Assumed Identity (17 page)

She turned back to Leon and smiled. “I’ll pull stems out of the back and fill in where they’ll show in the wedding pictures.” What was one missing box of long-stemmed red roses, anyway? In her mind, the decorations already looked like the floral blanket awarded to a Kentucky Derby winner, so it wasn’t like she didn’t have enough flowers to work with. “I’ll take care of this. Go ahead and start cleaning things up. The wedding starts in an hour.”

Leon quickly gathered up all the discarded tissue paper that had been wrapped around the arrangements. She couldn’t blame him for being eager to leave. “Anything else?”

“Maybe check with Mark to see if he needs help?” She nodded toward the offices turned dressing rooms on the far side of the lobby. “He should be delivering the bouquets by now.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you want me to go ahead and close up the van and move it?” He was looking toward the front doors, too, where a couple had just stepped in with an umbrella. “It’s starting to rain.”

“Sure.” She watched him drop the wad of tissue onto the plastic drop cloth they’d put down to protect the carpet while they set up. He’d rolled up the plastic about halfway down the aisle when Robin realized something was off. “Wait.” She counted off the sprays of roses and carnations decorating the end of each pew. “You said the van was empty?”

Leon’s green eyes narrowed. He was getting defensive again. “Yeah?”

She pointed to the remaining rows of undecorated pews. “Where are the rest of my flowers? Does Mark have them in the back somewhere?”

“I can ask him.”

“Never mind. You finish here and take care of the van. I’ll find Mark.”

Robin cursed the ticking clock and hurried down the aisle ahead of Leon. As soon as she stepped onto the marble tiles in the lobby, Jake moved from his post. He wrapped his hand around her elbow and pulled her away from the people coming in the front door.

“Are we done?” he asked. A couple of twentysomething women pointed to Jake, although he didn’t seem to notice. But when one of them whispered the phrase, “Ghost Rescuer,” his grip tightened and his shoulders expanded with a controlled breath. “I’m ready to leave anytime.”

“Not yet.” Robin pulled her arm from his grasp and searched the gathering crowd. “I promise I’m moving as fast as I can. I need to find my assistant.”

“Bow-tie guy?”

Robin swung her gaze up at the apt description. “Yes. Mark. Have you seen him?”

He pointed to one of the two closed doors at the south end of the lobby. “Ladies’ dressing room.”

“Thanks.” When Jake fell into step behind her, Robin turned and braced a hand at the center of his chest, offering him a wry smile. “
Ladies’
dressing room,” she emphasized.

No wonder he was so eager to follow her. The two women weren’t the only ones who’d noticed the big man dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt at the formal event. Robin observed at least two other groups chatting and pointing. Either they recognized Jake from that unfortunate picture in the newspaper this morning, or they were simply curious about why a man like him was attending a Kansas City society event. At least she’d convinced him to return his weapons out of sight beneath his pant leg, or else they’d really be talking. Or calling 911.

“Sorry about all this.” She knew the spotlight was the last place where this man wanted to be. She gave him a way out for a few moments. “I left Emma sleeping up front. Do you mind getting her so she’s not by herself?”

“Where will you be?”

“Tracking down someone who’s not doing his job. Don’t worry. I won’t leave the church.”

Robin dodged out of the way of flinging raindrops as a man in a pinstriped suit shook off his umbrella just inside the front door. Brian Elliott. Of course he’d show up at a gathering like this. Half his investment business was to see and be seen by Kansas City’s wealthiest and most influential people. She recognized the woman with him as his executive assistant. Robin exchanged a polite wave and kept moving. She didn’t need the kind of drama or delays Brian could bring into her life right now if she stopped for a conversation.

She’d been through two of the three carved-panel doors earlier in the day, helping the groomsmen pin on their boutonnieres and delivering the rosebuds Chloe Vanderham’s hairdresser was pinning to her hair. Robin knocked on the last door, expecting to step inside to find gushing bridesmaids and Chloe’s mother helping the bride get into her celebration gown.

Instead, she found three women in pink dresses and the mother of the bride standing in a circle around Mark Riggins, talking over each other as they looked at the pictures he was showing them on his phone.

“That’s pretty.”

“How about something for a dinner party?”

“All I need is the color palette or theme you want.”

“I can get it for that price?”

