by Cindy Sample
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Hank yawned. “It’s been real nice chatting with you all,” he said, “but Brooke and I have, um, work to do.”
Was that a four-letter euphemism for a three-letter act? And did I really want to know the answer? Besides Hank was right. I needed to get my children home and feed them. Ben grabbed his fishing gear and scampered off to our car. Jenna plodded behind him as if she carried the weight of the world, or Tony’s arrest, on her shoulders.
Mother and I followed the kids. I could tell by her demeanor that something was bothering her. I threw a comforting arm around her waist as we strolled down the sidewalk. “You seem unusually upset about Bradford joining Tom on the task force. You know it’s only a temporary gig.”
“Robert had no business agreeing to participate,” she said. “He knew I was dead set against it.”
“I thought the two of you discussed it, and he talked you into it.”
“He talked and I listened. I never gave him my permission.”
I stopped and stared at her. “I doubt he was asking for your permission, just your acceptance. You’re still working with your real estate clients. Do you expect him to sit around watching The Price is Right and The View while you’re at the office?”
“There are always chores he can do around the house if he wants to be helpful,” she asserted.
Seriously?
“There’s a world of difference between chores and community service,” I said.
“I know you’re right, but wait until you find out what roles Tom and Robert are assuming in their investigation. You’re not going to be any happier to hear what they’re up to than I was.”
“I have faith in whatever Tom takes on, and you need to trust your husband, too.”
“Let me know if you still feel that way after you speak with Tom.” She hugged me tightly then walked to her SUV.
My kids were already seat-belted in and ready to go, so we followed Mother’s car down the street. I looked forward to a quiet family dinner followed by a relaxing bath followed by a phone call from my honey.
In less than a half hour, we were seated at the table finishing our chicken taco dinner. A McKay family favorite––it didn’t get more nourishing or easy than that meal. Jenna offered to do the dishes, which I eagerly accepted. Floating in a bathtub full of plumeria-scented bubbles while reading a new mystery by Heather Haven would be my reward for a very long day.
The home phone rang in the bedroom just as I stepped into the water. I grabbed a towel, threw a wistful look at my fragrant bubbles and picked up the receiver.
“You sound out of breath,” Tom said. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Nope, just a big night in my bathtub, bubbles and all,” I replied.
“I wish I were there to share the evening with you.” He lowered his voice to a sexy baritone. “Bubbles and all.”
Be still my beating heart and everything else that was pulsating, including my tingling toes.
“How are…” I squeaked then cleared my throat to deliver a throaty “you?”
“Are you okay? You sound funny.”
“That was my sexy voice. I guess I’m out of practice.” In all respects.
“Well, I’m looking forward to helping you practice.”
My heart sped up even more. “Are you coming home?”
“As a matter of fact, I am, although not for long. I need to pick up one more addition to the task force on Monday.”
“I thought Bradford already drove up there today.”
“He’s here now. Ali Reynolds is joining the team.”
“Detective Reynolds?”
“She offered to assist us before, and now that she’s finally wrapped up the Thorson case, she’s available.”
“She arrested Tony Perez again,” I said. “And he’s innocent.”
“Not as far as Ali is concerned.”
“Then she hasn’t done her homework or procured all the evidence. In fact, she probably arrested him again just so she could close the case and play with you.”
“Laurel, don’t be ridiculous.” Tom’s voice held a tinge of anger indicating I may have pushed a button. “Ali is a professional through and through. Besides, that case doesn’t concern you. Please stay out of it.”
“An innocent young man has been thrown in jail. That would concern any citizen. Plus Tony’s grandmother is a good friend of Gran’s. If I don’t get involved, who knows what trouble Gran and Nina will get into together. They’re determined to prove his innocence.”
He blew out a forceful sigh. “Your family. Honestly. I can see why Bradford needed a break.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Look, I have to go. Can you get away for lunch on Monday? I’ll fill you in when I see you in person. Ali is a good detective. If she says the Thorson case is wrapped, then it’s wrapped. I want to close my own case as soon as I can, and we can really use her help here. Don’t you want me home safe in your arms again?” His voice moved back to seductive mode. “That’s where I’d rather be.”
Shoot. How could I complain when he made comments like that?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
With two weeks of laundry pleading for attention, I decided to skip chauffeur duty on Sunday. Instead, I handed over the car keys to my daughter and settled in for a quiet day of catching up on household tasks.
Jenna arrived home around three p.m. According to her, Sacramento news commentators had arrived in full force with camera crews and broadcasters swarming over every foot of the farm. Jenna grew tired of reporters thrusting microphones in her face, and after one aggressive bozo asked a particularly insensitive question, she had shoved a powdered sugar donut on the reporter’s mike.
I didn’t blame her. Reporters blindsided Dorie with questions about Tony’s parentage, which came as a complete surprise to her. The widow finally decided enough was enough and closed the farm a few hours early.
