“We can’t declare a national holiday,” Dougal said as he felt a headache start.
“I can live with it just being in Invertary,” the evil woman said.
Dougal glanced at his fellow council members, who shrugged. It seemed nobody could see a catch in her demand, other than a day with her name on it.
“Done,” Dougal said.
“And I want a parade on Betty Day.”
Again, the council nodded. “Done.”
“And a float filled with Chippendale dancers.”
“She’s determined to make a mockery of this town,” Morag shouted.
Again. Not wrong.
“No Chippendales. No property sales,” Betty said, then grinned. “That rhymes.”
“Who are the Chippendales?” Caroline asked.
“Male strippers, baby,” Josh said, making his wife blush. “You don’t need to see that.”
“Scared of a little competition?” Betty said. “Worried your wife will see what a dud she married?”
Before Dougal or Josh could answer, Lake put a hand on Betty’s shoulder. “Enough,” was all he said.
Betty rolled her eyes at him. “If you weren’t the son of my heart, I’d seriously consider poisoning you. You get in the way of all my fun.” She turned back to Dougal. “Am I getting my Chippendales or no’?”
He heaved a sigh. “You can have your stripper float.”
Betty whooped. “Number seven,” she read from her paper. “I want each of the Domino Boys to take me out for a fancy dinner in Fort William. Not together. I want a date with each of them.”
“I’m married!” James shouted in protest.
“She can have you,” his wife shouted back.
“Who’s paying for these dinners?” Archie demanded. “I’m on a pension.”
Dougal felt his heartburn start again.
“The council can pay for that too,” Caroline said. “Any objections?”
“Aye,” Hamish called out. “I object to having dinner with Satan.”
“Overruled,” Dougal boomed. “You get your dinners,” he told Betty. “Now, are you done?”
“Nowhere near.” She grinned.
The room groaned as one.
“Number eight. I want the women of Knit or Die to make Betty banners to be hung all over town. They need to say nice things about me. And I want those crocheted flowers on all of them.”
The women slumped in their chairs but nodded at Dougal.
“Done,” he said wearily.
“Number nine. I want every baby born in the next year—”
“—to be sacrificed at her Satanic alter,” Josh interrupted.
Betty pointed a gnarled finger at Josh. “Wish I’d thought of that. No, I want them all to be named after me.”
“Even the boys?” Mitch asked.
“Aye.” Her eyes glinted with glee.
And, of course, the hall erupted with shouts of outrage. If he didn’t get control of the situation fast, they’d soon have a riot on their hands. He paused, wondering who’d own the properties if Betty died in the ensuing chaos. No. He was a better man than that. It was his responsibility to keep order.
“Everybody calm down. She feeds off the anger,” he shouted, and a semblance of order returned. He turned back to Betty. “You can’t expect everyone to name their babies after you.”
“I can, and I do. You should too if you want to build that fancy conference center of yours.” She swung her short legs in glee.
“Wait.” Mitch stood. “Who’s due to give birth within the next year?”
“Claire,” her mother, Heather, said, giving Betty the evil eye.
“It would have to be Grunt’s wife,” Mitch muttered. He turned to Betty. “There’s no way he’s going to let you name any of his kids Betty. And there’s nobody in Invertary who can make him. You’re stuffed.”
“Fine.” She glared at everyone. “Then I want Lake and Kirsty to change their name to McLeod.”
“No!” Kirsty shot to her feet.
Lake just looked amused. He strode across the floor and whispered something in his wife’s ear before returning to Betty’s side. “Done,” he said.
A ripple of shock ran around the room.
“You’re changing your name to McLeod?” Betty said with suspicion.
“That’s what you want, right?”
“Aye.” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Then done.”
Everyone looked at Kirsty to see if she agreed. She just sat there, glaring at Betty.
“Well, I guess that one’s taken care of, then,” Dougal said. “Is that the last of it?” Please God, let that be the last of it!
“Nearly,” Betty looked at her paper. “I want Reverend Morrison to be brought back from Spain, and I want him to stand in front of all of you and admit that we’ve had sex. Lots and lots of sex.”
“Betty!” Caroline snapped. “There are children here.”
“I know, and they all got here because their parents had sex.”
“What’s sex?” four-year-old Jessica asked her father, Josh.
“Uh.” Josh looked at Caroline, then back at his daughter. “That’s a question your mother can answer later.” He lowered his voice and muttered, “Like in about twenty years.”
“We can’t drag the Reverend back to Scotland just so he can humiliate himself for your benefit,” Dougal told the evil empress of Invertary.
“Then, I guess we’re at an impasse.” She dug into her bag and brought out a pie, then set about eating it, without a care in the world.
And why should she have a care? She had everyone in the room over a barrel.
“How about we get him to tell us by Skype?” Mitch suggested.
“I’ve seen that telly program,” Betty said around a mouthful of food. “I know those videos can be faked. He needs to be here in real life. In person.”
“Is this your last demand?” Dougal said. “If we get the Reverend here, will that be the end of it?”
She paused for a moment, clearly enjoying the tension. “If he tells the truth to everybody, aye.”
