“Hey.” Nate dug something from his jacket pocket. He opened his big palm to reveal a small white satin jewelry box topped with a matching bow.
“What’s that?”
He gripped the lid with his thumb and first finger. “Are you ready to see?”
“Obviously.” I gave the elevator buttons another look. Second floor. One more to go.
He pulled the lid back and shoved the box in my direction. A two-carat cushion-cut diamond winked at me in the fluorescent overhead lighting. It was nestled in a plush satin bed that begged me to touch. The diamond-encrusted band probably raised the cost another thousand. “What do you think?”
“What do you mean?”
He snapped the lid shut and pushed the box into his pocket. “You know what I mean. Will she like it? Do not ask who or I’m leaving you here when we’re done.”
I processed the ring. His expression. The fact he’d told me this day was coming. “You’re really doing this?” Fear hitched my voice a few octaves. When she hadn’t shown up with a ring at work after he’d texted me a picture of a ring, I assumed he’d decided to wait before making another life-altering decision. Taking on REIGN and quitting his comfy job last fall were big adjustments. Adding a wife seemed like more than poor timing, possibly an act of lunacy. “When?”
“I don’t know. Soon. We’re having dinner at her new apartment tonight.”
She said she wanted to ask him to move in. Had she asked? “Her place is finished already?”
“No. We’re picnicking. Going over floor plans and details. I thought, maybe, while we’re already thinking about the future—” he raised his eyebrows “—that might be a romantic time to ask her to be my wife.”
My tummy dropped. Everything was changing. I hated change. I wasn’t good at adapting. I’d have been weeded out early in a Darwinian society. I took a long cleansing breath. “She’ll love it.”
The elevator stopped and the doors wobbled open.
“Really?” His expression was pure exhilaration.
“Yeah. Really. She’ll go nuts. It’s perfect.”
He stepped off the elevator and managed to look taller. “You should come over tonight. It’d be fun having you there.”
I jumped to safety and breathed easier. “I can’t. I’m working at the Faire, then working on some things that fell behind because of my investigation.”
“Arranging your books or Blu-ray collections again?”
The third floor of the ancient building was caught in a beautiful time warp. Everything from the high polished floors to the over-lacquered benches screamed of the nineteen twenties. The chandelier over the stairs had to have been original, but was completely restored.
Nate whistled. “I guess we know those building permits were put to good use. Looks like they started on the floor they use most. This is fantastic.”
Framed posters from the early twentieth century lined the walls. Ads for cigarettes and liquor were displayed beside others for dish soaps and coffee brands I’d never heard of. “I guess this is pretty cool.”
“You guess?” Nate barked a laugh that echoed around us. “You live for this retro stuff.”
“Well, don’t tell your friend or he’ll jack his price up on us.”
Nate flipped through files on his phone and handed it to me. “For example, what do you think of this old thing?”
I gasped. A snapshot of the most beautiful antique diamond ring graced the screen. The braided band was delicate and painfully feminine. The stone was a simple round solitaire, from a world where the promise mattered, not the size of the jewel, and I was in love.
“I thought so.” Nate leaned over the railing, admiring the regal staircase. “Why don’t we make buildings like this anymore?”
I returned his phone with a punch of jealousy for the woman who’d worn that ring. It wasn’t right for Fifi, but someone would fall in love all over when she put that on her finger. I joined Nate at the railing. “Times have changed, I guess. The craftsmanship here is beautiful,” I admitted, “but we’ve learned a lot in the last century. Architects build for efficiency now. Cost savings. Best use of space. There are lighter, cheaper, more durable materials to work with and stringent building codes.”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“Nothing’s really rhetorical.”
He tapped out a text before putting his phone away. “Time to meet the man.” He led me through an arching doorway with a Delecorte plaque attached.
The interior room boasted more of the same furniture and décor from the hallway. Black-and-white photos of the building over the years hung across the waiting room walls. Newspaper articles featuring the building were pressed under glass on the tables.
