eyed wonder at the half dozen police holding guns in the air. The statuesque woman wore heels that put her eye to eye with the bulk of his warriors and she fearlessly made only one comment.
“What on earth?”
Kahtar suddenly felt excessively foolish, obviously something had gone very wrong, but Beth White had not shot Honor, and nobody’s life was in danger. Several large blueprints were scattered over a countertop and Beth held only a charcoal pencil in her hand. She looked amused when she met his eyes and without meaning to he stepped towards her, her too friendly heart already flip-flopping against his. He refused to know how appealing it was.
“Somebody called 911.”
Beth’s brows arched as though considering that, but she didn’t argue, taking Kahtar at his word. She stooped neatly to look under the mismatched tables, addressing the cowering men with calm politeness.
“Does somebody have their cell in their pocket maybe?”
The workmen crawled out as one, and several hurried to check their phones until the culprit popped up from behind the long walnut counter and shamefacedly admitted.
“I was sitting on it—but I didn’t ask for the police!”
Consider Drake piped up. “I heard the call, there was shouting and somebody said ‘They were going to slaughter them …’ and then it cut off.”
Men Kahtar recognized as local electricians and plumbers, started to laugh. Beth grinned at the abashed culprit, the only man wearing a suit.
“Sherman made a booty call,” she teased.
The soft faced, grey suited man swore, placing the phone in the inside pocket of his suit.
“Lawyers have their own vocabulary, and I meant I was going to slaughter the town in court if they didn’t approve Beth for wiring—legally they have to.” Looking around at the police, his pale eyes narrowed in suspicion. On a silent signal from Kahtar his men all immediately holstered their weapons, and two of them started to help a carpenter trying to put the door back on its hinges.
Sherman continued to eye them grimly, addressing Beth and feigning calm. The Lawyer lifted a piece of paper off the counter and fingered it. Kahtar noted the city’s seal on the letter and also the sheen of sweat on the man’s forehead. Sherman’s continually darting eyes and rambling betrayed his nervousness.
“This town is notorious for over-reacting. If they thought this house was really uninhabitable they wouldn’t have issued a Certificate of Occupancy. If they didn’t want an occupant they shouldn’t have let it go for back taxes, either, though I’d hardly call half a million back taxes! This letter is sheer bull!” Dramatically Sherman waved the paper before plunking it back on the counter. “Beth, you promised whoever gave you the best news got lunch, and I’d say that’s me.”
Beth, statuesque and polished, grinned at the man. Before she could reply, Kahtar interrupted with a growl.
“I’m afraid Miss White won’t be able to keep her promise. She’s under arrest.”
THE LOCAL LABORERS, who’d spent the morning trying to overcharge her and exaggerating the already substantial work the house needed, were suddenly on Beth’s side. The Police Chief himself slapped handcuffs over her wrists and led her across the room by her elbow, but now she had five new supporters who followed, shouting angry protests at him. Despite the cop marching at her side, Beth’s eyes kept returning to the door the brute had kicked down. The relief she felt over that intact door made no sense and she wondered why virtual strangers were more upset about her arrest than she herself.
When her new protectors quieted in unison, Beth looked around curiously, trying to see what had caused their silence. One look at the grim faced Police Chief and she had a good clue. The two carpenters became preoccupied with examining the doorframe again, and even the electrician began helping them. Chickens the whole lot of them, afraid to even
“What on earth?”
Kahtar suddenly felt excessively foolish, obviously something had gone very wrong, but Beth White had not shot Honor, and nobody’s life was in danger. Several large blueprints were scattered over a countertop and Beth held only a charcoal pencil in her hand. She looked amused when she met his eyes and without meaning to he stepped towards her, her too friendly heart already flip-flopping against his. He refused to know how appealing it was.
“Somebody called 911.”
Beth’s brows arched as though considering that, but she didn’t argue, taking Kahtar at his word. She stooped neatly to look under the mismatched tables, addressing the cowering men with calm politeness.
“Does somebody have their cell in their pocket maybe?”
The workmen crawled out as one, and several hurried to check their phones until the culprit popped up from behind the long walnut counter and shamefacedly admitted.
“I was sitting on it—but I didn’t ask for the police!”
Consider Drake piped up. “I heard the call, there was shouting and somebody said ‘They were going to slaughter them …’ and then it cut off.”
Men Kahtar recognized as local electricians and plumbers, started to laugh. Beth grinned at the abashed culprit, the only man wearing a suit.
“Sherman made a booty call,” she teased.
The soft faced, grey suited man swore, placing the phone in the inside pocket of his suit.
“Lawyers have their own vocabulary, and I meant I was going to slaughter the town in court if they didn’t approve Beth for wiring—legally they have to.” Looking around at the police, his pale eyes narrowed in suspicion. On a silent signal from Kahtar his men all immediately holstered their weapons, and two of them started to help a carpenter trying to put the door back on its hinges.
Sherman continued to eye them grimly, addressing Beth and feigning calm. The Lawyer lifted a piece of paper off the counter and fingered it. Kahtar noted the city’s seal on the letter and also the sheen of sweat on the man’s forehead. Sherman’s continually darting eyes and rambling betrayed his nervousness.
“This town is notorious for over-reacting. If they thought this house was really uninhabitable they wouldn’t have issued a Certificate of Occupancy. If they didn’t want an occupant they shouldn’t have let it go for back taxes, either, though I’d hardly call half a million back taxes! This letter is sheer bull!” Dramatically Sherman waved the paper before plunking it back on the counter. “Beth, you promised whoever gave you the best news got lunch, and I’d say that’s me.”
Beth, statuesque and polished, grinned at the man. Before she could reply, Kahtar interrupted with a growl.
“I’m afraid Miss White won’t be able to keep her promise. She’s under arrest.”
THE LOCAL LABORERS, who’d spent the morning trying to overcharge her and exaggerating the already substantial work the house needed, were suddenly on Beth’s side. The Police Chief himself slapped handcuffs over her wrists and led her across the room by her elbow, but now she had five new supporters who followed, shouting angry protests at him. Despite the cop marching at her side, Beth’s eyes kept returning to the door the brute had kicked down. The relief she felt over that intact door made no sense and she wondered why virtual strangers were more upset about her arrest than she herself.
When her new protectors quieted in unison, Beth looked around curiously, trying to see what had caused their silence. One look at the grim faced Police Chief and she had a good clue. The two carpenters became preoccupied with examining the doorframe again, and even the electrician began helping them. Chickens the whole lot of them, afraid to even
Similar Books
