Undercover Fiance

by Sheryl Lynn

  All of them looked guilty. If one were Pinky and this meeting enraged him, what kind of stunt would he pull to top arson and vandalism?

  “Where is Lanny?” Janine asked. She glanced at her watch. “And Devon?”

  “Lanny will be here in a sec, Ms. Duke,” Craig said. “He’s cleaning up.”

  “And Devon?”

  The employees looked at one another. None offered an explanation for the wrangler’s tardiness. Janine encouraged them to sit She and Daniel had arranged it so the six would be seated directly across the table from her. Lanny Lewis hurried into the room. Tall and gangly, he stumbled on the carpet and blushed. His hands were damp and raw. Mumbling apologies, he sat at the table.

  “We’ll wait for Devon,” Janine said.

  Daniel dropped his feet to the floor, but he continued playing with the puzzle. The five young people fidgeted on the chairs. They looked as if they wanted to whisper to each other but didn’t dare.

  Devon arrived. Gaze fixed on the floor, hat in hand, he shuffled into the room. Skinny and long-legged, he wore tight jeans and square-toed boots crusted with mud. A clumsy, dirty-looking bandage bound his left hand. After he sat down, Janine asked about his hand.

  He mumbled something and she caught the words ...bit me.

  “Pardon?”

  His cheeks turned crimson. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he tucked his wounded hand beneath the table. “Got bit.”

  “A horse bit you?” Janine asked. She wanted to grab his collar and shake him.

  The blush touched his ears.

  “Let me see.” Ellen reached for his hand. Devon nearly fell off the chair. The other young men laughed.

  “That’s enough,” Janine said. Pity mingled with suspicion. “You make sure Cody sees that, Devon. If it needs medical attention, you get it.”

  He sank on the chair. A few more inches and he’d be under the table.

  “Got bit, huh?” Daniel slammed the puzzle on the table. Pieces scattered. “Or maybe you cut it when you slashed my tires.”

  All heads swiveled toward Daniel. Even though Janine had known this was coming, Daniel’s outburst shocked her, anyway. The man had missed his true calling. With his looks and his acting skills, he could be a major movie star.

  “Yeah, you, cowboy. I’m talking to you. I’m talking to all of you. One of you creeps trashed my brand-new truck and I’m—”

  “Daniel.” Janine placed a hand on his arm. “Please, dear, I told you I would get to the bottom of this.”

  All the young men, with the exception of Devon who looked ready to crawl under the table, glared at Daniel. Ellen pressed a hand over her mouth.

  “You better handle it, cupcake.” He clamped his arms over his chest. His thin sweater strained over his powerfully muscled arms.

  “This is my friend, Daniel Tucker—”

  “Boyfriend,” he interrupted. Mr. Charm had disappeared, replaced by an irritable oaf with a petulant scowl. “And guest.”

  She forced herself to speak. “As you may be aware, an employee is stalking me. He calls himself Pinky. For the past year he’s been sending me letters and gifts. None of which I want or encourage. This person is responsible for setting the garage on fire and for vandalizing Daniel’s truck. He’s masking threats. While he has deluded himself into believing I am flattered by the attention, I most assuredly am not. I think it’s sick and disgusting. I want it to stop.”

  Brian Cadwell grasped the table edge with both hands. He blinked owlishly. “You think it’s one of us?”

  “I think it’s one of you.” Daniel jumped to his feet. His chair flew backward, and the table bucked with the force of his hands. “And once I get my hands on Pinky, I’m going to rip out his lungs. After he pays for the damages.”

  Like school kids facing a teacher throwing a temper tantrum. all six cringed wide-eyed and silent on their chairs.

  Ellen fingered her brass name tag. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “Is that so?” Daniel was poised as if about to leap over the table. “I want to know which one of you is sending my girlfriend love notes. Who cut the love note into my truck? Huh? Is it you, cowboy? Think you’re cute?”

  Devon’s head quivered in what might be either a negative reply or sheer terror. Janine’s heart ached with sympathy. Pain thudded like hoofbeats inside her skull.