“Hey, Nate!” A man in brightly colored golf gear waved from a nearby office. “I’m just wrapping up. Make yourself at home.”
Nate waved. “That’s Wes Kennedy.”
“He founded Delecorte, right? How do you know him?”
“We met at a gamer convention two years ago. We talked about REIGN over drinks and wings. He couldn’t believe it when I called last month and told him I bought the game and could use some help.”
Wes and another man emerged from a small office.
I grabbed Nate’s arm. “That’s Josh Chan. The other guy is Josh Chan.”
Nate whipped his head around for a look. “Oh snap.”
“Don’t say that.” Adrenaline ignited fire in my veins. I needed to talk to him, but he’d already threatened to sue me for harassment if I tried.
Unless I lied about who I was. I chewed my lip. Fifi said lying on an investigation was called using a cover. I was a terrible liar. Could I pull off a cover?
The men moseyed past us to the door.
Nate gripped me back. “What do we do?”
Oh, what the hell. “Josh?” I called. “Josh Chan, is that you?”
Nate swore and ducked back a few steps. “What are you doing? Is that a British accent?”
“Shut up, I’m nervous.” And British, apparently.
Josh’s smile fell. “Yeah.” He moved closer, scrutinizing me. “Have we met?”
Behind him, Wes crossed his arms and smiled wildly. “What a small world.”
I stole Nate’s story. “We met at a convention, I think.” I snapped my fingers and pretended to dig through memories. “Vegas? No. Chicago? I can’t recall the venue, but I’d never forget that face. That was such a fun night. I probably could’ve done with one less chardonnay.” I did my best to imitate Fifi’s charming smile. “You founded Luminatti, right?”
He moved closer, unconvinced. “Yeah.”
I lifted and dropped my hands. “I love paper lanterns.”
He backed away, not taking the bait. “Nice to see you again. Best of luck.”
“Wait!” I lifted onto my toes. I couldn’t let him get away. “You were working on a deal with a television show?” I frowned. “I’m sorry I don’t remember the details. How’d that work out?”
Wes clapped Josh on the back. “That deal with Shop At Home made this guy a millionaire. Lucky for me, he needed some project management advice.” Wes showed a full set of used-car-salesman teeth. “He’s entrusted me with a major project.” He shook Josh’s shoulder. “These guys will be in good hands if they follow your path. Am I right?”
Josh contorted his face. “I’ve got to get going. It was nice to see you again, Ms....” He gave me distinctly challenging look.
I did my best to look sad and rejected. “Spiga.”
Nate choked.
“Right.” Josh Chan exited with no less than three looks over his shoulder.
Wes and Nate headed toward the office where Josh had been. I hustled after them and took the seat beside Nate and across from Wes. I’d taken a big risk and
got no reward.
Wes looked puzzled. “I thought your partner was joining you today. Ms. Connors?”
Nate struggled to get comfortable in his seat. We were no Bonnie and Clyde. “Mia was held up in another meeting. Ms. Spiga took her place.”
Short. Sweet.
We watched Wes’s face.
“Well, it’s nice meeting you.” He smiled at me.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sure I’ll have another opportunity to meet the yin to your yang, Nate.”
I took notes during the interview and kept my mouth shut when I had questions. Playing the secretary was bollocks. It was hard to think about REIGN when I’d been close enough to tackle Josh Chan and demand answers, but he got away.
Soon, Nate stood and shook Wes’s hand. “Thank you very much for meeting with us. We’ll get back with you as soon as we make a decision.”
I ghosted into the waiting area, imagining scenarios with Josh that ended differently. Sadly, they all came with harassment charges.
“Ms. Spiga.” Wes extended his hand to me. “I’m sorry your reunion with Josh didn’t go better. He’s normally a more pleasant fellow. I suppose that went downhill when you mentioned his Shop At Home deal, but you wouldn’t have known.”
