Don't Look Down (23 page)

He smiled. “Take off whenever you want. Just make sure you come back—and in one piece.”

“Deal.”

Patricia had holed up in a chair in the corner to glower at both of them. Sam rose to close the door behind Rick, then faced the Ex again. “Okay. It’s like this: my friend was ar
rested tonight for being in possession of a genuine Giacometti prototype.”

“A what? And why does this concern Daniel and me?”

“It’s a piece of art. And the last time I saw it was at Coronado House, when Daniel showed it to me and asked me how much I thought it was worth.”

“Then your friend shouldn’t have stolen it.”

Sam clenched her jaw. “He was framed, and now whoever
did
steal it is missing out on making about a million dollars for it.”

“A mill—”

“I thought that might get your attention. So did you notice or hear Daniel mention anything about getting rid of it?”

“We don’t talk about art or money.”

“Not about money at all? Does he know you’re trying to move to Palm Beach?”

“Richard is assisting me with that,” Patricia said stiffly.

“Okay, let me ask you this: Why does a person who might need money intentionally lose a chance to make a lot of it?”

“Why don’t you just go away?”

“I’ll tell you why,” Samantha said slowly, reasoning it out in her own head as she spoke. “Because he’s creating a chance to make even more.”

“What?”

It made sense. The cops hadn’t said, but she would be willing to bet that one of the Gugenthal rubies had been found with the Giacometti sculpture. In one move Daniel would have managed to get himself out from under any suspicion for the theft and the murder, and pin it on someone else. And since he undoubtedly had the rest of the rubies, he’d be free to sell them elsewhere while the state prosecuted Stoney for having them and refusing to divulge their whereabouts. And from her best information they would be
worth something around three million, even at pennies on the dollar. All untaxed and unreported, for any recreational purposes he could come up with. Plus he’d have the inheritance free and clear.

She explained it as best she could to Patricia, putting up with the insults and insinuations the entire time. After an hour she finally seemed to be getting through.

“You’re saying Daniel killed his own father,” Patty said around her third cigarette.

“That’s what I’m saying. And even if he didn’t, he did the robbery. Which means that when he gets arrested for it—and I will make sure that he does—you are once again going to be dragged through the papers for having a relationship with a thief and probable murderer.”

For a moment she thought Patty had swallowed her tongue. “This is your fault,” she finally spat. “I don’t know how, but it’s your fault.”

“It’s not my fault, but I’m going to give you a way to help yourself out of this. If you work with me, I’ll make sure the cops know you’ve been in on the investigation all along, and that you came to me with your initial suspicions about an old family friend and his cocaine habit.”

Patricia took another long drag, blowing smoke out through her lips. Then she ground out the butt. “What do I have to do?”

Saturday, 1:02 a.m.

R
ichard sat on the sofa in the bedroom suite, his cell phone and a notepad beside him, while he flipped channels on the plasma television. Every time he changed a channel the time came up across the bottom, and he’d been counting every minute.

Finally, a little after one o’clock in the morning, the door opened behind him and then closed again. “Hi,” he said over his shoulder.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” Samantha said, flinging her purse onto the side table and sinking onto the couch beside him. “You have a big day tomorrow. Today, I mean.”

“And face your stinging sarcasm when you came in and had to wake me up?” he returned, finally relaxing as she settled in against his side and drew his free arm around her shoulders.

“Is there anything new?”

“We can’t get Walter out of jail until Monday at the earliest. He’s going in front of a judge and they’re going to formally charge him then. That’s when his attorney will ask for bail and—”

“I went to see him,” she interrupted.

“Walter?” It abruptly felt as though reality had slipped out of focus. Twice in a week now Samantha had voluntarily visited a police station. “Did you find out anything new?”

She shrugged, burrowing a little closer against him. “Just that he’s scared shitless to be there and that he wants out now.”

“I’m sorry,” he returned quietly. “With the weekend, they can hold him an extra day without filing any—”

“I know the drill.” The line of her shoulders remained straight and tight. It had been a long evening for her.

“Tom’s got Bill Rhodes on the case. He’ll get bail on Monday.”

“Don’t you think maybe it’s too high profile, having one of the senior partners of a prestigious law firm representing a fence?”

Richard shrugged. “Maybe. It could work in our favor, though. Donner, Rhodes and Chritchenson wouldn’t risk its reputation on a thug.”

“’A thug,’” she repeated. “Don’t let Stoney hear you say that. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“I said he
wasn’t
a thug, my love.”

“I know. I think my sense of humor is broken.”

“You’re just tired. What say we hit this again in the morning?”

“Stoney said the guy who called him for a meet never showed up, and then the cops busted into his house and found the Giacometti in his front closet. Did Donner find out anything else?”

“Yes.” He didn’t want to answer, because it would start a whole new line of questions, and they both needed to get some sleep. At the same time, he knew her well enough to realize that they weren’t going anywhere until he gave her
the information. “The police received an anonymous tip that the guy who’d killed Charles Kunz had gone back in for another piece, and gave the location where Stoney would be. He was there, and they found the Giacometti the caller had mentioned, and—”

“And a Gugenthal ruby, right?”

