“Hmm,” I said. “Cup of coffee?”
Seth leapt off his chair. “I’ll get it. I brought you a present.” He gestured at the pot. “I should have brought two. It looks good in the kitchen.”
“Go back and buy another,” I said. “I’m not giving up mine.”
“Brought it from some guy in the Bunch of Grapes. They sold out pretty quick.”
I stilled, my coffee cup halfway to my lips. Surely not? “Just plants?”
“All sorts of plants. The guy was selling statues and urns.” Seth poured a cup of coffee into a stoneware mug and topped up mine for me. “You interested?”
“Not me. Father and Ben are the gardeners in our family.” I sipped my coffee while my mind filed through the possibilities. I kept coming up with the same scenario. Either the men who’d sold the plant to Seth were moonlighting or else they were shifting stolen goods. The second option sounded more likely.
“From what they said, I think the sales last night were a one-off. What time did you want to leave?”
I opened my mouth to fire questions. What did they look like? How many people were there? Had Seth seen them before? And that was just for starters. No, I didn’t want to stir curiosity in him.
“I’m ready whenever you are.” The sooner I returned to Oakthorpe, the quicker I’d get the information to Father and Ben. They could come up with me tonight and check out pubs while I staked out the Patterson mansion in Chelsea. I also intended to visit the photographer while I was in the neighborhood.
I wasn’t sure what action I’d take at the photographers. He wouldn’t divulge personal details because that would be career suicide. Better if he wasn’t present, but if he was…I gave a mental shrug. I’d think of something.
“Give me time for a quick shower, and we’ll go.” Seth halted by the kitchen door. “You up for the Warrens’ ball this weekend?”
I nodded, trying to look enthusiastic. The balls blended together in one endless blur after a while. “Sure. I think I have an invitation somewhere. It’s Saturday, right? Because I’m working at a function for your mother all day Friday.”
“Yeah, Saturday. Don’t bother looking,” Seth said, his mouth creased in a wide smile. “My invitation is for a partner as well.”
We pulled up outside Oakthorpe minutes after one o’clock. A late-model saloon was parked outside the front entrance.
“I won’t come in since you’ve got visitors,” Seth said.
I tugged at his arm. “Don’t be silly. At least come in for a cold drink and to say hello. Amber misses you.”
A dark shadow passed over his face, and I silently berated myself for my tactlessness. “Parents still nagging about marriage?”
“Yeah.” He attempted a laugh that didn’t quite come off. “Continuing the family line. I mean, hell, what do I tell them?”
I hugged Seth hard, trying to show him how much I cared, how much I empathized. “You could start by telling them how much you love them.”
“Huh! Can’t do that. Stiff upper lip and all that.”
“Eve! You’re home.” Hannah dragged me inside the foyer. “About time. I thought I’d have to wade in and referee.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Perhaps I should go,” Seth said.
“No—”
“That would be best,” Hannah agreed.
Exasperated, I rolled my eyes. Not another drama in the Fawkner household. We lurched from one to the next.
I said goodbye to Seth, stubbornly walking him back out to his car while Hannah hovered. However, my curiosity was well and truly stirred by this time.
“Families,” I said when I stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “I’ll talk to you during the week.”
“Hurry, before Charles bursts a blood vessel,” Hannah called.
With a wave at Seth, I followed her inside, down the passage. Instead of entering the den or the kitchen, she carried on to the formal lounge. My brows rose, and I hurried to catch up. “What’s going on? Can’t you at least give me a clue?”
“Police.” She halted at the door and made shooing motions with her hands. “Go.”
Heck, she could’ve told me sooner to give me time to prepare. Nerves fired to life in my stomach. How had I given us away? I came up blank. Lordy, every Fawkner ancestor was likely spinning in their graves, and those who hovered in-between were making plans to punish me for stupidity. The urge to run rode me hard, but instead, I lifted my chin and sailed into the formal lounge, my full skirt rustling to highlight my silent aggravation.
