Nonna stood. That was one thing about my grandmother. When she won a campaign, she didn’t linger. “All right. We’ll set up the email chain, and everyone can look at their schedules. Gerty and I believe we should meet once a week, and we’re more than happy to work around your calendars. I’ll be in touch.”
Everyone stood. Okay. That wasn’t so difficult.
Gerty looked at her watch. “Oh my. We have to get back, Elda. We have a Lady Elks meeting in forty-five minutes.”
Nonna tucked her monstrous purse against her flowered shirt. “You’re right. Oh my. Let’s go.” Then she hesitated. “Tessa.”
Gerty gasped. “That’s right. We picked Contessa up on the way here. Nick, would you—”
“Sure, Grams.” Nick obviously knew when to give up the fight. “I’m happy to give Tessa a ride home.”
Nonna clapped her hands together. “That’s fabulous since Anna said she has a client coming. We’ll walk you two out.” Yeah, she was making sure Nick didn’t dump Tessa on me. She was one smart woman.
Tessa followed our grandmother and avoided looking at Nick. Zena barked and trotted along behind her. The dog no doubt felt the tension.
Tessa looked down. “I can take Zena, if you want.”
It sounded like she wanted to take the dog, and I didn’t blame her. “Sure. You go ahead and have fun.”
“I’ll call you later,” Tess said.
Oh, I just bet she would. I kept my smile at bay until they’d left, and only then did I let myself chuckle for a few moments before grabbing a glass of water and moving back to my office. It was surprising that Kurt hadn’t returned yet, but I had promised to stay in the office, and Kelsey had been wearing a short dress, so maybe he was offering comfort to her. She had mentioned getting ice cream.
I researched a couple of timber trespass statutes before Oliver called to say my four p.m. appointment had arrived and he’d bring the gentleman back. I was getting accustomed to formality from Czar Oliver. When he arrived at my door with my new client, I stood while setting the water glass down.
“Mr. Smith, this is Ms. Albertini,” Oliver said. Then he turned and disappeared down the hallway.
I couldn’t breathe. My legs went soft and I nearly fell. In my doorway, plain as day, stood Norman Barensky.
The bomber.
Chapter 25
My throat went so dry it hurt. Yet I kept my expression as neutral as I could. “Mr. Smith. It’s nice to meet you.” I gestured to one of my guest chairs.
Barensky’s gray hair looked even thinner in person than in the picture Aiden had shown me. His wrinkled face appeared smaller, and his brown eyes beadier. He sat and smiled with very thin lips. “It’s so kind of you to fit me into your schedule.” His voice was surprisingly soft.
I sat and forced a smile. “We’re building our clientele now, and I’m happy to see you.” I had pens and paper on my desk and would need an excuse to open the drawer to my left and get my gun. “I see from your Timber City Golf Course shirt that you like to golf,” I said, looking him over to see if he had a weapon.
If he did, it was tucked either at the back of his waist beneath a light beige-colored jacket or in an ankle holster. His pants were a loose gray cotton, and his shoes penny loafers, but there could be an upper calf holster out of sight.
“I love to golf,” he said.
“Me, too.” I reached for a pen as my mind kept swirling around. Focus, darn it. “My assistant had a notation next to your name that you’re involved in a boundary dispute?” Why was he in my office? Did he know I was still dating Aiden? Worse yet, did he know that Aiden was ATF? Or was he just doing due diligence and checking out anyone having to do with Aiden and the Lordes?
This was all way above my pay grade.
Barensky set his hands on his legs, and burn marks wound up his left one into the jacket. “I am having a boundary dispute with my neighbor. He has apple trees, and the fruit keeps falling into my yard, which is a problem because the deer then stomp all over my flowers as they understandably eat the apples.”
I tried to proceed as if this was a real case and I wasn’t in danger. Did he walk around with explosives just for fun? Why would anybody choose to create bombs? “I see.” I drew my paper closer and started taking notes. Going for my gun was possible, but what then? He’d know that I knew he was Barensky, and what kind of danger would that put Aiden in? Also, if the police arrested Barensky, what about the person who’d hired him for this campaign in Seattle? I swallowed. “How long has this been going on?” Sweat gathered down my back. Panicky sweat.
“About three years,” Barensky lied.
I dutifully took notes. “How many trees does your neighbor have, and what percentage of the apples end up in your yard?”
“Um, five trees and at least half the apples. The limbs of his trees spread far over our fence.” He seemed genuine, and if I didn’t know better, I’d believe him. The pink scalp showing through his comb-over hinted at a sense of vulnerability.
“Have you talked to your neighbor?” I asked.
