A Box Full of Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  Mitch’s companion followed his gaze and grunted. “Julia’s friend.”

  An attractive woman crossed the room to join them. By the look of her Mitch knew she had to be Julia’s mother. “Ethel,” she said, “I don’t believe I’ve met your guest.”

  “I found him wandering the grounds. Lost, I suppose. I invited him to join me as my escort.” There was a wicked twinkle in her eye. “You don’t mind do you, Audrey?”

  “Of course not.” She extended her hand as her eyebrows arched in question, “Mr. …”

  “Lawson. Mitchell Lawson.” He shook the extended hand and noted that she didn’t bat an eye at Ethel’s explanation of him or at his attire.

  Audrey was about to say something more when a burst of laughter came from the men conversing with Doug. At the same time a tall blond man, impeccably dressed in an expensive and well tailored tuxedo, came up behind Julia and swung her around a couple of times to the music of a three piece orchestra playing in the background. The two women Julia had been chatting with tittered with laughter.

  “Well done, Audrey. Well done.” Ethel Hampton took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She chuckled. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Ethel.”

  “Vinnie Richlieu, of all people. That would light a fire under anyone.” Ethel took a sip of her champagne. “Although I don’t remember him looking anything like that.”

  “Really, Ethel.”

  Mitch watched Julia dancing with Vinnie until the musicians came to the end of the piece. He forced his gaze away from the couple and let it drift over the other guests. He became aware of a squat but handsome man with white wings streaking through his dark hair staring intently at Julia.

  “Who’s that?” He asked with a nod in the man’s direction.

  “That’s Rocco Sullivan,” Audrey said. “He’s an art dealer here in Savannah.”

  Aunt Ethel sniffed. “Art dealer, huh. If you take a wide view of what constitutes art.”

  “Oh?” Mitch realized Rocco Sullivan hadn’t taken his eyes off Julia.

  “Well, let’s just say that if you purchased anything from him, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have it appraised.”

  “Don’t stir that pot, Ethel. It’s the kind of thing that can happen to any dealer. Pei-Shen Qian fooled thousands of people with his forgeries.”

  “Well, he didn’t fool Julia.”

  At that moment a late middle-aged man joined Mitch and the two women. He extended his hand. “Woodrow Hampton.” Unlike the women, his gaze did travel briefly over Mitch’s long frame taking in his sports coat, lack of a tie, and boots.

  Mitch shook hands. “Mitch Lawson, U. S. Deputy Marshal.”

  “Indeed,” Woodrow said. All eyes in his little group were now on Mitch.

  “I’ve been working with Julia. On a case. Missing art.”

  The wicked gleam was back in Ethel’s eyes. “Really good show, Audrey.”

  This time Mitch thought he detected the shadow of a smile pass fleetingly across Audrey Hampton’s lips. He turned his attention back to Julia and Vinnie Richlieu. This had to be the chosen one, Mitch thought. The socially acceptable, moneyed, and well-connected candidate for Julia’s future husband. The family “thing” was really an occasion to show up the competition as lacking in every respect by comparison, to gently nudge her in the right direction.

  Fine by him. He was here to do a job. Doug Heinz was about to disappear and once he did, Mitch was pretty sure neither of them would see Julia again. He watched Julia laughing at whatever Vinnie Richlieu had said and turned to scour the room for Doug. Time to put the belle of Savannah out of his mind and get on with the job.

  Mitch nodded at the small group of Hamptons and said, “Excuse me.”

  He started across the room to where Doug was holding court. Suddenly a slender arm linked with his and he looked down into Julia’s smiling face.

  “Deputy Lawson, I’m glad you could join us.”

  “Are you, now.” The corner of his mouth lifted with pleasure.

  “So who are you following tonight? Me or Doug?”

  “Tonight,” Mitch allowed his gaze to travel from her upswept hair to the toe of the elegant little shoe peaking from beneath the hem of her dress, “you have my full attention.”

  He liked the way she blushed and the enticing sparkle in her eyes.