He frowned. It had taken Tom three hours to find out what the cops had inventoried during the arrest. “You might have called me if you had that bit of information.”

“I didn’t have it.”

“Then how—”

“A hunch. And I’ll bet it was the least valuable one in the set.”

“I don’t know that, yet. Castillo might.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “And did you get anything useful from Patricia?”

“It’s too early to tell. I probably shouldn’t have given her the whole night to think things over, but I doubt she’ll tip off Daniel. After Peter, I don’t think she trusts her taste in men all that much.”

At least she hadn’t included him in that little cluster of miscreants. “And what, precisely, is she thinking over?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow afternoon.”

“Samantha—”

With a deep sigh she stood, tugging him to his feet beside her. “Bed, please.”

“It’ll be all right, you know.”

She mustered a small, grim smile. “I know it will be. I’m going to make it that way.”

“
We
will make it that way,” he amended, hiding his alarm in a tight hug. If Samantha went over to the dark side, God help whoever crossed her.

Samantha’s first stop of the morning was to Ungaro’s, where she purchased an expensive emerald necklace in an antique gold setting that matched the pictures she’d seen of the Gugenthal collection pretty closely. Then she went to a teeny bopper accessories store and bought a big cheap ruby necklace. That done, it only took a few of her more delicate thieves’ tools to replace the emerald with the glass ruby.

It was a big hunch she was going to play, but it was the best one she could think of. For most of her life she’d lived by relying on her instincts, and she wasn’t going to alter that just because it was Stoney’s life at risk as well as her own.

Rick hadn’t looked all that pleased to see her putting on a sleeveless flower print Valentino dress that morning, but since he’d been busy donning a black Armani suit and a deep blue tie for his meeting, neither of them had spent much time on conversation. He hated when she wished him luck, probably for the same reasons she hated the term, so she’d settled for a simple “You look yummy” and left to run her errands.

For stop number three she drove to the Chesterfield Hotel. It surprised her that John Leedmont had agreed to meet there, especially with the rest of the Kingdom Fittings board of directors roaming the halls. On the other hand, Leedmont had a big meeting in a few hours, and he probably wasn’t up for a clandestine rendezvous in a coffeehouse.

Leedmont answered his door just a couple of seconds after she knocked. He was nervous—though she wasn’t sure yet whether it was because of her or because he was within two hours of meeting an Addison charge full on.

“Miss Jellicoe,” he said, stepping back to motion her into the room. “Were you able to find my blackmailer?”

She nodded, handing over the envelope containing the photo and negative. “There you go.”

Leedmont opened it, pulling out the contents and examining the two items. “Did you have any trouble?”

Sam shrugged, resisting the urge to touch her bruised forehead, buried under an inch of makeup. “He wrecked my car, but I kicked his ass, so all in all I’d say it worked out.”

“He won’t…cause me any further difficulties?”

“No. He had quite the business going with his little candid camera game. I imagine he’ll be heading to jail for a couple of years.”

“And my involvement?”

“No such animal. You’re one hundred percent not involved.”

“You didn’t keep any copies of the photo for yourself?”

Sam offered him a smile, though she wasn’t particularly amused. “So I could blackmail you into working with Rick, maybe? This is between you and me. I didn’t keep anything, and he doesn’t know anything. Hell, you could even not pay me and I wouldn’t say anything to him.” She let her smile deepen. “But I wouldn’t recommend going that route.”

“I don’t imagine you would.”

Leedmont reached into his jacket pocket and produced a check, which he handed to her. She pocketed it without checking the value.

“By the way,” she added, heading for the door, “I believe you about the circumstances. Your photographer set more guys up than just you. And Miss Hooker’s gonna have some long, nervous evenings while the cops look for her.”

“Thank you.”

Shrugging, she pulled open the door. “You seem like a good guy. I’m glad you came to me.”

“Miss Jellicoe?”

She stopped halfway into the hall. “Yes?”

He motioned her back into the room. “Might I ask you a private question?”

“Okay. I can’t guarantee an answer.”

“Fair enough.”

Sam closed the door again, leaning one hand on the handle. With a ton of other shit to take care of today, she really didn’t have time for this. On the other hand, she was trying to start a business, and it couldn’t hurt to make a good impression on her first paying client—even if this hadn’t been remotely related to building security.

“Richard Addison,” he said.

“Like I said, this is between y—”

“You and me. I know. I only wanted to ask your opinion of him.”

Deeply surprised, Samantha considered her answer. “I’m living with the guy, so I must think he’s okay.”

“That’s not precisely what I meant.”

She grimaced. “All right. I don’t trust many people, but I trust Rick Addison. How’s that?”

He nodded. “Better. Thank you again.”

“Sure.”

She returned to the Bentley and headed out on her last errand of the morning. Thankfully, Patricia was already dressed and waiting for her in the lobby of The Breakers. Samantha eyed her for a moment. “You’ll do,” she said.

