by Diana Palmer
She only nodded. She glanced at Violet’s empty desk and winced.
“I have an ad in the paper for a new secretary,” he said coldly. “Meanwhile, Mabel’s going to do double duty,” he added, nodding toward Mabel, who was on the phone taking notes.
“It’s going to be lonely without her,” she said without thinking.
Kemp actually ground his teeth, turned on his heel and went back into his office. As an afterthought, he slammed the door.
Libby lost it. She laughed helplessly. Mabel, off the phone now and aware of Kemp’s shocking attitude, laughed, too.
“It won’t last long,” Mabel whispered. “Violet was the only secretary he’s ever had who could make and break appointments without hurting people’s feelings. She was the fastest typist, too. He’s not going to find somebody to replace her overnight.”
Libby agreed silently. But it promised to be an interesting working environment for the foreseeable future.
Libby didn’t even notice there was a message on the answering machine until after supper, when she’d had a lonely sandwich after Curt had phoned and said he was eating pizza with the other cowboys over at the Regan place for their weekly card game.
Curious, Libby punched the answer key and listened to the message. In a silken tone, the caller identified himself as an attorney named Smith and said that Mrs. Collins had hired him to do the probate on her late husband’s will. He added that the children of Riddle Collins would have two weeks to vacate the premises.
Libby went through the roof. Her hands trembled as she tried to call Kemp and failing to reach him, she punched in Jordan’s number.
It took a long time for him to answer the phone and when he finally did, there was conversation and music in the background.
“Yes?” he asked curtly.
Libby faltered. “Am I interrupting? I can call you another time…”
“Libby?” His voice softened. “Wait a minute.” She heard muffled conversation, an angry reply, and the sound of a door closing. “Okay,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t get Mr. Kemp,” she began urgently, “and Janet’s attorney just called and said we had two weeks to get out of the house before they did the probate!”
“Libby,” he said softly, “just sit down and use your mind. Think. When has anybody ever been asked to vacate a house just so that probate papers could be filed?”
She took a deep breath and then another. Her hands were still cold and trembling but she was beginning to remember bits and pieces of court documents. She was a paralegal. For God’s sake, she knew about probate!
She sighed heavily. “Thanks. I just lost it. I was so shocked and so scared!”
“Is Curt there?”
“No, he went to his weekly card game with the cowboys over at Ted Regan’s ranch,” she said.
“I’m sorry I can’t come over and talk to you. I’m having a fundraising party for Senator Merrill tonight.”
Merrill. His daughter Julie was the socialite. She was beautiful and rich and…socially acceptable. Certainly, she’d be at the party, too.
“Libby?” he prompted, when she didn’t answer him.
“That’s…that’s okay, Jordan, I don’t need company, honest,” she said at once. “I just lost my mind for a minute. I’m sorry I bothered you. Really!”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, as if her statement unsettled him.
“I’ll hang up now. Thanks, Jordan!”
He was still talking when she put the receiver down, very quickly, and put the answering machine back on. If he called back, she wasn’t answering him. Janet’s vicious tactics had unsettled her. She knew Janet had gotten someone to make that phone call deliberately, to upset Riddle’s children.
It was her way of getting even, no doubt, for what Libby and Curt had said to her. She wondered if there was any way they could trace a call off an answering machine? A flash of inspiration hit her. Before Jordan would have time to call and foul the connection, she jerked up the phone and pressed the *69 keys. It gave her the number of the party who’d just phoned and she wrote it down at once, delighted to see that it was not a local number. She’d give it to Kemp the next morning and let his private investigator look into it.
Feeling more confident, she went back to the kitchen and finished washing up the few dishes. She couldn’t forget Jordan’s deep voice on the phone and the sound of a woman’s voice arguing angrily when he went into another room to talk to Libby. It must be that senator’s daughter. Obviously she felt possessive of Jordan and was wary of any potential rival. But Libby was no rival, she told herself. Jordan had just kissed her. That was all.
If only she could forget how it had felt. Then she remembered something else: Jordan’s odd statements about Duke Wright’s wife, and how young she was, and how she didn’t quite know she wanted a career until she was already married and pregnant. He’d given Libby an odd, searching look when he said that.
The senator’s daughter, Julie Merrill, was twenty-six, she recalled, with a degree in political science. Obviously she already knew what she wanted. She wanted Jordan. She was at his house tonight, probably hostessing the party there. Libby looked down at her worn jeans and faded blouse and then around her at the shabby but useful furniture in the old house. She laughed mirthlessly. What in the world would Jordan want with her, anyway? She’d been daydreaming. She’d better wake up, before she had her heart torn out.
She didn’t phone Jordan again and he didn’t call her back. She did give the telephone number of the so-called attorney to Mr. Kemp, who passed it along to his investigator.
Several days later, he paused by Libby’s desk while she was writing up a precedent for a libel case, and he looked smug.
“That was quick thinking on your part,” he remarked with a smile. “We traced the number to San Antonio. The man isn’t an attorney, though. He’s a waiter in a high-class restaurant who thinks Janet is his meal ticket to the easy life. We, uh, disabused him of the idea and told him one of her possible futures. We understand that he quit his job and left town on the next bus to make sure he wasn’t involved in anything she did.”
