by Danger Cove
My guess was there weren't too many labels Allyson wouldn't look good in, but she was sharing important details. I'd save the compliments for later. "That's a sweet deal. I guess that's why Rico must've thought you had cash flow. Designer labels, even the less recognizable ones, come with a nice price tag." If it turned out she wasn't the blackmailer, maybe I'd allocate some of my inheritance to updating my closet with clothes from…"What's the name of the designer? You know…just in case I'm in the area." Or on the website.
Allyson lifted her head and turned to look at me, a small smile on her face. "VV, which stands for Vivian Victor. She does some vintage pieces that I think you'd like. Remind me tomorrow, and I'll give you her card."
"That's great, thank you. But back on topic. So Rico asked for ten grand—you didn't have it. Did you try to borrow the money, either from the bank or a family member?" I was thinking Aunt Vivian could've parted with the cash easily to keep her niece out of the tabloids. Then again, maybe her designs on the front page of even a sketchy magazine would be good for business? That might be one of those too-high-on-the-power-ladder ploys for publicity for me to understand.
"I thought about it briefly, but decided I'd created the mess, and no one should clean it up but me."
She was still hanging around on my suspect list, but I had to admit my respect for the woman had climbed a rung or two since our conversation had started. "You told Jonathan yourself and removed the threat of blackmail."
"Yes, I did. Of course, some of the women who were waiting in the wings for a chance to attach themselves to him and his status found out."
"And they shared the story with the tabloids. No one knew it was Rico though. You didn't tell Jonathan who it was…only that there was someone else."
"Right. Who I'd had the affair with wasn't important, especially because I didn't love him and certainly didn't want to be with him anymore after the blackmail threat. The only thing Jonathan needed to know was that I had an affair."
"That took guts and class."
Allyson smiled. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it. Thanks for seeing the best in me. Not too many people have, especially after the tabloids were through."
"But Jonathan and you are back together. He obviously saw the good in you too."
The smile faded. "Something like that." She stood. "It's getting late. I should be turning in. Big day tomorrow. Good night, Lilly."
I stood to follow her. Why did I feel like I'd taken two steps forward and three and a half steps back on the information trail? "Allyson, wait."
She stopped but didn't turn around. "I'm really tired. No more talking tonight, okay?"
It wasn't okay. I suppose I could've followed her into the house, but there didn't seem to be any point. She'd been forthcoming with so many details. But then when I brought up a detail she'd mentioned earlier—she and Jonathan being back together—something changed. It didn't make any sense.
"Everything okay?" Tanner's deep, soft voice filtered in from the corner of the house.
I turned toward him and crossed my arms, but my smile softened the effect, even if he couldn't see me clearly. "Exactly how long have you been spying on me, Mr. Montgomery?"
He took the steps necessary to join me and guided us to the glider. His arm went around my shoulders, and I didn't resist. Who knew how many more moments like this we might have. "I've been hanging around the corner for the last ten or fifteen minutes. I didn't want to interrupt, but wanted to make sure you were okay."
"You wanted to make sure I was only speaking with Allyson," I teased.
A chuckle reverberated through his muscular chest. "Maybe that too."
It would've been the most natural thing in the world right then to tell him I was slipping into love with him, but lifelong habits weren't easily undone. Also, I didn't want him to feel like I was saying it to unduly influence his decision on whether or not to take the job in Chicago. "Since you heard everything, why do you think she clammed up at the end? I only reiterated what she'd shared in the beginning. Thought that was Interrogation 101—start with where you agree."
Tanner laughed and pulled me closer. "I think that's Negotiation 101."
"Oh…well, it sounded good."
"I was thinking about it while you two were talking," Tan started.
My head was nestled against his shoulder, allowing the calm pitch of his voice to soothe my confused nerves. "And? Any big revelations I should know about?"
"She kept referring to his status being higher than hers. The pressure to keep his status had him focus on things other than her. He had the status. She didn't."
He was right. That was a common theme throughout her story. "But nothing changed. He's still the chef at the top of his game. He's opening a new restaurant, seeking investors, and taking things to the next level. I'll add that includes trying to poach my chef."
Tanner laughed. "I like how you refer to her as yours. You're taking managing the tavern and the responsibility Hope gave you very seriously. It kind of turns me on."
I twisted in his embrace and gave him a quick kiss. "Like it takes much to turn you on."
"No argument there. And you're right. Nothing changed as far as we know in the dynamic between Allyson and Jonathan, but what if it had?"
Something Mandi had said earlier marched itself to the forefront of my brain. "Like what if Chef Jonathan had lost his ability to taste?"
We glided back and forth a few times—at least four wave crashes—before Tan spoke. "That would explain the less-than-perfect food."
I sat up straight, information initiating a rapid-fire, high-powered weapon in the synapses of my brain. "He must have somehow found out about Agnes's big lottery win, so he came here looking for a big investor."
Tan nodded. "If he looked up Agnes on the internet, he probably found out about you, as you were mentioned in the same article with her."
