Carolyn Hart - Dead by Midnight

Dead By Midnight

Carolyn Hart

Dedication

To Deborah Schneider with love

Contents

G len Jamison looked every one of his fifty-two years, his fair hair flecked with silver, his aristocratic face mournful, his six-foot-two frame too thin. He hunched at the desk in his study and felt a sense of panic, like the beginnings of a fire flickering at his feet then billowing to an inferno. How much longer could the firm go on?

There wasnt enough money coming in. The appointment book had too many empty spots. Maybe they shouldnt dump Kirk even though cutting him should save at least a hundred thousand a year. He hated looking into Kirks blue eyes, which held the hurt puzzlement of a kicked dog. Of course, Kirk was young. Not yet thirty. He was a brilliant lawyer. Hed find a job. But he wouldnt find a job on the island. There were only two other firms and neither intended to expand. Not in times like these. Kirk needed to stay on Browards Rock. Glen tried not to think how desperately Kirk needed to be here.

Glen wondered if it would do any good to talk to Cleo again. If Kirk stayed, Laura wouldnt be so angry with him, either. It was a misery to go to the office and see Kirk, tight-lipped and grim. Then he shook his head. He knew in his heart that Cleo wouldnt agree to keep Kirk. Maybe it had been another mistake to give Kirk a couple of months to wind down his cases. But that had seemed the decent thing to do and Cleo had agreed.

Glen had been a little surprised at her acquiescence but grateful he didnt have to face her disapproval. He was getting enough disapproval around town. A couple of times at the Mens Grill, he was sure hed been avoided by clients. In fact, Ted Toomey had canceled an appointment a few days after word got around that the firm was letting Kirk go. Ted had said evasively that he was still giving the matter that they had intended to discuss some thought. One more empty slot in the appointment book. The money wasnt coming in and Cleo wanted... Cleo wanted many things. Hed given in over the trip to Paris for Christmas.

When the kids were little, he and Maddy and the kids came home from the midnight service and put the baby Jesus in the crche. Now the crche was in the attic with the other Christmas decorations that had been in his family for generations. The decorations Maddy and the kids had made together were boxed up, too.

Cleo had wanted all new decorations for their first Christmas together. Hed hated the tree. Shiny white with all blue balls, the tree reminded him of a department store. The kids hated the tree, too. They hated everything Cleo did. This year she had waved away the idea of decorating. After all, theyd be in Paris...

The kids had been unhappy ever since he married Cleo. He used to be excited to have his children home. Not anymore. Maddy had been gone so long now. He still felt the clutch of emptiness in his gut when he thought of her and the night the police came to the door to tell him about the accident. The first few years hed been in a daze, working, trying not to think, hurting. He owed everything to Elaine. Shed given up her job in Atlanta and come to help and be there for the kids. The kids loved their aunt.

He felt guilty every time he passed the first bedroom on the second floor that had been Elaines room. Now she lived in the cottage not far from the gazebo. Shed acted as if the new quarters were fine. Maybe she liked the cottage, but she didnt like Cleo any more than the kids did. Cleo had insisted Elaine needed a life of her own. After all, shed done a good job with the kids. Maybe shed like to go back to Atlanta. But Elaine had been on the island for so many years now. She had her friends, a life shed built, and of course Tommy was still in high school. That was another problem. Well, Tommy had acted up. He had to find out who was boss. The matter was settled.

Anger was everywhere around him. Pat Merridew had worked for the firm for so many years, but Cleo had insisted Pat was frumpy and they needed a young and charming receptionist. Firing Pat hadnt saved money. Cleo was paying the new girl even more. Glen hated to remember the ugly look on Pats face when he saw her yesterday on the street. And then there was Kirk...

Glen shied away from thinking about Kirk. It would be a relief not to have to face him every day. Theyd given him two months to close down his cases. Three more weeks and hed be gone.

Cleo told him to buck up. Everything would get better.

The money flow would have to get better soon.

R ichard Jamison parked his rust-streaked 2004 Pontiac in the shade of a live oak. He left the windows down and pulled a stained duffel from the trunk. The house looked just as he remembered it, a gracious Lowcountry antebellum home, tabby exterior moss green in the June sunshine. Wicker furniture on the shaded verandah looked inviting. Hed like to settle in a rocker with a rum collins. He and Glen could talk over old times. Hed have to go cautiously with Glen. It would never do for Glen to realize that Richard had come to the island to seek financial backing. If he presented everything just right, he could persuade Glen that he was giving him a good investment opportunity.

Richard hefted the duffel. He was curious to meet his hostess. Hed been in Singapore when Glen remarried. Maddy had been dead for six years now, maybe seven. He wondered how the kids felt about a stepmother. Especially a stepmother who was only a few years older than Laura. And how did Glens sister, who had since then served as chatelaine of the antebellum home, feel about the new Mrs. Jamison?

Kids... As he climbed the front steps, he gave a slight shake of his head. Not kids anymore. Laura must be about twenty-four. Kit was in graduate school. Tommy was in high school.

An old friend had written him about Glens second wife. Cleos hot, a tall brunette, sultry brown eyes, leggy but stacked. Cleos one lucky lady. Whatever she does succeeds. High school beauty queen. Top grades in law school. Bowls over guys with one glance. Her favorite games roulette. The ball always seems to fall in her pocket. Dont know what she saw in Glen except hes top drawer when it comes to an old Southern family and her roots are middle class. She grew up in Hardeeville, mom a teacher, dad a fireman. They lived in a modest frame house on an unpaved road. Plus, Glen used to have a lot more cash till the meltdown in 08. Cleo came to work at the firm, made partner in a year, married Glen the next year.

Richard shifted the duffel, punched the doorbell. Hed selected his wardrobe with care, a boring blue oxford-cloth shirt, poplin slacks, and cordovan loafers, a far cry from his usual frayed tee, baggy shorts, and flip-flops. Hed shaved the stubble that he preferred, even sported a short haircut. He hoped the preppy look would reassure Glen that his wild cousin Richard could, with the proper financial backing, become a pillar of the community.

When the white door opened, Cleo Jamison pushed the screen, held it wide for him. Dark brown hair cupped a long face with deep-set brown eyes, a straight nose, and full lips. A summery blouse emphasized the curve of her breasts. Sleek jade slacks molded to her legs. She smiled. You must be Richard. Her throaty voice made him think of cast-aside pillows and rumpled sheets. She reached out a perfectly manicured hand, the fingers long, slim, and warm, to take his hand.

Richard felt a flood of desire. His response was immediate and instinctual. For an instant, a hot current sizzled between them.

Cleo relinquished his hand. Her gaze was abruptly remote. Her lips curved in a conventional, polite smile.

He stepped inside, once again under control. But shed responded for a flicker of an instant. Hadnt she?