No, that didn’t make sense. At least not a scam perpetrated by Richard. He’d never have gotten his own safe involved, and he’d be calling the police himself, so he could get the theft documented quickly.
“Then we start retracing everybody’s steps from last night,” she said, echoing Calla’s earlier suggestion. “We find out who was unaccounted for and when.”
“You really think it was one of us?”
“Do you think the house and the safe’s security were both compromised?”
Richard’s face paled. “Good point.” He brushed his lips across her cheek. “Brilliant as always. I’ll leave this to you.”
He immediately laid out his plans to go ahead with the day, assuring everyone the necklace had most likely been misplaced and would no doubt turn up by the afternoon.
Within minutes, the nervous guests had changed into bathing suits and were heading out the kitchen door toward the dock.
Jared spared Victoria no more than a passing glance as he walked beside Emily Standish, promising her she’d be a natural on skis.
Victoria assumed a stiff wind would blow tiny Emily off the boat before she ever dived in the water. But she would be enjoying the sight of Jared’s bare chest all day, so Emily was sure to have more fun than Victoria, regardless of how the wind blew.
She was aware that she was choosing Richard over Jared, and that Jared would certainly see things that way. The loss disturbed her more than she’d expected. But the cowboy adventurer, desirable as he might be, was a weekend fling at best. Richard was the key to her dreams coming true.
“I’m going to need your help to perform a search of the house,” Victoria said in a quiet voice to the housekeeper as they stood next to the kitchen island.
Mrs. Keegan, who’d apparently seen stranger things going on in the Rutherford household, appeared unsurprised at being drafted into service. “Let me finish tidying the dining room, and I’ll be right with you.”
Shelby closed the door behind the group of guests, then turned to face Victoria, her expression incredulous. “He’s not calling the police?”
“No.”
“And you think this is going to get you the PR contract?”
“Yes.”
“How are you going to move into your fancy new corner office from jail?”
“I’m not going to jail.”
“What about me, Calla, your gorgeous cowboy? Don’t you think we’d rather hang on to our freedom? You’re willing to risk us all?”
“Nobody’s going to jail.”
“Uh-huh.” Shelby went toward the pantry, returning with bags of sugar and flour. “So you’re paying for my attorney when the cops aren’t quite so easygoing?”
“I seem to recall risking my neck recently for a certain friend.” Victoria tapped her finger against her lips. “Who was that, I wonder?”
“That was entirely different. My parents were on the brink of bankruptcy, and we did report the crime to the police. Plus, we were trying to catch a criminal, not commit crimes ourselves.”
“Oh? Maybe you don’t recall the break-in at a certain downtown office building?”
Shelby’s face turned as red as her hair. “That was different. I was—”
“Fighting for truth, justice and the American way. I remember the speech.”
“You won’t get everybody to agree to this.”
“Oh, please. I already have. You and Calla are loyal to me, and everybody else will do what Richard says.”
“Including Jared and Mrs. Keegan?”
“Naturally. They work for the Rutherfords. They won’t risk their jobs.”
“What about Sal and David?”
Victoria waved her hand. “Sal’s crazy about Rose. David works for him. All one happy—”
“Dysfunctional,” Shelby interjected.
“—family,” Victoria finished.
“What about the Standishes?” Shelby asked peevishly. “Maybe Peter’s not willing to go to jail for a contract.”
“Nobody’s going to jail,” Victoria repeated, her tone firm. After all, she needed to convince herself as well as her friend. “We don’t even know a crime’s been committed. Rose probably stuck it in a drawer by accident.”
“I can’t imagine anybody forgetting where they put a necklace that elaborate and valuable. She seemed pretty certain she’d locked it away.” Shelby’s gaze met Victoria’s. “In that state-of-the-art, foolproof safe you’re going to try to convince people to buy.”
“Which no one will purchase if they think it doesn’t work.”
“If it doesn’t work, Richard shouldn’t be selling it.”
Embarrassed by Shelby’s honesty, Victoria sagged against the counter. “Okay, so there are a few…bugs to work out. Richard admitted so. But he won’t have a chance to work on them if his product’s reputation is ruined before it ever gets launched.”
Shelby dumped measured ingredients in a bowl. “Rationalizing the moral compromise. I’ve been there.”
“The spirit of the law,” Victoria argued back.
“How does not reporting a crime fall anywhere within the law?”
“When losing this contract might cause an even bigger crime to occur.”
“Bigger how?”
“I’m going to strangle Peter Standish with my bare hands if he tells Richard how brilliant he is one more time.”
Shelby pulled a lump of dough from the bowl and kneaded. “I see your point.”
But was her success worth this pact she’d made with Richard? Was Victoria crossing some ethical line she could never retreat from? Had she already flown to the other side, and wasn’t even aware of booking a ticket?
“Am I crazy, Shel?” she murmured.
