Hot Property (17 page)

“Are they wrapped?” Alice asked.

“The perfume is in silver netting, and the golf tees are in shiny black paper with a silver ribbon.”

“Oh, that sounds divine. When will the caterers arrive?”

“Five o’clock. Same time as the florist.”

“The sitter for the kids?”

“Six.”

“The valets?”

“Seven. Your hair appointment is at one o’clock, and I’m picking up your dress from the alterations place at noon.”

“The candles for the front walkway—”

“—should be arriving any minute. I’ll light them myself. Mrs. Munn, try to relax. We don’t want you to trigger an asthma attack. Oh, that reminds me, I picked up a new inhaler for you. I’ll bring it when I bring the dress.”

“Wendy, you’re a gem. I couldn’t do this without you. If there’s anything I can do … you know, about the recent troubles you’ve been having …”

“Recent troubles” sounded more like a sinus infection than criminal charges. “Your husband has certainly done his part keeping the pressure on the police,” Wendy said. “If you’ll just let me leave some business cards stacked discreetly on a table in the entrance hall—”

“Not on your life. I’ll personally hand a card to
everyone I talk to, and I’ll make personal introductions to anyone you’d like to meet.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Munn. Your support means everything to me.” Well, not everything, she conceded silently as she hung up. There was a gaping hole in her heart where Michael’s support had been. She deeply regretted turning away from him, and the lies she’d told him about her father practically burned a hole in her conscience. She’d left him the previous morning to save herself heartache later on.

But could she feel any worse than she felt now? She’d assumed he would take her abandonment in stride. But if he felt even a tenth the emotions that had staked out her heart, then he was hurting, and she ought to be ashamed of herself for treating him so shoddily.

If she had a spare minute, she would go to him and apologize, throw herself on his mercy. She might also come clean about her father. She would feel so much better.

The catch was, she didn’t think she would have a spare minute. The tasks connected with the mayor’s party would eat up every second of her time.

Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow was Sunday, traditionally her day off. Maybe Michael would have the day off too. She never had figured out exactly how his schedule worked. She could invite him over, cook him breakfast. They could go to White Rock Lake and walk the bike path, taking advantage of the incredible spring weather they were having. And they could clear the air.

By the time she realized she was staring into space, consumed with her outlandish fantasy of holding hands and feeding the ducks, she’d wasted five minutes. She had to feed Bill and Ted, then get to the office.

It seemed as if Michael was getting more than his share of dressing down lately. First the mayor, now his own superior, Captain Larry Rogers. Though Rogers was in general a fair man, he and Michael often did not see eye to eye.

“Do you have any idea who James Batliner’s parents are?” Rogers demanded. They were in his office: Michael was sitting in a chair getting really hot under the collar, and Rogers was pacing.

“Yeah, so his parents are muckety-mucks.”

“Major supporters of the city manager. And I don’t need to remind you how important it is to have his support behind this department. You’ve already got the mayor pissed off at us.”

“So, Captain, what am I supposed to do? Wendy Thayer’s a friend of the mayor, so we forget prosecuting her. I come up with an alternate suspect, but it turns out he’s a friend of the city manager’s, so I sweep it under the rug. There’s a name for that. Corruption.”

“You don’t have any real evidence against Batliner.”

“The bank employee picked him out of a photo lineup.”

“The lineup wasn’t done under controlled conditions. It won’t hold up in court.”

“Only because you wouldn’t let me bring Batliner in for a real lineup. He doesn’t have a single alibi for any of the burglaries, including the museum.”

“Tagg,
I
wouldn’t have an alibi. The burglaries all occurred between two and three in the morning. Most people who live alone won’t be able to account for their whereabouts during those hours because they’re asleep. Alone.”

Michael conceded the point. He probably wouldn’t be able to come up with an alibi himself for those times. “So, I repeat, what do you want me to do? This guy, Batliner, is in up to his eyeballs. My gut tells me that, and you know my gut’s never wrong.”

The captain rubbed his forehead. “This has to be handled delicately. What about the physical evidence at the burglaries?”

“We’ve got a couple of partial fingerprints, a shoe print, one hair, and sonic teeth marks.”

