CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (16 page)

            Kate smiled up at him, then led him toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

            He looked at her with an eyebrow cocked in the air. “I thought I just told you I’m careful. That means I do not eat anything you cook,” he teased.

            “Okay, smart ass, I was going to make you a sandwich.”

            “Sandwich would be good since I don’t recall eating a whole lot of dinner. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

            Her face clouded. “I’m sorry, Skip.”

            “Stop apologizing. It’s okay, darlin’. Now get me some grub, woman.”

            She made him a sandwich while he locked up his gun.

            He was almost finished gobbling it down when Kate sat down on his knee and snuggled her head against his shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

            Maria found a quarter of a turkey sandwich on the kitchen table the next morning.

* * *

            Dolph was sitting in Skip’s office the next morning, shooting the breeze. “I hear from Rose that Cherise was hopping mad that you didn’t come inside to comfort her last night, after the cops left,” he said to the younger man, who was sucking down his third cup of coffee.

            “I had much better things to do than listen to her hysterics,” Skip said, flashing Dolph a grin. “Kate and I had a fight and we were right in the middle of the makin’ up part when the damn phone rang.”

            Dolph grinned back at him. “You got a good woman there, son, and don’t you ever forget it.”

            “Don’t worry. Cherise may have her fantasies but they are just that. I’m a one-woman man and I have me my wo... Aw, shit!”

            Rose was standing in his open doorway, sheets of paper under her arm again.

            Skip heaved a weary sigh. “Give ’em to me.” He held out his hand.

            There was only one picture, of himself standing in the packed conference room, talking. The caption read
Boyfriend or Bodyguard? He Claims the Latter
. Not great but not all that bad either. Skip started reading the attached article.

            “Why such a grim face, Rose?” he asked, as he continued reading.

            Then he got to the last paragraph.
Jim Bolton, Ms. Martin’s publicist, when asked to comment, said, “The man does seem to be protesting a bit too much, isn’t he?”

            Skip banged his fist down on his desk, then tossed the pages in Dolph’s direction. “Cut to the last line. In one sentence, that man undid everything we accomplished yesterday.”

            “And no grounds for defamation. They only reported what you said and then what Bolton said,” Rose pointed out.

            “Why’d he do that?” Dolph asked, as he skimmed the end of the article.

            Rose shrugged. “Probably to keep the story going. What’s the saying in showbiz, ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’”

            “That’s it. I am done with that woman.” Skip grabbed up his phone and started to punch in Cherise’s number.

            “Wait, Skip,” Rose said. “Let’s think this through. Threatening to quit is the only leverage we have with her. Once we’ve done it, she’ll be pissed and who knows what she’ll tell the press then.”

            “She’s got an excellent point, son.”

            Skip hung up the phone without hitting the last number. “So what do you recommend?” he asked his partner.

            “I’m inclined to say, sit tight and let the whole thing die down. Bolton didn’t completely undo what the press conference accomplished. And the rags seem to be taking the lawsuit threat at least somewhat seriously, ’cause there’s no additional speculation. Anything we try to do at this point may just stir things up more.”

            “I’m inclined to agree with her,” Dolph said.

            “Okay, I’m out-voted. And to tell you the truth, I think you’re right. Goes against the grain but we sit tight. We’re going to need guards for tomorrow after all, for Liz’s party... Damn, I better call Kate. She sees the paparazzi outside again and I haven’t warned her, I’ll be in the doghouse for a year.”

            “You don’t own a dog,” Rose pointed out.

            “She’ll get one, just so she can make me sleep with it,” Skip replied as he reached for his phone.

            It rang under his hand. He picked it up. “Canfield.” He listened for a couple minutes. “I think that was the right thing to do, Cherise,” he said, grinning at Rose and Dolph. “Yeah, they’d forgotten who was the boss.”

            After another few seconds, he said, “Thanks for the invite, Cherise, but I need to steer clear of the farm for awhile. I don’t want the paparazzi to follow me out there.” A pause while Skip listened. “Okay. I’ll call later to check on you.”

