CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (19 page)

            Billy gave him an annoyed look, then went back to stacking his blocks in a wobbly tower.

            “How did these get here?” Skip asked Maria.

            “Man come to door, wit’ de letters on hiz hat, FDT.”

            FTD. So they were from a legitimate florist. He looked down at the card again.
Well, duh.
There was the florist’s name, address and telephone number in small print across the bottom.

            Skip picked up the phone and dialed the number. The lady who answered reluctantly described the gentleman who had ordered the roses to be delivered to 2610 Linden Lane.

            “Tall guy, dark hair, some gray in it,” she said.

            “How did he pay?”

            “Cash.”

            That was no help. He thanked her and hung up.

            Skip sat down at the table and rubbed his hand over his face. What did this mean? He thought about calling Kate, decided to touch base with Ben first.

            “She’s been running all over town, but I think this is the last stop,” Ben said, an indulgent chuckle in his voice. “We’re in the grocery store. Hey, I got some good news for you. No sign of any paparazzi today, and I triple-checked before taking her over to Rob’s for lunch.”

            “Rob’s office?”

            “No, his house.”

            “Did you go inside with her?”

            “No, I stayed out front, just in case some asshole showed up with a camera.”

            “What’s your ETA?”

            “Soon, I think. She’s barrelin’ down the aisle ahead of me, headin’ for the cashiers.” Ben was chuckling again as he disconnected.

            Skip stared at the roses. “What time did these come?” he asked Maria.

            She paused in her dinner preparations. “Bout tree o’clock,” she said, after a moment of thought.

            Three. Right timing for a thank you gift after a noon rendezvous. Stop off at the florist’s on the way back to the office.

            What the hell was he thinking? Kate wouldn’t cheat on him. His heart ached in his chest at the mere possibility. Obviously someone was trying to get him to consider that possibility. The question was who, and why?

            Skip went into the study. He wanted to examine the wording again on that bogus love letter. See if it would give him any clues as to who might have sent it.

            The letter wasn’t on his desk.

            Skip looked on Kate’s desk, the shelves, the top of the file cabinet. The letter was gone.
Now, what the hell does that mean? Did she throw it away?

            He shook his head in confusion and frustration. Trying to ignore the doubt that was starting to nag at his gut, he thought,
Once the kids are in bed, we’ll have to try to figure out what all this means.

            Skip sat down at his desk and booted up the family computer to check their e-mail. He logged onto KateNSkip2007 at yahoo.com. Hmm, still no reply from his high school friend. They’d been back and forth trying to set up a time to get together when Dave would be in D.C. next week on business.

            Thinking maybe his last message hadn’t gotten through, Skip went into Sent Mail to find it and forward it again. Starting to scroll down the list of messages, he suddenly stopped, his heart gone cold in his chest. There was a message sent to MrLawyer123 at gmail. The subject line read ‘Hey Lover.’

            He clicked on the message.
Hi, I miss you so much. Can’t wait until tomorrow. Love, Kate.
He checked the date. It had been sent yesterday at five-fifteen. He hadn’t gotten home until almost six.

            Skip sat back in his chair, unable for a moment to even process what this could mean. This couldn’t be what it looked like. It just couldn’t. For one thing, Kate wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave the message in the Sent Mail list. But maybe she’d just forgotten to go back in and delete it.

           
What am I thinking? Kate’s not cheating on me.
He printed out the message, then folded the sheet of paper and put it in his pocket.

            He couldn’t think straight. “Damn it, you’re an investigator,” he muttered to himself. What was the best way to investigate this? After another moment of hesitation, he clicked on Compose Mail and typed:
Dear heart, I had a wonderful time today. And Skip doesn’t suspect a thing. All my love, Kate.
After adding the MrLawyer123 address, he moved the cursor to the Send button. His finger hovered for a long moment before clicking the mouse key.

            Skip went into the kitchen. “Go ahead and feed the children, Maria. When Kate comes home, she and I need to talk about something.” He carried the vase of roses into their bedroom and put it on her dresser.

            By the time he returned to the study, there was a new message in the e-mail inbox from MrLawyer123. It just said
Same goes for me. I’ll call you tomorrow. Rob
. The text of Skip’s outgoing message had been deleted from the reply. This message, by itself, looked totally innocent.

            So then why would Rob be so indiscreet as to send flowers?

            He printed out the message he had sent and the reply. Those sheets joined the first one in his pocket. But he wasn’t at all sure how he was going to approach all this with his wife.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

            Skip met Kate as she came through the front door, arms full of bags. He helped her bring in the rest of the groceries, sitting the bags on the counter. “Maria’ll put them away. She’s gonna feed the kids. We need to talk.” He headed down the hall.

            “What’s going on?” Kate asked, wondering why he was so serious. He hadn’t cracked a smile since she came in the door. She followed him to the bedroom. He ignored her question until the door was closed. Then he pointed to the roses.

            “Oh, sweetheart, they’re lovely.” Kate’s face lit up. “You scoundrel. You had me going there. I thought you were pissed at me for something.”

            “They’re not from me,” he said in a low, even voice, handing her the card.

            “What the hell?” she said after looking at both blank sides of it.

            “Funny, those were my exact words.” Skip did not sound amused, however.

            “What the devil does this mean?” Kate said.

            Skip gave a small shake of his head as his only answer. After a beat, he asked, “Have you seen the letter? It’s missing.”

            “What letter?”

            “The letter. It was on my desk, now it’s gone. Do you know where it is?”

            “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

            “The love note from... that came on Saturday?”

            Kate stared at him for several beats. “I haven’t seen that letter since Saturday afternoon. I have no idea where it might be,” she finally said.

