Hidden

by Fern Michaels

  But what then? Try to buy the stuff back from Bodman? Then try to sell it to the highest bidder? He had to think on that. He racked his brain to remember what could be so valuable in a broken-down table, brass headboard, splintered dresser with missing drawers, and side table with a cracked leg. Was there something else he might have overlooked? As far as he could tell, there had been nothing worth anything in that garage. It would take a heck of a lot of days trying to reconstruct the rubble. He shrugged. Must be something important. He went back to the bar and asked his friend Leroy if he wanted to go for a joy ride. He even insinuated there could be some more money in it for both of them. Leroy bought a six-pack of beer from the bartender and jumped in the cab of George’s pickup. They stopped at a drive-through burger joint. Leroy leaned over George and placed his order through the window. He stocked up on greasy, cheesy food, including several value meals, dessert, and milkshakes.

  “What ’er you feedin’ in there?” George spat at Leroy.

  “We dunno how long were gonna be, so I’s wants to be sure we have provisions.”

  George muttered something under his breath.

  “’Sides, you got yerself some cash, what ’er you complainin’ about?”

  “Nothin’” George pulled two twenty-dollar bills from his wallet. He got a dollar back in change. “I swear that’s the most money I ever spent here. You got ’nough to feed a small army.”

  “Quit gripin’.” Leroy sat back in his seat. “Not sure what I should eat first. The fried chicken or the double cheeseburger.”

  “Eat the burger. Chicken ain’t bad if it’s room temp.” George pulled up to the window to retrieve their food order.

  “Y’all have a nice night,” said the woman with orange hair and a gold front tooth who handed him the bag with their food in it.

  George grumbled, “It’s gonna be a long one, that’s fer sure.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Stillwell Art Center

  Sunday

  It was the crack of dawn when George and Leroy pulled into the parking lot of the Stillwell Art Center. It was also the same time Jimmy Can-Do brought his work into the shop. Jimmy had never seen anyone else in the area at that hour before and wondered what a beat-up pickup was doing at the far end of the parking lot. And he wasn’t about to find out either. It was too far away to read the license plate, but if he ever had to give someone a description, it would be easy. Old. Dark green. Wood railings on the flatbed. Duct tape on the front bumper.

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Millstone Manor

  Rowena was up earlier than usual. Her adrenaline was pumping. She had a good feeling about this trip. She’d take the company jet to Asheville and use a car service to take her to the Stillwell Art Center. Once she got there, she would browse, then casually pay Mr. Bodman a visit. Once she got the lay of the land, she would figure out her next move. Based on the condition of all the other items they had retrieved, she doubted that Bodman guy would have made any progress restoring all that junk. She also figured he hadn’t found the will; otherwise, he would have brought it to someone’s attention. No, she was fairly sure the document that threatened her lifestyle was still hidden somewhere. As soon as she could locate the salvaged pieces, the sooner she could plan her next move. She wasn’t exactly sure what that would be, but she was too close to success to worry about it at the moment. She had to believe that once she found the document, she could destroy it and all the plans Randolph Millstone had made to terminate her cushy lifestyle.

  For most of her life, she had gotten everything she wanted. Except herpes. Even now, she was not sure whether she had given it to Arthur or Arthur had given it to her. Either way, they were both contagious.

  Rowena chose an elegant white pantsuit, a white Prada satchel, Loren sandals by Gina, and a white Hermès enamel bracelet. Her hair was slicked back. There had been no time to get a professional blow-out for her hair. Not that she couldn’t do it herself. It was the principle of the thing as far as she was concerned. Her kind of principle. Why do something yourself when you can pay someone else to do it?

  The town car came around to the front of Millstone Manor, and the driver rang the bell for Rowena. She pulled on a pair of Versace sunglasses. She looked expensive. Almost intimidating.

  Nasty. Goes without saying.

  They arrived at Boston Logan Airport in plenty of time. Rowena checked in at the small office that accommodated the private and charter jets. It was so easy. Walk in. Walk on. No regular people. No screaming kids. No security. Not that she was doing anything illegal. Not yet.

