“Oh, dear, he must have gotten the days confused,” Phoebe said, trying to sound flustered. “Can you check the rest of the week and maybe next week...”
A big sigh was followed by a “What was his name again?”
“Laughlin. Vance Laughlin.”
“Hang on.”
Disturbed that the woman didn’t even know a client’s name, Phoebe hoped this was strictly a case of incompetence. At least she was cooperating.
A moment later, the phone came alive again. “Nope, not here, not anywhere in the next two weeks. Do you know when he made this appointment?”
Anxious now, Phoebe said, “I believe the last time he was in the office. You could check Mr. Platt’s personal calendar. He might have made a notation.”
“Oh, no, honey, that’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s never been here before or I’d know him. I just figured Mr. P. made an appointment and entered it himself when I was on break or something.”
Uh-oh. “He’s tall, very fit, early forties.” Phoebe was trying to speak calmly, so her tension didn’t get through to the other woman. “Dark brown hair with threads of silver at the temples—”
“Doesn’t ring my chimes. Besides, we don’t have a file on him, which means he’s never been here, which means he’s not our client. Look, honey, you got the wrong law office.”
Either that or Vance Laughlin wasn’t the one who’d hired the lawyer to get his dirty work done. But that couldn’t be. Vance had to be the one behind the photographs.
“Are you certain?”
“As sure as my name is Dottie Rimes.”
No sense in arguing with the woman. Thanking her, Phoebe hung up. More to tell Simon...if she ever connected with the man.
She tried his home number one more frustrating time. Ten fruitless rings later, she slammed the phone down.
After seating a couple, Phoebe wandered over to the bar and slid onto a stool.
Kevin gave her a once-over. “You’re the picture of cheer this afternoon.”
“If I wasn’t working, I’d let you get me drunk.”
“Thinking about Audra?”
“I’m always thinking about her. I rarely think about anything else.”
She wasn’t about to tell him that Simon was practically her only distraction from the double murder.
“It’ll get easier.”
“I don’t want it to get easier. I want it to get solved.” She hated the pity she recognized in his gaze. “Yeah, I know, you think I’m on a fool’s errand.”
“So-o-o, things aren’t going the way you expected?”
Not having told Kevin about their close escape the night before—she neither wanted to hear an I told you so nor to worry him—she said, “Not exactly.”
“I take it you didn’t find this Bubba character, after all.”
“Oh, we found him, all right. He was hired to follow Audra through a lawyer, but I can’t make the connection to Vance. To make matters worse, I caught Jimmy Bob Dortch in Audra’s bedroom and—”
“You what?”
“He was removing some video equipment.”
“Jimmy Bob... stealing?”
“Or making X-rated home movies,” she said, still not convinced. “I don’t know what to think.”
She gave him a quick rundown of what had transpired between the handyman and her that morning.
Kevin reached across the bar and took her hand. “Ah, Pheebs, I can’t apologize enough—”
“Why should you?”
“I feel responsible. I recommended him to do the work. Tell you what. I’ll see if I can’t track him down first thing tomorrow. Maybe he’ll talk to me.”
“Thanks, Kevin.”
“Hey, what are friends for?”
She should have taken him up on his offer to help in the first place, three heads being better than two...
For the next hour, Phoebe kept herself busy seating dinner guests. Among them was the dark-haired woman her partner had been coming on to the night before. She noticed him stopping at the woman’s table. They talked for a few minutes before Kevin bent over and whispered something in her ear. The woman laughed and whispered back.
And so she was not surprised when Kevin approached her later, saying, “Hey, Pheebs, I have a chance for a hot date, but only if I can make it early.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes at him. “I suppose I can handle things around here,” she said with a mock-exasperated sigh. “Besides, you’ve been covering my butt for days. So, when she leaves—”
“Which seems to be right now.”
“Go on with her.”
“Pheebs, you’re a peach.”
“And you’re a walking testament to testosterone,” she muttered, slipping behind the bar.
At first, things ran smoothly, Phoebe splitting her time between acting as bartender and hostess, but her partner couldn’t have been gone for more than an hour before she had cause to regret his absence.
About to return to the bar after seating a party of six, she turned around and ran smack into Vance Laughlin.
Immediately, she flew back, her heart pounding like mad. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you...and here you are.” His visage darkened. “You have something of mine. No one takes what’s mine and gets away with it.”
Nearly panicking—thinking he’d known about the diary and had just found it missing—Phoebe tried to keep a cool head. “I told you I gave that locket to Audra when we were kids. It isn’t worth anything to you.”
“Screw the locket.”
Pretending innocence, she asked, “Then what?”
“Don’t play with me, Phoebe. You’ll lose.”
Her heart stalled out for a second. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vance. Furthermore, I don’t have time for this.”
She started to move away, but he caught her by the forearm with a cruel grip and spun her around.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, keeping her voice low, so as not to disturb the customers.
