by Celeste Fall
“This whole thing is like living inside a murder mystery,” Tracie said. “How did I miss the call to come to the dining room?”
“I suspect the owner of this fair ship was protecting your reputation—and his—when he failed to mention you were sharing his stateroom,” Jamie replied, smiling. “Even this disappearing act Richie Rich has pulled can’t wipe the satisfied look off Percival’s face. He looks like the old tom cat that was just served a dish of cream. You must have been magnificent.”
“So you’re good with Percival?” Tracie asked, strangely proud of the part she’d played in helping her husband’s business.
“Oh, I think, with your charming performance and Howard’s fortuitous disappearance, Percival will be happy to stay with us.”
Chapter Eleven: Person of Interest
After the Spellman lawyers arrived on the scene, Jamie was questioned by the police. He was told that he was a person of interest because of the heated conversation the evening before.
“What were you arguing about?” Detective Baird asked him.
Pausing to get a nod from his lawyers, Jamie replied, “Howard and I were having an animated discussion about business. You know we are both in investments. We’d both had a lot to drink, I must confess, and our talk may have gotten loud and distracted the merriment of our fellow guests. When I went to the bar for a nightcap, Howard remained on deck. His balance wasn’t too steady. I cautioned him not to get too close to the rail. I won’t tell you what his reply was.”
“When was this?” the detective asked, scanning his notes.
“I’d guess between two thirty and three,” Jamie replied. “I really didn’t check my watch.”
“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?” Detective Baird asked, staring at Jamie knowingly.
“The bartender can attest to when I left the dining room. After that, I crashed in my room … alone. The cameras in the corridors and when I swiped my room card should tell you the rest.”
“What did they ask?” Tracie said, biting her lower lip when Jamie returned. “What will they ask me?”
“Just tell them exactly what happened,” Jamie told her. “Give them as many details as you can recall.”
“Well, that’s just it,” Tracie said, worrying a thumbnail. “I don’t recall much of anything after your mother left. Percival brought me a drink, and the rest of the night is a complete blank.”
“So you don’t remember anything about your romp with old Percy?” asked Jamie. “Pity! I was hoping for details.”
When Tracie returned from questioning, she said, “They asked me why I wasn’t in my room until eight this morning.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I said I was meeting with one of my husband’s business clients, and we lost track of time. I passed out and have no recollection of where I was or what I did until twenty to eight this morning. I admitted I’d had a lot to drink and much of the evening was a blur. They asked me if I’d witnessed the argument between you and Howard.”
“What did you tell them?” Jamie asked.
“The truth. You were busy talking with clients, and I was pretty much left to my own devices. If you had a discussion with this man, I didn’t notice or I had already left the party by then.”
“That’s good, babe,” Jamie replied. “Unless they can produce witnesses or damning photos or a body, they haven’t got much of a case. Who knows? Howard may have pulled a disappearing act. I heard he and his wife are having problems.”
Chapter Twelve: Oh, What a Tangled Web
Eventually, everyone was questioned and sent on their way. Jamie was instructed to make himself available should the police have more questions. He and his father seemed tense in the days that followed, but Tracie tacked that up to concerns about accounts of their biggest clients and to the fact that there was still no sign of Howard Rich.
While not warm and welcoming, Marilyn seemed grudgingly resigned to Tracie’s place in the family. In spite of the uneasy truce between the two women, both avoided the other. Marilyn was kept busy with her charity fundraising projects, lunch at the country club, her personal trainer, and a round of golf once a week with her long-standing foursome.
Tracie was content to make meals, put the finishing touches on her new house, and sun by the pool. She’d taken Lottie up on her offer to ride. Both Jamie and his father were delighted that she was spending time with an important client.
Percival had called to apologize for having departed from his stateroom so hastily the morning Howard Rich went missing. He invited Jamie and her to dine aboard his yacht, and they’d had a pleasant time. No reference to what had transpired on their last visit had been mentioned. While he was an attentive host, Percival did not make overtures to Tracie.
Just as things seemed to be returning to normal, Jamie opened the paper one morning and whistled. “Whoa! What do we have here?”
Tracie glanced at the social section. There were photos of her and Jamie boarding the yacht. Then her eyes traveled to another, larger photo. “Who is the Mystery Guest?” the headline read. The caption identified the man leaning over the bed as billionaire financier Percival Wrigley. Clearly, there was a naked woman on the bed, but her face was hidden. The edge of a small rose tattoo peeked out of the sheet carelessly thrown over her.
Tracie and Jamie recognized the small rose tattoo. “Where did this come from?” Tracie asked in horror.
