Kasey knew it well. Clementine’s was a going concern, a new bar and restaurant near Meadowood. By day, it catered to hordes of shoppers, and by night, with the live music, dance floor, barrel-sized drinks, and young, good-looking personnel—where flowing hair and exposed skin seemed the chief criteria—it rocked to a beat of a different kind. And Kasey knew that wherever business was good, really good, there was someone with a hand in the till.
“Go on.”
“Business is booming, but you wouldn’t know it by the night receipts.”
“Do you work out of the bar, Mr. Tate?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m here most nights. We’re closed Sundays.”
Kasey quoted her fee and the terms, said she would come out one night during the week to watch the action, then give him a report the following day.
“What night you coming?” he asked.
“I think it’s best if no one has that information, not even you, Mr. Tate.”
“Tonight?”
“Sorry, I have plans.” She thought of the wedding at the Kings’ that afternoon. “Next week.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“I’ll be in touch.” She hung up, stood, and sluggishly followed the aroma of brewing coffee down the spiral staircase to the kitchen.
*
Kasey closed the front door of her bungalow, being careful to make no noise. As usual she didn’t bother to lock it. No one would mess with anything. She quickly crossed the yard to the back door of her mother’s rooming house, climbed the steps, and almost made it inside before the dog rounded the side of the house and made a lunge for her.
“Down, Snickers, down!” she said gruffly to the six-month- old Saint Bernard who every morning greeted her by jumping up, his sopping tongue attempting to lick the blush right off her cheeks. She pushed at the dog, trying to keep dusty paws the size of baseball mitts off her new dress. “I swear to God, Snick, you’re heading for obedience school. Down! Get dowww—Ma!”
In an instant, Marianne Atwood had the door open. She held a spray bottle, the one she used to mist the indoor plants. “Out of the way, Kasey. Andy said this would calm him down.” Andy was the mailman on their rural route. Her mother began to squirt the dog in the face.
Snickers turned toward the water. Instead of discouraging him, the dog opened its mouth and lapped at the shooting stream happily, only to shake his head and send water flying. Kasey hurried inside, leaving her mother to handle the situation.
A moment later, Marianne was back, empty-handed. As she closed the door, she looked out, shaking her head. “Well, there goes my good watering bottle. Dumb animal, dumb, dumb.” She slammed the door, turned, and marched to the sink. “You know what he did this morning? He pulled up one of my new rose bushes, roots and all. Never saw anything like it, a dog who likes to chew on thorns. How’d we get stuck with such a dumb-dumb?”
There was no point in reminding her mother that everyone in the area knew what a sucker Marianne was for stray animals. One way or another, God’s creatures found their way to her door. Four months ago, the puppy had been left on the back porch in an empty Snickers box.
“My, you look nice,” Marianne said. “It’s about time you did something fun for a change. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.”
“I’ll try to catch the bouquet.”
Her mother got that serious look. Oh-oh, Kasey thought, here it comes again.
“Kasey, honey, Kevin has been dead eleven years. It certainly wouldn’t be disrespectful to his memory if you married again.”
“I married again. And divorced. Remember?”
“That one didn’t count,” she said brusquely. “Whose wedding did you say you were going to?”
“The niece of an old friend. Actually it’s an interview for a new assignment. Wish me luck. It could be just the job to get us out of the hole.”
“Oh, Kasey, it shouldn’t be up to you to fix this. I could go to work. Lord knows, I’ve had plenty experience cooking, cleaning, and waiting on people.”
The thought of her mother looking for a job outside the home at her age made Kasey ill. Not that she wasn’t as strong as an ox and couldn’t do the work of two people, but her mother loved the ranch, loved tending to it and to the four boarders who resided there.
“No, absolutely not,” Kasey said, giving her mother a reassuring hug. “We’ll be just fine. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’m getting some really good vibes about this job offer.”
