A Box Full of Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  Mitch fell into step with her after a couple of long strides. He needed to know what she had stumbled across. “So where are you headed?”

  He could see she didn’t want to tell him. Not out of a desire to thwart the investigation, he thought. Something else motivated her. “Look, a man’s missing. Time isn’t our friend. Do you really want to play cloak and dagger?”

  Julia didn’t respond immediately. Finally she said, “Peter had an appointment at the Cloister the afternoon he disappeared.”

  “Who with?”

  “Chappie didn’t know. Only that Peter couldn’t bring the photos back by that afternoon because of this appointment. The client was only in town for the day.”

  “Huh.” They walked in silence for another block. “Was this the missed appointment?”

  “I don’t know but it would seem logical. Doug saw him just before lunch so we know he didn’t go straight from his meeting with Chappie.”

  “Doug saw him.” Mitch frowned. “At the office?”

  “Yes…” Julia hesitated. “I don’t know. I just assumed it was at the office. At the time no one was really worried about him being missing and it didn’t occur to me to ask where he had seen him.”

  “The appointment he missed, do we know who that was with?”

  “It was about something entirely different. A six month old case. Items missing from an estate just prior to the auction.”

  “Who was in charge of the auction?”

  “Sotheby’s.”

  Mitch whistled softly through his teeth. “That kind of auction.”

  Julia nodded. “That kind of auction.”

  “Any Russian art among the missing items?”

  “No. I have a copy of the file. Mainly expensive jewelry.”

  They walked around the corner and entered the parking garage. Julia stopped beside a classic Grand Wagoneer, its wooden panels gleaming, the paint pristine, and dug into her purse for the key.

  “Great car.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Five hundred thousand plus miles. The odometer broke during my last year of grad school.”

  Mitch thought of Doug’s expensive sport car. “You into classic cars?”

  “Not particularly. My grandmother gave it to me when I turned sixteen.” She slid behind the steering wheel and reached across to unlock the passenger door.

  Mitch got in and ran his hand across the expansive front seat. The car might be a thirty year old everyman American car but the leather was as supple as any new high end luxury automobile made today.

  They took the interstate and made good time. When they pulled up in front of the entrance to The Cloister two uniform clad young men whisked around the car and opened the doors.

  “Good morning, Miss Hampton.” The one on the driver’s side smiled broadly as he handed her out of the car. “Will you be staying long?”

  “No, Scotty. Park it close by, please.”

  Mitch watched this exchange then let his gaze roam over the structure before them before returning to Julia.

  She could see the speculative look in his eyes and she suppressed a sigh. For once, just once, she would like to be known as Julia. Plain, ordinary Julia, not Julia Hampton; not The Bank of Savannah, Julia Hampton; not the great-granddaughter of Richmond Mercer, Julia Hampton.

  She pushed the thought aside and entered the foyer of The Cloister. They were ushered into Scott Steilen’s office and he came around his desk to kiss Julia on each cheek and to shake hands with Mitch.

  When she told him what they needed, he immediately called up the guest log and confirmed that a Youngblood had been a guest at the resort on the day in question. Tallulah Youngblood. That fit with Peter Ryder’s scribblings on the file jacket. She arrived in the evening of the previous day, had a late meal in her suite and a massage the following morning. An SUV picked her up at ten and she was back and had lunch at the River Bar at one that afternoon. She checked out at four.

  “She’s the insured on the estate theft. I tried to reach her at the number in the claims file this morning but her assistant says she’s en route to Milan. She left New York last night,” Julia said. “There was no mention that she’d been in Savannah.”

  Mitch sat back in his chair and stared out the window at the immaculately landscaped grounds. “So the assistant didn’t say anything about an appointment with Ryder?”

  “No. She did tell me Ms. Youngblood was upset about the robbery because some of the pieces missing weren’t to be auctioned. They held sentimental value for the family.”

  “What were they?”

  She shook her head. “The assistant didn’t know.”

  Mitch sat in silence, his gaze once again on the view. “Where did she go while she was here? Do we know that?”

  The manager shrugged. “I can’t say. The car was privately arranged. Ms. Youngblood still has family in the area. Or she may have had other business, her lawyer, perhaps.”

  * * *

  The manager escorted them to the entrance where the bellhop went sprinting to fetch Julia’s car. He chatted with Julia about the charity golf tournament to take place at the resort in early October, inquired if she planned to make one of the foursomes, and held the car door for her as she slipped behind the wheel.

  Mitch was torn between the need to deal with the breach in Doug’s security and the desire to follow up on the trail of Peter Ryder’s disappearance.

  “That case file on Youngblood,” he said. “It might be helpful to review it and see if any items suggest Ryder’s disappearance is linked to it rather than the Russian art.”

  “I’ve looked and didn’t see any connection but a second pair of eyes might be helpful.”

  Mitch watched her as she drove. Her slender fingers gripped the steering wheel, the nails done in the palest blush of color. Her ridiculously feminine heels worked the gas and brake pedals. His gaze traveled up sheer stockings on shapely legs to the hem of her skirt hiked up enough to make him look away.