“When did you learn Axel was Tony’s father?” Jenna accused me. “You should have told me.”
“Nina brought it up yesterday. But she only recently figured it out herself.” I chewed on a hangnail as I contemplated her revelation. “I wonder how the reporters discovered their relationship. Who would have told them?”
Jenna stared at me, the wheels of her agile brain most likely spinning different scenarios.
“Did Tony know he was Axel’s son?” Jenna gnawed on her thumb, unknowingly mirroring me. Like mother, like daughter, unfortunately.
“Nina finally told him her suspicions the Friday night before Axel’s murder, although I don’t think the DNA results were back yet.” I shared everything else Nina and I had discussed the previous day.
“You don’t believe Tony killed his father, do you?”
“Honey, I barely know Tony, so I can’t possibly say for sure. He certainly had every right to be upset with Axel for a variety of reasons. I’m surprised Axel never put two and two together and figured it out for himself.”
“Dorie was so shocked when the reporter mentioned it to her that she was speechless.” Jenna said. “I feel so sorry for her. One horrible thing after another keeps happening.”
“We need to do everything we can to support her. Did Eric mention anything to you about Tony and him being half-brothers?”
“No, but I saw Eric talking to that same reporter about twenty minutes before the guy approached Dorie.”
“Do you think Eric found out and shared the information with the reporter?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“Even the murder of his father?” I asked.
She remained silent for a minute. “Hard to tell. Eric is one weird dude. And he seems intent on making sure Tony stays in jail, which means we need to focus on helping Tony get out. So what do we do next?”
“The towels should be dry by now. You could fold them and put them in the linen closet.”
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “You know that’s not what I meant.�
�
I laughed. “Yes, I know. But I can use all the extra help I can get around here if you want me to continue helping Tony.”
Jenna gave me a high five then hugged and thanked me.
I was going to keep asking questions, so I might as well stay in my daughter’s good graces while I was at it, and help her to stay in mine.
Monday morning arrived with a twenty-degree drop in temperature and a few dribbles of rain. After too many parched winters, Californians welcomed the sprinkles with open arms, buckets and reservoirs.
I arrived at the bank a few minutes early. After depositing my purse and raincoat in my office, my next stop was the break room. I poured a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, then peeked at the front page of the Mountain Democrat. The headlines screamed the news about Tony’s arrest for the alleged murder of his father.
The poor kid. I was almost relieved he was temporarily incarcerated so he couldn’t be pestered by the reporters. Nina must be beside herself with worry. The article made me wonder how the media discovered the relationship between the father and son. Certainly Nina didn’t share the information with them. Did Eric do it? And did he also supply the information to the detective to distract her from looking at him as a suspect and focus on Tony instead?
Based on my daughter’s behind-the-scenes report of Dorie’s response when the news broke, she had not been aware of the relationship. Would Axel have discussed something this personal with his brother? Although they didn’t appear to be particularly close, they were siblings. Did Tony’s existence impact Axel’s estate?
The more questions I asked, the more I came up with. It was long past time for me to have a chat with Paul Thorson. I googled the phone number for his center, and he answered the phone himself. They must not be pulling in enough revenue to afford office help. I mentioned he’d been recommended to me as a life coach, and he offered me a choice of eight different appointment times in the next twenty-four hours. The life coaching business must not be booming yet. We settled on 5:00 p.m. for a one-hour consultation at his office, located directly above Serenity Sweets. Paul informed me the first hour was free, and I told him that was an excellent concept.
I’d barely hung up when my phone rang again. This time the caller was the bank president’s secretary.
“Mr. Chandler wants to meet with you at ten,” Belle said. “Will that work for you?”
Did it matter if that time worked into my schedule or not? “Of course,” I said to her. “I’ll see you then.”
I attempted to occupy myself with bank business during the next hour, but it was impossible not to worry about my impending meeting. Was Mr. Chandler curious how successful I’d been in bringing in new deposits?
About as successful as I’d been in solving Axel’s murder, which was probably not the answer he was shooting for. I made a few phone calls to some apple and pumpkin farms and by 9:50 a.m., I’d managed to fill my Tuesday with business development calls. Hopefully that would satisfy Mr. Chandler’s expectations.
I trotted up the stairs to the executive suite, legal pad in hand and a fixed smile plastered on my face. Belle even complimented me on my new teal blue cardigan set. It didn’t take much skill to purchase a sleeveless top and long matching cardigan, but I’d take flattery from the executive fashionista any time.
Laughter drifted out of Mr. Chandler’s office so I waited for him to finish his conversation. Belle motioned for me to enter. Since she was the official gatekeeper, I obeyed.
Oh, goody. My least favorite marketing person was chatting with the bank president.
“Good morning, Mr. Chandler,” I said, sounding far more perky than I felt. I nodded at his visitor. “Adriana.”
“Laurel, lovely to see you as always,” she chirped.
Since when? But I could play this game, too.
“Same here,” I replied, although my tone was a few degrees less chirpy.