Two men sat in uncomfortable antique chairs. I bit back a hysterical laugh. Father and Ben sat opposite, both wearing identical glowers.
Each of the men came to attention when I strode into their presence. The two visitors stood and turned to face me.
“Kahu,” I murmured.
“Detective Walsh and Detective Williams.” Father’s voice held silent warning, a trace of panic.
Detective Walsh was the same man who’d attended the funeral with Kahu. His brown hair was styled and kept in place with hair product. Not quite as tall as Kahu, but still fit in appearance, he vibrated with impatience. Heck, if he checked his scowl at the door, some women might label him cute, especially once they got a look at his pretty blue eyes.
I glanced at Kahu again and hesitated. Okay. The best thing to do was to wait for them to speak. I wasn’t about to give them unwarranted information. All the time, I kept wondering what I’d done to clue them in. What could I have done differently?
“Have a seat,” Kahu said.
Good idea. If I stood much longer, I’d keel over. I tottered over to the nearest chair and fell onto it.
“We need to ask you a few questions,” Kahu said.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. His expression, calm and businesslike, told me nothing.
“Where were you last night?”
I aimed a frown at Father. He lifted one shoulder in an imperceptible shrug, and I turned my attention back to the cops.
“At Josephine Montgomery’s fashion parade at Montgomery House in Knightsbridge.” I marked up several mental points for my cool tone since I was a mass of writhing nerves. “Why?”
“A few more questions, first.” Detective Walsh consulted a black notepad and fixed me with a speculative stare. “Did you have an invitation? What time did you leave?”
“I was one of the models. I left about one this morning.”
Instinct told me both Kahu and the officious Detective Walsh already knew that. I clasped my hands in my lap and waited.
Detective Walsh stared, looking as if he wanted to learn what made me tick. I boomeranged the look with attitude. “Were you one of the jewelry models?”
“Yes,” I said, a picture of ladylike poise. Inside, the nerves rock and rolled, but I felt quietly satisfied with the front I presented.
“Which jewels did you model?” An edge of frustration coated his voice.
“A diamond pendant,” I said.
“Tell us what you did toward the end of the evening,” Kahu interrupted his coworker. His eyes twinkled, making me imagine they were playing a version of good cop-bad cop.
“I paraded around the room, showing the jewels. Sorta like a prize heifer at an agricultural show,” I added as an aside.
Kahu’s mouth quirked upward. Detective Walsh didn’t react.
“The people pinched and manhandled me about the same as a judge in a cattle class,” I said. “I showed the diamond and the designer dress off for the evening with my security escort in tow. At about one, people started to leave, and the models returned the jewelry they were wearing to the central collection point. It was behind scenes in the room where the models changed their outfits,” I added before they questioned me on this point. “Once the jewelry was returned, I changed and caught a taxi to my friend’s flat.”
A tic flared to life in Detective Walsh’s left eye. “Did you see anyone suspicious when you left?”
“All the sus
picious characters I needed to watch for left with their wives,” I said in a dry tone. “I was tired. I hailed a cab and left. Look, are you going to tell me what this is about?”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Father and Ben lean forward in their seats. No wonder they were so on edge. They didn’t know what was going on either.
“The jewelry you wore last night was stolen.”
I jerked upright, staring at Detective Walsh in total disbelief. “Stolen?” Who? Where? How? “But the security was tight.” His lack of expression made me draw in a sharp breath. “You can’t think I did it.”
“The necklace you wore is missing.”
“I heard you the first time,” I snapped, bounding to my feet. “I had nothing to do with the theft. Check with my security escort. He was with me the whole time.”
“Overnight?” Detective Walsh inserted smooth as silk, so silky it took me a while to register.
“No!” Why did every man assume I was a loose woman? Was it because I was an unmarried mother?
“Why don’t you tell me where you went when you left the fashion parade?”
My glare should have burned holes in the detective but it seemed to glance off him. He waited for my answer, eyebrows raised.
