The Village of Gerard's Cliff (10 page)

Allie took a step back,
and looked completely confused now. "Alright...um..." She
stammered. "I'll see you in the morning then." He saw her lift her
jaw and veil her eyes. "Good night, Connor." Allie's tone was cold
and distant now. He watched her turn and walk away from him. As she
headed to her bedroom, Connor walked slowly up the stairs to
his.

A sharp knocking at the door disrupted Allie's musings for
only a moment. Still lost in her thoughts over Connor's strange
behavior the night before, she left the kitchen and walked to the
parlor.

Allie opened the front door without peering out first, and,
as she swung the door inward, was shocked to see two police
officers standing on her porch. "May I help you?" She worriedly
eyed the officers. "I'm Allie Colborne, the owner. Oh, I know you,
sir...Mike, is that right?" She nodded to the older officer,
recognizing him from the day she had gone to the dock to see her
husband's body. "Is something wrong?" She felt confused and
couldn't imagine why they were at her door.

"Is there a Connor Garrison staying here, Mrs. Colborne?"
the officer, Mike, moved closer to the door as he addressed
her.

"Yes, he is. I think Mr.
Garrison is in his room now, as a matter of fact," she answered,
still puzzled at this turn of events.

"We'd like to ask him a few questions, if you don't
mind...... getting him, that is."

"May I ask what's happened? I believe I have a right to
know, as he is staying here." Allie asserted, becoming extremely
curious.

"Everybody knows by now,
Mrs. Colborne, I guess there's no harm in telling you," the officer
informed her. "A body was discovered this morning in the walkway
beside Max's Bar in the village. The owner found him when he was
opening up the place. The old man's name was Jake Ayers, and
witnesses have told us that Mr. Garrison was the last person to
have been seen with him last night in the bar."

Allie froze in stunned
silence, her eyes widening as she stared at the officer. "I'll call
him down," she told him flatly, blinking. As she turned, she
motioned to the officers. "Please come in." The two men entered,
and closed the door behind them, as Allie hurried to the desk. She
picked up the phone and dialed Connor's room, nervously glancing at
the officers, who stood in front of the door, hats in
hands.

After what seemed like an
eternity, but was, in reality, only a few seconds and two rings, he
picked up the phone. "Connor Garrison." His voice sounded warm and
reliable to her, even after last night.

She spoke calmly. "Connor,
there are two officers in the front parlor who want to speak to
you."

"O....kay." He drew out
the word, clearly puzzled. "I'll be right down."

Allie stood tensely at the
desk and waited for Connor, wondering if he would be as evasive as
he was last night. He hadn't come down for breakfast or lunch
today. She didn't know what he could be doing in his room all day,
other than avoiding her. After a moment, she saw him quickly
descend the stairs. He glanced at her for a moment, and raised his
eyebrows, looking perplexed. He strode to the parlor, eyeing the
officers as he approached them.

"I'm Connor Garrison." he
was cordial, as he put his hands casually on his hips, looking from
one to the other. "How can I help you?"

"Mr. Garrison," the older
officer began, then halted abruptly, and looked over at Allie...not
sure whether to continue.

"I'll wait outside," Allie
offered, slightly annoyed. She averted her eyes as she walked past
the three men, and grabbed her jacket off the knob by the front
door. She walked out into the damp coldness. It would be dark
within an hour, she thought. She chose the wicker rocker that was
at the far end of the porch; she didn't want to appear to be
eavesdropping, after all. In truth, she was dying to know the
details, and Connor's role in the man's death.

So, she thought...the
facts. Connor had been to Max's Bar last night. He had met a man
named Jake Ayers, according to the police, and now that man was
dead. And Connor was the last person to have been seen with him.
She shuddered from the cold and the sudden chill she felt inside
over this unexpected circumstance.

