STOLEN HEARTS

by Michelle Martin

  "You should relax more, Luke," Jane Cushman said soothingly. "You'll break into hives."

  Luke crossed one long leg over the other and glared at her. "I am going to charge you double for this little goose chase. Make that triple. How many impostors have traipsed through here in the last twenty years?"

  "Thirty-two," Jane calmly replied, refilling her cup from a delicate porcelain teapot. "I do not see the harm in interviewing one more."

  "You don't see…! What about my schedule? What about my sanity? You're a masochist, that's what you are. And a sadist. You think nothing of breaking your heart once again or of ruining my entire day!"

  "I have no real hope about this one, Luke, merely curiosity," Jane replied, taking a sip of tea. "The approach these people have used is unique and I am interested to see how they carry it off. Aren't you even the least bit intrigued by Dr. Weinstein and his protégée?"

  "No, just disgusted," Luke retorted. "All you're going to get is another bleached blonde throwing herself into your arms and crying 'Grandmother!' and sobbing how she recognizes this vase and that painting. I'd think you'd have had enough of such bad melodrama by now."

  "A little variety in my days—however badly enacted—is always welcome," Jane replied with an amused smile. "I'm not at all concerned. After all, I have you to look after me … at triple your normal hourly rate. You have your people checking into Dr. Weinstein's credentials?"

  "With a fine-tooth comb," Luke pronounced with grim satisfaction. "I'll have him arrested for fraud by the end of the week … along with his Elizabeth."

  Jane sighed. "You've become such a cynical young man. Do try for once, Luke, to keep an open mind. What if Dr. Weinstein really has stumbled upon my granddaughter?"

  "Then I will stand nude outside your bedroom window and serenade you with a superior rendition of 'La Cucaracha.'"

  Jane's laughter was interrupted by her estimable butler, Hodgkins, who gravely entered the sitting room to announce the appearance of Dr. Weinstein and Company.

  "Marvelous! The bad melodrama is about to begin," Jane said, standing up. She glanced down at her attorney. "For shame, Luke Mansfield! Where are your manners? Rise and greet our guests with all the pomp and circumstance that is their due."

  With a weary sigh, Luke stood up. Jane Cushman might be the shrewdest thing on two feet, but she was only human and she had occasional lapses of common sense. This was a prime example. She was wasting his extremely valuable time this morning and Luke bitterly resented it. Elizabeth was dead. Everyone had accepted that long ago, even Eugenie. But Jane had not. Well, Luke thought with another sigh, at seventy-four she was allowed to have a few eccentricities. He just wished they didn't have to impinge on his workday.

  "Dr. Weinstein and Miss Alcott," Hodgkins intoned before withdrawing.

  A massive man strode into the small, feminine sitting room, almost engulfing it. He had a leonine mane of salt-and-pepper hair of which he was undoubtedly vain. He was dressed in a conservative gray business suit, a red carnation in his boutonniere, tortoiseshell glasses on his face, a gold wedding band his only jewelry. Quiet, sophisticated power and affluence was the impression created. Deliberately created, in Luke's opinion. It was just the sort of effect a good con would choose.

  The woman who had made a wreck of Luke's schedule then followed the good doctor into the room.

  Luke forgot to breathe.

  She was lovely. Riotous blond curls, pulled back into a ponytail, were springing gleefully around her forehead and temples. Her eyes were a blue so deep they were nearly violet. Her lips were full and tempting.

  She was small and delicate, her hips and breasts gently flaring her emerald-green silk jumpsuit. She held herself with calm and assurance, her blue eyes widening slightly when they met his gaze, her expression unreadable.

  Jane moved forward to greet the newest players in a very old game, giving Luke a chance to jump-start his respiratory system.

  "Dr. Weinstein, how good of you to come," Jane said, shaking the massive hand of the alleged psychiatrist who towered over her.

  "It is good of you to see me, Mrs. Cushman," Dr. Weinstein replied in a deep basso voice. "This is the young woman I mentioned to you: Tess Alcott. Tess, this is Mrs. Cushman, your grandmother."

  "That has yet to be proved to my satisfaction, Dr. Weinstein," Jane said sharply in the voice she used to quell obstreperous collectors. Then she turned to the young woman with a smile. "My dear, I am very glad to meet you."

