Sweet Temptations Collection

by Brant, Marilyn

  ***

  Cait managed to gain admittance through the service entrance by holding the door for a couple of young workers struggling with garbage sacks. Being that they seemed unconcerned with protocol, unlike the snooty guy at the gate, she slipped inside without a second glance and probably without a second thought.

  She took in her surroundings. She stood in the midst of a small room with clean walls and a tiled floor. There were four doors: one leading outside and three others with brass placards above them reading Kitchen, Equipment and Laundry, respectively.

  She peered through the kitchen one and saw that it led to a hallway. The same was true for the equipment door. This place was big on hallways. She’d just reached the laundry door when she heard the kids with the garbage bags coming back. She slid into that hallway and began striding with faux purpose toward its end, which led to…another room.

  This one also had clean walls and a tiled floor, plus fifty shelves stacked with “FGCC”-monogrammed fluffy white bath towels. They reminded her of stuff she’d seen in glossy interior designer magazines. She touched one gingerly. It engulfed her finger in warm fibers and sprang back into shape when she pulled away.

  Cait could hear the sounds of washers, dryers and chattering females one room over. She searched for an escape from the Downy-fresh chamber but jumped when a voice materialized beside her. The voice said, “Oh, good. You’re early. Kendra, right?”

  “Umm…” Cait said swiveling to look at an older woman dressed in gray, one with lynx-soft footsteps.

  The lady didn’t give Cait a chance to answer. “I’m Doris, the head of laundry services. Mr. Firenzi told me to expect you.” The woman gave her a warm smile. “Once you’ve changed into your uniform, you can begin by taking a cart of clean towels down to the women’s locker room.” She pointed to a metal cart near the far wall. “You might need to make a couple trips. These woman go through ‘em real fast.”

  “I, um…” Cait wanted to explain, but what would she say? I’m not the new maid, ma’am. I’m just breaking and entering. She opted for a deceptive but at least fairly innocuous question. “What’s the quickest route to the women’s locker room?”

  “Ah, a speedy worker then, are you?” The woman laughed. She explained the directions, pulled out a folded Four Gates uniform and handed it to Cait with a pat on the shoulder. “Just ask me if you have any other questions, dear.”

  “Uh, thanks, Doris.”

  The lady walked briskly and soundlessly into the other room leaving Cait to stare at the light gray uniform in her arms. Great. What would a Bond Girl do in a situation like this?

  She gulped some air and followed Doris’s instructions to the women’s locker room, debating whether she should take the ruse a dangerous step forward by actually changing into the uniform. Would she really sneak around under the pretense of being a maid?

  Good God, no!

  She slipped into the room and shoved the uniform into an empty locker before glancing around. It was a fancier changing area than what might be found in a five-star hotel. Really over the top. Golden baskets of toiletries hung conveniently on the modern-art-inspired walls. Little bottles of salon-quality shampoos and conditioners. Disposable razors. Packets of Q-tips.

  Cait rolled her eyes. She’d take her showers at home, thank you. But those fluffy towels mesmerized her. She stood near a rack of them and poked at another one. It sprang back. Boing!

  The door flew open.

  Cait turned her back to the door, grabbed a towel and threw it over her head, rubbing as if drying her hair. Oh, yeah. She was a master of disguises all right. How could she get out of here fast?

  She crab-walked in the direction of the exit. The woman who’d entered was humming to herself in a voice Cait would recognize on a mountain in Tibet. Shelley! Oh, damn.

  One thing she knew for certain, Shelley would not be divulging school district secrets to herself alone in the women’s locker room. Cait held her breath until she heard one of the toilet stalls lock shut. Now was her chance to escape.

  She flung the towel into the laundry hamper, raced out of the door and down the hall. She didn’t spot Ronald anywhere, thank goodness, but Garrett was nowhere to be seen either. This was one massively failed operation, and she felt both guilty and cowardly. She hated to imagine Garrett’s disappointment in her, but she couldn’t pull this off any longer.

