halfway down the east wing, they came to a wide mahogany door, which was a startling contrast to the unpainted doors of the other small hotel rooms.
Josh tried the door, but it was locked. “I don’t think I can budge this one,” he said as he eyed the thick panels.
Stacy reached into her purse. “The lawyer gave me this ring of keys. Maybe one of these will work.”
The first two keys he tried didn’t fit the lock, but the third one turned with a rewarding click. He cautiously opened the door, and they waited for a few seconds to make sure it wasn’t booby-trapped. Then they walked in.
“I don’t believe it!” Stacy said in a stunned voice. After the ugly debacle in the rest of the place, the furnished apartment at the front of the building was a total shock.
“Well, I’ll be,” Josh muttered in total surprise.
Stacy walked around the rooms in a trance. Walls had been torn out to open up the spacious areas of a living room, dining alcove and modern kitchenette. The decor was definitely masculine: the walnut furniture was dark and heavy, plain beige drapes hung at the windows, and brown carpeting covered the floors throughout. All the pictures were prints of western scenes. No personal effects were visible in any of the rooms, and closets and drawers were empty. Even the bathroom was void of towels, soap and shower mat.
There was a telephone, and a blessed hum met Stacy’s ears when she checked the line. Good. Now she’d be able to call the car rental company, tell them what had happened and find out what she should do.
She wondered if the lawyer had arranged for her uncle’s possessions to be boxed and stored somewhere. It was as if the apartment had been stripped of everything belonging to an earlier occupant. Even though there was an eerie emptiness in the dusty rooms, Stacy couldn’t hold back the tears of relief. Thank God, she’d found livable quarters.
Josh’s reaction was at the opposite end of the scale. Up until now, he’d been certain that Stacy would have to find accommodations in Timberlane whether she wanted to or not.
As he stared out a glass door at the wrought-iron balcony, his chest tightened. The thought of any unprotected woman living in this abhorrent place alarmed him.
“Well, I guess that settles it,” he heard Stacy say in a relieved tone as she came out of the bedroom. “I can stay here and be very comfortable while I see to the renovations and arrange for—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he interrupted her. “You should ask for legal permission to live elsewhere. At least, until you get some security measures put in place.”
“There’s a good lock on this door.”
“But what about the rest of the place? Anybody could wander in, night or day. It’s not safe for a woman to be staying here alone.” He glanced once more at the balcony. “Not safe at all.”
“Josh, I’m not Glenda,” she said quietly, reading his thoughts.
“No, and I’m hoping you have a lot more sense than she did.” He softened his tone. “Stacy, the whole stability of the building is in question—ceilings, walls, floors and the like. The entire place should be condemned and be done with it.”
“Thanks for your opinion. I’ll keep it in mind, but for the moment, I think I’ll bring my bags up from the lobby and get settled in.” She headed out the door and started down the stairs.
As he kept pace with her, he argued. “That ceiling beam that nearly crushed our skulls could be a warning that all kinds of accidents are waiting to happen.” If it was an accident, he added to himself.
“I have enough sense not to expose myself to unnecessary danger.”
“If you have a choice.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted truthfully. “I just don’t like the vibrations in this place.”
She nodded. “After what happened to Glenda, I can understand that. But my circumstances are different. Once the renovations are completed, I’ll get rid of the place and be free to get on with my life. I appreciate your concern, really I do.” As she looked at him, their eyes caught on some undefined emotional level that made them both look away quickly.
They had just reached the lower floor when sounds at the front door reached them. The light they’d left on in the party room dissipated the shadows in the foyer, and as the door opened they could see clearly the stocky, middle-aged man who stepped inside.
Dressed in a brown uniform, he wore a badge and a gun holster hung on one side. Giving his western hat a tilt backward, he centered a pair of probing eyes on them. “They told me at the Pantry that you two had been in earlier.”
“That’s right, Sheriff,” Josh said, forcing himself to use a civil tone. “What can we do for you?”
His ruddy face deepened. “I think you got it all wrong, young fellow. I’m here to see what I can do for…Miss Ashford, isn’t it?” He held out a weathered hand. “Mighty pleased to meet you. Sheriff Mosley.”
Stacy murmured a polite response, conscious of the hostility vibrating between the two men as strong as a head wind.
“Is that a key to the front door?” Josh asked abruptly as the sheriff fingered it with one of his hands.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” He scowled. “It’s really none of your business, Josh, but I’ve been seeing to the property at the request of this lady’s lawyer, Mr. Doughty.”
“Is that why Chester and Rob have had the run of the place? They were inside when we got here this morning.”
Stacy intervened quickly, trying to head off a building confrontation. “I understand that the two men were employed by Uncle Willard. I want to get the place in saleable shape as quickly as possible, and they seemed to be receptive to working for me.”
“I’m sure they would, ma’am. They aren’t the smartest yahoos in the world, but pretty good with their hands. Of course, there’s a need for someone to supervise them.”
“That would be me,” Josh stated, ignoring the slight intake of Stacy’s breath. “I happen to be free right now.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe Miss Ashford ought to take a little time before making any decisions.” Then he added, as if Josh was responsible for any lack of judgment on her part, “I heard she spent the night at your place last night.”
“Yes, I did,” Stacy answered herself, irritated that the sheriff was talking about her as if she weren’t there. Caught in an undercurrent between these two men, her temper flared. “I wrecked my car in the storm, as you probably know.”
She’d bet that Marci, Alice and Ted had spread the story faster than a television news bulletin. The whole town probably knew that Weird Willy’s heir was here to claim her inheritance and handsome Josh Spencer already had her in tow. “I appreciate your concern, Sheriff, but I assure you that I’m more than capable of handling my affairs.”
“And I welcome the chance to have myself a look
