Blind Faith (13 page)
"In
Where they shoot
The popular series had been off the air for years, but Connie still watched it on cable. Kelly and her brother often teased her about having a crush on Don Johnson.
"Yes, Ma, that
"You went out of town without telling me?"
"I left early. You weren't up yet."
"What were you doing in
"Looking for Jonathan.
He's missing."
Connie's hand went to her breast.
"
Kelly nodded and brought her mother up to date. She didn't mention the attack outside Salamander, or Nick's rescue. The first would have freaked her out and the second would have put romantic thoughts in her matchmaker head. Connie and Nick had met only once, when Kelly had invited him to
Remo
When Kelly was finished, Connie wagged her spoon at her. "You're doing it again, Kelly. You're putting yourself in danger. I don't like it.
Let the police find Jonathan."
"Missing persons don't rank very high with police departments, Ma.
"Then tell
Kelly dunked another piece of bread into the sauce. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you, Ma. I thought about it, you know."
Connie looked hurt. She was good at that. Even better than Kelly's grandmother, who had mastered the
art.
"You would lie to your mother?"
Her and her big mouth.
"I didn't
lie
, Ma. I just thought about it."
This time the spoon came within an inch of Kelly's nose. "That job of yours will be my death. You know that, don't you?"
"Ma, come here." In spite of her mother's protests, Kelly took the spoon away and pulled her to the counter. "Do you remember when Pop had his first heart attack?"
Connie gave an unladylike snort. "How can I forget? I almost lost him that day."
"We all thought that, including Dr. Catelli. I was only a little girl at the time but I remember him telling Pop he should slow down, maybe sell the restaurant."
"But would he listen?
Of course not.
He was just like you--stubborn as a mule."
"Pop was right not to sell, because in the end, the restaurant was his best therapy. Even you were amazed at how fast his health improved afterward." Her voice turned husky as she remembered the old days. "He went on to live a wonderful, productive life for twenty-eight long years, doing what he loved most--working side by side with you every day, the way his parents and grandparents had done before him."
"Your father wasn't running around town getting shot all the time."
"Once, Ma.
I got shot once. I could live a hundred years and I'll never get shot again."
Connie's frown slowly faded.
"All right.
You're off the hook this time."
She walked over to a large hutch. "But it will cost you."
"Ah, Ma, you're not going to make me wait tables again, are you?" Kelly teased.
Connie set a dinner plate on the counter and pointed to the stool in front of it. "I'm going to feed you. Sit."
Kelly laughed. "I thought you'd never ask."
Half an hour later as Kelly was trying, unsuccessfully, to turn down a thick slice of Benny's tiramisu,
"I found it,
Kel
. The restaurant where Jonathan had lunch on Friday is called the Pink Seagull. It's in Absecon."
"Bingo," Kelly whispered.
The Pink Seagull was tucked away in a small shopping center off the beaten track and was close enough to
Kelly had made a point to arrive a little after two, as the lunch hour was winding down and the staff wasn't so busy. A gum-chewing cashier sat behind her desk, reading Brides magazine and not paying much attention to anything else. When Kelly told her she was doing a story on area restaurants and wanted to talk to the waiters, the girl pointed at two young men in black pants and white shirts before returning to her magazine.
Kelly took her position in front of the kitchen door, and stopped one of the waiters as he came toward her. "Excuse me," she said politely. "I'd like to talk to someone who worked the lunch shift this past Friday."
"Rick and I work every day, every shift, lunch and dinner." He did not look happy about it and didn't return Kelly's smile. "What do you want to know?"
Kelly produced Jonathan's picture and held it in front of him. "Did you wait on that man?"
He glanced at the photograph before gazing back at Kelly. "You're a cop or something?"
Kelly decided to drop the Miss. Nice Girl act. It wasn't getting her anywhere.
"Or something.
Did you? Wait on him?"
He shook his head.
"Nope."
He shouldered his way through the double doors and disappeared into the kitchen.
Unfazed, Kelly waited for the other waiter to come her way. When he did, she asked him the same question, calling him Brad, which was inscribed on his name tag. Brad was better-looking and friendlier.
He nodded as he looked at the photograph. "Yeah, I waited on Mr.
Bowman."
"You know him?"
"I know all the casino execs."
"So he comes here often?"
"No, but when he does, he tips well. You remember good tippers." His smile faded. "I heard Mr. Bowman is missing.
So the news was already out. Cecily wouldn't be happy. "Yes. That's why I'm here. I'm a close friend of the family and I'm trying to track him down." She slid the photo back into her bag. "Did he come here with someone?"
"Yeah.
No one I knew." From the kitchen, someone called Brad's name.
Brad pursed his lips for a long second. "He was in his late fifties with gray hair.
Well-dressed and good looking.
I remember him because he reminded me of Cary Grant. Except that he had a red birthmark." He touched the right side of his forehead.
