by Curry, Edna
“Yes, I think so.”
“That’s putting a lot of responsibility into one person’s hands, isn’t it?”
Damn. Did this character suspect Rosie, too? Carefully, he said, “I suppose. But, I’m sure Lester must have approved it. He seems to keep pretty close tabs on what goes on, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does. And he doesn’t like what seems to be going on in your store, which is why I’m here.”
So, Melvin had been sent to do more than help with a computer problem, just as he’d suspected. If only his memory would return, so he could get to the bottom of the trouble himself rather than having to put up with this guy.
He sighed and said, “I wish I could be of more help. But until I get my memory back, I’m afraid we’ll have to go by what the other employees and the paperwork can tell us.”
Melvin eyed him over the top of his coffee cup. “Oh, the paperwork can tell us a lot, believe me,” he said with an evil smile. “And so can your computer. Apparently you didn’t know that things aren’t really deleted when you hit the delete key. Given time, I’ll get it all back.”
I’ll just bet. I only hope Rosie and I still have jobs after this cold fish gets done looking at it, he thought with a shudder.
Back in his office, he tried again to get through to Lester. His secretary claimed he was in a meeting and couldn’t be interrupted. Yeah, right. Lester couldn’t find time or be bothered to return a phone call to his nephew all week?
It didn’t take a genius to read the handwriting on the wall. He was history with this company, and maybe Rosie too. And if Melvin found enough hard evidence, maybe he’d be doing some hard time too. Provided the guys with the guns who’d found him last night didn’t finish him off first.
His stomach threatened to reject his lunch. He fought back the urge to panic and returned to work.
~ * ~
On Grand Bahama Island, where he’d flown from the Cayman Islands, Ken Latham, under his new identity, Ken Lowmer, sat at the roulette table, eyeing the steadily shrinking stack of chips in front of him. The dealer’s stacks on the other hand, were steadily growing higher, as was the stack in front of the heavy-set man sitting across the table from him.
Well dressed people milled throughout the huge, smoke filled room. A bored sounding woman announced another lucky winner of five hundred dollars on the Double Diamond slot machine. The musical tones of the slot machines telling of hitting a winning number and the noisy clatter of coins falling into trays filled the air. Colored lights flashed from overhead neon signs, touting the dollar amounts of various machines’ payoffs.
A middle-aged waitress touched his arm, smiling and offering him a drink. He tossed a bill on her tray and gratefully swallowed the fiery, cool liquid, then bent forward to place a bet and watch the spinning wheel once more.
His bad luck had followed him here to the Islands, Ken thought morosely. He didn’t have his lucky ring any more.
He shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to leave Minneapolis after his uncle’s phone call, damn it. He should have taken the time to go back to that jewelry store to get his good luck charm. For years, he’d carried his grandmother’s ring on a chain around his neck, hidden under his T-shirt, and done quite well, hadn’t he? Well, all except for the past year or so.
But the week before he’d left, he’d noticed that the setting around the emerald in the antique ring had worn down and wasn’t holding the stone very securely. Worried about losing the valuable stone, he’d taken the ring to the jewelry store to be repaired. Then Lester had called about sending in his computer expert and he’d gone into a near panic.
He cursed his poor judgment as he placed another bet on the wheel.
In the rush to complete his plans, he’d forgotten about the ring until the last minute and had to leave it behind. Damn it. That was probably why his luck was going against him again. On the other hand, if he’d taken time to go back for the ring, he’d have missed his plane and might not have gotten away at all. It would be worse luck to be in jail. And he was pretty sure that’s what the future held for him if Lester found out what he’d done. Did he know by now? Was he furious and already looking for him?
As the roulette wheel landed on the wrong number once more, he threw up his hands and left the game.
As he flew back to the Caymans and then drove to his villa, he pondered his situation. Maybe he needed a roll in the hay with Lisa, the dark haired beauty who’d found him the villa to rent. The villa that he wouldn’t be able to afford very long if he kept on losing so heavily and that million dollar insurance policy he’d been counting on didn’t pay off.
