Cat Burglar in Training (22 page)

“It’s Renee’s birthday,” I said. “And she especially asked that you be allowed to stay with her.”

“But what about school?” Amber’s button nose crinkled as her chubby hands pushed the seatbelt home with a loud click. “I like school.”

My daughter got her stubbornness from my father. Ben and Hannah played an equal part in forming her need to know the why of everything. I scowled in the driver’s mirror.

“It will be a holiday. Renee is looking forward to seeing you. And Aunt Grace.”

“I like Aunt Grace. She gives me chocolate.”

She’d given me chocolate too. “Good chocolate,” I agreed. I backed the Mini out of the small garage.

The terrible trio stood inside the house. I knew they were watching because I saw the curtain in the front room flap. We’d said our goodbyes inside since we didn’t want to alert anyone to our departure.

My gaze traveled often to the rear vision mirror. No one following that I could see. I merged with the motorway traffic, still keeping a wary watch. The nerves lurching around my stomach didn’t subside until I pulled up outside Alistair and Grace’s house.

The hunter green door flew open, and Alistair hustled us inside.

“I’ll get Amber’s bag.” I returned in minutes, fairly sure no one had witnessed our entrance to the flat.

I found Grace and Amber in the kitchen. Telltale chocolate marks outlined Amber’s face already.

“You look nice,” Grace said in approval.

I should do. Even though the final result looked casual, I’d spent two hours going through my wardrobe, discarding one outfit after another. I recalled the jumble of clothes on my bed with a slight frown. Hannah didn’t need to be a psychiatrist to pick up on the message in my bedroom. Make no mistake—I was nervous about my date with Kahu.

“Mama’s going out with the cop.”

Grace’s gasp rivaled thunder. Right now, dozens of neighbors were peering out their windows searching for black clouds. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the storm to hit.

“You’re going out with a cop?” Grace’s double chin bounced up and down to highlight her agitation.

My eyes popped open. I sucked in a calming breath. “Yes.”

Keep it simple
. Grace didn’t need to know the facts.

“Alistair.” Grace’s arms flapped through the air, and I took a step back out of the range of fire. “Evie’s dating a cop. I mean, of all the men in the world, why would she pick a copper?”

Alistair gave an uncharacteristic grin. “I know.”

“You know?” She clapped her hands over Amber’s ears and whispered loudly. “What sort of example is that to set for a young, impressionable cat…ah, child?” The end of the sentence came out as a loud wail.

“I hardly think it’s the end of the world. In fact, there are things Evie could learn from a copper.”

“Ah! Pillow talk.”

“Mama, what’s pillow talk?”

I winced. What was the fascination with my sex life? I mean, heck, I didn’t actually have one.

“Mama, what’s pillow talk?”

“Grace will explain it to you.” I shot a
take that
at Grace, and she greeted my words with a grimace.

“Would you like another chocolate bunny?” she asked Amber. “Then we’ll go upstairs, and I’ll show you where you’re sleeping tonight.”

I checked my watch. It was still early but I could use the time to further my private investigation. “I have to go now, sweet pea.” I squatted in front of Amber and enfolded her in a crushing hug.

“Mama, too tight,” she protested.

I lightened up, but the lump of emotion in my throat grew. Sending Amber away to France was for the best. I’d come to the decision using logic and clear thinking, but now the moment for goodbye arrived, I wanted to snatch up my daughter and tell her she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you ready to go upstairs and find your surprise?” Grace asked.

Unwillingly, I let Amber go. Amber skipped over to Grace, clasped her hand and trotted off without a backward glance. Regret ached inside me as I climbed to my feet.

“Don’t worry, Evie.” Alistair patted my shoulder in an awkward manner. “Amber will be safe with Grace.”

The stupid lump came back to clog my throat, and I swallowed loudly. “I know she will, but I’m going to miss her so much.”

“Of course you will,” Alistair said in his crisp upper-class accent. “But you can’t do a proper job if you’re worrying about your daughter’s safety. It’s better this way. You can concentrate on the job at hand, pay off the debt and get rid of the element of danger.”

Of course, he was right. A light switched on inside my head. “What do you know about the debt?”

“Charles told me last week. He feels bad about letting you down. I think he needed someone to talk to.”

“He could have talked to me.”

