Kate momentarily sighed at the thought of getting to Hazel’s house tomorrow morning. She would have to push the time back in order to get her truck fixed. She would also have to start making arrangements with her many customers who needed repairs since she’d been putting them off for months until she’d finished the mansion.
“What’s wrong with your truck?” asked Maxwell.
“I have no idea,” she complained, walking into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. The long walk had her parched. “I’ll have to bring it into the shop tomorrow.”
As she returned to the living room, Maxwell helped Josie into her playpen, grabbed his backpack off the floor, and slung it over his shoulder.
“You need me tomorrow, right?” he asked on his way out.
“Can we say seven?” she asked, mentally calculating her schedule.
He told her that would be fine and said, “Have a good night!” on his way out.
Kate took a moment to drink down her glass of water, and then, after setting it on the coffee table, she picked Josie up and gave her a big hug.
“Let’s figure out some dinner, huh?” she said, bouncing Josie on her hip.
There were a number of food delivery menus in a drawer in the kitchen and as she rifled through the options, Josie cooing in her ear all the while, she heard someone knock on the front door.
She stilled, perking up at the sound and, after a moment, she answered the door, figuring that Maxwell had forgotten something.
But when she opened the door, she saw a black car driving off down the long and winding driveway.
She watched it, getting a strange feeling.
Josie pointed to the ground and said, “Bop.”
When Kate glanced down, she saw a large present with a big pink bow.
“That’s a bow,” she said to Josie, smiling. “Not a bop.”
The box looked about one and a half feet by two feet, and when she stooped to pick it up, it felt heavy.
She carried it into the living room after shutting and locking the front door and set it on the ground. She then sat Josie beside it and joined her daughter on the floor.
“What do we have here?” she said, as she untied the bow and opened the box.
There was a red garment inside. As she lifted it out of the box, feeling its satin material, she realized it was a tailored cocktail dress.
Hans Geoffrey came to mind.
Was he insane? Or was he just so rich and powerful that he thought the word no didn’t apply to him?
She realized there was a card inside so trading the dress for the card, she set the garment in the box and began reading the note: Lady in Red, will you dance with me?
It was then that she threw up just a little in her mouth.
“Ugh,” she groaned, flicking the card into the box. Her skin was crawling.
Quickly, she pulled her cellphone from her overalls, overcome with a strong urge to vent, and dialed her best friend, Carly.
“Kate?” She heard her friend say as soon as the call went through. “What’s up?”
“I think I have a problem, and I really don’t want to involve Scott.”
“You think you have a problem?” she asked. “What is it?”
“A billionaire is hitting on me,” she said frankly.
For a second she thought the line had gone dead, but when Carly finally responded, she realized that her friend was just as thrown as she was. “A billionaire is hitting on you?”
“He was the host of Dean Wentworth’s fundraiser the other night, and he was fairly forward with me then. He’s since asked me out—”
“Does he know you’re married?”
“It didn’t put him off,” she supplied. “And he just had a dress delivered to my house.”
“Romantic,” she said.
“I think you mean creepy.”
“I do,” said Carly quickly. “Not to mention a woman was found dead in his home.”
The statement gave Kate an idea...
“Kate?”
“Yeah, I’m just thinking.”
“You’re not thinking about putting on that dress and meeting him, are you?”
It never ceased to amaze her how well her best friend knew her.
“Kate, you can’t. What if he had something to do with that woman’s death?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be considering having dinner with him otherwise,” she admitted. “But maybe he knows something.”
“You have to tell Scott. Isn’t he coming home soon?”
“It’s hard to say. Until he catches the killer, I think it’s fair to assume he’s going to be more or less living at the precinct.”
Kate heard the distinct call waiting beep and glanced at the screen to find a number that she didn’t recognize.
“Carly? Can you hold on? I’m getting another call.”
“Sure.”
She switched over to the other line and said, “This is Kate.”
A deep and smooth voice wafted through the earpiece, saying, “What time should I pick you up?”
“Mr. Geoffrey?”
“Darling, we’re way past formalities. Call me Hans.”
She’d rather call him a jackass, but held her tongue.
“Do you like the dress?” he asked.
“I’ll remind you, I’m a married woman.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he said easily. “It’s part of your allure.”
Oh, God.
“I’ll send a limo in an hour,” he told her, having skipped over the part where she would have to agree. “Wear heels, but leave your hair down.”
“Anything else?” she asked dryly.
“Feel free to forget your panties.” She began coughing in sheer horror at his forwardness, and he asked, “Are you alright?”
Just dry heaving over here, she thought before saying, “I’m fine, and I won’t need an hour, and I’ll thank you in advance to keep your hands to yourself and your comments respectful.”
“Oh, I intend you respect you quite a bit. If I’m being honest with myself, I’d like to respect you in every room of my house and not let you go until you feel thoroughly satisfied with my particular brand of respect.”
What in the good goddamn is he talking about?
“Great,” she grumbled. “My daughter can’t eat solid food.”
