by Eve Gaddy
“No. It’s difficult to hear anything from the fields. And I don’t make a habit of peering out the windows late at night.”
“Is the nanny here? I’d like to talk to her, as well.”
“I’ll send her down. She went out but returned around ten. You might ask Cassandra.” Esme flicked a reproving glance at her. “No doubt she was out until all hours, gambling and such. Though, of course, since she saw fit to move out, I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
Well, she had just said it, hadn’t she? Casey thought irritably.
Remy turned to her and lifted an eyebrow. “Casey? Do you have anything to add?”
Casey gritted her teeth. “I was out late. I went to the opening of the White Gold casino. Nick brought me back, but neither of us heard or saw anything unusual. I’d have told you if I had.”
“She’s talking about that gambler,” Esme interjected. “Nick Devlin, the one my nephew has decided to install in the garçonnière.”
“Nick’s an old friend of Jackson’s,” Casey explained. “He’s managing the White Gold until the new owner takes over. I’m sure you can find him there, but I doubt he heard anything, either. He would have said something.”
Esme sniffed but didn’t comment.
“All the same,” Remy said, “it won’t hurt to talk to him. I’d like to speak to whoever was on the grounds last night.” He turned to Esme and gave her his most charming smile. “Could I ask you to get the nanny?”
After she left, Remy sent a speculative look at Casey. “Might just be my nasty, suspicious nature, but I sense a little tension between you and your auntie.”
Casey crossed her legs and swung one foot. “You’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to. We don’t see eye to eye about…certain things.”
“And would one of those certain things happen to be this gambler? Nick Devlin, I think your auntie said his name was.”
Frowning, she started to deny it, then shrugged. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’ve known you a long time, chère,” he reminded her. “Oui.”
“Why so interested, Remy? None of this has anything to do with the missing harvester.”
“A good detective likes to get the full picture,” he said virtuously.
“Ditto a nosy detective.”
“Ah, now you’ve hurt my feelings.” He put a hand over his heart.
“Impossible. You don’t have any.”
Remy laughed, as Esme returned with Tanya. “Cassandra, I’d like to speak to you,” she said in her most commanding voice.
“I was about to go to Duke’s office and contact the insurance company,” Casey said, rising. “I don’t have time right now, Aunt Esme.”
“I suggest you make time,” her aunt said, and turned on her heel.
“Good luck,” Remy murmured. “From the looks of Miss Esme, you’re going to need it. I’ll be in touch about the case,” he added, and picked up his notebook again.
Casey wasn’t normally a woman who shied from confrontation. She only wished she weren’t having this one when she was so short on sleep and patience.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ESME WAS WAITING FOR HER in Duke’s office. That alone indicated she was upset, since Esme didn’t ordinarily venture in there. She considered it Duke’s domain, and the rest of the house, hers.
Angelique had always relied heavily on Esme in the running of the house, but to be fair, Esme had never challenged Angelique after she’d put her foot down. Which was the only reason Esme tolerated having Betty around. As a shirttail relation of Angelique’s, Betty would stay until Angelique fired her, which she never would.
But for now it was just Casey and her aunt. And Casey was in no mood to listen to Esme’s numerous complaints. She had more important things on her mind.
Duke’s office had been one of Casey’s favorite rooms from childhood. It was tucked away at the back of the house on the ground floor, overlooking the side yard. The wallpaper was a dark, masculine brocade. Paintings hung from the high ceilings on wires that were screwed into the wide cornice encircling the room. Two green leather armchairs faced the desk, and a very uncomfortable green leather couch studded with brass buttons sat against one wall. A Waterford crystal decanter full of whiskey and four matching glasses graced a side table.
Duke’s desk, an antique cherry wood with hidden drawers, dominated the room. Matching file cabinets occupied the wall behind it. Story was, the desk had belonged to John “Duke” Wayne once upon a time, and so naturally, Duke Fontaine had to have it. Casey had many memories of the Duke, seated in the enormous leather desk chair, puffing on his pipe from time to time, and holding court over a variety of businessmen. It was a powerful room, furnished with a powerful man in mind.
Today, however, Casey held the power. She walked in, bypassed her aunt on the couch—Toodles lying across her feet—and sat in her father’s chair. Lacing her fingers together and placing her hands on the desk blotter, Casey said, “I have several calls to make, Aunt Esme, so let’s make this quick.”
“I certainly hope one of those calls is to your brother. Or have you called him already? When is he coming home?”
Casey silently counted to ten. “I haven’t called Jackson yet. I’m planning to as soon as I have something more definite to tell him.”
Esme looked astonished. “But we need him here. Surely you don’t expect to handle this situation yourself. With Duke gone—”
“With Duke and Jackson gone, I’m in charge. Of everything,” she added. “There’s no reason to force Jackson to come home early from his meeting. Not when I’m perfectly capable of taking care of things.”
“You’ll do as you please, I’m sure, just as you always do. Just as you’re doing with that man Jackson dragged home. You don’t care how disgraceful your behavior is—”
“Aunt Esme,” Casey interrupted wearily, “can we postpone this discussion of my shortcomings until later? Is there anything you really need to talk to me about? Or did you only drag me in here to complain?”
