by Laura Durham
It took me a moment to unravel what he meant.
“Your daughter will be taking over the reins of your business?” Reese asked.
Mr. Hamilton didn’t look up. “We signed the papers this morning. I was going to announce it tonight at the wedding.”
Chapter 15
Richard gave a high-pitched yelp as he nearly bumped into me leaving the father’s study. “Good heavens, Annabelle. What on earth are you doing out here?”
I put a hand over his mouth and pulled the door closed so the father wouldn’t hear us. “Keep it down. I’m obviously listening in on your conversation with Mr. Hamilton. Did I hear correctly? Veronica is the new CEO?”
Reese led us a few steps away from the door. “That’s what he said, which means our pool of suspects just widened.”
Richard mumbled something underneath the hand I still held across his mouth.
I dropped my hand. “What was that?”
“Is there some sort of tariff on hand cream I don’t know about?” He wiped at his mouth. “Your skin is like sandpaper, darling.”
“I’ll add it to my to-do list,” I said. “Right after finding Kate and salvaging this wedding.”
Richard twisted to face Reese. “Remind me never to ask you to pick out the wine. When have you ever heard of a wine being hammy?”
Reese shrugged. “There are all sorts of odd flavors used to describe wine—earthy, buttery, grassy. I thought you said hammy, and I didn’t think it was so farfetched. Maybe next time don’t make me a sommelier.”
We all stopped talking as a pair of jesters wandered past us dressed in black-and-red costumes with ruffled collars and hats sprouting points of stiff fabric tipped with bells. Bells hung from their long tunics and adorned the tips of their shoes, making the performers jingle with each step.
“Next time?” Richard touched his fingertips to his throat once the jesters were out of earshot and the jingling had faded. “I certainly hope your going undercover at our weddings doesn’t become a habit.”
“You think this is fun for me?” Reese narrowed his eyes at Richard. “I’m not here ten minutes before I’m outed and dating an older man.”
“Older?” Richard’s voice was no more than a hiss. “Did you refer to me as an ‘older man’?”
I cringed. Richard may have been significantly closer to forty than I was, but it was something we never discussed. Just like I pretended not to notice we were in a Groundhog Day loop when it came to celebrating his thirty-fifth birthday.
I put a hand on Richard’s arm as he began to stagger back against the wall. “He didn’t mean older as in age, did you?” I glared at Reese. “He meant older as in more sophisticated and worldly.”
“Sure,” Reese said. “That’s what I meant. Older as in a finely-aged wine.”
“Don’t push it,” I muttered. “If you call him hammy, I’ll kill you.”
Richard’s breathing returned to normal. “I’ve always thought of myself as a precocious Syrah bursting with fruity undertones.”
“Sounds about right,” I said, ignoring the look from Richard and turning my attention to Reese. “I heard what the dad said about the rival he blames for spilling the secrets about his DOD project.”
“Tarek something-or-other,” Richard said.
I motioned for them both to follow me further away from the study door. “Tarek Nammour. The same guy Mrs. Hamilton’s assistant says she’s been having an affair with.”
Richard made a face. “Sherry’s been having an affair with Mr. Hamilton’s business rival? How tacky.”
“Not Sherry,” I said. “Mrs. Hamilton. That’s why she had the security cameras turned off. So there wouldn’t be video record of him coming over.”
“So the cameras out front?” Reese asked.
“Useless,” I told him. “Sherry says they haven’t been recording for a few weeks.”
“So this Tarek Nammour is the husband’s top business rival and is sleeping with his wife?” Richard said. “Oh, the wicked weaves we web.”
I cocked my head at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“What can I say?” Richard said. “I’ve gotten used to Kate’s mangled expressions.”
I pivoted to face Reese. “Do you think that gives Tarek Nammour a motive? Or does it implicate the mother?”
Reese ran a hand through his dark hair, and the single curl that fell over his forehead dropped back into place. “It’s too early to know. It seems like this Tarek guy may have had a reason to hate Hamilton. Getting a government contract is big money, and if the dad beat out his competitors by cheating, they could have tens of millions of reasons to want him to suffer. At first glance, it makes sense that whoever is demanding the poison gas is a terrorist, but what if the goal isn’t to use the gas but to tank the company making it?”
“So one of his rivals gets Hamilton to violate his contract and break the law. The rival then has the chance to step in when Hamilton’s arrested or fired?”
“Maybe they get the contract,” Reese said. “Maybe they humiliate him and ruin him financially. Maybe they devalue his company enough to buy it. If it really is this rival Tarek, maybe it has to do with the fact that the man is sleeping with Mrs. Hamilton. It could be a double whammy. Ruin your rival and steal his wife. Win-win.”
Richard pretended to shiver. “That’s cold.”
“But believable,” I said. “Wouldn’t you be out for revenge if a fellow caterer stole one of your signature recipes?”
“I’d strangle them in their sleep,” Richard said.
Reese’s eyes widened. “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that.”