Chapter Three
At the top of the hill, above the golf course in north Sparks, the sister city to The Biggest Little City In The World, a hot July breeze softly caressed the yards of white streamers, floral bouquets, and elaborate bows, wedding decorations carefully arranged over the lavishly landscaped rear yard of the King residence. At two o’clock the wedding reception was well under way. The outdoor ceremony, with the bride and groom exchanging vows under a white lattice arch between the waterfall and the natural-rock swimming pool, had gone beautifully, as well as the sit-down brunch for two hundred. Guests were scattered all about the sprawling grounds. The young revelers, those who weren’t dancing, playing tennis, or swimming, hung out at the portable bars, fast getting bombed on top-quality booze.
Kasey Atwood joined a small group at the edge of the pool. At the center of the group, looking aristocratic in a chic silk dress and wide-brimmed hat that shaded smoky gray eyes, stood the hostess, Dianne King. Kasey had to admire Dianne. She was a clever, determined woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to go after it. Although Dianne certainly looked the part, her highborn manner was acquired, not inbred, and no one knew it better than Kasey. When in their early twenties, Kasey and her pal Dianne had run cocktails at King’s Club.
Kasey let her gaze sweep over the grounds and the house. It was really something, all right. Opulent. Pricy. Yet, Kasey felt no envy. She was content with what she had. She, along with Dianne, had achieved her goal. Dianne had married the owner of King’s Club and assumed his social status, and Kasey ran her own consultant business.
Over the gurgle of the waterfall, Dianne went on about one community event after another. Unable to keep her mind on the conversation, Kasey found her attention drifting. Instead of relaxing and enjoying herself, she watched, especially the help—mentally working. Which was one reason Kasey was here today. Earlier in the week Dianne had called to discuss an assignment at the club. The wedding invitation was something of an afterthought. Kasey, needing a break from the business and curious to see the King estate, accepted. Now, after an afternoon of being social, of eating, drinking, smiling, and chatting with strangers, she was eager to get back to work. And, she told herself, more than a little intrigued at the prospect of working at King’s Club again.
It had been there in the Sutro Bar eleven years ago that Kasey first became interested in the business of “spotting” as a profession. Sexual harassment had been the catalyst. Her supervisor, Buddy Walker, and the bartender, Leonard Smart, had made Kasey’s working hours sheer hell. It began innocently enough with jokes, then moved on to sexual innuendos, propositions, and ultimately assault.
Kasey had been on her own. Rumor had it Dianne was involved with the owner’s son, and Walker and Smart had enough sense to lay off. The day Walker trapped Kasey in the supply room and shoved a sweaty hand up the short skirt of her uniform was the day Kasey went to Ralph King, Jay’s father, who had listened patiently to her complaint, sympathized with her grievance, then informed her that the accused were two of his best employees, therefore too valuable to risk losing. When she told him they were stealing him blind, he asked for proof. Two weeks later, she had enough concrete evidence to take back to King. King fired both men on the spot, then further surprised her by offering her the supervisor position.
Kasey finished her champagne and moved away from the group. Dianne caught her eye, nodded when Kasey pointed to her empty glass.
“Ten minutes? Jay’s office?” Dianne said. “Do you know the way?”
�
�I’ll find it.”
As she moved toward the nearest bar, Kasey had observed that all afternoon the bartenders, two to each portable bar, four bars in all, shamelessly hustled tips and that occasionally one disappeared and stayed gone longer than she considered customary.
Instead of stopping at the bar, she put down the empty glass and walked on by, heading toward the lot where the caterers and domestic help parked their cars. A bartender had gone this way a few minutes earlier for a second time. Just before rounding the corner of the house, she heard the soft thunk of a car trunk closing.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Kasey ducked into the shadows of a deep arch at a side door. A moment later, one of the white-gloved servers, wearing a cardigan with the front crossed snugly over her protruding abdomen, passed. By the size and shape, Kasey suspected that what she cradled to her bosom like a tender babe was a prime rib roast. The woman hurried past, heading down the incline to a row of parked cars.
