by Cassie Miles
The stool in front of the makeup table had been overturned. The huge mirror surrounded by lights tilted at an angle, and the makeup containers were shoved back as though someone had leaned against the surface.
Liz imagined a struggle. Someone—like the hotheaded Ramon—might have forced Charlene backward against the makeup table.
Being careful not to touch anything and leave fingerprints, Liz tiptoed barefoot across the hardwood floor toward the dressing table. She stepped in a puddle, reached down to touch the wetness and held her fingers to her nose. The heavy floral scent made her eyes water.
The pink bottle of cologne lay on the floor where it had spilled. No way had Charlene left this mess. Not when she had a staff of servants to clean up after her.
Even if Charlene had gotten up early, she wouldn't have left her room this way. Liz suspected foul play; she needed to inform Ben immediately.
She stepped back into the hallway and entered Jerod's suite through the opened door. The sliding glass doors were open. Outside on the deck, she saw Jerod in his wheelchair with Ben and the nurse standing on either side of him. Ben wore a gray suit with a white shirt. His necktie was loosely knotted.
The moment she stepped outside, Jerod brightened. He held out a hand toward her. "Get your butt over here, sweetheart."
Liz obeyed. When she took his hand, he pulled her closer with surprising strength. As she leaned down, she saw him take a couple of sniffs ofthe perfume. He closed his eyes and grinned. "Honey, you smell like a whole damn bouquet of roses."
"I guess I do." Obviously, he thought she was Charlene. His vision must be worse than anyone knew.
"Give me a peck on the cheek and run along. My nurse has got to take my blood pressure before Doctor Al gets here."
Liz didn't want to embarrass him by pointing out his mistake. Instead, she lightly kissed his cheek.
He beamed. "Thank you, honey."
Ben hadn't realized that Jerod's eyesight was so bad. Confusing Liz with Charlene? He must be nearly blind.
As Liz dragged him out of his grandpa's room and into the hall, he said quietly, "Thanks for playing along. Jerod won't start his day until he sees Charlene."
"Or smells her," she said as she looked him up and down. "You're all dressed up."
"I have a meeting with my divorce lawyers this morning. Not something I'm looking forward to." He looked down at Liz. Herjeans and T-shirt showed off her fine little body. "I like what you're wearing."
"Great," she said dismissively. "What time did you leave the party last night?"
"About fifteen minutes after you. I was bored into a stupor."
"Was Charlene still there? Did you notice anything strange about her?"
"'She's always strange. What's this about?"
She pulled him into Charlene's room and closed the door. "Charlene might be missing. The bed doesn't look slept in. There are signs of a struggle."
He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to dispel the stink. "I've got to open a window."
"Don't touch anything. This could be a crime scene."
She illustrated her theory of a struggle by pointing out the position of the mirror, the messed-up bottles on the makeup table and the broken perfume bottle.
"Or," he said, "Charlene might be sacked out in someone else's bed."
"Does she sleep around?"
Ben thought for a moment. Though Charlene was an equal opportunity tease, he had no proof that she'd ever gone beyond a couple of kisses. "I don't think she's adulterous. But we both saw her playing Ramon against Tony last night."
"And her situation has changed."
He wasn't sure what she meant. "How so?"
"Jerod's will has changed. Charlene might behave differently."
Anger shot through him. If that gold digger planned to betray Jerod after conning him into leaving her his fortune, Ben would make sure she never saw a penny. He'd burn the damn house down before he let her inherit.
Liz said, "We should call the police."
"Not yet." His first concern was his grandpa. If Jerod found out that his beloved was messing around, it would break his heart. "First, we'll try to find her. I'll lock her bedroom door until we figure out where the hell she is."
Her eyebrows pinched in a scowl. "If we don't have an explanation in half an hour, we need to notify the sheriff. He'll want to talk to the witnesses before they leave."
"Witnesses?"
"'I don't see traces of blood in here, but the CSI's can use luminol and—"
"Luminol? You sound like a TV detective show."