Dougal wasn’t convinced. “Then you’ll negotiate the sale of your properties?”
“Aye. But you’d better bring a big fat wallet. I’ll no’ be letting anything go for a song.”
“Mitch,” Dougal snapped. “Get the contract out. I want to make sure Betty can’t renege on our agreement.”
“Contract?” Betty spat some food with the word.
“Aye, we drew one up that says we’ve met your demands, that you won’t come up with any more or stall the process further, and when the last agreed upon demand is complete, you’ll seriously consider any offers made on your holdings.”
She looked up at Lake. “Did you know about this?”
“It was my idea,” Lake said, remaining stony-faced.
“You make me so proud,” Betty told him.
As Mitch led Satan over to the table in the corner, to sign their agreement, Dougal sidled up to Lake.
“Are you really going to change your name to McLeod?” he whispered.
“Absolutely.” Lake nodded, a sparkle in his eye.
“What are you up to?” Dougal asked.
“She didn’t say which name,” Lake said. “So, we’ll change our middle names. We can always change them back down the track. She isn’t going to live forever.”
Lake’s devious mind impressed Dougal, but he was a bit worried about his reasoning. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I think that witch might outlast us all.”
And with that, as though Betty could hear him from halfway across the room, she looked up, caught his eye and laughed.
A New Client for Benson Security
This story takes place after Ransom before Rich.
Callum’s laptop suddenly made loud kissing noises in the middle of his meeting with Joe.
Joe grinned. “Should I worry about your relationship with that thing?”
“It’s Isobe
l. She got into the system settings and changed the notification sound for her messages.”
“The perils of working with your wife.”
Callum cocked an eyebrow at Joe’s perfectly pressed jeans. “You can talk.”
The American just shook his head. “She thinks I should look smart for work.”
“Aye, and now your jeans have a nice ironed line right down the front of them and your T-shirt smells like spring flowers.” His laptop started to make X-rated gasping noises.
Joe laughed. “At least Julia only irons. You’d better answer that before your laptop has an orgasm.”
With a shake of his head, Callum brought up the message screen.
Your 10.30 is here. He’s seriously stuck up. Are you sure you want to see him?
“It would seem Mr. ‘Brown’s’ here,” he told Joe as he typed his reply: Show him in. I can handle him.
I know you can xxxxxoxxoo
He stared at her message for a second. It was a far cry from the sort of interactions he’d had back in the army. But then again, if his CO had sent him a note with kisses and hugs on it, he’d have been seriously worried. “You ready for this?” he asked.
Joe tapped the folder in front of him. “Bring it on. Let’s see what this guy’s playing at.”
Callum turned to face the door, just as it banged open.
Isobel’s face was green as she pointed to the distinguished-looking older gentleman beside her. “This is Mr. Brown.” She practically pushed him through the door. “Can you take Sophie for a minute?”
Without waiting for an answer, she shoved their four-year-old into the room and ran. Dressed in a Wonder Woman costume, and with a bag of art materials under her arm, Sophie seemed completely unfazed by being dumped on them.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Joe said. “Pull up a chair beside me and keep me company.”
With a smile, she rounded the desk, climbed up beside Joe and started setting out her sketchpad and pens in front of her.
Meanwhile, their prospective client stood frowning after Isobel. In his late sixties, with a head of perfectly groomed white hair, he held himself with an air of confidence that only came with money and power. And with the familiarity of wielding both.
“You might want to consider hiring staff who behave in a more professional manner,” he said. “Your receptionist is the first impression your company makes, and my experience thus far hasn’t instilled confidence.”
Callum barely contained a growl. “That staff member is my wife, and she’s three months pregnant, which is why she ran for the toilet. It was either that or puke on the client. Which would be pretty damn unprofessional, wouldn’t you agree?”
“My apologies.” Mr. Brown tugged at the sleeves of his Savile Row suit before opening a button on the jacket. He looked pointedly at Joe. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Joe frowned and didn’t bother offering his hand. “Joe Barone. I work here.”
If Mr. Brown was waiting for more information, he’d be waiting a while. He might rule his little kingdom, but things ran differently in the London office of Benson Security, and he had no clout there. On top of that, he’d not only insulted Callum’s pregnant wife but had made an appointment using a fake identity. Which was seriously stupid, because what sort of security company would they be if they didn’t investigate their prospective clients?
“May I?” Brown pointed at a chair, his tone making it clear he felt Callum should have invited him to sit before he’d had to ask.
“Aye, take a seat.” Callum was fast losing patience. Isobel was always telling him that he needed to be more polite, but this guy didn’t deserve the effort. “What can we do for you?”
“Clam,” Sophie snapped and handed him a drawing.
He took it and put it beside him on the pile of drawings she’d already done that morning, flashing her a smile before turning back to Mr. Brown, who was frowning at his daughter.
“I really don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss business in front of a child,” he said.
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t care about anything you have to say anyway. So spit it out. What brings you to Benson Security?” He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him on the desk.
“I have a delicate matter to discuss regarding my company.”
