Tahoe Blues

by Lane, Aubree

  Cara began to giggle. “You would have made it on candid camera and become our number one suspect. I would have loved to have heard that explanation in front of the lynch mob.” Then Cara retracted her stance. “Actually, I’m extremely grateful that you didn’t return it until now. David and Hunter saw too much of me as it was. They’re probably still talking about a few things. It’s amazing how many times you walk through your house naked when you don’t think anyone is watching.”

  Tanner wagged the pink vibrator with three speeds of rotating beads in front of Cara’s face. “What do you think, Cara Lee? Shall we play with the bunny?” He flipped the switch, and the sound of the motor vibrating the long ears broke the still of the night. The device was much louder than Tanner expected, and he quickly snapped it off.

  “Holy crap that thing is noisy.” he chuckled nervously. His head fell back onto the pillow, and his lungs began to heave. Cara could feel his heart thumping beneath her hand. Tanner stared at the ceiling for a long minute before he said, “Okay, now I feel self-conscious. I’m good with waiting until we get back home.”

  Cara covered her face with her hands and shook with silent laughter. For all his bravado, her tool-man was a prude at heart. Sex or no sex, she enjoyed this man.

  The only reason they returned to Tahoe was because Tanner was still leery about his new assistant. Mrs. Grimes was keeping an eagle eye on Lisa Hill and had reported to Tanner on a regular basis, but he needed to make sure Mrs. Grimes’ assessment of the fiery redhead was correct before her probationary period ended.

  Cara no longer cared if he kept the woman on or not. Tanner seemed to be immune to her, and Cara decided she wasn’t going to waste another moment worrying.

  Cara looked over at Leah, who remained stoically on the dock. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

  “If that crazy lady is driving, I don’t want any part of it. Come back for me when she’s no longer in the driver’s seat.”

  Mrs. Grimes poo- pooed Leah’s concerns. “Girly, I’ve done this a million times. It’s just like riding a bike.”

  Leah rolled her eyes. “And the last time you were on a bike was... when?”

  Suddenly a little nervous about letting the old woman maneuver out of the harbor, Cara asked again, “Are you sure you can do this Mrs. Grimes? I’ll be happy to get us out past the buoys, then I’ll let you take control.”

  Mrs. Grimes reached down and turned the key. “Nonsense. Are all the lines aboard?”

  Erin threw in the last rope. “We’re ready to go.”

  “Slowly now,” Cara warned. “Until we get past the buoys we are in a five mile-per-hour zone.” She stood behind Mrs. Grimes, ready to take control of the throttle if the old woman went too fast. Tanner sat in the passenger seat, and Erin stood behind her brother with her hand resting on the back of his chair.

  Mrs. Grimes pulled the throttle back and began to expertly putter out of the harbor. Just as Cara was beginning to believe everything was going to be fine, they passed the buoys. Mrs. Grimes whooped for joy and yanked the controls into overdrive.

  Cara was able to grab hold of the back of Mrs. Grimes’ seat, but Erin was not so lucky. In an instant, her body was pitched over the side and into the crisp clear water of Lake Tahoe. Cara had to overcome the G force in order to turn her head to check on Tanner’s little sister.

  Erin popped to the surface and held up her thumb, indicating she was alright, then she turned and freestyled her way back to shore.

  It was a good thing Erin was okay, because Mrs. G was oblivious to everything else around her. An insanely high pitched laugh radiated out across the lake and other boaters scrambled to get out of the crazy manic path of destruction.

  Cara kept an eye out for any sign of real danger. Mrs. Grimes was having the time of her life. Cara didn’t want to take that away from her, but she also needed to get everyone home safe and sound. Five more minutes of sheer lunacy was all she was prepared to allow.

  Tanner’s body was pinned back into his seat. One hand clenched the railing, the other hand gripped the bottom of the chair, and his eyes were wide with fright.