And how could it pay off, when no one even thought he was dead? His “accident” scheme hadn’t worked at all. He’d been checking both the chat lists he’d been on back in Minneapolis. No one had mentioned the boat in the lake, or even looked for him, because no one knew he was supposed to be dead or missing.
They thought he was still there, going to work every day as usual. Only it had to be his brother Kirk taking his place, of course. Of all the damnable luck!
Did Kirk really have amnesia, like one gal on the chat list had said? Or was this some weird game he and Uncle Lester were playing to get the better of him? Had they suspected him and thought up this ruse to cover his absence and foil his insurance claim?
Naw, now he was letting his imagination get away from him. How could they possibly know about that? Insurance companies didn’t give out any info at all, even if a person died. You had to know about a policy and file a claim before they even admitted they owed anyone any money.
On the other hand, if Lester really thought Kirk was him, maybe Kirk would end up taking his place in jail? Wouldn’t that be a hoot?
He parked his car and strolled into the villa, then phoned Lisa. “Want to come over for a swim? Yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll order in some dinner. And we’ll have some “dessert” later… Right. Bring that black lace negligee, okay?”
~ * ~
In his Minneapolis motel room, Kirk woke from a sound sleep and sat up, disoriented. Where was he? He’d had the craziest dream, that he and Ken had traded places, like they’d done when they were teens, to fool people. Only now, he knew they were grown up, so why were they playing this silly game?
He fumbled for a lamp and turned it on. Gradually, he recognized a motel room. He got up and walked to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water.
Ugh. Chills raced through him, but he was remembering more all the time. He’d been mugged and woke up in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Rosie had come to see him and stayed to help him. She’d identified him as Ken. She’d driven him to Ken’s apartment.
He remembered Ken’s living room and the sofa and chair with the slashed upholstery. The apartment had been searched. For what? Moving to the window, he drew back the drapery and looked out. Rain splattered the window. He recognized the Minneapolis skyline, brightly lit against the dark nighttime clouds. So he was still in Minneapolis just as his dream indicated. But what was he doing here?
He remembered Rosie helping him clean up the mess the burglars had left. And he remembered being shot at outside Rosie’s apartment one night! Someone wanted him dead!
And the apartment building had burned down. Had the fire been set? Had it been another attempt to kill him? Why?
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, got up and walked to the tiny kitchenette area. He opened the refrigerator and found a cold beer. He sank into the chair at the kitchen table and slowly drank it, trying to make sense out of it all. Had it been a dream? No, he remembered being in the hospital and the doctors saying he had amnesia. Damn, it hadn’t been a weird dream.
And he remembered Rosie calling him Ken. She really thought he was his brother. She’d been engaged to Ken, and he, Kirk, had broken it off. Yikes! He’d broken his brother’s engagement. Boy, was Ken going to be mad when he found out about that.
He tipped up the beer. God, what a mess. And where the h
ell was Ken? He searched his memory for how all this could have happened. Had they planned it? If so, why? And if they hadn’t planned it, and he’d been in Ken’s apartment, where was Ken and why hadn’t he identified him as Kirk and told everyone about his twin?
No, Kirk thought. He was supposed to be on vacation, wasn’t he? Yeah, he thought, finishing off the beer. He was supposed to be fishing out at their lake cabin. He’d refused the job Lester had wanted him to do -- of investigating Ken’s store here. He’d told Lester he was taking his month’s vacation at the family cabin as he’d planned.
No, he’d called and left Lester a message saying he’d do the job after all. So Lester would know he was in Minneapolis, wouldn’t he?
Then he remembered Rosie taking him out to the cabin to get “his” car. He’d driven a white Cadillac back to Minneapolis, following Rosie in her little blue Buick. He remembered her telling him to follow her, because he didn’t know the way. Of course he didn’t know the way, but it wasn’t because of the mugging.
No. It was not because of the amnesia. It was because he wasn’t Ken and never did know the way from the cabin to Minneapolis, because he’d never driven it before.