  “Now, Daniel,” she said. “We aren’t exactly accusing anybody. Please calm down, dear.”

  “I’ll calm down when the little sneak shows some guts.” His eyes flashed with coppery fire. He pointed at Jason. “Is it you, kid? I saw the way you were looking at Janine the other day.”

  Jason’s mouth thinned to a white line.

  Daniel swung his accusatory finger toward Craig. “Or you? Did you trash my truck? Are you harassing my girl?”

  Time to play the good cop, she thought grimly. Janine caught Daniel’s hand. His muscles flexed. “I told you I’d ask the questions. We can get to the bottom of this without a lot of shouting or making wild accusations.”

  “Fine. If some guy wants to play sixth-grader and send you mushy notes, I don’t care. But trashing my truck? I want to know who did it.” He righted the fallen chair and sat hard.

  “You keep saying guy,” Ellen said. She darted timid glances at Daniel. “Why am I here?”

  “I saw a girl sneaking around in the parking lot the other morning. It looked like you.” Daniel glared at the young woman. “Just like you.”

  Ellen shook her head hard. “It wasn’t me, Ms. Duke! Honest! You can ask my roommate. I start shift at five o’clock in the morning. I was in my room all night.”

  “I was in my room, too,” Brian exclaimed. “At least until three in the morning. That’s when I start mixing bread dough. This isn’t fair! You can’t accuse us just because your boyfriend says so.”

  Lanny Lewis spoke up. “This is like being back in high school.”

  “Scraping up a truck is a high school thing to do,” Daniel said. “Did you think keying cars is funny, kid?”

  Lanny hugged his elbows and glared daggers at Daniel

  All of them were angry. Except for Devon Hightower. He stared at his boots, his expression mortified. “Okay, okay.” She rapped the tabletop with her knuckles. “You’re right, this isn’t fair. But it is very serious. We’re talking about crimes. Arson. The truck sustained thousands of dollars worth of damages. Do any of you know who might have done this? Have you heard anything?”

  Daniel snorted disparagingly. “Why bother, cupcake? Pinky’s a punk. He doesn’t have the guts to step forward.”

  “We’re not punks,” Craig said. Hot spots of color flared on his cheeks and forehead. He rested his clenched fists on the table. “I’m not a punk.”

  “So what do you know?” Daniel shot back.

  “Nothing!”

  Ellen cleared her throat. “We can ask around. See if anybody knows who Pinky is. Right, guys? I mean, we’re kind of like family here, right?” Her chin trembled and her voice turned watery. “You aren’t going to fire anybody, are you?”

  Craig snorted and flipped hair out of his face. “If you want to know something, Ms. Duke, you should just ask.”

  “I am asking. Do any of you know anything about Pinky?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “No way.”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Nope.”

  Devon Hightower shook his head.

  Janine looked to Daniel for guidance. Other than causing major embarrassment for everyone concerned, she didn’t see how they were accomplishing anything.

  Daniel draped an arm over her shoulders. “All I know is, somebody trashed my truck. I’m not going anywhere until I find out who did it. So if you know who Pinky is, tell him this for me. When I catch him I’m going to use his little pinhead to buff out every scratch on my Tahoe.”

  “Uh.” Brian shifted on the chair. “How do you know Pinky even works here?” He
slid a glance at Jason who sat next to him. “We got a lot of guests who are freaks. Snowboarders. They get kind of crazy.”

  “Hey!” Craig leaned over to see the chef’s assistant. “Snowboarders aren’t freaks. Fat mama’s boys are the freaks.”

  Janine rapped on the table. “Be quiet. I know for a fact that Pinky works here. He, uh, he sends very personal let ters. He acts as if we’re well acquainted despite the fact that I have no idea who he is.”

  Daniel nudged her knee with his.

  Continuing tore her up inside. It sounded so stupid. She sounded stupid. “I have never knowingly had any contact with him. I haven’t the slightest interest in him on any level. I don’t know why he is stalking me. I want it to end.”