“But if the guy is sleeping with Mrs. Hamilton, isn’t he already getting his revenge?” Richard asked. “Chances are the leaks Mr. Hamilton mentioned are coming from his wife indulging in pillow talk. Tarek Nammour is already doing damage. Isn’t it overkill to kidnap his rival’s daughter and destroy his company?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Either way, he’ll be here in a couple of hours, and we can question him.”
“Don’t forget the bride’s brother.” Reese held up a finger. “If he found out his father was turning over the reins of the company to his sister, he could have had plenty of motivation to try to eliminate her.”
“But wouldn’t he be damaging the company he wants to run? You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Richard frowned.
“You mean ‘don’t bite the head that feeds you’?” I asked, channeling my inner Kate to properly mangle the expression. “Or bite the hand that feels you?”
Richard let out a small sigh. “Now it feels right.”
“Maybe,” Reese answered, “but revenge isn’t always logical. We also don’t know what the brother knows. The bride being named CEO could have been a surprise to him as well.”
“I can tell you it wasn’t,” Alexandra said, sauntering toward us from the end of the hall as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, her scent of sugar and perfume reaching me before she did.
I noticed her skirt looked twisted, and I regretted getting distracted on my way to specify that she wasn’t to seduce anyone in her quest for information. “You found the bride’s brother?”
“Oh, yes.” She winked at us as she linked her arm through Richard’s. “I had a lovely chat with the boy. Such a doll.”
This didn’t sync with how Mrs. Hamilton’s assistant had described him. “Victor?” I said. “Tall? Dark hair?”
She nodded. “All he needed was a little attention to get him to open up.”
I did not want to know what kind of attention she gave him. “And he told you he knew his sister was going to be made CEO?”
“He overheard his father talking to her. The poor boy was crushed after thinking for years he would follow in his father’s footsteps.”
“His father’s footsteps might be leading to jail,” I said. “So maybe he dodged a bullet. Do you think he had anything to do with his sister’s kidnapping?”
Alexandra glanced
over her shoulder. “To be honest, I don’t think the boy has the initiative or ingenuity to pull it off. He’s not terribly fond of either sister, but I don’t think he’s clever enough to hatch a plan and coordinate a team.”
“I don’t think we can eliminate him yet,” Reese said. “I’m not discounting your intuition, but we need to fully consider everyone until we can eliminate them definitively.”
Richard’s phone trilled and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket, letting out an exasperated breath when he saw the name on the screen. “Yes, Leatrice. What is it?”
Reese gave me a questioning look.
“Leatrice is watching Hermes for him,” I whispered. “She’s had a lot of questions.”
“No, you cannot color his hair,” Richard said, tapping his foot in rapid-fire against the hardwood floor. “I don’t care if it washes out. I do not want a pink dog.”
Reese grinned. “A pink dog might suit him.”
Richard inhaled quickly as he listened, and I wondered if we were approaching breathing-into-a-paper-bag territory. “Absolutely not! I don’t care if perms are making a comeback. If I don’t get my dog back looking exactly like he did when I dropped him off, heads will roll.”
I took the cell phone from Richard. “Hey, Leatrice. It’s Annabelle.”
“Hello, dear. Can you tell Richard he’s being no fun?” Hermes yipped in the background.
“How about you go with non-permanent accessories?” I suggested. “You know they have feathers and colored hair you can clip right into your regular hair? They even have clip-in bangs.”
Richard reached for the phone. “No feathers and no bangs!”
I stepped out of his reach. “As long as it’s removable, you should be fine.”
“What a wonderful idea, dear,” Leatrice said. “Maybe I’ll try feathers too. Hermes and I can match. I guess we’re off to the beauty supply store.”
I hung up and handed the phone back to Richard, trying not to laugh as I imagined his face when he saw his Yorkie and my octogenarian neighbor in matching hair feathers. “Problem solved.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Richard asked, dropping his phone back into his pocket. “You authorized Leatrice to buy my dog a hairpiece. If Hermes has a comb-over when I pick him up, I’m not speaking to you for as long as I live.”
We paused our conversation as a pair of enormous masked performers approached in burgundy velvet cloaks and shiny white masks with elongated noses and chins. These two would certainly make a statement as part of the “row of masks” greeting arriving guests.
I waited for them to pass so I could start talking again, but they stopped when they reached us. “Are you looking for the rest of the greeters?” I asked, shifting in place as they stared at me from behind their blank masks.
“It’s us.” Mack’s deep voice took me by surprise as he and Buster pulled off their masks.
I gaped at them. “What are you doing?”
“We’re incognito.” Buster replaced his mask on his face, and I wondered if his motorcycle goggles were tucked under his black velvet hat.
“Why?” Richard asked.
“There are so many performers and vendors on-site, there’s a chance one of them is either involved in the kidnapping or saw something but is afraid to say something,” Mack explained. “So we’re infiltrating. We figure there’s a better chance of someone talking if they think we’re one of them.”
“That’s not the worst idea,” Reese said.
Since the two men were noticeably larger than every other masked performer, I wondered just how incognito they would be.
“Do not let Sidney Allen see you.” The entertainment diva would have a coronary if he saw two linebacker-sized performers with leather pants poking out of the bottom of their costumes.