"Right here."
Kelly leaned against the wall.
The waiter had just described Ward Sanders.
Fifteen.
The Sanders' three-story colonial in Villanova, with its perfectly manicured lawns and stately old oaks, was one of the most magnificent properties on the entire Philadelphia Main Line. Several generations of Sanders had occupied the house over the last century, and though Ward and Cecily had lived in it for more than thirty years, the deed was still in Monroe Sanders' name. And he never let them forget it.
Kelly had spent many wonderful moments here. At first, the luxury and grandeur of the place had put her off, but in time she had come to regard the house as her second home, and the Sanders as her surrogate family.
From the beginning.
Ward and Cecily had made her feel
welcome,
taking an interest in her aspirations and encouraging her with the same passion they encouraged
From the parking lot of the Pink Seagull, Kelly had called Ward at the bank and told him she needed to talk to him in private. Puzzled but agreeable, he had told her to meet him at the house. He was on his way to
The butler opened the door and gave one of his stiff, courteous bows.
"Good afternoon.
Miss.
To bolo."
Nela
.
Of Rumanian heritage,
"How are you,
He bowed.
"Very well.
.
Thank you."
"Mr. Sanders in?"
"He's waiting for you in the drawing room." His back rigid as a board, Adrian led the way and announced her before proceeding down the hall, carrying Kelly's coat.
Ward was already walking toward her, hands extended, when she entered the well-appointed room. "Kelly. Come in, my dear. I've been worried ever since you called. It's not
"So you know."
"She stopped here last night after dropping you off." He led Kelly to a sitting arrangement of sofas and chairs upholstered in rich green brocade. "Cecily and I could hardly believe it. What a terrible thing for Jonathan to do to
"She still does."
Ward sighed. "Yes. I suppose that's not going to change overnight."
"Ward." Kelly folded her hands on her lap. "I didn't come here to discuss Jonathan's affair."
"Oh?" He looked surprised.
Knowing he appreciated directness as much as she did, she came straight to the point. "Why didn't you tell me, or Victoria, that you had lunch with Jonathan on Friday?" Ward's complexion turned pasty. "How did you find out?"
He didn't reply.
"My God, Ward, how could you keep something like that from the rest of us?"
"I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell anyone."
"Because I gave Jonathan my word that I wouldn't!"
He was immediately
apologetic
. "I'm sorry, Kelly. I didn't mean to shout. I--"
She cut him off with a wave. "Don't worry about that." She waited until he had regained his composure before saying, "Look, Ward, I understand your reluctance to betray a friend's confidence, but we're talking about high stakes here.
Jonathan's life could be at risk."
Ward kept staring at his hands. As the silence stretched to a full minute, Kelly felt more and more uncomfortable. "Ward. Say something."
He nodded. "Yes.
All right.
I suppose it doesn't matter now."
"What doesn't?"
"Jonathan wanted to borrow money."
Kelly let out a sigh of relief. After all the possible wrongdoings on Ward's part she had imagined, finding out that Jonathan had wanted to borrow money was a huge weight off her chest. "What did he want the money for?" she asked.
"He wouldn't tell me."
"Of course, several times during the course of our lunch.
He refused to discuss it with me."
"How much money did he ask for?"
"A hundred thousand dollars."
"Dear God!"
"I know. I was shocked, too. At first I thought he was gambling and needed to repay a loan shark. It wouldn't be the first time a casino employee--even a high-ranking executive--got suckered into the game.
Then I wondered if he was being blackmailed."
"My first guess was a woman, but Jonathan emphatically denied being involved with anyone." His mouth dropped at the corners in a bitter, downward smile. "Knowing what we now know about Magdalena Montoya, I wasn't so far from the truth, was I?"
Ward let out a short laugh. "Oh, Kelly, where would I get that kind of cash without my father finding out? I may run the Eastland Bank, but Dad is still CEO, a very hands-on CEO."
"Yes, Cecily certainly had the means to help Jonathan, and she would have, if only to spare the family a scandal. But Jonathan made me swear I wouldn't say a word to anyone, most of all Cecily."
"We finished our lunch, though Jonathan barely touched his. I kept trying to get him to confide in me. He and I have always enjoyed a good relationship and I was hoping that whatever the problem was, I'd be able to help him--if not with money, then at least with advice or moral support."
When he looked back at her, there were tears in his eyes and Kelly knew they were genuine. "In hindsight, I wish I had done things differently, gone to my father perhaps."
Kelly couldn't quite picture Monroe Sanders handing out a hundred thousand dollars and not expect something in return--like a huge profit.
In financial circles, the old man was known as an astute businessman and a little bit of a bastard when the circum stances called for it. Kelly had seen that side of him often, especially with Ward, whom he ordered around as if he were a servant rather than the president of his bank.
"You realize you'll have to tell