I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about her that made me want to help but not waste my breath with sympathetic words. She had an unyielding strength. Even though I saw glimpses of emotion, she acted businesslike. Perhaps that was her coping mechanism. The pit of my stomach rolled with nausea. I could only imagine what hers was doing.
“Did they say anything about police involvement?” Remy asked.
“If I try to find help, they will not hesitate to kill one of my sons.”
“Do you know where the necklace is?” Remy asked.
Mrs. Miller shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Where does Ian live?” I asked.
“He doesn’t have a home. He travels.”
“Are all his possessions inside a suitcase?” I asked.
She shrugged helplessly. “He loves the freedom.”
A man who loves the freedom of living from a suitcase wouldn’t need to steal such an expensive necklace. Would he?
The only clues were the postcards. I gathered the stack from the desk and handed them to Mrs. Miller.
“These are the postcards Ian sent. Remy and I have no idea what they mean.”
She flipped through the postcards, studying each one as if to imprint the image in her memory. “If Ian sent these, then he knew he was in trouble. As for the meaning . . . I’m not sure.”
“We’ve looked at every different angle trying to find a clue. We’ve come up short every time. So . . .” Remy paused, rubbing his head in thought. “We have forty-eight hours to come up with enough cash.”
“Or the necklace,” I added.
“Jet, with the looming deadline, I’m not worried about the damn necklace. Let’s just give them the cash. Ian can sell the necklace when he’s freed.”
“That’s assuming he has it,” I said.
“He has it,” Mrs. Miller said. “I don’t think he stole it, but these postcards lead me to believe he has it.”
“Either way, let’s just get the cash and worry about the necklace later,” Remy said. “I don’t suppose you have fifteen million in your account, do you?” He was obviously speaking to Mrs. Miller. My account only has two hundred earmarked for necessities, I thought dismally.
Mrs. Miller gave a soft laugh. “I have plenty of money, but not nearly that much.”
“What about Mr. Miller?” I asked. Actually, why wasn’t he here?
“I hold the accounts. Let’s not worry about him at present.”
“We need to get in touch with Greyson. Only he will be able to get his hands on that much cash. Mrs. Miller, I’m afraid you’re about the only person who may be able to reach him,” Remy said.
“And if I can’t?” Mrs. Miller asked.
“Then we send in Nadia,” Remy stated with a gleam. “She doesn’t look like much, but get her angry enough and she’ll take on the entire casino barehanded.”
I grimaced at the image. “It wasn’t barehanded,” I muttered.
“I almost forgot about the crowbar you swindled from the cab driver.”
“Anyway,” I interrupted, “Mrs. Miller, Remy can take you to Lost City. I’ll work on solving the postcard riddle.”
“You don’t want to come with us?” she asked, though her voice hinted that she didn’t want me to come.
“She’s banned from the casino,” Remy explained.
“He might have lifted the ban, but he got mad again.”
“You married his brother,” Remy said dryly.
“Remy, just go! You’re wasting time!” I barked.
Mrs. Miller stood and gave me one last studied glance before following Remy.
“Don’t touch anything, Jet,” he yelled from the hallway.
“Why do you call her Jet?” I heard Mrs. Miller ask.
“I’m sure you’ll have the occasion to find out,” was his answer before their voices were swallowed by the casino.
She will not find out anything of the sort, I promised. I was going to help and be on my best behavior. The Miller boys have seen me at my worst. I was not going to let Mrs. Miller see my monstrous faults as well.
I stared at the postcards and swore. How could this be happening? Are they being fed? The sickening thought of torture scratched through. I shook it off. I have to focus on the cards.
I laid them out by date. Since Remy and I both studied them in that order, I took a quick second glance. Nothing. I reread the first postcard.
My sweet wife,
I had to leave. I’ll be home soon and make things right.
Yours, Ian
As I studied it, the word “home” looked bigger. But why would that be? Maybe he just wanted to emphasize that he was coming home. What home? We don’t share a home. Is he saying he wants to? Once again, I found myself with more questions than answers.
Arranging them by date wasn’t the answer.
I am Ian, I told myself. I know my time is limited and someone is after the ridiculously expensive necklace that I may or may not have stolen. I probably hid it somewhere so no one can find it. In case I get caught, I’ll send clues so someone can help. This person married me while drunk, so she’s not too smart. I should make the clues easy . . . so easy a child could figure it out.
The role play didn’t help. I only felt stupider. Wait . . . more stupid.
Ugh!
My head fell into my hands as I thought. I really hoped Mrs. Miller could speak with Greyson.
I turned the cards over to look at the African animals. I smiled at the giraffe with its long neck. What would life be like as a giraffe? I wondered. A heck of a lot simpler than mine. Although I wouldn’t want to be chased around by a hungry lion.
Focus!
I paced around the room, feeling like a caged lion.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Caleb.
“Hey, kitten,” he greeted. I heard the clicking of shuffling chips in the background. “I was just going to sit down at the table.”
“Go ahead. Call me later,” I said.
“Hang on,” he said, halting my finger from pressing end. “Did you need something?”