“Teeth marks?”

“Yeah, the burglar took a bite out of an apple at one house and left it sitting on the counter. If I could just haul Batliner in and take samples—”

“God, no! We’d be sued so fast, our heads would spin.”

Michael thought for a minute. “What if I could get samples without him knowing?”

Rogers narrowed his eyes. “How do you propose to do that?”

“He’s sure to be at the mayor’s party, right?”

“I thought you weren’t going.”

“I changed my mind. I’ll get something from him and we’ll quietly compare it with the evidence. And if I get a match—”

“If you get a match, we’ll go after him. I promise.”

That was all Michael needed to hear.

Wendy had dressed with care in the only summery cocktail dress she owned, a sea-foam green designer number she’d snagged at a resale shop. The sheath fit her as if it had been tailored for her, draping sensuously down to her ankles. She’d purchased a pair of silvery spike-heeled sandals during the two-for-one sale at Vantage Shoe Warehouse, and Jillian had loaned her the coolest silver evening bag, shaped like an apple. As a final touch, she’d woven a silver beaded necklace into her hair, which she wore piled up on her head in a mass of curls and braids.

She’d decided it would be to her advantage to appear on a par with the guests, instead of dressing in a uniform like hired help, even though that’s what she was. In evening wear she could wander about the mayor’s mansion at will, discreetly checking the buffet for items that needed replenishing, making sure there were plenty of champagne flutes and silverware, adjusting the thermostats and stereo systems in various rooms to be certain the guests were comfortable and that the music wasn’t too loud or too soft.

Alice Munn was actually the one who’d suggested that Wendy dress up. “You show those clients who
turned their backs on you that you’re one of
them
,” she’d said. “You’ve got more class in your little finger than some of those old biddies have in their whole bodies.”

Wendy had laughed and given her best client a hug. Alice had never been one to judge someone based on income or family lineage.

Now that she was ready, Wendy was feeling a flutter of nerves. She’d checked every detail a dozen times. Nothing was going to go wrong. This party would be her calling card, her piece de resistance.

She arrived at the Munns’ posh estate at the same time as the caterers and florist.

“You look stunning, an absolute goddess,” Alice raved. The diminutive mayor’s wife was still in her bathrobe. “Are you still seeing the, urn, Batliner boy? What’s his name?”

“James. And no, James and I are no longer an item.”

Alice frowned. “Not because of this police business, I hope.”

“No, it happened before my arrest.” Hours before, come to think of it. Could there be a connection? At first she’d thought Michael was crazy for thinking James was involved, but the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d started to wonder. He’d asked her out the first time just days after the date of the Art Deco Museum heist.

“He’ll be here tonight, I believe,” Alice said. “I hope that won’t be uncomfortable for you.”

Wendy smiled and shook her head. “Listen,
there’ll be so many people here, I’ll probably never see him.” And if she did, she added silently, she looked so awesome that James’s date—whoever she was—would seem a frump by comparison. She found that the mean-spirited thought gave her no pleasure at all. She really didn’t care what James did.

She only cared about Michael, she realized with a painful thud of her heart. She’d fallen in love with him, crazy as that seemed. He’d started out as her nemesis, he’d become her champion, and now he was detached and impersonal. She would definitely prefer the verbal sparring that had marked their first day together to the coolness between them now.

At least she wouldn’t have to worry about running into him at the party. Though he’d once worked under the guest of honor, the retiring Walt Patterson, he’d made it quite clear that froufrou parties weren’t his thing.

“You’d better get dressed,” Wendy said, patting Alice on the shoulder. “T minus forty-five minutes and counting.”

The first guests started arriving at eight o’clock on the dot. Mr. and Mrs. Munn were there to greet them, resplendent in their formal attire. Champagne flowed, classical music drifted on the air, and the canapés started to disappear with heartening regularity. The crowd flowed from room to room, spilling out onto the patio as the number of guests increased steadily.

Wendy caught sight of James with a tall, cool blonde on his arm. The woman was more his style than she was, Wendy decided without even a twinge of
regret. She intended to stay out of his way so there would be no need for any awkward conversation.