“I want that photograph,” he told her. “And I want it now!”
Phoebe gaped at him, speechless until he tightened his grip. And though she struggled, she couldn’t free herself.
“You’re creating a scene,” she said through clenched teeth.
He gave her arm a sharp twist that made her cry out and caught the attention of a couple at nearby table.
“I’ll do more than create a scene—”
“Let go of the lady before I break your arm,” came a low threat from behind them.
Phoebe glanced back to see Simon glowering at Vance, his narrowed gaze chilling. He appeared as dangerous as a man could.
And she’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life!
Chapter Twelve
Phoebe raised her eyes to the heavens and mouthed the words thank you even as Vance whirled around, asking, “Who the hell do you think you...”
His demand trailed off when he came face-to-face with Simon, and his grip loosened enough that Phoebe was able to pull herself free.
“The name’s Calderon.”
Stepping into Simon’s shadow, Phoebe realized she’d never seen her brother-in-law look so spooked. She swore his tan paled and his eyes opened in horror.
“B-but...you’re dead and buried.”
“As you can see, I’m very much alive.” Simon gave him what Phoebe thought of as an alligator grin. “Oh...you must be thinking of my brother Boone. I understand you were one of his biggest fans.”
Vance cursed under his breath, then focused back on Phoebe. “The photograph!”
“Time for you to leave now, Laughlin,” Simon told him in a voice as cold as steel. “Go pick on someone your own size. Maybe you want to start with me.”
To Phoebe’s delight, Simon exuded danger. An invisible power rippled from him, his intensity filling the space between them as effectively as if it were a tangible thing.
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And while her brother-in-law seemed torn about whether or not to take him up on the offer, in the end, he backed down.
“We’re not through,” Vance promised Phoebe, but it was apparent to her that anything more than bluster had been knocked out of him.
“Get lost, Laughlin,” Simon said in a voice low enough for only the three of them to hear, “before I decide to give you a hand straight into a swamp. I can make sure no one ever finds you.”
With another curse, Vance left.
And a relieved Phoebe sagged into Simon, grateful for the steadying arm he put around her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, now that you’re here.”
Realizing she meant it in more than the physical sense, Phoebe grew restless. Rubbing her arm where Vance had brutalized her, she pulled away from Simon and moved toward the bar.
“What do you think Detective Sandstrom would say if I told him about this?”
“He’d probably threaten to arrest us for violating Laughlin’s rights,” Simon said, following close. “So he knows about the photograph.”
“I can’t believe he figured out it was missing. What does he do, fetch the envelope every night, pull out the photos and gloat over his victims?”
“My guess is Bubba’s more greedy than we gave him credit for. He’s playing both sides of the fence, keeping his options open. I take it he hasn’t been picked up.”
“If he has, I haven’t been informed.”
Customer traffic had slowed now, as had the demand for drinks. They settled at the bar, Phoebe pulling a few beers, Simon drinking one. And as she worked, she filled him in on the situation with Jimmy Bob.
“The plot thickens,” Simon said. “Maybe I should have a talk with your handyman, as well.”
“Kevin already volunteered.”
He looked around as if just realizing Kevin was gone. “Where is your partner?”
“Making time with that woman he was flirting with last night.”
Simon raised his beer in salute. “Lucky man.”
“You could have been lucky yourself,” she reminded him, finally noticing how different he looked.
How good he looked—clean-shaven and wearing casual dress clothes.
“Maybe I’m more particular,” he said lightly. “And I want to be wanted for more than my body.”
His body was nicely accentuated by pleated linen trousers and a collarless, long-sleeved white shirt.
Phoebe felt a flush creep through her, but she wasn’t about to back down.
“Can’t handle being the object of a woman’s lust, huh?”
“I can handle it just fine.” His eyelids drooped to their bedroom mode and he inched closer to her across the bar. “As long as my partner admits to more.”
“What if there isn’t more?” she asked stubbornly.
He smelled good, too. She’d never noticed him wearing a scent before, but tonight citrus mixed with musk pulsated from his every pore.
No wonder she felt a little light-headed.
“Then I pity her.”
“Oh, please,” she muttered, fighting the attraction for all she was worth. “I don’t need this! Save your pity for misguided women like Audra or my mother.”
“What do misguided women have to do with you and me?”
“Nothing directly,” she said, wondering how the conversation had gone so far off track. “They just set bad examples. They give everything to a relationship and, in the end, they’re left with nothing to show for it but a broken heart.”
Phoebe couldn’t believe this. They should be picking apart everything they’d learned in an effort to prove Vance had murdered their siblings—or had them murdered.
“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” he asked. “And so you’re willing to chance nothing so you can protect yourself.”
“Let’s just say I’m smarter than other women in my family have been.”
“If you were smarter, you would pick better men. Instead, you’re cheating yourself.”
And Simon seemed intent on ripping her apart.