Esme rose, dumping Toodles off her feet unceremoniously. The little dog barked and wagged his tail, then ran to the door, clearly wondering what was keeping his mistress. “Yes, there is. I want to know more about this Adam Ross. What do you know about him? Anything that didn’t come from Nick Devlin?”
Casey pulled the rein on her temper a little tighter. It wasn’t unreasonable for Esme to question Adam’s credentials, but her timing sucked. “I thought you liked Adam.”
“Whether I like him or not has no bearing on the matter,” Esme said primly.
Casey sighed. “I checked him out fully before I hired him. He has several excellent references, including one from the Marchands,” she added, naming a family Esme had known for decades. “If you’re worried, call Christina Marchand. I’m sure she’d love to gossip with you about any number of things, including Adam Ross. If that’s all, I really have to call the insurance company now.”
Esme stalked out, heels ringing on the wooden floor, Toodles yapping ecstatically behind her. Casey put her head in her hands. She hated being on the outs with Esme. She loved her aunt, even if they never agreed on anything. But Casey didn’t have the time or desire to tiptoe around the woman right now.
She got up and went to the file cabinet, where she flipped through folders until she found the one labeled “Insurance.”
By the time she ended the call with the insurance company a nagging headache had developed into a raging migraine. The claims agent had been kind and sympathetic, and had promised help as soon as was humanly possible, but help still wouldn’t be coming any too soon. Claims took a lot of time to process, and that was that.
While she was putting the file back, she ran across the old plans for the fountain Angelique had had built, shortly after she and Duke were married. It was the custom for every generation of Fontaines to add a new fountain, which was why so many would be found on the estate. Casey and Jackson hadn’t gotten around to planning their fountain yet. Casey put t
he plans away with a sigh. Building a new fountain had just slid even farther down the list of things to do.
Casey left a voice mail in Jackson’s hotel room asking him to call her as soon as he got the message. Then she headed out to see Bill Harmon. The banker had known her since she was a child. He wouldn’t mind her barging into his house on a Saturday, as long as it was important.
“SORRY TO BOTHER YOU on a weekend,” Casey told Bill Harmon as she preceded him into his study. “But I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
“No, no, quite all right,” the banker said, motioning for her to sit as he seated himself behind his big, mahogany desk. He was in his late fifties with green eyes, gray hair and a permanent tan from golfing. “How are the travelers? Have you heard from them lately?”
“No. I think my mother put her foot down. She knows that given half a chance, Duke would spend all his time on the phone discussing business.”
Harmon laughed. “True, true. So tell me, Casey, what can I do for you?”
“I need a loan. Just a temporary one,” she added hastily when he frowned.
“What’s the problem? The fire?”
“No, we’ve been able to cover those expenses until the insurance comes through, but now we’ve had another disaster. And this one is even worse. Someone stole the cane harvester.”
“Stole your harvester?” he repeated. “That machine is huge. How is that possible?”
Casey shook her head. “I don’t know. It disappeared sometime last night. And since we haven’t seen any money from the fire, I don’t expect the new claim will come through soon.” Her fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. “That’s the problem— I’ve got to get another harvester now. The John Deere Company holds the first loan, and they won’t give us another. Not until things are sorted out. As it is, it’s going to take a few days before another machine is available. If we go too long without one, we run the risk of losing the entire harvest. Or most of it, anyway.”
Harmon rubbed his jaw, frowning. “You can’t borrow one?”
“No. I’ve tried.” He looked less than thrilled, she thought, wondering why it was such a big deal. “I’ll pay back the loan as soon as the insurance money comes in, of course.”
“Refresh my memory. What does a harvester run nowadays?”
“About $250,000. I’d like to finance this one through the bank, since the dealer is already unhappy about the stolen one.” He was still frowning, saying nothing. “Bill, I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t desperate.” God, she hated to beg, but she had no choice. Why was he being so difficult? “You know the Fontaines are good for it. Unless…” She hesitated, then asked, “Is there a problem I need to be aware of?”
Bill hemmed and hawed, but he didn’t answer her question. “Casey, there’s really nothing I can do from home. I can look into it Monday morning and give you a call.”
Frustrated, Casey stood. “Fine. I’ll talk to you Monday, then. Sorry to bother you.” In the meantime, she needed to call Suttler’s, the local John Deere store, and have them locate a new harvester as soon as possible. She didn’t think there would be a problem, but then, she hadn’t thought there would be a problem with the bank, either.
She listened with half an ear as Bill went with her to the door, anxious to call Jackson to see if he had any clue what was going on. Obviously, he hadn’t gotten the message yet or he would have phoned her. She winced, thinking it would be a double whammy for her brother, telling him about the missing harvester as well as something odd going on with the bank.
Too impatient to wait, she dialed Aunt Esme and got Jackson’s number at the hotel the minute she got in the car. By some minor miracle, she caught him in his room.
“I was just about to call you,” he said.
“Thank God you’re there,” she said without preamble.
