Forger.
Newport Beach
Wednesday night
19
Bliss stared at the credit cards and debit cards on her kitchen table. Every time she’d tried to use one of them today, the “request” had been denied. She’d had to pay for the all-day spa treatment out of her own checkbook. She hadn’t really understood how much it cost until she sat there and wrote the check. Three thousand dollars plus six hundred in tips. Thirty-six hundred dollars for a facial, pedicure, body peel, botox shots, haircut and three-color frost, body waxing, manicure, massage, makeover—all the things a woman her age needed not to look her age.
Thirty-six hundred bucks. Jesus.
She was used to just signing a chit and never looking at the amount, because the money all came out of Forrest family funds. Or it had, until she tried to make her father surrender some control over the land.
Is he really mad?
He’s really determined. Different thing entirely.
As always, Rory had been right. Her father was going to do things his way and to hell with who got hurt in the process.
“Bliss?” Rory asked from the bedroom.
“In the kitchen,” she said.
She looked up as he came into the kitchen, rumpled and too sexy to be over fifty. Life really was unfair to women, she decided all over again. Not that Rory had complained about how she looked. After dinner they had gone at each other like teenagers and finally had fallen asleep in a slippery, satisfied pile.
Why is this the one man for me when there’s a world full of males I can handle without breaking a sweat?
There wasn’t any answer. There hadn’t ever been, but she kept asking anyway, hoping one day she would figure it all out.
“What are you doing?” Rory asked, rubbing his bare chest idly.
“Wondering how long Daddy’s going to stay mad.”
Rory looked at the pile of plastic cards while a combination of anger and helplessness coursed through him. Ward knew all about fighting to win. Bliss knew only how to be rich. Rory had always admired Ward’s bottom-line business sense, but he hated seeing it applied to the woman he loved.
“How much do you owe?” he asked.
She lifted one shoulder.
“Guess,” he said.
“I just sign, I don’t look.”
“Twenty thousand? Thirty?”
She glanced up at him with hurting blue eyes. “Why is he doing this? It’s not like I’m asking him to give up the ranch. Just the places that are important, like Sandy Cove and the beaches we used as children and the canyon where Three and Granna Sandra died, and—”
“The places you’re describing are among the most easily developed, most accessible, and most valuable land on the whole damn ranch.”
“It’s my history even if it isn’t his. It’s Savoy money he’s spending, not his own. It’s my money, damn it!”
“Bliss…” Rory cursed under his breath and tried again, wondering if she would listen, really listen, this time. “Your mother argued that point most of her married life. It didn’t do her any good. It won’t do you any good. The only money you control is in trust funds. Saying that it should be different won’t put one penny in your bank accounts.”
There was a long, unhappy silence.
“He always ends up winning,” Bliss said in a thin voice.
Rory didn’t argue. It was the truth.
“Once, just once, I want him to lose,” she said fiercely. “Is that too much to ask?”
“How much are you willing to give up for it?” Rory asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You willing to try marriage again?”
She gave him a startled glance and almost smiled. “Why?”
“It’s the only way I can protect you. Ward respects a man’s right to stand up for what is his. But an employee getting in the way of a family dispute would be fired.”
“He’d never fire you. You’re the son he never had. He cares for you more than he does for me or Savvy.”
Rory just shook his head. “Ward would hand me my corporate pink slip and go out hunting pheasant without a thought. And when it came time for re-election, he’d back another candidate.”
Her mouth dropped open and stayed that way. Then she reeled in her astonishment. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can. You never knew your Grandfather Forrest real well, did you?”
“I never thought about it.”
“He was a very smart man and a natural politician. Charming to anyone who could do him some good. Hard as steel underneath the smile. He ran Moreno County with a clenched fist, both as sheriff and later as district attorney. Booted out some gambling gangsters and sent them to Las Vegas at a time when it was a real dangerous thing to do.”
Bliss tried to imagine her grandfather running gangsters out of town. She couldn’t. When she’d known him, he was a spidery old man with nothing much better to do than sit in the sun with a cat in his lap.
“I don’t imagine Theodore Forrest was much kinder to his son than Ward is to Savoy,” Rory continued. “The Forrests aren’t long on kindness, but if you want the job done, they’ll do it. And if they want the job done, you’d better do it or get the hell out of their way.”
“Was your family like that?” Bliss asked, curious about Rory in a way she’d never been when she was younger.