I doubted he was ever more pleasant. Jake had warned me of Josh’s prior arrests for stalking behaviors. Maybe this wasn’t over. Wes had mistaken my quietness for dejection. I put my big owl eyes to work, looking as heartbroken and embarrassed as possible. “He was so happy about it when I met him. I thought he might want to talk about it some more. Maybe over tea.”
Wes cleared his throat and rubbed his palms together. “I probably shouldn’t say anything, but that deal was a real kick in the pants for him. He’d worked with the Shop At Home people for months with no offers. Eventually, he gave up and turned to a local entrepreneur for advice, funding, connections, whatever it took to get his product into consumers’ hands. Well, it was only a few days after he signed on with the new guy that Shop At Home called and made an offer for his product.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
“The new guy, the investor or whatever you’d call him—” Wes lowered his head and voice “—held Josh to their contract, which specifically stated that the investor was entitled to a chunk of all monies made on Josh’s product beginning the day it was signed. Not just a portion of the advance, but part of the revenue forever. Josh hadn’t even had time to use the investor’s funds or connections, and the guy was already laying claim to the Shop At Home advance. He refused to let Josh break the deal with him. He threatened to sue for breach of contract. When Shop At Home heard about a potential lawsuit, they told Josh to work it out or they’d be forced to pull the products. Shoppers don’t want to buy products with bad juju.”
I rolled the new information around. “So, the Shop At Home contract was a bad thing because it came too late. He’d already signed with Dante, and Dante got part of the money, so Josh ended up making a lot less on a deal he’d personally arranged.” That was dirty.
Wes straightened with a snap. “You know Dante Weiss?” Panic ran over his face.
“I won’t say anything,” I told him, momentarily forgetting the British accent.
“Thanks again,” Nate said, shoving me toward the elevator. “We’ll be in touch.”
* * *
I finished the workday in a haze. All I could think about was Josh Chan. What Dante had done to him was slimy and unfair. No wonder Josh was mad. Maybe even mad enough to kill. He had millions of motives, but figuring out where he was on the night Dante died wouldn’t be easy. He had no interest in talking to me by phone or email, and he’d seen my face playing the role of Ms. Spiga, his British stalker.
Overall, the meeting had been a disaster. Nate liked Wes’s plan for REIGN, but we couldn’t hire him. He thought I was Ms. Spiga the secretarial stand-in.
I parted ways with Fifi in the clubhouse lot after work. She had big plans with Nate. I owed my family some hours at the Guinevere’s Golden Beauty booth.
The sun was high in the sky and baking hot. Suffering from heat stroke at the Ren Faire wasn’t on my bucket list. I considered canceling due to a sincere lack of enthusiasm but knew I’d feel better once I got there. The Faire always cheered me up.
I hastened to my apartment, kicked my shoes off and grabbed a pale blue Queen Guinevere gown in the thinnest material available. According to my phone, I had eight messages. At least six of those were likely from my family members. I shimmied out of my work clothes and skipped through voice mails like a multitasking champion. Two from Mom. Three from Bree. One from Grandma. The swing band confirmed for the shower. Score!
I pinned my hair up. Grabbed my purse and locked up behind me. I’d see Mom, Grandma and Bree at the Faire.
I played the last message in the elevator on my way out.
“Ms. Connors, this is Congress Lake Catering. If you could please give us a call back, we need to talk to you about a delivery of unmarked blueberries we received. I’m afraid we can’t use unvetted berries. We’d like to return them to you, if possible, and move forward without blueberries on the skewers.”
“No, no, no.” I activated the callback feature and rushed across the lot to Stella. “This is Mia Connors, I’m returning a call about blueberries.”
“Thank you for returning the call so quickly,” an overly perky voice replied. “I’m afraid we can’t use the blueberries you had delivered. They aren’t from one of our approved vendors.”
