CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (8 page)

            “Once I recovered from the heart attack when you all jumped out at me.” Rob chuckled. “Anyhow, the girls and I are taking her out to dinner on her actual birthday. Someplace nice. She’ll feel sufficiently feted. And then the next weekend we’re just coming over to your house for a cookout, and, lo and behold, your backyard just happens to be full of thirty or forty of our closest friends.”

            “Heaven help us if it rains. We’ll never get all those people in my house. Did you send out the invites yet?”

            “Fran insisted on taking charge of them. I told her it wasn’t appropriate for me to expect my admin assistant to do that. She pointed out that she’d offered, I didn’t ask, and she’s doing it as a friend, not an employee.”

            “That woman’s been hanging around you too long. She’s starting to argue like a lawyer,” Kate said.

            “So can you and Maria take care of the food? As in you buy it and she cooks it, I mean,” Rob teased. Kate was a notoriously bad cook. “Keep track of what you spend and I’ll reimburse you.”

            “No way. I’ll pay for the food as my contribution. You just concentrate on getting Liz there without her becoming suspicious,” Kate said.

            “Ha! Easier said than done. I swear she’s clairvoyant.”

            “No, she’s just very bright and she knows you very, very well.”

            “The girls want to come by that afternoon and decorate. Is that okay?”

            “That’s wonderful. I think we’ve got it all covered,” Kate said, then gleefully rubbed her hands together. “If we pull off surprising her, it’ll be the coup of the century.”

            Rob glanced at his watch. “Gotta go. Partners’ meeting this afternoon.” He dug a ten and a five out of his wallet to cover his half of their lunch. Kate had long ago insisted they split the tab, rather than wrangling over the check each time.

            He stood up. “Let me know if there are any glitches in the plans.” With a sly smile on his face, he leaned over and kissed Kate on the forehead. “And I’m paying for half the food for the party,” he added, then made a quick exit before she could argue.

* * *

            Having caught the noon Acela express back, Skip beat Kate home by an hour. When she arrived, the kids and their nanny were already on the way to the park. Maria had a twinkle in her eye and a twenty in her purse to buy dinner at McDonald’s afterwards.

            Skip was stuffing the roses he’d bought from a street vendor outside Baltimore’s Penn Station into a vase when he heard the front door open. The vase was hastily placed next to the champagne bottle, chilling in an ice bucket, and the small Tiffany’s box on the kitchen table.

            Kate came around the corner and stopped in her tracks. Taking it all in, she put hands on hips and said, in a mock stern tone, “Okay, Skip Canfield, what have you done?”

            “Nothing,” he exclaimed indignantly, then grinned at her from across the room. “Just a few tokens of my love for my beautiful wife,
and
appreciation for the best psychological consultant in town.”

            She put her briefcase on a kitchen chair, shrugged out of her suit jacket and stepped into his embrace. After a long tender kiss, she leaned back in the circle of his arms. “Best psychological consultant, huh? I tried to convince you that Lansing wasn’t your man.”

            “I know, but the stuff you told me about Cherise, it really helped me manage her better last night. And I’m not sure Lansing is our man, or at least not our only man. I think you’re right about him not really fitting with the tone of the notes. He’s just not the lovesick type.”

            “I’m wondering if you and Dolph might have inadvertently planted the seed in his mind last week for a way to seek revenge on his ex.”

            “Yeah, I figured that out. He also bought a couple other baubles at Tiffany’s recently, so I think he does have a new lady friend, or maybe several. But either way,” Skip continued, as he let go of her to pull the champagne out of the ice bucket, “I felt like celebrating. This is a break-through in the case, and I’ve got a real strong feeling that Lansing and/or somebody else is going to make a move this Friday, and then we’ll have him cold.” He popped the cork and quickly grabbed one of the flutes off the table to catch the bubbles foaming out of the bottle.

            “Champagne, Skip? It’s only four-thirty in the afternoon. We still have to deal with the kids later.”

            “Not until bedtime. Maria’s taking them to McD’s for dinner, then she’s doing their baths. I bribed her with a raise.”

