by AJ Matthews
“Get on with it. What’d you call us in for—an overdue parking ticket?” Dane said.
Cap raised a brow and said, “No, but I’ll be looking into that.” Cap shifted his gaze to Shana. Dane held his jealousy muscles in check.
“I got a request for your services.”
That got Shana’s attention. “Do tell.” She dropped her hair and leaned forward, all business now. A rotten shame. But a relief to Dane’s too tense man parts.
“You want us to fix your air conditioning?” Dane said. He didn’t mind disrupting Cap and annoying Shana. But this time she didn’t even bother to glare at him with her Shana the Destroyer look.
“We’ve had a rash of missing jewelry—likely thefts. The first report came from an insurance company, but by the time we got the third report of high-end jewels missing, we figured they were stolen. And all by the same person or team.” Cap paused.
“And?” Dane said.
Shana glared at him. He smiled.
“Someone wants to hire us to get their jewels back?” Shana said.
“Not exactly.”
“Security?”
“Partly. I think they want you to prevent a theft. We think they’re being targeted. When we looked into the matter and found each of the reports of missing, presumed-stolen jewelry had one thing in common—the owners had recently hosted parties.”
“You think someone from a backyard barbeque ran inside and lifted the family jewels?” Dane said.
“These were no backyard barbeques—these were lavish affairs in the most expensive oceanfront neighborhood on the island. Their family jewels were worth millions. The parties’ guest lists overlap substantially and they include anyone who’s anyone on the island—and some from off-island. Wealthy or famous—”
“Or apparently notorious—they’ve got a jewel thief on their list,” Dane said.
“Will you please take this seriously?” Shana said. “We need a case and these people have money to pay us.”
“She’s right—you should charge double your normal rates,” Cap said.
“We don’t have normal rates. We don’t have any rates.”
“That’s the problem,” Shana sighed. “You don’t take the business seriously. We need to try making more money.”
The instant tensing of muscles across his back and the tightening of his chest reminded Dane of a mild tazing—either that or he was having a heart attack. But in truth, the tension was all too familiar—it was his what happens if Shana leaves the island tension. He couldn’t bring himself to figure out the answer. That would only lead to gut wrenching misery. And then he might have a heart attack for real.
“Okay. Fine. We’ll charge them whatever you want, girlie. You can be in charge—”
“Oh no you don’t. You’re not bailing out of doing the work. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
A warmth like he’d just downed a mug of hot cocoa ran through him, easing the previous tension down to a background annoyance—one he could operate with. One he had been operating with. All in the name of pursuing those flashes of warmth. Of pursuing the normal pleasures in life that he’d missed since he was a kid.
“We are. We’re partners.”
She frowned and turned back to Cap. Dane noticed Cap was enjoying their exchange. As usual. He shook his head and then continued giving them the background on the jewel heists.
“That’s the theory—that someone from the parties is a jewel thief, but they have no idea who. These parties are outfitted with security, all the homes have alarms and state-of-the art safes. All the caterers and staff have been vetted and all have been working for at least three summers on the island. The guest lists are large and we’re going through them. It’s possible someone brought a guest who the hosts didn’t know. If an invited guest brought someone, none of the hosts turned them away.”
Dane said, “That’ll teach them to be gracious.”
Shana swatted a hand at him. He caught it and held on. She tugged but he didn’t let go. She stopped tugging and let him hold onto her hand. There was no point in her resisting him. They both knew he’d win. It was like that.
He wondered what it would be like if he didn’t have to struggle with her. Would the magic disappear—or is that when the magic would start?
“The next party is scheduled for tomorrow night. William Gable is the host.”
“Gable? The movie producer?”
“That’s him. He wants to meet with you today. He wants more than his usual security and more than the state and local police can do.” Cap pulled his drawer out and took something from it. “Here’s his card.”
Shana freed her hand from his, reached out and snatched the card from Cap before Dane finished reacting to losing his hold.
“We’ll call him, but I don’t know what we can do for him,” Dane said.
Cap shrugged.
Shana said, “I’ll find something to do for him.”
Her words sent a frisson through him. “You? I thought we were partners.”
She turned and gave him a no-nonsense look. “Then start acting like it.”
Chapter Two
The day was at its hottest by 4 p.m.—or at least Shana hoped it wouldn’t get any hotter. Dane drove—as usual—and they sped by the ocean on the right toward the exclusive neighborhood in West Tisbury where the rash of jewel thefts and parties had taken place. Sweat trickled between her breasts. The windows were open because the Jeep had no air conditioning. It had broken long ago, according to Dane, and he’d never bothered to get it fixed. If she had any money, she’d get it fixed herself. She hadn’t adjusted to the wild weather here. It was too unpredictable compared to home in Sydney. How could she possibly adjust when the roller coaster was always about to take a plunge or turn a corner. Her mind had shifted from weather to Dane and she sighed.
“How about if you let me do the talking?” she said.
“Go for it, girlie.” He didn’t take his eyes off the road. Just as well. She didn’t need one of his unnerving looks right now. She’d dressed up for their meeting with Mr. Gable in her best business suit. Pale gray silk with a pink blouse and tasteful fake pearl choker. Dane had scoffed at her and compared her to a Barbie doll. It was probably the spike heels. But she left them on. She was hot now and regretted not wearing her usual cotton sundress.
