by Nina Bruhns
“My poor darling.” He sneaked a kiss onto her hair, brought her to his car and deposited her gently in the passenger seat. “You just relax. There’s a bottle of water behind the seat, if you want it.”
She nodded, and he could feel her eyes on him as he made his way over to the ambulance where Natalie was still holding the newspaper clipping with her arms folded over her chest. Duncan was talking to Darla while Henry was loaded into the back of the bus.
Duncan turned to Conner as he came up. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this…” His lips quirked in resignation. “But I figure you’ll hear it all from Detective Rothchild, here, anyway. Besides, I owe you one…seems you’ve broken my case wide open for me.”
“Always happy to be of service to our friends at the Bureau.” He winked at Natalie.
Duncan snorted. “Anyway, Ms. St. Giles has corroborated Ms. Mancuso’s statement as to how she came into possession of the stolen Tears of the Quetzal ring and has also absolved her sister of all involvement in any jewelry thefts.”
Conner smiled. “Vera will be relieved to hear that. Listen, would you mind if I asked Darla a question?” The ambulance carrying Henry pulled away, and Duncan turned back to Conner, looking uncertain. “I’ve already read Ms. St. Giles her rights. She doesn’t have to say a word.”
“I understand.”
“Well. Then it’s up to her.”
“Ask me,” Darla said. “I owe you that much for showing up when you did.”
Since she’d been read her rights, he also assumed she’d waived her right to an attorney.
“Okay, your brother said Candace nearly killed you both. What did he mean by that?”
A dark shadow passed over her face. “As I’ve already told Special Agent Duncan…if it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t be in this mess. My brother and I may have stolen a few pieces of jewelry, but we’ve never hurt anyone. Jeez. We did it for the thrills, not to get ourselves shot at.”
“So how’d that happen?”
She unconsciously worried the bandage on her arm. “This guy, Thomas Smythe, approached us maybe six months ago, wanted to join in our—” she shrugged “—you know, the jewelry thing. He and I hit it off at first and we hooked up for a while. But it turns out he was only using me to get close to Candace.”
“Why?” Conner asked. Not that anyone ever needed a reason. Candace had been a force of nature, attracting all sorts of people—weirdos and saints alike. They all wanted to bask in the light of her stardust and notoriety. “What did this Thomas guy want with her?”
“Not her,” Darla explained. “Thomas was obsessed with the Tears of the Quetzal. I’m telling you, the guy was bonkers. He talked Henry into trying to steal it.” She shrugged again. “Hell, why not? Even cut up into smaller stones, it would bring millions. I’d finally be free to do anything I wanted. With or without the approval of my father.”
Aha. So Conner’s theory about her had been right.
“Anyway, since I was friends with Candace, my job was to persuade her to sneak it out of her daddy’s safe.” Darla rolled her eyes. “Talk about obsessive. Her old man is nearly as crazy as Thomas about that ring.” Suddenly, she remembered who she was talking to and winced at Natalie. “Sorry. I forgot he’s your dad, too.”
“No, you’re right. He does have a major bug up his nose about that ring. He’s convinced it’s cursed.”
Darla nodded vigorously. “Yeah! So did Thomas. But he’s got it in his head the ring will give him some sort of special powers. Something about revenge or some nonsense like that. He was never real coherent when he talked about that stuff.” Her mouth turned downward. “I should have listened to my instincts. After a while I broke up with the nutcase and stopped baiting Candace to borrow the ring, but Henry still had this deal with him to fence the diamond if he stole it from her.”
“So what went wrong?” Conner asked.
She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, then slid it down to unconsciously touch the bruises on her throat. “The night of that big charity deal at Luke Montgomery’s casino, it was all over the local news. You know—” she made quote marks with her fingers “—‘Film at six! Live from the red carpet!’ God, and there she was, wearing the damn thing on national TV! I mean, we knew Thomas would go for it that night.”
“Did he?” Duncan asked grimly.
