hadn’t Cassie checked in with Emma Kruger? The obvious answer was Cassie’s cousin Lisa got wind a detective was asking questions about her. Lisa could have alerted Cassie directly before leaving for South America. If that happened, Cassie would already be gone and he’d be too late.
He awoke at eleven the next morning and bolted out of bed like a horse with a burr under its saddle, appalled he’d overslept on this of all mornings. He took a shower and put on clean clothes while drinking a cup of the coffee he made in his own room. The motel coffee made the stuff he brewed in a pan over a campfire taste like gourmet.
He paused as he picked up the small black box that he’d been carrying in his pocket. Popping open the lid, he studied the contents for a moment, then snapped the lid shut. Leaving it on the dresser, he went back for it at the last moment and slipped it in with his loose change. It wasn’t a bribe, it was a promise. All he had to do was find Cassie.
Back in the truck, he drove to the house again.
What a difference a few hours made.
The driveway and street on both sides were now jammed with cars. A few people could be seen standing out on the large porch—they appeared to be smokers relegated to the chill of October to feed their habit.
Cody found a parking spot a few blocks away and walked back to the house. He looked the place over as he threaded his way between the parked cars in the driveway. It had to cost a fortune to keep a mansion like this one operating, but there were signs maintenance had slipped. The house needed painting, for instance. Plants had overgrown the landscaper’s original vision and weeds grew in the sidewalk cracks.
There were two smokers on the front porch and they both nodded at him. As he climbed the short flight of stairs, the front door opened and a woman and man came out. The man held the door open for Cody so Cody decided to go with the flow.
The inside of the house gave the same impression as the outside: elegance and expense slightly worn around the edges. The foyer was crowded with people dressed in dark colors, all holding something to eat or drink, all ignoring him after a cursory glance. By the preponderance of dark clothes and hushed conversations, Cody thought it pretty likely somebody had died.
The motel coffee burned his gut like cheap whiskey. Please don’t let it be Cassie. Anything but that. He chose a man standing alone to sidle up to. “Excuse me. Do you know—”
“Emerson and Victoria are in the parlor,” the man said, moving off to talk to a woman who had motioned to him. Cody had no idea who Emerson and Victoria might be, but guessing they were connected with this house in some way, he moved in the indicated direction, entering another equally crowded room.
Through the sea of bodies, he spotted an athletic-looking middle-aged woman seated on a brocaded sofa, her graying hair falling softly over her forehead. She was surrounded by other women, one of whom patted her hand. A man of about the same vintage stood off by a window, alone.
There was something about the two that linked them in Cody’s mind, a certain air of aloofness mixed with privilege. They were extremely well-dressed in tailored dark suits, their grooming beyond reproach. Both looked like they spent a lot of time on a tennis court or golf course.
A uniformed woman wearing an apron and carrying a tray, asked if he would like a canapé and started naming the offerings in a broad Cockney accent.
“No thanks,” he interrupted, adding quickly, “Do you know the woman who owns this house? Her name is Vera Priestly.”
“Know her? Oh, you mean, did I know her,” she said. “I worked for her for five years, now, didn’t I? It’s shocking what happened to her.”
“What exactly happened?” he asked.
She cocked her head to one side as her voice fell to an ominous hush. “You don’t know? Oh, now, mister, it’s terrible. Mrs. Priestly weren’t all fur coats and no knickers, if you take my meaning. She was a lady through and through. You ask me it was that new girl who took over for me. Run me out of a posh job, she did, and her being all—”
“Bridget? I think some of our other guests may need attention,” the man Cody had noticed by the window said. He’d approached so quietly he caught both the maid and Cody off guard. The maid immediately dipped her head and scurried off. The man looked down his patrician nose at Cody, which wasn’t easy as Cody was easily five or six inches taller. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you,” he said. “I’m Emerson Banner. Exactly how did you know my mother-in-law?”
Up close, Banner’s face was crisscrossed with fine lines, his eyes were a pale, icy blue and his chin was slightly receded. He was the kind of man that raised Cody’s hackles.
“I didn’t know her,” Cody said, taking off his hat. He’d completely forgotten he had it on. “I just heard she passed away. I know this is a terrible time to bother you, but I’ve traveled a distance. I’m looking for my wife. Her name is Cassie—Cassandra, sometimes. I was told she was employed here to help care for an elderly lady named Vera Priestly. If Mrs. Priestly died recently then it figures Cassie will be out of work.” He’d been digging in his wallet as he spoke and offered a photograph of Cassie taken the year before.
Emerson Banner glanced at it, did a double take, then glared at Cody. The old saying If looks could kill… flashed through Cody’s mind.
“I think you’d better leave,” Banner said, his voice as cold as Rocky Mountain snow. He tossed a surreptitious glance at the woman on the couch. Her gaze met his and she furrowed her brow.
“I’ll be happy to go,” Cody said. “Lord knows I’m needed in Wyoming a lot more than I’m needed here. Just tell me where Cassie is.”
Banner’s voice took on a vicious undertone. “Have you no decency?” he hissed. “This is Vera’s wake, of all things, and you have the audacity to barge in here.” He grabbed Cody’s elbow and maneuvered him through the crowd.
A younger guy with a pleasant smile intercepted them. “Dad? Is there a problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, Robert. Do me a favor and find your sister. Have her go sit with your mother, okay?” The next thing Cody knew, he was ushered out the front door.
While he couldn’t begin to fathom what had brought on this reaction, he hadn’t put up a fuss because people inside were grieving. But the front porch was empty now and he’d had about enough. He tore his arm away from Banner’s grip and stared down at the older man.
“Where in the hell is my wife, and don’t bother saying you don’t know her because it’s obvious you do. What’s going on?”
Banner straightened his shoulders. “The woman you claim is your wife presented herself to us as Laura Green. I was very much against hiring her as Vera’s caregiver. The girl was not bonded nor did she have experience or references, but Vera could dig in her heels when she wanted and she was determined to help this girl out. She’d heard about her from a friend of a friend—your typical hard-luck story. Totally inappropriate.
“It turns out my suspicions of her were right on the money. We caught Laura or Cassie or whoever she is trying to run off with my mother-in-law’s jewelry yesterday. And today we find there are several additional pieces missing. Who knows how much is gone? The police—”
“Where is Cassie?” Cody interrupted.
“She took