            He hung up and said, “Hot damn! She fired her agent and Bolton.”

            He quickly dialed his wife’s office number, and, of course, got voicemail. She would be in session at ten-fifteen. “Hey, darlin’,” he drawled cheerfully into the phone. “I got a good news, bad news, good news thing goin’ here. Call me when you get a break, and in the meantime, stay inside.”

            As he hung up, he asked Rose, “Where are Mac and Ben? They available to ward off the paparazzi again?”

            “Mac was going by the restaurant this morning to check on his new manager. I’ll send him over to the house from there,” Rose said. “Ben’s back out at Cherise’s. You want me to pull him off of her again?”

            “No, let’s keep the lady happy for now. I think I’ll go pick up my wife myself this afternoon. Any press hanging around can watch me give her a big fat kiss right in the middle of the parking lot.”

            “Okay, let me call Mac and then I need you guys to help me with something important,” Rose said.

            “What’s that?” her partner asked.

            “You need to help me figure out what the hell to get Liz for her birthday.”

            Dolph jumped up. “That’s what wives are for. I’m outta here.”

            “That’s what I need,” Rose said. “A wife to take care of the girlie stuff.”

            Skip snorted. “Somehow I don’t see Mac going along with that role.”

            “Not in this lifetime,” Rose agreed, and went off to call her honey bun with his new assignment.

* * *

            At lunch time, Kate was intrigued by Skip’s message. But before she could call him back, her office phone rang.

            It was Cherise. She filled Kate in on the morning’s events and apologized that her publicist had stirred the pot again. “I think I’d better not come to see you on Monday,” she said. “Just in case the paparazzi are watching your office.”

            It was just the opening Kate needed. “I’ve been thinking it may not be a good idea for us to continue working together, for that and other reasons. In order for a therapist to do a good job, you can’t be too involved in the client’s life. Otherwise, you lose your objectivity and you can’t provide good guidance anymore.”

            After a pregnant pause, Cherise said, “So you’re bailing on me.”

            Kate gritted her teeth. Not the reaction she had hoped for. Client abandonment was grounds for a malpractice suit and she knew it was a hot button for Cherise, considering her history with her father. “I don’t want to, but Skip is very concerned about the possible repercussions should any of these jerks see you coming into my building. At best they’ll assume you’re here for some kind of confrontation, which will stir everything up again, and at worst, they’ll track you back to the farm. Skip is really worried about that, and so am I. We do not want your sanctuary to be discovered.”

            Kate heard a sigh. “I guess you’re right,” Cherise said.

            “Let me give some thought to who would be the best person for you to work with, and I’ll call you later with a referral, okay?”

            “Yeah, that’ll be fine.” Another sigh. “Why is life so complicated sometimes?”

            Kate was suddenly struck by how young and alone this woman was. Her voice gentle, she said, “That’s a very good question, for which I have no good answer. There are just times when reality sucks, but Rob Franklin gave me some great advice one time. Whenever life is rough, he tells himself, ‘A few months from now, this will all just be a bad memory.’ I’ve started doing that myself, when life get complicated. It does help to put things in perspective.”

            A low chuckle. “Only a lawyer would come up with a way to turn ‘this too shall pass’ into a complex sentence.”

            Kate smiled. “Yeah, he can be wordy sometimes. You take care, Cherise. I’ll get that name to you by this evening.”

            Kate sighed as she hung up the phone. She had expected to feel elated to be rid of this client, but all she felt was sad. Cherise was truly a poor little rich girl. The only people she could trust were the private investigator she’d hired and the therapist she’d seen less than a half dozen times. And both of them couldn’t wait to get away from her.

* * *

            At one o’clock the next day, six burly guys, plus Mac, were scattered around Skip and Kate’s property. Only a few paparazzi were hanging out on the front sidewalk, but Skip wasn’t taking any chances.

