Out of Her Depth

by Brenda Hiatt

  Nonchalantly, staying a few yards apart, we headed away from the reception desk and out the archway leading to the beach. I resisted the temptation to look over my shoulder. It really didn’t matter if Phelps saw me, but if I made eye contact with him, I’d have to say something. And I definitely didn’t want to introduce him to Ronan. Not yet, anyway.

  “Okay, what was that about?” Ronan asked when we were halfway to the breakers.

  “Stefan Melampus’s lawyer. I just spent close to two hours being grilled by him and didn’t want to give him the chance to ask any more questions he might have thought of since.”

  “So, you want to walk on the beach again while we talk? It’s probably as safe a place as any.”

  I definitely didn’t want to be anywhere we might be overheard, but—“You’re not worried we’ll be seen together? By the FBI or someone else? It seems like Aruba—and my hotel in particular—is crawling with interested parties.”

  “Oh? Anyone I should know about besides the FBI and this lawyer we just escaped from?”

  “Well, there’s Stefan Melampus’s assistant. And that guy that attacked us yesterday, along with anyone else Michelle Alvares might have working with her.”

  “Assistant? When did he—and that lawyer—get here?”

  We fell into step, walking briskly away from the hotel, toward the less populated end of the beach.

  “Last night. I was so rattled by the FBI interrogation that I forgot to mention the others—though I didn’t actually meet with either of them until today.”

  He gave me a long, considering look, but then shrugged. “Fair enough. I can’t expect you to give me every detail of every phone call you’ve had since you arrived on the island. Not when I wasn’t always completely upfront with you.”

  I was relieved he wasn’t angry about it, since I needed his advice. At least, that was the main reason I was relieved.

  “Everything has been happening so fast, I’ve had a hard time keeping up with it myself,” I said by way of a partial explanation. “And I’m still not sure who the good guys and bad guys are in this whole scenario—who I can really trust.”

  He reached over and brushed a strand of windblown hair out of my eyes, an intimate gesture that softened me in spite of myself. “I hope you trust me, Wynne—though as I said, I can’t really blame you if you don’t.”

  “I really, really want to,” I said with perfect honesty, “because I’m in serious need of some advice right now.”

  “Why? What’s happened since we talked last night?” If his concern wasn’t geniune, he was an excellent actor.

  “Several things, two of them scary. Remember what you said about this thing not being limited to Aruba? I found out late last night that someone broke into my house back in Indiana, and I’m afraid it might have had something to do with what’s going on here.”

  “I hope no one was hurt.”

  “No, no one was home except my cat, and he’s fine. But they went through my mail and stole a big family portrait from over the fireplace . . . I think they must have been trying to scare me as much as anything.”

  He nodded. “Entirely possible. Whoever they are, they won’t want you leaving Aruba with that ring, or saying anything to the authorities that might help clear Melampus. Though it would make more sense for them to go after him directly.”

  “They’ve tried. His assistant told me so this morning. There’ve been several attempts on his life, but he’s really well protected. And now he’s set it up so if they kill him, whole lists of names and specifics will come out, implicating most of his former cronies.”

  “Thus the motive to frame him for murder. Apart from the insurance money, that is. But I really don’t like them targeting you, Wynne, here or back in the States. There has to be a way to flush out Michelle Alvares and collapse their whole plan once and for all.”

  “Chris Smith!”

  Not surprisingly, Ronan looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Excuse me?”

  “That was the other scary thing. I got another phone message today from the same woman who tried to lure me to the Cartier store the other night. Michelle Alvares, I assume.”

  “What did she say this time? Was she still pretending to be from the jewelry store?”

  “No. It was pretty much a straight threat, telling me to leave the ring at the hotel desk addressed to a ‘Chris Smith’ if I wanted to stay safe.”

  “Which means we can set a trap. I can’t imagine she won’t have thought of that, though.”

  “Maybe she’s getting desperate after yesterday’s attempt to get the ring failed. She may even know about the FBI being here, and figure if she doesn’t get it right away, she may not get another chance. This could be a last-ditch effort.”

  “Maybe.” He still looked doubtful. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

  I shook my head. “I only got the message a few minutes before you called, after I got back from my meeting with the lawyer. He wants the ring, too, by the way. Oh, and so does the FBI. What do you think, Ronan? Should I just leave the ring at the desk, like she said, or should I let the FBI guys handle it?”

  Since either option would pretty much torpedo Ronan’s shot at that million dollar bonus, I wasn’t surprised when he hesitated. “You can call in the FBI, of course, if you trust them. Or you could let me do it. I’m pretty good at surveillance, if I say so myself.”

  “You mean, do what she says, then stake out the reception desk to see who picks up the envelope? You don’t think she’d actually come herself, do you?”

  “Probably not. Notice she used an androgynous name—Chris. That way either a man or a woman can ask for it without arousing suspicion.”

  I hadn’t noticed, but of course he was right. “What if I leave an envelope for Chris Smith, but instead of the ring, I enclose instructions on where to find it? Then we could stake out that spot instead of watching every single person who goes up to the desk at the hotel. Or would that be too obvious?”