She laughed softly. “Thank goodness! Then Curt and I don’t have to move!”
Kemp glared at her. “As if I’d stand by and let any so-called attorney toss you out of your home!”
“Thanks, boss,” she said with genuine gratitude.
He shrugged. “Paralegals are thin on the ground,” he said with twinkling blue-gray eyes.
“Callie Kirby and I are the only ones that I know of in town right now,” she agreed.
“And Callie’s got a child,” he said, nodding. “I don’t think Micah’s going to want her to come back to work until their kids are in school.”
“I expect not. She’s got Micah’s father to help take care of, too,” she added, “after his latest stroke.”
“People die,” he said, and his eyes seemed distant and troubled.
“Mabel called in sick,” she said reluctantly. “She’s got some sort of stomach virus.”
“They go around every spring,” he agreed with a sigh. “Can you handle everything, or do you want to get a temp? If you do, call the agency. Ask if they’ve got somebody who can type.”
She gave him her most innocent look. “Of course I can do the work of three women, sir, and even make coffee…”
He laughed. “Call the agency.”
“Yes, sir.”
He glowered. “It’s Violet’s fault,” he muttered, turning. “I’ll bet she’s cursed us. We’ll have sick help from now on.”
“I’m sure she’d never do that, Mr. Kemp,” she assured him. “She’s a nice person.”
“Imagine taking offense at a look and throwing in the towel. Hell, I look at people all the time and they don’t quit!”
She cleared her throat and nodded toward the door, which was just opening.
A lovely young woman with a briefcase and long blond hair came in. “I’m Julie
Merrill,” she said with a haughty smile. “Senator Merrill’s daughter? You advertised for a secretary, I believe.”
Libby could not believe her eyes. Jordan’s latest love and she turned up here looking for work! Of all the horrible bad luck…
Kemp stared at the young woman without speaking.
“Oh, not me!” Julie laughed, clearing her throat. “Heavens, I don’t need a job! No, it’s my friend Lydia. She’s just out of secretarial school and she can’t find anything suitable.”
“Can she type?”
“Yes! Sixty words a minute. And she can take shorthand, if you don’t dictate too fast.”
“Can she speak?”
Julie blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Kemp gave her a scrutiny that would have stopped traffic. His eyes became a wintry blue, which Libby knew from experience meant that his temper was just beginning to kindle.
“I don’t give jobs through third persons, Miss Merrill, and I don’t give a damn who your father is,” he said with a cool smile.
She colored hotly and gaped at him. “I…I…just thought…I mean, I could ask…!”
“Tell your friend she can come in and fill out an application, but not to expect much,” he added shortly. “I have no respect for a woman who has to be helped into a job through favoritism. And in case it’s escaped your attention,” he added, moving a step closer to her, “nobody works for me unless they’re qualified.”
Julie shot a cold glare at Libby, who was watching intently. “I guess you think she’s qualified,” she said angrily.
“I have a diploma as a trained paralegal,” Libby replied coolly. “It’s on the wall behind you, at my desk.”
Kemp only smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
Julie set her teeth together so hard that they almost clicked. “I don’t think Lydia would like this job, anyway!”
Kemp’s right eyebrow arched. “Was there anything else, Miss Merrill?”
She turned, jerking open the door. “My father will not be happy when I tell him how you’ve spoken to me.”
“By all means, tell him, with my blessing,” Kemp said. “One of his faults is a shameful lack of discipline with his children. I understand you’ve recently expressed interest in running for public office in Jacobs County, Miss Merrill. Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t.”
Her mouth fell open. “How dare you…!”
“It’s your father’s money, of course. If he wants to throw it away, that’s his concern.”
“I could win an election!”
Kemp smiled. “Perhaps you could. But not in Jacobs County,” he said pleasantly. His eyes narrowed and became cold and his voice grew deceptively soft. “Closet skeletons become visible baggage in an election. And no one here has forgotten your high-school party. Especially not the Culbertsons.”
Julie’s face went pale. Her fingers on the briefcase tightened until the knuckles showed. She actually looked frightened.
“That was…a terrible accident.”
“Shannon Culbertson is still dead.”
Julie’s lower lip trembled. She turned and went out the door so quickly that she forgot to close it.
Kemp did it for her, his face cold and hard, full of repressed fury.
Libby wondered what was going on, but she didn’t dare ask.
Later, of course, when Curt got home from work, she couldn’t resist asking the question.
He scowled. “What the hell did Julie want in Kemp’s office? Lydia doesn’t need a job, she already has a job—a good one—at the courthouse over in Bexar County!”
“She said Lydia wanted to work for Mr. Kemp, but she was giving me the evil eye for all she was worth.”
“She wants Jordan. You’re in the way.”
“Sure I am,” she laughed coldly. “What about that girl, Shannon Culbertson?”
Curt hesitated. “That was eight years ago.”
“What happened?”
“Somebody put something in her drink—which she wasn’t supposed to have had in the first place. It was a forerunner of the date-rape drug. She had a hidden heart condition. It killed her.”
