Beads of Doubt

by Barbara Burnett Smith

  Beth was shaking her head. I said, “I tried to warn her last night, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Nobody listens,” Beth said. “It’s kind of like playing the slot machines: ‘Oh, I won’t get hooked.’ But then they are. I remember when you said to me, ‘I’m only going to make a few bracelets.’ What an understatement.”

  I nodded. “Last year I went through the Bead Show dragging my poor mother along, saying things like, ‘Just one more booth. A few more beads. I need findings!’ ” I turned to Lauren. “You are now addicted.”

  “I am not. I just bought some beads.”

  I started counting out the sacks. “One, two, three, four, five—”

  “I plan on making presents for people.” She put the sacks resolutely on the floor. “I heard Beth talking about the High Jinx when I came in. Why were you talking about that?”

  Now that surprised me. “You know about it?” I asked.

  “Of course. It was one of Andrew’s big investments. Except, I don’t think it was working out.”

  This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to know, and here was Lauren, staying at my house with a store of information in her head that would have taken me hours, maybe days to discover.

  “What do you know about it?” I asked. “It’s a boat, right?”

  “Not really one boat, “ Lauren said. “Andrew formed an investment group that purchased five different yachts. They were in foreclosure, and the charter company that owned them was called High Jinx Charters.”

  Lauren really did have an amazing memory. She knew about all five of the yachts, size, condition, type of boat, and other details that were frankly fascinating.

  The yacht that the company was named after, the High Jinx, was a seventy-two-foot Irwin ketch that had four staterooms, crew space, fourteen overhead hatches, and twenty portholes.

  “How can you remember the number of portholes?” I asked.

  “I like odd facts, and you have to admit, those are pretty odd.”

  She even knew the colors that were being used to redo the staterooms on each yacht, and some of the other repair needs. The ketch needed fiberglass repair, the teak stripped and restained, new sails including a spinnaker, all new fittings in the kitchen, a new dinghy, and a bottom job. That last one sounded to me like something that overly vain women have done by a plastic surgeon.

  “Those aren’t odd facts,” Beth said. “How do you know all of that?”

  “I made a lot of phone calls to the companies that were doing the work. Besides, I think I developed some kind of lust for the High Jinx. The pictures of her are amazing.” She let out a sigh. “I kept hoping all the investors would want to take her on a maiden cruise and I could come along.”

  Nate picked up the pad. “I assume Lauren can check out the High Jinx.”

  “Really? Go to Galveston and see her? I’d love to,” she said. “On my computer I might even have some of the information on her. What exactly do you want to know?”

  While Lauren was thrilled, I was disappointed. I had wanted to take tomorrow off and drive to Galveston myself. Maybe take Nate along. Stop in Round Top and look at antiques. Spend the night in a hotel on the beach. Separate rooms, of course. Balconies overlooking the bay. Soft music coming from the hotel behind us. A soft wind blowing my hair. My red hair . . .

  I let the fantasy go. It wasn’t going to work no matter how much I wanted it to.

  “We want to know what kind of an investment High Jinx Charters is turning into. Is it profitable? Marinas are busiest on weekends and so are yacht brokers, so you can probably get some good information. Anything you think might be connected to Andrew’s murder.”

  “I can drive or fly, or whatever you want. I can go today. Now, if you like.”

  “Take a plane,” I said. “And today is a great time. I’ll give you a credit card number. You can fly into Hobby and rent a car there. If you need more time, check into a hotel.”

  Lauren started picking up her sacks. “I’ll get on the computer and see what I can find. Maybe I can even get a cheap ticket.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” I said. “Timing is the important thing. It’s a good twenty to twenty-five-minute drive to the airport, even on Sunday without much traffic.”

  “Then I’d better hurry.” She was gone before we could say good-bye.

  “I can get someone to man my booth for a while,” Beth said. “Then I’ll check on that accident.”

  “Accident?” The list that Nate was writing was growing longer. “Is this an automobile accident? Recent vintage?”

  “Years ago,” I said. I would have explained, but my brother Stephen came flying in the back door. Brad Pitt looking distraught. “Stephen,” I said, “are you okay?”

  He stopped dead still. “Sure. Sure. I mean, well, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “I live here,” I reminded him. “You know everyone, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah. Hi.” He vaguely looked around at Nate and Beth. “Nice to see you.” Then he focused on me. “Where’s Katie? I need to talk to her.”

  I couldn’t imagine that he was seeking advice from Katie on how to woo Debby. Talk about two people who were totally different; Katie and Debby hardly spoke the same language, and they certainly traveled to the beat of different drummers.

  “She’s down at the gatehouse with your mother,” Beth said.

  “Great. Talk with you all later—” And he all but ran out the door.

  I looked around the table. “He’s going to be so disappointed,” I said.

  Nate frowned. “Why is that?”

  “Because he obviously didn’t want to talk to me, but I’m going to the gatehouse anyway. Whatever he wants to see Katie about is bound to be interesting. I can’t wait to find out what it is. Nate, do you want to come with me?”