  She skittered to the “service” area, evading Doris, and burst out the door and into the night. She hailed a cab for home.

  When she got there, she grabbed her mail and trudged up to her apartment, her heart still pounding. Thoughts of Garrett rolled through her mind. What had happened to him? Where was he now?

  Swallowing, she glanced at her mail. The heaviest item was, interestingly, the Ellis Corporation Catalog she’d requested for The Nutty Fruit Gift Baskets. She flipped through a few pages, looking for photographs of the Ellis family, but there weren’t any. Just lots of picturesque displays of fruit.

  Towers.

  Pyramids.

  Cornucopias.

  One display featured a heaping arrangement of nuts and dried fruit in a turkey-shaped basket tub. She smiled, set the thick catalog down and checked her phone. No messages.

  So Garrett must still be out in the field.

  She sighed and decided she needed a hot shower after her day. A long one. With her own shampoo and her non-monogrammed towels. So what if they didn’t “spring” back? They were warm, familiar.

  A half hour later, when she finally emerged from the bathroom, the message light on her landline was blinking. She pressed the PLAY button.

  “Hi, Cait.” Garrett’s voice filled the studio apartment and, though she knew he couldn’t see her, that he wasn’t even on the line any longer, she glanced nervously around room as if he could. She straightened her papers and brushed dust off the counter.

  “So, I guess I’m not much of a secret agent, because I not only lost sight of our suspects the minute I ran into the Club, but I got finagled into purchasing a two-month trial membership. I sure hope you fared better.” His laughter surprised her. He sounded so natural, so at ease with his own blunders. By contrast, she never forgave herself for the slightest miscalculation. She always felt, maybe arrogantly, that she should know better.

  “Firenzi Senior gave me a never-ending tour, but I didn’t catch sight of our people again. When last I saw them, they were headed for either the fitness center and spa or the dining area. Knowing Ronald’s sweet tooth, I doubt he was getting a facial. Wish I had more news. Give me a call later, and we can compare notes. Oh, and Cait—let me know if you’re up for a game of golf sometime. Their course is damned impressive.”

  ***

  “So, how’s it going in Washington?” Jacob asked Garrett over the phone.

  “Wisconsin.”

  “Oh, yeah. I heard Marianne couldn’t even convince you to come home for a visit,” his brother said, sounding incredulous, though that news shouldn’t have surprised him.

  “Nope,” Garrett said.

  “Didn’t I already give you the We-Really-Need-You-Here speech? Or how about the It’s-So-Boring-Without-You plea?”

  “Glad I add entertainment value. It’s always a laugh to watch me and Dad battle it out, isn’t it? Microwave some popcorn, grab a soda and kick back.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” his brother said quietly.

  “I know.” Garrett cradled his head in his palm and squeezed his eyes shut to block out that familiar ache.

  “You’ll come back for my birthday, won’t you? No one will have to even know it’s you. Or me, for that matter. I’ve got a Spiderman mask.”

  Garrett laughed. Jacob always had the best birth date, although it was hard to believe the guy was turning thirty-four. He acted like he was fourteen.

  “Halloween or not,” Garrett said, “who’d ever believe Spiderman could break his leg? Isn’t that against Superhero rules or something?”

  “Maybe, but I’m an o
riginal.”

  No kidding, Garrett agreed silently. He was the one who was the imitator. And apparently a screw-up at that, as their father had so succinctly put it last New Year’s Eve. Maybe he deserved to be cut loose from the family. He couldn’t do the things Jacob did, or do them as effortlessly. And his own talents had been regarded as irrelevant for so long he’d almost forgotten he had them.

  Resentment rose inside him, and he had to remember not to take it out on his brother. His father’s favoritism was never Jacob’s fault. Garrett wouldn’t let it poison a good sibling relationship.