  She drew closer to his side and lowered her voice. “Come meet Chappie. He’s very entertaining and he loves an audience. We might learn something useful.”

  “Uh huh,” he said but he simply stood there staring down at her.

  Julia’s blush deepened and she tugged at his arm. “Come on.”

  The group around Doug consisted of three other men. Mitch had Chappie pegged even before the formal introductions. Also in the group was a man named Trip Youngblood. The name caught Mitch’s attention.

  “Mr. Youngblood.” They shook hands. “That’s a familiar name.”

  “Yes. I’m afraid there are more of us in the county than I can keep up with.” He had that old money look and manners: nothing ostentatious, soft spoken, his white mane of hair just a touch long on the collar of his shirt.

  Chappie chimed in. “Trip is being much too modest, Deputy Lawson.” His gaze traveled up and down Mitch with open appreciation. “The Youngbloods have been in Savannah since Oglethorpe. They know where all the bodies are buried, so to speak.”

  “I’m not looking for bodies tonight, Mr. Chapman.” Mitch caught Doug’s eye. “Maybe another day.”

  Doug straightened his bowtie and turned his attention to Julia. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

  Julia performed a mock curtsey. “And you don’t look half bad yourself.”

  “Indeed.” Trip Youngblood said. “Mr. Heinz is quite the sharp-dressed man tonight. He was just telling us a fascinating tale about his watch.”

  “Oh?” Mitch glanced down at Julia, then at Doug. “What’s so special about your watch, Doug?”

  Doug shrugged. “Nothing you’d be interested in, Mitch.”

  “Well, I’m interested.” Julia smiled at Doug. “Let me see it.”

  Doug hesitated then shot back the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket as he glared at Mitch.

  The watch was an exquisite antique timepiece.

  “Rolex,” Mitch said. “Wow. The insurance business must pay better than I thought.”

  “It’s a family heirloom.” Trip interjected. “Isn’t it, Mr. Heinz?”

  Doug’s expression turned wary. “My great-grandfather’s.”

  “Tell them the story, Mr. Heinz.” Trip Youngblood glanced from Doug to Mitch then back again. “I’m sure they’ll find it as fascinating as we did.”

  Julia linked her arm with Doug’s. “Do tell, Doug. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

  “Not much to tell. My great-grandfather took it off a dead German during World War II.” Doug was looking more and more uncomfortable.

  “Go on, man,” Trip said, “tell them how he took it off the corpse of a German soldier at the battle of El Alamein. How he passed it on to his only great-grandson.” He leaned back on his heels and eyed Doug for a long moment.

  Mitch wondered what had set Trip Youngblood off about the watch. Was it merely that he had Doug down for the interloper he was or was there more to it than met the eye?

  Doug cleared his throat and adjusted the sleeve of his jacket. Suddenly a streak of black fury flew across the room from the open doorway and, with a twisting leap into the air, caught Doug by the sleeve. Doug let out a yelp and jerked back as glass from the crystal chandelier just above and slightly behind them shattered. Trouble fell to the floor and landed on all fours. Mitch tackled Julia and covered her with his body.

  “I’ve been cut!” Chappie cried out as he stared at his hand where he had wiped at his face. “I’m bleeding!

  “Get down!” Mitch yelled. He eased off Julia and checked her face, shoulders, and arms. “Are you hit?”

>   “What happened?”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Stay down.” Mitch rose to a crouch and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. He duck walked to the window and moved to the edge before he stood and glimpsed around the opening.

  “Kill the lights, for god’s sake.”

  * * *

  Humans. The old geezer was trying to tell them that The Voice was a nasty piece of business but no one would follow his lead. Now the burglar is gone, vanished in the hue and cry over the gunshot. But I got my claws into him good. He’ll have a scar on that wrist, mark my words. It’ll match the one on his left calf nicely.

  The place is crawling with rozzers from the local police to U.S. Marshals Deputies and the FBI. The Lawman doesn’t seem to be faring too well with Julia. She has rightly taken exception to the fact he kept her in the dark about the true nature of The Voice, a Russian mobster, and, I suspect, the one the Lawman calls Pretty Boy.