Kasey followed, staying close to the house, out of sight. The parking area was tiered. She stopped behind a van on the tier above and watched the woman approach the bartender at the rear of a brown Ford Escort. The trunk opened, a mesh bag went inside. From where Kasey stood, she could see down into the trunk. It was filled with booty, enough food and booze to cater another wedding party.
The woman got into the car and quickly drove away, incriminating evidence gone with her.
Kasey automatically registered the license plate number before ducking back behind the van to wait for the bartender to return to the house. Several moments later, she heard his footsteps heading her way.
Suddenly someone had her by the arm. She spun around, drove her hand straight down, knocking the hand away, then backed up, out of reach.
“Oww! Goddammit, that hurt!” he said, rubbing his arm.
Expecting the bartender, Kasey was surprised to see a man in his mid-twenties. A man who looked vaguely familiar. Beneath neatly trimmed dark hair, a sharp-planed jaw gave him a seasoned look, and if not for a certain innocence in his soft brown eyes and full lips, he would have looked much older. He was dressed in a tux, the jacket now missing, the bow tie undone. The best man.
“What do you want?” she said.
“What do I want? I’m the one who should be asking that question. These are my wheels,” he said, running a loving hand over the side mirror. “This happens to be my van you were trying to break into.”
“Trying to break in—Oh, come on! Do I look like someone who’d break into your van? Or anyone’s van?”
“So what are doing here?” When she didn’t answer, he grinned and said, “You’re waiting for someone. Right? A guy. A boyfriend. The bartender. Shit, you came out here to meet that bartender?”
She tried to push past him.
“You missed him, honey. Your friend went back to the house.”
“Thank you.” She tried to go the other way.
“Hey, look, how about me? How about I buy you a drink? Champagne? I can get us a bottle. Two bottles. A case of the best. We can go for a ride.”
She pushed him aside.
“Maybe later, huh? A dance? Save me a dance.” As she hurried back to the house, he called out, “Hey, what’s your name?”
*
A housekeeper led Kasey through the large house of Grecian design in shades of white, pale pink, and Windsor blue to a wing far removed from the pool and the noisy wedding reception. At a closed door at the end of the hallway she tapped lightly. “Come in,” a male voice called out.
Kasey opened the door and stepped into a spacious room of dark wood accented by tones of hunter green, deep gold, and garnet, a sharp but pleasant contrast to the washed-out interior of the rest of the house. A soft light, which filtered through the wood-shuttered windows, gave the office a rich, glowing ambience, as warm and welcome as a blazing fire in an open hearth on a chilly day. Today the room was cool, compliments of central air, but the pleasing glow prevailed.
Kasey closed the door, stood with her back to it. The oxblood leather wing chair behind the walnut desk was empty.
“It’s good to see you again, Kasey,” Jay King said from across the room. After slipping out of his tuxedo jacket and draping it over the back of a chair, he turned to her. “What’s it been? Seven years?”
She smiled. “Something like that.”
“At the open house?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t make it that night. Something came up.” What came up was a divorce from her second husband. The final papers had arrived the day of the Kings’ house warming and she had been in no mood to celebrate that evening, or even to be civil. So Kasey had called Dianne to cancel. Jay and Dianne had officially taken over the late Ralph King’s home, a move Dianne had eagerly anticipated since her marriage to Jay two years earlier. She remembered Dianne had become angry, accusing her of being jealous and spiteful. “I counted on your being here,” Dianne had complained. “You know I don’t know half these people.”
Most of “these people” were now outside having a good time. Dianne now knew them all. It was Kasey whom Dianne did not know.
“You’re looking very well,” he said in his quiet, low-pitched voice. “In fact, you’re looking—is it permissible for a man who is about to offer a woman an assignment to say that she’s looking quite lovely? It’s hard to know what to say these days.”
“Since I haven’t accepted your offer yet, I’ll take it as the compliment it was meant to be. Thank you. You’re looking very well yourself.”
