A Vision of Roses - Softcover

Cole, Deborah

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1438993064 ISBN 13: 9781438993065

Publisher: AuthorHouse, 2009

Synopsis

A killer stalks the city of Chicago and District Attorney Aaron Justice McCord is keeping his finger on the pulse of the investigation. Then there's the other "unofficial" investigation of the mysterious Elana Hart. Is she what she appears? Aaron really needs to know because she's everything he's ever dreamed of, but now the dream is becoming a nightmare and Aaron has to step into his destiny and heed the warning of the vision of roses

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

A Vision of Roses

By Deborah Cole

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Deborah Cole
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-9306-5

Chapter One

"You really don't get out much do you, Boss?" Chrissy flipped her bouncy, nearly white, curls out of the way as she stacked a pile of books onto the table in the center of the room.

"You must be getting bored with your new husband to start harassing me so soon ... And please, don't call me "boss", you know I hate that title." The "boss" tossed her long, dark, Indian-style braid over her shoulder and continued dusting the shelves.

Chrissy grinned. "Okay Ellie, but it's been what, four years since your husband died and you've been out like, three times?" Chrissy cocked one white-blond eyebrow knowingly at her friend.

Ellie nodded. That's right. Not everyone can be as lucky at finding the right guy as you were with James.

Chrissy's bright blue eyes narrowed. "Getting to meet James was the only good piece of luck in that mess."

Ellie sighed. "I'm sorry, Kid. I wasn't thinking. I know it was hard on you. Honestly, I'm just glad there are still good men like James out there, especially when they're in law enforcement. You hear such awful things these days." She stopped dusting to drape an arm around Chrissy's shoulders. "Look, I just feel like I've had my shot at marriage and it was a fairly successful venture."

"But ..." Chrissy interrupted.

Ellie's hand dropped to mangle the dust rang she held at her side. "But, I'm a busy woman, I've got five kids, I'm running this marvelous establishment and" She shrugged. "Who wants an almost forty year old woman anyway?"

Ellie looked down at her hands. They'd never been petite and years of gardening and cleaning made them something less than the soft, smooth hands in the dish soap commercials. She almost never wore nail polish, or grew her nails out past the end of her slender fingers. They were a constant reminder of her age, her life and her kids.

"I'm quite happy with my kids and the store." Maybe if she said it often enough she would someday actually believe it.

Chrissy shook her head. "Okay, I'll drop it for now, but I hope I look half as good as you when I get to be thirty-eight. You'd never guess to look at you, that you'd had five kids." She held out a feather duster as if it were a microphone. "So tell me lady, what's your secret?"

Ellie laughed. "Beats me. I've always just blamed my metabolism and nervous energy. God knows I eat like a horse!"

Both women laughed as they finished up the evening chores before closing it down for the night. Chrissy couldn't wait to get home to James and Ellie was looking forward to an evening with her 'herd' and hearing about their day.

'Old Friends and New' was her own enterprise. Ellie had worked hard to make it the best bookstore in the Chicago suburb of Deer Creek. Over the last four years, she felt she had accomplished a lot. Ellie loved the shelves full of old and new books, the thick carpet where she held weekly readings for the neighborhood children and the old, carved wood trim that graced the entire building. It had become her place of retreat and safety. She played the role of shopkeeper/librarian and she loved it.

"Who needs a man? The one I want probably doesn't exist anyway." Ellie thought as she waved to Chrissy. Then she grabbed her purse, adjusted the lights and security for the night and locked the door. She looked through the glass on the heavy door. She loved the old building and the fact that it was located in a quiet residential neighborhood, close to home. As she walked down the front steps she inhaled deeply. The scent of spring flowers filled the air. Ellie loved spring, the feeling that everything was new and fresh. She had a strong urge to skip down the block, but was stopped by a shouted greeting from behind her.

"Hey, Mrs. Hart! Guess what?"

Ellie smiled and waved at the young man approaching. Bobby looked tough: his long, dark hair, bound by the bandana that marked his gang affiliation, brushed the shoulders of the black leather jacket only she and his mother knew was a gift from his Air Force-hero-dad. He was one of her favorite students. "Hi Bobby. How are you? Have you heard yet?"

Bobby's grin practically split his freckled face. "You got it teach! I've been accepted! Can you believe it? Drop out Draper on his way to college! They even offered me a scholarship!"

Ellie gave the young man a quick hug. "That's fantastic news Bobby. You know I expect to hear from you regularly. Right?"

Bobby grinned broadly. "You bet. Look, I've got to go get packed and get my stuff together. I'm going to stay with my aunt until school starts in the Fall. Thanks for all your help Mrs. Hart. This would never have happened without you."

Ellie shook her head. "You've always had the potential and the talent, Bobby. Now you get to show it off."

Bobby nodded, pulled the well-worn rag from his head and handed it to her. "This is for you, Mrs. Hart, a trophy. I won't need it anymore." Bobby laughed at the stunned expression on the woman's face and left before she found her tongue.