“A bit. But aren’t we all when it comes to getting what we want?”
“You were a little nuts about Trevor, as I recall.”
Shelby’s smile held a world of pleasurable memories. “Not was. Still am.”
I should want that.
Victoria blinked as the idea slid into her mind. Why hadn’t she ever wanted a man to share secrets with? The same man, day after day, night after night. A man she was devoted to, instead of a job or a contract or an office.
Yet the cold formality of her parents always held her back. She’d rather be alone than have that kind of relationship. So she deliberately dated “rich jocks” as Calla liked to call them. That realization was sobering, as well.
“I bet Sal Columbo had something to do with the theft,” Shelby said, breaking into Victoria’s thoughts. “His eyes were shifty. He could be an international jewel thief, dating Rose to get his hands on that necklace. He was the one who brought up the story about it, if you remember.”
Victoria cocked her head. “Did you have a spy novel for breakfast? I think he’s perfectly nice. And we haven’t determined anything’s been stolen yet.”
“Right.” Shelby’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “That multimillion-dollar necklace is in the laundry hamper.”
* * *
THE NECKLACE WASN’T IN THE hamper or any other place Rose could have accidentally dropped it.
Victoria and Mrs. Keegan searched every inch of the woman’s bedroom, plus retraced her steps around the house from dinner to bedtime. They both recalled that Rose hadn’t been wearing the necklace during the boat ride, so there was no worry that it had been lost at sea or outside the house.
Had she locked the necklace in the safe right after din
ner, or had she waited until before turning in for the night?
That was the first question to ask when Victoria spoke to her.
And was she really going to question everyone? How was she qualified for interrogation?
Harvard Business School had never prepared her for days like this.
“I didn’t take it!” Mrs. Keegan exclaimed.
Victoria focused on the distraught housekeeper. “I never said you did.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “But everybody’s thinking so. I thought Mrs. Rutherford trusted me.” She sniffled. “Both of them.”
“I’m sure they trust you.” Awkwardly, Victoria patted the other woman’s shoulder. She was useless around crying women. “Let’s go downstairs and see if Shelby needs any help with lunch.”
Her friend would know how to comfort the housekeeper.
“Any luck?” Shelby asked as soon as they walked into the kitchen.
Victoria shook her head.
True to her prediction, Shelby noticed the housekeeper’s tears and rushed over to pull her into a hug. Patting the older woman’s back, she assured her that no one with any sense would think she was guilty of the theft.
Keeping her opinion to herself, Victoria decided that the only people she was taking off the suspect list were herself, Shelby and Calla. Everybody else was subject to scrutiny.
After sending Mrs. Keegan to her room to splash some water on her face and repair her makeup, Shelby poured Victoria a glass of lemonade.
“Do you suspect Jared?”
Anybody with integrity. Jared’s words from earlier reverberated through her head, making any accusation against him seem silly. “I should,” she said, frustrated by the idea that she was probably thinking with her libido and not her head. “I know less about him than anybody.”
“Except Sal Columbo.”
“And the designer-suited assistant, David Greggory. He looks more like a potential jewel thief.”
“You can’t be serious about David. His shoes are too shiny.”
Sometimes her buddy’s logic—or lack thereof—was totally lost on her. “Too shiny?”
“Trevor has the same ones, and they require an exacting touch to polish. Seriously, the man can spend hours at it.”
First, Victoria would have thought a guy with Trevor’s sizable bank account would have had some lackey polish his shoes. And second…well, second really rolled right into third, fourth and fifth reasons that she could name why footwear couldn’t possibly have anything to do with one’s tendency toward thievery. “Seems to me an exacting touch is exactly what was used to get into the safe.”
“Fair point.”
Victoria sipped her lemonade. “You honestly think that sweet old man is a thief?”
“Who knows what anybody’s capable of, given the right motivation?”
No argument there. “Did Sal spend the night in Rose’s bedroom?”
“No idea. But I suspect there’s going to be a very uncomfortable conversation with the lady of the house later.”
Victoria tried not to wince. Even if she did find the necklace, she was dearly afraid that, in the process, she’d find out more about the Rutherford family than she ever wished to know.
“So we eliminate nobody at this point?” her friend asked.
“Us.” Victoria paused. “And Jared.”
Shelby nodded in agreement before heading to the pantry, then returning with tomatoes. “How are you going to find out who did it?”
She had a couple of ideas, and there was no reason she couldn’t put them to the test while wearing her new bikini and ogling the strong and sexy Jared. Thanks to a dedication to Pilates and spin class, she looked pretty good in a bathing suit, so—
Hang on. She pinned Shelby in place with her glare. “How am I going to find out? What about one for all and all for one?”
“That’s the Three Musketeers, not Robin Hood, but the gang’s all here, so I guess we’re going to find out.”
“We’re not a gang,” Victoria reminded her.