  She boarded the jet with the company logo for Millstone Enterprises painted on the side. A huge M.E. She chuckled when she saw it. It hadn’t occurred to her before. It spelled ME. Indeed it is. Just. For. Me. Ha.

  She took a seat in the empty six-passenger plane. Even though it was a private jet, it did not come with all the amenities many others had. No big-screen television. No flight attendant. No champagne. Randolph had used it strictly for speedy transportation for business. If he had to go cross-country, he would take a commercial flight. It was cheaper and more comfortable. This aircraft was only for absolutely necessary short hops, not entertainment.

  Within two hours, the plane touched down at the Asheville Regional Airport. Another town car was waiting to bring her to the Stillwell Art Center. She had hired it for the entire day. The minute she got in the car, the driver started babbling. “So, y’all going to that new art center?” He looked up into the rearview mirror.

  “Yes.” Nothing more. Rowena thought that if she kept her shades on, he would not engage any further. She was wrong. He kept prattling about all the excitement of the new place and how they had raffled off a Lincoln, and who won and on and on. It became white noise in the background until he pulled up to the main entrance, and shouted, “I asked if you wanted me to wait outside, come back in an hour? You tell me, miss.”

  “I’ll call you. What’s your number?” He rattled off the digits as she plugged them into her phone.

  “Got any idea?”

  “Not really.” She sat there until he got out to open her door.

  Rowena entered the Stillwell Art Center, turning heads from all parts of the courtyard. She almost looked like a movie star. Almost. Or one might guess a high-class hooker, which would not be all that far from the truth. In spite of the amount of money she was wearing on her body, there was something about her that said fraud. Her clothes were authentic couture, but there was something about the way she walked into Silver & Stone that immediately got under Chi-Chi’s skin.

  “Good afternoon. Thank you for visiting my shop. I handmake all the items you see. All are authentic stones.” Chi-Chi swept her hand across the room. “Please. Look.”

  “Uh. Thank you.” Rowena couldn’t help but notice the gorgeous jewelry, but she was on a mission. “Everything is beautiful.” She pretended interest in a large amethyst piece. “That’s awesome.”

  “My friend is very fond of it, too.” Chi-Chi was getting a strange vibe from the woman. She retreated to the other side of the shop, trying to be inconspicuous.

  The woman in white turned and said, “Thank you,” and left the shop. Chi-Chi coolly watched the woman make her way over to Cullen’s showroom. Chi-Chi knew that Cullen was on an errand, so the femme en blanc would have to speak to Luna. Chi-Chi snickered to herself. If that woman is up to no good, Luna will suss it out.

  She saw the woman stop in front of the glass door of Cullen’s showroom. Cullen’s sign was hanging in the window, indicating that people should go next door to the Namaste Café for information. The woman went inside the café and looked around.

  Luna walked up to the striking woman. “Hello. Can I help you?”

  Rowena gave Luna the once-over. Big mistake. Luna caught every nuance and cocked her head, as if to say, So?

  “Oh, hello. I’m browsing for restored furniture.”

  “Anything in particular?” Luna asked. Most people were m
uch more specific. I’m looking for a mid-century desk, or I’m looking for a sideboard. Luna was immediately suspicious.

  “Oh, you know how it goes. You look around until something grabs your eye?” Rowena hadn’t rehearsed her spiel. She didn’t think she was going to have to go through a watchdog first.

  “My brother is running an errand. You are welcome to wait here. May I get you a cup of tea? Coffee?” Luna asked cordially.

  “Thank you. I’ll have a cappuccino, please.” Of course, Rowena would request something that took a little extra time. Not much, but just enough. She didn’t even like cappuccino. She just liked the idea that someone was doing something for her that took time and effort.

  Luna offered the woman in white a chair. “Coming right up.” As she turned, she caught Chi-Chi on the other side of the courtyard staring in her direction. Chi-Chi gave Luna an odd nod, but Luna got the message. Something about that woman. Luna had felt it the second Rowena had walked through the glass doors.