Connor, a murderer? She
mulled this thought over in her head. She was convinced that this
man was not...could not be a murderer....how could he be? He was
thoughtful, and tender, and...Allie suddenly envisioned them in the
cave...the images swirled in her head of their love-making...and
her heart sank A murderer couldn't make love like that, could he?
She would know if he were an evil person, she reasoned, and Connor
was anything but.

Allie wrestled with the
image of Connor in the act of killing someone. With his height, and
obvious muscular strength, he certainly was physically capable of
it, even without a weapon, she imagined. A vision popped in her
head of Connor towering over a smaller, helpless older man,
wrestling with him, and choking him, until the lifeless victim
slumped to the ground at his feet. But, was he capable of murder?
Allie shuddered again and pulled her coat around her...shivering.
Maybe it had been self-defense. After all, she would have killed
Ethan if he had continued his assault.

She wondered who this man Jake Ayers was, and why he was
with Connor at the bar. Were they just drinking together? Did they
know each other? Was that why Connor seemed so nervous and
strange-acting when he came back to the inn that night? Allie's
mind was dizzy with questions.
She speculated on how the man died. Were
the police sure that he had been murdered? Maybe, like Ethan, he
had drunk too much in the bar, and suffered a heart attack as he
walked home. There were lots of possible scenarios, Allie
surmised.

She rubbed her hands
together to get them warm. Would the police arrest Connor? She
wondered if they would be walking out soon....Connor, his handsome,
dark head bowed in submission, his strong hands cuffed behind him.
She imagined him looking at her from beneath his lowered thick
brows, his beautiful blue eyes clouded with humiliation for her to
see him in that condition.

Get a grip, Allie
admonished herself. After all, she had reminded herself...she had
not known Connor for very long, but she knew she...she...loved
everything about him. Had she been alone these past few days with a
murderer? Made love to a murderer? Allie took a deep breath and
exhaled a mist of condensation, watching it dissipate. Her mind was
wild now with the possibilities. He hadn't really told her
everything about himself...why he was here. He had been very vague
when she asked, she remembered. He never really answered her
question. She fidgeted in the cold, damp air, which had found its
way to her very bones. She jiggled her knees up and down, not only
to get warmth back into her legs, but to ease her discomfort at
having to wait for answers. She realized that she was not a patient
person.

The front door opened,
causing the twig wreath to bounce, jolting her from her myriad
thoughts. The two officers walked out onto the porch, followed by
Connor.

"Thank you for your time,
Mr. Garrison." Mike turned and spoke to Connor in a serious, but
amiable tone.

Wait a minute...Allie stared, dumbfounded. Connor was not
only
not
in handcuffs...he was escorting the officers out to the
porch, as if he owned the inn and was seeing off his
guests!

Allie leaned forward and
stared at the men. Connor stood at the door, one hand casually
slung in the pocket of his jeans.

They all ignored
her.

"We're sorry to have
bothered you, sir." The younger cop nodded to Connor, and put his
cap back on his head.

"Not a problem," Connor
replied affably.

The two officers started
down the steps, then, as an afterthought, the cop named Mike turned
to Allie, and put his hand up in a gesture of
appreciation.

"Thank you, Mrs.
Colborne." He nodded, "Sorry you had to wait out in this
cold."

"That's okay," Allie
replied, her voice quivering, as she discovered that her lips were
practically frozen. She was so confused. She had braced herself to
see Connor in handcuffs - ready to think of him as a
murderer....now what was she supposed to think?

She stood up and looked at
Connor, who was waving off the police car as it exited her parking
lot, the other hand still in his pocket. Allie was hesitant, unsure
of what to do next. Get inside, you ninny, she scolded herself. She
walked across the porch, aware of Connor watching her intently. He
stepped out of the way so she could pass through the doorway. She
didn't bother to acknowledge him as she swept past him, anxious to
feel the warmth of the parlor's fireplace.

Allie hung her jacket on
the knob, aware of Connor next to her, slowly closing the front
door.