“Ah, but he feels guilty for putting you under pressure.”

Okay, I could understand that, but he wasn’t the only one at fault. I shouldn’t have lingered in France, hiding from my problems for so long.

“He shouldn’t worry,” I said. “I’ll talk to him about it when I get home.” That’s all it took. A conversation with someone outside the family to make me see we needed to communicate more.

“Off you go to meet your young man.”

“No horrified comments?” I asked, unable to resist.

“I’m reserving judgment.”

“Thanks, I think.” I waved and headed for the door.

Once again, I surveyed the street, the vehicles parked in front of the block of flats and men, women and children who ambled along the pavement. No one stood out as suspicious, but then, I probably didn’t look like a cat burglar either.

I drove directly to Matthew Beauchamp’s house in Holland Park. My timing was perfect. I arrived just as Mrs. Beauchamp pulled up in a black cab. I recognized her from my online research. Unfortunately, I hadn’t found any photos of their children to help answer my questions. She was laden with shopping bags. Matthew Beauchamp was notable by his absence.

I hadn’t seen him since Edinburgh. This was pretty much a spur-of-the-moment visit, and I still hadn’t come to a decision as to how I’d approach him. Whether I’d take a confrontational stance or a more clandestine approach. While I considered the matter, the cabbie exited the building and drove off.

Without a solid plan in mind, I climbed from my car, meandered across the street and leaned on the intercom.

“Yes?” The smooth, cultured tone gave away the expensive education and moneyed background, while her French accent probably captivated most males who came into her vicinity.

“Lady Eve Fawkner to see Mrs. Beauchamp.”

A click sounded when the lock of the outer security door disengaged. Well, that was easier than I’d expected. I pushed my way through, marched over to the lift and once inside, pressed the button for the flat on the top floor.

The lift opened to a well-lit area with thick woolen carpet, an expensive-looking sculpture—my brow crinkled as I tried to discern its message—and several potted palms.

I strode over to the wooden door leading to the nearest flat and thumped.

Veronica Beauchamp stood in the open doorway. “Lady Eve. How nice of you to call.”

I stretched out my hand in greeting. “I’m pleased to meet you at last.”

“You should have rung first.” Censure repeated in her frown. “I’m on my way out.”

“This won’t take a moment.”

Her face wasn’t one I’d noticed at any of the social functions I’d attended recently. Tall and lean, with jaw-length hair in a blunt cut, she moved with a dancer’s grace. She also smelled like the inside of a bottle of whisky. Her delicately arched brows rose.

“I’m involved with the children’s charity Wishes. You might have heard of us.”

Her right foot tapped an impatient tattoo on the cream carpet. “No.”

My mouth strained to drop the friendly smile I’d adopted. “We were wondering if you would care to donate—”

“No.”

Okaaay.
“Thank you for seeing me. If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

I forced a brighter, saccharine-sweet smile, accepting the rebuttal with good nature. Inside, I railed. I’d hardly stepped one foot inside the flat.

“Goodbye.” I headed for the lift. My first approach might have failed, but I’d seen enough to learn that entry into the flat would be fairly simple.

So be it.
I made my way back to my car, senses screaming I’d find proof as to the identity of my daughter’s father in that flat.

Deep in thought, I drove to the restaurant where Kahu suggested we meet. Pacifica was fairly new on the scene, and they specialized in Pacific Rim food. Translation—lots of seafood and vegetables with a hint of Kahu’s Kiwi roots.

I arrived late, and that flustered me. Coupled with escalated nerves, this was a great combo for a girl wanting to look cool and in control. I strode into the restaurant foyer. Soft music was playing—I didn’t know the tune but it was easy on the ear and supposedly soothing. I fixed a smile on my lips.

“I’m meeting Kahu Williams,” I said to the young girl behind the desk.

“You’re with Kahu?” Another Kiwi. The accent was very distinctive. I must have looked put out because she said, “He’s over in the far corner. I’ll show you over.”

I followed her through the restaurant, winding between diners and tables and skirting the pocket-sized dance floor. Kahu rose when he saw me.

“Hi,” he said and kissed me. The soft glow in his eyes when I pulled away helped set me at ease. “Would you like a drink?” he asked after he seated me.

“Mineral water, please.”

“Sparkling?” At my nod, he added to the hovering hostess, “And a beer. Steinlager, thanks.”