  Twenty

  “There you are!” Stephen snapped. I could hear house. his voice while I was still walking up to the gatehouse.

  “I was in the bathroom,” Katie was saying. “Are you upset about something?”

  “Yes, I am! I want to know what in the hell you were doing, calling up all of the relatives,” Stephen was demanding.

  Hearing his tone, I was glad Nate decided to tour the tent instead of coming with me. No woman wants her family having a yelling match in front of a new male friend.

  Katie sounded stunned. “I was finding out how they are voting on the upcoming corporation vote. And I don’t understand—”

  “I know that. You don’t understand anything. Don’t you think it’s a little rude? Who do you think you are to demand—”

  I stepped in through the glass doors. “I’ll tell you who she is,” I said in my senatorial voice. “She is Katherine Camden, my daughter. Since the upcoming vote might end up putting me out of house and home, I think it’s damned nice of Katie to get involved.”

  “Well, I think it’s disgusting,” he said, dismissing my opinion. “Next she’ll be on The Jerry Springer Show. This isn’t a political election, Kitzi; it’s a family corporation, and she shouldn’t be doing that.”

  I had never noticed before what a snob Stephen is. He certainly has no reason to be one, since he doesn’t have a whole lot going for him except a pretty face. Still, people get the oddest notions about their place in the world. Apparently he is one of those. I know several others, politicians, both at the state and national level.

  Katie was standing tall and rigid. “Well, at least I’m doing something,” she said. “When was the last time you did something of value, Stephen? Or anything at all?”

  She was no longer calling him “Uncle Stephen,” and if the two of them kept at it, they might both do something that would qualify for the Springer show. I glanced around looking for my mother, who wasn’t anywhere in sight, and for my grandchildren, who were also missing. I was glad on both counts.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, holding up both hands. “I appreciate that we have some differences of opinion, so why don’t we sit down
and talk about them. There may be something going on here that we’re not all aware of.”

  “I’m willing,” Katie said. “Obviously I’m not aware of much of anything, since I just came out of the bathroom and he was here accusing me of things.”

  At that point Stephen made what was nearly a fatal blunder: he raised his index finger and shook it less than a foot away from Katie’s face. “You have a lot of growing up to do, and a lot to learn about how our family operates—”

  “And you, Stephen,” I said, “are full of it. Not only that, you are the one who has a lot of growing up to do. How are you going to like it when Houston kicks Mother out of this house? Can she come live with you? Will you take care of her? Will Debby cook for her? See, it’s not quite as simple as you thought, is it?”

  In retrospect it’s obvious that Katie and I both slammed Stephen pretty hard, but he did have a chance to end the hostilities peacefully and he chose not to.

  Stephen’s handsome face flushed a dangerous red. “I don’t know why I bothered even trying to talk to you. You have no idea what’s appropriate for the Camden family—or for the Manse.”

  My internal radar started blipping. “What do you mean, what’s appropriate for the Manse? You can’t mean the Bead Tea . . .”

  Katie put her hands on her hips. “Do you have something to do with Houston’s little scheme to put Mother and Grandmother—your own mother, Stephen—out of her family home?”

  He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “What? Where did you hear that?”

  “So you don’t?” Katie folded her arms and stared him down like a schoolmistress. “I’m glad to hear it. Because if you do, I can’t think of any snake with its belly lower to the ground than yours.”

  Stephen took a step back. “I don’t know why I even bothered to come here. Obviously neither of you has any interest in maintaining a reasonable level of . . . of decorum, and then you start bandying about insults . . .” He stared at me. “You seem to think this is some kind of Senate game, where you can buy off the votes. Well, this is the Camden family, not some bunch of sleazy politicians.”

  “I’m sure Grandfather would be delighted to hear your characterization of politicians,” I said coolly.

  He stood staring at both of us for a moment. “You’re . . . you’re both impossible!” he spluttered. Then he stormed out of the gatehouse, slamming the door behind him.

  As his retreating back disappeared behind the house, I turned to Katie. “What do you think that was all about?”

  Katie bit her lip. “I don’t know. But I think we should probably step up the search for an attorney.”

  By the time I got back to the kitchen, Stephen was long gone. Beth eyed me over a laptop as I pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and poured myself a big glass. I would have preferred a glass of Muscovito, but it was a little early to crack open a bottle of booze.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” I said. “I don’t care if it is Sunday—I’m calling Gregg Jacques right now.”

  Beth’s eyes widened. “You don’t think Stephen’s—”

  “Gone to the other side?” I took a big swig of iced tea. It wasn’t Muscovito, but it helped. “I’m not sure,” I said. “He told me I had no idea what was right for the Manse, which makes me suspicious. And did I tell you he asked to borrow money from me the other day?”

  “What for?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Do you think he got mixed up in Andrew’s little investment club?”

  I sighed. “I know he’s trying to win back Debby.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “The material girl?”

  “Exactly. So if Andrew promised a big return, I can imagine Stephen might go for it.”

  “But what does that have to do with the Manse?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this, which is why I’m going to see if I can engage the services of a big-gun attorney right now. Whatever happens, I’m going to be ready.”

  “On Sunday?”