“Yeah, yeah.” Shelby positioned a tomato on the cutting board and began slicing. “I’m breaking the law—again, I might add—for a loved one.”
“Who says we’re breaking the law?”
“Isn’t there something about aiding and abetting?”
Victoria shook her head. “That only applies if you drive the getaway car for a bank robber.”
“You’re assuming.” Shelby dumped the tomatoes in a bowl, then headed to the fridge. “We should call Detective Antonio. We need advice.”
“He’s more likely to arrest us.”
“Nah. He has a thing for Calla.”
Though Victoria had seen the cop’s avid interest firsthand, he never seemed to do anything about it, even when Calla flirted with him. Something was seriously wrong with that guy.
Sure, V, judge everybody else. You’re currently selling your conscience for a promotion.
“We’re not calling the cops,” Victoria said firmly. “We’re going to—”
“Damn, damn, damn.” Shelby, standing at the open freezer, slammed her hand against the stainless-steel handle.
Victoria rushed to her side. “What? You found the necklace?”
“No. When I was getting out the herbs for the gazpacho, I noticed my veal was missing. Somebody’s put it in the freezer. Hell, even if it defrosts in time, I can’t serve lamb that’s been frozen.”
Personally, Victoria ate frozen, then microwaved dinners all the time at her desk, but felt got a measure of Shelby’s panic. This was an important weekend for her catering business’s reputation. Only the best would do.
“I’ll have to go into the village.” Shelby wiped her hands on her chef’s apron. “Maybe Mrs. K can finish making lunch.”
Victoria caught her arm. “I’ll go into the village. You keep working on lunch.”
“What about the interrogation?”
“I’d rather save it for lunchtime. I can hardly ask personal questions while I’m hanging on for dear life on the back of a Jet Ski.”
“If you’re sure…”
The back door swung open and David stumbled into the kitchen. “Save me, please.” Wide-eyed and seeming exhausted, the venerable assistant collapsed into a chair at the table. “That man is crazy.”
“Jared?” Victoria ventured.
David nodded. “I don’t really like water, loud engines or anything that moves fast. I had a bad experience at summer camp as a kid. But he convinced me to go out with him on the Jet Ski by telling me it was more secure than regular skis.”
“Surely you went slowly,” Shelby said, handing him a glass of lemonade.
Nodding in thanks, he gulped the drink. “Not slowly enough. I threw up as we rolled over the first wave.”
Shelby cringed. “Oh, dear.”
Victoria took pity on him, given his flushed face and agitated expression, but could also hear her mother whispering advice. Vulnerable people are agreeable. Then Jared. Anybody with integrity… Be sure you don’t follow him down that road.
She’d agreed to help Richard. She needed that promotion.
Interrogation, or Jared in a swimsuit? Victoria struggled longer than she would have a few days ago.
Hell.
As always, her career won.
“How about a trip into the village?” she suggested to David, with what she hoped was a comforting smile.
* * *
DRIVING
INTO TOWN WITH DAVID in the passenger’s seat, Victoria knew what she had to do, and was surprised by the guilt she couldn’t shake. “You said you went to camp as a kid. Where’d you grow up?”
He ran his hand over the Mercedes’s black leather seat with a touch bordering on loving. “Brooklyn.”
“No kidding?” Victoria glanced at him. “I’m a city kid, too.”
“Manhattan, I’ll bet.”
“Yeah.” After another glimpse at his stony face, she added, “My parents are well-off.”
“Mine weren’t. My mom worked hard, but never really got anywhere much. ’Course, I don’t know about my dad.” His breathing hitched.
Terrific. Some interrogator she was. She’d been at it five minutes and had already asked a question that upset her interrogee. Maybe this was harder than it looked on TV. “No kidding?” she said neutrally, hoping to prod him to give more information.
Ambition really had no shame.
“He left when I was three,” David continued. “I guess I didn’t measure up. Of course I—” He stopped, his hand moving to the window button. “I need air.”
“Sure you do.” Remorse washed over her. “Breathe deep. You’ll be fine.”
David wheezed.
She’d honestly considered him a suspect. But he had even more family issues than she did, plus he didn’t have much in the way of chutzpah. If anything, this theft required guts.
She let him recover as she drove along the coast and into the village of Southampton. Quaint shops and cozy boutiques lined the streets, and Victoria knew from experience that the service within was exemplary and the selection of products both high quality and expensive.
She found the butcher with ease, thanks to Mrs. K’s precise directions, and the veal was wrapped and ready. On her way out of the shop, she spotted a familiar name, printed in scripted letters on a building across the street.
“Colombo Jewelers,” she murmured. “Sal’s?” she asked David, who leaned against the car, dabbing his face with a handkerchief.
“Yes, though his sons run the business now. He also has a few branches in the city. Would you like a tour?”
Breathless on the Beach Page 9
