Rocky Mountain Maneuvers

by Cassie Miles

  No way. That transformation couldn’t happen. Unlike his father, Adam controlled his temper just as he controlled his intake of alcohol—never more than a single glass, which he savored. And Molly was nobody’s doormat.

  And so…the next step. Marriage?

  There was no rush. Molly wasn’t going to disappear or anything. But he wanted to move forward. If he’d learned anything from the disruption of his plans last night, it was this: you can’t plan for emotions. Every logistical detail could be thwarted by a whim, a feeling, a doubt, a fear.

  Last night and this morning, he’d wanted to tell Molly he loved her. The words had climbed up his throat more than once. But he held his tongue. He didn’t feel it was the perfect moment.

  He escorted her toward the ballroom where tables were set with lavish centerpieces and a dance floor was cleared for action. Only a few of the guests had arrived from the church where the ceremony had taken place, but the waiters stood at the ready. The first person to approach Molly and Adam was Denny Devlin.

  Ignoring Adam, he spoke to Molly in a panicky, quavering tone. “Where are they? The ice sculpture is melting.”

  “I’m not in charge,” she said. “You’ll have to talk to Gloria.”

  “If I could find her.” When he scowled, his chef hat slipped lower on his forehead. “I have a very special arrangement with the staff here. I’m one of the only outside caterers they use, and they wouldn’t allow me in the building after that…you know.”

  “The hepatitis incident,” Adam said, cheerfully reminding him of the debacle that nearly ruined his career.

  “Shhhhh.” Denny glanced to the left and right, wary of encroaching viral infections. “Anyway, it’s vital for everything to be perfect.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Molly said. “By the way, I came across a name, and I wondered if you’ve ever heard of this person. Phil Prath.”

  At the mention of the mysterious person who rented the downtown loft, Adam watched Denny’s reaction. Though the caterer was already wound tighter than the mainspring on a Swiss watch, he was visibly startled.

  Denny shook his head in denial. “Never heard of him.”

  “I think you have,” Molly pressed. “I think you know exactly who I’m talking about.”

  “I’m warning you,” he said, “leave this alone.”

  Denny pivoted swiftly and raced back toward the table with the ice sculpture that had already morphed into something resembling a blobby snowman.

  When Molly leaned toward him, Adam caught a whiff of her perfume. Today’s fragrance was spicy and tantalizing. It reminded him of sex.

  Quietly, she said, “Denny’s in on the crime. He knows Phil Prath.”

  “I don’t like the warning,” Adam said. “I’d feel a lot better if you were carrying a gun.”

  “It wouldn’t fit in my purse,” she said.

  He eyed the crescent-shaped purse of blue-and-white leather. “It’s plenty big enough for a .22 caliber pistol.”

  “But I need my cell phone and my keys and lipstick. A gun would make an ugly bulge. Did you notice that the purse matches my shoes?”

  Another pair of ridiculously high heels, unsuitable for sprinting. “I want you to stay close to me, Molly. Don’t go wandering off by yourself.”

  He’d been so intoxicated by last night that he’d almost forgotten the real reason they were here. According to the anonymous note, the crime was set for this afternoon. Any minute now.

  As guests poured into the ballroom, Adam switched to a supervigilant mode. He scanned faces in the crowd, needing to be aware of every move, every nuance.

  He and Molly probably should have gone to the church to stake out the actual ceremony, but that was a more controlled setting, and he had confidence in the abilities of Tony and the other CCC volunteers who would help Lucien Smythe guard the necklace.

  Still, when Heidi and her groom entered the ballroom to applause, Adam was relieved. The little bride was wearing the diamonds.

  “Wow!” Molly said. “That necklace is amazing.”

  Though jewelry didn’t generally impress him, Adam had to agree. Several strands of diamonds hung from a fancy latticework of gleaming white gold.

  “And look,” Molly said smugly. “She didn’t change my suggestions for the gown.”