“Is he the high-strung fellow with the clipboard and headset?” Buster asked.
“And the pants devouring his body inch by inch?” Richard said. “That’s him.”
Mack slipped his mask back on his face. “With that in mind, we’d better run before he sees us.”
The two men lumbered down the hall away from us, their capes flapping around their black leather calves instead of reaching their feet.
“Are those capes supposed to be high waters?” Alexandra asked.
Richard draped a hand over his eyes. “My life is a Fellini film.”
Chapter 16
I led everyone down to the ceremony tent because it was far enough away from the house that no one could overhear us, and it was shaded so we wouldn’t get sunstroke while we talked.
“This is pretty,” Alexandra said as she took in the rows of folding chairs and the enormous gilded frame at the altar area flanked by two towering arrangements of white blooming branches and feathers. Since the tent was open on all sides, the view through the frame was of the rolling hills, the horses out to pasture, and the wooden barn in the distance. “Less fussy than the reception tent.”
“Guests will only be here for thirty minutes, so we tied the decor into the theme but used the natural landscape as the focus,” I said, taking a seat on the front row and picking up a feathered fan.
She winked at me. “You sound like Buster and Mack.”
“I guess all the years of listening to them describing floral decor has rubbed off.” I fanned my face to keep the beads of sweat that were forming around my hairline from trickling down my forehead.
“Do we think it’s a good idea those two are doing our undercover work?” Richard asked, sitting next to me with his back ramrod straight and not a drop of sweat in sight.
“I’m not sure how undercover they actually are," Reese said.
Richard gave him a quick glance. “Exactly my thoughts.”
“Great minds think alike.” Reese took the seat on the other side of me and draped an arm across the back of my chair.
“Well,” Richard sniffed as he scooted closer to me, “don’t let it go to your head.”
I took out my wedding day schedule and flipped it over to write on. “If every crime is based on motive and opportunity, why don’t we figure out who has one or both from what we know so far?”
Reese leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Are you trying to turn me on by talking like this?”
I elbowed him, hoping Richard wouldn’t hear and stomp off in a tizzy. I wanted to build on their moment of detente instead of reminding Richard of the ways he couldn’t compete with my boyfriend.
“You want me to Google all the terrorist organizations in the world?” Richard asked, producing his phone.
“Even if a terrorist organization orchestrated this, they didn’t burst in wearing ski masks and brandishing machine guns,” Reese said, flipping open his own notebook. “This was done with stealth, which makes me think the people involved were either on-site as part of the setup crew or were pretending to be. And we shouldn’t assume a terrorist group is behind the kidnapping simply because of the ransom. No group has claimed responsibility. I’m still not convinced the ransom isn’t a distraction to make us think this is terrorism when it may be corporate warfare.”
Richard rubbed his chin. “You believe the father’s claims?”
“I think he knows better than any of us what producing this ransom will do to his company and to him. It’s a clever way to strike at him without actually taking a shot at him, especially since he beefed up his personal security. This man felt threatened enough to hire a bunch of paramilitary guys to watch him like a hawk. We have to take that into consideration.”
“We should also remember what we know about Mr. Hamilton. If he’s the target, who hates him enough to pull a stunt like this to get even with him?” I said. “From what I can tell, it’s a lot of people. And plenty of them are related to him.”
Alexandra meandered to the altar area and stepped through the giant frame. “His son is pretty hurt about being cut out of the CEO job, but I don’t get the feeling he’d kidnap his sister to get back at his father.”
“The bride’s Aunt Connie had some choice words about her brother-in-law, but she also seems close to her sister. Even if you think your sister’s husband is a ‘heaping pile of horse manure,’” I made air quotes, “you don’t kidnap your niece to stick it to him.”
“Heaping pile of horse manure?” Richard said. “I feel like I might like this Aunt Connie.”
“She’s the same one Sherry told me was secretly being sent money every month by the mother,” I said. “So this family clearly has some issues.”
“Sherry?” Alexandra asked.
“The mother’s personal assistant,” I explained. “She knows everything. She’s the one who told me the bride and groom met at rehab, and the mother has been supporting her side of the family with her husband’s money for years.”
Reese scratched in his notebook. “I wonder what other secrets this Sherry knows. I should probably talk to her.”
“Does she know the bride’s mother is planning on asking for a divorce?”
We all turned around to see Fern striding down the aisle from the back of the tent.
“What?” I stood and let Fern sink into my empty chair.
“It’s true,” he said, taking the feathered program from me and fanning his face. “She was only waiting until after the wedding so she wouldn’t steal her daughter’s thunder.”
“When were you planning on telling us?” Richard asked.
Fern snapped his fan shut and rapped it on Richard’s leg. “I just found out when I was taking the curlers out of her hair, but it took forever to find you all. Do you know how long it takes to search every room in that house?”
“Who else knows about this?” Reese asked. “Does the father?”
“Not from what I could understand.” Fern unfurled the feathered program and resumed fanning himself. “Annabelle, sweetie, would you be a dear and get me some lemonade? I’m feeling a bit light-headed from my ordeal.”