  “He’s pretty damned pathetic,” Daniel said in aside. He hugged Janine so tightly she nearly slid off the chair. “I come here for a nice vacation, to spend some time with the woman I love, and what do I find? Some loser who doesn’t even have the guts to look me in the face.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Ellen said. “About your truck and everything. But none of us did it. I didn’t do it.”

  “It doesn’t make me happy to have to question you like this.” Janine met the eyes of each employee in turn. Except for Devon. He refused to lift his head. His shyness was getting on her nerves. “I can’t tolerate having a criminal on staff. It’s reached a point where if there’s another incident like the garage fire, we’ll have to follow police recommendations and close the resort Everyone could lose their jobs.”

  “The cops want you to close Elk River?” Brian looked stunned.

  Is it you, Brian? she asked with her eyes. “It’s for the safety of the guests.”

  “I say shut the joint down, cupcake.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You can come live with me. I’ll take you on that cruise through the Greek islands you’ve always wanted.”

  Craig relaxed, but rebellion glinted in his eyes. “Maybe some crime victims get what they deserve.”

  “You got a problem with me, stud?” Daniel sounded dangerous.

  “I get paid to crank wrenches, not to listen to some rich dude whine about scratches on his fancy truck.”

  “Got the hots for my girlfriend? Want to talk about it?”

  “I ain’t talking to you, man.” Craig stood. “I don’t get paid enough to take this crap off nobody.” He stalked to the door and jerked it open. He paused as if waiting to be called back.

  Janine opened her mouth, but Daniel nudged her knee again. She remained silent. Craig slammed the door behind him. The remaining employees shuffled and squirmed. Lanny cracked his knuckles, each pop like a tiny firecracker.

  Brian raised his hand. The childish action made Lanny snicker. Ellen hid a grin behind her hand. Brian snatched his hand onto his lap.

  “Yes, Brian?”

  He leaned far over the table as if separating himself from the group. “Craig’s a freak,” he whispered. “He smokes dope when he goes snowboarding. Him and his room—”

  Lanny punched Brian’s shoulder. “Shut up, you little suck-up!”

  “It’s true!” Brian cried. He rubbed his shoulder. “I hear those guys talking all the time.”

  “That is enough,” Janine said. Pinky or no Pinky, watching this bunch revert to sophomoric name calling and tattling was too much. “Unless one of you has some useful information, you may go.”

  Chapter Eight

  Janine shoved Daniel’s arm off her shoulders and drop her forehead to the table. Imagined whispers rippled through the now quiet conference room: Ms Duke is crazy. Her boyfriend is crazy. She’s mean and unfair and out of control.

  “That went well,” Daniel said.

  She turned her head enough to see him. “If you’re the Marquis de Sade.”

  He patted her back. “We can eliminate Craig.”

  “Huh? I thought he’d be at the top of your list. I’m ready to fire him just for being rude.”

  “The kid’s got an attitude problem, but he isn’t Pinky.”

  She began gathering paperwork. The headache encircled her skull, squeezing her brain. Maybe it was a migraine. Maybe she had a brain tumor. Maybe an aneurysm bulged in her brain, soon to explore. “He looked like he was ready to start punching you. For all I know he’s waiting for you right now.”

  “Pinky has only one hobby. That’s you. Craig’s a snow boarder. I bet if you talk to his friends they’ll tell you he hits the slopes every chance he gets. Besides, Pinky isn’t going to do anything he believes will make him look bad. No way would he walk out or threaten to quit.”

  “Oh.” She hugged a fat manilla folder to her chest. “So I may have lost a perfectly good mechanic for nothing.”

  “I’ll apologize to him.” He smiled sweetly. “That is, if you want a dope-smoking freak on staff.”

  “You will apologize.” It relieved her to have eliminated one person off the list of suspects. She made a mental note to talk to Juan about Craig’s alleged marijuana smoking. She had a zero-tolerance policy regarding illegal drug usage. “So, O Great and Wise Daniel, what do your psychic powers tell you? Which one of them is Pinky?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Not the answer she wanted. “What about Devon?”