            “Boy you are feeling flush tonight, aren’t you?”

            “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, darlin’.” He handed her a glass of champagne, then raised his own glass in a toast. “To me, the luckiest damn Texan alive!”

            Taking in the Stetson, knocked askew by their passionate kissing, and the Western-style suit and bolo tie that were not her husband’s usual attire, Kate started to giggle as she took a sip of champagne. Bubbles went up her nose. Coughing and snorting, she put her glass down.

            Skip slapped her gently on the back, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. Once she had recovered, she smiled up at him. “I take it you used the Texan persona to charm the ladies at Tiffany’s?”

            “Yup, and Skippy has not lost his touch. Course she did her share of charming as well. Talked me into a little something.” He put his glass down on the table and gently tugged on the silver chain around her neck. The diamond nestled in the hollow of her throat winked up at him. “Something to go with this,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he imagined kissing that spot where the diamond glittered, and then trailing kisses downward.

            He shook his head, completely dislodging the ten gallon hat. Snagging it as it started to fall, he dropped it on a chair. Then his hand kept moving, scooping up the Tiffany’s box to hand to her.

            When Kate opened the box, her eyes grew wide. “Oh, Skip!” she gasped. “They must have cost a fortune.”

            “Only a small one, and nothin’s too good for my gal.” He took the open box from her and held it up next to her necklace. “Yup, perfect match.” Handing the box back, he wrapped both arms around her.

            She leaned back to look up at him again. “They’re beautiful, Skip, and I will treasure them as I do the necklace.” She had a funny look on her face.

            “Do I detect a ‘but’ on the end of that sentence?” When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “I told the woman not too flashy, more understated but elegant. You don’t like them, do you?”

            “No, no, I love them. It’s just, I don’t know...” She looked up at him, her expression serious. “Where is all this coming from? This isn’t really like you. Roses and champagne and expensive gifts for no reason.”

            Skip tried to cover his disappointment at her reaction. He pulled out another chair and sat her in it, then picked his hat up and put it on the table, sitting down in front of her. “I guess being in Tiffany’s kind of went to my head a little bit, but I really felt like celebrating what we have. I don’t know how to explain it.” He paused, searching for words. “I see all the things Cherise has, everything money can buy, and she’s got nothing. No lover, no family. The only thing she knows how to love is herself and a cat.” He took both of Kate’s hands in his.

            “And then I’m up there in New York, checking out this Lansing dude, and he’s buying expensive presents for some woman, maybe more than one woman. But I know damn well he’s only getting sex out of the deal. And he’s so shallow he probably thinks that’s all there is.”

            He lifted one of her hands toward his lips and bent his head down to kiss her palm. She sucked in her breath. His lips still hovering over her hand, warm breath tickling her skin, he said, “I couldn’t wait to get home and shower you with whatever I could think of that would let you know how much I love you, you and the kids and the life we have together.” He turned her hand slightly so he could kiss the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, and heard her gasp again.

            He looked at her through the veil of soft brown hair that had flopped down onto his forehead. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling at him as she pulled a hand loose to brush back his hair. He groaned at the gentle touch and started to pull her toward him.

            “Better not, Skip, or we’ll get naked right here in the kitchen,” she whispered. “We should move this to the bedroom in case the kids and Maria get home before we come up for air.”

            “Good idea.” He grinned down at her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

            On Friday morning, Dolph, Ben and Rose were sitting in Skip’s office refining the plan for that night. “I’ve arranged for a limo with bullet-proof glass,” Skip said. “Not that I think this guy is going to start shooting, but bullet-proof means it’s also fist-proof and brick-proof. Ben, I’d like you behind the wheel.”

            “No problem,” Ben replied.

            “We’ve got the fingerprint from the tape on the package and the Tiffany records confirming that Lansing sent the bracelet,” Rose said. “But there weren’t any clear prints on the notes. We’re not at all sure Lansing sent them, so we keep our eyes open for anybody who is acting weird, trying extra hard to get past us.”

            Skip nodded. “The hired muscle will create a corridor for us. Ben and I will be on either side of Cherise. Dolph, you bring up the rear. If anybody tries something, then takes off, Mac, Rose and/or I go after him. You two stick with Cherise, no matter what.”