“What’s wrong? It’s not Megan, is it? I talked to her last night and she sounded all right.”
“Megan’s fine. The harvester’s been stolen.” She gave him a brief rundown of what had happened, including the insurance company dragging their feet and the fact that Remy thought it unlikely they’d get the machine back. “So I went to Bill Harmon, thinking I could get an interim loan for a new one.”
“Good thinking. Listen, Casey, I can check the flights and possibly be back tonight.”
“No. Absolutely not. I can handle this, Jackson.”
“I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to deal with the problem alone.”
“You’ll be home in a few days, anyway. Don’t reschedule. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s Bill Harmon. He acted very strange when I asked him for the loan.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he put me off until Monday and acted like he didn’t want to do it. Are we having financial problems I don’t know about?” That would be the icing on the cake. And knowing Duke, her brother probably wasn’t much better informed than she was.
“Of course not.” Jackson sounded impatient. “At least, I don’t think so. But you know how close-mouthed Duke is. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming about business before he left town. Maybe he’s taken out a loan we don’t know about. Did Bill say anything specific, or was it just a feeling you got?”
“More of a feeling, I guess.” But it sure had been a strong one. “Jackson, I’m worried. I’m afraid the insurance company is going to take forever to reimburse us. If the bank won’t come through…” Her voice trailed off.
Jackson was silent, too, probably thinking about how it would affect them if they couldn’t get a harvester.
As she pulled into the gravel drive in front of her house, she renewed her determination. She did not intend to lose this crop. No matter what she had to do, she’d get another harvester.
“Have you told Duke?” Jackson finally said.
“No. He can’t do anything from three thousand miles away. Why bother him and Maman?” Besides, she wasn’t about to admit to her father that she couldn’t handle the business. “And if we tell him about the harvester, we’re going to have to tell him about the fire, too.”
“Good point.” He sighed again, and Casey pictured him rubbing the bridge of his nose, the way he did when he was worried. “I’m due back next Thursday. I want you to promise to let me know if you need me there earlier. And call me Monday once you hear from Bill. They’re not the only bank. We can approach someone else if necessary.”
“True,” Casey said, brightening a bit. “I hadn’t considered that, since we always deal with Harmon. Look, I’m at the cottage now and I want to call Suttler’s and see if they have a cane harvester readily available.”
“Good luck with that,” Jackson said wryly. “You know they’re hard to come by, especially now.”
“I know. But maybe we’ll get lucky for a change. I’ll be in touch.”
As she hung up, her natural optimism began to reassert itself. Despite whatever odd things were going on with Harmon, surely he’d give them the loan. And once she was able to bring in the harvest, their lives would get back to normal.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NICK DIDN’T MAKE IT to Casey’s place until after midnight. Since it was so late, he considered not going in, but when he saw her lights on, he couldn’t resist.
The public opening of the casino had taken a lot of his attention, but not so much that he didn’t think about Casey. A lot. More than he normally thought about a woman.
It was a strange experience for him to be so wrapped up in a woman. He wasn’t sure he liked it. But he didn’t seem to have a choice. At the casino a show-stopper blonde had made it clear she was interested in taking him home with her. He’d turned her down, which wasn’t unusual since he was involved with someone. But his total lack of interest in the woman had been very far from the norm. He wanted to see Casey, period.
“You look tired,” he said after he kissed her hello. His fault, since he’d kept her up most of the night making love. But he didn’t regret that and d
idn’t believe she did, either.
She led him to the couch, shooting him a wry grin over her shoulder. “I am tired. But I’m more worried than anything else.”
“Can I do something to help?”
She shook her head. “Not unless you want to loan me $250,000 for a new cane harvester. I’m afraid the bank’s going to turn us down.”
He didn’t think she’d been serious, but he offered, anyway. “Okay. When do you need it?”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? I was kidding. Besides, you can’t offer to loan me that kind of money. You hardly know me.”
Nick cupped her chin and smiled at her, then dropped a kiss on her lips. “I know you. You’d never renege on a loan. And it’s just for a few weeks, isn’t it?”
She covered his hand with hers, her eyes jade green with emotion. “Nick, I can’t take the money from you. It’s sweet of you to offer, but I can’t. Jackson would have a stroke, too.”
“It’s an offer to help out a friend. Why can’t you accept it?”
She didn’t answer, just frowned at him, so he added, “I’ll have a contract drawn up. We can make it as official as you want.”
“It won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “You’re a little more than a friend. It wouldn’t be right.” She settled back into the couch. “I’m sure I’m overreacting, anyway. The banker’s supposed to call me Monday and let me know.”
“Will you tell me if he says no?”
She nodded. “I’ll be so mad I won’t be able to keep my mouth shut, I’m sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m taking your money.”
He smiled. They’d see about that. He put his arm around her and pulled her close against his side. Her hand came up to rest over his heart.
“Did Remy get a chance to talk to you? About last night?” she asked.
It took him a moment to remember who she was talking about. “The detective? Yeah, he did. I don’t think I was much help, since I didn’t see or hear a thing.” He’d been far too busy with Casey. “But he does agree with me that you need to be careful.”