Tears welled in Darla’s eyes. “I honestly don’t know. When we heard Candace had been murdered and the ring was missing…” She swallowed.
Natalie burst out accusingly, “My God, Darla! He killed her and you didn’t come forward? She was your friend!”
“I would have, honest, but Thomas swore he didn’t do it!” Darla wailed. “He was furious, and he didn’t have the ring, so I believed him!”
That fit, unfortunately. The ring had disappeared after the murder, but then was found in the possession of Luke Montgomery’s fiancée, Amanda, hidden in her purse unbeknownst to anyone. There was rampant speculation as to how it had gotten there, but as soon as it was found, Amanda Patterson had turned it over to the police. She hadn’t even been in Las Vegas at the time of Candace’s murder, so she was never a suspect.
“After the ring turned up in that woman’s purse,” Darla continued, “the papers all said the police were holding it as evidence. So Thomas hatched this crazy plan to disguise himself as a cop and walk right in there and check it out of the evidence room! And damned if it didn’t work!” She sounded amazed.
Conner could see Natalie gritting her teeth. He knew heads had rolled over that one. He’d personally seen to it.
“So,” Conner asked Darla, “why were you arguing with him outside the cop shop after he pulled it off?”
Her jaw dropped. “How did you know about that?”
“I saw you. I was on my way in.”
“So you’re the one who figured out so quickly he’d left the paste ring in its place!”
Conner nodded. “I recognized the copy. How did he get hold of it, anyway?”
“He claims he posed as a reporter to gain admittance into Harold Rothchild’s mansion. Candace had once told him her stepmother kept an old paste copy of the Tears of the Quetzal in her jewelry case in the bedroom upstairs.”
Naturally.
Harold’s fourth wife was of the trophy variety and not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. It was hard to imagine a rational person keeping a million-dollar jewel in a box on the vanity. Oy. She probably thought just because it wasn’t the original it wasn’t valuable.
“Pretty clever of him,” Conner conceded. “Might have worked, too, if Harold hadn’t insisted I go and try to get the ring out of police custody.”
“Dad never did trust cops,” Natalie muttered. An understatement. Harold had not been happy when she became one.
“Apparently not just cops,” Darla said. “Candace told us your father refuses to let anyone near the Tears of the Quetzal, ever.”
“Yes, but it isn’t about trust, it’s about that stupid curse,” Natalie said with a hint of annoyance.
“Anyway…” Darla cast her eyes downward again, looking honestly distressed. “If I thought for a minute he’d killed Candace, I would have called you, even though it meant getting heat on the jewelry thing. But he swore he didn’t touch her.” Her eyes welled. “But now, after he did this to me—” she looked up, gestured to her battered face, and her voice grew thready “—and trying to shoot us today…” Her tears spilled over her lashes.
“You think it was him doing the shooting?” Duncan asked.
“I know it was. Who else would it be? The man is a damn lunatic. He’s dangerous. I’ll sign a sworn statement, whatever you need to arrest this guy, but I want protection for Henry and me in exchange, until he’s behind bars.”
“I’ll see what I can do to get you a deal,” Duncan said. “Rothchild, you coming down to Metro? LVMPD is taking the suspects into custody for now. But I’ll need your statement, along with Ms. Mancuso’s.”
“Sure thing.”
Hell, Conner’d gone this long without sleep, what was another few hours? He was on about his third…or maybe fourth wind, by now. “We’ll meet you there.”
Natalie waved to him as she led off her prisoner, then darted a glance over to his car. “By the way, will we see you at dinner tomorrow, Conner?” she called.
“Not sure. I’ll let you know,” he called back, heading to the driver’s-side door.
Lately he’d gotten into the habit of having dinner at the “other” Rothchilds’ on Monday nights. But frankly, he’d rather spend the time with Vera. He slid into the car and smiled across at her, but…she was fast asleep. He leaned over and quietly snapped her belt over her lap, planting a kiss on her temple as he did so.
