Lost and Found (22 page)

“Do you know this Brooke Langworth?”

“I’ve met her on one or two occasions, but that’s about it. Brooke didn’t grow up here in Phantom Point. She lived in the city until she married Langworth.”

“How did she and Randall meet?” Mack asked.

“She worked for Austrey-Post for a while. They started dating at that time.” Cady hesitated. “Sylvia told me that Brooke’s husband, George, is in the last stages of terminal cancer.”

“Interesting.”

She was startled by the thoughtful tone of his voice. “Why? Aside from the soap-opera elements of the story, I fail to see anything really interesting about it.”

“Probably because you were in the middle of it.” He straightened, draped an arm around her shoulders and urged her gently along the path. “Congratulations on getting yourself out of that mess, by the way.”

“It wasn’t like I had much choice. I couldn’t stay married to Randall. Not after I realized that he was still passionately in love with Brooke. Randall and I are friends, but friendship has its limits.”

“I’m with you on that. The guy should have leveled with you going into the marriage.”

She sighed. “Randall’s intentions were good. He did his best to try to put Brooke behind him and get on with his life. The problem was that he didn’t give himself enough time to heal from the pain of the breakup of their relationship.”

“You and Sylvia do this a lot?” Mack asked.

“Do what?”

“Make excuses for good old Randall?”

She glared at him. “I’m not making excuses. I’m explaining.”

“Sounds to me like you’re making excuses.”

“Randall is a friend.”

“Let him make his own excuses,” Mack said.

M
ack contemplated the artistically arranged pile of elegant old snuffboxes.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” asked a voice. “I believe we can let you have the lot for somewhere in the neighborhood of six thousand.”

“An interesting neighborhood.” Mack picked up the discreetly folded card that sat next to the boxes. There was a number written in a fine hand inside. “Price tag says ten thousand.”

“According to what I hear, you’ll soon be entitled to the family discount.”

“Forget it. I don’t do a lot of snuff.”

The stranger chuckled and put out a hand. “Mack Easton, right? I’m Parker Turner. Leandra pointed you out. Thought I’d introduce myself. I believe we have something in common.”

“That would be—?”

“Honorable intentions toward certain female members of the Briggs clan. I’m hoping that Leandra and I will also be announcing an engagement soon.”

Mack shook hands. Parker’s grasp was firm and strong.
A small gold signet ring gleamed on one of his fingers. He wore a tux, as did the other men on Chatelaine’s staff tonight. The female employees were dressed in discreetly cut black evening gowns. Cady, Sylvia and Leandra also wore black. They circulated among the clients and guests who had been invited to the reception.

No expense had been spared tonight as far as Mack could see. The champagne and hors d’oeuvres alone must have cost as much as one or two of the better pieces of old furniture. The event had the sophisticated ambience of a museum or symphony fund-raiser, but he knew that most of the cash raised here tonight would go directly into the coffers of Chatelaine’s. The trick was to make the clients feel that they had been invited to an elite event in the world of the arts, not to a rummage sale.

“I’ve heard your name mentioned,” Mack said. “You’re on the staff here at Chatelaine’s, aren’t you?”

Parker nodded easily. “Been with the firm for over twenty years. Started in shipping and receiving.”

Mack surveyed Parker’s excellently tailored tux. “Looks like you’ve moved out of shipping and receiving.”

Parker laughed and glanced self-deprecatingly down at the expensive attire he wore. “Between you and me, everything you see standing here in front of you, I owe to Vesta Briggs.”

“How’s that?”

“The day I went to work for her, I was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and a cheap leather jacket. I wore a headband, if you can believe it. At the time I thought I was cool. Miss Briggs took me in hand and redefined the word for me. The lady changed my life and I will be forever grateful to her memory.” Parker raised his champagne flute in a small, respectful gesture.

“Did Vesta take such a personal interest in all of her employees?”

“No.” Parker looked amused. “Only in the ones she thought would be useful to Chatelaine’s.”

“I get your point.”

