LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

people she’d met with their homes. But until today there had been no reason even to notice the striking, lightly varnished wooden house that sat on a large lot with a number of evergreen trees. The name on the mailbox read Taggart Kingsley, and while Linda slowed her steps so she could take a really good look at his home, Tag’s last name registered. He was a Kingsley!

      But he was a carpenter—such an honest, basic, simple vocation—and why would one of the incredibly wealthy Kingsleys paint and renovate apartments?

      Frowning, Linda pondered that puzzle and decided it made no sense. She’d heard about the Kingsleys. They were wealthy from decades of successful cattle ranching even before they’d created MonMart, which was a huge superstore on Kingsley Avenue that sold groceries, clothing, household goods, tools, garden supplies and almost anything else a Montana resident might need. MonMart was, by all accounts, extremely profitable. Gossip had it that many more MonMart stores were planned for Montana, and some predicted that the Kingsleys wouldn’t stop until the whole country was peppered with their stores.

      But that image didn’t coincide with Linda’s impression of Tag. Could he be a shirttail relative of the more ambitious Kingsleys? Should she ask around and find out?

      No, Linda thought vehemently. She was not going to pry into anyone’s affairs, family or otherwise. Everyone deserved some privacy, which, she had already been warned about several times, was difficult to preserve in this small town.

      After another thirty minutes of walking, Linda turned around and headed for home. When she passed Tag’s place, though, she slowed down again, and this time she spotted the building in the trees that appeared to be his shop.

      She admired his yard and from her present viewpoint was able to see the swing set in back, some scattered toys and what appeared to be a sandbox—all evidence of a child. Thinking of Tag’s personal life—widowed so young and with a little daughter to raise—Linda walked on.

      Past his place, she picked up her pace. Inside her front door she freed Tippy from the leash and the dog ran for the kitchen yapping a “Hi, I’m back” for his new friend’s benefit. Linda hung the leash in the foyer closet and then started up the stairs for a quick shower. She hadn’t done any running, but she had walked fast and worked up a sweat. The day was warm, bordering on hot. According to longtime residents, it was much too hot and dry for this time of year. Actually, Linda thought the weather was just about perfect, but she knew that a lot of people, including the U.S. Forest Service, were concerned about the tinder-dry conditions throughout the area.

      She was halfway up the stairs when she heard Tag say, “Linda, a friend of yours came by. A man.”

      Linda turned. “A friend? Did he give you his name?”

      “No, he didn’t.”

      A frown appeared between Linda’s eyebrows. “Well, did you know him? I mean, was it someone from the school?”

      “I never set eyes on the guy before today, but he walked in without knocking, so I figured you must know him very well.”

      Linda’s jaw dropped. “He walked in? That’s impossible. I locked the door when I left and just now unlocked it to get in.” She held up her key for him to see.

      “You had to unlock the door because I locked it after that guy took off.”

      “Wait a minute.” Linda went back down the stairs and confronted Tag on the same level. “Listen to me. I locked the door when I left.”

      “Then that guy must have a key.”

      Linda’s voice became slightly shrill. “Nobody has a key!”

      “Well, he got in, and he sure as the devil didn’t announce his visit with a knock. Linda, are you saying you don’t know this guy?”

      Linda was breathing deeply to calm her racing heart. Who in Rumor would just walk into her apartment? Even if the door had been left unlocked.

      “What did he look like?” she asked, sounding a little breathless.

      Tag frowned. Was Linda scared of someone? Scared for a reason? “Like a fish out of water, to be honest,” he said slowly, watching her closely as he spoke. “When I heard him come in I thought you were back, but then I didn’t hear Tippy and something felt off-kilter. Anyhow, I came in here to see what was going on and the look on that guy’s face when he saw me was almost funny. He mumbled something about being in the wrong apartment and took off so fast he practically left skid marks. Kind of strange, don’t you think?”

      “Yes…strange,” Linda murmured thoughtfully. Was she wrong about having locked the door? Could she recall with detailed certainty stepping outside, inserting the key in the lock and turning it? Try as she might, she couldn’t. It was possible that she hadn’t locked the door.

      Which didn’t explain someone off the street taking a notion to just walk in.

      “Maybe you should call the sheriff and file a report,” Tag suggested.

      Linda mulled that over for a moment. “I don’t know. No harm was done.”

      “Meaning you’d rather not involve the law. Why not, Linda? Is it because that guy could be someone you know?”

      Tag’s suspicion rubbed her wrong. If she did have a male friend with a key to her apartment, it would really be none of Taggart Kingsley’s business.

      “No, not because he could be someone I know,” Linda snapped with biting sarcasm, immediately regretting her feisty comeback. She liked Tag, and she didn’t want him thinking that she was morally loose, although to be perfectly honest she wasn’t sure what she would like him to think about her.

      “Look,” she said in a more normal voice, “no one has a key to this place but me, and probably Heck. Since I like my doors locked, I assumed I had locked it when I left. Obviously I hadn’t.”

      “Yeah, obviously,” Tag said, still frowning.

      “Was the man short, tall or somewhere in between?”

      “Around five-eight, I’d have to say. Kind of short for a man.”

      “Considering your own height, five foot eight probably looks short to you. What color was his hair?”

      “I think his hair was dark. No, you’d better scratch that. He was wearing a stocking cap and sunglasses. I couldn’t say with any certainty what color his hair or eyes were.”

      Oh my God, was that another disguise? Was today’s visitor the same guy who came to my door twice before? Did he simply walk in today because I left the apartment unlocked? Is this something I should be concerned about?

      For some reason, Linda couldn’t quite believe the poor sicko, whoever he was, was someone to fear. Twice she had opened the door for him and twice he’d immediately run away. If he had meant her any harm, it would already have happened. She just had to be more careful about locking the doors and windows, although the more she thought about it, the odder it all seemed. Did he want to rob her? She had some nice things, but a robbery in broad daylight in Rumor would not go unnoticed.

      “Are you positive you’ve never seen him before?” she asked.

      “I know everyone in town, Linda.”

      “You didn’t know me. He could have recently moved here.”

      “I suppose that could be true.” He could have reminded Linda that while he hadn’t actually met her until today, he’d heard about the great new art teacher from a number of sources. Strangers normally did not go unnoticed in Rumor.

      Linda squared her shoulders. “He merely walked into the wrong apartment,” she told Tag. “When he saw you he realized his error and left. Let’s both forget it.”

      Tag felt uneasy about the incident, particularly Linda’s cavalier attitude toward it. “Are you sure it should be forgotten?” This time he couldn’t resist warning her. “The guy’s a stranger, Linda.”

      “So

Скачать книгу