They got through the gated drive past a stern-looking guard and pulled to the front door behind a Jaguar in the circular drive.
“That looks a lot like your car,” Shana said after they got out and walked to the door.
“It’s a later model.”
“Where is your Jag? We could probably use it right now—”
“Never mind that. Ring the bell.”
In the next moment Shana found herself stepping into a different world—as if through the looking glass. This place felt more like something out of The Great Gatsby than reality. It wasn’t the opulence, but the throwback style of the place with the black and white marble checkerboard entry foyer, the art deco furnishings and the man who answered the door—an actual butler.
“This is disorienting,” she whispered to Dane as they walked after the man who’d said, “Follow me this way.”
“What’s the matter? A little too retro for you?” Dane smiled and added, “At least there wasn’t a Duisenberg parked out front.”
He’d read her mind. As always. They stepped through heavy double wooden doors into a light, airy parlor of sorts done in the same art deco style with plush rugs and a chandelier. Standing in the middle of the room, facing away from them and looking out the window was Mr. Gable, she presumed. He didn’t turn to greet them until after the butler left. They were in for some drama.
“Mr. Blaise and Ms. George—thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. We do have a bit of an emergency. Very distressing business. Please sit.” He pointed to the seating arrangement opposite the windows, complete with a coffee table holding a pitcher of something cold and several glass
es. She’d bet her left pinky the crystal was Baccarat.
Dane said nothing. Then she remembered she’d promised to do all the talking. She took a breath. She was a professional investigator and this was the twenty-first century on Martha’s Vineyard and they weren’t looking for a Grace-Kelly-type cat burglar.
“No problem, Mr. Gable. It’s our specialty to respond to emergency situations.”
“Of course—you’re famous for it.” Mr. Gable paused and looked them over. She and Dane stood in front of the small sofa. Dane remained silent.
“Famous?” she said. She sat. Dane sat.
“Yes—surely you’re aware—the video?” He paused. “At the Lucky Parrot. I’ve seen the video of your recent takedown of a notorious cartel boss from South America. Amazing.” He looked at Dane. “I hope your arm has healed well?” Mr. Gable sounded like a fan in the presence of a movie star. His eyes glittered and she could picture bursts of stars popping from his head if this were a cartoon.
Dane lifted his arm. He wore a short-sleeved linen shirt and the scar from the knife wound still looked raw. “It’s functional.” Dane looked at her. His face was like a picture etched in stone, void of expression. But she knew him and knew he was expressing impatience by the mere fact that he looked at her instead of their client.
“Mr. Gable, can you tell us specifically what service you would like us to provide?”
“Yes of course—this business. I’m sure you know by now about the rash of jewel thefts at our parties in this area. We love our parties—gala events, actually. It’s the reason we’re here for the summer. Vacationing and gathering with friends and celebrating life and our ... success.”
In her mind, Shana substituted the word excess. But she said, “Of course. And you have a ... gala planned for tomorrow night?”
“Yes. I have security—the usual—motion sensors, alarms, security personnel and even dogs. But since none of this seemed to stop the thefts from some of my best friends, I find I must take further steps. That’s where you come in—after seeing that video—and checking up on your credentials, I think you two will be perfect to go undercover at the gala tomorrow evening—as guests—to catch the thief red-handed, as it were.”
“To catch the thief?” Dane said. His voice was casual, but Shana knew he was mocking Mr. Gable and even if Mr. Gable were star struck, he wasn’t an idiot. She moved her spike-heel-clad foot over her knee and stabbed Dane in the calf. He didn’t move and didn’t make a sound. But she knew he felt it. He smiled.
“Yes, ironic, isn’t it? The reminiscence to a Cary Grant movie did enter my mind. But it’s all too real, I’m afraid. The insurance company—the same one insures everyone in the area—is pressuring us to step up security or stop hosting parties. But I’m not going to stop living my life over a jewel thief.”
“Of course not,” Shana said.
“So you’ll do it then?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure how payment for your services works, but I’ve prepared a check for your retainer.” Gable reached inside his sports jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Dane. Shana smiled and kicked Dane’s leg again. Dane took the envelope and grinned.
“Thank you, Mr. Gable. I’m sure this will be fine, but Shana will send you our contract later. Can we have a look around?”
Mr. Gable popped up to stand and reverted to fan-man as he led them back to the foyer. Shana followed the two men, caught up and said, “We’ll need a copy of your guest list as soon—”
“Of course. I’ll have Frank—our personal assistant—you met him at the door—send that to you along with the blueprint of the estate, schematics for our security system and details on our security personnel. Anything else?”
“Yes—can we meet Mrs. Gable?” Dane said. He didn’t like the way Mr. Gable was looking at Shana at that moment—as if she were a piece of art he might collect. It was a good thing she was wearing the stodgy business suit and not one of her usual sundresses. Or maybe Gable was being polite.
“Yes—she’ll be joining us out at the ballroom terrace.”