  Heidi glittered from the top of her veil to the hem of her skirt. If the sparkles stitched onto the fabric had been real, her bridal outfit would have been worth another eight hundred thousand dollars.

  Adam was pleased to see Tony and two other CCC volunteers standing close to the bridal party. In their tuxedos and dress shoes, these retired military men fit in very nicely with the rest of the crowd. Maneuvering subtly, they managed to stay within an arm’s length of Heidi at all times.

  Lucien Smythe brought up the rear. He came directly toward them. After shaking Adam’s hand and gallantly kissing the tips of Molly’s fingers, he said, “I’ve never had such effective security. Thank you for making the arrangements.”

  Molly accepted the compliment. “Your necklace looks perfect with Heidi’s gown.”

  “I never would have suggested more glitter,” he said. “But you’re right. She told me that she was supposed to look like a snow princess, and I believe she does.”

  “What’s the procedure with the necklace?” Adam asked. “What happens if Heidi leaves this room to powder her nose?”

  “She’ll be accompanied up to her room,” Lucien said. “No public restrooms, of course.”

  “And when the reception is over?”

  “Very simple. We escort Heidi to her room, and she hands over the jewels. Your men will return to the store with me.”

  The plan seemed simple and straightforward. If stealing the necklace was the intended crime, Adam couldn’t imagine how the thieves would pull it off.

  Before Lucien departed, he glanced between Molly and Adam. “It’s a shame that Molly is engaged to someone else. You make a handsome couple.”

  “Thank you,” Molly said.

  She glanced down at the engagement ring that had once belonged to Adam’s mother. All too soon, she’d have to return these lovely diamonds to their resting place in the CCC wall safe. She couldn’t be an undercover bride forever.

  Though it had been fun to pretend that she was getting married, the exercise was superficial and wearing on her nerves—even more after last night with Adam. When he held her after they’d made earthshaking love, she felt different than ever before. Safe in his arms, she wondered if she’d finally found her mate, the man she was supposed to be with for the rest of her life.

  All these years, true love had been right under her nose. Who knew?

  As the ballroom began to fill up, waiters in white jackets circulated with glasses of champagne and trays of hors d’oeuvres. Some of the guests were finding their places at the tables.

  As she and Adam milled at the edge of the growing crowd, Molly caught a glimpse of Gloria, who seemed to be having a very intense conversation with Denny Devlin. Were they talking about Phil Prath? Would Gloria take Denny’s warning to the next level?

  Beside her, Adam groaned and said, “This is going to take forever.”

  “I’m afraid so.” There were all the wedding reception rituals to go through. “The cutting of the cake. The toasts. The first dance by the bride and groom. Not to mention the dinner.”

  Under his breath, he said, “Maybe we should go back up to our room for a while.”

  Though the thought was tempting, she turned him down. “We haven’t done all this investigating to back off now. Something’s up. I can feel it.”

  “Molly, nobody is going to steal that necklace. Not with three armed guards and Lucien standing guard. If that was the planned crime, it’s been foiled.”

  “What if it’s something else?”

  She directed him toward Stan Lansky who stood quietly beside an attractive young woman who Molly recognized from her photo. “Hi, Stan. This must be your wife.”

&nbs
p; “Tammy,” he introduced her proudly.

  With a bright smile, she shook Molly’s hand. “I love weddings, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Molly said. “Your dress is gorgeous. Did Stan make it for you?”

  Tammy gave a twirl and her lacy pink gown fluttered delicately around her. “My husband is a genius. He should be a designer.”

  “He does good work,” Molly agreed. “The extra sparkles on Heidi’s gown are terrific. She looks like a million bucks.”

  “I have an idea,” Tammy said.

  She seemed so young that Molly halfway expected her to suggest a game of jump rope. “What’s that?”

  “You’re getting married,” Tammy said, pointing to the engagement ring. “You could use Stan as your designer.”

  With both of them gazing up at her expectantly, she couldn’t refuse. “I promise, Stan. When I get married, you’ll be the one who designs my gown.”

