"Hey, kitty." She went to the bed and stroked his back. He was curled into a sleepy ball, as if he'd never moved.
"I got you some food. Hungry?"
His golden green eyes seemed to brighten.
"Well, come on downstairs." She was surprised when he sat up and stretched, ready to follow her. For a stray, he was certainly a well-mannered cat. If no one else claimed him, maybe she could keep him for her own pet. As she watched him stretch, his rear poked up in the air, she smiled. He was one hundred percent cat.
Together they strolled down the stairs, and Sarah picked up the groceries and the sack of pepper. She took them all to the kitchen and put everything except the pepper away. What was she going to do with all of the Bingingtons' pepper now that she'd stolen it? In the bright light of her kitchen, it seemed like a stupid thing to have done. What would she tell the Bingingtons tomorrow when she saw them? "Excuse me, I stole all of your pepper canisters because I heard someone break in, and I was afraid they were going to try to poison some of your guests."
Great! That would do the trick. She'd be labeled a crazy and no one in town would ever hire her again, no matter what magic Uncle Vince and Chef André were able to pull off.
She couldn't call the police. The reference to her father stopped her cold. Cal Covington had suffered tremendously in his last days. The accusations and rumors had killed him as surely as the bullet. Until Sarah could discover what door to her father's past had suddenly been reopened, she had no intention of involving the authorities. After all, she'd seen exactly how the FBI and other law officials worked. Her father had been guilty until proven innocent. And if someone had killed him, the FBI could very well have been involved!
But what to do about the pepper?
She would replace all of the canisters with brand new ones. Unopened. Untampered with. She lifted the lid of her trash can to throw the others away. The green eyes of the cat watching her every move made her stop. It was almost as if he willed her not to throw the pepper away.
What if someone was trying to kill the Bingingtons or their guests? If she didn't report what she'd heard, would she be an accessory to murder?
She closed the garbage can, the sack of pepper still in her hand. Putting her burden on the counter, she got out a handful of gourmet coffee beans and set about to brew herself a cup of coffee. Caffeine would clarify her brain. She was still a little shaken up by what had happened that night.
When she sat down at the big kitchen counter, the cat leapt into her lap and purred a kiss under her chin.
"What a fine cat you are," she murmured, stroking the sleek fur. He belonged to someone. She was going to have to put an ad in the paper. It wasn't fair to keep someone else's pet. Someone was probably looking for him, worried that he was injured or worse.
The black cat rubbed his whiskers along her jawline, tickling her neck with his whiskers.
"You won't let me feel sorry for myself, will you?"
"Meow." He put his paw on her wristwatch.
"It's nearly ten." She answered him before she blushed. She was actually answering the cat, as if he'd asked her the time. She needed a shrink, not a pet.
The black cat patted her wrist again, then hopped to the telephone. When she didn't move, he leapt onto her counter and knocked the pepper sack onto the floor. The metal canisters clanked and rattled while the glass clattered ominously.
"Get off that counter this instant." Sarah clapped her hands and the cat leapt down to the floor. In a moment he had one of the pepper bottles out and was batting it around. She'd never seen an animal make such a rapid change in personality. He'd been sweet, loving, docile. Now he was a hellcat, hopping and leaping on every flat surface and knocking things around the floor. He was acting like a kitten, and he was very much a full-grown cat.
"You act as if you're very familiar with my home, Mr. Cat."
At the sound of the word "familiar," he looked up and cried.
She said it again. "Familiar."
"Meow!" He stopped all of his frantic activity.
"Familiar."
"Meow, meow." He nodded his head once.
"Okay, I'll call you Familiar. You act like the best friend of a witch. But you have to stop tearing my kitchen apart."
Familiar batted a pepper bottle so hard it rolled into her feet. Then he jumped back to the telephone and lifted the receiver with his paw.
"You want me to call someone?" She felt stupid asking the question out loud. The cat was beginning to give her the creeps. He'd named himself and now he was demanding her action.
