“What about conspiracy, accessory after the fact?”
“I’m not telling anybody I’m putting it on her dresser.”
“But—” Calla jogged up the stairs beside her “—you’re going to let a thief get away?”
“If it helps me get my contract, yes.” Though she certainly wasn’t looking forward to invading her fellow housemates’ privacy. The thought of putting her hand in the vicinity of Peter’s underwear made her want to gag. Fortunately, Shelby had brought along a healthy supply of disposable rubber gloves—a requirement for every public food service kitchen.
Calla ran around Victoria, stopping her progress. “You’re serious.”
“Aren’t I always?” Seeing her friend’s horrified expression, she sighed. Meting out her brand of justice was a heavy burden. Had Robin Hood felt so tormented? “What purpose would it serve by sending this thief to jail?”
“He or she won’t steal anything else.”
“What if it’s Rose?”
Calla looked indecisive. “Uh, well…”
“Or Mrs. Keegan, stealing the necklace because the proceeds will save her son from having his legs broken by the bookies he owes?”
Calla’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You’re not going to search her room, too?”
“Yes, I am.” Though only for appearances’ sake. Victoria continued up the stairs. “This ridiculousness has gone on long enough. Time for results. I want Richard’s contract. I want my promotion. Not to mention I have access to a hot guy who wants to be with me all night long.”
At the top of the stairs, Calla planted herself in front of Victoria yet again. “Weren’t you with him last night?”
“Yes, which is why I want to be with him again. Get out of my way.”
“Fine,” Calla said grudgingly, falling into step beside her. “Let’s start in Sal’s room. I’m beginning to think Shelby’s right. He could be a thief.”
She had to confess it was an intriguing possibility, but Victoria was hoping for Peter. Talk about wrapping everything up with a neat little bow…
Part of her recognized she was in an annoyed frenzy and not making the most rational decisions. But the rest of her was tired of the pretense. Somebody in the house had that necklace. This wasn’t international terrorism or an elaborate crime syndicate. This was simple. And she was out of patience.
Especially for a task that was going beyond, over, under, up and into outer space, given normal professional expectations.
She didn’t like the prolonged deceit. In fact, she’d have been great as one of those cops who interrogated people under white-hot lights, like in the old movies. In that smokin’ red dress—amid everybody else in black and white—she’d have this case solved in fifteen minutes.
Remembering her costume, she pressed her hand to her stomach. Carrots and celery were going to have to be on the lunch menu.
“You’re sure this is the only way?” Calla asked.
She loved her friend truly, but Victoria had to do everything she could to end this mess as soon as possible.
“Pretty sure,” she said, focused on the diagram she’d drawn from the computer blueprint program that showed all the rooms that had been assigned for the weekend.
“Pretty sure isn’t too—”
“Sarcasm, blondie. Get ahold of yourself. In fact, why don’t you go take pictures of something?”
Calla lifted the camera clutched in her hand. “I am. I’m recording this entire search process. What if somebody sues you?”
Well, damn. Outside Peter and Emily’s door, Victoria halted. Growing up in the Holmes house with a corporate attorney, she’d learned that sue was a swear word.
Eyes narrowed, she turned slowly to Calla. “The only way they could sue would be if there was a witness.”
Her friend took a step back. “I don’t like the look in your eyes right now.”
“Have I not effectively communicated how far down the end of my rope I’m currently hanging?”
Calla nodded. “The contract, corner office and great sex with hot guy.”
Victoria smiled fiercely. “Exactly.”
“Fine. No video.” Calla made a show of setting the camera on the floor in the hall. “Like the whereabouts of Sherwood Forest, your secret is safe with me, my lady.”
* * *
UNFORTUNATELY, EVEN WITH Calla’s keen eye, the search proved useless—though Victoria did learn mousy Emily had a fondness for garish purple lingerie. A fact she could have gone a lifetime without knowing.
After all the guest rooms and other bedrooms were examined, Victoria told Calla about the secret place concealed in Richard’s office.
As seemed to be the way their luck was going, they found their host’s office locked. What? He didn’t trust his houseguests?
They even mustered the nerve to ask Mrs. K for a key, which she didn’t have. Undeterred, they attempted to pick the lock, without success. If only one of them had been the thief…
Around two, she and Calla wound up in the kitchen, looking for the lunch they’d missed. In the fridge, they found at least twenty pounds of ribs and steaks marinating, presumably for tomorrow’s Labor Day barbecue.
“Who’s coming to this party?” Victoria wondered aloud. “The Yankees and the Knicks?”
“Did you get a look at that dress Rose picked out for you?” Calla asked from behind her. “You can’t eat any of this stuff.”
Victoria turned and met her friend’s gaze. “Thanks, buddy.”
“I’m just sayin’.” Calla straightened. “That’s all for tomorrow, anyway. After this costume party, you can have whatever you want, I guess.”