Joe flicked open the folder he’d compiled on their prospective client. “You mean the Ford-Talbot company TayFor Pharmaceuticals and the rumor you’re losing money?”
To his credit, the fake Mr. Brown didn’t blanch at being found out. “I see you’ve done some digging.”
“Aye, we tend to do that around here, seeing as we’re in the security business.” Callum cocked an eyebrow at his business partner’s father. “What I’d like to know is why are you here under an assumed name and why aren’t you talking to your daughter, Mr. Ford-Talbot?”
Ford-Talbot cleared his throat. The first sign of nerves since entering Callum’s office. “I thought it best to test the waters first.”
“In other words, you’re scared of Rachel’s reaction.”
He huffed out a breath, making him seem almost human. “Yes, well, you know my daughter.”
Callum snorted. He did indeed. Rachel could eviscerate a man with a few well-placed words. It was actually kind of comforting to know her family wasn’t exempt from her attitude.
“Clam!” Sophie thrust another drawing at him.
He glanced at it. They were getting better, but he still didn’t have a clue what half of them were. That didn’t stop him from keeping every single one—he even had special folders for them.
Rachel’s father frowned at Sophie again before returning his attention to Callum, who just stared calmly at him. They were talking in front of Sophie or not at all. He sure as hell wasn’t going to kick his daughter out of the room to please Rachel’s lying father.
Ford-Talbot took a deep breath. “Mr. Barone is right. Rumors are swirling around my company. But the problem goes far deeper than the rumor we’re losing money. I have come to believe my competition has infiltrated my company.”
Oh, now that was more interesting than Callum had expected. He cast a glance at Joe, who was all about paying attention now that they’d gotten to the juicy part of the meeting.
“You want us to find the spies and shut their operation down,” Joe said.
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want Rachel to know,” Callum added. “I’ll tell you right now, that isn’t going to happen. I don’t keep secrets from my business partners.”
“No, that isn’t my intention.” Letting out a breath, Ford-Talbot pinned Callum with eyes identical to his daughter’s. “I want you to talk her into taking the job. I want her to be the one investigating from inside the company.”
Joe let out a low whistle. “Good luck with that.”
It was well known around the office that Rachel had nothing to do with her family business, and she tore the head off anyone who asked why.
“Interesting.” Callum sat back in his chair and considered the man in front of him. “At least that explains why you didn’t go to one of the bigger security companies.”
It was Ford-Talbot’s turn to snort. “And risk the wrath of Rachel? I don’t think so. My daughter mightn’t want anything to do with her heritage, but she’d be furious if I took company business elsewhere.”
But that didn’t answer the burning question. “Why do you want Rachel to investigate? She’s the last person I’d send in.”
Joe nodded his agreement. “We have operatives here who are far more skilled. People who’ve done undercover work with intelligence agencies. They would know what to look for and have the ability to find it.”
“I realize that.” His eyes flicked to Sophie, and his gaze softened. “What do you know about TayFor Pharmaceuticals?”
Callum shrugged. “Boutique company. Well respected. Your R&D Department’s won plenty of government grants and awards. You have a niche market and you’re the best in it.”<
br />
“And”—Ford-Talbot tugged at his tie in a nervous gesture that seemed out of character—“we’re a family-run company.”
“Ah,” Joe said, glancing at Callum. “You suspect a family member might be involved.”
Looking his age for the first time since he strode into the office, Ford-Talbot ran a hand down his face. “I honestly don’t know, but I fear that might be the case. My son,” he said and paused, “is the CEO. He’s very involved in the day-to-day workings of the company. Very little gets past him.”
“And that’s why you need Rachel,” Callum said. “No one else would be able to get close enough to the family members involved in the business.”
“I’m afraid so.”
There was a heavy silence, broken by Sophie getting out of her chair, stalking over to Callum, and climbing into his lap. He automatically wrapped his arms around his adopted daughter, feeling his heart melt as he did so. She placed a tiny hand on either side of his face and looked into his eyes, all somber attitude.
“Can I have ice cream? Muma said no, but you can say yes, can’t you, Daddy?”
And there it was, the word that brought him to his alloy-based knees and had him wrapped around her little finger.
“We’ll get some as soon as this meeting’s over, okay?”
“Sucker,” Joe said through a cough.
Callum scowled at Joe as Ford-Talbot smiled wistfully at him and his daughter.
The older man caught his eye. “Hard to believe that Rachel used to do that.”
“Aye, very hard to believe.”
Rachel’s father broke eye contact and looked down at his hands. “I know you might not believe this, but I love my daughter very much. Years ago, something happened with the company that turned her away from the business and distanced her from family. I would very much like to amend that situation.”
“And you think the best way to do that is to sneak in here behind her back, lying about who you are?” Joe said.
“Good point,” Ford-Talbot said with a shake of his head.
The door swung open and the woman under discussion stepped into the room. As usual, she was decked out in a designer suit that must have cost the entire GDP of a small country. Her trademark black stilettos gave her an extra few inches of height and some serious attitude.
A Little Something Extra: Short Stories from the Invertary and Benson Security World Page 15