He glanced at the date on the Rolex on his arm. It was two weeks since he’d left Chicago! He’d lost two weeks to the amnesia. No wonder he felt weird.
How in the hell was he going to explain this to Rosie?
He groaned. Rosie. He really, really liked her and had kissed her several times. More than that, he remembered -- the night of the shooting they’d made love -- several times. She was so hot!
God, he was so attracted to his brother’s fiancée! And she’d seemed to be attracted to him, too. The way they’d connected, the way she’d kissed him back. It had definitely been more than lust.
He was in big trouble here. Ken would be so mad at him. He had to back off!
When Rosie realized he was Kirk and not Ken, she was going to be mad at him, too! Repulsed, even, that she’d made love to him instead of Ken. Just when they’d begun to be comfortable with each other.
He sat thinking for a long time, reassessing the situation in the light of this new knowledge.
Why had he been mugged? Since no one knew him here, and the attack had happened at the Latham store, most likely he’d been mistaken for Ken. Where was Ken?
So, who wanted to hurt Ken and why? What was going on in Ken’s life? Was it his gambling habit again, or something worse?
And what was Uncle Lester thinking? Lester was probably very upset after not hearing from Kirk all this time. He groaned, remembering that he’d never talked to Lester himself, had only left a message for him to let Lester know he’d changed his mind about going to Minneapolis. Maybe he’d never gotten it? Or thought I changed my mind again when he couldn’t reach me? Probably.
So that’s why he’d sent Melvin to the Minneapolis office to investigate, taking the assignment in Kirk’s place.
While they both worked out of Latham’s Chicago headquarters, Kirk didn’t know Melvin very well and had never liked the man.
They’d only met at parties or meetings a few times and for some reason, they always seemed to rub each other the wrong way. But it hadn’t been a problem before now, since Lester usually had each of them working separately, usually in different areas of the country, off at one assignment or another.
But now, he’d better call Lester and let him know what was happening before Melvin accused him of embezzlement or worse.
He looked at his watch and groaned. Four a.m. Lester wouldn’t appreciate being called now.
But he knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep now, either. He really needed to spend more time on Ken’s computer at the Latham store. Answers were what he needed, and he needed them before Melvin found them and blew the whistle, and he found himself in jail as Ken.
He remembered all the stuff he and Melvin had found over the past week, but it wasn’t enough. Now that he had his memory back, he could more easily finish the job. But first he needed his own identity back.
Kirk quickly showered and dressed for the day. If he was lucky, he could get in several hours of work on the computer before the others arrived. And then he could simply pretend he’d been the first one to arrive.
Kirk knew he was a much better investigator than Melvin any day. If there was evidence that Ken, Rosie, Harry or anyone else was embezzling from this store, as he and Lester strongly suspected, he’d have to find it before Melvin did.
He stopped at an all-night restaurant for a couple of hot cinnamon rolls, then drove to Latham’s and parked in his reserved spot. Luckily, he had Ken’s key ring, so he could enter the store without a problem. The store was eerily quiet this early. Night lights glowed dimly, casting soft shadows as he walked up the stairs and used Ken’s key to access his office.
Kirk put on a pot of coffee and ate the rolls as he worked. A couple of hours later, he’d emptied the pot and made more coffee. Hungry again, he helped himself to a couple of the chocolate chip cookies Karen had brought in the day before.
He and Melvin had already sorted out a lot of information, but with his memory back Kirk was able to quickly make sense of what they had and add to it.
The more he dug into the files of the computer, the more he suspected that someone had embezzled money, and lots of it. And since Ken was missing, maybe it was him? Or… was it someone else who was making it look like Ken had done it? If so, was his brother all right? Or hurt or even dead? Maybe the overturned boat and the white Caddy at the lake had been legit? Had Ken drowned that day? The thought sent a cold chill down his back. Or, if he hadn’t drowned, had those guys who’d shot at him found Ken?
No, if they had, they wouldn’t still be after him, thinking he was Ken, would they?