  He grinned. “You’re really starting to get into this cloak-and-dagger stuff, aren’t you? But yeah, even if Michelle’s not the sharpest tack in the box, I doubt she’d fall for that—unless she’s really, really desperate. Plus, there’s whoever she’s working with. We can’t count on all of them being stupid, unfortunately.”

  “Then you don’t think it’s just her and Lenny?” I suppressed another shiver. “Here in Aruba, I mean.”

  “Could be. And either one would be fairly easy to spot at the hotel, since we know what they both look like.”

  I grimaced. “Which they probably realize. And Lenny—or whatever his name really is—won’t dare to show his face again anytime soon.”

  “No, I don’t think he will. But even if it is just the two of them, they could pay someone, anyone, to pick up the envelope. Someone we’d never suspect, like a kid.”

  “I hadn’t even thought of that. But it’s making my note idea sound better and better.”

  For a moment I was silent. Ronan was silent too, as we walked along the beautiful white beach, a yard or two from the breakers, both thinking. Then I had an inspiration.

  “I know,” I said. “How about when I give the envelope to the person at the desk, I tell her—or him—to give us a signal when someone comes to claim it? Something subtle, like scratching their head or coughing?”

  Ronan shrugged. “That will only work if the same person is on duty when they come to get the ring. And if they don’t anticipate anything like that and use a bribe—or a threat—to keep the reception clerk from doing whatever we asked.”

  “Two pretty big ifs,” I admitted, deflated. “Plus, now that I think of it, there are always at least two people on the desk.”

  I lapsed back into silence, out of ideas.

  “Of course, these plans aren’t mutually exclusive
,” Ronan said after a moment. “We can leave a note for Chris Smith setting up a rendezvous, and then stake out the reception desk to see who comes to pick it up. Even if it’s not Michelle, whoever it is might lead us to her.”

  “Hmm. And maybe I can come up with a plausible-sounding reason for not leaving the ring. I could write something about being afraid the FBI will get it if I leave it at the hotel desk, that they’ve been watching me.”

  Ronan nodded. “Not bad. And if they buy it, the second stakeout might work if the first one doesn’t. Two bites at the apple. You’re pretty good at this, Wynne.”

  “Thanks.” I tried not to preen. “It’s kind of like a puzzle. I’ve always liked puzzles—crossword, jigsaw, sudoku. This one just has a lot more riding on the solution.”

  “It does,” he agreed. “Which means once you leave the note, you need to lock yourself in your room and let me take it from there. Things could turn dangerous. I’m trained to handle that and you’re not, even if you are a natural puzzle-solver.”

  Though that was exactly what I’d hoped he’d offer to do, I surprised myself by shaking my head. “I’m already in this deep. I want to see it through.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look directly at him. “Wynne, listen to me. These people play for keeps. There’s already been one murder. You can’t put yourself at that kind of risk. Think of your daughters.”

  “Who have lives of their own, as you pointed out to me last night. I’m finally at a point in my life where I can take risks, Ronan. And I need to do this.”

  “No. I won’t let you, Wynne.”

  I instinctively bristled at that. “You can’t stop me. I’ll . . . I’ll go to the FBI with everything if you won’t let me help.” It was probably what I ought to do anyway, but I knew how much Ronan had riding on this.

  “I’d rather you do that than put yourself at risk,” he surprised me by saying. “I could never enjoy the money if you got hurt because of me.”

  He turned and started walking back toward the hotel, and I walked beside him, trying to figure out what my next step should be now that he’d called my bluff. Because no matter how I told myself I should call Agents Truman and Walters with this new info, I really didn’t want to.

  Ronan must have been thinking too, because after a moment, he said, “How about this? If you’ll let me handle things—alone—I’ll cut you in on twenty percent of that bonus, if I get it.”

  Twenty thousand—no, two hundred thousand dollars? Tempting, but I was already shaking my head again. “No deal. I’m helping. Then, if you get your bonus, you can cut me in for part of it if you want to, your choice. But I’m not letting you pay me not to help.”

  “You are one stubborn woman, Wynne. Have I told you that?”

  “I think so,” I said, grinning in my relief. “I promise to try not to do anything stupid, if that helps.”

  “It does. But I also want you to promise to let me call the shots. And if I tell you to stay put, or to run, you do exactly that. Otherwise, you can go ahead and bring in the Feds and neither of us gets rich.”

  “Deal. It’s not like I want to get hurt, you know. I just . . . well, it’s hard to explain. But I feel like if I back off now, I’ll never have the nerve to do anything adventurous again.”

  Now he was grinning, too. “Wasn’t it just yesterday you told me you weren’t willing to put yourself at risk for what I believe you called ‘my precious payout’?”

  “And I’m not. That’s not why I’m doing it. But wasn’t it just last night that you told me that it’s the risk that makes your job fun? I’ve decided it’s time I started taking some risks. Not stupid ones,” I added quickly. “The kind that will make me braver. The fun ones.”

  “I think I may have created a monster,” he murmured, shaking his head.

  I laughed, but Ronan turned serious again.