“Pretty much. Only poor, real poor. If your father hadn’t liked what he saw when I turned up looking for work at the ranch close to forty ago, I’d probably be someone’s hired man today instead of the sheriff of Moreno County and a member of the Savoy Ranch corporation board.”
“But you’d risk getting Daddy mad at you to help me.”
“Hell, Bliss, I’ve always loved you. I just can’t always live with you.”
She laughed almost sadly. “Same here, darling. Damn, life can be a tricky bitch.”
He held out his hand. “Come back to bed while we can still live with each other.”
“Want something to eat first?”
“Nope. How about you?”
Smiling, she pushed back from the table. Before she could take his hand, his cell phone rang. He rummaged through the pile of clothes on the living room floor, found his belt, and looked at the number in the cell phone window.
“Speak of the devil,” Rory muttered. He punched in the connect button. “Evening, Ward. Or should I say good morning?”
At home, Ward laughed curtly and scratched Honey Bear’s silky ears. The dog groaned and all but slid to the floor in a puddle of pleasure.
“Have you found January Marsh?” Ward asked.
“Lots of people in the county and state with the last name of Marsh. No one called January or Jan or Janet or Jane or any other variant we could think of. No driver’s license in those names. No voter registration. No property taxes. No business license. No wants, warrants, parking tickets, fingerprints, telephone numbers. No birth certificate on file in any state, no tax records either state or federal. No social security number. Offhand, I’d say the lady doesn’t exist.”
“Find her. I didn’t get you elected sheriff of Moreno County for the fun of it.”
“I have someone watching the paintings. If anyone asks to see them, man or woman, they’ll be tagged and followed. We’ll find her.”
“I want that painting, damn it!” As he spoke, Ward sank his fingers into Honey Bear’s thick fur. The dog stirred uneasily at the sudden pressure, then settled.
“The auction is Saturday,” Rory said patiently. “If we don’t find her sooner, we will when she comes to pick up her art.”
“Susa knows Ms. Marsh, or whatever the hell her name is. They’re going painting tomorrow.”
Then why are you badgering me? But Rory knew better than to say that aloud. The old man wasn’t reasonable when it came to his damned paintings. He’d spend whatever it took and defy God, the devil, or the members of the board to stop him.
“Will they be painting at the ranch?�
�� Rory asked.
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“If ‘Ms. Marsh’ shows up tomorrow, I’ll have her real identity by dinner.”
“How?”
“Does it matter?” Rory asked evenly.
Ward laughed and hung up.
“What was that all about?” Bliss asked.
“Your daddy has a bug up his ass about buying a painting.”
Rory punched numbers on his cell phone. Talk about a waste of taxpayer money. On the other hand, one way or the other, the lion’s share of the county taxes were being paid by Ward Forrest.
As soon as someone answered, Rory gave rapid-fire orders.
Newport Beach
Early Thursday morning
20
What’s wrong?” Susa asked.
Ian glanced at the rearview mirror yet again. Still there, hanging back in the early morning traffic. “Someone’s playing tag.”
“What?”
He thought of pushing a yellow light just to see what happened, but decided against it as he had every other time he’d been tempted this morning. If the car had been anything other than a beige Ford, he would have tried to dump the tail by breaking a few laws. That didn’t work when the guys behind you had badges.
“Tan sedan, three cars back,” Ian said. “A wolf in lambskin.”
She looked over her shoulder. After a few moments she spotted the sedan. It wasn’t hard. In southern California, almost no one but government types drove full-size American cars.
“You broken any laws lately?” she asked.
“Not in the last few days. I’m licensed for concealed weapons here. I even have the sheriff’s private number on the back of his business card if I need help from any of his boys and girls. Just one of the perks of working for someone Moreno County really wants to have around.”
“Rarities Unlimited?”
Ian laughed and shook his head. One of the things he really liked about Lawe’s mother was that she didn’t have any idea of her own importance to the world at large.
“It’s you, La Susa, not Rarities. Every local PD and county mountie is touchy about who does and doesn’t carry on their turf. The fact that I work for Rarities didn’t hurt, but it was being your gofer that really did the trick. Sheriff Rory Turner himself gave dispensation for me and my shoulder harness to follow you around Moreno County.”
Susa rolled her hazel eyes. “Spare me the testosterone brigade. It’s a good thing you aren’t a lump as a companion.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d really have to smack some ass the next time I saw Don.”
Ian gave her a slow sideways smile. “Sounds like fun.”
She snickered.