* * *

The watcher sighed as he caught sight of the dark-haired lady locking up the bookstore for the evening. She was one of those classically beautiful women, nice too. He spoke to her only yesterday when he bought that book on native plants. She could be the one.

He held a rose he had picked from the botanical garden earlier today. Sarah wasn't the one; but this one, this Mrs. Hart, she could be the one; the perfect lady of Chicago. His fingers stroked the soft petals of the rose as he watched her stop to take a deep breath of fresh Spring air. So full of life ... He had followed her home yesterday, seen her children at the windows. The blond with the big mouth at the bookstore had told him Mrs. Hart was a widow.

His eyes observed her every move. Elana Hart was classy. She would take her hair down for him. He would run his fingers through her soft tresses. She would step into his embrace and sigh when he kissed her.

Not like Sarah, pretty Sarah; she had laughed in his face when he proposed. Sarah had screamed when he kissed her. She had tried to call the police, but he had wrapped the cord of the telephone around the soft flesh of her neck and held her until the scream was silenced. The rose he had given her lay crushed; the petals scattered across her breasts like a red lace shawl.

In front of the store, a young man approached the lady from the bookstore. The watcher tensed, his hands balled into fists. "No! Not her too!"

Then the young man turned; it was one of Mrs. Hart's students in that literacy class she held weekly. It was only natural she should speak with him. He must have passed the entrance exam they were all talking about. All the regular customers knew about him. The poor kid was so excited about it. Now he would be leaving for college. He was too young for her anyway.

The watcher sighed in relief. He looked down and blinked. In his palm lay the rose, crushed and broken. It had been so perfect ...

* * *

Aaron McCord frowned as he glanced down at the direction in his hand. His gray eyes flashed as he thought over the conversation he'd had with the overbearing Mrs. Cheryl Smythe. He didn't like this whole thing, but somehow he'd gotten himself elected to serve on the Grace College Scholarship committee this year. Aaron snorted. It was supposed to have been an honorary position. No real work involved.

Then Cheryl saw that name, one in a stack of nearly a hundred applications. She'd almost exploded. Now, he was expected to check it out. As if his being District Attorney made it more legitimate to conduct unwarranted investigations into the lives of private citizens. How ludicrous!

True, he did want to protect the high standards of the college, but he didn't even know if Cheryl had her facts straight. This girl, he glanced down at the paper next to him on the seat, Hannah, seemed like the perfect candidate, on paper at least. Of course it wasn't Hannah Cheryl Smythe objected to, but her mother, Elana Hart, nee Brant.

Hours

M&T 10-8 W 10-3 Th-Sat 10-8 Closed Sunday

Aaron was disappointed to find the little bookstore closed for the evening. He had wanted to make quick work of this 'investigation'. Now he'd have to make the time to come back.

What kind of woman was Mrs. Elana Hart? All Cheryl would say was that she believed Mrs. Hart to be some sort of high-class prostitute and that she had been a disreputable person since high school. He recalled Cheryl's nasal tones. "No Aaron dear, I haven't actually seen her since we graduated. She ran off to somewhere in the west and didn't return until about four years ago. This child of hers is likely illegitimate and ..."

Aaron had arched one eyebrow. "You know, Cheryl, a lot can change in what, twenty years? You wouldn't be holding a grudge for something that happened between you two in high school, would you?"

Color had flooded Cheryl's cherubic cheeks. "Well of course not, Aaron! I would just hate to see the reputation of our beloved school threatened by scandal."

Aaron would have discouraged her further, but the other members, swayed by the sizable yearly donations of the Smythe family, made an executive decision to back Cheryl's request. Wouldn't want to threaten the school funding ...

The store, what he could see through the window of the door looked, well, homey, welcoming in the early evening twilight. The center of the large room was bare except for a thick carpet and two chairs. There seemed to be a kitchenette in the office behind the counter to the right.

Aaron's stomach rumbled, reminding him he'd missed lunch for the meeting of the Scholarship committee. "Great, now I'll get to waste another day on this ridiculous project."

He stuck his hands in his pants' pockets and turned away from the dark-wooded door with the old-fashioned brass handle.

"Hey Mister!" A small boy called to him, breaking in on his thoughts of lost meals. "The bookstore's closed right now. Miss Ellie won't be back till tomorrow."

Aaron faced the child and sat down on the steps in front of the store. "Do you know 'Miss Ellie' well?"

The boy, who was about ten, straddled the seat of an old, red bike. "Everybody knows Miss Ellie." He spoke with a big smile. "She's real nice." His cheeks grew ruddy.

Aaron raised one eyebrow. "So what's your name?"

"Me? I'm Chucky. I live down the street. We look out for each other here; you know, a neighborhood watch kind of thing."