Suddenly defensive, she took a step backwards. "I've taken criminal law courses at school. I know about chain of evidence."
"Well, let's not hang out the yellow crime-scene tape just yet. There could be a simple explanation."
"I hope so."
Though she had obviously just crawled out of bed with her blond hair sticking out in wild tufts, she radiated intensity. Her bare feet, snug jeans and sleeveless shirt were cuter than hell, but the muscles in her well-toned arms flexed as her fingers drew into fists. She was a time bomb set to explode. "What's going on with you?"
"It's nothing." Her smile was forced. "You're probably right. There's a simple explanation."
Liz hoped her suspicions were groundless, but her instincts told her otherwise. This classy, beautiful mountain estate seethed with an undercurrent of hostility, jealousy and greed. At the center of every skirmish was Charlene. She'd argued with Ben about Jerod's care, battled Patrice about the will and whipped Ramon into a frenzy of sexual possessiveness. Liz feared the trophy wife might have pushed someone too far.
Downstairs, she snagged a cup of coffee and explained to Rachel that she had a few things to take care of before she put on her maid uniform and got to work. After her late-night stint at bartending, it only seemed fair.
A quick survey of the houseguests showed that Ramon was missing. When she and Ben went to the parking area near the garage, they discovered that his car was gone. The most likely scenario: Charlene and Ramon had run off together.
Ben drained his coffee mug. "I guess that's it. The simple explanation."
"What about the struggle in her bedroom?"
"Passion." His jaw clenched. "Ramon and Charlene tussled in her bedroom before they headed out to find somewhere more private."
A plausible theory. But Liz wasn't completely convinced. Charlene might be a bimbo, but she wasn't a fool. She wouldn't do anything that might cause Jerod to change his mind about the will. "You have surveillance cameras at the front gate. Would the tape show Charlene and Ramon driving off together?"
"The cameras are on a twenty-four-hour loop. Not the most high-tech security available, but sufficient. We'll check."
As he marched up the asphalt driveway toward the gate, she had to jog to keep up. In contrast to his openness last night, anger had turned him cold. He'd do anything to protect his grandfather.
Inside the closet-sized security house beside the locked wrought-iron gates, Ben flipped open a metal locker door. Inside were an array of control switches and four small screens. He juggled a couple of switches.
"Pretty casual security system," she remarked. "Nothing is locked up."
"Mostly we use the cameras to monitor vehicles at the front gate. The visual image is transmitted to a couple of receivers in the house so we can see who we're buzzing inside."
"Not worried about burglary?"
"The only truly effective way to protect this much acreage requires dozens of cameras, sensors and monitors. Not to mention full-time security personnel. Never seemed worth the effort."
Typical. People seldom bothered with deadbolts, cameras and coded locks until after they'd experienced a break-in.
Ben pointed to the lower screen. "Here's the taping from last night." The time code on the lower right corner showed that at 9:32 p.m. Dr. Mancini drove to the gate, pressed the button to open it and left. In the passenger seat, she saw Tony Lansing, the lawyer.
The feed from two rotating cameras showed several hours of pastoral nighttime scenery. They fast-forwarded through sights of elk crossing the road and pine boughs tossing in the night winds. The view that encompassed the house showed a couple who had stepped outside for a smoke. Patrice and Monte came out to their vehicle and got something from the glove compartment. No one else entered or left.
In the tight space of the security shed, Liz leaned close to Ben's shoulder so she could see the screens. His suit coat still felt warm from the morning sun. Her hand lingered near the small of his back, but she hesitated to actually make physical contact. One touch might lead to another.
On the tapes, nothing happened until 11:47 p.m. when the screen went black.
Liz drew back. "A malfunction?"
He checked the controls. "It appears that the cameras were turned off."
"Can the controls be turned off from inside the house?"
"No," he said. "Only from here."
Her suspicions about foul play returned. Why else would the surveillance be deliberately manipulated? "If someone walked to the gates from the house or from the road outside, their approach would be seen on the surveillance cameras. Right?"