“So what?” I gunned my little car through the Horseshoe Falls gate and headed for the highway. “Your vendors didn’t have what you need. This is when you’re supposed to outsource. That’s what I did. I outsourced.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Yes,” I nodded at the windshield. “Just put the blueberries on the skewers, after the kiwi and before the blackberries.” I mentally checked the order. “Or before the raspberries. I left an assembly diagram when we chose skewers as the fruit option.”
“I’m sorry. We can’t use your blueberries.”
I pounded one palm against the steering wheel as I eased into traffic going seventy on the highway. “Fine. I’ll make them myself. I’ll come by tomorrow and pick up all the fruits you have, assemble the skewers at home and bring them back for the shower.”
“No. I’m afraid we can’t allow any foods to be removed from the building and returned. It’s a basic safety precaution that allows us to retain control for quality. We could become liable, if, for example, the food was removed, contaminated and returned.”
I pulled the phone away to glare at it as I inched down the off-ramp nearest the Faire. “Why would I poison people at a party I’m hostessing?”
“I’m sorry. Just precautions. You understand.”
“No. I do not.” I couldn’t help but wonder if any portion of this particular rule stemmed from a baseless allegation against my family last fall. We hadn’t poisoned that guy either. “How about this? Can I come and assemble the skewers myself? Then, you aren’t using the unvetted berries, and I’m not removing food from the venue. My sister really needs these rainbow fruit skewers. They’re on her list, and they’re part of her Noah’s Ark theme, which is super important now because she just learned that she’s having twins,” I babbled. “It’s extra meaningful because she’s a twin. She’s my twin, actually, and that make this important to me too. Please let me do this. I don’t mind at all. Honestly.”
“Once again, I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, but only Congress Lake employees can work in the kitchen. Insurance reasons. What if you cut yourself?”
“Then hire me.”
“Ms. Connors.” She huffed, apparently fresh out of perk. “Our fruits can’t mingle with your berries. Period.”
I rolled my head against the seat. St
ory of my life. I showed my pass to the parking attendant outside the Faire and followed a long line of vehicles into the field for parking. “Fine. I’ll make them myself. I’ll buy all new fruit, prepare them at home and bring them with me. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”
“Yes. As long as you sign an outside food waiver relieving us from liability. We’ll still have to charge you for the fruit we’ve already purchased. We can’t take it back or use it for another event because it was purchased under the agreement you signed.”
I gripped the wheel until my fingers turned white. “Fine. Goodbye.” I poked the disconnect button hard enough to break my finger. I missed the satisfaction of slamming my phone down. Now, I needed to buy a carload of fruit on my way home, peel, slice and assemble two hundred rainbow fruit skewers before her shower.
A guy in coveralls was waving orange sticks up ahead. Parking was full and I was routed into the overflow area. I followed an unprecedented number of SUVs and minivans into no man’s land and parked with a mild curse. I beeped the doors locked, hiked up my skirts and trudged toward the faux castle gates with my chin held high. I was Queen Guinevere of Camelot and this was my domain. I remained vigilant as I moved. No lurking lunatics, but dozens of women wearing babies in pouches and pushing double strollers puttered between parked cars, moving toward the replica castle gates. Lots of pregnant women, too. Weird.
I passed a pack of mommies-to-be and darted into the Faire on the scent of dumplings and turkey legs. Memories of sweet and flaky pastries moved my legs into high gear. Miles of twinkle lights blinked to life, outlining shops, booths and trees. Another day nearly gone. I got in line behind a woman with a double stroller at Treetop Tavern and prepared my dinner order.
Fifteen minutes later, I sat behind the Guinevere’s Golden Beauty booth with a box full of everything that sounded good from the foodie section of the Faire. I texted Nate and asked him to please pick up my berries from Congress Lake and leave them outside my apartment door.
Grandma took my phone, then helped herself to a dumpling. “How’s it going with REIGN? Have you found a project manager yet?”
A Geek Girl's Guide to Justice (The Geek Girl Mysteries) Page 24