He fell silent on the other end and after a moment, he said cheerfully, “I’ll make arrangements that she’s cared for.”
“She isn’t leaving my side,” she stated.
He let out a deep breath and said, “Very well. I’ll send a car in twenty minutes.”
“Make it five. It won’t take me that long to throw this thing on.”
“I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the opportunity of getting dolled up.”
“Five minutes,” she asserted before hanging up.
Quickly, she sprang to her feet with the dress in hand and rushed into her bedroom.
Scott had made a habit of leaving all kinds of police gadgets in a box in their closet so she pulled it from the shelf and sat on the bed. After tossing the lid aside, she saw a nest of wires and began carefully extracting a recording device. When she had freed the microphone, its wire, and battery pack, she set them on the bed and stripped out of her clothes. Once she’d thrown the dress on, she turned the device on and discovered it needed fresh batteries.
She found a pack of Duracells in the kitchen drawer and also a roll of clear tape. When she returned to the bedroom, she swapped out the batteries, clipped the battery pack to her underwear, and began taping the wire up her stomach and chest. Once the wire was securely braced against her, its microphone resting underneath her bra, she hurried into the baby room and collected Josie’s essentials—diapers, toys, and a change of clothes.
As soon as Kate was snugging Josie into her car carrier, she heard a vehicle honk in front of the house.
Quickly, she raced into the bedroom and slipped into the black heels she had worn to Dean’s fundraiser, tied
her hair up in a stout ponytail even though many locks were too short to fit, and then grabbed Josie in her carrier and set off through the door.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a limo, and she’d never been in one. The driver opened the rear door for her and she first set Josie in the carrier on the seat and then slid in after.
If only her truck hadn’t broken down. It made her nervous to know that she would be at the mercy of a driver to take her home. But she had no choice. She was determined to not only find out all that Hans Geoffrey knew about Cherry’s murder but also to record it as evidence.
The drive was pleasant enough. Josie cooed from her carrier, and the limo driver didn’t attempt to make conversation, which she appreciated.
When they reached the gate, the guard opened it without hesitation and they drove through. The driver pulled the limo around to the entrance and quickly hopped out so that he could open the rear door for Kate.
Night had fallen and she glanced at the sky, wondering if she had lost her mind.
One of Hans’s housekeepers opened the door for Kate before she had even lifted her hand to knock.
“Good evening,” the man said with a little bow. “Hans is expecting you in the dining room. Right this way.”
At least she was starving, she thought, as she followed the housekeeper through the grand foyer, her heels clicking over marble. Josie was staring with wide eyes at the lofty ceiling as they went.
When they reached the dining room, Hans entered from a door at the back. He smiled and approached, spreading his arms as though they might hug, but Kate held her free hand up, warding him off.
“Please,” he said, guiding her to the long dining table. “Have a seat. Can I offer you a drink?”
“I’m still breast-feeding,” she declined. It was the truth, but she was also in the habit of enjoying a drink then pumping and dumping, but she didn’t want to have any alcohol in his presence.
He scooted her chair in as she sat and then walked to the opposite end of the table, mentioning, “I knew you’d change your mind.”
She was afraid to ask him why that was so, instead she said, “I’m curious about you...”
“Are you?” he asked in a charming tone as he waved a waiter over. After telling the waiter, “Shiraz,” and waving him off, he locked eyes with Kate, grinned, and said, “What would you like to know?”
“How Cherry wound up dead in the coat room,” she said bluntly.
He let out a breathy laugh and laced his fingers together. “I was hoping you could tell me. What has your husband found out?”
It occurred to her right then and there that Hans might not be interested in her beyond using her to find out where the police were at with their investigation.
Gambling, she stated, “Dean told me everything.”
The smiled slipped off of Hans’s face, and he cleared his throat then asked, “What constitutes everything?”
“I know all about your history with Cherry, or Elaine Benson, I should say. I know all about how Taylor snuck her into the fundraiser. I even know about Taylor and Celia—”
“Celia?” he interrupted. “Celia Demblowski? Dean’s opponent?”
“That’s right.”
“What about Taylor and Celia?”
She could tell by his tone that he had no idea the two were involved. “Well, they’re living together at the moment for one.”
His eyes widened and he fell into deep thought.
“You didn’t know that?” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Taylor’s supporting Celia’s campaign.”
Hans slammed his fist against the table and she flinched.
“The traitor,” he yelled.
“Right now,” she went on, “it would seem that Taylor set you up along with Dean. All he had to do was kill her.”
“Taylor didn’t kill her.”
“How do you know?”
Hans locked eyes with her across the table. “Because I was with him.”
“You’re going to give him an alibi?” She laughed. “She died under your roof. Who’s to say you won’t be arrested.”