“Who did it?”
“Nobody knows, but Julie tried to cover it up, to save her father’s senate seat. Kemp dug out the truth and gave it to the newspapers.” He shook his head. “A vindictive man, Kemp.”
“Why?” she asked.
“They say Kemp was in love with the girl. He never got over it.”
“But Julie’s father won the election,” she pointed out.
“Only because the leading lights of the town supported him and contributed to his reelection campaign. Most of those old-timers are dead or in nursing homes and the gossip around town is that Senator Merrill is already over his ears in debt from his campaign. Besides which, he’s up against formidable opposition for the first time in recent years.”
Chapter Five
So that was Kemp’s secret, Libby thought. A lost love. “Yes, I know,” she said. “Calhoun Ballenger has really shaken up the district politically. A lot of people think he’s going to win the nomination right out from under Merrill.”
“I’m almost sure he will,” Curt replied. “The powers that be in the county have changed over the past few years. The Harts have come up in the world. So have the Tremaynes, the Ballengers, Ted Regan, and a few other families. The power structure now isn’t in the hands of the old elite. If you don’t believe that, notice what’s going on at city hall. Chief Grier is making a record number of drug busts and I don’t need to remind you that Senator Merrill was arrested for drunk driving.”
“That never was in the paper, you know,” she said with a wry smile.
“The publisher is one of his cronies—he refused to run the story. But Merrill’s up to his ears in legal trouble. So he’s trying to get the mayor and two councilmen who owe him favors to fire the two police officers who made the arrest and discredit them. The primary election is the first week of May, you know.”
“Poor police,” she murmured.
“Mark my words, they’ll never lose their jobs. Grier has contacts everywhere and despite his personal problems, he’s not going to let his officers go down without a fight. I’d bet everything I have on him.”
She grinned. “I like him.”
Curt chuckled. “I like him, too.”
“Mr. Kemp said they traced the lawyer’s call to San Antonio,” she added, and told him what was said. “Why would she want us out of the house?”
“Maybe she thinks there’s something in it that she hasn’t gotten yet,” he mused. “Dad’s coin collection, for instance.”
“I haven’t seen that in months,” she said.
“Neither have I. She probably sold it already,” he said with cold disgust. “But Janet’s going to hang herself before she quits.” He gave his sister a sad look. “I’m sorry about the exhumation. But we really need to know the truth about how Dad died.”
“I know,” she replied. The pain was still fresh and she had to fight tears. She managed a smile for him. “Daddy wouldn’t mind.”
“No. I don’t think he would.”
“I wish we’d paid more attention to what was going on.”
“He thought he loved her, Libby,” he said. “Maybe he did. He wouldn’t have listened to us, no matter what we said, if it was something bad about her. You know how he was.”
“Loving her blindly may have cost him his life.”
“Try to remember that he died happy. He didn’t know what Janet was. He didn’t know that she was cheating him.”
“It doesn’t help much.”
He nodded. “Nothing will bring him back. But maybe we can save somebody else’s father. That would make it all worthwhile.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It would.”
That evening while they were watching television, a truck drove up. A minute later, there was a hard knock on the door.
“I’ve got it,” Curt said, leaving Libby with her embroidery.
There were muffled voices and then heavy footsteps coming into the room.
Jordan stared at Libby curiously. “Julie came to your office today,” he said.
“She was looking for a job for her friend Lydia,” Libby said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“That’s not what she said,” Jordan replied tersely. “She told me that you treated her so rudely that Kemp made her leave the office.”
Libby lifted both eyebrows. “Wow. Imagine that.”
“I’m not joking with you, Libby,” Jordan said, and his tone chilled. “That was a petty thing to do.”
“It would have been,” she agreed, growing angry herself, “if I’d done it. She came into the office in a temper, glared at me, made some rude remarks to Mr. Kemp and got herself thrown out.”
“That’s not what she told me,” he repeated.
Libby got to her feet, motioning to Curt, who was about to protest on her behalf. “I don’t need help, Curt. Stay out of it, that’s a nice brother.” She moved closer to Jordan. “Miss Merrill insinuated that Mr. Kemp had better offer Lydia a job because of her father’s position in the community. And he reminded her about her high-school graduation party where a girl died.”
“He what?” he exploded.
“Mr. Kemp doesn’t take threats lying down,” she said, uneasy because of Jordan’s overt hostility. “Miss Merrill was very haughty and very rude. And neither of us can understand why she’d try to get Lydia a job at Kemp’s office, because she’s already got one in San Antonio!”
Jordan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent.
“She was with you when I phoned your house, I guess, and she got the idea that I was chasing you,” she said, gratified by the sudden blinking of his eyelids. “You can tell her, for me,” she added with saccharine sweetness, “that I would not have you on a hot dog bun with uptown relish. If she thinks I’m the competition, all she has to do is look where I live.” Her face tautened. “Go ahead, Jordan, look around you. I’m not even in your league, whatever your high-class girlfriend thinks. You’re a kind neighbor whom I asked for advice and that’s all you ever were. Period,” she lied, trying to save face.