And she meant it. At forty-two, Jay King was tall and trim, in good shape—his once-black hair now streaked with silver, his blue eyes as clear and bright as she remembered. He had a face that had matured early in life, held, and would probably continue to hold for many years to come, merely becoming more distinguished with age. His eyes and mouth were his best features. A crooked eyebrow and his nose, a fraction off-center (probably from being broken years ago), added enough character to categorize him as ruggedly handsome. Today, in the tux, he looked incredibly debonair. Years ago, Kasey had had a crush on Jay, but of course he had never noticed her because he had been too dazzled by Dianne and her charms. Seeing him again after all these years made her feel a strange tugging deep inside. She realized she was still attracted to him, and she wondered if that would in any way influence her work performance should she accept his offer. She decided to adopt an attitude of wait and see.
He gave her a small smile, looked away. “Dianne should be along soon. Something about a crisis in the kitchen.”
Kasey wondered if she should tell her host about the trunkload of his food and drink that was on its way to places unknown. This meeting today was to discuss a prospective job at the club and had nothing to do with his home and the hired help. He might consider it meddling if she brought it up. She had dealt with all kinds, and she knew that not everyone was eager to learn they’d been deceived or cheated, especially by employees whom they liked and trusted.
“How is business?” he asked.
“Busy. I’ve had to take on help for the smaller jobs.”
“You like your work?” He went to the window.
“Very much.”
“Do you ever just relax and let go?” He stood looking out. He motioned to her to join him. When she did, he said, “When you’re at a party or a wedding reception, is it possible for you to dissociate yourself from your job?”
She followed his gaze. To the extreme left she saw the parking area where she had followed the bartender and maid. She turned to him. “You saw?”
He nodded. “I know a little something about spotting, too. I’ve been gouged more times than I care to admit. At shindigs like this in particular. Those two were pretty damn sloppy. They think because of the number of people, the confusion, the drinking, no one will notice.”
“And they’re right,” she said. “Most employers are too trusting or they close their eyes to a little pilfering, thinking that if they lower the boom they
’re going to be ripped off big time.”
He smiled, nodded. “True. How true. Dianne says you’re very good, and after today I have to agree. We could use you at the club.”
“In what capacity?”
“Showing my nephew the ropes. The spy business, as it were.”
“Your nephew?”
“Dianne told you we took in my niece and nephew last year when my brother died of cancer, didn’t she?”
“No. No, she didn’t. She just said that your niece was getting married here at the house.”
He nodded, looked outside again. “They’re really a couple of great kids. Well, not kids anymore. Their mother died when they were small and their father, my brother, raised them. Did a fine job. They used to spend their summers here when my dad was alive. They stopped coming after Dianne and I took over the place. Dianne, well, as you know, Dianne has never had much patience for kids.”
How well Kasey knew. After Dianne’s divorce from her first husband, she had given him full custody of their two-year-old son. Once she confessed to Kasey that although she loved her son with all her heart, she just wasn’t cut out to be a mother.
“I’m going to miss Brenda,” Jay was saying. “After their honeymoon in Egypt, they’ll be moving to Chicago.”
“And your nephew?”
“Next month, he’ll begin his final year at the university. After graduation, he’ll come into the business with me. He’s been working at the club summers and breaks for years now, so he knows a little about the industry. He’s not as mature as his sister. But he’s a quick study.”
They were interrupted by the door’s opening. Dianne entered, and with her was the young man from the van.
Kasey was taken aback by his appearance. Wearing his tuxedo jacket, his black tie in place again, for just a moment there he looked like Kevin. Kevin in his tuxedo on their wedding day. She felt a wrenching deep inside.
Jay turned. “Ah, there you two are. Brad, have you met Kasey Atwood yet?”
“Not officially,” he said. He quickly crossed the room and took her hand. It felt more like an embrace than a greeting. “It’s my pleasure. Miss Atwood.”
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