  “I need to get back to the office. I could drop by this evening and look through the file over dinner.”

  When she didn’t respond immediately he looked over at her. He could see her formulating a refusal.

  “Tonight doesn’t work for me.” She glanced at him then back at the road. “I have this thing, a family thing.”

  “Okay.” He felt his voice held the right level of indifference. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  He had her drop him at the courthouse and stood watching until her car turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Their ride into the city had become strained. He should never have suggested dinner. The idea clearly didn’t appeal to the belle of Savannah.

  Jones looked up when Mitch entered the office. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head and grinned. “Guess how Juliette found her Romeo.”

  Mitch dropped into his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m all ears.”

  “Couples Connection.”

  Mitch stared across the room at him. “What?”

  “A dating site. Couples Connection. Juliette,” he sat forward in his chair, “and that is her name, by the way, saw his profile on-line.”

  Mitch closed his eyes and shook his head. “Where is she?”

  “Interview room three.”

  Juliette was applying lipstick when Mitch opened the door, that same orangey shade that, according to Julia, was not her color. He had to agree.

  Mitch placed a file on the table and sat opposite her. “Juliette.” He opened the file. “I didn’t recognize you with your new hair color.”

  Juliette touched the springy curls of her hair, smiled, then her fingers went briefly to her roots. “Am I supposed to know you?”

  “No. But we have a mutual acquaintance.” He paused. “Viktor Letov.”

  “Viktor.” She slammed her hand on the table. “That snake. One day we’re engaged,” she raised her left hand, fingers splayed to reveal a sizeable diamond, “a
nd the next he’s gone. Poof!”

  “So how did you find him?”

  She sat back in her chair, crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I already told the other cop. Who are you anyway?”

  “An acquaintance, as I said.”

  “Acquaintance.” Juliette watched him in silence for several seconds. “Viktor doesn’t have acquaintances who are cops.”

  “And you came to the U. S. Marshals’ office looking for him because…” Mitch’s voice trailed off and he waited.

  Finally Juliette threw up her hands. “That one with the bald head. I saw him with Victor in Tampa. He was on the street today, sitting at a sidewalk table at a coffee shop.” She shrugged. “I followed him here.”

  “Why did you come to Savannah? Did Viktor get in touch with you?”

  Her fury returned in a rush. “A year! Almost. Not one word. I had people breathing down my neck, watching my every move.” She looked away and blinked rapidly.

  Mitch had no doubt that the search for Viktor had been very thorough and violent. “I still don’t know why you thought you would find him here.”

  “Duh. The internet.”

  “Sorry?”

  “His profile picture? Couples Connection?” Her lip trembled then she got angry all over again. “He thinks he can just walk out on me without a word and disappear while all his goon pals go nuts looking for him?” She shook her hair back from her face. “Well, I showed him.”

  “How, Juliette? How did you show him?”

  Her look was one of pure malice. “The Ferrari. I saw it parked on the street.” She stared into Mitch’s eyes. “He won’t be taking any antique car enthusiast for a ride in it now.”

  “So you’re the artist.”

  The corner of her mouth curled up in a half-smile. “I ran out of room but the message reads the same either way.”

  Mitch couldn’t help but smile back.

  Jones opened the door and motioned for Mitch to join him outside the room. They had the Couples Connection website up on the computer.

  Mitch swore under his breath as he read Doug Heinz’s profile. “We’ve got to disappear Pretty Boy. Again.”

  He looked up as Handel entered the office. “I’ve lost him.” The deputy wiped the perspiration from his shiny pate. “He went into a high end men’s clothing store and never came out. The clerk said he picked up a tuxedo he purchased yesterday and wanted to go out the back where his car was parked.”

  Mitch stared at the computer screen and let this tidbit of information filter through his mental files. He glanced at Handel, then Jones. “All the usual places, boys.”

  “And you?” Jones asked as he unlocked his desk drawer to retrieve his gun.

  “A hunch.”

  Chapter Six

  I’m not sure why Julia keeps showing me different dresses. They look pretty much the same to me, but then my perception of the colors in the spectrum isn’t that of a human. Okay, so I have one small failing compared to bipeds but there is the consideration of my superior night vision to tip the scales back in my favor.

  I do like the shimmery look of this one, though. It seems she has made a decision at last but now comes the difficult part. She has opened the safe wherein lies row upon row of footwear. There are a few shiny baubles as well but mainly shoes. It seems odd to keep shoes in a safe but then it also seems odd to have so many pairs. I can see this will take some time so I will leave her to it and make a swing through the kitchen. Perhaps she will take the hint.

  Alas, there isn’t even a stale cracker crumb to be found so I return to the window ledge to catch the last rays of the setting sun and check the street for curiosities and villains. The street is quiet but here comes a familiar car. I do believe the Lawman is about to pay a visit. But, no, he is simply sitting in his car all the way at the end of the block. Curious.

  From the exasperated sounds coming from Julia I conceive that she isn’t best pleased with her appearance but I can see nothing wrong in the final result of her grooming and putting her hair up, then down, then up. The earrings catch the light and the dress sighs softly when she moves. She has narrowed her shoe choice to three pairs. All in all, a far less indecisive procedure than her usual morning routine.