“Conner?” she murmured sleepily, her eyes still closed.
“Yeah, babe.”
“You’re not my Prince Charming anymore.”
He raised his brows in amusement. Was she talking in her sleep? “No?”
“Nmn-mmnh. That was just for one night.” She sighed dreamily. “Now you’re my knight in shining armor.”
He’d take it. “Okay.”
“Know who that makes me?”
“No. Who?”
She giggled softly, still not opening her eyes. “Sleeping Beauty.” She sighed and snuggled down into the soft leather of the bucket seat. Totally oblivious.
He laughed, marveling at the ability of this amazing woman to take a horrible situation and pluck the one positive note from its depths. Even in her sleep she was relentlessly optimistic and charmingly romantic.
God, he loved her.
Now if he could just get his family to love her the same way…to see all the good in her…to accept her as worthy of the Rothchild name.
Was that too much to ask?
Unfortunately, he feared it just might be.
Chapter 19
Vera was too wiped out to protest when Conner carried her up from his car to her penthouse.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she murmured.
“Why?” he asked with a grin.
She couldn’t think of a damn reason. So she reached up and kissed him. He winked back at her and carried her into the apartment. They were just here for a quick stop on the way to the police station. For shoes. And a change of clothes. The ones she had on were covered in dirt and blood.
“Maybe a quick shower, too?” she asked.
“Only if I can watch.”
She smiled demurely. “Or you could join me.”
“How quick are we talking here?”
“That all depends.”
“On?”
“How good you are at lathering up.”
He made a very male sound deep in his throat. “Oh, honey, I’m real good.”
“I somehow knew that,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him all the way to the bathroom.
He set her down and closed the door behind them with a firm click. Then advanced on her, murmuring, “Baby, prepare to be thoroughly lathered.”
Conner’s cousin Natalie, the homicide detective, only blinked once when he and Vera walked into Metro headquarters still damp from their not-quite-so-quick shower. She did, however, raise an eyebrow in salute to Vera.
Good thing Conner wasn’t a detective, because he was totally clueless to the whole female-to-female exchange.
Vera was feeling so good, she couldn’t help but smile back at the woman. She hoped there wouldn’t be fallout because of Natalie’s astute observation. She knew Conner’s rich family would not be pleased he was dating someone like her. Her own father’s ubiquitous “gold-digger” insults rang a constant reminder in her head of how people like the Rothchilds thought of people in her social class. As in poor. Dirt poor.
Whatever. She still had him for today, and that’s all that mattered. What tomorrow brought, she’d deal with tomorrow.
Special Agent Duncan was there, too, and took Conner into a conference room to get his statement. Natalie led Vera over to her desk to take hers.
“Sorry about the luxurious accommodations,” she quipped, snagging them each a cup of coffee along the way. “Interrogation rooms are all full. Sugar?”
“Just cream,” Vera said. “Thanks. No problem.”
Natalie very professionally went through the statement procedure, making sure she wrote everything down just right. Then she handed the papers off to a junior officer to get them typed up for signature.
“So,” she began, leaning back in her creaky office chair while they waited, “you and Conner, eh?”
“Um.” Ho-boy. She should have known this was coming. Now what? “It’s not serious,” Vera echoed his words from yesterday morning to his dad, as much as she wished she dared say otherwise. “We just met, really.”
Natalie nodded. “I figured as much. Since you weren’t at the Lights of Las Vegas Charity Ball with him.”
“Oh, I was there,” she said without thinking. Oops. “Um. Just not with him.”
Natalie stared at him. “So, you, like, met him there? Or earlier today?” She blinked again. “Please tell me not at the crime scene.” She could tell the woman wanted to be scandalized but was only succeeding in being greatly amused. And trying valiantly to hide it.
“Not at the crime scene,” Vera confirmed with a half smile. “Actually it was…four days ago.” Had it been such a short time? It seemed like she’d known him a lifetime already. And yet…for only hours.
