Thanks again to Molly, my beta! You're doing a fabulous job!

Chapter 3

The next morning, when Ian was already at work, Della slipped into her coat, wrapped her scarf around her neck, and left the house. As expected it had started snowing, but the ground wasn't frozen yet and so the crystal flakes had no chance to survive.

The Inn wasn't far and Della strode down the road using the time outside to calm down. She was nervous and what should be her stomach had formed into a annoying tight knot. She had no idea what to expect from the man she intended to see, but maybe he felt the same way about her as well. The one good thing about being involved in murder cases was she had learnt to see both sides of the coin.

The snow fall grew heavier and she quickened her pace, pulling the scarf higher to protect her face. Five minutes later she had reached the small hotel in the heart of the small town. Obviously the owner had invested a lot of money in the renovation of the building, because it looked much more elegant than she remembered it from the past. Della took her scarf off and went straight to the reception where a young woman was busy sorting the mail.

"Excuse me, please. I want to see Mr. Richard Street. Can you tell me his room number?"

The young woman looked up. Della didn't know her; another young addition to town it seemed. The woman checked her guest book and said: "Sorry, but we only have a Richard Straight registered here."

"Then it's Mr. Straight."

"Room 105. First floor on the left side."

"Thank you."

She turned and went upstairs. When she raised her clenched fist to knock at the door she drew a deep breath. Then her fist hit the cold wood and she waited with a quickly bumping heart. A blonde woman opened the door. Della estimated her a bit younger than herself.

"Good morning. I would like to talk to Richard," Della simply said and earned a smile from the woman. She looked nice. Nicer than Della wanted her to be. "You must be Della. Come in. He's expecting you."

PD

"So why did she leave?" Paul asked impatiently. He sat in front of Perry's desk, smoking a cigarette.

"A family matter," Perry answered without looking up from his file. "As she told you."

"Is someone ill? Mae, her brother?" Paul insisted.

"No one's ill."

Paul sighed annoyed. Perry's mood wasn't the best. On the contrary, the lawyer seemed grumpier than ever.

"And when will she be back?"

"I don't know and neither does she."

"So there's trouble ahead." Paul concluded. "Maybe I should try to find out what's going on."

Perry looked up and shook his head. "No, Paul. Apparently she doesn't want help. Leave her alone."

Paul was stunned. He had never heard Perry talking like that when it came to Della. Then he remembered the day before and suddenly said: "Well, I hope your agony over your secretary has nothing to do with your visitor from yesterday." Paul gave Perry a meaningful glance.

"Laura?" Perry asked surprised and this time Paul had the feeling he had definitely caught Perry's attention.

"Yes."

"Laura has already left town."

"She'd better. I never thought someone like her could be your type." Paul rose and went to the back door.

"And what is this supposed to mean?" Perry asked suspicious.

"The lady reminds me of the weather in the mountains these days," Paul answered with the door knob in his hand. "Damn cold. See you later."

PD

Della recognized the man immediately. Even if his physical appearance had changed over the years she still knew the eyes. They were hers. The same big, hazelnut coloured eyes.

"My Della," he said dreamily and rose from his chair. Before Della had entered he and the woman had apparently enjoyed breakfast. Now the newspaper he had read lay over the plate with the food he no longer cared about.

"I knew you would come. You were always the reasonable one."

"Actually, I'm the curious one," she admitted weakly, keeping her distance from him. "Why?"

"Why what?" He asked back.

"Why are you here?"

He didn't answer. The blonde woman attempted to leave the room, but Richard stopped her. "Pauline! Please stay. Della, this is Pauline, my wife. Pauline, that's my daughter, Della."

Pauline remained in the room, but was obviously uneasy with it. "Please… you haven't seen each other for what… twenty years?"

"Twenty five," Della said. "Twenty five years without a word."

"I shouldn't be here," Pauline decided and left the hotel room.

"She's very considerate," Richard smiled. "She's a good woman."

"Mom was a good woman, too."

Silence fell and the words hung between them.

"I loved your mother, Della. But it wasn't meant to be." Richard offered her a seat, but she refused. He sat down again, sighing audible.

"How convenient. She died when you left her. First emotionally and two years later we could bury her." She swallowed her rising tears and turned to leave. "I don't even know why I came."

"Because you want answers." Richard said softly. "That's what keeps you going… I read and archive everything I can find about this lawyer and you."

Della stopped dead. "Why are you here?" She repeated her earlier question.

"I'm old, Darling. And I'm ill. I want peace." It was a simple confession that shouldn't touch her, but it did.

"You shouldn't remember your family when it's too late."

"Says the woman who returns home only once a year or only every two years for Christmas?" Richard asked softly. "We aren't so different, you know. We both escape."

She turned, taking a closer look at him. His brown hair had turned grey and the wrinkles in his face spoke from a long, experienced life. It broke her heart to realize how much Ian resembled him. Even their voices sounded similar.

"At least I don't try to be someone else."

"The name change was necessary."

"I'm not talking about names."

"Will you try and listen to me? Sit with me." He stretched his hand out, but she shook her head. "I can't. I had to promise Ian not even to talk to you."

"I thought you're the older one." Richard blinked at her and smiled. But his attempt to break the ice only made it worse for her. He had always blinked like this at her when she had been a child. She withdrew and then she escaped the room.

"Della!" He yelled after her and followed her with the strength he could mobilize into the hallway, but she had already reached the bottom of the staircase and run out of the hotel.

The heavy snowfall was blinding her. Ice cold snowflakes hit her face and she struggled to hide her face behind her scarf. Then she heard someone calling her. She turned and saw a car stopping next to her. It was Ben.

"Della? What for heaven's sake are you doing here?" He yelled through the open window and pushed the door of the passenger seat open for her. "Climb in!"

She didn't hesitate and climbed into the car. It was pleasantly warm inside.

"You didn't listen to Ian when he said you ought to stay away from Richard, right?" He seemed amused.

"I don't need Ian to tell me what to do," Della said.

"Is that how people survive in L.A.?"

"Maybe. I know a lot of people are dying there," she remarked bitterly.

"Yes, a nasty business you work in."

"It's interesting," she admitted.

"May I take you home or somewhere else?" He started the car.

"That depends on where somewhere else is." She wasn't in the mood to face Aunt Mae. Not now.

"Alright. How about some lunch?"

Since she had skipped breakfast, the idea didn't sound too bad. She gave him a sidelong glance. Ben and Ian had attended school together. He was a few years younger than she was. Did that matter? Not really… she was used to gossip that surrounded her person.

"Lunch sounds good."

"Great. I know a good place with clean napkins and good food. It's not L.A. style, but…"

Della just smiled and cut him quickly off. "Sounds perfect to me."

~tbc~

Let me know what you think? Any ideas who the victim will be? Oh and... what do you think of Ben?