“Thank you for joining us,” Mr. Chandler said.
Not a problem. I’m always happy to meet with the man who signs my paycheck. But why was my marketing rival here? I smiled at him and took a seat.
Adriana reached into a folder, produced a few sheets of paper and handed them over to Mr. Chandler. He glanced at them and nodded his approval.
“As you can see,” she said briskly, “even though my marketing campaign has only been in operation for a few days, we’ve already brought in ten new business banking relationships plus two high-deposit clients with assets worth several million each.”
“Well done, Adriana.” Mr. Chandler smiled as if she’d placed a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills in his palm. I didn’t even have a donut to sweeten his day much less any million-dollar depositors.
“How is your campaign going, Laurel?” Adriana asked.
“Great. I have another eight meetings scheduled for tomorrow. Once I’m finished, I’ll present the results to Mr. Chandler.” Hopefully, one of those meetings would bring in some bank revenue.
Otherwise my progress report would consist of a sticky note with a bold black zero written across it.
“Excellent. I look forward to your report,” he said. “Now, how are the plans for the Apple Gala going? Any issues with the change of venue to Valley View?”
Adriana and I both rushed to answer his question. I decided to be gracious and let her handle the update.
“Walter was, of course, devastated by what happened to Axel. The two men were very close,” she said. “But moving the gala from Apple Tree Farm to Valley View Vineyards has provided him the opportunity to showcase his new event center. We continue to sell tickets online, so I anticipate attendance will be the same as last year. Possibly higher due to the, um…”
“Murder,” I said. “At least the foundation will benefit from all the media attention. There certainly hasn’t been any shortage of press regarding Axel’s death.”
“Can you believe his illegitimate son killed him?” Adriana said. “This is playing out like a soap opera. But you know what they say, even bad press sells tickets.”
Mr. Chandler frowned. I doubted the president backed her theory, as far as Hangtown Bank’s reputation was concerned.
“Tony did not murder his father,” I stated emphatically.
“You’re such a softy,” Adriana scoffed. “Walter has connections with the Sheriff’s Office, and he told me the detective said the case was cut and dry as far as she was concerned.”
“Well, they’re not always right,” I said, trying not to get huffy. But it wasn’t easy. Adriana looked so smug about––everything.
“Don’t underestimate Laurel,” Mr. Chandler said to Adriana. “She’s full of surprises.”
Wow. A compliment from the bank president. I hoped he was right. And I really hoped any surprises I produced would be positive for the bank.
Or else I might surprise myself out of a job.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
We concluded our meeting a few minutes later. Mr. Chandler was pleased to hear the gala would proceed smoothly despite the circumstances. Since this was the largest sponsorship event Hangtown Bank offered each year, success was a high priority.
When I returned to my office, I discovered Tom had called in my absence. Could I meet him at Mel’s at 11:30 a.m.?
Sure could. Sure would.
I blazed through a small stack of branch requests and walked into the restaurant only a minute late. Tom waved at me from a rear corner booth. If nothing else, we could swap a kiss or two. I weaved my way between diners and slid into the slick leather seat next to him.
We briefly locked lips. His lips were soft, his beard was not. I grimaced and pulled away.
“I sense you don’t approve of my new look,” he said, resting his right hand on my thigh.
My tingle meter went out of control. I might not care for his scratchy beard, but the touch of his palm on my thigh worked its usual magic.
I tugged on his beard. “It’s an interesting look, but I’ll be happy when you’re back to nor
mal.”
He took my palm in his. “Me, too. And I’ll be glad to nail these dirt bags and put them away as long as possible.”
Our server appeared, and we quickly placed our orders. I was far more interested in my dining companion than my dining options.
“Since you’re closing in on these criminals, can you share anything with me? Like why you need Reynolds’ help?”
He tweaked my nose. “Jealous?”
“Never.” Okay, kind of.
He swirled the straw around his soda before replying.
“Look, I know you can keep a secret, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone, including your mother.”
I held up my hand and promised to maintain complete secrecy no matter how much chocolate any member of my family waved under my nose.
“You might have read about Mexican farmers switching from growing marijuana to a more lucrative product––poppies.”
“Not the pretty yellow and orange California poppies that cover the hills in the spring, right?” I said.
“Nope, these poppies are responsible for producing opium which is then turned into heroin. Users have discovered easier methods of ingesting heroin other than needles. In the past that kept a lot of squeamish people away from the stuff. Plus there’s a ton of supply out there now so the price has come down. Heroin is fast becoming a huge problem everywhere, including high school campuses in this state.”
“And your job is to stop these lowlifes from polluting our schools?” I asked.
“That’s the long and short of it. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop the heroin traffickers.”
“And that’s why you’re my hero.”
He ducked his head. “Just doing my job.”
He kissed me, and this time I didn’t even notice his beard.
Our server chose that moment to deliver our entrées. We pulled apart and remained silent while he placed our orders on the table.