  “And you can have all the sequins you want,” he said.

  When he was with Tammy, his personality changed completely. He went from a rabbity, nervous man to a worldly sophisticate.

  As she and Adam strolled away, she muttered, “This just gets worse and worse. We really haven’t figured out anything. The jewels are safe—”

  “You sound disappointed about that.”

  “Of course I’m not.” If they’d prevented a crime, that should be satisfaction enough. “But we still don’t know who attacked Pierce. Or me. And we still don’t know why.”

  “It’s a little vague,” Adam said.

  “And now, Stan and Tammy are all excited about my impending wedding to the nonexistent kangaroo farmer. I’m such a fraud.”

  She stood quietly for a moment. The several bridesmaids, including the pregnant one, scattered through the room like petals from a pink taffeta rose. Everyone seemed so happy.

  Molly herself had ample reason to be cheerful. Her new relationship with Adam should have been enough to make her smile. But she felt deflated.

  Adam cleared his throat. “Have I mentioned how great you look?”

  “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but all the compliments in the world aren’t going to clean up this investigation.” All the pieces were there. She just couldn’t put them together into a coherent solution. “I guess I’m not much good as a detective.”

  Adam didn’t answer. He didn’t build up her ego with false praises. That wasn’t his way. Adam was always and forever truthful.

  He offered, “Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’d love a glass of champagne.”

  “Be back in a sec,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Of course, she’d be standing right here, unmoving and uninspired. She watched the ebb and flow of the guests as they crossed the room, meeting and greeting each other. The arrangement of tables at the edge of the dance floor created a bottleneck, and that was where Stan was standing.

  Molly focused on him as he turned away from Tammy for a moment and bumped against another couple. If Molly hadn’t been a pickpocket herself, she might not have noticed that Stan had lifted the other man’s wallet.

  “Well, well,” she murmured. Stan Lansky was the magpie, after all. Returning her pen had been a ruse.

  She edged toward him, intending to confront him with the evidence. But Stan had moved away. He’d left Tammy on the floor, chatting happily with one of the bridesmaids while he edged toward the exit.

  Molly glanced quickly over her shoulder. She ought to find Adam and tell him where she was going, but she couldn’t let Stan get away with the evidence. As long as he had that wallet in his pocket, she had proof that he was the magpie.

  Pushing her way toward the exit, Molly felt a firm grip on her arm. She spun around. “Ronald.”

  “Going somewhere?” His eyes were cold. “You know, sweetie, I still can’t believe you were investigating me. Moi? I’m so totally innocent.”

  “You haven’t been innocent since the day you were born,” she said. “Let go of my arm.”

  “Honey, we need to chat.”

  “Not unless you’re willing to tell me the truth.” She kept her eye on the exit. Stan was almost there. He’d been stopped for a moment by Gloria.

  “Before I tell you, I want to be sure you’re not going to the real police.”

  She wrenched away from him. There wasn’t time to be pleasant and glib. “Does this have anything to do with Phil Prath?”

  Ronald shuddered. His lips pinched tightly together. “It’s not my fault. Gloria made me do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “A fake identification. No big deal.”

  “For Phil Prath?”

  “And a few others. They were Gloria’s friends from Thailand, and she insisted. Sweetie, it was almost like a joke.”

  “Not funny,” she said. There were many other questions she needed to ask, but not right now.

  “Molly, sweetheart, please try to understand.”

  “We’ll talk later.”

  She raced toward the exit. Stan was getting away, and she had only one chance to catch him with the stolen wallet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Molly tailed Stan Lansky as he crossed the lobby and left the Brown Palace. At dusk on a Saturday in downtown Denver, she was finally doing the work of a real detective—pursuing a thief with the evidence of his crime tucked in the trouser pocket of his immaculately tailored suit.

  She stayed half a block behind Stan, dodging behind lampposts and mingling with other pedestrians. Though her fancy blue dress and ropes of pearls made her an obvious standout in a crowd, Stan hadn’t seemed to notice her. The few times he glanced over his shoulder, she’d been careful to duck behind someone taller.

