A Wife in Time (Silhouette Desire)

A Wife in Time (Silhouette Desire) by Cathie Linz

Book: A Wife in Time (Silhouette Desire) by Cathie Linz Read Free Book Online
Authors: Cathie Linz
    “You still haven’t told me where you got that necklace of yours,” Hayward said. “As I told you, it is a very unique design and it was of some special consequence to my wife. In fact, it was her last wish that she be buried in it.” The words were clipped, as if they’d slipped out unintentionally.
    Susannah got goose bumps. Elsbeth had been buried wearing this necklace? Well, not this exact one, but the twin of Susannah’s great-grandmother’s. Elsbeth’s ghost must have recognized the necklace! That’s why she’d chosen Susannah to help her. “Would the dear friend of your poor departed wife to whom you referred earlier by chance be Mrs. Hall?” Susannah asked. She could see by the look in Hayward’s eyes that it was. “Because I’m very close to Althea Hall.” That much was true; after all, the woman had been her great-grandmother. “I admired the design and had a copy made.”
    The man still looked suspicious. “The design was done especially for Elsbeth and her friend. The jeweler was supposed to destroy the mold.”
    “I know that. Mrs. Hall and I shared the same jeweler. And as a favor to me, the jeweler made another necklace before destroying the mold, providing that I promised not to tell anyone. And here I am, spilling the beans.”
    “Spilling the beans?”
    “Just an expression,” she hurriedly replied.
    “And your name is?” Hayward demanded.
    “Again I must apologize. I don’t know what’s happened to my manners. My name is Susannah Ha—” A discreet jab from Kane reminded her. “Wilder. Mrs. Susannah Wilder and this is my husband, Kane. We’ve come from a long distance away to offer our condolences.” And to find out what really happened with your wife’s suicide, she silently added.
    “I must say your manner is most peculiar. You use expressions I’m not familiar with and there is something about your conduct that is most out of the ordinary. Where exactly are you from?” Hayward asked.
    “We’re from France,” Kane heard himself say. “That’s why we’re different,” he tacked on.
    “France?” Hayward repeated.
    Susannah could identify with Hayward’s incredulity, as she felt the same way herself. Where the heck had Kane come up with a comment like that?
    * * *
    “We’re from France,” Susannah mimicked once they were back on the street and away from Hayward Whitaker’s office. “I can’t believe you said that! Lucky for you I speak French. I knew my minor in French poetry would come in handy some day,” she murmured to herself.
    “I thought I covered things just fine,” Kane retorted. “He bought my story about us meeting in Europe, that we were raised over there by American parents living in the French countryside.”
    “But you tripped up big-time by not being able to speak any French,” she took pleasure in reminding him.
    “I covered that by saying my heritage was Polish.”
    “Sounded like you made it up to me. The story and the Polish words.”
    “I’ll have you know that those were honest-to-God Polish curses my granddad taught me.”
    “Great. Lucky for you Hayward didn’t know Polish.”
    “If I was really lucky, I wouldn’t be in this fix with you,” Kane retorted. “So what did we learn from our little visit?”
    “That he’s definitely not the grieving widower.”
    Kane was about to reply when someone bumped into him before moving on down the busy thoroughfare. Instinctively checking for his wallet, Kane found it was gone. The thief, a kid of about nine or ten, was running off even as Kane took chase. “Hey, you, come back here!” Kane shouted.
    Kane thought he was in good shape, but it was all he could do to keep up with the swift pace of the little pickpocket. He finally caught up with him a block later. Grabbing him by the back of his collar, Kane stopped the kid in his tracks.
    “Give me my wallet, you little rug-rat,” Kane growled, shaking the boy to prove he meant business.
    It was like shaking an orange

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