"Right. He might also have assumed that we were outside of the circle of influence of the five-star restaurants in the big cities. Even if we'd heard of him, chances are we wouldn't know all the details about him. If it hadn't been for Tara telling me about him and the Haute Cuisine magazine, I wouldn't have even known he existed."
"Allyson mentioned there were always people waiting in the wings, acting on any information they might be privy to. What if someone close to him, a sous chef maybe, realized what was happening? Sounds like a good way to move up another rung on the power ladder and become head chef." Tanner's voice had grown animated as he put possible pieces together.
We could both be way off base, but just playing in the same field was fun.
"Jonathan decides to be proactive, and opportunity presented itself when he learned of the millions just waiting here for him in Danger Cove."
"Don't forget to add that Allyson has to know his secret. She ate his food the other night. No way could she have done so and not realized he'd lost his golden touch."
Tanner pulled me close, his lips a breath away. "Equals a shift in the relationship."
My lips tingled from his closeness, making it hard to say anything further. When the man was right, he was right. Being right, in this moment, deserved a reward. "Who should take the power here and initiate this kiss?"
His fingers slid up my cheek and into my hair. "As long as you kiss me, I don't care."
We both moved at the same time. Equal power. I liked that. My eyes closed at the touch of his lips against mine.
"If you two need a room, I'll have to charge you a fifty-dollar deposit. Cash or credit."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After Bree managed to ruin a memorable Hallmark moment in the making, Tanner and I excused ourselves. I could hear her laughter following us as we made our way around the house. I was sure I'd hear more from her on the matter later. For now, I was excited that we at least might have gained a little deeper understanding of Jonathan and his motive for coming to Danger Cove.
Did he have motives for other events that had taken place since his arr
ival? That was still to be determined. Despite Tan driving like a ninety-year-old man on the way home, we still pulled into the lot at Hazlitt Heights entirely too fast. I slid across the seat and snuggled in for a few more minutes of quality time, despite the late hour.
"You want me to come up and brainstorm some more with you?" Tanner's words were muffled due to his mouth being buried in my tangled hair.
All my girly parts screamed a silent Yes! But they weren't fooling me at all. Their reasons for wanting him to come up had nothing to do with our brains, at least not directly. They had a valid argument though. Tan could be leaving. Shouldn't we—what was the expression? Leave it all on the field. Donna Do-Good, the name I'd given to my responsible angel, reminded me that inviting Tan up for anything more than the aforementioned brainstorming could unfairly influence his decision about the Chicago job. I didn't want to be that girl. Keep the power even—that was the goal.
Instead, I kissed him with purpose, intent on conveying what words were inadequate for at this crossroads in our relationship. "We should get some rest. Tomorrow is a long day, and we both need to be sharp. Thank you for—well, everything tonight."
His fingers slid from my cheek, the light touch and his smile warming my already heated heart. "We get through tomorrow and then we talk about us and the future."
I opened my mouth to say that we'd already outlined our positions. The decision rested with him. Of course, that meant I was totally ignoring decisions I had to make. Double standard alive and well. Before I could give lip to my litany, his index finger pressed against my mouth, rendering me silent.
"Good night, Lilly. Sweet and sexy dreams."
The last part was added with one of his saucy smiles, making me reevaluate if I should give Ms. Do-Good the night off. One quick kiss later, I replied, "Good night, Tanner."
My bedtime routine took longer than normal as my brain was preoccupied from all I'd learned in the past twelve hours or so. Was I making the right decision about Agnes and the blackmailer? Putting myself in danger was one thing—bringing Agnes into the mix was another matter entirely.
Not wanting to get into a circular moral debate with myself, I put in the CD my parents had sent and hoped the music would lull me to sleep. It was almost two in the morning, which meant the alarm would be going off in a little over five hours. We didn't open until ten, but I liked to get in early and deal with any necessary paperwork before the team arrived around nine to prep for the day.
The melody did its best to lure my mind into the murky depths of blissful rest. Unanswered questions kept striking an offbeat rhythm into the tune, preventing the solace of sleep. Finally, I grabbed my notepad from the table next to the bed and wrote down the questions depriving me of my shut-eye:
Was someone blackmailing Rico and why?
Why was Agnes being blackmailed for $250,000?
What happened to Agnes's (fake) ring?
What would I do if Tanner took the job in Chicago?
I was sure there were more questions I needed to write down, but the boulder in my stomach at the final one I'd penned took away my will to ask any more. Since I couldn't rest, I decided to try the tea that Agnes had given me earlier tonight. I sat at the table with my notebook and took my first tentative sip of the new tea. This one was much nicer than the last—a hint of orange and something else I couldn't place. That happened with more regularity these days. Maybe I should take a cooking class or something. Ha! In my spare time? I usually slept during my few free hours.
Once half of the cup of tea was gone, I refocused on the first question. Who would blackmail Rico? Allyson would be the logical choice, but given the distaste she'd had for when it was done to her, I couldn't see her turning the tables, especially given the fact that she'd not actually paid the blackmail.
