Midnight Jewels

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Went swimming.”

  Mercy tugged on Croft’s wrist. She kept the towel-wrapped Valley as discreetly out of the way as she could. Holding the book, the towel and her wet skirts in a tangled mass helped minimize the odd shape under the large, thick terrycloth. “Let’s keep moving, honey. We don’t want you disgracing yourself in the middle of the party.”

  Croft gave his new acquaintances a knowing grin. “She’s trying to get me upstairs so I can seduce her.”

  “Croft!”

  “Okay, okay, honey. I’m on my way. Don’t want to keep you waiting.”

  He had one wet boot on the first step that led up to the second level of the house when Isobel Ascanius appeared in the hall. She stared at the couple on the stairs, her eyes sharp and questioning.

  “Mercy? What’s wrong? You’re both soaking wet. Are you all right?”

  “Hi, Izzy,” Croft said good-naturedly, his words sounding slightly more slurred. “Is that a new pilot suit? Looks great. Oughta set a whole new trend.”

  “Ignore him,” Mercy said with a sigh. “He’s bombed out of his skull. Decided to take a midnight swim and nearly drowned in the process. I’m going to take him upstairs and put him to bed.”

  Isobel looked at Mercy. “Do you need any help with him?”

  “No,” said Croft before Mercy could decline. “She doesn’t need any help with me. Just a little practice, is all. I’m gonna see she gets plenty of practice.” He leaned forward confidentially and nearly fell over. “Mercy’s a little shy, you know. Kind of inhibited ‘bout some things, if you know what I mean. But she’s learning.”

  Mercy clamped a hand over his mouth. “That’s enough out of you,” she hissed. “You’re embarrassing me.” He gazed at her over the edge of her palm, a ludicrously hurt expression in his eyes as Mercy turned to Isobel.

  “Please excuse us, Isobel. This is so humiliating. I’m going to take him straight upstairs to bed and let him sleep it off.”

  “I didn’t realize he had had that much to drink.”

  “He doesn’t hold his liquor well.”

  There was a “humph” of protest from behind Mercy’s hand. She felt Croft’s tongue on her palm and hastily removed her fingers. He smiled in triumph, satisfied with the small victory.

  “Behave yourself,” Mercy snapped. She turned back to Isobel, still clutching the hidden book against her wet skirt. She tried to stand at an angle, using Croft’s body to shield the woman’s gaze from the towel. “If you’ll make our apologies to Erasmus?”

  “Of course. You’re sure you don’t need any help?”

  “No, thanks. I can manage.” She started up the stairs and Croft followed obediently, his body still hiding most of her slender frame. He waved at Isobel until she was out of sight.

  “Hell of a pilot,” he said as Mercy pushed him down the hall and into the suite.

  “If you’re so enthralled with her, why did you get drunk at her party and make a fool of yourself?” Mercy began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “I’m not enthralled. Just making an observation. She’s a good pilot. I think I’m enthralled with you, though.” He looked down at Mercy as she shoved the wet shirt off his shoulders and went to work on the buckle of his belt. “It works better if you take the boots off first.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Thoroughly irritated, but even more thoroughly scared, Mercy shoved him down to a sitting position on the bed and knelt in front of him. She set Valley down beside him.

  Croft ignored the book. “You gonna undress me and throw yourself on my body?”

  “No. I’m going to throw you in the shower.”

  “I’m already wet.”

  “We’re both cold. We need a quick, hot shower and fresh clothes. And we need to hurry.” She finally got his boots off and hastily rose. “Take off your pants and get into the shower.”

  He frowned and fumbled with his zipper. “Need help.”

  “Oh, Lord, I can’t believe this.” Her own fingers were trembling, partly with cold, partly with her frantic concern as she unzipped his trousers and helped him step out of them. It was not an easy task. Croft kept having trouble with his balance. For some reason that genuinely alarmed him.

  “I’m not drunk,” he muttered as he lurched, naked, through the bathroom doorway. “Can’t be drunk. Never get drunk. Never. Can’t risk it. Might turn out like my dad. Might hurt someone I don’t want to hurt. I never drink too much.”

  Mercy stared at him, listening to his mumbled protest. It occurred to her again that he was probably right. He couldn’t be drunk. Croft had had a mission tonight. The last thing he would have done was have too much to drink before tackling the vault.

  She caught his arm just as he was about to step into the shower. “Croft, if you haven’t had too much to drink, what’s wrong with you?”

  “Goddamn it, don’t know” He put a hand to his head. “Feel dizzy.”

  Mercy waited no longer. She reached for one of the paper cups that was housed in a dispenser beside the sink, filled it with water and handed it to him. “Here, start drinking.”

  “Not thirsty.” But he took the cup and drank.

  When he was finished, she filled it again and made him consume the liquid. He started to protest when she refilled it a third time.

  “Nο more,” he muttered. “Feel sick.”

  “Good, that’s exactly how I want you to feel. But first I want to dilute whatever was used to poison you. Then you can be sick to your heart’s content. We’ll try to get out whatever’s left in your stomach. Drink the water, Croft.”

