With the weary feeling of déjà vu, I called my client, got his voice mail, and left a message that sounded, perhaps, a wee bit more like a lecture than necessary. I did promise to help him out, but really, he should know better. I returned, once again, to my computer and spreadsheets.
A knock at my front door diverted my concentration from taxes. Irritated, I pushed away from my desk, went to the hallway, and jerked the front door open.
Greg.
With speed born from shock, I flung myself into reverse, attempted to do the same to the door, and ran.
He caught the door with lightning reflexes. It rebounded off his hand and crashed into the wall.
"Wait, Thea! Sorry. Wait. Sorry."
I stopped in my office doorway, my heart crashing into my ribcage, and face him, hand on the knob, knowing I could slam my office door in his face and lock it before he even thought about putting a foot into my house.
"Please. Sorry. I only came by to apologize for my behavior on Monday."
I eyed him, not believing his words. But, he didn't look crazed. He looked like he'd come from his office. His well-cut dark gray suit and maroon silk tie would have made Jonathan envious. Still…
"Apology accepted. You can go now."
"I don't suppose you'd invite me in?"
"You suppose right."
He scratched the back of his head and moved his gaze to the doormat he seemed rooted on. "I guess I deserved that."
I didn't answer.
"Listen." He looked at me again. "I also meant to ask if you wanted Blackie back."
"What?" I blinked.
"Blackie. I don't want him. Valerie's parents are letting me have a lot of her things because we were engaged, but I really don't want another horse."
"You – what?" If he'd strung a bunch of random words together he would have made more sense.
"I'm willing to sell him back to you. Fifty thousand. It's half of what you got for him."
My jaw dropped. Now I understood, and I quaked with rage. "That bill of sale was fake, and you know it."
Greg shook his head. "No. It's quite real."
"You bastard, you son-of-a-bitch. You took that to the sheriff. You made it up and took it to the sheriff." The small amount of my remaining sanity kept me from running at him and beating him senseless.
He shook his head and tsked. And he smiled, cold and small. "Such language. Do the math. Count the beans. There are other people who'd pay four times that for him. You're getting a deal, BC."
"Fuck you. He's not yours."
"Watch your mouth, little lady."
The phone rang.
"Get out of my house."
"Think about it."
My fingers curled into a fist. The phone rang, again.
"I'm a patient man, but even I have my limits. You'll see it my way." His gaze held mine in an unmistakable threat.
"Out."
His lip curved in a mean twist and he gave me a little salute as the phone rang for the third time. Then he turned and strode off my porch. I dashed to the front door, slammed it shut, and locked it. I answered the phone with a shaky "hello" after the fourth ring, recognized Uncle Henry's voice, and burst into hiccupping sobs.
"Thea, what's wrong? What's happened?"
"Greg was here!"
"I'm on my way." Anger clipped his words. From the shuffling sounds coming over the line I knew he was putting on his coat.
"No, no, I'm fine. Greg's gone. It's Blackie." I continued to cry, barely able to choke out words, desperate to protect my horse. "Greg – he thinks he owns him. He's trying to sell him to me. He might try and take him!"
"I'm coming to get you."
"No," I sniffed. "I'm okay. Keep Greg away from Blackie."
In the background a door slammed then Aunt Vi spoke. "He's calmed down now, Henry. Thea's safe, isn't she?"
"Blackie!" I yelped. "He's hurt Blackie -"
"No, no one's hurt your horse – yes, Vi, she's fine." He addressed me again. "He was just acting a little strange and Vi was sure there was a problem -"
"Like last time?"
"Not quite. More whinnying than running. Are you quite sure you're okay?"
"Yes."
"All right then, don't worry about Blackie. We'll lock the gate and keep an eye out. Paul said he was going to be staying in Seattle through the weekend, so we'll know to be suspicious if we hear any vehicles. If I were you, though, I'd call Mr. Green. Can you do that?"
"Yes." I sniffed again.
"Good. I expect he'll tell you to call the sheriff, but you'd best talk to him first. I can come over if you want."
"No, don't. I'm okay now." I took a shaky breath. "I'll call Mr. Green and then I need to go over to Copper Creek."
"I don't care for this, Thea."
"Just protect Blackie. Please? I can take care of myself."
After fielding more protests from my uncle I called Mr. Green. As luck would have it, he'd just arrived at his office and was free. Back in command of myself, more or less, I explained what Greg had said about the bill of sale and his implied threat.
"I think it's time we took a restraining order out against Mr. Marshall," he said. "Don't worry about your horse. He'd have to prove the bill of sale is real and I doubt he can do that. I'm mostly concerned about his harassment of you. He seems to have it in for you for some reason. Were you two lovers or anything?"
"Absolutely not. You don't understand, we have to protect Blackie. You may not think he's at risk, but -"
"I'll take care of the restraining order. If you see Mr. Marshall around town, go the other way."
"Well, of course. But Blackie -"
"Oh, and if you see him around your house call the police. And tell your uncle to do the same if he shows up at his place."
"Okay." Finally, he understood.
It was nearly noon, so I made a quick sandwich and left for Copper Creek to pick up the weekly receipts. Juliet had gone out to eat with Eric, so Delores was alone in the office having lunch. I sat in Juliet's chair and gave her the news about Greg's latest visit while she wrote out the deposit slip.
"That moron," she said, picking up the cup of soup and spoon she'd set aside. "What does he want your horse for?"
Duh. "Money would be my guess."
"He must be dumber than I gave him credit for if he thinks you'd pay for your own horse. I think he's trying to torment you."
"What did I ever do to him?" I whined.
Delores put down her cup of soup and looked at me over the top of her glasses.
"He still seems to think you had something to do with Valerie's death. He was a wreck at the funeral."
"You'd think he'd want the real killer caught instead of going for the most convenient person. Did you hear about that mess with Melanie, Randy and Jacquelyn?"
"Oh, that's old news." She shrugged and began double checking the deposit slip.
"Well, not that old. I didn't know about it until I talked to Donna."
Without looking up from her tally sheet she said, "Thea, you're the only person I know who can be unconscious and still have her eyes open."
I shot her a useless scowl. I noticed things. Lots of things. I pushed the "crime of passion" theory I'd formulated. "I think there's a chance the Rucker family is involved. If Greg had any brains, he'd think so, too."
"Oh pish. You think Greg would deliberately walk in front of a train? He'd give all his information to the police. Greg wouldn't take on Randy. I doubt he's got a death wish. Randy's what, six-four? He's easily two-hundred pounds of solid cowboy."
"Well, maybe there was such a blow-up after my sister broke the news that one of them lost what little sense they had left."