They walked through the multi-chandelier-lit space of the ballroom—it took a few minutes to cover the expanse of tile—and Dane thought he’d need to clone himself and Shana three times to cover this room at the party. When they made their way in time with the clicking of Shana’s heels to the furthest terrace doors, which swung wide and overlooked the ocean in a stunning high vista, an equally stunning woman joined them and smiled at Dane without looking at Shana. He smiled back—his polite no no-nnsense smile. Mrs. Gable reminded him of a forties-era movie star with her shiny waves of brown hair framing her face and her cinch-waisted dress falling to mid-calf. She was painfully thin but elegant-looking in a Kathryn Hepburn way.
“You must be the famous—or should I say notorious—Dane Blaise.” She reached out a hand and he took it, giving her delicate hand a shake though he felt like he was supposed to kiss it.
“This is my partner—”
She turned to Shana and said, “Yes, the lovely Shana George—equally famous.” She did the obligatory handshake. Dane recognized the icy smile Shana wore and silently willed his girl to keep herself in check. Not that he cared about the assignment, but he knew Shana would somehow blame him if they lost the gig.
“I have the guest list for you, and the guest lists from the last three parties which were all robbed. We’re all concerned about this jewel thief. What is the likelihood that he might turn violent?”
“Unlikely,” Shana said.
“What makes you think the thief is a man?” Dane said.
Mrs. Gable raised her brow and Mr. Gable laughed. “Touché.”
They took a tour of the perimeter, then pointed out the balcony and French doors to their bedroom where the safe was kept, inside, in a closet. Very predictable.
“You should consider moving the safe to your kitchen—no one ever looks there,” Dane said.
“Hmm... Yes, I see your point. I’ll consider it,” Mr. Gable said. It was obvious he’d do no such thing. Dane got the idea the man enjoyed being a cliché.
Shana had her mobile phone out in camera mode and was busy taking pictures.
“Where are the motion sensors tripped?” she asked.
“I have no idea—it’s all in the plans we’ll provide.” Gable watched Shana and followed along with her.
“Would you like a cold drink, Mr. Blaise—to take the edge off the heat?”
He did want one—desperately. “No thank you. I think we’re about finished here. We have some background work to do.”
Shana slipped her phone back into her purse and joined him. She was a good girl. She knew a hint when she heard one. Plus she looked hotter than he did—sweatier too. And her hair. Others might have called it unruly, but Dane thought it looked sexy as hell—like she’d just got out of bed after making wild love. The perspiration-touched tendrils framing her face gave her an irresistible—
“Ms. George—may I call you Shana? Please have a cold drink before you go—”
“We can’t stay,” Dane said and stepped to her side. He resisted throwing an arm around her because then he’d have dragged her out of there and—
“What will you do next?” Mrs. Gable asked.
“We’ll study the security plans and—” Shana began.
“For one thing we’ll need to go shopping. The attire for your soirée is formal, I take it?” Dane said, his expression back to his polite, meaningless smile.
“Yes—oh most definitely. May I suggest a dress shop—”
“Please be sure to include the cost in your expenses,” Mr. Gable said. His smile for Shana looked far from meaningless. Dane decided they ought to get out of there before Mr. Gable suggested she buy jewelry for herself too—at his expense—like a gift from a potential lover.
Mrs. Gable lead them back out to the checkerboard foyer. Dane paid a lot of attention to the surroundings, noting the dramatic stairs. No way their thief had taken
those to the second floor—it would have been like being on stage. The butler showed them the door and they got in the Jeep.
“This car is like a furnace,” Shana said.
“I don’t mind. I like seeing you sweat.”
She punched his arm. “I can’t go dress shopping until I take a shower.”
“No time. We’re on a tight schedule. I’m going to need to come back here in the morning and install cameras.”
“They already have security cameras—I saw them—”
“On the outside. I’m talking about inside.”
“Fine. Take me to the dress shop.”
As they pulled up along the curb at the store, Shana’s phone rang.
“It’s probably Mr. Gable telling you don’t forget to buy some jewels—at his expense, of course.”
Shana scowled at him and looked at the phone before answering it.
“It’s my brother.” She pressed it on and then pressed it to her ear.
Dane got out of the Jeep partly to give Shana privacy for her call, but mostly because it was so stiflingly hot in the Jeep. He was human. He went to the dress shop door—the boutique where they’d shopped before—and saw the clerk, Emma, inside.. He wanted to go in the air-conditioned shop, but he waited for Shana. He was a sap.
As she got out of the car she tossed the phone back into her bag and frowned at him. But this wasn’t her usual frown of general disapproval or annoyance, it was worry.
“What did he want?”
“Mum wants to come for a visit—here—at the end of the summer.”
“Cool. Problem?”
“Yes. They already booked the flight and I’ll have to find somewhere for them to stay.”
At least that meant Shana was staying until September.
“What’s the problem?”
“I’m not sure where they got the money for the flight—he gave me some story about winning a sweepstakes. Sounded fishy.”
It was a fishy story. Dane knew this because he was the one in charge of the sweepstakes and her mother had been the only entrant.
“Don’t look a gift horse—”