“Don’t mistake me, I admired Miss Briggs enormously. She was utterly devoted to the company. Everything she did was for the good of Chatelaine’s. Never met a more single-minded human being in my life. She was really quite amazing and, as I said, she had a profound effect on my life. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d probably be driving a truck today instead of drinking champagne and wearing a tux.”

“When do you and Leandra plan to make the big announcement?”

“As soon as I can convince her to take another chance on marriage. She got hurt in a very nasty divorce about eighteen months ago. Takes a while to recover from something like that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Parker looked across the crowded showroom to where Leandra stood chatting with two men who were examining an antique microscope. His expression tightened. “It was hard watching her marry that sonofabitch, Spooner. Everyone, especially Vesta, knew that it would end in disaster.”

On the other side of the room, Leandra gestured toward the old microscope. Mack watched one of the pair shake his head. He got the impression that the instrument did not fit into whatever budget the two had established for investing in art and antiques.

“Were you in love with her when she married Dillon Spooner?” Mack asked.

Parker grimaced. “I think it was seeing her marry him that made me realize the depth of my own feelings. I’d known Leandra for years, of course, and liked her. But she’s several years younger, as you can see. We didn’t
move in the same circles. I thought of her as just one of the kids in the Briggs family.”

“What happened?”

“I was invited to the wedding along with the rest of the staff here at Chatelaine’s. Danced with Leandra at the reception and suddenly realized that she was no longer a kid. But by then it was too late, of course. Besides, she was wild about Spooner. She wouldn’t have looked twice at me. All I could do was stand by, together with her family, and wait for the marriage to fall apart.”

“What made everyone so sure this Spooner guy was a loser?”

“It was obvious that he thought he’d found a meal ticket by marrying into the family that controlled Chatelaine’s.” Parker’s mouth quirked slightly. “Vesta Briggs soon set him straight on that point. The marriage fell apart when it became clear that she wasn’t going to finance his painting. She expected him to get a day job and keep it. That came as a serious shock to Spooner.”

On the far side of the room, Leandra laughed at something one of the two men said. She caught sight of Mack and Parker and raised her glass to acknowledge them.

“After the divorce you moved in to pick up the pieces, is that it?” Mack asked.

“That’s how it started. I was divorced myself several years ago, so I knew the ropes. What about you? How did you meet Cady?”

“Business connection.”

“Do you collect art or antiques?”

“Neither.” That was the simple truth. “But a friend of mine was looking for a piece for his collection and he needed some help. I asked around on his behalf and Cady’s name came up.” Close enough. “One thing led to another.”

“I see.” Parker nodded. “Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

“Same to you.”

Parker smiled wryly. “Don’t know about you, but personally I find it a little scary to be contemplating starting a family at my age. Always thought of fatherhood as one of those things you stumbled into when you were young and impulsive.”

“Family?” For some reason the word seemed to get stuck in Mack’s brain. “As in kids?”

“Leandra tells me she wants two. How many is Cady talking?”

“We, uh, haven’t discussed the subject.”

Something in his voice must have given him away. A knowing look gleamed in Parker’s eyes.

“Glad I’m not the only one who’s nervous about becoming a midlife father,” he said dryly. “But if it’s any consolation, Leandra assures me that there are a lot of self-help books published for expectant parents these days.”

“
I
’d call that a major success for Sylvia,” Cady said an hour later on the way back to the car. “She really knows how to create that special air of excitement that it takes to bring in the clients.”

“I could see that,” Mack said.

He took in the street scene outside the gallery, automatically registering the lightly crowded sidewalks and the good street lighting. Chatelaine’s shared the upscale commercial neighborhood with a couple of trendy restaurants, an art gallery and a small hotel.

The sidewalks were still damp from the recent rain. The crisp, cold breeze carried a damp chill off the bay.

Beside him, Cady walked with her hands thrust deep into the pockets of a black raincoat.

“Were you bored?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Spent some time talking to Parker Turner.”

“He’s a nice guy. Not like Dillon, that’s for sure. Everyone says he’s very serious about Leandra.”

“He’s serious, all right. Talked about the joys of midlife fatherhood.”

He winced at his own words. What the hell was he doing here? Did he really want to bring up the subject of babies?