“Not really. I just wanted to talk something through and thought you might be free to lend an ear. I’ll call Frankie.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at Tropical Rain.”
“Doesn’t Remy work there now?”
“Yes. I’m in his office.”
“What’s going on?” Caleb asked.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be sorted out eventually.” . . . within the forty-eight hour deadline.
“You don’t sound right. What’s going on? You’re not thinking of backing out, are you?” His voice teased, but the question remained.
“This has nothing to do with our wager.”
“Does it have anything to do with the amazing kiss last night?”
“No.” But it was an amazing, toe-curling kiss . . . and then he left so our wager could decide our fate instead of the kiss. It was as frustrating as these damn postcards.
“Hang on,” he said. Muffled voices asked him to join the table or give up his spot. “I’m in. Take the blinds from my stack.”
“Caleb, you can go. I’m sure Remy will be back soon.”
“I want to know what’s going on.”
“They’re taking your blinds. You’re losing money as we speak.”
“Kitten, it’s just a blind. Gunther is sitting at the table. I’ll have him wiped out by the time the blind reaches me again.”
Poor Gunther, I thought. He’d be wiped clean of a hundred grand or more. However, Gunther was so rich, a hundred grand was chump change.
“I’ll try to be quick so you can have more play time with Gunther,” I said. “Let’s say you are a child and you have to solve a riddle. The only clue you have is a stack of postcards with animals. On the front is the animal and on the back is either a letter or number. How would you solve it?”
“Is there an alligator?”
“I think so. Why?”
<
br /> “‘A’ is for alligator. You always start with the alligator,” he explained the simple concept only a moron wouldn’t figure out. And as leader of the morons, I grinned; this could be the answer to breaking the code.
Chapter 17
I promised Caleb a kiss and ended the call. Spreading out the cards, I found the alligator and placed it on the desk. I searched for an animal that started with a “B.” I found a baboon . . . or is it a monkey? Crap! I’m already stuck on “B.”
“Jet?”
I looked up from the desk to an empty office. “Remy? Where are you?”
“I’m heading back,” he said through the speaker on his desk phone.
“Were you able to speak with Greyson?” I asked.
“No.”
“Figures. What’s the plan?”
“Mrs. Miller and I are following him to LA.”
“Wait. He’s in LA?”
“He’s building a hotel out there. He left two hours ago. Mrs. Miller and I are going to jump on a plane and try to find him.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. Just stay where you are. I’ll be there in a minute to collect a few things and then I’m heading out.”
“But I can help. I think I’ve cracked the postcard code. Though, I’m not sure if this little guy is a baboon or a monkey.”
“Jet, listen to me carefully. You are not coming with us,” he said, emphasizing every syllable.
“I can help.”
“No.”
“The postcards will . . .”
“No! Sorry, Jet, but Mrs. Miller specifically requested that you stay out of this.”
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, I was sitting on my apartment floor with postcards scattered around me. Remy and Mrs. Miller were probably boarding an airplane. I could have helped, I thought as I continued my quest to break the postcard code. But Remy was adamant, and Mrs. Miller didn’t want me around. I wasn’t going to argue and risk them missing their flight. They can find Greyson . . . and I will break the code. This blasted, childish, pain-in-the-ass code!
“Are you playing with those postcards again?” Frankie asked as he slipped into my apartment.
“I always knock on your door,” I stated.
“And I always let you in.”
“Is this stupid animal a baboon or a monkey?” I asked, holding the postcard up with fingers gripping onto my last thread of patience. I’ll have monkey nightmares for a month after this.
“It’s a chimpanzee. Now who’s the stupid primate?” He chuckled.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I have a Jane Goodall outfit, complete with a stuffed chimp.”
“Not a real one, I hope.”
“Eww.” He grimaced. “No. I bought it at Fluff and Stuff. I even bought him a little sailor outfit, but it doesn’t quite go with Jane’s outfit.” He shrugged.
“Since you’re so smart, help me put the animals in alphabetical order.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to put them in order. Look . . . ‘A’ is for alligator.”
“I already know that one.”
As Frankie sorted through the cards, I asked, “How did last night turn out with Mark?”
“We reminisced for hours.”
“Are you friends? No more competitions?” I fielded the question with bated breath.
“We’re good.” He didn’t say any more, and I wasn’t going to ask any more. I was good just knowing the feud was over.
There was a soft courtesy knock on the open door. “Are you Nadia?”
“Yes,” I said, crossing over to the man standing in the doorway.
“I’m Sam Usher. I was told you need a new kitchen.”
“Usher?” I asked, studying the man who was older than Caleb by a handful of years and had similar facial features though his hair was darker and straight.
“Yes. From Usher Family Flooring and Cabinetry.”
“Are you related to Caleb?”
“I’m his cousin.”
“Did he tell you I need new cabinets?” I asked, wondering what Caleb was up to.
“He said you needed a new kitchen.” Sam stepped around me. “And now I can see why. Did you do this?” he asked, pointing to the gaping hole in my wall.