  It’s a good thing I hitched a ride with the Lawman. Otherwise someone would be dead on this lovely Persian carpet. I suspect The Voice was the object of the assassin’s bullet but a good detective never jumps to conclusions. That Chappie fellow begs a closer look. The bullet only grazed his cheek and he all but fainted when he realized what had happened. I doubt an ambulance was necessary to take him to the hospital for such a little scratch but the histrionics were annoying.

  The heat of the moment is over and, I must say, everyone, with the exception of Chappie, has taken the events of the evening in stride. I suppose the truly rich don’t cower at the first sign of anarchy. If anything, the excitement has heightened the merriment of the party. Maybe they view it as something of a parlor game: the butler in the library with a candlestick.

  I like Aunt Ethel. She has magic fingers and a sense of humor. Now if I could only hear what Julia and the Lawman are saying. From the body language the very polite, public exchange is anything but. From the smoldering look in the Lawman’s eyes I’d say he’s frustrated with the turn of events and, having seen him react to the solicitous concern of Vinnie in regard to our Julia, he’s also jealous.

  “Looks like a lodge meeting,” Aunt Ethel says.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Julia’s mother seems pleased with herself but the comment causes little lines to appear on her forehead as she frowns.

  “A saying of Daddy’s.”

  “About?”

  “You remember Jeter?” Aunt Ethel waves her hand dismissively. “Of course you don’t. That was my childhood.” She runs her fingers under my chin and I almost loose the thread of the conversation.

  “Anyway, Jeter would disappear for days, sometimes weeks. Then he’d come dragging home, his fur matted, ear all torn, limping, and half starved.” She chuckles. “Daddy would say he’d been to a lodge meeting.”

  “Honestly, Ethel.”

  “Well, just look at them, all bowed up.” She lifts me higher and rubs her cheek against my fur. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? To nudge Julia back out there?”

  Julia’s mother sighs. “She’s twenty-eight. If she doesn’t date she can’t find anyone.”

  “You should let her be, Audrey. She’ll find the right one in her own good time. Or not. Marital bliss is overrated if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you, Ethel. I want grandchildren.”

  Both women are silent as their gazes travel from Vinnie to the Lawman.

  “My money’s on the lawman,” Aunt Ethel says as she scratches between my ears.

  Audrey frowns. “Really? Not Vincent or the guy who was her date?”

  “I remember Vincent when he was Vinnie. And there’s something off about the salesman.”

  “He’s an insurance agent.”

  “Yes,” Aunt Ethel says, “and he’s selling himself all the time.”

  “Who do you think they were shooting at?”

  Aunt Ethel chuckles. “My bet would be Chappie. He’s the most annoying little pissant.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, Ethel. I’m sure they’ll find it’s some disgruntled former employee, or one of those little anarchists popping up all over the place these days, looking for attention, wanting to cause trouble for its own sake.” She sighs. “Here in sleepy little Savannah.”

  * * *

  Mitch’s heart still raced. He had little doubt that Doug had been the target of the shot fired into the midst of the partiers. Julia had been standing at Doug’s side, so close that the least tremor of the shooter’s hand, a miniscule change in the breeze, a moment of hesitation, could have caused it to find Julia. He chastised himself for the hundredth time. What kind of lawman put the innocent in danger’s way? And all in aid of a lowlife like Viktor Letov.

  The Golf course was alight with men searching for clues. They found the berm where the shooter had lain in wait for his opportunity. It was a professional job, no question about that. Mitch considered that an affirmation of his belief that Letov had been the intended target.

  Although Julia’s mother and Aunt Ethel seemed calm enough in the face of events, her father wasn’t best pleased. He had demanded to know what was going on and in light of the need for a whole army of law enforcement personnel, Mitch had informed him and Julia of the true nature of Doug Heinz’ sojourn in Savannah. It had taken a good deal of sweet talking on Julia’s part to assure her father that Peter Ryder had brought her into this circle of danger by assigning her the cases of art theft. But Mitch knew Woodrow Hampton laid the blame squarely at his feet, and rightly so.