  Leah reached out a hand and helped Erin back up on the dock. “Are you okay?”

  Erin grabbed her long blonde locks and squeezed out the excess water. “That old lady is bonkers. She could have killed me.”

  Leah was right there with her. “I tried to warn you. If I know Cara, she’ll be shutting Mrs. Grimes down any moment. She has a lot of experience dealing with immature daredevils.”

  Erin burst out laughing. It wasn’t hard for her to imagine. Most of her male counterparts at UCLA were more child than man, and she couldn’t imagine that Cara’s students were any better. “I wish I could have seen LOLA. My biology professor would have been so jealous.”

  Leah cocked her head questioningly. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned your biology professor.” She shot Erin a sly wink. “And I’m pretty sure you aren’t smitten with him because of his teaching skills.”

  “Don’t you dare say anything like that when TJ is around,” Erin chuckled. “I have enough trouble with him as it is.” A sly little twinkle lit up her eyes. “But you’re right. He’s very good looking, for an older guy.”

  “Did you know your brother and I went to high school together? He was the older guy for me, not that he even knew I was alive, he only had eyes for Kate.”

  Erin nodded, but she didn’t want to talk about the ghost of Christmas past. She could still hear all of Kate’s motherly advice bouncing around in her head and very little of it meshed with any of her recent decisions.

  “Could you tell Tanner I’ll see him back at his place? I’ve had enough water for one day.”

  Leah nodded and Erin made her way up the dock towards the parking lot. When she reached the Crow’s Nest Restaurant, Erin turned and scanned the lake for the ski boat. She caught sight of it about a mile or so out. Mrs. Grimes was still in control, cutting quick zig-zags in and out of the traffic. A moment later she heard her brother squeal like a little girl. “We’re gonna die!”

  Cara must have killed the engine, because the boat suddenly bounced slowly over the wakes and drifted dead in the water.

  The next thing Erin heard was Mrs. Grimes screeching, “Dang it, TJ! Why do you have to be such a baby? Cara took my keys away.”

  ~~~**~~~

  Leah stood on the dock shaking her head. The last few weeks had been pure madness. Besides Cara’s full exoneration, the CEO of Bellissimo Abito had been indicted right along with Inga Alexander for money laundering and racketeering. Leah’s suppliers who hadn’t given her the time of day in recent months, were suddenly bending over backwards to get her business back.

  Mark Porter was leaving his wife, and now that they had been properly introduced by Cara in front of all her friends, Mark and Leah no longer had to keep their association a secret.

  Just like the volcano which erupted and changed the landscape millions of years ago. The Tahoe Basin was once again being recreated. Leah looked forward to the future, even though the famous Alexander Gala, the event which supported her business for the rest of the year, was in jeopardy. Leah knew Baily’s Boutique was probably going to have to switch focus and start catering to a middle class clientele since the upper class proved to be so much trouble.

  The world was always changing. It was the one thing you couldn’t stop, so Leah decided she’d just go with the flow.

  ~~~**~~~

  Brett Boden drove his truck off the ferry and onto Victoria Island in Canada. The eight day voyage from Seattle through the Puget Sound and in an around the San Juan Islands had been one of the most wondrous adventures of his life. The days were clear and the cruise had met nothing but blue skies and calm seas. The small islands the ferry passed were more lush and green than anything Brett had seen in the Tahoe area in the past thirty-five years of his residency, and the wildlife far more spectacular. Whales and sea lions had been a common sight off the port bow, whil
e the majestic hawk soared above.

  He hated leaving Cara and what she was facing alone, but he had tried to warn her. When she didn’t run as he advised, the only thing left he could do to help her was to hide the conversation he had inadvertently recorded between Inga Alexander and one of the kids in Cara’s class, and hope for the best. For days he had worried that Leah would fail to give Cara his message and had penned a letter with the same cryptic message. He’d been relieved when he learned through the media that Leah had promptly come through and the duo had quickly figured out his cypher.