“I stayed at Seth Winthrop’s flat in Knightsbridge,” I said with dignity. “It’s not far from Montgomery House.”
His dark brows rose higher, however Kahu asked the next question.
“Seth can vouch for your whereabouts since one this morning?”
Lordy, what did I say to that? Lie. Seth’s secret wasn’t mine to tell. “Yes,” I said meeting Kahu’s gaze without flinching.
Detective Walsh scowled. “We will, of course, confirm your alibi with Mr. Winthrop.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “Will that be all? I have things to do.”
“We’ll contact you should the need arise,” Kahu said.
The sparkle had disappeared from his eyes, and I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d blown it with him. I straightened my shoulders and pushed away the sensation of hurt. I’d told myself a romance with a copper wouldn’t work but faint hope had stirred anyway. Now I saw what Father had tried to tell me. The gulf between us was too big to bridge.
Hannah showed the policemen out, and we remained silent until the purr of the motor receded.
“I didn’t steal the diamond,” I said.
Father exhaled loudly. “Then we have a problem.”
“The competitor,” Ben said.
Hannah wrung her hands. “The cat who left the business card?”
Father scowled. “The competitor is going to make our lives difficult. Security will tighten and the press will jump on the story. Why didn’t they leave a card this time?”
“Maybe the police are holding it back. The papers are full of the thefts already.” Conflict bounced around inside me like a ping-pong ball gone off course. Regret. Alarm. More regret. “This isn’t a competition.”
“Maybe not,” Hannah said. “But mark my words. It will become a competition between the newcomer, the police and us. There can only be one winner.”
I kept a lid on the retort bubbling to my lips. The fear that nipped me was an old one. What if neither the mystery competitor nor the Shadow won? What if the winner in this jewel duel was the law?
Chapter Twelve
Breakfast the next day was a silent affair with nothing more uttered than requests to pass the marmalade and the rustle of the newspaper.
“We need to make a decision.” My voice cracked. When Hannah flinched, I said in a defensive tone, “We either stop and sell Oakthorpe or we continue, despite the risk. Those are our only options.”
Father threw his paper down with a sound of disgust. “There is a third.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “We can find the cheeky blighter and put a stop to his high jinks. This is our territory. We’ve never put up with usurpers before, and I don’t think we should take this lying down.”
I swallowed a mouthful of toast and marmalade. “Fighting words.”
Father screwed up his face in a pained grimace. “We’re not selling Oakthorpe. I say we continue with our plans and keep an eye out for the impostor. Of course, it’s going to make life difficult but a Fawkner always rises to the occasion.”
“That sounds fine and dandy for the Fawkner men, but it hardly applies to me.”
Ben waggled his finger in my face. “Mock all you want, missy, but this is serious.”
“Of course it is,” I managed before cracking up.
A knock on the door interrupted my mirth. I rose to answer and another round of pounding fists hurried me along. Humor still wreathed my lips when I opened the door.
“What can I…?” My voice trailed off when I got an eyeful of the two goons on our doorstep. One was the man who’d spoken to Amber before her teacher intervened. He was half a head taller than my five-foot-eight and sported a clean-shaven head. No doubt he thought it made him look tough. In my opinion, it emphasized his ugliness because his cauliflower ears stuck out like handles. The other man was shorter than me by a few inches and running to seed. His belt strained at the waist. They wore cheap black suits made of shiny material. The trousers of the bald man were too short, exposing a pair of white sports socks and runners.
“What do you want?”
“Name’s Vincent. The boss wants his money.” Baldy’s voice matched the gangster image—low and gravelly.
So this was Vincent. “It’s not due until tomorrow.” We’d had to juggle our funds and had ended up a few thousand pounds short on this payment. Not that I intended to tell these men.
“This is like a friendly reminder,” Seedy said.
I inclined my head in my best lady-of-the-house style. “Thank you.” No sense stirring up things with bad manners. “I’ll be at his office tomorrow morning to make the payment.”