He signaled like a good citizen, turned, and drove down a side street, leaving the bumper-to-bumper grind of the coast highway behind. As soon as he found a space big enough for two cars, he pulled over.
“Forget something?” Susa said.
“Hope not.”
He watched the tan sedan approach, drive by, and park half a block down. “Stay here with the doors locked,” he said to Susa.
He got out and walked down to the sedan. The men inside made no effort to ignore him. In fact, the one in the passenger seat rolled down the window.
“Morning,” Ian said. “Do I know you?”
“He’s Deputy Glendower and I’m Deputy Harrison,” the man said, pointing to the driver first, then himself.
“Mind if I see some ID?” Ian asked mildly.
Harrison pulled out a badge.
Ian nodded and looked at the driver.
“Chrissake,” muttered Glendower, but he took a badge out of his suit coat and showed it to Ian. “You got something to show us?”
“No badge, sorry.” Ian’s smile was all teeth. “How about this?”
He took out his wallet and removed the business card with its handwritten number on the back.
Glendower looked at the card without surprise. “Say hi to Sheriff Turner for us.”
“Will do. You boys have something that can take back roads?”
“No.”
“In about half an hour, you’re going to need it. Have it delivered to the south entrance of the Savoy Ranch.”
Ian left as one of them reached for the radio to order up a four-wheel-drive vehicle. When he got back to Susa, he slid in behind the wheel.
“Well?” she asked.
“I’m double-checking.”
Keeping an eye on the sedan, Ian took out his cell phone and punched in Sheriff Rory Turner’s private number.
“Yeah?” Rory said, picking up, yawning.
“Ian Lapstrake. Sorry for calling you after hours, or before in this case. I’m being followed by a beige Ford sedan with two plainclothes in it. Glendower and Harrison. Are they yours?”
“Probably.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d find out for sure. I wouldn’t want to put a foot in the wrong place.” A cop’s balls, for instance.
“Hang on.”
Ian waited. It wasn’t long.
“They’re mine,” Rory said.
“Have you received threats against Susa or any information that she might be at risk?”
“No, but the more I thought about her, the more I didn’t like the idea of someone bothering her in any way. We aren’t as bad as Mexico or Italy, but kidnap for ransom isn’t unheard of here, either. It’s not going to happen on my watch if I can help it.”
Ian’s eyebrows went up. “I see. Thank you, Sheriff. Sorry to bother you.”
“No problem. If you notice any other cars or anything else odd, let me know.”
Susa watched Ian as he replaced the cell phone. “Everything okay?”
“They’re on the side of the angels.”
She let out a breath. “Okay. Let’s get Lacey and do some painting. She has to be back by eleven o’clock to open her shop.”
“You’re hoping she’ll tell you her real name all by herself.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Then I’m hoping she’ll tell me why she wanted a fake name in the first place.”
Newport Beach
Early Thursday morning
21
Lacey stood in the door of Lost Treasures Found and looked at Ian with eyes that were too dark against skin that was too pale. If she’d gotten any sleep last night, it didn’t show. The bruises beneath her eyes were big enough to frame.
“I’m sorry,” Lacey said tightly to Ian. “Something has come up. I can’t go painting with Susa.”
He smiled with gentle understanding and was inside the shop with the door closed behind him before she could blink.
“What could be more important than painting with the premier living artist in the United States?” he asked.
Lacey said the first thing that came to her mind. “I’m sick. I don’t want to infect anyone else.”
He might have bought it just on her looks alone, but she was such a bad liar that he didn’t even hesitate. “You’re not sick, you’re worried. What’s wrong? Is it something to do with your fake name?”
For an instant tears stood in her eyes. Then she turned her back and got herself under control. “Give Susa my regrets.”
“No. You’ll have to do that yourself.”
“I told you, I don’t want to infect anyone else.”
“Susa’s tough.” He put his hands on Lacey’s shoulders. “So am I. What’s wrong?”
Blindly, Lacey shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not? I’m discreet. I haven’t told anyone who asked me about your real name.” Which was the truth—Susa hadn’t asked.
The sudden stiffness of Lacey’s body told Ian all he needed to know. Bingo.
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it,” he said, no question in his voice. “Your fake name.”
She turned around and faced him.
His hands lifted, then settled on her shoulders again.
She felt the warm weight of his to
uch and wished that things were different. It had been a long, long time since any man had intrigued her on as many levels as he did. But things weren’t different. They were what they were, and she had a family to protect.
Die in Plain Sight Page 13