  The Lawman still sits in his car down the block and here comes a long black town car. It has stopped in front of the building. Julia’s cell phone rings and she answers, says okay, and hangs up. She chews at her lower lip then picks the middle pair of shoes to slip her feet into before she heads for the apartment door. So she isn’t expecting the Lawman nor is he to be her escort for the evening but he is up to something. I must hurry before the opportunity to discover what is lost.

  Julia has either lowered the window more than usual or a diet of Roquefort cheeseburgers and sushi is having an adverse affect on my physique. I barely squeeze through the opening, race along the molding, slide down the canopy, and drop to the garden wall before Julia settles into the backseat of the town car. It is a sprint to the Lawman’s car but I make it just as he starts the motor. With one powerful spring from my hind legs I leap through the open window of the automobile before he pulls away from the curb.

  “Now, wait a minute,” he says. “You’re not going with me.”

  He reaches across the seat to grip me by the scruff of my neck and I jump into the back and out of reach.

  “Damn cat,” he says under his breath as he pulls out into the street and follows after the town car.

  I hardly think the epithet appropriate but I will allow him this one faux pas. Besides, I need him and his automobile to see what is going on with Julia. Clearly it is something that could put her at risk or the Lawman wouldn’t be acting in such a clandestine manner. I do believe he has fallen under her spell. Quite understandable, of course, as she is a beautiful specimen of a biped and quite charming. I confess she puts me in mind of the lovely Veronica, a feline of such refinement and attitude that it makes my heart pit-a-pat to remember her luxurious, long, white fur and that lovely evening together. I can hear the sound of her sexy purr even now all these months later.

  But enough, I must have my wits about me if I’m to determine what has brought the Lawman to Julia’s door. The break-in is part and parcel of the matter, of that I’m sure. My instincts tell me that her work has drawn her into something bigger and more dangerous than art theft. The Lawman knows this and thus his opportunistic appearances on the scene. I must discover what is at the heart of the matter.

  We quickly leave the historic district behind and soon come upon a large expanse of manicured green lawn on our right. The town car turns into a drive marked by gas lanterns and stops in front of a one story brick building with a chimney on either end reminiscent of the Federal style, and a Georgian portico over the front entrance. A liveried young man emerges to assist Julia from the automobile. All very posh, I must say.

  The Lawman seems in a quandary about how to approach the situation. He sits with his car motor idling until Julia disappears inside and the town car pulls away from the entrance. He follows the town car to a parking area, parks, and looks in the rearview mirror at me. I can see him coming to a decision and I’m sure I won’t like it. I must be ready for action at the first opportunity.

  He lets up the windows of the car to mere slits and opens his door. Before he can get free of the vehicle, I dash over the seatback, out the open door, and across the parking lot to the building. I do believe my keen hearing has detected an obscenity from the Lawman but I shall ignore it and proceed with resolving the mystery at hand.

  * * *

  Mitch dismissed all thoughts of the cat as soon as he was out of sight. Trouble would either turn up or not. It wasn’t a matter high on his list of concerns at the moment. Julia was all decked out in a heart stopping gown and Doug Heinz had purchased a penguin suit. It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out the two of them would end up at the same place at the same time. The problem, as he saw it, was how to extract Doug from the swanky Savannah Golf Club without
creating a scene.

  He decided a reconnoiter of the premises was in order. Only a fool walked into a hostile situation without knowing his options.

  A turn to the right took him to the rear of the Club. From there, a view of the golf course opened up and the rise and fall of berms constructed during the Civil War created a lovely setting landscaped in lush green fading into twilight. There were tennis courts off to one side of the building and a veranda invited guests to take advantage of the rocking chairs and enjoy a beverage.

  Mitch found the swimming pool. It was empty of swimmers in the gloaming of the day. Multiple doors opened into the main building and he returned to the veranda. It seemed the easiest and most logical point of entry for an uninvited guest.

  An older woman stood on the veranda; the tip of her cigarette glowed in the fading light. Mitch could feel her gaze on him as he mounted the steps. He continued as if he had every right to be there.

  “I guess someone forgot to tell you it was black tie.”

  She had a deep voice, a voice that didn’t match her diminutive stature or her extreme thinness.

  “I guess so.”

  She chuckled. “It’s been a long time since a handsome young man crashed one of Woodrow’s stuffy parties.” She linked her arm with his. “Well, come on then. I suppose it’s Julia you’re after.”

  “Julia?”

  “My niece. I’m Ethel Hampton.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hampton.”

  “Miss Hampton, much to my great nephew’s chagrin.”

  Mitch wasn’t sure how to respond to that so he asked, “What’s the occasion?”

  “Ritual scalp taking.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Boring. Until now.” She led him through the open French doors and turned off the wide hallway into a good sized room.

  Waiters in white jackets passed among the guests with trays of champagne in cut glass flutes and tidbits of food that looked like works of art. Several groups of older men stood around looking bored as they exchanged desultory comments. The women tended to gather in small clusters with an occasional man thrown into the mix. One group of men was more animated than the others and at its center was Doug Heinz.