Words failed me. Many tingled on the tip of my tongue, but I was pretty sure they weren’t the words he wanted to hear.
“I need to talk to my father. I take it you have proof of the debt?”
“I thought you’d require proof.” Beauchamp’s hand slid into the inside pocket of his jacket and he pulled out a wad of papers. “It’s all there.” His gaze burned into me for long seconds. “I’ll give you a week to make your decision.”
“Hi, Evie. Any job prospects?” Hannah asked.
Despite the anger that had bubbled and grown during the drive home, I had trouble suppressing a spurt of humor. Hannah made it sound as if I’d been out job hunting, similar to a normal person. The sooner I confronted Father and Ben, the better. “Is Amber home from the birthday party yet?” I knew Hannah was taking extra care of Amber’s security but wanted to see her myself.
Hannah wiped her hands on a towel and checked the clock on the kitchen wall. “She shouldn’t be far away. Josh Green volunteered to drop the children off at their homes afterward. I thought that would be okay.”
I nodded, having known Josh since I was a child, but I’d feel better once I could cuddle my daughter.
“She’ll be hyper from the sweets and fizzy drinks, no doubt. If she doesn’t toss her cookies. Just like her mother, that one,” Hannah added in a gruff tone that disguised a heart as big as England.
“True.” I’d need cunning and guile to corner the terrible trio. I wasn’t under any illusions. Hannah knew exactly what was going on and was up with the play. If I showed the slightest hesitation, the three would trample me. My daughter’s future was at stake here. If there was one thing I wanted for Amber, it was a life with a normal job in her future, one that didn’t involve skirting the law.
The terrible trio would gang up on me, but since this was my life, my freedom on the line, they’d better produce answers. Pretty damn quick.
“Are Father and Ben around?”
“No.”
Was it my imagination or had Hannah hesitated? “Where are they? I need a family meeting. Today,” I added in a firm, no-nonsense voice.
Hannah fumbled with the bag of potatoes she’d picked up, and her head jerked in my direction, her eyes round behind the lenses of her glasses. “Is something wrong?”
Good try. “I want to speak to everyone together. No sense repeating myself.”
“But if the topic is serious enough to warrant a family meeting, I might need to give the matter some thought.”
No flies on Hannah. “After dinner, once Amber’s gone to bed. You never told me what Father and Ben are up to. Will they be long?”
“They’re at the…farmers’ market,” Hannah said.
Apart from the hesitation, the answer was pretty smooth, but my suspicions grew. “The farmers’ market? Why?” I felt a little mean cornering Hannah like this but the practice would come in handy for tonight.
“They’re…ah…doing research. We have excess produce in the garden, and they wanted to know if we could sell it to bring in extra money. Lord knows, we could use it to pay bills,” she said, doing a cross over her heart.
Humph! And the moon was made of tasty cheddar. “Good idea,” I said, making a mental note to nab Father and Ben before they could get their story straight with Hannah. If the situation wasn’t so serious, I’d be looking forward to the verbal skirmish ahead.
Unfortunately, Father and Ben arrived home while I was giving Amber a bath. I read her a bedtime story and, thanks to the running around she’d done with the other kids during the party, she dropped off to sleep quickly. I tugged the covers over her, buzzed a kiss over her forehead and stepped out of the room.
I was aware of voices in the room we used to watch TV and relax in the evenings. A wry smile curved my lips. The terrible trio was ready for me. I opened the door, and their chatter halted mid-sentence. Three sets of eyes looked in my direction. They visibly squared their shoulders.
“It’s time to do another job.” Father fired the first salvo.
“We need the money,” Hannah seconded.
“Oh,” I said sweetly. “Didn’t you make much money at the farmers’ market?”
“We went for research,” Ben said.
Father nodded in agreement.
I nipped in for the kill. “How much money do you owe Beauchamp?”
My father ruffled up like one of Hannah’s bantam roosters. “Not much. I told you that. Has someone been telling you lies?”