  Brett didn’t view himself as a coward, but he knew his life would be in danger if he turned the information over to the police. Not knowing who he could trust or where to turn, he deposited his phone within the Laffin’ Coaster sculpture Cara hated so much.

  For the next two years he would be working with a fellow artist on a sculpture commissioned by the Royal BC Museum. A friend and sometime romantic interest, Selma Ditter, had won a competition to sculpt a huge statue to place at the museum’s entrance, and she had asked Brett to come on as her assistant. Working as a sidekick was not something he was interested in, but it was more desirable than hanging around Tahoe and testifying against the Alexanders.

  Tahoe had become much too hot to handle for the artist who had spent his life building his reputation as an internationally known artist. Brett’s greatest fear was that he would wind up in the Witness Protection Program and never be able to sculpt again. Spending a couple of years outside the United States and working for a drop dead gorgeous and talented woman seemed a far better option.

  ~~~**~~~

  Duncan Alexander gazed out of the massive window in his office at the Cascade Bay Resort and Casino. The grand luster of his kingdom had been tarnished. The woman who had given him life, with a heritage rooted in back room deals and underhanded schemes, had stayed true to form and risked it all, simply because his wife had left him.

  Ironically, Cara had called and offered him the services of her lawyer. Even more ironically, Duncan had accepted. Martin Langley now served as council for the defense for Inga Hanson Alexander. Martin and his crew uncovered the clues which had led to his mother’s undoing and no one else on earth was better prepared to defend her.

  The artist who had been instrumental in the family’s downfall had not surfaced, but the information he left behind on his cell phone had pointed federal investigators in the right direction. Duncan knew his mother had taken after her mobster grandfather, but he hadn’t realized how far she reached into the local government’s pockets on both the California and Nevada side of the boarder. The list of indictments against her was growing daily.

  Duncan closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. There were so many decisions he would eventually have to make, and he had no idea how to deal with his brother-in-law’s indiscretion. Mark Porter’s lack of loyalty could not go unpunished, but Duncan no longer had the heart. The old rules which had been ingrained in him since birth no longer seemed to apply.

  His sister had not been pleased with her husband’s involvement with Cara and her merry band of misfits. Although he hadn’t spoken to her directly, different sources had advised him that Mark was in the process of moving out of the family home.

  That spoke volumes, the dissolution of his sister’s marriage was most likely imminent.

  Duncan heaved a great sigh and sat down behind his desk. All the family’s accounts had been frozen, pending a forensic accounting, and his schedule had been cleared for the foreseeable future. He drummed his fingers impatiently upon the rich grain of his teak desk.

  The once great Duncan Alexander had absolutely nothing to do.

  The intercom buzzed and Duncan pushed a button. “Yes, Sarah. What news agency wants to speak with me now?” he barked harshly.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is an Erin Reed here to see you.”

  A slow smile curved on his lips as he remembered the dance he shared with the beautiful blonde at the gala.

  As long as he was able to stay clear of her brother’s mean right hook, then perhaps he had something to do after all.

  The End

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  Also by Aubree Lane

  Early One Morning

  The paint in Mrs. Barrington’s living room had dried to a putrid shade of chartreuse, the electrician hadn’t shown up, and the floor guy was running way behind schedule. Annie looked at the ghastly color and moaned. Mrs. Barrington was not going to be pleased. This was the second time the room had been painted and this color was much worse than the first.

  Numbers ran through her head as she calculated the cost of having it painted one more time, and wished Mrs. Barrington would stop being so helpful. The woman simply didn’t possess the vision to see how a small paint sample would look in large amounts. Wasn’t that the reason she hired Annie in the first place?

  Annie closed her eyes against the onslaught. She felt as if she were inside a tube of minty-fresh toothpaste. If she’d been allowed to do her job, she and her crew would have been out of here ages ago. Instead, they were months past the projected end date, and hardly any progress had been made in this massive remodeling project.