Vincent nodded, and I was impressed. Maybe this was a friendly reminder and not the sinister gangster moment I’d imagined.
“Will I see both of you next time?” I asked.
“Sooner, if you don’t make good on your payment. You have a lovely daughter. I spoke to her at the school sports day.”
My pleasant smile faded. A sick sensation cramped my belly, and it was difficult to squeeze out words. “I don’t want any problems, boys. You’ll get your payment.”
Vincent nodded again. “Good. That’s good.”
“There was one other thing,” Seedy added before I could close the door. “Beauchamp said you should reconsider his proposal, and he’d knock some off the total. He said you’d know what he was talking about.”
The dirty old man. I forced a smile to my face and stuck out my chest. Since the neckline was low, their gazes zoomed straight there like kids scrambling for sweets. “You tell Dicky Beauchamp I’ll keep that under advisement,” I cooed, blinking my lashes in full-out ditzy mode.
Seedy and Vincent didn’t take their eyes off my breasts.
“Bye-bye, then.” I waggled the fingers of my right hand and closed the door with a soft click. “Shit,” I muttered in total understatement.
“Mama!” Amber appeared at the bend on the stairs. “Mama said a naughty word.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to wash my mouth out with soap.”
“Will it taste nice?” Amber wanted to know.
“I doubt it. From memory it tastes like Brussels sprouts.”
“Eew.” My daughter wrinkled her cute button nose. “As bad as snails and garlic butter?”
“I’ve heard Ben say that.” I checked my watch and let out a very bimbolike shriek. “Look at the time. We’re going to be late for school.” I hustled Amber down the passage to the kitchen and pressed her onto a chair.
“Who was at the door?” Father asked.
“Tell you later,” I said in an aside.
Hannah handed me a plate of scrambled eggs, and I placed it in front of Amber. “Eat,” I said, “but not too fast. I don’t want you to throw up over your dress.”
Amber grinned, and I marveled at my beautiful, well-adjusted daughter. As always, the past slithered through my mental barricades. My good humor dissipated while I stared at my cold toast. What if Amber’s father suffered bad-hair days…or…or suffered a hereditary disease? How could I help her if I didn’t know her history? I didn’t enjoy lying to her about her father’s death.
“Finished!” Five minutes later, Amber’s chair scraped the flagstones when she shot to her feet.
I pushed my uneaten toast away and stood, glad she’d dragged me from my worries. “Go brush your teeth. I’ll wait out front for you.”
“The small wiggling ears have gone,” Father said. “Who was at the door?”
“Beauchamp sent goons to impress upon us the need to make payment on time.”
Hannah set down the china teapot with a thump. “They didn’t hurt you?”
“I distracted them with my breasts, but they said they’d talked to Amber at the sports day.” Fear shot through me again at the implicit threat against my daughter.
“Told you the scatterbrained act would work,” Father said, leaning back in his chair.
“They threatened Amber.” Because of his stupidity. Didn’t Father understand the consequences of his actions? He’d placed us all in danger.
“And I still say playing the bimbo is sexist,” Hannah said. “I don’t know why you agreed to go along with their crazy scheme. You should have a husband, more children.”
“On that we agree,” Father said. “Not that you’re doing a bad job as the Shadow, but you should marry a good man and produce children to carry on the family occupation.”
“Like you did,” I snapped. The moment the words left my mouth I wanted to drag them back. Father had loved my mother, and they’d lost several babies before I came along. Mother’s health had never been robust, and she’d caught pneumonia one particularly harsh winter and died. Father had never remarried, and if he went out with other women, he was discreet about the fact, but I was tired of the parental guilt trips. The terrible trio wanted to see me settled. I got it.
“Not a cop,” Father said, shaking his head. “Imagine having a copper for a son-in-law. I don’t know what you see in him. If you think walking a tightrope is a turn-on, don’t! I would have thought being the Shadow was dangerous enough. Seeing that copper is not only dangerous, it’s madness.”
Cat Burglar in Training Page 12
