Angel's Rest(48)

As he watched Davenport power down the bird, he tried to banish all thought of Nicole Sullivan from his mind. The last thing he needed was to spill those particular beans to Jack.

Knowing his friend, he went into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on to brew. Jack strolled inside a few moments later, and as a way of saying hello, asked, “What do you have to eat in this shack?”

“How about a Denver omelet? Appropriate, wouldn’t you say?” Gabe was finally hungry himself.

“Excellent choice. I’ll chop peppers. You do the onions.”

As Gabe handed over bell peppers from the fridge, he decided that Jack Davenport must have been born giving orders. A tall man with movie-star looks—Jen used to say that he had no choice but to become a spy because he looked so much like a young Sean Connery—Jack was the definition of a leader of men. Brilliant, decisive, cold-blooded when the situation required, and loyal to a fault, Jack earned the respect of everyone who knew him. Gabe would gladly follow him into any battle.

After breakfast, he followed him into the great room, where Jack sat in an overstuffed easy chair, kicked off his shoes, and crossed his feet at the ankles atop an ottoman. He eyed the boxer, who hadn’t bothered to lift his head off the dog bed Gabe had added to the room’s decor. “Looks like I need to charge you a pet deposit. What’s his name? Lazy?”

“He’s a stray who won’t stay away. Not my place to name him.”

Davenport snorted, then sipped his coffee and sighed with satisfaction. “Eagle’s Way is one of my favorite houses. I should spend more time here.”

“How many houses do you have?”

“Four, domestically. If you count internationally, that brings it up to six.”

“That’s obscene.”

“Hey, you don’t have room to talk. You’re no pauper.”

“I don’t have six houses.”

Jack shrugged. “What can I say? It’s the life of an international playboy.”

Now it was Gabe’s turn to snort. Jack Davenport was the most dedicated, hardworking American patriot Gabe had ever known.

He wondered when Jack would get around to telling him why he’d come to Colorado on Christmas Day. He had no intention of asking. Experience had taught him that Jack Davenport did things at his own pace, and that the fastest way to get the information he wanted was to keep his mouth shut.

“What can you tell me about Celeste Blessing?” Jack asked.

Okay, he’d surprised Gabe with that. “What do you want to know?”

“I read the local rag. I know about the spa venture and that she talked you into some design work. What sort of person is she? Is she a player?”

Gabe considered the question. “She’s unique,” he finally replied. “I like her a lot. I’ve never seen her be anything but kind. I wouldn’t call her a player, but I do think there is more to her than meets the eye. She claims to be a retired schoolteacher, but she apparently has serious cash. There’s no denying that she’s been a force for good in this town.”

“Interesting.” Jack took another sip of his coffee, then his mouth twisted with a rueful grin. “I can definitely tell you there is more to her than meets the eye. I don’t know whom she knows, but she managed to track me down.”

“You’re kidding.” Gabe was shocked. Jack fiercely protected his privacy. “I didn’t tell her anything.”

Jack waved that away. “Never thought you did.”

“What did she want?”

“She asked if my family had any journals, diaries, or other written documents that might contain clues about the town’s big mystery.”

“The Cellar Bride?” Gabe pursed his lips and nodded. “Smart thinking. Did you have anything?”

“Possibly. I found a stack of letters from Daniel Murphy to my great-great-grandfather. One of them told of a runaway bride. I didn’t look into it any further. My plate is plenty full from dealing with contemporary murders—I don’t have time to concern myself with historical ones. We’ve had a really sticky situation going on of late with some of your old friends in the Balkans.”

“We should have killed more of those dirtbags when we had the chance.”

“I completely agree. Anyway, I brought the letters with me. Figured the local historical society had more use for them than I do.”

Jack drained his coffee cup, then set it aside. Gabe sensed the change in subject even before his friend said, “Pam called me.”