“Oh, praise from the mutt,” Patricia returned, holding out her hand. “Where is it?”

Sam handed her the necklace. “Just remember, it was a gift. Don’t be self-conscious about it.”

The Ex fastened it behind her neck. “I know how to wear jewelry, thank you very much.”

Gazing at Patricia’s neck critically, Samantha nodded. “Looks good. And where did you get it?”

With a pained sigh, Patricia followed her to the Bentley and recited, “Daniel gave it to me at dinner the other night.
He said I should be showered in rubies and emeralds.”

“Bathed. He said you should be bathed in rubies and emeralds.”

“What?”

“Being showered in them would hurt.”

“Bitch,” the Ex muttered, allowing herself to be handed into the passenger seat by a valet.

“Slut,” Sam returned, tipping the other valet and climbing in on her own. This valet thing wasn’t all that bad, though she’d hate to rely on having her car delivered to her while she was trying to make a getaway.

“I still don’t understand how this is going to help anything,” Patricia said, fiddling with the short hem of her white and yellow Ralph Lauren.

“It’s simple. A charity lunch with us sitting at the same table as Laurie Kunz. She’ll see you wearing the ruby, ask where you got it, and we’ll take it from there.”

“But you said Daniel robbed his father.”

“I’m betting Laurie will think so, too. I want to see her reaction.”

“I think you don’t know anything, and you’re just trying to ruin my life again.”

“If I’m wrong, then you get a nice necklace.”

“It’s not even real.”

“The setting’s real gold.” Ruthlessly Samantha kept her growing annoyance in check. This was for Stoney. And it was for her, though she couldn’t help thinking that if she’d just dropped her pursuit of Charles’s killer, none of this subterfuge would have been necessary.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to the gated drive of Casa Nobles. Samantha showed the guard at the gate her invitation—which had actually been sent to “Miss Samantha
Jalico and guest” at Rick’s address. Hell, it wasn’t perfect, but it did signal that she’d been accepted into Palm Beach society to some degree.

“I still can’t believe I’m attending as your guest,” Patricia muttered as they pulled into the curving drive.

“I’m sure you would have been invited if they’d known you would be in town,” Samantha said soothingly. “But this way, you’re the secret weapon in a robbery and murder investigation.”

“Yes, I am.” Patricia led the way up the shallow Spanish-style steps to the double front doors of Casa Nobles. “And don’t you forget it.”

The luncheon at Casa Nobles was hosted by Mrs. Cynthia Landham-Glass, the daughter of the inventor of vending machines or some such thing, and the wife of the owner of the largest string of Lexus dealerships in the country. Cynthia herself stood in the doorway greeting the all-female guest list.

“Patricia!” she exclaimed, giving the Ex the traditional two-cheek miss-kiss. “I had no idea you were in town. I’m so glad you were able to attend.”

“Yes, Samantha asked if I would join her. She’s new to this sort of thing, so I agreed to be her guide.”

Samantha smiled as the stretched-tight face and Botox lips turned in her direction. “Hello. Thank you for inviting me.”

“My pleasure, Samantha. Rick Addison is well-respected for his philanthropy.”

“He’s been encouraging me to become more involved in local society,” she returned, adopting the lofty airs of the two women. “He even sent his checkbook with me today.”

Well, he hadn’t objected when she’d lifted it from his pocket, anyway. She’d tell him later.

“Splendid. SPERM will be delighted to see how generous Rick Addison and Samantha Jellicoe are.”

“‘SPERM?’” Samantha repeated in a low voice as she followed Patricia through the house.

“Sam!”

She looked up as a petite blonde emerged from the patio and the spread of tables beyond. “Kate,” she returned with a genuine smile as Donner’s wife embraced her. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“And no one told me you were attending. SPERM is a favorite cause of mine.”

Samantha leaned closer. “And what the hell does SPERM stand for?”

Kate Donner chuckled. “The Society for the Protection of the Environment and Range of Manatees,” she recited. “I like them because they have a sense of humor. And it is a good cause.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hello, Kate,” Patricia said. “What a nice surprise.”

Kate glanced in the Ex’s direction. “Patricia. I heard you were lurking around town.”

“I don’t ‘lurk.’”

“Skulking, then.” Wrapping her arm around Samantha’s, Kate guided her toward the patio. “What are you doing with her?” she whispered, her fresh, tanned face folding into a frown.

“Rick knows,” Sam returned. “It’s business.”

“Thank goodness. When I saw the two of you together the other day, I—”

“You told Yale, and he ratted me out to Rick. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Annoyed as she still was at the complications that had
caused, Sam couldn’t help but like Kate. She had from the moment they’d met. Even better, Kate obviously didn’t like Patricia. At the same time, satisfying as ditching Patty would be, Sam needed her.

“Tom doesn’t keep things from Rick. And at heart he’s a huge gossip. I should have called you first, but I was so…surprised, I didn’t think of it.”

“No problem.” Samantha took a breath. “Kate, would you mind…sitting elsewhere? I need some space around Patricia and me. I can’t exp—”