The hostess frowned over her shoulder as she walked away.

“Do you know her?”

“Carly?” Kahu reached across the table to grasp my hand. His touch started a lively tingle on my palm. The sensation spread down my arm and sent blood surging to my cheeks. “Carly’s family lives next to mine. She was the first person I looked up when I arrived in London. She’s like a sister.”

“Oh.” Carly’s interest was clearly romantic, but Kahu had either missed the fact or intended to ignore it.

A different waiter arrived with our drinks and poured them into glasses with a flourish.

“How’s work going?” I asked, dodging anything personal for refuge in casual chitchat. “Have you found out who shot Catherine?”

“We rounded up a few witnesses but it was fairly dark. No one saw where the shot came from.”

A shudder snaked down my body. “So you’re not even close to charging anyone?”

“No.”

“That isn’t comforting.” But it wouldn’t stop me from carrying out my investigation.

“Let’s change the subject.” Kahu ran a calloused finger across my palm. I suppressed my reaction with difficulty. “I don’t know much about you. I’d like to know more.”

I went all gooey inside before reality intruded. I couldn’t tell him about my past or my present, come to that. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Are you ready to order?” Carly bounded up to the table.

Kahu picked up the red leather menus we’d ignored so far and handed me one. “The lamb is good, so is the fish.” A lopsided grin appeared. “Everything is good.”

I glanced down the menu. “I’ll go with the lamb medallion and tamarillo sauce.”

“The seafood taster for me. The one with the green-lipped mussels.”

“Wine?”

“No wine for me,” I said.

“Another glass of sparkling water, and a glass of the Marlborough Chardonnay.”

Carly nodded and strode off in the direction of the kitchen.

“And what about your stepbrother? Ihaka. How is your investigation going?”

Kahu’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “Slow. I know he worked for Richard Beauchamp, but trying to track Ihaka’s movements and contact his friends…” He shook his head. “The address Ihaka gave us was a squat. The house was full of tourists on working holidays, transitory types. By the time I got there, anyone who knew him had moved on.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure something will turn up.”

“I hope so. I hate disappointing my parents.”

I thought of Father and silently agreed. “Tell me about Wellington. You grew up there, right?”

“It’s the capital of New Zealand. It’s cold. It’s windy.”

Our meals arrived, and I savored every morsel. We talked about New Zealand, about the latest movies and our favorite songs. We laughed together. Then it was time to leave.

My nerves had settled, and I’d enjoying chatting so much I’d forgotten about the end of the night.

The conclusion.

My apprehension climbed to pre-dinner levels and beyond.

“Did you drive here or catch a cab?” Kahu asked. “I caught a cab.”

“I drove. Would you like a ride back to your flat?”

He studied me in silence. “You don’t have to give me a ride home. There’s no pressure. No matter what you decide, I’m not walking away again.”

The silence lengthened while we stared at each other. I weighed his words, studied his face. He seemed sincere. All I needed to do was give my trust. A concept that seemed simple, but the execution might prove tricky. Out of sight beneath the table, my fingers curled to dig into my thighs. The prick of fingernails forced me to concentrate.

I stood. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Sure,” Kahu said easily.

I carried on a silent debate all the way to Kahu’s flat, interspersed with the odd snippet of casual conversation.

“It’s the block of flats opposite the park.”

The park in question was one of the small fenced greens—a nature area for common use by the surrounding homeowners and tenants. Kahu caught me glancing at it when I switched off the ignition.

“Would you like to go for a walk before I make coffee?”

Good idea.
I turned to offer my agreement to the idea. My words jammed against Kahu’s lips as he stole a kiss, and, just like that, my panic seeped away.

Kahu’s hands tunneled into my hair, tugging strands from my chignon until locks fell to my shoulders. I didn’t care. I was too busy savoring the rich, heady taste of his mouth. His lips wandered to the tender skin of my neck. He used his teeth.

I jerked but not in pain. Kahu soothed the love bite with his tongue and repeated the scrape of teeth. The second time wasn’t such a shock and it shoved a jolt of pleasure across my nerve endings. A moan escaped, and heat surged throughout my body, converging in a single spot between my thighs. Greedy, I sought more, burrowing closer to Kahu’s hard, muscled chest.