“That would be half a million pounds’ worth of lie? Pretty expensive fib.” My scorn sliced through Father’s bluster. “You weren’t honest about the amount.”
“But…but,” he spluttered before glancing from Hannah to Ben and back again.
“It’s no good looking at them. I have copies of the paperwork with your signature at the bottom.”
“We were going to tell you.” Ben shuffled from foot to foot.
“They’re not going to the casino anymore,” Hannah said. “They promised me.”
“Casino!” I’d been so shocked by the amount of money owed I hadn’t asked the how or wherefores. “You have me running through hoops stealing—”
“It’s not stealing,” Father said hastily. “It’s redistribution of wealth.”
“You have me risking my freedom to cover your gambling debts. You’re putting Amber in danger.” My fists clenched and unclenched, the urge to hit someone or something a siren lure in my brain. I ended up hitting the wall. “Ouch!”
My tantrum didn’t do the wall much good either, and I glared at the hole I’d made while cradling my right hand.
Hannah bustled over to me. “Let me see. A right mess you’ve made. Hold still. You’re dripping blood.”
“How am I supposed to fix that?” Ben asked, gesturing at the hole I’d made.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “One more bill added to half a million is nothing.” I sucked in a deep breath, suppressing the urge to strike out at something else. “I want to know the exact total we owe—everything from household bills to gambling debts. Right to the last penny.”
Father slumped back into his recliner chair. “All right. We’ll sort out the paperwork tomorrow.”
“Now,” I said firmly. “If I have to steal—wait—redistribute wealth, I want to know the exact total. Once you’re done, you can tell me how much we can expect to earn at the farmers’ market if we attend every one.”
“But we didn’t go to the farmers’ market to—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “But it’s a good idea. Besides, it’ll keep you out of mischief.”
“Perhaps the girl has a point.” Ben parked his arse on the settee. “Our vegetables are bigger than John Cowan’s. Did you see his pumpkins?”
Father scratched his ear. “Yeah, his carrots were scrawny too. Looked anemic to me.”
Okay, call me a masochist, but I had to know. “If you didn’t go to look at the vegetables, what did you go for?”
Hannah huffed. “They went to gossip.”
“Did not,” Ben fired back.
“Did.” Hannah planted her hands on ample hips and glared at her husband.
“Market research,” Father said with quiet dignity.
I snorted an inelegant sound that stopped the argument short.
Ben shook his head. “That is not attractive.”
My eyes narrowed. I was on to them. “Don’t change the subject. Market research? What sort of market research?”
“Yes, I’d like to hear the local gossip.” A wave of familiar lavender water wafted from Hannah as she squeezed onto the settee next to Ben.
“Well, aside from learning our vegetables are a sight better than those at the market, there was a bit of a to-do about Sid’s goat. Mabel got loose and wandered into Marian Alexander’s rose garden. Helped herself to some prize specimens.” Father smirked during the retelling.
“That would be Mabel you’re talking about,” I said, fascinated in spite of myself. Village life was the same everywh
ere, be it France or England.
“Yeah. Serena and George McKenzie had their garden professionally landscaped. Cost them a bomb, to hear George talk. Don’t think he was in favor of the idea, but you know Serena.”
When Father paused, I had to restrain myself from shaking the story from him.
Ben shook his head, the light catching his bald spot. “Glad I’m not married to Serena.”
Hannah beat me to the question begging an answer. “What happened?”
“Last night, someone stole the lot.”
“Every stone, every fancy statue and most of the plants. I thought George was going to cry,” Ben said.
“Serena did cry,” Father said. “The cops don’t have a clue. Gossip was running hot about who did it and why.”
I took one look at their grinning faces and alarm jolted through me. “It wasn’t you two?”
Their grins blanked. Hannah leaned forward, her jaw dropping in shock. Three sets of eyes gazed at me, all full of hurt.