'There are blind spots," he said. "Especially along the fence line. And Charlene knew about them. She could have slipped away from the party and come out here."
The surveillance tape resumed at 2:37 a.m. Once again, the scene was peaceful.
"There." Liz pointed to the screen that showed the view of the house and the vehicles parked by the garage. "Ramon's car is already gone. If he left with Charlene, it wasn't caught on camera."
Ben shrugged. "Maybe we're making too much of this. Possibly, the cameras were down. Maybe some sort of electronic glitch."
"A very convenient lapse," she said. "We need to call the sheriff."
He turned and faced her. The walls of the tiny surveillance shed wrapped tightly around them. As she looked up into his eyes, her heartbeat accelerated. Too close. They were too close for her to ignore the attraction that sang through her veins.
He held her bare arms in a gentle grasp. "I need a favor, Liz. Don't say no until you've heard me out."
Unable to speak, she nodded.
"Jerod's health is my only concern. He loves Charlene. If she's run off with Ramon, my grandpa is the one who'll suffer."
"If he dies, she inherits." The words popped out before she had a chance to censor her thoughts. She hadn't meant to speak lightly of Jerod's death.
Ben winced. His grip on her arms tightened. "Until I have a chance to check out Ramon and see if Charlene is with him, I don't want to involve the police. Maybe I can find her. Talk sense into her."
"I can't—"
"'Please, Liz. Until I have this figured out, I need for you to remain silent."
She pulled free from his grasp. In this tiny space, she had nowhere to go. Even with her back against the opposite wall, his nearness confounded her.
He was asking her to betray her ethics, possibly to cover up a crime. As a private eye, she was duty-bound to report suspicions of wrongdoing to the authorities. As a law student, she knew her actions amounted to aiding and abetting.
Only two days ago, Harry Schooner had stuck her in a similar situation when he had refused to report the drug dealers. She'd waited until the next morning to contact a friend at the Denver PD and give him the location of the drug house.
Some decisions had to be based on the greater good. Protecting Jerod from unnecessary frustration and complication was important. She met Ben's intent gaze. "I'm not doing this for you. It's for Jerod."
The warmth of his smile was far more pleasing than it should have been. She hated herself for being so vulnerable.
"One more thing," he said. "Jerod needs to see Charlene again this morning. You could play that role. Tell him you're going into town and won't be back until later. Put his mind at ease."
*'You want me to dress up like Charlene and deliberately deceive your grandfather?" 'To save him pain." When he put it like that, how could she refuse?
Chapter Seven
Finally, she'd gotten into Ben's bedroom.
Ever since Liz had arrived at the Crawford estate, she'd been trying to sneak into his room and search for the illegal drugs she had seen him buy in Denver. She really hadn't expected him to be holding the door open and welcoming her across the threshold.
Together, they'd grabbed clothes and a wig from Charlene's room across the hall, but Liz had insisted on preserving the possible crime scene and had refused to change in Charlene's room.
Ben stood in the doorway. "Make sure you douse yourself in her perfume. That seems to be how Jerod recognizes her."
"Don't worry about me," she said. "Just keep Dr. Mancini and the nurse out of the room."
"No problem." He closed the door behind him.
She didn't have much time for a search. Not with Ben standing right outside. Every minute had to count. Tossing the platinum wig on the bed, she scanned the room. The style of the natural wood furniture was sleek, modern and somewhat bland—more like a hotel than a personal space. Apart from a few issues of Wooden Boat magazine on the bedside table, there was nothing of Ben. She reminded herself that this wasn't his primary residence; his real home was in Seattle.
Hiding drugs in the attached bathroom was too obvious so she concentrated on the bedroom, reaching into the backs of drawers and feeling behind furniture. Though she hated to mess up the bed, she slid her hand between the mattress and crawled underneath to check the box springs. So many hiding places, so little time.
As she dug through his closet, she threw on Charlene's tiny mini skirt and short-sleeved, pink cashmere sweater. Her instincts told her that this room was only the place where Ben slept. His drug stash was elsewhere.