“Mark?” Robin interrupted. “What are you doing? We’re not finished in the sanctuary.” She nosed her way in to Mark, dispersing the group. “Do you have the rest of those flower sprays?”

Mark shut down the internet connection on his phone, but not before she’d gotten a glimpse of the bouquet he’d been showing them. He tucked the phone into his shirt pocket and patted Robin on the shoulder. “Relax, boss lady. Chloe ordered twelve sprays of roses. I put up twelve sprays.”

“I’m sure it was twelve down each side,” she argued in a hushed voice.

“Twenty-four?” He shook his head, gently correcting her. “Your order said twelve.”

No. Robin was certain that Chloe’s ruby-red excess had demanded flowers on each and every pew. She knew she’d been distracted with the assault and subsequent threats, but she’d also been a successful businesswoman for several years now. Success didn’t happen if she made costly mistakes like writing orders incorrectly.

Still, in front of the client wasn’t the place to decide whether she was losing her business acumen—or whether she was losing
it,
period. Robin inhaled a deep breath and tugged Mark toward the door. “Then come help Leon clean up. The ushers are already out there, ready to seat people.”

One of the attendants in pink stopped them on their way out the door. “Mark, do you have another card?” She hurried after them, waving a business card. “I can share them with my friends.”

Business card?

“May I?” Robin borrowed the woman’s card and read the decorative script. Mark Riggins: Affordable Flowers for Any Occasion. “What is this? This is your own website.”

Mark glanced over his shoulder at the guests in the lobby and tried to push Robin back into the dressing room. “It’s just a mockup of a card I designed.”

Robin planted her feet in the doorway and held her ground. “You’re working for me, but promoting your own business at a Robin’s Nest Floral event? Oh, my God. You never talked to the distributor, did you? Have you been stealing my product and selling it as your own?”

Three pink ladies and a glaring Chloe Vanderham gathered to watch the confrontation.

“You’re overreacting.” Mark pulled his card from Robin’s hand and handed it back to the attendant. “Can we have this discussion in private?”

“How is finding out that you’ve been stealing from me and my shop overreacting?”

With a noisy huff, Mark grabbed Robin’s arm and dragged her into the empty office next door. “You’re making a scene.”

A public argument at an event like this wouldn’t be good for her business, either. Robin shoved her fingers through her hair and paced across the small office to the edge of the desk there. “Please, Mark. We’ve been friends for a long time. Do you deny it?”

He locked the door and followed her to the desk without denying a thing. “It’s not that big a deal. I’ve borrowed a few items from the stockroom. I had some successful events while you were gone with the baby. It’s good publicity for your shop.”

“No, it’s good publicity for your online floral company.”

“Well, clearly I can run the business without you. I’m ready to branch out.”

“But you don’t run the business.” Robin had to put some space between them before she either smacked him or burst into tears at this betrayal. “You’re not responsible for paychecks. You don’t pay the bills. I do.”

She barely heard the soft knock on the door. “Robin?”

“That’s stealing, Mark.” She looked up into those gentle features that had been a part of nearly every working day for almost a decade now. “It hurts me to say this, but I have to fire you.”

He raised his hands in a placating gesture and closed the gap between them. “We can work together. Let me develop an online presence for you.”

“No.” She swatted his hands away when he grasped her shoulders. “How can I trust that you won’t keep cheating me?”

A louder knock shook the door in the frame behind her. “Robin. Is everything all right?”

Jake. Of course, he’d be worried about her being out of his sight. “I’ll be right out.”

Angry color was creeping above the neck of Mark’s bow tie. “Would you keep your voice down? We both have clients here.”

Of all the nerve. Robin pointed two fingers at him. “You owe me at least two thousand dollars. Either you repay every cent or I’m going to press charges.”

Mark snagged her wrist and squeezed it in his grip. “Press charges?”

“I’m giving you the option because of our friendship, but you know I’ll do it.” She tugged against his hold, but he wasn’t letting go. “Do you know how stressed I’ve been with all the crazy stuff happening around me? I trusted that you were taking care of my shop when I couldn’t be there. I thought you had my back.”

“I wasn’t hurting anybody.”

The sharp crack of splintering wood spun them both around as the door swung into the room and Jake stepped inside. He looked from Robin to Mark, who instantly released his grip on her, and back to Robin. “Everything okay?”