  Her skills at tailing and surveillance were lousy, and she couldn’t believe he hadn’t spotted her. What if he had seen her? What if he meant for her to follow? This could all be a ruse. He might be luring her into an ambush.

  She scanned the well-lit streets between tall buildings, looking for danger and finding nothing more ominous than a number fifteen bus. Molly took the cell phone from her purse and speed-dialed the phone she knew was in Adam’s tuxedo pocket.

  “Where the hell are you?” he demanded.

  “I saw Stan take a wallet. I’m tailing him.”

  “Damn it, Molly. I gave you one instruction: stay put. Was that so hard to—”

  “I’m heading north on Seventeenth,” she said. “And I’m not turning back. Stan has the wallet. That’s proof. He’s the magpie.”

  Stan didn’t frighten her. Perhaps he should. He had to be crazy to think he could get away with another magpie theft when security in the ballroom was so tight. Stan knew about the extra guards; he’d been in Gloria’s shop when she made the arrangements for Tony and the other CCC guards to accompany Lucien Smythe.

  Was Stan crazy? Or smart like a fox. With all the attention focused on the diamond necklace, it might be a very clever time to pick a pocket or two.

  That little creep! She stepped up her pace on the sidewalk as he approached the corner. Moments before he stole the wallet, he’d been chatting with Molly and smiling. He’d promised to sew her a wedding gown with plenty of sparkle. And all the while, he was plotting his next theft.

  He slipped into a multistory parking structure, and she reported to Adam, “He’s going into the EZ Park Garage.”

  “Don’t follow him. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  But she couldn’t stay back. She had to see where Stan was going, and she damn sure wouldn’t let him get away with his loot.

  Inside the garage, her high heels clicked loudly on the concrete, and she paused to take them off and carry them. Her annoyance at Stan racheted up a few notches. Her panty hose were going to be ruined.

  Hiding behind parked cars, she followed Stan as he hiked up the ramp to the second level. Halfway up, he stopped behind a late model gray sedan and plugged his key into the lock for the trunk.

  Molly ducked behind an SUV and watched.r />
  Calmly, Stan removed the stolen wallet from his pocket. As he sorted through the contents, she glimpsed a furtive smile on his face. He took out the cash and discarded the wallet on the floor of the parking garage.

  Then, he opened his trunk and reached inside to rearrange the contents. A brand new toaster. A Mixmaster still in the box. A shiny silver tray.

  He stood up straight and dug into his pockets—which must have been specially tailored to be exceptionally deep. Stan pulled out a couple of silver place settings. More loot.

  He was, without doubt, the thief.

  From outside the garage, Molly heard the endless rumble of traffic on the downtown streets. In here, Stan was humming. Though she didn’t recognize the tune, the melody sounded upbeat. He was happy, almost giddy.

  In his black suit and white shirt, his coloring reminded her of a magpie, cackling over small, stolen treasures. Bits of string and foil. Shiny objects.

  Stan Lansky was a very strange bird.

  When he slammed the trunk and went around to the driver’s side door, Molly knew she had to stop him. She couldn’t allow him to drive away with the evidence.

  She stood. In a loud, firm voice, she said, “It’s over, Stan.”

  He whirled around. His shoulders hunched and he squinted though the garage was well-lit. “Molly?”

  “You’re the one who’s been stealing things from the weddings.” She strode toward him, gesturing angrily with her shoe. “I saw you pick that man’s pocket at the Brown Palace.”

  “Your word against mine,” he said.

  “Stan, the inside of your trunk is stuffed with loot.”

  He darted toward his trunk as though he intended to shield his treasures from her with his body. “What does it matter? The rich people won’t miss these things. I deserve them.”

  “You stole—”

  “I work hard,” he said. “I cater to their whims, listen to their whining and complaining. They have everything. It’s not fair.”

  Life wasn’t fair. Molly would agree with that. “But you can’t steal to even out the balance.”