  Though she had defended his actions to her father, Julia wasn’t so ready to let him off the hook. “You should have told me.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You couldn’t?”

  “He’s a witness. It’s my job.”

  She looked stunned for a moment. “Right. I see.”

  The teasing, conspiring cohort of earlier in the evening was gone. Mitch could see the change. It was there in her eyes, in her posture, in the bland smile.

  “Well, Deputy Lawson, what happens next?”

  “We’ll find him. He’ll disappear into a new life.”

  “I see.” She stared at him a second longer. “And what about the thefts? What about Peter Ryder?”

  “You need to let go of all that, Julia. For your own sake. It’s too dangerous to pursue it any further.” He could see her drawing away even though she hadn’t moved. “These things will be resolved by the proper authorities.”

  “I see.” She offered her hand. “Thank you, Deputy.”

  Mitch took her hand and refused to let it go when she would withdraw from the handshake. “Don’t be foolish, Julia.”

  “I won’t, Mitch.” She managed to free her hand. “Not again.”

  Her father appeared at her side just then. “Come on, Julia. The car is here. You’re going home with me and your mother.”

  Julia made no attempt at placating her father this time. “No, Daddy. I’m going home, to my home.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Her father’s face began to redden. “There’s a criminal out there,” he shot Mitch a scathing look, “who has designs on you.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Hampton,” Mitch said. “I already have two men posted at Julia’s house and she’ll be under my personal protection until we have our man in custody.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t find that reassuring, Deputy Lawson.” Woodrow Hampton was gearing up to do battle. “But I think I know best how to take care of my family. Julia is going home with me.”

  “Stop it, both of you.” Julia took a step back. “I won’t be imprisoned by your concern. It’s my life and I’ll live it as I like, doing what I enjoy.”

  Her father was on the point of exploding and Mitch raised a placating hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hampton. I assure you that now that we know the danger to Ms. Hampton we’ll ensure her safety.” He was watching Julia as he spoke. “She has done nothing wrong and I’m going to fix this. It’s my jo
b.”

  Julia’s eyes widened. “I won’t have…”

  “You have no choice. Until Viktor Letov is in custody you’re under protection from the U.S. Marshals. Whether you want it or not.” His tone of voice brooked no argument.

  “Of all the high-handed, manipulative…”

  “Julia,” Woodrow Hampton cleared his throat, “I think the Deputy is right. If I know you, and I do, you’ll be up to your neck meddling in this matter until you get yourself hurt.”

  “Meddling! You think what I do is meddling?” Her body was taut with outrage. She looked from one to the other. “I won’t stand for it, you hear me? I won’t!”

  With that, she turned and stormed toward the door.

  Woodrow Hampton gave Mitch an assessing look. “I’m trusting you with the only thing in my life I truly care about. You’d better keep her safe.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let her out of my sight.” He shook Woodrow Hampton’s hand and followed after Julia. For all his reassurances to her father, Mitch felt a niggle of apprehension. There was more to this woman than a charming Southern belle. She was intelligent, intuitive, tenacious, and rapidly becoming a pain in the butt. A charming pain, but a pain nonetheless. He needed to be spearheading the search for Viktor Letov but he found his concern for Julia’s safety more compelling than doing his sworn duty.

  He caught up with her as she descended the steps of The Club and slipped her arm through his. “This way.”

  “I have a car.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that but you’re riding with me. And dining with me, and sleeping…”

  She tugged to free her arm from his grasp.

  “—under the same roof as me.”

  “Of all the overbearing, chauvinistic…”

  He stopped and turned her to face him. “Julia,” he said, “shut up.” Then he kissed her.

  * * *

  The kiss caught Julia by surprise as did her reaction to it. She had always dismissed the notion of a kiss making a woman swoon but she realized that it was a very real thing. Her knees went weak and her arms went around his neck even as her anger made her lean away from the kiss.