“So you’re telling me you’re a better man?”
The way he was looking at her put a lump in Phoebe’s throat. What in the world did he want of her? She was who she was. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone?
“How good a man I am is something for you to decide.” He pushed away from the bar. “In the meantime, I’d better get a move on. I’m already fashionably late.”
Remembering he’d made a date to have dinner with Boone’s ex-fiancée, Phoebe bit back an unwelcome urge to snap at him. “Right. From what I remember, Blair Ratcliff doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“That’s her problem.”
And Simon was becoming hers, Phoebe realized, fighting an unexpected urge to panic when she recognized the searing flare ripping through her to be jealousy.
“What’s the point?” she asked tersely.
“Of having dinner with a beautiful woman?”
“Well, when you put it like that—”
“I figure it’ll be interesting.”
“Right.”
“But I’ll be back to tell you all about it,” he promised.
“Don’t bother.”
“I thought you wanted to find a murderer.”
Phoebe gaped as the conversation came full circle. And decided to change her tune.
“What time?” she asked sweetly.
He smirked. “It all depends on Blair.”
And then he left.
Leaving Phoebe glaring at his back, wanting to throw something, and certain that Simon was purposely trying to drive her crazy.
THE WHARF HUNG OVER Naples Bay, nearly the entire restaurant having been built on its own pier. Simon entered via the street level bar nearly half-past nine.
He spotted Blair immediately. Surrounded by several others in her circle, she was holding court rather than blending into the crowd. And quite a queen she made, dressed in a chamois-colored dress that gave the illusion of nudity, and a stunning gold collar on which was set a large central topaz.
He knew she saw him but took pains not to recognize his presence. Obviously, she was waiting for him to interrupt, to make public his apologies for being late.
Instead, Simon parked himself near a potted ficus and waited for her to make the first move.
Which she quickly did.
With a smile fixed on her lovely face, she made her excuses and approached him.
“I thought you didn’t like staying up late.”
“Since you changed the time, I decided a nap was in order.”
“Good. Then you’ll be ready for...anything.”
He could tell she felt challenged. Good. Keep her on her toes, unaware of his true purpose.
Blair had already arranged for a romantic table for two. On the way there, Simon felt a half-dozen pairs of eyes following them.
“You’re giving people the willies,” she murmured, sounding pleased. “They think they’re seeing a ghost.”
“And you’re loving every minute.
Her smiled confirmed it. Obviously she got off on rattling cages, starting with the parents who hadn’t approved of her relationship with his brother. He recognized her type. She was used to having the upper hand.
Well, he was going to give it to her.
“So, Simon, what is it you do?”
“I live with nature as best I can.”
“Well, here in southern Florida, we all do to some extent.”
“But I do it in the swamps.”
Her eyebrows arched. “I see.”
“So, no potential here. Just shock value for the old folks.”
“Excuse me?”
“No need, as far as I’m concerned,” Simon assured her. “How long will it take Mommy and Daddy to find out you’ve done it again?”
Blair sighed. “They’ll probably be waiting up to lecture me.”
The arrival of a bottle of wine interrupted them.
Figuring that would probably please her—and deciding to choose his battles—Simon shrugged and raised his glass in toast. “Whatever is good enough for the lady...”
After they’d both tasted and commented on the quality of the wine, he steered the conversation back where they’d left off.
“I have a suggestion that beats boredom. Why not get a life, so you don’t have to try so hard?”
A frowned marred the perfection of her face. “I have a life, thank you.”
“I mean one that makes you happy. I’m a big believer in personal satisfaction.”
The frown lightened. “You sound a lot like Boone.”
“We were a lot alike.” And he was becoming more comfortable with that.
Blair sipped at her wine then looked out to the bay, dark but for the lights of docked boats and surrounding restaurants. “I did care for your brother in my own way.”
The first honest emotion Simon had felt from her.
“So you weren’t quite so blasé about the breakup as you tried to make me believe.”
“I am human.”
“It must have been embarrassing at first, having to listen to your friends try to comfort you.”
“I got through it by getting away from them. I took a cruise.”
“The Keys?”
“I always go for the exotic. The Bahamas... Jamaica... Haiti...”
“Haiti,” he echoed, the voodoo doll instantly springing to mind. “Interesting.”
“Very,” she agreed. “The scenery. The food. The culture.”
“Religious aspects,” he added as their appetizers were delivered.
Garlic shrimp, accent on the garlic. He bit back a smile and into his food.
Blair said, “I’m not exactly what you’d call a religious person.”
“I would think you of all people would be intrigued by the black arts. Santeria. Voodoo.”
“I was more interested in worshiping the sun during the day and being an object of worship at dance clubs at night.”
Simon let the conversation lull for a moment while they worked on the shrimp.
He even refilled their wine glasses before casually saying, “You really didn’t come into any contact with the black arts?”
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