  He stared at her over the rim of the cup. “Poison?” “If you really aren’t drunk, then you must have been poisoned or drugged. Hurry.”

  He finished the third glass of water and made a face. “Now what?”

  “Now I get to stick my finger down your throat and make you gag.”

  Croft swung suddenly toward the porcelain bowl. “I don’t think you’re gonna have to use your finger,” he said.

  Mercy steadied him while he was thoroughly and violently ill.

  Isobel went in search of Gladstone. When she found him she drew him off to one side. She knew he wasn’t going to be pleased.

  “She got him out of the pool before he drowned, but he’s pretty far gone,” Isobel said quickly. “She thinks he’s drunk and she’s taking him upstairs to put him to bed.”

  Gladstone’s eyes burned for a moment. “He should be dead by now. It was supposed to look like a simple drowning accident. A drunk guest slips and falls into the pool. Nothing to worry about at an autopsy.”

  “I know. Something went wrong.”

  “I do not like incompetence.”

  “Dallas or Lance failed. Whichever one of them slipped away for a moment to knock Falconer unconscious and toss him into the pool bungled the job.”

  “He should have made certain Falconer was dead!”

  “He couldn’t hang around the pool for more than a minute or two,” Isobel reminded him. “That was the plan, remember? If the authorities were to ask embarrassing questions somebody here at the party might have noticed that one of the hired hands was missing for a critical few minutes. It had to happen very quickly. Besides, Falconer should have been unconscious when he went into the pool. He should have drowned without any further assistance!”

  “Ι do not tolerate failure.”

  “This failure can be remedied,” Isobel assured him.

  “It had better be remedied. I do not like the way things are going. Falconer should not have escaped the trap. The drug should have given him all the symptoms of drunkenness.”

  It did. He seems very obviously inebriated. The problem was that Pennington pulled him out of the pool before he drowned.

  “Keep an eye on Falconer and Pennington.”

  Isobel nodded. “Of course, b
ut it’s doubtful they’re going anywhere. Falconer can barely stand. Soon he won’t be able to do even that. In any event they can’t get away without us knowing it. If they try, they will only make things easier for us. A drunk, a car and a mountain road. All the ingredients needed for an unfortunate accident. It might, in the end, be the simplest way. It will take care of both of them at once.”

  Gladstone nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. It might indeed be the simplest way. Did Falconer get into the vault?”

  “No. It’s still locked. Dallas just checked.”

  Gladstone nodded again. “Excellent.”

  Chapter 14

  Croft was shaking by the time Mercy got him into the shower. Beneath the natural bronze of his skin he was pale. His eyes were stark in his harsh face and it was obvious that the sheer force of his will was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

  But he seemed to be thinking more clearly. At least that was what Mercy told herself as she stripped off her own wet clothes and got into the shower beside him. The hot water felt good. She realized just how chilled she had gotten.

  Croft watched enigmatically as she stepped into the shower. “I get the feeling you’re not here to join me in some fun and games.” He stood braced against the tiled wall with one hand, letting the water pour down on his head.

  “You’re right. I’m in here to keep you from falling flat on your face.”

  “Why stop me now? I’ve been doing a damn good job of it since this whole thing started. Christ, I can’t believe I screwed up this bad. This job is coming apart the way my last one did three years ago.” He closed his eyes and put out his other hand to help hold himself in an upright position. “What a mess.”

  “You don’t normally screw things up, huh?” Mercy knew he was in no condition to continue the ribald teasing he had been indulging in earlier, but she still felt awkward sharing the shower with him. This was a purely therapeutic effort, she reminded herself as she carefully kept her back to him. As soon as they were both warm, she had to get them out of the house.

  “Three years ago Ι did a fairly good job of screwing up,” Croft said thoughtfully, as if caught up in a sudden need for a dose of self-chastisement. “But other than that and this bit tonight, no, Ι don’t usually screw things up.”

  “Well, aren’t you Mr. Wonder Man.”

  He opened one eye. “You’re mad.”

  “I’m scared.” She reached out and turned off the shower. “Come on, Croft. We’ve got to get out of here. I’ll pack for you while you’re getting dressed.”

  “I don’t think I’m in any condition to drive out of these mountains tonight,” Croft said quietly, watching her as she tossed him a towel.

  “You won’t be driving. I will.”

  “Are you a good driver?”

  “Under the circumstances, I’m the best available.”

  His mouth crooked slightly. “A valid point.”

  Mercy wasn’t sure if his faint smile was caused by the remnants of whatever drug had been used on him or if he found the situation genuinely humorous.

  She quickly finished drying herself, wrapped the towel around her body and then reached out to snatch his towel out of his hands. “That’s enough, you’ll do. Now let’s get you into some dry clothes. The party is still going strong. By now most of the guests are stoned out of their minds on something. I figure we can get downstairs and out to the car without anyone noticing we’re even gone.”

  “I doubt it.” Croft allowed himself to be led out into the bedroom. He was totally unselfconscious of his nudity. He seemed more concerned with the faint trembling in his hands. The weakness obviously alarmed him.

  Mercy shot him a quick, worried glance as she shoved a clean shirt at him. “What do you mean, you doubt it?”