            The preparations for Liz’s party went fairly smoothly, despite it being an armed camp. The Franklin daughters arrived at one-thirty to help Kate decorate. Maria was busy cooking in the kitchen. Skip was charged with watching the kids. The guests were due at four and Rob and Liz at five.

            At two-thirty, Skip heard a beeping noise from out front. The mail carrier was unwilling to run the gauntlet to get to the mailbox on the front porch. The paparazzi had swelled to a small crowd of nine. Word must have gone out on their slimy little grapevine that something was happening at the Canfields’ house.

            Skip told Edie to watch her brother for a minute while he jogged out to the street to get the mail. He ignored the questions yelled in his direction, but gave a jaunty wave to the female reporter who’d snapped a shot of him kissing Kate the day before in front of her office building.

            Inside he was chased out of the kitchen where they usually sorted the mail. He took it into the study instead, checking on the kids playing in the living room on the way through.

            He stared at the envelope for a few seconds, perplexed. Then he went to the back door and called to Kate. “Come look at something, please.”

            In the study, he handed her the envelope, addressed to her with Rob’s return address.

            “What in the world?” Kate said. “He never mails me stuff. He calls. Maybe it’s something to do with the party.” She opened it. Inside was a sheet of paper with one paragraph typed on it.

            She read it, then handed it to Skip, her expression a mixture of anxiety and confusion. He skimmed it quickly, then went back to the top and read it again more slowly.

           
Sweetheart, I can’t wait until next Wednesday to see you again. Can you get away to meet me before then? I’ve taken the liberty of reserving our usual room at the Towson Hilton, for four on Monday. Hope you can make it. We can tell them we had an ‘emergency meeting.’ LOL. Love, Rob.

            “This is crazy. Who the hell could have sent that?” Kate said.

            “You sure Rob didn’t? Maybe as a joke.”

            “Hell, no. Rob would
never
joke about having a usual room at the Hilton. He gets far more upset than I do when people assume we’re lovers. He’s just old-fashioned enough to feel like he should defend the lady’s honor, mine and/or Liz’s. Besides, he’s a technophobe. Fran handles his e-mails for him at work. He doesn’t have a personal account. I’ll bet he has no clue what LOL even means.”

            “Might be one of the paparazzi trying to stir things up,” Skip speculated.

            “That’s got to be it,” Kate said, relaxing a little. “It can’t be anybody who knows us very well.”

            “I don’t know. They got the
sweetheart
right. That’s what he calls you. And they know you usually meet on Wednesdays,” Skip said.

            “Any of these clowns would know that from watching us. And the one who took the picture in Mac’s Place last week could have overheard him calling me
sweetheart
.”

            “Do you want to call him, or wait until they get here?” Skip asked.

            “Neither one,” Kate said. “I don’t want to ruin the party for him or Liz. We keep this to ourselves for now. I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him about it.”

            “Okay, I guess.” Skip wasn’t totally convinced that was the best course of action.

            “Damn it!” Kate’s eyes pooled with angry tears. “Who’s doing this to us? Why can’t they leave us alone?”

            Skip hesitated. Then he tossed the letter in the direction of his desk and gathered her into his arms. “Don’t let this ruin the party for you, Kate, ’cause then the bastard’s won.”

            Kate leaned back in the circle of his arms, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I love you, Skip Canfield. How many men would automatically assume this was a hoax?” She smiled up at him.

            He smiled back at her, trying to hide the guilt. Because for one awful second, he had thought the letter
was
from Rob. But he knew it wasn’t. In addition to all the reasons Kate had given, Rob was not stupid. He would not send a letter to his lover’s house where her husband might intercept it.

* * *

            Rob and Liz arrived exactly at five. Kate was praying the reporters wouldn’t call out some question that would reveal the fact that thirty-eight people were huddled in silence in her backyard.

            Once one of the guards had gotten the two of them safely to the porch, Rob wrapped his arms around his petite wife, lifting her off her feet as he gave her an exuberant kiss. Putting her down, he called out to the reporters, “This is my wife, ladies and gentlemen.”