Jonathan was a possibility, but I still couldn't think of a reason or what secret of Rico's he might be aware of that would translate into his being paid to keep silent. Agnes was the only other person I could think of, and that made no sense. She would know he could simply get the money from her account to pay—which was exactly what he did. Unless she was doing it to test him? If Agnes already started to suspect Rico was in it for the money, that could've been a ten-thousand-dollar test. Enough to get his attention, but small enough that he could get access to the funds.
Before continuing my line of thought on Agnes, I took a small detour to the subject of the missing ring. Both Agnes and I, along with the police, had searched her home. The police had searched tavern property, along with my home, and the ring hadn't turned up. Did that mean Agnes's would-be blackmailer had the ring? It was also logical to assume the blackmailer and killer were one and the same person. Wasn't it? Or, I sighed, maybe not.
Returning my thoughts to Agnes, what an interesting development it would be if she were the one behind all of this. Here I had been worried I might need to run an intervention for Agnes. Instead, she might have moved up a few rungs on the cunning-and-evil ladder. I had to be honest and admit to myself that this wasn't the first time I'd considered the possibility that Agnes had been taking advantage of me and our friendship throughout this whole ordeal.
The blackmail note for the quarter of a mil had appeared to take her by surprise. If this newest blackmail was part of her elaborate plot, she'd performed on an Academy Award level. Agnes had always been a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of gal, so I was leaning toward the notion that this development was something not even she had anticipated. I was on the merry-go-round of reasoning, and the ride was making me nauseous. Literally.
I set the tea aside, unsure if it wasn't agreeing with me or if this nightmare of the past few days was setting my tummy in turmoil. Back to my list of questions. Not like I'd made any progress on it, but I couldn't sleep, so might as well keep at it.
The only other person I could think of was not a strong candidate. Steven Sinclair. I simply didn't know him well enough to know whether he had a motive or not. As Jonathan's business partner and close friend to Allyson, there was logic in thinking he might have tried to blackmail Rico to make sure he'd not stand in Agnes's way and to get some retribution for Allyson. Clara had mentioned that Allyson and Steven were "intense." Maybe Steven's actions could have been motivated by chivalry and loyalty?
There was also the issue of the murder weapon. With only knowing it was a blunt item that packed a punch and didn't leave any table residue in the wound, I didn't have much to go on. There were any number of items in Agnes's house that she would have had access to. Though not in my kitchen, I remembered Gram having a rolling pin that I was sure could've created enough impact to do some damage.
If Allyson had been the killer, she could've used a weapon of opportunity—something in Agnes's house or something brought with her. Same with Steven. Images of Steven and his fashion accessory flashed in my brain. Could Steven's walking stick have inflicted a mortal blow to Rico's skull? I wasn't sure what material it was made from, but it looked sturdy. I put my head down on the table. This felt like an exercise in futility. Not only were there multiple suspects, but a thousand different potential weapons. Those had to be worse odds than Vegas.
With no blackmail note to explain the ten thousand dollars, there was no way to tell. This detail annoyed me. If it weren't the middle of the night, I would have texted Mandi to ask for statistics on how many blackmails were carried out that weren't accompanied by a note.
The timing for everything just felt…off. I hated when that happened—usually meant I was overlooking some important detail. My eyelashes were putting on weight, making it difficult for me to keep my eyes open. My brain, on the other hand, was a beehive of activity. Giving in to the fatigue, I decided I could still allow my brain to do its thing with my eyes closed. The only two remaining questions—not that I'd answered a single one on the list yet—was the amount on the blackmail note and my distress over the situation with Tanner.
Yeah, let's focus on the blackmail demand. Easier and less emotional for me.
I searched the archive of my mind to try to remember exactly how much Agnes had won in the lottery. It was possible blackmailer had arrived at the number as a percentage of the winnings.
I'd need a calculator for this, as I knew Agnes had won in the tens of millions of dollars. If the blackmailer knew that and only asked for two hundred and fifty thousand, they should have their criminal card revoked. Seriously! Any bad guy worth their salt would have at least asked for an even million. They would have to know that Agnes could pay that without blinking an eye. A quarter of that was like making a withdrawal from petty cash for her.
No. It had to be something else.
Maybe it had to do with Agnes's life before she became filthy rich. She'd worked as a dispatcher and front desk administrator at the local police department. Maybe she'd denied someone access to visiting a loved one because they didn't possess the proper identification and they were out for revenge? She'd almost done the same to me once, but her softer side had prevailed, and she'd let me visit my mom with only a library card and debit card to prove my identity.
I pounded the pillow a few times for good measure. This was getting me nowhere. I decided to focus on Tanner. Not on the fact that he might be leaving, but rather on all the happy times we'd had. Yeah, that could lead to sweet dreams. At least a few thousand worth, right?
The alarm sounded before I could finish even one sweet dream. I hit the snooze button and decided to let the dream play out before I started my day. Tan and I had gone to Seattle on one of our days off. This was before I had full access to my inheritance, so neither of us had much money. We'd used the majority of what we had to gain access to the top of the Space Needle. Tanner had held my hand as we took in the sight of Mount Rainier in all its breathtaking beauty. The snow-capped mountain stood proudly against the clear sky, almost daring the city to try to conquer the over-fourteen-thousand-feet-high summit.