  Annie was worn out. Most clients were problematic in their own way, but Mrs. Barrington was one of a kind and the pressure of consistently living up to her reputation as the elite designer in San Diego, who came in under budget and on time, was draining the life out of her.

  Budget problems were never an issue, because of her reputation people expected to pay more and Annie was happy to oblige. The challenge was finishing in a timely fashion. No matter how much leeway she gave herself, it was never enough. Most of the problems occurred from the sub-contractors she had to hire. Over the years, Annie had come to the conclusion that somewhere in the contractor’s manual there was a stipulation that they had to be unreliable and flaky.

  Of course, that was a drastic over-simplification of the problem. There were plenty of reputable contractors out there but they were in demand and their time was stretched just as thin as Annie’s. Even if you had every aspect of your project planned out to the exact millisecond, the first time a tool broke or a delivery didn’t show up, all that planning and preparation would become worthless. Contractors would move on to their next job and start bouncing back and forth between assignments trying to keep everyone satisfied, which was impossible. It was a horribly frustrating way to do business, but Annie certainly couldn’t afford to have workers standing around with nothing to do until it was time for them to complete their specific task. So she was stuck dealing with the status quo. Contractors tended to give her first priority though, simply because she paid them the moment she was satisfied with their work.

  Annie knew how to keep her people happy. Money talked, and the little extra she handed out in the form of a bonus didn’t hurt either. She wasn’t even above hiring someone under the table as long as their work was exceptional, met code, and got the job done faster. Business was business and sometimes it got a little cutthroat, even in the designing field.

  On days like today she wished she’d reined in her ambition, and hadn’t been in such a hurry to venture out on her own. At least then clients like Mrs. Barrington wouldn’t be her sole responsibility, and she’d be able to take a break now and then without feeling guilty.

  Feeling the need for a calm place to thin
k, Annie stepped through the rough framework of a doorway meant for a gorgeous pair of etched-glass doors, which had yet to arrive, and out into the courtyard. She parked herself on a decorative concrete bench which had been placed under the lacy leaves of a White Alder, hoping to enjoy the venti-sized, bold pick of the day, which she had picked up on the way over.

  After a few moments, Annie realized she might have to rethink the placement of this particular bench. Shaded by the tree, the concrete could not absorb any of the day’s warmth, and a pronounced chill began to inch up her body. She was uncomfortable, but since she didn’t have the energy or inclination to move, she settled in to watch Mrs. Barrington’s gardener tend to the most outstanding collection of black roses Annie had ever seen, as her butt slowly turned to ice.

  Annie had used the deep hue of the delicate buds as inspiration for Mrs. Barrington’s living room, but she had never been given the chance to capture its beauty. She bit her lower lip and focused on the unusual color of the flower and hoped a light bulb would go off in her head.

  Originally, the walls were going to be the dark black-red of the petals with leaf green accents scattered about, but Mrs. Barrington nixed that idea, feeling the dark walls would make the oversized living room feel small. Then the woman made an executive decision and changed the color arrangement without first discussing it with her. Annie had been somewhat placated by the fact that the deep green Mrs. Barrington decided on was at least something she could work with, but after the room was painted Mrs. Barrington decided she hated it, and ordered it covered up with white primer almost before the walls had dried. The color that now resided in its place was a unique blend only Mrs. Barrington could have come up with.

  It made Annie gag just thinking about it.

  A minute or two passed as she watched the tall, aging gardener expertly remove the spent blooms of some of the healthiest rosebushes in San Diego, and still came up blank. Annie still believed that dark red walls would be amazingly dramatic, but since it was obvious Mrs. Barrington didn’t want that much drama in her living room, it was probably time to chuck the whole color palette and come up with something a little more conventional. She only wished that she had come to that conclusion earlier, and that Mrs. Barrington had been honest with her from the start.