“Yeah? Where’d you meet?”
Vera felt like she was being interrogated.
Oh, wait. She was being interrogated. By a homicide detective concerning her favorite cousin. Territory didn’t get much more dangerous than that.
Better play this straight, not only because Natalie would see right through lies, but…she may as well know the truth so she wouldn’t get all excited about cuz’s new girlfriend and blab to the family. Maybe this way she’d keep it to herself, and Conner wouldn’t be embarrassed.
“He saw me dance,” Vera said. She went to take a sip of coffee. Except her hand was inexplicably shaking, so hot liquid sloshed over the rim. She hurriedly put it down again.
Natalie opened her top desk drawer and tossed her a napkin. “Can’t take me anywhere, either,” she said with a commiserating grin. Still trying to be friends. Vera wanted to cry. “So you’re a showgirl. Cool. What show do you work?”
Oh. Crap.
She gave up, and looked Conner’s cousin in the eyes. “The Diamond Lounge.”
“Oh.” Then it really registered. “Oh!” Natalie’s eyes got wide. “You mean…A dancer. That’s, um. Nice.”
Yeah.
Thank God, the junior officer returned with her statement. She took as little time as possible to read and sign the thing, then rose and held out her hand. “Good to meet you, Detective. I should be going now. Got to get ready for work.”
“Oh. Of course. Sure.” She shook her hand, mumbled a thanks for the statement and escorted her back to the waiting area out front. “But you do know we shut down the Diamond Lounge last night, right?” she said as Vera was about to leave.
Vera halted. Frowned. “Closed down?”
Natalie said, “Yeah, Conner orchestrated this big sting of club managers over some call-girl deal, and the clubs all shut down until owners can get other management in place. It’ll probably be a few days before the club reopens.”
“Oh. I had no idea.”
“Not surprising. Been a bit busy today,” Natalie said wryly.
“Yeah. Well. Thanks for the heads-up. Guess I’ll have the night off.”
“Oh, and Vera?”
She paused. “Yes?”
“Conner’s coming over to our house for dinner on Monday. Kind of a new tradition, since…” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, we’d love for you to join us, too, if you can make it.”
Disbelief sifted through her. Surely, she was kidding.
Just then, the desk sergeant called over to her, “Ms. Mancuso?”
S
he tore her gaze from Natalie. “Yes?”
“Can you wait for just a moment? There’s someone who wants to speak with you before you go.”
Rats. Conner must be finished, too. She wasn’t sure she could handle being scrutinized next to him, not now that his cousin knew who she really was. Especially not after that unexpected invitation. He’d have to field that one. Vera dare not touch it with a ten-foot pole.
But it wasn’t Conner who wanted to talk.
The door opened and out walked the last person on earth she wanted to see.
Her father.
No. No, no, no. Not here. Not right now.
She spun on a toe and practically sprinted for the door.
“Vera! Wait!” His voice boomed across the reception area.
She fought to hold back sudden tears. Of all days. Why did he always have to—
She fumbled with the door handle, unable to get it open. He reached her and put a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, waiting for the verbal abuse to start.
“Vera. Please. I know I don’t deserve it. But for the love of God, please let me say something to you.”
He didn’t deserve it? More like she didn’t. Mutely, she took a cleansing breath and turned to face the barrage.
She was shocked at what she saw. His face was gray, haggard, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red. One of them was bruised by a half moon of purple.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing several times. “I just want to say…thank you,” he said, shocking her even more.
Was this some kind of cruel trick? She felt her lips part but for the life of her couldn’t think of what to say. It was like she’d landed in some kind of weird parallel universe. Dinner invitations from detectives. Thank-you’s from her father. What next?
“Darla told me what you did,” he choked out. “That you saved her life. And my son’s. That they would both be dead now if it weren’t for your calm thinking and unselfish bravery.”
“She e-exaggerates,” Vera stammered. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