  "I don't know why," Tess Alcott said, her voice frank and amused. "You don't really believe this lost-granddaughter routine, do you?"

  Luke, Jane, and Dr. Weinstein stared at her.

  "Look," Tess continued, "you seem like a very nice lady, Mrs. Cushman. You shouldn't be encouraging some shrink who dabbles in hypnosis and some woman who doesn't even know her own name. People will begin to say rude and embarrassing things about you."

  "Oh, you mustn't worry about me. I've got very tough skin," Jane replied, her pale blue eyes shuttered. "And I tend to give better than I get."

  "I'll just bet you do," Tess said, an appreciative smile tugging at her full mouth. Then she shrugged. "It's your call. I'm game if you are."

  "I believe," Dr. Weinstein said stiffly, "that I may have mentioned to you during our phone call yesterday, Mrs. Cushman, that Miss Alcott is in denial about the truth of her identity. This is often the case when dealing with traumatic amnesia."

  "I see," Jane said and then called Luke to her side and introduced him.

  Having brought himself back into some semblance of order, Luke met Weinstein's gray eyes, which oozed benign disinterest, and kept his hands behind his back, avoiding the large hand extended to him. Luke never touched slime when he could avoid it. Then he turned to Tess, meeting her direct gaze with one of his own.

  It was a mistake.

  His brain short-circuited.

  Jane led them to the small tea table, she and Tess sitting opposite each other, the men on either side. Luke caught a faint, tantalizing scent that was pure Tess Alcott.

  Get a grip, Mansfield, he ordered himself.

  He spent the next minute insulting himself. He was a lawyer, dammit, one of the best around, and he would by God start acting like one! If Tess Alcott thought she could win him over with her big blue eyes and sexy hair, she was in for a shock.

  Hodgkins brought in a fresh pot of tea, filled their cups, and gravely withdrew. Jane ignored her teacup to lean back in her chair, critically studying Tess, who cheerfully returned the scrutiny.

  "In the letter I received last week," she said coolly, "Dr. Weinstein informed me that you have led a rather adventurous life, Miss Alcott."

  Tess grinned.

  Luke groaned inwardly. Dimples. She had dimples.

  "Well, that's one way of describing my disreputable past," Tess said wryly. "I was a thief, Mrs. Cushman. The best around. I may be on the straight and narrow now, but I still take pride in that earlier career."

  "How very forthright, Ms. Alcott," Luke sneered. "What, may I ask, do you consider the highlight of your career? Forcing insurance companies to shell out millions of dollars to recompense the people you stole from? Wasting the valuable time of our police forces? Having Jane invite you into this house?"

  "Actually," Tess said after a sip of tea, the tip of her tongue catching a drop on her full upper lip, "the best job I ever pulled off was conning a university education out of Oxford. The paperwork and footwork were horrendous, but the free education was worth it."

  "Fascinating," Jane said and, to Luke's disgust, she meant it. "What was your major?"

  "Art history. Impractical, I know, but I figured I already had a career, so why not enjoy myself at school?"

  "About your so-called career," Luke grimly broke in, "have you ever tried to scam an inheritance from a wealthy family?"

  "Luke!" Jane said disapprovingly.

  "No, no I never tried that one," Tess replied, her blue gaze calmly meeting his. "I always figu
red the lost-heir dodge was just too risky, too many unknown factors. No, jewel and art theft were the mainstays of my career. Stealing beautiful things provides the greatest satisfaction, you see. Anything else just isn't worth the effort."

  "Very sensible," Jane said. "And what made you reform such a successful career?"

  "A sudden, blazing enlightenment," Tess said dryly. "I was twenty-one years old and I had half the police forces of Europe and all of Interpol on my tail. It came to me that crime simply wasn't worth it anymore. So, I turned myself in to the World Enforcement Bureau."

  "How very commendable," Jane said.

  "No, just practical. It's no fun having to look over your shoulder all the time. Besides, I had enough money socked away to keep me in Godiva chocolates for life."

  A dry, appreciative laugh escaped Jane. Luke glared at her. She was not supposed to be enjoying herself! She was supposed to be having her heart broken by yet another impostor. Women, Luke thought with disgust.