“What I want is that necklace.”
“And Jared McKenna.”
“Him, too. Oh, look, tuna salad.” Victoria removed the plastic dish and slammed it on the kitchen counter.
“You’re awfully cranky for a woman whose nights are filled with great sex.”
“Night. Singular.”
Calla pulled her cell phone from her jeans, checked the screen and sighed as she returned it to her pocket. “One night would suit me.”
Victoria ate tuna salad—low-fat mayonnaise—at the kitchen table, while Calla tortured her by relishing leftover veal medallions from last night’s dinner.
Licking her fingers, Calla handed Victoria a napkin and took another for herself. “What are you going to wear under that dress tonight?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot.” Victoria shoved back her chair. “I think I’ll lie by the pool. Wanna come?”
Calla grinned. “Nope. You’ll try to drown me.”
“How could you possibly know that? I’m the queen of deception.”
Rising, her friend patted her cheek. “But I’ve known you too long to be fooled. Let’s head out in the dinghy and join everybody else on the yacht.”
“That’s a better idea than any I’ve had all day.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. The grand search is a time-honored tradition in all detective fiction.”
“But if it’s not anywhere in Rose’s room, and not in any of the guestrooms, where—”
“Ooh!” Calla whirled from the table. “Maybe the thief has the necklace with him or her, stuffed down in the bottom of a beach bag.”
“That seems risky.”
“Swiping the necklace already takes care of that.”
“Good point.” Honestly, Victoria still had no idea what might have happened
to Rose’s necklace, who might have taken it, if anybody, and why. The necklace, supposedly cursed by jealousy, was certainly valuable. Not easily pawned, and too recognizable to be worn once the police sank their investigative teeth into this whole messy business.
Her contract was a myth. Shelby wouldn’t get any more Southampton bookings after the Rutherfords told the story of the botched search and the tattling to the law. Detective Antonio would resent them forever, which would make Calla miserable.
Where was a band of merry men when you needed them?
Maybe Jared was having better luck.
As the two friends prepared to leave the house, Calla’s cell phone rang. “Hi, Devin,” she said brightly, after a glance at the screen. “I’m going to put you on speakerphone. Victoria’s with me.”
“Did you kill anybody yet?” was his first, dry question.
“No,” Calla returned. “But Victoria did get a great costume for tonight’s big party. You wanna come out and join us?”
“Costume party?” the detective asked.
“Rose’s idea of Labor Day fun apparently has a lot in common with Halloween,” she explained. “We have plenty of outfits to pick from. I’m sure we can find one for you.”
“I’ll pass,” Antonio said.
“Wise choice,” Victoria commented. “Everything’s fine out here.”
“No, it’s not,” Calla argued. “We can’t find the necklace anywhere.”
Victoria jabbed her elbow in her friend’s side and frantically shook her head.
“What necklace?” the detective predictably asked.
“Some old thing of Rose’s that she’s misplaced,” Victoria explained quickly, before Calla could blow their secrecy completely. “Nothing to worry about. Did you find out any interesting financial details about the guests?”
Thankfully, Antonio either decided Calla had misspoken or simply didn’t care about the necklace. “Like I figured, that palace you’re staying in is loaded with rich people. No money motive there. Strike David the PA for that reason, too. He’s paid well, but lives modestly. Only ones I can see who might be in a financial pinch are Marion Keegan and the Standish couple.”
“We know about Mrs. Keegan’s son and his gambling problem,” Victoria interjected. “What about the Standishes?”
“They bought a condo in the city last year and can barely make the payments. They also spend a small fortune at a gourmet market on East Fourteenth Street.”
“Ha! See, I told you.” Heart soaring, Victoria longed to dance around the room, wondering how quickly she could search Peter and Emily’s room again. That necklace had to be in there. “This is perfect.”
Calla looked crestfallen. “You’re sure the Rutherford family is wealthy?”
“As King Midas,” Antonio answered.
“And what about Sal Colombo’s jewelry business?” she asked. “He’s in debt up to his eyeballs, isn’t he? Perfect excuse to turn to thievery.”
“Sorry, Agent Ness,” the detective quipped, as Victoria longed to remind her pal that Shelby was the one who’d come up with the Shifty-Eyed Sal theory. “His chain of stores netted him tons of dough over the years. And there’s McKenna, too.”
Victoria stared at the phone. “Jared? He works for an adventure tour company, not a jewelry store.”
“Yeah, I got that, though he owns the tour company. Pretty profitable, actually. Who knew? But his real fortune comes from ranching, jointly held by him, his parents and his brother.”
“Real fortune?” Victoria echoed, as her heartbeat picked up speed.
Antonio named a figure that had her eyes popping wide. A figure that would get even her parents’ attention.
“That’s not possible,” Victoria said slowly, as Calla grabbed her hand.