“Hell, no!” Father straightened in his recliner. He rubbed his jaw, the stubble prickling loud in the room. “Although I wish we’d thought of it. There’s big money in plants and garden statues.”
“Okay.” I blew out and upward, hard enough to lift my fringe off my forehead. “That’s good.”
“The thing is, Evie, they’re offering a five-thousand-pound reward for information leading to a conviction.” Ben beamed with enthusiasm. “Charlie and I are going to investigate.”
Father nodded. “That’s right. You and Hannah can help. Just keep an ear open when you’re out and about. Amazing what you can hear at the grocery shop in the village.”
Hannah nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Or at Amber’s school.”
I studied the faces of the terrible trio. Private investigators. The thought of them snooping around made me shudder, but at least it’d keep them out of my way. “You won’t do anything illegal?”
They shook their heads in a definite “who me?” manner.
I returned to the debt issue. “Half a million,” I said. “That translates into a lot of jobs.”
“Give it a rest, Eve,” Father said.
“Family meeting again tomorrow night,” I said.
Each of the terrible trio glared at me. I grinned, and their scowls darkened.
“Meeting tomorrow night,” I repeated.
“Fine,” Father snapped. “We can decide on your next job at the same time.”
Point and set. While I was thinking about the inevitability of putting my freedom on the line again, the phone rang.
Hannah struggled from the soft cushions of the settee. “I’ll get it.” She walked briskly over to the other side of the room to pick up the phone. “Hello, Oakthorpe.” We watched her expression for a clue as to the identity of the caller. “Eve? Is this business or personal?”
Hannah placed her hand over the receiver. “It’s a man.” Her voice held definite glee while my pulse rate took off in a slow canter then gathered into a gallop.
The only male I could think of was Kahu. There was no reason for him to ring me.
“Who is it?” Father asked.
“I have no idea.” I sauntered over to the phone pretending a coolness I didn’t feel. I was like a giddy schoolgirl asked out on her first date. “Hello.”
“Evie has a boyfriend,” Ben said in a sing-song voice.
“Eve, how are you?”
I turned away from the nosy interest and let Kahu’s husky voice wash over me. “How did you find my number?”
“I’m a detective. That’s what I do. Detect.” Laughter filled his voice, inviting me to share the joke, his triumph. Instead, queasiness struck me. What would happen if he discovered I was the Shadow?
“Hmm,” I said to give myself time to get a grip of my turbulent emotions. Joy that he’d liked me enough to track me down, and pure fear at what he could do to me.
My family. My heart.
“I wondered if you’d like to go to the Harlequin Ball with me.”
Regret grabbed hold of me. “I’m sorry. I promised to go with Seth.” I tried to tell myself it was for the best. Pity my heart refused to listen.
“Another time. Save a dance for me.”
“Okay.” I held the phone cradled next to my ear until I heard the decisive click at the other end and turned to face the uproar.
“Who was that?” Father asked.
“You’ve never had a man ring you before,” Ben said.
“His voice sent shivers down my spine.” Hannah winked. “I hope you said yes to whatever he wanted.”
Ben and Father sent Hannah aggrieved glares.
“You heard her as well as we did,” Father said. “She said no.”
Ben nodded. “She’s going out with Seth.”
“Huh!” Hannah snorted. “They generate about as much heat as a snowball at Christmas.”
“That’s enough,” I said, quelling further comments with a decisive glare. “The man’s a detective. You want the Shadow to get that close to a cop?”
“Holy shit,” Father said. Ben and Hannah appeared suitably stunned.
“Yeah,” I said, suppressing every unruly hormone in my traitorous body. “Sorta like sleeping with the enemy.”
Chapter Seven
I decided to do some research before Amber’s school sports day. The library was an old Georgian building on the outskirts of the village. I pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. Instead of a quiet atmosphere where anything louder than a whisper led to the head librarian’s wrath, it was like rush hour on Oxford Street.
“Is it always like this in here?” I asked when I finally reached the head of the information-desk line.