Much more likely, Ken was in hiding somewhere. God, he hoped so. No matter what he’d done, Ken just had to be okay. Somehow, they’d get him help to break this gambling addiction, if that was the cause of all this.
Determined to learn the truth, Kirk turned back to work.
By 7:30, he knew he was running out of time. The others would arrive by 8:00 and he had to reach Uncle Lester.
When he couldn’t reach Lester at home, Kirk left a message and tried his office. There he left another message, telling Lester’s stern secretary, Miss Livingston that it was urgent he talk to Lester ASAP. He left his cell phone number, then swore, realizing it would show up in their caller ID as Ken’s. He’d better buy a new one on his lunch hour. Obviously, the guys who had mugged him had taken his cell phone along with his laptop and billfold. But damn it, he didn’t have any ID as Kirk to buy a cell phone with.
He sat back with yet another cup of coffee and contemplated the best way to handle Rosie and Melvin when they arrived. Finally, he decided to just plain tell them right out, that he was Kirk and had no idea where Ken was.
Chapter 10
Melvin and Rosie arrived on schedule and, as Kirk had planned, merely thought he was early. He greeted them, told Karen to hold all calls except from Lester at the home office and went back to his office.
When Melvin walked in, Kirk remained in his chair. Melvin stood there as though expecting him to give up his seat. When Kirk didn’t, Melvin frowned and said, “I need to get back to work on your computer, if you don’t mind.”
Kirk waved his hand to one of the chairs across from him. “Sit down. I have something to explain first.”
“Are you ready to confess?” Melvin asked with a smirk.
Kirk sent him a nasty look. “Hardly.”
Melvin shrugged and took the chair Kirk had indicated. Perhaps something in Kirk’s face cautioned him to obey.
After giving Rosie a minute to get to her office, Kirk buzzed her and asked her to come into his office.
She came in, carrying a tray of coffee and handed a mug to each of them. “You rang, Ken?”
“Yes. Please sit down. I have something to explain.”
“You got your memory back, didn’t you?” Rosie gue
ssed, eying him. A huge smile lit her face. “Oh Ken, that’s wonderful!”
He grimaced. “Yes, I got my memory back, but I’m not Ken. I’m his twin brother, Kirk Latham.”
Rosie’s smile disappeared and she gasped. “Twin brother? Oh…Yes, the one who works out of headquarters. Lester said he was sending Ken’s twin…Kirk. Wait, he’s the computer specialist. But then he sent Melvin, didn’t he?” She turned to stare at Melvin, then back to Kirk.
“Yes, I’m from the home office. That’s me. I’m the man he was sending, Kirk Latham.”
Melvin guffawed loudly. “Nice try, Ken. But you’re not getting out of trouble that easy. I happen to know Kirk is off on a month’s vacation, which is why I’m here. You can ask Lester, Rosie.”
“Melvin also works out of the home office, Rosie, as I do. But I’m sure Lester only sent Melvin because I never got through to him to tell my uncle I was taking this job after all. I did leave him a message, but maybe he didn’t get it somehow.”
Melvin snorted, “Yeah, right.”
Kirk ignored him. “I refused this assignment at first, because I didn’t like the idea of investigating my brother. But I changed my mind and flew in anyway. Then I was mugged and lost my memory, so I couldn’t tell him -- until today.”
“Prove you’re Kirk,” Melvin challenged.
Kirk calmly sipped his coffee, though he’d already had so many cups this morning he was feeling water-logged. He watched Melvin over the rim of his cup and gave a little laugh. “All right, Pal. I can do that. Want me to recite the details of your last fiasco in Atlanta with Joe Reames?”
Melvin stared and paled, then flushed.
“Or shall I tell Rosie about the time I caught you in the supply room in St. Louis with that red-haired secretary? Her name was Kathy, wasn’t it? Or how about Lulene, the brunette in the bar after our office Christmas party last year?”
Melvin put up a hand, red-faced. “Okay, okay. I believe you. Only Kirk would know those things.” He glanced at Rosie, looking embarrassed about what Kirk had revealed.