"Meow, meow." Familiar punched a few of the buttons.
"You're a pushy thing." She retrieved the pepper from beneath her feet. "I suppose I should call that arrogant agent." A smile crept over her face and she looked at her watch. It was going on ten. That wasn't exactly tit for tat, but it was close enough. He'd rushed into her house at midnight. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to give him a call late at night.
He'd given her a card, along with the stale admonition to "Call if anything develops." Like she was expecting developments. But the pepper was something…and it would solve a host of problems. She could report the break-in, have the pepper tested, and absolve herself of any responsibility for future events. And she didn't have to tell him anything about the bit of conversation she'd overheard. That could be her secret.
Before she could change her mind, she lifted the big telephone directory by the binding and shook. A dozen business cards fell to the floor, Daniel Dubonet's on top, face-up.
She picked it up and dialed his home number, her satisfaction and hesitation growing as she counted the rings.
"Hello?" Daniel had just fallen asleep. The day had been a bad one, and his mood was not improved by the ringing telephone.
"Mr. Dubonet. This is Sarah Covington. You asked me to call if anything developed. Well, it has."
Daniel sat up in his bed, realizing he'd fallen asleep with the light on and a book beside him. "Sarah Covington?" He was having a hard time adjusting to reality. He'd been dreaming about the blond chef. She'd been standing beside his bed with a tray of delectable desserts, ready to serve him. Except that he wasn't interested in any of the tempting pastries she was offering. He was tantalized by the sweep of her hair against her cheek and the display of long, long legs that showed beneath the imaginative white chef suit she wore. He swallowed.
"Mr. Dubonet? This is Sarah Covington, the chef." Sarah felt a moment's annoyance. He'd spoken with her the night before. Had he forgotten her so quickly? She certainly hadn't forgotten him. In fact, he'd deviled her thoughts constantly.
"Of course. I know who you are." He was irritated at his sudden desire for a woman he barely knew. The sound of her voice was enough to trigger the urge to see her. "I was asleep."
"I'm so sorry."
He could tell by her tone that she was not one bit sorry, and he smiled. She was not only lovely, but bright and spunky, too. He had that one coming. "What can I do for you at this hour of the night, Miss Covington?"
She heard the teasing note in his voice, and she couldn't suppress her own smile. He did have a sense of humor, after all. Maybe he wasn't quite as arrogant as she'd first thought.
"I ran into some difficulties tonight." She couldn't help the tremble in her voice. Even talking about the two men made her frightened.
Daniel heard the change in her tone. "Why don't I come over, and you can tell me about this?" He'd been given a direct order to work with her. His luck couldn't get any better.
"It's late. I can tell you over the phone. I have some things, some spices, that I'd like to have tested for…"
"For what?" Daniel felt a tingle along his spine, suddenly wondering if this call was good luck or not. Was she trying to set him up?
"Pepper canisters. Someone broke into the Bingington house tonight while I was checking it for the dinner tomorrow. I think they might have put something in the pepper containers."
It sounded crazy. How did sh
e know this, and why would she suspect the pepper canisters? Unless she knew a lot more than she was telling.
"I'd better come over and talk with you in person." Was it official duty that prompted that remark or human desire? Daniel had a hunch he already knew the answer.
"No, it's late." Sarah felt a pinch of guilt. She'd meant to wake him up but not to drag him from his bed in the middle of the night. Besides, seeing him only confused her.
"I insist."
"I'm really fine. We can talk about this tomorrow. I was wondering if I should keep the pepper containers. I was going to throw them away— "
"Don't! Don't throw anything away. I'll be there in less than half an hour." Before she could disagree, Daniel replaced the receiver. As he reached for his clothes, he was already thinking ahead. If Sarah intended to do any damage tomorrow at the dinner, the perfect alibi would be to call and say someone had broken into the house and tampered with the spices. Even more perfect would be to call the FBI.