“Someone must have planted a camera in old Percy’s room,” Jamie said. “Chill out, babe. No one knows about that tattoo except you and me—and maybe Percival—if he wasn’t too drunk or distracted to notice. It’s fine. In fact, this photo might be good insurance that Percival won’t soon be contemplating yanking his account from Spellman Financial. Whoever leaked this to the press may have done us a favor.”
He walked down the hall, whistling. “Dad and I have a meeting this afternoon. We’re meeting here because we want to avoid the press that has been sniffing around. Will you bring us coffee, babe? And stop worrying. You look like the kid who stole cookies from the cookie jar. Relax! Everything will work out just fine.”
Still upset by the photo, Tracie busied herself in the kitchen setting out coffee things. She was just about to push open the door of the study and deliver the tray of coffee and snacks when she overheard the two men talking. She froze in her tracks.
“That was a great plan, Jamie. I’ve got to hand it to you. I was thinking about hiring a hooker to warm up old Percival. But using your wife as “‘bait” ’ for Percival? That was inspired. Who’d have thought you could get that girl to agree to charm old Percy. Is she that hot?”
“Dad, hot doesn’t even begin to describe it. That girl will cream her pants before I lay a hand on her. That motorcycle I bought? Giant sex turn turn-on. She has an orgasm just hugging me and riding that machine. I told you she was a great find. She’s already got Lottie eating out of her hand like one of her fancy horses. I can hardly wait to turn her lose on old Harold Hargrave.”
“You’re right. Old Hard Woody will get a stiffy just watching her moves. When can we set that up?” asked Jamie’s father. “We’ve got to make sure our big accounts are secure before that ass Howard Rich gets back on the scene.”
“I know, Dad, but I don’t want to push too hard. I want to keep some of that action for myself. Can’t give it all away. Besides, I don’t want Tracie to get suspicious.”
“That’s a good point. Hey! Are you still seeing that little secretary you set up in the condo in Macon?”
Jamie nodded. “She’s been a good source of information on potential clients, working at the bank. But she’s bucking for a promotion. If she leaves the investments department, she won’t be as much use to us as she has been. Besides, she is making nesting noises again. And the fees just went up on that condo. I’m thinking it might be time to cut our losses there.”
“Whatever you think, son. You’ve always had a good sense of timing with those contacts. I’ll miss the action
I was getting with her, though. She was far enough away that your mother didn’t know anything about her, and yet, an easy drive when I was supposed to be at a conference.”
“Any blowback from the missing Howard Rich?” asked Jamie.
“Our lawyers say the police are tabling that case. It’s hard to charge someone when there’s no body and no evidence of foul play.”
“I’d be very surprised if they ever find a body,” Jamie said. “Those waters are full of sharks. If a drunk fell overboard, he’d be shark meat before he sank to the bottom. Nothing left out there except a Rolex!”
“How’d you get him over the railing?” asked Alan.
“Piece of cake! Drugged his drink. Flipped him over as he was passing out. , Then then continued to play the shouting match for another ten minutes. Came back inside shouting a final argument at where people thought Howard was still standing. Then had a scotch nightcap and off to bed. My key card and the cameras in the hall were my alibi.”
“I hope I never get on the wrong side of you, son,” said his father.
“Not as long as you’re signing my checks, Dad.”
“So how much longer are we going to need your wife?” asked Alan. “Your mother is making a big fuss about Tiffany again.”
“Tell Mom to cool her jets. Tiffany is never going to be as useful to us as Tracie is. Besides, Audra and Lottie like her. We don’t want to piss them off!”
“No. That’s for sure. Your grandmother still scares the shit out of me. And as for that Amazon friend of hers? I shudder to think what she’d do to us.”
“When Tracie goes, it will have to be her idea. We can’t risk bad press.”
“Speaking of the press,” Alan said, “how did they get their hands on those Percival tapes?”
“You mean from the cameras I installed in his stateroom?” asked Jamie.
“You put those cameras in there?”
“Of course. I wanted to see what was happening. The idea of leaking a shot where the girl’s face isn’t visible came to me later. It’s insurance against Percival in case he decides to take his business elsewhere.”
“I’ve got to hand it to you, son. You’ve got a shrewd mind, just like your grandfather.”
“I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet him,” Jamie commented. “He must have been something.”
“He was something. That’s for sure. Meanest old son of a bitch you’d ever want to meet. He’d cheat his own grandmother. And he didn’t hesitate to beat us over the smallest things he deemed infractions. The husband Audra likes to paint for the public is not the father I remember. I don’t blame her for taking up with Lottie. I’d have sworn off men, too, if I’d been her. The business would not be still standing if Mother hadn’t poured her inheritance into it.”
“I wonder if Tracie has forgotten about the coffee,” Jamie remarked.
“You asked her to bring it down here?” he father exclaimed. “What if she heard us talking?”