  “Is this your first visit to Stillwell?” Luna asked loudly over the machine while she frothed the milk.

  “Yes, it is.” Rowena didn’t want to offer too much information.

  “Are you from around here?” Luna was pretending to make small talk.

  Rowena wondered, Which one is this hippie-looking chick supposed to be, Cagney or Lacey? She almost laughed at her own joke.

  Luna caught the snicker. “Sorry? Did you say something?”

  “No. No. I thought I was going to cough.” Quick save.

  Luna brought the steamed coffee over to Rowena and set it down. “Can I get you anything else? Scone?”

  “No, thank you.” Now Rowena was thinking, This one is more like Aurora Teagarden from the Hallmark Channel. Sweet, librarian-ish. Rowena’s polar opposite.

  Luna decided to take the matter into her own hands and stood on the opposite side of the table from where Rowena was sitting. “So, I’m an artist. I do sketches.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rowena was trying to avoid Chatty Cathy by blowing across the foam on top of her coffee. What’s with people wanting to yack? Don’t they have any friends?

  “I couldn’t help but notice your profile.” Luna was about to go into her supercharming mode. “You have a very regal look.”

  Rowena perked up at the compliment. No one had ever said that to her before. Regal. She liked it.

  “Would you mind if I sketched you while you wait for Cullen?”

  Rowena was flattered. No one had ever asked her that before either. “Really?” She was fascinated.

  Luna knew that anyone who would dress the way Rowena was dressed had a high opinion of themselves. Not that wearing expensive clothing meant a big ego. It was the idea that everything Rowena was wearing had a logo on it. Look how much money I spent! was spelled all over her clothing, from Gina to Hermès to Prada. And it wasn’t that the workmanship didn’t deserve a high price tag, but Luna sensed that Rowena did it for the sake of bragging, not because she had any appreciation for the quality of the clothing. It was just a feeling she had about the woman, that’s all.

  “I don’t know how long Cullen will be. Maybe another half hour. That will give me enough time to do a rough sketch. Come over to the easel.” Luna nodded to the other corner of the café. “Make yourself comfortable.” Luna turned the easel around so Rowena couldn’t see what Luna was drawing. Luna realized she didn’t know the woman’s name. “By the way, I’m Luna. Luna Bodhi Bodman.”

  “I’m Ro . . . Roseanne.” She caught herself just in time. The flattery of being called regal and having an artist want to draw her had caught Rowena off guard. She admonished herself. She had to pay better attention and not let this imp throw her off her game.

  “Nice to meet you, Roseanne.” Luna began to draw. They were heavy dark circles. Then the song “Cruella de Vil” from the Disney movie One Hundred and One Dalmatians started going through her mind. How odd, she thought. “Huh.”

  “What?” Roseanne/Rowena had to ask.

  “Did a song ever pop into your head, and you don’t know how it got there? I mean, you hear jingles or songs, and they stick with you. They call them earworms, brainworms, sticky music. But this song just popped into my head out of nowhere.”

  Rowena wasn’t really interested. “Huh.”

  “Yeah. It’s the craziest thing.” Luna started humming the tune. Cruella de Vil . . . Cruella de Vi . . .

  Rowena didn’t know why, but she instantly became uneasy. Her skin was crawling, and her face was flushed. “Listen, I should probably go. I have a lot of things I want to see. Why don’t I leave my phone number with you, then Cullen can call me. That’s his name, correct?” Rowena knew darn well that Cullen was his name, but she was playing it for all it was worth.

  Luna was relieved that the woman was ready to make an exit. She didn’t know how she would explain the evil character on her sketch pad. Worst case, she would knock it over and spill coffee all over it. Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. “Do you have something I can write it down on?”

  Luna handed the woman one of the café’s business cards so she could write her number on the back. Luna looked down at the scribbled phone number and noticed the woman hadn’t written down her name. She wondered why someone with her obvious social standing didn’t have her own personal calling card. Another red flag. The woman’s body language shouted “uncomfortable” and screamed “deceitful.”