After she settled the wig on her head, she stepped into the hallway where he waited. His eyebrows lifted at the sight of her, but he was smart enough not to tease. In a low voice, he said, "Charlene usually spends about fifteen minutes with Jerod."
"And what do they talk about?"
He shrugged. "The conversation is light. They laugh. He usually pats her bottom."
She looked over her shoulder. "I'm not built like Charlene. My butt might be okay, but if he reaches for my boobs, he'll know I'm a fake."
"You'll manage."
She didn't share his confidence. Undercover work usually involved being inconspicuous, but she would be trying to convince a man that she was his wife—someone he knew intimately. Her only advantage was that Jerod apparently saw her only as a vague outline.
With Ben keeping watch at the door so she wouldn't be disturbed, she entered Jerod's bedroom suite. He sat outside in his wheelchair on the deck. As she approached, she straightened her shoulders and put a bounce in her step. Since Charlene's shoes were a size too small, Liz remained barefoot.
She searched her auditory memory for the pitch of Charlene's voice, remembering a hint of Texas twang. Sidling up beside Jerod's chair, she used the pet name Charlene had spoken last night. "Howdy, bumblebee."
"Howdy yourself, honey." He turned his head toward her—his manner confident though unseeing. "Y'all have a good time last night?"
"Would have been better if you were there." Though Liz felt creepy about deceiving Jerod, she lightly laced her fingers with his and gave a squeeze. "What were we talking about yesterday?"
"Same as always. Family history. After I'm gone, you're fixing to be the head of the family. There's things you need to know." He frowned. "I sure as heck don't want you getting into more catfights with Patrice."
"But she's such a..." Liz searched for the right word. What would Charlene say? "Such a skinny witch."
"Go easy on her. She had a hard time after she lost her mama and papa in that damn car accident. That's when she told us not to call her Patty Sue any more. She was Patrice. Only fourteen years old and an orphan."
'That means Ben was.. .how old?"
"Sixteen. Sophomore in high school." J
erod leaned back in his wheelchair, giving up any pretense of looking at her. "He was as tall as he is right now. But scrawny as a wet barn cat. In the summers, the boy worked in the company oil business, and I'm proud to say he held his own with roughnecks who were twice his size."
"I'm confused." She fluttered her free hand in a gesture she'd seen Charlene use. "The oil business was in Texas, but Ben settled in Seattle."
"I explained this before, honey. Ain't you been paying attention?"
"You know me." She fluttered again. "Gosh, I get ever so distracted."
His gnarled and weathered hand, still holding hers, tightened. "Don't you go playing the dumb blonde with me. We both know better."
Interesting. Apparently, there was more to Charlene than met the eye. "I never could fool you."
"Pay attention now. You hear me?"
"No need to be a grouch." The words slipped out before Liz could censor herself. She was accustomed to dealing with grumpy old Harold, who would ride roughshod over her if she didn't stand up for herself.
"Huh? You think I'm grouchy?"
"Like a grizzly bear."
He chuckled. "That's my honey."
His posture relaxed as he bought into her performance. Apparently, Liz had more in common with Charlene than she'd thought. After they talked a bit more about the family and Charlene's new responsibilities as the matriarch, Liz wrapped up their conversation. "I should get moving, bumblebee. After our guests clear out, I'm going shopping."
"Whatever you want." When he patted her butt, he frowned. "You been working out?"
"A bit." Liz stepped out of reach.
"Don't go getting too skinny," he said. "Take care of yourself. Your voice sounds like you might be coming down with a cold."
She darted forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. "See you later."
As she stepped through the bedroom and met Ben, she pulled off the blond wig. Looking at his solid, muscular body, it was difficult to imagine him as a scrawny teenager working the oil fields. "I like your grandpa."
"He's a good man, but too damned stubborn for his own good." In his left hand, he held a cell phone. "I called Ramon but got no answer. I'll drive into town and pay him a visit."