“I wish I could say he did it, especially now that I’m learning he was only involved in Dean’s campaign to perhaps find out his dirty secrets in order to use them against us. But as soon as I saw Taylor and Cherry arrive, I saw Dean greet them. When he rushed off, I approached Taylor and we went upstairs to speak. We were in my bedroom, which I’d love to give you a tour of, by the way.” She rolled her eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. “We talked for a good half hour before I came downstairs, dealt with one of my cooks, and then heard the event coordinator, Marcy Clapton, shriek from the coat room. When I peeked through the crack in the door, I saw you in fact. Taylor didn’t kill Cherry, and neither did I.”
“You could’ve killed her together,” she pointed out.
“But why would I?” he challenged. “To bring Dean down? I’ve given him half a million dollars; why would I sabotage myself like that? And even if I was crazy enough to do that, why would I kill Cherry under my own roof, where I could easily be suspected?”
She hated that he had made several good points. “Then who killed her? Celia?”
“It’s possible,” he said, his eyebrows shooting up. Soon a strange smile came over his face and he said, “I’m a lover not a fighter.”
She frowned.
Suddenly, the housekeeper shouted from the hallway, “You can’t go in there!”
Kate heard boots stomping toward the dining room door and as she turned she saw four police officers barging into the room.
In an instant, the wind was knocked out of her as Scott lumbered in after them, stating, “Hans Geoffrey, you’re under arrest for—”
Scott locked eyes with Kate and his jaw dropped. He began scanning the scene—Kate in a fancy dress, wine and candles at the table, Josie cooing from her carrier on the floor.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.
Standing, Kate said, “It’s not what you think!”
Chapter Seven
Scott was furious. He said nothing to Kate as he directed his officers to arrest Hans Geoffrey. He refused to look at her when he instructed Officer Taite to drive Kate and Josie home.
She waited up for Scott after putting Josie in her crib, but once it was after midnight, she felt too exhausted to keep her eyes open, and so she drifted off without ever having turned off the bedside lamp.
In the morning, she woke with a start. Scott was at the forefront of her mind, but he wasn’t in bed with her. She glanced around the room and there was no sign that he’d come home last night unless he had slept on the couch.
As she padded into the living room, however, she realized he hadn’t and sighed. If only he would let her explain. She hadn’t gone to Hans Geoffrey’s house to ignite some kind of affair. She had meant to collect information if not a confession.
In the kitchen, she scooped coffee into a fresh filter and got the coffee maker brewing, feeling low enough to justify indulging. Before she poured herself a mug, however, she breast-fed Josie while sitting in the rocking chair in her daughter’s room, fretting all the while about her husband, as well as her truck.
Things were not looking good for Kate.
And she was no closer to understanding who had killed Elaine Benson on the night of Dean’s fundraiser.
Once she had settled Josie into her playpen in the living room, she returned to the kitchen, poured that mug of coffee and found her cellphone on the coffee table in front of the couch. She sighed, scrolling through her cell phone contacts for her mechanic’s number, but when she sent the call through no one picked up.
“Arg,” she grumbled. It was too early. Her mechanic hadn’t gotten to the garage yet.
She drank her coffee, noting the time on her cell. It was a little after six in the morning.
She set her mug on the coffee table and made her way to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, she glanced out the window tha
t faced out front, and her heart skipped a beat.
Her truck was parked directly outside.
Immediately, she rinsed her mouth, grabbed her cellphone from the coffee table, and rushed outside with her keys in hand. She hopped in behind the steering wheel and turned the engine. It started up beautifully and settled into a healthy idle.
Quickly, she called Scott to thank him. He must not be so mad at her after all if he’d troubled himself to have her truck towed. But her call went straight through to voice mail. She couldn’t leave Josie in the house all alone for more than a minute, so she pulled the key from the ignition, climbed out, and returned to living room where Josie was struggling to pull herself up to stand inside her playpen.
Kate scooped her up into her arms and carried her to the couch. After sitting Josie on her lap, she composed a text message to Scott thanking him for taking care of her truck.
She needed to shower and get ready to head out to fix Hazel Millhouse’s kitchen chairs, but she felt like having one more cup of coffee. Besides, she didn’t want to miss Scott calling or texting her back if she was in the shower.
It took less than a minute to get Josie situated with a few toys in her playpen and refresh her mug in the kitchen. As she sat on the couch, she saw her cell phone flashing—an indication that she had a new text message.
It was from Scott and it said, “I didn’t fix your truck. Glad to hear it’s running, though.”
If Scott hadn’t taken her truck over to the mechanic, then who did?
She cringed, realizing.
Ugh, Hans.
She didn’t have time to let her skin crawl, but she was glad for the long, hot shower she would need to take before starting her day.
After stepping onto the cool tiles, having scrubbed every inch of herself clean, she wrapped a towel around her, walked into the living room to check on Josie—who was crawling around inside the playpen—and then hurried into the bedroom to get dressed.
By the time she emerged from the bedroom, having thrown on a pair of work jeans and a gray sweater, she heard a knock at the door. Even though she knew it could only be Maxwell, she walked quietly to the front door and peered out the side window, slightly paranoid that one of Hans Geoffrey’s men might be stopping by unannounced.
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