"My....that seemed to go
well." She commented sarcastically. "And you seem to be feeling
much better today, I see." She decided to face this head on...why
should she be timid? She had to have answers. She had a right to
know the truth about this man who was sleeping under her roof.
Allie walked across the parlor, and stood close to the fireplace,
rubbing her arms, feeling the warmth returning to her chilled body.
She turned her head back toward Connor, who continued to stand by
the door, his hands on his hips, and awaited an
explanation.

"What do you want to
know?" Connor asked her simply, as he crossed the parlor to stand
facing her in front of the blazing fire. He looked down at her for
a moment, then, changing his mind, turned around and sat in the
overstuffed chair by the fireplace. His nonchalant attitude was
really starting to grate on her nerves. Allie continued to rub her
arms. She saw that he had leaned forward, resting both elbows on
his knees, his hands now clasped in a fist beneath his jaw as he
looked up at her. Allie was acutely aware of Connor studying her
face.

"Well...I guess you didn't
kill that man - Jake Ayers, since you're still here," she began,
feeling bolder now, "and not hauled off in handcuffs."

To her amazement and
annoyance, Connor leaned back in the chair and laughed
heartily.

"Is that what you were
thinking about out there on the porch?" His eyes looked amused, and
he laughed again as her agitation reached the boiling point. How
dare he laugh at her.

"What was I supposed to think?" She swung around toward
him, her hands ceased their rubbing. "The police come to my door,
looking for you after finding a
dead
man and you're the last person to have been with
him. The officers told me that before I called you down." Her voice
had risen, and she noticed that his eyebrows shot up. "How dare you
laugh at me!" She glared at him, completely frustrated with
him.

"I appreciate your concern for me, Allie, I do," He offered
in a calm voice, resting his elbows on his knees once more. "I
hadn't realized the officers had filled you in on the details."
Connor again rested his chin on his fist as he stared at the fire,
and thoughtfully rubbed his upper lip with his
forefinger.

Connor had to make a
decision...and make it quick. Before his talk with Jake Ayers last
night, he had been devising a plan of action, thinking he had a
couple of days before implementing it. But this morning, his office
told him to hang tight...not to do anything until they processed
the information from Jake Ayers...the pieces were starting to fit
together, but, they needed more. Then, damn it, the man goes and
dies on him. The officers were pretty sure the coroner would rule
his death a homicide, and now, Connor could not wait any longer.
The man was a snitch. Whoever took him out knew it. And on top of
that, Ayers had told Connor something unsettling, and he wasn't
sure how to take it at this point. He looked at Allie - not sure at
all. When he talked to Bill this morning, Connor had left out one
important piece of information that Ayers had given him, and he
hoped he had made the right call. He had stayed up all night making
that decision.

He saw that she seemed
lost in thought in front of the fire. What a turn of events, he
thought, wryly. He hadn't expected Patrick Colborne's widow to be
...well...Allie, and now that might tend to complicate things. At
times, she seemed to dislike him intensely, even more so after the
police arrived, and he couldn't blame her for that...and he knew
she thought he was acting strangely last night. But he had good
reason to act that way...then he was forced to make a gut decision
before calling his office.

"Would you like some hot
coffee?" Allie suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "There's some
left from this morning." She sounded almost normal...but not
quite...a hint of tiredness and resignation tinged her
voice.

"Coffee sounds
great...and..Allie, I need to talk to you when you come
back."

Connor heard her sigh as
she walked to the kitchen. He sat back in the chair, figuring out
how to tell her. How will she take it, he wondered. And would he
know by her reaction if Ayers was right.

Allie returned with the
mugs of steaming coffee. As much as Connor would have loved to sit
by the fire with Allie and just forget about everything, he knew
this was the only time he had to tell her. He had been taking a
gamble, in his opinion, to wait this long. She placed a mug on the
side table next to his chair, and sat in the chair opposite his.
She sipped from the mug, cupping her hands around it, and drew her
legs up under her in the plump chair. Then, she looked at him
squarely, expectantly, seriously. He was sure she was thinking that
nothing else today could surprise her.