  "And in what prison did you pay your immodest debt to society?" he demanded, skewering Tess with the gaze prosecuting attorneys had learned to dread.

  "No prison, I worked a deal with WEB," Tess replied, leaning back in her chair, unperturbed. "They'd been after me for years, but they could never come up with any hard evidence against me. Not that they didn't try. I was just too good for them and they knew it. So, they agreed to have me work for them gratis for three years and made me return whatever ill-gotten goods I still had on hand. There was this one emerald ring I dearly wish I'd kept. It… Ah, well. In exchange, WEB wiped my record clean. I've been working freelance this last year."

  "As what?" Luke demanded.

  Tess grinned. "You might call me a consultant. WEB is actually very fond of me now that I'm no longer making them look like incompetent fools."

  "For a young woman of only twenty-five, you have led a remarkable life," Jane said, her eyes veiled as she studied Tess. "Tell me, Miss Alcott, what lured you into the criminal milieu?"

  For a brief second, Tess's face hardened with a bitterness that shocked Luke. It was replaced by an amused smile so quickly that he couldn't be sure he had really had that brief glimpse behind the mask.

  "I fell in with wrong crowd," she replied.

  "I believe," Dr. Weinstein interposed, setting down his teacup, "that I mentioned the Carswells to you? They were infamous, prior to their incarceration, for their use of children to execute their crimes."

  Alarm bells began clanging in Luke's head. This was all wrong. Every aspect of Tess's life that she and Weinstein had provided thus far could be checked and double-checked. What kind of a con were they running?

  He caught his breath, Elizabeth. Where was Elizabeth in all of this? He studied Tess with growing admiration. She really was very good at what she did.

  "Tell me, Ms. Alcott," he said mildly, "do you ride?"

  "Sure," she replied. "I've got a great ten-speed at home."

  "I did not mean bicycles, Ms. Alcott, I meant horses."

  Tess gaped at him. "Are you nuts? And get myself killed? Thank you, no. Horses terrify me."

  It was, Luke thought, an intricate maze she had constructed. What was at the heart of it? "Terrify you?" he said. "How odd. Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth, was raised on horseback. Her mother, Eugenie, was a renowned equestrian and horse breeder."

  "Then Eugenie had more guts than sense," Tess retorted.

  It was all Luke could do to hold back a laugh. Damn the woman!

  "I prefer to think my daughter-in-law had an abundant supply of both guts and sense," Jane broke in.

  "You know, I'm puzzled, Jane," Luke said. "I couldn't help but notice that Ms. Alcott has a crescent scar on her right temple. Elizabeth didn't have a scar like that, did she?"

  "No," Jane calmly replied, "she did not."

  "How do you explain this discrepancy, Ms. Alcott?"

  "I got the scar when I was sixteen," Tess replied with equal calm.

  "Might one ask how?"

  Tess glanced at Weinstein and then smiled at Luke. "I said no."

  "To whom?" Jane inquired.

  Again that glance at Weinstein. "To my mentor in crime," Tess replied. "He took it badly."

  Jane paused before taking a sip of tea. "You have no memory of your family, Miss Alcott?"

  "None," Tess replied, crossing her legs. "Well, nothing linear and nothing concrete. My first real memories begin with the Carswells and I must have been four or five when they got me."

  "Then you don't remember this house," Luke demanded, "or your grandmother?"

  Tess's blue eyes met his squarely. "Max, here, says I should, but I don't. And I don't want to. The police are no longer after my hide. I've got a nice, steady, honest life for myself: a lovely home, a good job, and plenty of chocolates. I don't want some unknown family unsettling what I've built. I don't remember Mrs. Cushman or this house and I thank God for it."

  "Now Tess," Dr. Weinstein remonstrated as Luke turned this unusual declaration over in his mind, "you know that is not entirely accurate. You have recalled a few fragments of your early childhood in our hypnosis sessions and they mesh remarkably well with what I have been able to learn about the Cushmans and what we have already seen of this house."

  "They would, of course," Luke murmured and was surprised to see Tess suddenly grin at him. He found himself smiling back. Double damn the woman! What on earth was wrong with him today? "You realize, Ms. Alcott," he said coldly, "that I believe none of this fairy tale you and Doctor Weinstein are spinning?"