Mark sputtered beside her. “You just broke a door in the church. Who’s paying for that? Me, I suppose?” He tried to make a quick exit, but Jake was blocking the open doorway. He glanced over his shoulder at Robin and his slender shoulders sagged. “Add it to my tab.”

It wasn’t until she nodded that Jake stepped aside. “I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”

When Mark turned and walked out into the crowd of curious onlookers, Robin followed him to the door and clung to the splintered frame around the lock, scarcely aware of the organ music turning the guests’ attention back to the sanctuary. She drew in a heavy breath, wishing she felt better about knowing the truth. “One mystery solved.”

“Mark was cooking the books?” Jake came up behind her, cupping her shoulders. Robin leaned back against his solid strength. “Do you think he could have attacked you?” Jake asked against her ear. “Maybe to get you out of the way so he could recover any proof of his embezzlement?”

“I don’t know. Mark doesn’t seem like the violent type. Sneaky, yes—but swinging a baseball bat?” She turned when she could feel Jake stewing about something behind her. “What? Do
you
recognize Mark from the attack?”

“No, but...”
Answer
the
question
,
Jake
.
No
more
secrets
,
please
. He squeezed her hand where it rested against his chest. “Stay here.”

“That’s not an answer.” The crowd parted as Jake moved through it. He caught up with Mark Riggins on his way out the side door to the street. Something Jake said—or maybe the hand clamped over Mark’s shoulder—convinced him to turn around and come back into the office where Robin waited. “What are you doing?”

“Not a nice guy, remember?” Jake shoved Mark into the room, closed the door, then pushed Mark back against it, pinning him to the carved panels with a forearm pressed against his throat.

“Jake.” She tugged at his arm, but it wasn’t budging.

“What, you haven’t humiliated me enough?” The forearm caught beneath Mark’s chin and lifted him onto his toes. “Robin, call off your thug before he breaks my neck. That’s going to leave a mark.”

“I can do something worse if you don’t answer my questions,” Jake threatened. “Understand?”

Mark nodded.

“Jake?” Robin was more worried about Jake getting into trouble than Mark’s comfort. “You said he didn’t attack me.”

“A few nights ago, I followed you around the corner from Robin’s shop and saw you selling an envelope of photographs to a man wearing gloves.”

“You followed me?” Jake’s arm and Mark’s common sense quickly silenced that protest. He nodded.

“What pictures?” Like those horrible threats she’d been receiving in the mail? Mark had something to do with that? She didn’t know her friend at all, apparently.

“Who were those pictures of?” Jake prompted. “Robin?”

Mark glanced at Robin as his cheeks turned red from a dwindling oxygen supply.

“Tell him,” she ordered.

“Emma. They were pictures of Emma. I’m so sorry.”

“You sold pictures of my daughter?” Robin felt her own face heat up. She was livid. He got a break on cheating her business. But exploiting her daughter? “To some stranger?”

“Not lewd ones. Nothing illegal. Just pictures of her sleeping, or in her swing.” Mark didn’t seem to know whom he should be more afraid of. “The guy wanted them for his sister. She lost a baby and was really sad. He thought the pictures would cheer her up.”

“What guy?” Jake demanded.

Another terrible thought had Robin turning about the room. “Where’s Emma?”

“I left her with Shirley, the lady from your shop,” he assured her before resuming the inquisition. “What guy?”

“I don’t know his name. He came to the shop a couple of times while you were on maternity leave. Bought flowers. Paid cash. Left pretty quickly when he found out you weren’t there.” Mark’s face was as red as the checks on his tie now. “I was getting the money to pay you back. To get some cash back into the accounts before you figured out what I was doing.”

“Can you describe him?” Robin asked, as anxious to get eyes on her daughter as she was to find the truth. “The police can ask you these questions, too.”

“I don’t know. Brown hair. Business suit. Too buttoned-down and uptight for my tastes.” Robin tugged on Jake’s arm again, and this time he let Mark go. She grabbed Mark by the scruff of his starched collar herself and opened the door. She swept her gaze through the lobby, searching the line of waiting guests for one in particular. “There.” She pointed to Brian Elliott, leaning down to hear a comment from his assistant. Mark knew Brian, didn’t he? She’d dated Brian Elliott for almost two years before she’d broken it off. What other man in a suit showed up at her shop on a regular basis? “Is he the man you sold the pictures to?”