  “Look, I won’t promise about Halloween, but I’ll think about it. If I can wrap up a few things here, maybe I’ll be able to get away for the weekend. I’ll buy you a birthday beer—or whatever Spiderman’s having that night.”

  “I’ll keep my tentacles crossed that you’ll show up.” Jacob drew in a long, noisy breath. “Hey, I know this is kind of a crazy thing, but Marianne was prattling on about some Cait person you’d met. You aren’t—” He hesitated. “I mean, the reason you’re staying away isn’t because of a woman, is it?”

  “No,” Garrett answered honestly. Well, at least that’d been true up until now, but Jacob didn’t have to know the details.

  “Thank God. ‘Cause you know women. They’ll screw you up good if you give them a chance.”

  “I’ve heard this lecture before.”

  “But were you paying attention?” Jacob said. “Learn from my experience. Keep it hot. Keep it fresh. Keep it short-term.”

  Garrett had played this very game under Jacob’s tutelage for years. He understood it and could see the sense in it from his brother’s point of view. But there was something vaguely unsatisfying about that lifestyle. He could, if he worked at it, think of Cait in those terms, but he doubted she’d think of him in that way. He couldn’t imagine her consenting to a mere fling.

  No, she had Long-Term Commitment written all over her luscious body.

  He shook his head to himself. He and Cait didn’t have anything permanent going. It probably wouldn’t work if they did, despite her sweetness, brightness and cuteness. He was just in the mood to be contrary to everything typically “Ellis” tonight.

  But the devil in him had to ask his brother one more thing. “So, how are you and Mindy doing these days?”

  “Mindy? Oh, her. We broke up days ago. Been seeing this nurse. Patricia. She does fantastic things with latex gloves…”

  STEP 8:

  Add 1/2 teaspoon of real vanilla extract.

  Absolutely no skimping on tasteless imitation stuff,

  you hear?

  ~From Mr. Koolemar’s Top Secret,

  Kool Kreme Ice Kreamations Recipe Book, pg. 97

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Okay, let’s talk motives,” Cait whispered over her platter of cheese fries and a thick hamburger. “It’s time we put our intuition and imagination to work, instead of relying on pure logic.”

  Garrett glanced around the New Brighton diner, appreciating their corner booth. The red vinyl was as cheesy as the greasy, cheddar-covered fries, but it was a nice secluded spot. For a public locale, anyway. He’d have preferred his place, her place or a locked broom closet, but Cait was playing it cool tonight, and he’d have to take what he could get.

  He reached for a fried mozzarella stick and dipped it in the vat of marinara sauce. Delicious.

  “Mmm,” he told her. “You picked the perfect restaurant for a Friday night dinner.”

  She plucked the pickle off her burger and glared at him. “I know. Now, c’mon. You insisted on getting together to discuss the investigation. Let’s discuss.”

  “Okay, okay.” He took a bite of his own juicy burger and a slurp of his banana-chocolate milkshake. Incredibly rich. At this rate, he’d gain ten pounds before the end of September. “Well, common sense says that money is the draw. We need to find the person who has the most to gain from an increase in fortunes.”

  She shook her head. “That may be true, but step away from reason, logic and common sense for five minutes. What if it’s not about the money? What if it’s about something else—like revenge? Does someone have a chip on his or her shoulder? Something that might motivate an attack on the school district?”

  Sheesh. She had a good point. “All right, let’s say this whole mess is not solely about getting cash. How then, do we determine where the hidden source of resentment lies? Some kind of ‘job satisfaction’ test?”

  She raised her eyebrows, a motion that made his pulse race and his blood heat up every damn time. It drew attention to her clear, intelligent eyes. But, from the look in them, was she thinking about hot passionate nights in his arms? No. She was thinking about Motives For Revenge. He snapped off the end of a fried mozzarella stick with his teeth and watched those eyes widen.

  “What if we did give a test? What if we asked some specific questions geared at determining why, for instance, Shelley McAllister wanted to be a board member? That would have to give us some clues, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I already asked her that.”