  “Sounds too simple.”

  “But with all these people here, no one would dare try to stop us, even if someone did see us leave. There would be fifty witnesses.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” He started buttoning the shirt, giving the task close attention.

  Mercy was exasperated. “Have you got any better ideas?”

  “No.”

  “That’s just great. Well, until you come up with a spiffier plan, why don’t you quit taking potshots at mine?”

  “It’s a deal. No more potshots at your plan until I can think of a better one. Where are my pants?”

  “Here.” She tossed him a pair of jeans with one hand as she dragged his small overnight bag out of the closet. Quickly she raced through the room, gathering up the few items he had left out of the bag.

  “My boots are wet. I’ll go barefoot.” Croft glanced around the room, frowning intently.

  “All right. I’ll get my things. Stay right here and don’t move, understand?”

  His gaze snapped back to her anxious face. “You can stop treating me as if I were a drunken husband who’s just embarrassed you at a party. My head is clearing.”

  “Don’t worry I’m not in any danger of mistaking you for my husband, drunk or otherwise. Now hold onto this.” She shoved the bag into his hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  She was ready within minutes, her things pushed carelessly into her small suitcase along with the copy of Valley. When she returned to the other room Croft was standing where she had left him. He smiled brightly.

  “I didn’t move.”

  “Do you think you can now?” she asked with concern. He might not be shaking as badly as he had been earlier, but he still looked as though the only thing keeping him on his feet was his willpower and her nagging.

  “Lead the way, boss lady. I still haven’t come up with a better plan.”

  She held out a hand. “Got the car keys?”

  He thought a moment. “In here.” He patted the bag he was holding He unzipped a pocket and handed the keys to her.

  Mercy grabbed them, aware that her fingers were also trembling. Too bad, she chastised herself. She was going to have to drive, anyway. Maybe tomorrow she could find time to have a nervous breakdown, she told herself consolingly. But for the moment it looked as if she was in charge whether she wanted to be or not. Fortunately, Croft was being cooperative. “All right, let’s get this show on the road.”

  The hall outside their suite was still empty when they emerged from the room. The laughter, music and conversation were as loud as ever, floating up through the house. Mercy led Croft down the carpeted hall toward the back stairs.

  They encountered no one en route, but when they slipped out into the cold night air two sleek, dark shapes materialized in front of them.

  “The dogs,” Mercy whispered, halting immediately. “I thought they’d be in their pens.”

  The Dobermans made no sound, but their small, pointed ears were held stiffly alert. They moved closer. Mercy shrank back.

  Croft didn’t move. Instead he extended a hand to the closest Doberman. “Easy boy,” he said softly. “We just came out for a little fresh air.” He kept talking quietly to the animals in a voice that was so soft Mercy could barely hear the words.

  The dogs cocked their heads to one side, listening attentively. Whatever questions they might have had in their canine brains seemed laid to rest by Croft’s quiet words.

  “It’s okay,” Croft finally said to Mercy. “They won’t bother us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I never did like Dobermans,” Mercy whispered as she eased past the watching animals. “They always look like they’re ready to attack.”

  “That’s because they are always ready to attack.”

  “That explains it. How did you get to be such good friends with these two?”

  “Dogs and I get along well. We understand each other.”

  “Maybe you’re in the wrong business. Maybe you should be raising dogs.”

  Mercy and Cro
ft threw their bags into the back seat of the Toyota. Mercy slid into the driver’s seat. She turned the key in the ignition as Croft got in beside her and closed the door. As she started backing out of the drive, Croft leaned over to peer at the gas gauge.

  “Well, we got lucky in two respects.”

  “How’s that?” Mercy’s attention was on her driving as she started toward the compound gate.

  “No one emptied the gas tank and I know how to open the gate.”

  Mercy’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “You think maybe that’s a combination of too much luck?”

  He leaned his head back against the seat. “It’s a possibility.”

  “Croft.”

  “Don’t get cold feet. This was your brilliant plan, remember?”

  She brightened. “Maybe it’s working because it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. After all, no one expected us to sneak off tonight.”

  “That’s true. They expected me to end up facedown in a pool. As for you...”

  “Yes, what about me?”

  “I don’t know, Mercy.” Croft spoke wearily. A deep tiredness seemed to be replacing the alternating episodes of drunken euphoria and sickness. “I can’t think straight yet. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “How do you feel, Croft?”

  “Exhausted.” He held his hands up in front of him, examining them in the glow of the dashboard. “But I think I can still handle the gate.”

  Α few minutes later he proved himself right. The lights of the big house faded as Mercy eased the Toyota through the compound gates and started to descend the steep road. They reached the outer gate a few minutes later without incident.

  “You could probably have driven through this one if you’d had to,” Croft observed matter-of-factly when he climbed back into the car after unlocking the gate. “But it looks like our luck knows no bounds tonight. We must live right.”

  The huge bus that had brought the crowd of guests stood in the starlight looking for all the world like a slumbering dinosaur. Mercy edged the Toyota around it and started into the first of the endless curves that shaped the mountain road for miles. Tires squealed as she came out of the first curve.