Alice caught up with her in the kitchen, where Wendy supervised the arrangement of a cheese tray destined for the library.

“Oh, Wendy, there you are. I hate to ask you this, because I know you’re busy—”

“What is it, Mrs. Munn?” she asked pleasantly, steeling herself for a problem.

“It’s just that my little Misha is locked up in our bedroom, and if you could take her for a short walk in the garden so she can tinkle …”

Misha was Alice’s Yorkshire terrier, the tiniest mammal Wendy had ever seen, not counting mice, and Wendy adored him. “I’ll be happy to walk him,” she said, putting one final sprig of parsley on the cheese tray before nodding her approval. She could definitely use a breath of fresh air.

“When you get back, I’ll introduce you to the guest of honor,” Alice said. “He’s probably not a good prospect for you—he and his wife are retiring in Tahiti or someplace—but he’s got lots of friends.”

Wendy wondered why she hadn’t seen Captain Patterson yet. For a guest of honor, he sure was keeping a low profile.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t coming,” Joe said when he caught sight of Michael entering the drawing room at the mayor’s mansion. “What changed your mind? Sharp tie.”

Michael pulled at the tie in question. He’d bought a new shirt and tie that afternoon, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want Wendy seeing him with all these hoity-toity people and noticing frayed cuffs.

“I’m here on business,” he said. “James Batliner is on the guest list, and I’m going to collect some samples from him.”

“Some sam—you mean hair, saliva, that kind of thing?” Joe’s eyes widened. “You’re in deep doo-doo if he catches you.”

“He won’t catch me. He’s so gaga over his date that he won’t notice if I stick him with a syringe and draw blood.” He nodded toward James and his new conquest, an anorectic blonde with a flat chest and no color in her face. Under his breath, Michael muttered, “I can’t believe he would prefer her over Wendy.”

“Different strokes,” Joe said. “I’ll help you nail the guy. What do you want me to do?”

“See if you can spot a stray hair on his jacket,” Michael said. “He’s never met you, so he won’t be suspicious if you tell him you’re brushing lint off him. I’m going to nab his champagne glass—if he ever puts it down.”

“Uh-oh, there he goes, toward the patio.”

Michael started his way through the crowded room, enduring greetings and handshakes from several former coworkers he’d known when he’d worked patrol under Walt Patterson a zillion years before. He didn’t want to appear anxious and alert his prey, yet he didn’t want to lose sight of Batliner, either.

He’d just extricated himself from a particularly friendly female Internal Affairs detective when a vision across the room stopped him cold, then made him flush hot.

It was Wendy, holding a tiny dog and looking like some kind of sea nymph in a pale green dress that clung to her every lush curve. He fancied he could even make out the outline of her nipples through the clingy fabric. Then he realized he wasn’t the only one watching her, and he experienced a flash of possessiveness that bordered on insanity. He’d never before wanted to throw a woman over his shoulder caveman fashion and haul her back to his lair, mark her with his brand.

He was about to tear himself away when she caught his gaze. They stared at each other for easily five seconds while time stood still and the room around him disappeared. Then she looked away, and the world righted itself again.

He had to talk to her, he decided. He had to confront her about her father and at least hear what she had to say about it.

One good thing: Wendy was about as safe as she could be. Who would bother her when she was surrounded by a hundred-plus cops?

The crowd shifted, and he lost sight of her. When it shifted again, it was clear she was gone from the room.

Michael made a mental note to look for her after he completed his mission. Then he planned to get out of this place and home to a cold beer and a basketball
game on TV. A guy could take only so much small talk and teensy hors d’oeuvres.

James and his date had been heading toward the French doors and the patio when last Michael had seen them. He headed resolutely that way.

Outside, the air smelled like spring flowers mixed with chlorine from the lake-size swimming pool, but it was better than inside, where the overlay of aftershave and musky perfume was enough to turn his stomach. A country band was tuning up on the patio, and some of the younger guests were gathering there, anticipating some good two-stepping music.

Joe immediately approached him, his hand in the pocket of his trousers. “Hey. I’ve got a beauty of a two-inch blond hair from Batliner’s collar. What should I do with it?”