“Chill out, Dad. Tracie adores me. And so what if she heard us talking? It’s not like a wife can testify against her husband.”
“If you were her husband,” Alan reminded him.
“Well, there’s that,” Jamie admitted. “I don’t like to think what would happen if Tracie ever guessed our wedding was sheer fiction.”
“The things we do to keep Marilyn happy!” exclaimed Alan. “You know she still expects you to marry that socialite?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Jamie replied. “Tiffany is too prim and proper to make an interesting wife. I have some plans that the straight-laced Tiffany would never agree to. Tracie hasn’t outlived her usefulness yet. Tiffany will always be available if we need her pedigree and her father’s millions. Mother will see to that.”
“So what are these plans?” Alan asked.
“Well, I’m thinking of turning the basement into an S&M dungeon of sorts,” Jamie said. “I broached the idea of inviting another couple, and Tracie didn’t say no. She seemed only concerned that it not happen in our bedroom.”
“You lucky SOB!” exclaimed Alan. “It’d be a hot day in December before I ever got Marilyn to agree to anything other than the missionary position, once a month. There’s a reason you’re an only child.”
“Too much information, Dad,” Jamie shuddered.
“So who do you have in mind? Anyone I know?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Tracie seemed to hit it off with your new accountant’s wife.”
“The one with the great legs?” asked Alan.
“I thought we’d feel them out and see what they had to say,” suggested Jamie. “Any problems with that?”
“Why would I have a problem?” asked Alan.
“Well, Ronald works for us. If it doesn’t work out, it could make things a little sticky at work.”
“No problem. If it doesn’t work out, we can always come up with some reason to fire him. It’s not without precedent. Remember those secretaries you dated?”
“Now that I think about it,” remarked Jamie, “they aren’t there anymore.”
“Exactly,” said his dad. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“I could use a cup of coffee.”
Just then, there was a tap at the door. Jamie opened it to find Tracie balancing a large tray with coffee cups, a coffee pot, and a plate of cookies. “Sorry I took so long,” she said with a smile. “The tray was heavy.”
Her mind whirled as she deftly poured coffee and passed homemade chocolate chip cookies.
When she returned to the kitchen, she picked up the phone and dialed. A raspy voice answered. “Lottie,” said Tracie, “we need to talk.”
Epilogue: She who Who Laughs Last
With a sigh of contentment, Tracie looked at the final copy of her exclusive fashion designs. The show was all set. Her efficient staff had worked out all the details. She smiled as she pictured the Spellmans’ posh friends seated at their thousand-dollar-a-plate tables, ogling her unique designs and paying four four-figure prices to acquire the honor of wearing a Tracie Rutherford original gown.
It was unbelievable that three years had elapsed since she’d discovered how the Spellmans had used her, manipulated her to pleasure their clients, and then intended to cast her aside, penniless and demoralized. Well, the last laugh had been on them—thanks to the surprising support of her unlikely friends: , Lottie Chambers and Audra Spellman.
Tracie’s tearful call to Lottie had produced almost instant results. With a quavering voice, Tracie had told the two friends how Jamie intended to pimp her out to charm the male clients. She related how Jamie and his father had conspired to get rid of their chief competitor, Howard Rich, and how her marriage wasn’t legal.
Audra paled when Tracie told them Jamie had purchased a condo for a girl who worked for a competing bank and that, in return, she had given them the names of prospective clients. With a shudder, she described how both men were having sex with this girl.
“So, what do they intend to do if you don’t go along?” asked Lottie.
“I can answer that,” Audra replied. “They will do what they have always done. Turf out what is no longer expedient to keep. Tracie isn’t married to my grandson, apparently, so she’d get nothing.”
“Well, that’s a little cold-blooded—even for them,” Lottie said.
“There are lots of bodies buried under Spellman Investments,” Audra murmured. “Some of them were disposed of by my dearly departed.”
“So what should we do, Audra?” asked Lottie.
“Leave those two to me,” Audra said. “I know how to play their game.” With a hard-eyed glance at the other women, she picked up the phone.
The two women had swooped in and convinced Tracie that her eye for business attire was a gold mine. They’d bankrolled her first fashion showing of her exclusive line of business clothes. Now she was releasing a new line of evening wear. Since both women were hugely successful in their individual fields, Tracie had allowed
them to rescue her. Their investment in her fashion house had proved astute. They’d made a bundle on that startup and had insisted on ploughing the profits back into her business. As a result, Tracie did not have to go public to fund her latest expansion. She didn’t have to answer to a board of directors—just two feisty ladies.
Tracie thought back with amusement to Avril’s assessment of her clothing sense. She knew her former assistant must be cringing at Tracie’s success in a field where the proper Brit thought she was an abysmal failure.