  “On Sunday.”

  “Well, before you go charging off, I need a little info from you.”

  I suddenly realized that Beth was scheduled to be at her booth right now. “I forgot to ask: did you get someone to watch the booth for you?”

  “My friend Delta was happy to do it. I figured I’d take an hour or two and see what I could turn up.” She nodded toward the small computer on the table in front of her.

  My eyebrows went up. “When did you get a laptop?”

  “Lauren let me borrow hers. Now, when did the accident happen? The one that killed the Yancys’ grandson.”

  “Let’s see . . . Andrew was in college, and he’s—he was thirty-one, so I guess that would put it at ten to fifteen years ago.”

  “What was the boy’s name?”

  “The one who died? Donovan. I don’t know if his last name was Yancy, but the first name is unusual.”

  “How about the other one, the one who ended up in a wheelchair?”

  Another good question. “That’s one of the things I was hoping to find out.”

  “Anything else that might help?”

  At that moment, a woman with a big tray of mini quiches staggered into the kitchen. “Is there room in the fridge for these?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Just scoot things out of the way if you need to.”

  “Would you like one?”

  Even though I had just polished off two breakfast tacos, I couldn’t turn down quiche. Besides, after my run-in with Stephen, I needed some caloric support. “Would I ever.” I snagged two and turned to Beth. “Want one?”

  “I’m dieting, remember?”

  I shrugged. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “Don’t tempt me. I’ve got forty-five more pounds to go. But on the accident, is there anything else?

  I sighed. “Sorry, Beth. I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got.” I popped the second quiche into my mouth and helped the young woman with the tray rearrange the bottom shelf. Then I retreated to my office to call Gregg. I’d feel better knowing my affairs were in the hands of a talented attorney. Besides, if I was lucky, I might even get him to share the rest of the story he started at the Texas hold ’em tournament.

  I wasn’t lucky. Gregg’s voice mail picked up, both at his office and on his cell phone. Which wasn’t surprising, since it was Sunday. I guessed it made sense; even high-powered lawyers need a day off from time to time.

  I left a message and hung up. A moment later, I made one more phone call.

  “Jacqueline? It’s Kitzi Camden.”

  “Kitzi! How the heck are you? It’s been ages.” When I was in the Senate, Jacqueline Pacitti had been my best researcher; if I wanted to know something, whether it was the governor’s favorite brand of boots or the voting record of one of the other senators, all I had to do was call her, and she’d find everything I needed—and then some.

  “I know. I hate to bother you, but I wondered if you could look something up for me? I’d do it myself, but I’m stumped.”

  “Shoot.”

  I told her everything I knew about High Jinx Charters. “But please, don’t say anything to anyone about it.”

  “How fast do you need it?”

  “As fast as you can get it.”

  “Well, it’s Sunday, so most of my contacts won’t be in, but I know of a few databases that might help.”

  “Thanks, Jackie. Why don’t you and Eric plan on coming over to dinner soon? It’s been too long.”

  “That would be wonderful. We can talk about old times!”

  I gave her my home number and my cell number, and Sinatra leaped into my lap as I set down the phone. Beth was looking up the accident, Lauren was headed to Galveston, Jacqueline was researching High Jinx Charters, and I was at loose ends. I was about to go down to the kitchen and forage for another mini quiche when Nate appeared in the doorway. My heart rate picked up a few notches at hi
s lazy smile.

  “Beth said I’d find you here. How’d things go with your brother?” he asked.

  I sighed. “I was just on the phone trying to get through to Gregg.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

  “Heaven will direct it,” he said. I was impressed; it’s not often you find a man who not only recognizes a quote from Hamlet but who can also come back with the next line. Then he grinned. “But I suspect in this case, heaven will get a little help.”

  I sighed. “He said something about my not knowing what was best for the Manse that made me suspicious.”

  Nate’s eyes darkened. “You think he’s involved with Houston on this?”

  I reached down and scratched Sinatra’s chin. “I don’t know. But right now, I’m at an impasse. Beth’s looking up the accident, Lauren’s chasing down the High Jinx, and I’m spinning my wheels.”

  Nate crossed the room and rounded the desk. I swear I could hear the sparks crackle as he put his hands on my shoulders and began to rub. My tense muscles softened into butter under his strong fingers.

  “There must be something we can do,” he said.

  “You’re already doing it,” I purred. My hand stopped scratching. Sinatra huffed and jumped off my lap, stalking out of the office.

  I leaned back into the chair, enjoying Nate’s closeness, thinking maybe I should just let things go for the day, when he said, “Have you looked at the guest list yet?”

  “The guest list?”

  “Didn’t Granger ask for it? It might give us at least a few leads.”

  I sighed again. “I already went through it with Granger, but there’s a chance I might have missed something.”

  “I’ll bet Judy has a copy.”

  “You’re right! Let’s head down to the tent.” I wasn’t convinced we’d learn anything, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing. Our bodies brushed as I slipped past him to the door, and a zing went through me. Even if we didn’t find anything on the guest list, I could think of worse things than spending an hour or so in close quarters with Nate.