            She seemed genuinely confused and Skip could tell she was starting to get pissed at his interrogation. He ran his fingers through his hair, stared at the ceiling for a moment and blew out his breath.

            He took the papers out of his pocket and handed them to her one at a time, waiting for her to read each one. When she had finished the last one, she looked up at him and asked, “Where did these come from?”

            “First one was in our Sent Mail box, sent out yesterday afternoon. Second one I sent to that address. Third one was the reply that came back within minutes.” He kept his voice as neutral as he could get it, waiting for her reaction.

            Kate sat down on the side of the bed and read the three messages again. “This is totally insane,” she finally said. “How did this first one get into our e-mail account?”

            “Good question.” He was not able, this time, to keep all of the anger out of his voice.

            She turned to stare across the room at him. “You don’t honestly think that Rob and I are having an affair?” she asked, her tone incredulous.

            “I don’t honestly know what to think. On the one hand, the roses are pretty darn indiscreet, and Rob’s not a stupid man. But as you say, how’d that message get into our e-mail outbox?”

            “What the hell are you talking about, Skip? Rob wouldn’t send me flowers.”

            “I called the florist shop. Guy who ordered them matches Rob’s description.” Skip jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ceiling again for a moment, desperately seeking some logical explanation that didn’t include his wife being unfaithful.

            “I don’t know. Maybe Rob’s playing some kind of game,” he finally said. “He’s fifty-one, after all. He could be having some kind of crisis. Maybe his feelings toward you have changed?”

            Kate just stared at him, speechless.

            After several seconds, he added, “Kate, I’m an investigator. I’ve been trained to keep my mind open to all possibilities.”

            She stood up. Incredulous had shifted to angry. “Damn it, Skip, it sounds like your mind’s so frickin’ open, your brain has fallen out. We are not having an affair.”

            Skip made a calm-down gesture with his hands. “Keep your voice down, Kate. The kids’ll hear you,” he said. “I’m not saying you’re having an affair. I’m suggesting the possibility that something is going on with Rob.”

            “Skip,
I
happen to be a
trained
therapist. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s picking up on people’s feelings. I would know if something was going on with Rob. He and I are as close as two people can be.”

            Her last words stung. “Closer than you and me?” he blurted out.

            Her hands were now on her hips. Not a good sign. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Are we talking about how close we are right now, or how close we normally are?”

            “Kate, please... I’m just trying to figure out what all this means.” He waved his arm in the direction of the roses.

            “I have no clue what all this means, other than someone’s trying to stir things up.”

            “That’s what I’m afraid Rob might be trying to do.” He started talking quickly to get the words out before she could interrupt. “Maybe his feelings for you have changed and he’s trying to break us up.”

            “You are truly out of your mind, Skip Canfield!” Her voice was rising again in anger. “For the last time, Rob did not send those flowers.”

            “Then who the hell did?” he snapped. “And keep your damned voice down.”

            Kate marched over to her dresser and swept the vase off onto the floor with her forearm. She started stomping the flowers into the soggy carpet. “I. Do. Not. Know. Who. Sent. These.” She turned and glared at him. “But it sure as hell wasn’t Rob. And there’s no way he had anything to do with those e-mails. He can just barely operate a cell phone.”

            She had a temper, but he’d never seen her quite this furious, at least not at him. He knew he should stop, declare that he trusted her. There had to be some logical explanation for all this. But the irrational fear twisting in his gut took over his brain.

            “Ben said you went to Rob’s house today.”

            Kate stared at him again, not responding to the implied question. Instead she walked to the end of her dresser, where she had dropped her purse. She pulled a colorful brochure out of it, turned toward him and slowly, methodically, tore it into tiny little pieces.

            Skip thought he might throw up. He had no idea what that brochure was, but he had a real bad feeling she was wishing it was their marriage license.

            “We went to his house to eat
lunch
, Skip,” she said, sadness now mixing with the anger in her voice as she looked down at the mess at her feet. “Since we can’t go out in public right now. We ate the chicken salad Liz, his
trusting
wife, had made for us.”

            Kate looked across the room at her husband, her voice now flat, defeated. “And we talked, about you. He defended you, called you his buddy. Told me I should get off your back, that you were trying your damnedest to make this case go away.”

            She sank down in the middle of the soggy, mutilated flowers and the confetti from the cruise brochure. She crossed her arms on her knees and buried her face, but she didn’t cry. Tears only helped when crying would make her feel better. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine what would make her feel better.

            She felt Skip’s presence beside her. He tried to gather her onto his lap, but she resisted. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him instead, burying his face in her hair.

            “Please forgive me, Kate.” His voice was choked. “I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry. I love you! Please...” He trailed off.

            She sat rigid for a few more seconds. Finally she relented and turned in his arms to rest her cheek against his chest. Her arms slid under his to wrap around his broad back. Silently, they held each other.

            After several minutes, Skip said, “I’ll make this stop. I’ll make it go away.”

            “How?” she asked, in that same defeated voice. “What can you do, Skip? We don’t even know who’s doing this.”

            He didn’t know how to answer her. What could he do? He could tell Cherise he quit, and then watch the agency he and Rose had built up be destroyed by the bad press the woman would make sure they received. And that wouldn’t necessarily stop whoever was trying to convince him that Kate and Rob were having an affair.

            Who could be doing that? Most likely one of the damned reporters, stirring the pot. So what could he do? Go to the offices of each of the tabloids that had run stories about them, find the reporters and pound them into the dirt. It would be very satisfying for a few minutes, but he’d end up in jail for assault, with no PI license when he got out.

            They heard a timid knock on the door, about three feet from the ground. Skip gently disentangled himself from Kate and stood to go to the door. Edie was on the other side, eyes wide, face solemn. “Maria said not to ’sturb you, Daddy, but I wanted to show you my picture.”