“Midlife fatherhood, hmm?” Cady pursed her lips. “That’s definitely serious.

“Yeah.”

In silence they walked the remaining few steps to where the car was parked at the curb. Mack opened the passenger door. Cady slid into the seat. She looked up at him just as he was about to close the door.

“Must be a relief to be finished with fatherhood,” she said very casually.

“Relief?”

“You know what I mean. You’re finished with your parenting responsibilities. The trials and tribulations are behind you. Now that Gabriella is off to college, you’ve got your freedom back. You can set your own hours. Travel. Do what you want. That must be very gratifying for you.”

He considered that. “I don’t think you ever really finish with the parenting thing.”

He shut the door quickly and turned to walk around the front of the car.

The skinny man in the battered leather jacket came out of the shadows of a darkened doorway, moving with the quick, jerky speed of an insect. Light glinted on the barrel of the small, cheap gun in his hand.

“Don’t move. Not one fucking inch.”

The voice was a hoarse, rasping whisper. Mack figured
that in addition to adrenaline, there were probably some other drugs in the night crawler’s bloodstream.

“Gimme the wallet.” The insect twitched the gun. “Do it now.”

“Sure. No problem.” Mack reached inside his jacket. “Any chance we can do a deal here?”

Behind him, the car door opened. Cady had evidently just realized that something was happening.

“Don’t get out,” he said to her, making it an order.

“Do what he says,” the insect rasped. “Get back inside.”

Cady closed the car door very quietly.

“About this deal,” Mack said, wanting to distract him from Cady. “How about I give you all the cash in the wallet. You let me keep the cards and license. It’s a nuisance having to replace them.”

“No, man. No deal. No way. I need the cards. Gimme the damned wallet.”

“Take it easy.” Mack slid the wallet out of his jacket and held it up. “Here it is.”

“Drop it on the ground.” The insect flicked anxious glances to either side, checking the sidewalk. “Hurry.”

Mack tossed the wallet to the ground. The insect scuttled toward it. He bent down, trying to keep an eye on his target and at the same time pick up the object of the exercise. His movements were awkward. Apparently he had not thought this part out ahead of the mugging.

Two men came around the corner and stopped short several yards away.

“Hey, what’s going on there?” one of them yelled in a loud, attention-grabbing voice.

“I’m on the line with 911,” the other one shouted, phone to his ear.

“Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit.” The insect panicked. He started to turn to face the new threat. He was off-balance and rattled.

Mack launched himself forward, colliding heavily with the scrawny creature. The force of the impact carried them both to the sidewalk with a jolt that he knew he would feel in the morning. Metal clanged loudly as the gun landed on the pavement.

Footsteps thudded in the shadows. The two men were racing to the rescue. He heard the car door open again. Cady was out of the vehicle.

“Mack, I’ve got his gun. Get away from him, he’s not worth it.”

“Cops are on the way,” one of the two men shouted.

Mack could tell from the way the insect clawed and scrabbled to get free that the creature had lost all interest in the wallet. Its primitive survival instincts had kicked in. Fleeing into the night was its only goal.

Mack found some space and some leverage and managed to deliver a short, chopping blow. The insect jerked spasmodically and then slumped.

The two men pounded to a halt.

“It’s okay,” one of them said. “We’ve got him. You all right?”

“Yeah.” Mack rolled slowly to his feet, gingerly feeling the place on his rib cage that had absorbed most of the jolt from the encounter with the sidewalk. “Thanks to you two.”

Cady was suddenly all over him. “Are you hurt? I don’t see any blood. Did that creep do any damage?”

“I’m all right,” he said, breathing carefully, testing the ribs. No deep twinges. That was probably a good sign.

A siren sounded in the distance.

The insect moaned. “The bastard set me up.”

Mack crouched down beside him. “Who set you up?”

“My dealer. I owe him some money. Fucking bastard said he’d call it even if I got your cards.”

“Why did he want my cards?”

“How the hell should I know? Probably wanted to sell them.” The insect moaned again. “He set me up, I tell you. This is all his fault.”