  Rowena thanked her and turned her attention to the courtyard. She had to kill time until that Bodman guy returned. After browsing both levels, she checked her watch. It was after four and there was still no word from Cullen Bodman.

  Rowena walked back over to the café. This time a dog greeted her at the door. Wiley had been in the dog park and was ready for a treat or a pat on the head. Rowena gave Wiley a snarly look, and he gave one right back at her.

  Luna noticed her dog’s body language, too. Wiley sensed something, and it wasn’t that he was about to get a doggie treat. Luna was getting nervous. It wasn’t so much that the femme en blanc was intimidating. No, it was more like bad juju emanating from her. Wiley got down on the floor and put his paws over his nose. He, too, wasn’t feeling a love connection.

  Rowena poked her head around the counter. “Hi again. Do you suppose I could browse around your brother’s place? I know it’s getting late, and I had hoped that he and I could chat. But meanwhile, could I maybe take a look?” Rowena was in a cordial mood.

  “Of course. No problem. Follow me.” Luna walked into her brother’s showroom, feeling apprehensive. The woman wouldn’t be able to steal anything by herself. But there was something suspicious about her. Luna would keep a close eye on Cullen’s place without making it look like she was spying. Which, of course, was exactly what she was going to do.

  Rowena meandered through the shop, pretending to admire several pieces. She casually worked her way toward the back, where Cullen had his workshop. She could always say she had gotten turned around if someone caught her. As she peered into the room, her heart skipped a beat. There it was. The table. The brass headboard. The old potting bench. Bingo! She had stopped in her tracks when a ding-dong sound indicated that someone else had entered the shop. She quickly moved back into the showroom area. It wasn’t Cullen or Luna. Just two browsers. She smiled and nodded to the couple. They nodded back. After a few minutes, they left through the door that led to the café.

  Rowena weighed her options. If the Bodman guy didn’t return before they closed, she would have to come back the next day. She didn’t want to risk time slipping through her hands. It would be risky, but she considered hiding in his showroom until after the art center closed. That would give her the entire night to go through the remains of the garage. There was a small lavatory in the back, so that solved one potential issue. Food? She decided she would go back into the courtyard and pick something up from the Blonde Shallot. Something she could fit into her purse. She stuck her head in the café. “Hi, again. I don’t suppose you’ve hear
d from your brother?” Stupid question, but she had to ask.

  “No, I haven’t. It’s not like him not to phone in.” Luna dialed Cullen’s cell phone number. She heard a distant ringing coming from his showroom. She followed the sound and found the phone on the desk in the back of the shop. She shook her head. Sometimes, he could be flakier than she. She walked back to where Rowena was standing and held up Cullen’s phone. “He forgot it.” Luna made a face.

  “I see.” Rowena tried not to act perturbed. “I’m going to grab something to eat. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “OK. We close at five,” Luna reminded her.

  Luna looked back at the phone and saw that he had messages. She didn’t want him to lose a potential client, but she didn’t have his password either. It would have to wait. She wondered where he was. He was supposed to be gone for about an hour. It had been closer to three. She didn’t feel as if anything bad had happened to him, but she did have a feeling of something. She thought it might be that mujer de blanco. But why? She watched the woman walk into the Blonde Shallot and noticed that Chi-Chi was also eyeing the questionable shopper. Chi-Chi nodded at Luna. Luna nodded back. They would discuss the situation after the center closed for the evening.

  Luna noticed that the woman exited the sandwich shop empty-handed. She couldn’t have wolfed down a panini in such a short amount of time. What was up with that? Perhaps she had changed her mind?

  Rowena made her way back to the entrance to the café. “I’m going to take another peek if that’s OK.” Rowena went back into the showroom. She checked her watch again. She doubted the owner would be back in the next five minutes. She had to make it look like she had left the premises. She noticed an armoire with caned panels. She could easily fit in there and be comfortable for maybe a half hour. Enough time for the sister to close up shop. Rowena stuck her head back into the café one more time and faked an exit. “I’d better be going. Please ask your brother to give me a call. Have a good evening.”