Aaron nodded. "That's a very good thing to do, Chucky. Tell me, does Miss Ellie do a lot of business?"

Chucky nodded, the baseball cap he wore slid sideways on his head. "Oh yeah, she does pretty good, I guess. People in and out a lot. My mom says Miss Ellie works real hard and I shouldn't pester her. Sometimes she stays late, but she always goes home early on Wednesdays."

"Do a lot of men shop here too?" Aaron still wasn't sure there was anything going on; as a matter of fact, he doubted it.

Chucky shrugged. "Sure, lots of guys too. It's not just a girl place you know. Books are cool. Well, I gotta go. My mom said to be home by six. See ya!"

Aaron watched the boy zoom down the sidewalk and turn into a yard about half a block away. Aaron smiled. "Nice kid."

Monday evening Aaron sat in his office staring at the pictures on the wall, wishing he could be anywhere but here. Everything that could go wrong today had. Two cases were thrown out due to improper police procedure. He was forced to ask Judge 'Hurry Up Henson' for a continuance in another case, when the Defense came up with new evidence he needed to study. Henson practically threatened to find him in contempt of court. And, to top it all off, the call from Mrs. Smythe had him thinking about throwing her from the tallest building he could find ...

"Aaron dear," Her tone reminded him of his eccentric Aunt Bernice, who seemed to think everyone was an errant child in need of a lecture. "How is our little investigation progressing? I was under the impression you were going to keep me informed."

"Yes Cheryl, as soon as there is anything to inform you of, I will be happy to do so. However, I am the District Attorney and I can't spend all my time on this particular investigation. So please, be patient."

Aaron sighed at her whining reply. "Yes ma'am as soon as possible. As a matter of fact, just this afternoon I received a report detailing her movements this past week and some background information."

He rubbed his aching temples. Mrs. Cheryl Smythe was such a pain. He sat, staring at the file in front of him. If his investigator, Ben Stuart was right, 'Miss Ellie' was not only not a prostitute, she was practically a saint.

"Come on, Ben, no one's that good!" Aaron muttered under his breath. If this lady was a call girl, she sure hid it well. He glanced back down at the first page of the report. The only things even remotely problematic were that she owned both her own home and the building the bookstore was in, free and clear. Then there were five pictures taken in or near the store featuring Elana Hart and a man, always in a one on one conversation and never the same man twice. Their ages ranged from sixty-something to early twenties. One of them looked a little rough around the edges. Aaron stared at the report. Okay, maybe he should go back to the store tomorrow.

* * *

Ellie didn't even look up as the chimes rang, signaling another customer's arrival. Her assistant Chrissy, was at the desk if anyone needed help. Ellie continued reading aloud, the story of an elephant hatching an egg, to the ten children seated across the plush carpet at her feet. Tuesday afternoons were her favorite time of the week at the store. She loved choosing just the right book and reading to the children who came to listen. Dr. Seuss was always a hit and giggles erupted from the children as the story continued.

Aaron observed from the front desk as Mrs. Hart read with great enthusiasm to the children seated around her. She was so involved she didn't notice how several wisps of hair escaped from the tight bun at the nape of her neck to brush against her cheek, framing her face. She didn't look like a prostitute. Of course she didn't look like she'd had five kids either. But she was obviously good with the children here and they seemed to enjoy her as well.

Elana Hart was a fine looking lady, all grace and poise. The look of delight on her face as she read made Aaron's pulse quicken. He wondered what it would be like to free her hair from that knot and let it slide through his fingers, if her lips were as soft and sweet as they looked. She was the kind of woman he'd always believed would be the ideal wife. He would happily come home early every night if someone like Elana Hart were waiting for him.

Chrissy had introduced herself to the tall, well-dressed stranger and he had asked her about a certain book, but then he stopped, seemingly enthralled by Ellie's performance. Chrissy watched him slyly as she priced some new acquisitions. He would be perfect for Ellie. If only she could get Ellie to notice him ...

Chrissy pursed her lips. This man wouldn't be needing any reading lessons, so that was out. She sighed, there had to be something she could do. Of course a man like him would probably want someone a little less conservative; Ellie could be such a stick-in -the- mud.

Aaron had just decided he should leave when Chrissy approached him. Her voice over his left shoulder startled him. "She's something else, isn't she?" Chrissy spoke quietly so as not to disturb the reading circle. "Got kids of your own?"

Aaron shook his head.

"Great!" Thought Chrissy. "No ring on his finger either."

"You know," Chrissy continues out loud. "She looks even better all dressed up."

Aaron turned his head to stare at the woman standing behind him as she continued to speak.

"I mean you'd never believe how different she can be when she lets her hair down." Chrissy winked at his startled expression and with a conspiratorial smile, walked back toward the office.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from A Vision of Rosesby Deborah Cole Copyright © 2009 by Deborah Cole. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Publication date: 2009
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1438993064
• ISBN 13: 9781438993065
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 260