If someone were poisoned, Sarah would be sitting pretty. She would have done everything in her power to prevent a calamity.
She was one smart woman. Smart and dangerous. He checked the clip in his automatic as he slid it into the pocket of his coat.
Chapter Four
Daniel tugged at the starched white collar of his shirt and tried not to show his restlessness. Shoes shined to perfection, he was standing under the front portico of the Bingington house waiting for the last guest to arrive. Waiting to make sure that nothing unexpected happened. Although everything, so far, had gone as smooth as glass, there was still the feeling that warned of danger. He'd never made a claim to be psychic, but there were times when he sensed danger. And that extra edge of alertness had saved his life at least twice. Sarah and her pepper troubled him— enough to have him send the pepper to be tested.
As he nonchalantly adjusted the weapon in his shoulder holster, he could feel the gaze of the other valet resting on his back. As far as he knew, the valet was a regular guy who picked up extra bucks parking cars at a few posh parties. He had the look— trim, handsome, good manners. Daniel dropped his hands to his sides and slowly turned around to face the young man, a smile at the ready. "Hot today, isn't it? I think I'll get a glass of water." Without waiting for a response, he made his way around the house to the kitchen entrance. It was time for a check of the premises, and a look in on Sarah Covington.
At the large windows that gave a view of the enormous kitchen in the Bingington house, he paused. Sarah, her blond hair tucked neatly in a French twist, was bending over the oven. She wore white chef pants, but even in the baggy uniform, he could detect the outline of her firm posterior. She was a very attractive woman.
His perusal of Sarah was interrupted by another sensory assault— the most heavenly aroma wafted out to him. He identified it immediately as honey-baked ham. He could almost taste it when Sarah and a helper lifted the last huge ham, spiked with pineapples and cloves, from the oven.
There were four helpers in the kitchen with Sarah, and the place was a beehive of activity. Even though the room was large, every inch of space was in use. Checking his watch, he saw that the luncheon was due to officially begin in another fifteen minutes.
All of the expected guests had arrived except Governor Lester Peebles of Virginia. He'd been detained by some personal business— several members of his staff had quit in a tiff with his impossibly demanding wife— but he was coming. There had been no unexpected guests, no deliveries of any kind. Nothing had occurred that would indicate that any foul play was afoot.
Had Sarah been lying about the pepper?
The lab report would be complete later that afternoon. Until then, he was on the alert for any tiny detail that might warn of danger to the dignitaries attending the event.
The swinging door into the kitchen pushed open and a uniformed maid quickly refilled a tray of colorful hors d'oeuvres and went back out. It was rather amazing to watch the kitchen staff work so efficiently. He grinned at the thought that he could never manage to cook a steak, potato and peas and get everything done at the same time.
A tall, slender blonde he recognized as Ashley Bingington entered the kitchen and spoke to Sarah with a big smile. All appeared fine in the kitchen, and he continued around the house. As he checked the back entrance and found nothing, he couldn't help but remember his boyhood dreams of becoming an FBI agent. Like all kids, he'd pictured it as a life of sirens, guns and high drama. He'd wanted to chase down the bad guys and win the day. The reality wasn't quite as exciting. More often than not, he spent a great deal of his time reading reports and profiles, sitting in parked cars and standing in the hot sun on the alert. There had been moments of excitement, but those times always came with a price. Oftentimes, innocent people were the victims.
He made his way around the perimeter of the estate, then doubled back to the front. The valet on duty with him shot him a curious look just as a long, black Towncar arrived. Governor Peebles, looking harried, climbed out of the driver's seat. His chauffeur was obviously one of the staff members who'd departed.
"I'll take care of it," Daniel said agreeably to his coworker. "Why don't you take a break? There's some great food in the kitchen."
"Hey, man, thanks." The valet gave a small salute as he left.