  "You'd be a fool if you did, Mr. Mansfield," Tess replied.

  "You will soon find that I am the farthest thing from a fool," Luke retorted. "Let's put those hypnotic memory fragments of yours to the test, shall we? The pictures first, I think, Jane."

  "Very well," Jane replied. She pulled a large manila folder out from under the table and took from it five eight-by-ten color photographs, each of a different, well-groomed pony. "Do you recognize any of these, Miss Alcott?"

  Tess glanced at them and then looked up at Jane. "Those are horses. I told you, I don't like horses."

  "They are ponies," Jane corrected, handing the pictures to Tess, "and Elizabeth adored one of them. Which one?"

  Tess thumbed through the pictures quickly and then tossed them back on the table. "How on earth should I know?" she demanded and then turned to Weinstein. "I told you this was pointless, Max. Come on, let's go."

  She was already out of her chair.

  "Now, now, Miss Alcott," Jane said soothingly, "you scarcely looked at those photographs. Why don't you try again?"

  "Because it's useless," Tess said, rounding on the elderly woman. "I have no memory of horses or ponies except the ones I saw in Westerns on television. You show me a pony that swishes its tail when you say 'Howdy' and that pony I'll remember for you!"

  There was a moment of silence.

  "This one," Jane said calmly, pulling out the photo of a palomino pony with a long mane, "belonged to the Mansfields. Luke trained her to swish her tail when anyone said 'Howdy.' It used to make Elizabeth hiccup with laughter."

  "Oh," Tess said. She sat back down in her chair.

  And again there was silence.

  She seemed, Luke thought, uncomfortable, as if she really didn't want to believe that she might have one of Elizabeth's memories. He began to understand why she had been so successful in her criminal career. The performance was masterful. Performance it had to be. Luke refused to believe that he really could be looking at Elizabeth Cushman.

  "Do you speak any foreign languages, Miss Alcott?" Jane said, breaking into the silence.

  "Six."

  Luke and Jane stared at Tess. "Including French?" Jane asked.

  "Oh, sure," Tess replied, her assurance back in full sway. "French is vital. It's spoken by some of the richest people in the world. I speak any language that will profit me, Mrs. Cushman."

  "French was Elizabeth's second language," Jane said. "My daughter-in-law, Eugenie, was
French, you see."

  "With that name? I should hope so. American kids would have ragged her silly otherwise."

  "This hard-boiled persona is all very amusing, Ms. Alcott," Luke said, "but it occurs to me that a successful jewel and art thief would have to adopt a somewhat softer façade to successfully ply her trade, to appear before the social elite in possession of said jewels and art either as intellectual and sophisticated, or at the least innocent and forthright … somewhat like the character you've adopted today."

  "Absolutely," Tess blithely replied. She seemed to have a remarkably thick skin. "A good thief has to be a good con. I've been everything from a virgin shop clerk to a jaded computer analyst to a European princess." A fond smile touched her lips. "I quite liked having people bow and scrape whenever I went by. It's amazing what you can get people to believe in a few hours or a few days. You see, a successful con is like a blitzkrieg: in and out so fast that no one has a chance to question your credentials."

  "And is the hardened criminal sitting before us today a con?" Jane inquired.

  Tess stared at her a moment and then a grin curled across her full lips, bringing out her dimples in all their glory. "Only a little one," she confessed. "I really am hardened, but I am a bit more sophisticated."

  Jane laughed and reached over to pat her hand. "My dear, I am so glad you came to tea today. I have enjoyed our conversation enormously. You and Dr. Weinstein must stay to lunch if you have no other plans."

  "We would be delighted," the alleged psychiatrist replied.

  It would have shocked Luke if he had said anything else. "Why don't you ring for Hodgkins to bring in those other items?" he said to Jane.

  "Certainly, Luke," Jane replied, her amused glance assuring him she was fully aware of his impatience and growing temper.

  Hodgkins was summoned. He entered the sitting room like a glacier slowly sliding into the ocean. Luke had never seen him with any expression other than that of frozen self-effacement. He placed a full silver tray on the table, collected their tea things on a smaller tray, and stolidly withdrew.