“Yes. Every full moon I enjoy tearing holes into the wall and yanking out hazardous wires,” I said dryly.
His eyes widened with surprise before he grinned . . . with dimples. Geesh.
“I’ll just need to take a few measurements.”
“I can’t afford to remodel.”
“It’s on the family account.”
“I’m not family,” I countered, wondering if this wager was something more than a simple year versus a million dollars. Simple . . . that was an understatement. It still didn’t place me on the family tree . . . or the family account.
“You’ll need to talk to Caleb. Did he do these floors?”
I gazed down at my pretty floors. “Yes. He did a great job.”
“I knew it. He’s gifted when it comes to flooring,” Sam agreed. “Any thoughts on how you’d like the kitchen to look?”
“I just want a functional kitchen with no hole in the wall,” I said. After Sam is done measuring, I’ll call Caleb and tell him to stop the work. I can’t accept such a gift.
“I have them in order,” Frankie said, eyeing Sam as he bent down to measure. Yep, lots of family resemblances. Poor Frankie was mesmerized.
“Great!” I regained his attention. “Let’s turn them over and see what they say.”
We turned over the cards and sat back to read.
“There are a bunch of numbers and then ‘A’ and ‘C,’ plus a bunch more,” Frankie said. “It’s still a big jumbled mess.”
I groaned and slumped over, resting my head on the floor. “I thought for sure this would work. We’ve tried every way possible.”
“I can’t think of any other way to look at them, except to throw them in the air and see what happens.”
I stared at the cards from my slumped position. Even that didn’t work. “What about the word jumble game? Are there any letters that spell a word?”
We puzzled over the letters.
“I see the word beach. Can you believe we’ll be on the beach in a couple of days?” Frankie asked with a grin that ran ear to ear.
“I don’t know if I can go.”
Frankie’s grin was washed away by a scowl. “Don’t you dare back out,” he fumed with crossed arms. “With Mya missing, you’re the only one left.”
“Believe me, I want to go. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner I can go on vacation. Where’s the word ‘beach’?”
“It’s right here.” He pointed. “See? It’s backwards. In fact,” he said, cocking his head to the side, “look . . . it says ‘Laguna.’”
Our eyes locked. “Laguna Beach,” we said in stunned unison.
“Hurry, put them in reverse order,” I said, frantically switching the cards.
“Done.”
We both sat back and read.
“It’s an address in Laguna Beach. Do you know what that means?” he squealed.
“It means I have to get there fast.”
“Exactly! If this is Ian’s mysterious pad, I want to see it. Do you think he has a pool?” Frankie chuckled with a wave of his hand. “What am I thinking? Of course he does. Everyone in California has a pool.”
Sam looked up from measuring with an arched brow.
“I’ll be packed in a few minutes,” I said, heading toward the bedroom. “How long will it take you?”
“I’ve been packed and ready for a week. Packing a wardrobe isn’t an easy task that you can do in minutes. Mya knew that,” he said with a wistful sigh. Frankie glanced at me as if wishing he could blink me into Mya for his vacation partner.
“What about Gus?” I stalled. “I didn’t plan on who would take care of him.”
“Amateur,” Frankie said. “Leave a note for Dani to check on hi
m. I’ll make a call to Vivian so she knows she’s on deck.”
The sound of heavy breathing and solid footsteps clomping upstairs had Frankie and me scurrying around the room.
“Close the door. Lock it!” I cried.
“She’ll pound me like a nail. I can’t have bruises on vacation!”
It was too late anyway. Muffin tromped up the last stair and stepped into the apartment. “You really need to install an elevator,” she wheezed.
Sam froze. The tape measure’s tape still sticking out.
“Are you getting your kitchen redone?” she asked, crossing over to Sam. “Did she tell you what I had in mind?”
Sam shook his head.
“It’s a good thing that I came,” she said, settling into a kitchen chair.
“Give me five minutes,” I mouthed to Frankie and slipped into the bedroom.
Since I didn’t have many clothes to choose from, packing was a snap. I stuffed everything into a bag and was ready to go in a few short minutes.
Returning to the living room as quietly as possible, I stooped to snap a photo of the address and then gathered the postcards.
“Sam, I have to leave. Just lock up when you’re done,” I said, carrying my bag to the door. “Where’s Muffin? I thought she’d be talking your ear off.”
“She left with the guy that was here.”
“With Frankie?”
He nodded and moved to take another measurement. “I should be done in a minute. Is it okay if we remodel while you’re on vacation?”
“Sure. The extra key is hanging near the door,” I said, heading out. “Caleb knows how to get in touch with me if you need anything.”
I hurried downstairs and stopped briefly at the chapel desk to write Dani a note. I fumbled through my pockets to find a crumpled five-dollar bill. I placed it next to the note for Gus’s hot dog expenses.
Rushing to the parking lot, I found Frankie loading his lime-green suitcase dotted with hot pink hibiscus flowers. He had changed into a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts . . . from the junior department. Large sunglasses were propped on his head.
“We’re going to California, not Hawaii,” I said, depositing my bag next to his.
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