering, “Nothing.”

  “We were just talking about the annual dinner,” Gavin piped in.

  Seven lit up with relief. “You’re staying for the dinner?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  His face dropped. “Why not?”

  “I’m…” the words refused to come out. I found it hard to look into his eyes and say I wasn’t going to stay in Narragansett till then.

  “I’m heading back to work.” Gavin excused himself.

  Seven glanced behind at him, watching as he turned the corner towards the printery. Then he brought his gaze back to me. He stuck one hand inside his jeans pocket and questioned me, “You were having lunch with him?” There was a pang of jealousy within his tone. It fascinated me.

  “No,” I quickly answered. “He just happened to come by while I was here.” It sounded like I was trying to c
onvince a boyfriend I wasn’t cheating.

  A gratified smile formed on his lips and he nodded approvingly. I started to walk past him back towards the office when Seven touched my elbow, stopping me. “Aunt Bev asked me to take you shopping.”

  “Shopping?” My brows went up. “That’s not necessary, I’m leaving soon—”

  “You’ve been saying that since the day we met,” he stifled back a laugh. “Come one, I’ll take you to get some clothes. You can’t keep wearing the same things over and over like this.”

  If I wasn’t too embarrassed about him noticing I didn’t have much to wear, I would have been thrilled about him noticing me at all. Clyde sure didn’t.

  Shaking my head, I came up with an excuse. “Aunt Bev probably still needs to go over some things with me.”

  “Aunt Bev isn’t in the office,” he clued me in. “She’s on her way to a location with our photographer to take some pictures.”

  Humph. I doubted taking pictures were really on the agenda for Aunt Bev and David.

  Feeling defeated, I agreed to let Seven take me shopping. It was a favorite hobby of mine that always livened up my day.

  He brought me to Isobel’s clothing store on Bellevue Avenue. I browsed the racks while he wandered over to the men’s section. Checking the tags, my eyes widened seeing they were way out of my price range. I only had a hundred and thirty dollars left in my purse and hardly enough in my bank account. I shouldn’t have let Seven convince me to get new clothes. I couldn’t afford a single thing.

  “See something you like?” He came over and stood beside me, eyeing the rack I was looking at.

  “No, let’s just go.” I made for the exit but he clutched my elbow.

  “Why? Everything in here looks like something you’d wear.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This stuff is all…” he waved his hand about, “simple. You’re a simple girl so I figured you’d like the clothes here.”

  He was learning so much about me in the short amount of time I’d been here. “It is my style. It’s just that…” I was too ashamed to admit I couldn’t afford the clothes in the store. How would I appear to a guy like Seven, who could buy anything he wanted?