  His eyebrows lifted in a facial shrug. “He’s definitely got some problems, but the vibes felt wrong. He seemed blanked out. Not listening. Pinky would be paying more attention.”

  “I never see him hanging around inside the lodge. He doesn’t eat with the other employees, or attend any of the activities. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in the east wing. Somebody would notice if they saw him sticking notes in my box.”

  “Devon makes a good suspect.” He snorted. “But that Brian’s a little weasel.”

  She pressed the back of a hand to her forehead. “No,” she groaned. “You’ve met Chef. He’s like a third-world dictator. Finding people willing to put up with his tantrums is next to impossible.”

  “Pinky would put up with a dictator in order to stay close to you. Has Brian ever approached you? Done or said anything that made you uncomfortable?”

  “Never.”

  “Have any of them volunteered for extra duty? Offered to help you with a special project? Tried to be friends?”

  “No.” Realizing she sounded as if she operated out of an ivory tower, she made a sheepish face. “I don’t encourage apple polishers. Except for Devon they all seem so normal. Even Craig.”

  “Did you notice, Jason never said a word. Think he has something to hide?”

  “At the moment everybody seems to be hiding something. But Jason?” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s so cute. I bet he has dozens of girlfriends. He doesn’t need to stalk met.”

  Daniel sat on the edge of the table and folded his arms. He cocked his head. His slight smile bugged her.

  “What?”

  “He’s cute?”

  “He’s a very attractive boy. What’s the matter, you don’t like the competition?”

  “Ha! This from a lady who hates being judged on her appearance. Kind of shallow, don’t you think?”

  She tapped her fingers against the folder. “I do not judge people by their appearance. And you’re one to talk about being shallow. You’ve been judging me ever since we met.”

  “Au contraire, my charming Ms. Duke. Granted, I happen to think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Stop it.” Whether she was speaking to him or warning herself not to respond she wasn’t sure.

  “And on a biological level, the attraction is powerful. But judge your character?” He shook his head. His eyes danced with coppery lights. “Not even close. Do you want to know what I think about your character?”

  “No.”

  “Liar. You’re dying to know.”

  “I am not And I warn you, if you persist, then you’re going to find out exactly what I think about your character.”

  His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I know what you think about me.” He tapped h
imself on the nose. “What’s the equivalent of a male bimbo? A him-bo?”

  While it wasn’t what she thought of him, it was what she wanted to think. She wanted to dismiss him as just a pretty face with nothing beneath the surface. She wanted to deny her attraction to him. Her own superficiality stung like a barb.

  “I don’t get women...if they don’t think they’re pretty, they wish they were pretty. If they are pretty, they want to be prettier. If they know they’re pretty, they run around scared that no one takes them seriously because they’re too pretty. Why not accept your looks and enjoy it? So what if the dummies don’t take you seriously? What about all the people who do?”

  “Our society objectifies women. TV, movies, magazines. Women only have worth when they fit societal standards of attractiveness.”

  “Bull.”

  “I’ve been subject to that kind of objectification all my life.”

  “Now you’re a victim of society?”

  His question made her feel like an idiot. She despised whiners who blamed everyone else—who blamed society—for their bad behavior. Seething with frustration, she squeezed “No” through her teeth.

  “Your problem isn’t the way you look. Your problem is attitude. And that chip you’re lugging around on your shoulder makes me itch to knock it off.”

  “I don’t need you analyzing me. And I am in no way challenging you. I hired you to solve a specific problem. I will thank you very much to stick to that problem and leave me alone.”

  “I thought you liked to argue.”

  “Not when my head is about to explode!” She turned abruptly, tripped over a chair leg and dropped the folder. Papers scattered. Eyes closed, head down, she stood with her arms locked at her sides and her fists clenched. Worse than sounding like an idiot, she acted like one.