“Problem?” the detective asked.
“No,” Calla said, for which Victoria was grateful, since she seemed incapable of opening her mouth. “Thanks so much for your help. And remember you’re invited to the barbecue tomorrow if you want to come.”
“I’ll see if I can clear my calendar.”
Calla ended the call, then immediately pulled Victoria into her embrace. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Victoria’s throat had closed, preventing her from speaking. A thief and a liar, and she’d been fooled by both.
13
JARED DOUBLE-CHECKED THE ROPE securing the boat to the dock, then headed directly toward the pool deck. He moved quickly, wondering, as he had for the last several hours, why Victoria hadn’t shown up for the afternoon water sports.
Shelby had used her cell phone to call Calla, who’d said she’d decided to take pictures instead of coming out, and that Victoria wanted to lie by the pool. Since Victoria didn’t sunbathe, he could only conclude she’d chosen solitude over being with him.
Maybe she was tired. They hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.
And yet he couldn’t imagine simple exhaustion had kept her from chatting up Richard. Peter had certainly taken advantage of her absence.
His pulse hammering unreasonably hard, he stalked up the pathway, resisting the urge to break into a run when he saw her long, slender body barely covered by a purple bikini as she stretched out on one of the shaded loungers.
“Hi,” he said, perching on the edge of the chair. “We missed you this afternoon.”
“I needed some time alone,” she said.
With her sunglasses hiding her eyes, he couldn’t gauge her mood. He gave her a weak smile. “I could have used your help keeping Peter from boring everybody with his story about catching a shark while deep-sea fishing last year.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I guess you didn’t find the necklace in your search.”
“No.”
Something was clearly off with her. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “I did pretty good with Sal.” He recounted his conversation with the former jewelry store owner. “So that’s Rose and Sal off the suspect list.”
“How do you figure?”
“They wouldn’t hurt each other that way. That necklace is a symbol of their love.”
“A necklace that literally caused a murder? How romantic.”
That’s it. He was done tiptoeing around her mood. “What’s with you?”
“I guess I’m a bit more skeptical than you,” she said, shoving her sunglasses to the top of her head, enabling him to see the fury in her eyes. “Maybe Sal bought that necklace to buy Rose’s love. Maybe he stole it. Maybe he wrapped it up with a pretty bow, but when Rose didn’t return his feelings, he decided to take it back. Maybe he lied.”
The frigid, angry woman before him was a stranger. “Sal didn’t steal the necklace,” Jared stated.
She rose, thrusting her arms into the sleeves of a robe that had been lying over the back of her chair. “I think you’re partly right. We can eliminate them—at least if the motive was money. Both of them are, in fact, very wealthy.”
“I could have told you that.”
“Yes, I bet you could. Since your bank account is ranked right up there with theirs. Apartment in the city, huh?”
Dread crawled through Jared’s body. Victoria’s coldness, her distance, her absence that afternoon…it all finally made sense. She knows. “How’d you find out?”
“A police detective friend of Calla’s agreed to do a financial background check on everybody here.”
“When did you call the police?”
“Yesterda
y. I’m not a fool, Jared. I knew we needed help. I tried to do it discreetly.”
“And you asked the cops to check on me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare try to turn this back on me. I never suspected you. Calla asked him to verify everybody’s status.”
He reached for her hand. “Let me explain.”
She jerked away. “You’ve got a lot of damn nerve, warning me off about Richard, harping about his lack of trustworthiness, even implying I was compromising my ethics for questioning Mrs. K.”
“That’s not why I…” He stopped, at a loss on how to explain why he’d lied, especially since the reason now seemed ill-advised at best and selfishly pompous at worst. “It wasn’t like that.”
“You were the one I shouldn’t have trusted,” she practically spat.
“Victoria, don’t go. I—”
Love you, he realized with a jolt as she stormed away.
He loved her.
* * *
HER FINGERS WRAPPED AROUND HER mascara wand, Victoria’s hand jerked as someone knocked on her door.
Cursing quietly at the black streak marring her cheek, she called, “Come in!”
She dearly hoped it was Shelby with an emergency martini delivery.
It was Richard, already trussed up in his costume and looking like a constipated banker.
As he stood in the doorway between the bedroom and the den area, she resisted the urge to scream. “Sorry to barge in,” he said, “but I’d like to talk to you privately for a minute.”
After making sure the tie on her robe was secure, she waved her hand toward the outer room and went to sit beside him on the sofa. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve become frustrated with your lack of progress on finding my mother’s necklace.”
Of course you have. “Me, too.”
“Perhaps I should have put Peter in charge.”
Victoria ground her teeth and said nothing.
“But then he hasn’t been eliminated from the suspect list as far as I’m concerned,” Richard went on. “Let’s face it, he might be a brilliant public relations man but he doesn’t have your pedigree.”
Breathless on the Beach Page 17