  “Okay, back to the plan,” he said. “If we only put a note in the envelope, whoever picks it up will know right away there’s no ring inside. Since we don’t know who’ll be picking it up or what kind of instructions they’ll have been given, we should probably get a cheap ring somewhere to use as a decoy and put it in with the note.”

  “That makes sense. In fact, I’ve got one we can use.” My wedding ring was still sitting in my room safe. Since I hadn’t yet carried out my plan of tossing it into the ocean, I might as well put it to good use.

  Luckily, Ronan didn’t ask for details. “Okay, that’ll save us some time. Meanwhile, I need to think of a good place for a rendezvous—not too public, but not so remote it will be dangerous.”

  “Maybe somewhere in Oranjestad, but off the beaten path?” I suggested.

  “Maybe, though if the first half of the plan works, it won’t matter. I’ll be doing any actual tailing, by the way. Agreed?”

  I started to argue, but then realized I’d probably botch the operation, as inexperienced as I was. “Agreed,” I said. “I’ll just be your . . . your backup.”

  Ronan grinned. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have. But keep the phone number of the FBI guys handy just in case, okay?”

  “Okay.” I certainly wouldn’t be much use by myself if Ronan ran into an ambush or something. It’s not like I had a gun—or knew how to use one.

  We drew level with the hotel. “Why don’t you run up to your room and get that ring you mentioned, then we’ll work on the wording of the note,” he said. “Meet back in the lobby in fifteen minutes?”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Then maybe we can grab some dinner or something before we drop the envelope at the desk. What does one eat before a stakeout?”

  He only laughed and shook his head, but I entered the hotel feeling more cheerful than I’d have thought possible an hour earlier. Still, I did think to glance around the lobby for any suspicious—or familiar—characters before crossing it to get to the elevators. No one rang any alarms.

  Padding down the hall of the fourteenth floor toward my suite at the end, I wondered if I had time for a quick shower, since it would only take a minute to grab my wedding ring out of the safe. I put my card in the key slot, contemplating potential stakeout outfits, knowing Ronan would laugh if he knew.

  Smiling to myself, I opened the door—then froze as a shape rose from the chair by the window.

  A man’s shape, coming toward me.

  A familiar shape.

  “Happy Anniversary, Wynne.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “TOM?” I felt like I’d suddenly stepped into an alternate dimension—or a nightmare. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d surprise you.”

  “No, seriously. What are you doing here? In my room? In Aruba?” My heart rate was starting to slow now, but there was no denying he’d surprised me. And not in a good way.

  He closed the distance between us and kissed my cheek. I flinched away, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Your mother told me you didn’t seem quite as eager to work things out as I am, so I thought I’d come convince you in person. After all, today is our twenty-fifth anniversary. Besides, it seemed a shame to let all this—” he waved an arm to indicate the suite and the view—“go to waste, after it was already paid for.”

  I glared at him. “It wasn’t going to waste. I’ve been enjoying it just fine, thanks. By myself.”

  The look he gave me was the patronizing one I’d always hated—the one I’d tried so hard to forget.

  “Come on, Wynne, I know you. What fun can you possibly be having all alone? You can only take so many solitary walks on the beach. And you’ve probably had room service every meal, since you hate going to restaurants alone.”

  “Actually, I’ve learned to enjoy it over the past eight months,” I informed him. “I’m learning to enjoy a lot of things I never tried before.”
>
  He just shook his head and smiled. “You mother told me how hard it’s been for you, all alone. That’s why I thought I should come, once Bess told me you were here.”

  Why, oh why, hadn’t I told the girls not to tell Tom when I’d told them not to tell my mother? Because it hadn’t occurred to me that he’d ask. Or even that he might call either of them. Which he probably hadn’t.

  “I assume she let it slip when she called to tell you about getting into the dinner theater troupe?”

  “Let it slip? Like it was a secret or something? I asked where you were, since your mother didn’t know, and Bess told me. End of story.”

  “I hope you at least congratulated her first.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure I did. But I also told her I hoped this wouldn’t keep her from looking for a real job. All those years of college going to waste—”

  “Again with the waste. She loves what she’s doing, even if she’s not making much money at it yet.”

  But I felt a twinge of guilt as I spoke, knowing I’d thought the same thing. No more, though. If Bess wanted to sing and act, that’s what she should do, even if it meant working temp jobs to make ends meet.

  “Fine. Fine. I didn’t come here to fight, Wynne.”

  “Then exactly why did you come? And what does Darlene think of your impromptu trip?”

  For the first time he looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I don’t think she . . . I didn’t . . . I mean, that’s over, Wynne. It was never going to work long term. Not like us. I, well, I’ve missed you.”

  “How sad for you.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice.

  “Oh, like you haven’t missed me, too? I mean, it’s sweet that you came here in honor of our anniversary, but that’s kind of sad, too.” He put an arm around my shoulders, which made me acutely uncomfortable.

  I moved out from under his arm and took a step away from him. “I didn’t come here in honor of our anniversary. I came because the trip was paid for—and to celebrate my independence.”