“Only on Thursdays,” the young librarian said with a stressed smile. “Pensioners’ day.”
After making a mental note never to come to the library again on a Thursday, I asked for directions to the genealogy department. Moments later, I threaded through the mass of aging bodies while looking for the stairs. I figured they’d have far less traffic than the lifts.
Inside the stairwell was cooler and blissfully peaceful until I heard the distinct tap of a walking stick. Huh! The place was infested with pensioners. It was bad enough that I had three ganging up on me at home.
“Arianne is devastated,” a woman whispered. It carried up to where I hovered in indecision. “Absolutely devastated.”
“She had forgiven Perdita? Last I heard they weren’t talking to each other.”
Okaaay. Perhaps I’d hit the mother lode. Did I make my presence known and question them, or did I continue hovering in the hope I’d learn something important? The distinct squeak of the door at the top of the stairs forced a decision. I continued down toward the two elderly women who, judging from the loud taps, were laboriously making their way up the stairs. At the next landing, we met face-to-face.
Luck was with me since I knew them. “Hello, Mrs. Rogers. Mrs. Matthews. How are you?” Although I’d get chapter and verse about their medical complaints, there was a certain etiquette employed when it came to worming information out of neighbors.
“Lady Evelyn. How are you, dear? I heard you were home from France. How’s your dear, wee daughter?” Mrs. Matthews’ eyes twinkled with curiosity.
Footsteps behind me stalled the questions trembling on my lips. I moved back to let a teenage girl pass. “Please call me Eve. I’m fine and so is Amber. We’re enjoying being back at Oakthorpe.”
“I’m sure the viscount is glad to have you home,” Mrs. Matthews said.
Mrs. Rogers nodded and so did her double chins. I tore my eyes off the fearful sight with difficulty.
“Hmm,” I said, although I was positive Father had second thoughts about my presence at home. He’d been forced to give up his job, and now I was bossing him around, demanding to know the financial state at Oakthorpe. Nope, it was a pretty safe bet he had a few niggling regrets.
“Father said the McKenzies’ new landscape garden was sto
len the other night.” I might as well steer the conversation in the direction of crime.
“Yes,” Mrs. Matthews said.
Mrs. Rogers and her chins nodded vigorously.
“I hear they’ve offered a reward. Has anyone come forward with information?”
“Not that I’ve heard of, but Janet is very upset,” Mrs. Rogers said. “This is the third theft from gardens she’s designed and planted. Business is starting to suffer.”
Revenge? Since it was so often in my thoughts, the idea leapt to the forefront of my mind. A distinct possibility. We’d need to research local competitors because we could certainly do with the reward money.
“A body’s not safe these days,” Mrs. Matthews stated. “Arianne Jessup’s niece was murdered recently. Shot in cold blood, and they haven’t caught the murderer yet.”
“The woman in London?” I asked.
“That’s the one,” Mrs. Rogers said. “Arianne despaired of her. We went on a pensioners’ trip into London to take in a show. Who should we see in the theatre but Perdita with another man? Arianne didn’t say much, but it definitely wasn’t her husband. I hear she used to run around with other men quite openly.”
“No?” Wow. I’d known she was seeing another man. His identity was still a secret but what if she made a habit of one-night stands? Could a family feud be in play? What if James Moning—no, I discarded the idea almost straightaway. The husband would be under immediate scrutiny. Kahu would check his alibi first.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Rogers peered at me with concern.
“I’m fine.” I glanced at my watch and yelped. “But I’m late for Amber’s sports day. Nice to see you both.” I turned to head back up the stairs. I’d have to check the genealogy records another day.
When I arrived at the school, the sports day was in full swing. Father was deeply engrossed in a discussion with two men dressed in identical trousers and waistcoats. They reminded me of slender bookends on a lean. From the intent expression on Father’s face, I suspected he was on the case. Good, especially if this helped the transformation from active cat burglar to retired.
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