  Cait felt her blood pressure rise when Garrett said those words. Of course he’d already asked Shelley. They must’ve had ten thousand conversations since he came to Wisconsin. She forced her voice into neutral. “What did she say?”

  “That she had ‘ideas’ and wanted to occupy herself with community issues.” He shrugged. “She didn’t elaborate, and I wasn’t in the mood to get into a long discussion with her.”

  Yeah, right. “Oh.”

  “But she’s got stepdaughters in the district, so that’s a reason right there. Mike’s got three kids in school, too, and Four Gates is a major business in the community. Doug’s not a parent, but his uncle’s company is a heavy contributor to the school. They paid a large chunk of the building costs for that new gym a few years ago.”

  He paused and speared a cheese fry with his fork. “Sonja’s been cleared. Ronald needs to be seriously investigated regardless. So, that just leaves the teachers. Are they happy with their jobs?”

  Good question. “Jenna’s absolutely never in a bad mood at school. She’s always bouncy and optimistic. I’ve never seen anyone more enthusiastic when it comes to being with her students. Loni and Marlene—” She paused.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I don’t know. They don’t seem any less happy than I am, but we only know each other during the school day, not beyond it. Marlene is laid back. Things rarely agitate her, although she was mad when she thought the Hoopla had been canceled.”

  She gave Garrett a significant look and he rolled his eyes.

  “Loni is more structured, a bit higher strung,” she said. “Both are very well respected teachers, though.”

  “We need more evidence to exonerate them than that.”

  “Well, did you check out their expenditures, like you did mine?” She knew her voice had an edge to it, but it still hurt when she thought about their first meeting. About his motives for wanting to spend time with her.

  He was busy drinking his milkshake, oblivious to her feelings, of course. “Sure,” he said. “But you were more conscientious than anyone else. I already told you that. Although Sonja did a nice job with her records, too. Nothing’s clear—one way or another—on the others.”

  “How do we make it clear?”

  “I think a job satisfaction test might be just the right idea. Let’s brainstorm on that next. But—” He squinted at her. “I’ve also been doing a little research into the vendors, and I came across one glaring problem that needs to be examined further. What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

  ***

  The trees in Ridgewood Grove’s town park provided ample Saturday morning shade as they walked with purpose toward the residence of Alan Koolemar. Garrett found himself enjoying the bright day and the company he was keeping even more, mysterious lady though she was.

  He’d been behaving. Keeping his distance. And his restraint seemed to be paying off. Cait wasn’t exa
ctly warming up, but she wasn’t bolting away from him either.

  He straightened his collar and said, “I don’t want to frighten Mr. Koolemar, but I think we’ll have to talk with him candidly. My analysis showed that, based on the number of customers he reported, his business was continually shortchanged at these festivals. Maybe because he drew in the most people and likewise had the most to lose.”

  She nodded. “I always thought buying tokens at one booth location for the festival made purchases easier to monitor and everything simpler for vendors and festival-goers. The vendors could charge what they thought was fair—three tokens for an ice cream cone, for instance, or two for face painting—and not have to worry about making change. The festival-goers could buy in advance however many tokens they thought they’d need and could use them more easily than cash.”

  Although he’d already researched this, he listened as she explained the system employed during prior events, paying special attention to the distribution of the final profits.

  After festival expenses were deducted, the total profit was determined. This he knew. The tokens’ worth, however, was based upon the final profit, and this fluctuated from year to year. This part was news to him. Proceeds were split evenly between each vendor and the school district, and vendors could begin redeeming tokens for cash once general expenses had been subtracted. The plan, of course, was for everyone to make a fair profit in the end.

  “Doesn’t it all seem straightforward to you?” she said.

  “It does,” he agreed. “Unless the total number of tokens is being tampered with or the amount of cash in the booth is reduced. Then the vendors and school district get less and someone else—a person posing as a vendor, perhaps—gets something for nothing.”