            Dolph and Ben both nodded.

            “While she’s on stage, you two are right there in the wings on either side, ready to move if needed. I’m going to go around to the back of the crowd, get the big picture.” Skip reached into a box behind his desk and started handing out small two-way radios. “Compliments of Mac Reilly. We need to get some of these, Rose.”

            “I think Mac’ll donate them if we make him full-time,” she replied.

            “That’s a deal,” Skip said, then turned to Ben. “You don’t go, no matter how loud Cherise is screaming at you. Not until I say. If I’m not in the car, I’ll bang three times on the roof. That’s the signal to go without me ’cause I’m about to go catch me a bad guy.”

            Rose was shaking her head. “Not without back-up you don’t, Skip.”

            He grinned at her. “Compact Rosie here is only afraid of one thing on this planet–my wife’s wrath.”

            “You call me Rosie again, Skippy, and
you’ll
have reason to be afraid,” Rose fired back, but she flashed him a quick grin.

            “You or Mac or both will be with me, Rose,” Skip said, his tone now serious. “We’ll do our jobs but nobody’s risking their hides here. Got it?”

            Everybody nodded.

            Getting into Merriweather Post Pavilion was not a big deal. They arrived at six-thirty, for a concert that started at eight, and Cherise wouldn’t go on until almost nine. Only a few fans and some of the press were already there.

            The latter did not seem happy that they couldn’t get a good shot of Cherise. A couple photographers yelled obscenities in Skip’s direction when his big body always seemed to be between her and the cameras. “You can see her on stage, gentlemen,” he called back good-naturedly, never breaking stride, his hand firmly attached to Cherise’s elbow.

            The first glitch was no bathroom in the tiny dressing room. Only Cherise, Skip, Sarah and Rose could squeeze into the room, that contained a small dressing table and a free-standing empty clothing rack. The others stood out in the hall. After hanging up Cherise’s costume, Sarah went looking for the manager, one of the bodyguards in tow.

            “You don’t go to the ladies’ room without Rose,” Skip said to Cherise. He turned to his partner. “You slip out into the crowd about ten minutes before she goes on. I’m going to have one of the guys go sit in your seat, to ward off any squatters, until you get there.”

            He looked at the doorknob. “Geez,” he said, “the door doesn’t even lock.”

            Stepping out into the hall, Skip saw Sarah coming toward him. A nervous-looking redhead in her early forties was with her. The woman started to wring her hands, then caught herself.

            Stopping next to Skip in the open doorway, she addressed Cherise. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Martin. We had a pipe burst, in the main dressing room area, just an hour ago. Made a total mess of things. This is the room where the extras usually wait. It’s the best we could do on short notice.”

            Cherise did not look happy but before she could object, Skip said, “Sarah, can you stay in the dressing room during the performance, make sure nobody messes with it?” Sarah nodded.

            “Mac, you got any radios on you?” Skip called out. Mac appeared behind the PA’s shoulder, holding up a small black box. Skip nodded at Sarah and Mac handed her the radio. “You give a shout if anybody comes around. Don’t hesitate now. Better a false alarm than no alarm,” Skip told her. He gestured to one of the guards. “You stick to her like glue.”

            Skip turned back to Mac. “I’ll get someone to save your seat as well. Go check on that pipe, make sure it wasn’t sabotaged. I’m going to go check out the crowd. Rose and the guys will be out here in the hall, Cherise. And I’ll be back before it’s time for you to go on.”

            Skip was striding down the narrow corridor behind the stage before Cherise could react. She stared after him and sighed.

            Rose’s eyes narrowed. “He’s married, Cherise.
Happily
married,” she said and walked out the door.

            Sarah entered the cramped room to help her boss with her makeup and costume, and the manager led Mac off to show him the broken pipe.

            Twenty minutes later, Mac joined Skip where he was standing at the back of the open-air amphitheater, watching the people who were streaming into the seats below him. Dusk was gathering around them. Mac eyed the surrounding woods warily.