Daniel drove the car down the drive to the tree-shaded area that had been designated for guest parking. The Bingingtons had thought of everything when they'd laid out the grounds for their home. He eased the car into a parking space. He had about two hours to kill before it would be time to begin the process of returning the cars to their owners. In that time, now that he had keys to all of the cars, he intended to do a little unauthorized checking.
If Sarah was being set up, then it was possible that one of the governors, or one of their guests, was involved. It was highly unlikely, but at least his search would help him pass the time. There was also the possibility that Sarah was working with one of the governors. With the economy on the downswing, each state was getting more and more competitive to attract new business.
He got out of the Towncar and went around to the back. As he popped the trunk open, he didn't hear the stealthy footstep in the grass. He never saw the flashlight that swung in a high arc and caught him just above the right temple. He never felt the gritty trunk of the car as he fell into it.
"That's what happens when a person sticks his nose into other people's business."
With a quick surge of energy, two strong arms lifted Daniel into the trunk and slammed it shut on him.
* * *
SARAH BLOTTED the faint glow of perspiration from her brow and wiped over the counters one final time. Around her the Bingington house echoed with welcome silence. All of the guests were gone and the Bingingtons had retired upstairs. Sarah had dismissed the kitchen staff. Only the cleanup crew remained.
"Everything is spotless," Charmine, one of the crew, assured her. "Go on home. You're about to drop." She grinned. "But don't worry about those leftovers. I'll take care of them."
"Mrs. Bingington said we were to take everything." Sarah grinned back. The menu had been a smashing success. Though she had prepared abundant supplies of everything, most of it had been eaten as the governors asked for second helpings.
"I do believe you'll get some new clients," Charmine teased. "You'd better watch out, though. All of your clients are going to weigh two hundred pounds. You're going to become known as the Calorie Killer."
Sarah winced at the unintentional reminder of her earlier problems. Then she laughed, fatigue making her slightly slap-happy. "I certainly hope not. Now I'm going straight home. I've got another luncheon next week. You want the cleanup detail? I'll be glad to recommend you."
"You bet." Charmine winked. "Get some rest, hon, you look beat."
Sarah had parked her compact at the rear of the kitchen. All of her pans were already loaded. As she walked out the door, she wondered what had happened to Daniel Dubonet. She'd expected him to show up in the k
itchen to eat. The other valet had taken a break for a quick lunch. She shrugged. Maybe Daniel had gotten a more urgent FBI call.
She drove straight home, barely noticing the flow of traffic or the familiar sights of the city. When she'd first come to Washington she'd been intimidated by the traffic and the sweep of humans who seemed to be in constant motion. Now, she hardly noticed it at all.
She did, however, notice the silver Mercedes parked at the entrance to her shop. A large smile spread over her face. As soon as she parked in the tiny slot behind her building, she ran to the car and tapped on the window. The door swung open and a tall, thin man in an expensive suit swept her into his arms.
"Chérie," he said, hugging her tightly. "You look exhausted. You are working too hard."
"Uncle Vince." She hugged him. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to check on my girl." He held her away from him. "You look tired. How about a vacation? I'm going to New York tomorrow. Come along with me."
She grinned. It would be a great trip, but she had business. "I'd love to, but I can't."
"How is Mora?"
She motioned him inside as she unlocked the door. They went directly to her large kitchen. Sarah was always delighted whenever she heard Uncle Vince's special knock at her door. They'd spent many pleasant hours at her kitchen table and now, without asking, she put on a pot of strong coffee. "Mother's okay. You know how easily she becomes upset. We're perfectly fine." The temptation to tell Vincent Minton about the strange occurrence in the Bingington house was almost irresistible. But Sarah had given her word to Daniel that she would say nothing until the tests on the pepper were complete.
"Is something wrong?" Vincent asked. His dark brows, threaded with silver, drew together. "Is that agent still bothering you? Was there trouble at your job? Lucinda Watts was at the party, and she said everything went fine."
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