waited until she left before I said to Cole, “Do you think she bought it?”
“I think the jury’s out. One of the things that we talked about is that while people may believe you’re Cameron, they may suspect you’re faking the memory loss. Do you want me to hang around until James gets here?”
“No.” I drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I feel like I’ve been given a little reprieve, not having to explain everything to James and Sloan right away.” I was really a bit apprehensive about Sloan and happy that I wouldn’t have to face him until the next day. In spite of that I managed a smile for Cole. “I’m going to do a bit of exploring and try to get to know my sister a bit better. I’ll be fine. Really.”
I walked Cole out to the door and waited until he brought my duffel from the car. In spite of my words, my stomach did a little flip as he pulled away. But in addition to apprehension, I also felt a little thrill of excitement. The adventure was about to begin.
3
A HALF HOUR LATER, I was restlessly exploring Cameron’s bedroom. Elena had taken me up right after Cole had left, and before I could shut the door, Hannibal had dashed in, leaped onto the bed and enthroned himself on the pillows as if he were staking out a claim.
Before I’d let Elena return to the kitchen, I’d asked her one of the questions that Cole and Pepper and I had decided we needed to know—a question no one had bothered with because Cameron had never been reported missing. Where was each of the cast of characters on the day that Cameron had disappeared? Once I had the information, I was to phone Pepper and then Rossi Investigations could check out the alibis. Since Elena had been able to give such an accurate rundown of everyone’s whereabouts when Cole and I had arrived, I’d figured she’d be a good source. And she had been. James and Sloan had been at the ranch that day. Miss Beatrice had been giving a speech at a flower show in San Diego about an hour’s drive away. Mr. Austin had been with the Lintons in Las Vegas. There’d been no censure in her tone, but I sensed that Elena didn’t entirely approve of Austin’s whereabouts.
Thanks to Cole’s and Pepper’s coaching, I knew who the Lintons were. Marcie Linton was my personal assistant. I’d hired her on about six months ago. Shortly after they’d met, she and Austin had started dating, and they’d since become engaged. Marcie had introduced Austin to her brother, Hal, and the trio had been very close ever since.
Cole had also learned that Hal represented a group of developers who wanted badly to get their hands on a strip of McKenzie land that ran along the Pacific. So far, James had rejected all offers. Evidently, McKenzies didn’t part easily with their land.
Once Elena had left, I’d ignored Hannibal, and embarked on the first step in my plan—learning more about my sister. Her bedroom was large and airy with two large floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto small balconies. In decor the room was feminine—Cameron favored pastels—but it wasn’t frilly. The walls were ivory; the rug was an Oriental in muted shades of rose which were picked up in the bedspread and in the upholstered furniture.
In a small alcove, there was a couch—not a love seat, but a full-length couch, one I could imagine stretching out on and reading—or perhaps taking a nap. I tested it, and to my surprise, Hannibal jumped off the bed, ambled over and aimed a glare at me.
In spite of Elena’s assurances that cats had short memories and he just needed a little time to get to know his owner again, I couldn’t help thinking that Hannibal knew more than he was letting on. “Okay,” I said. “Maybe you can sense I’m not Cameron. But I’m trying to find out what happened to her. So we’re really on the same side here.”
He didn’t look convinced.
I didn’t have much experience with cats, but I’d handled horses who’d been initially skeptical of my abilities as a rider. The key was never to let them sense your weakness.
I turned to examine the bookcase next to the couch. There, I discovered a variety of books from Shakespeare’s Sonnets and well-thumbed copies of classics like Pride and Prejudice and To Kill a Mockingbird to a thriller about a diamond heist that had recently made the bestseller lists. I’d just read it myself, and I wondered in how many other things my sister’s taste and mine might coincide.
From the Queen Anne desk and a delicately hand-carved chair, I assumed she liked antiques. I’d never had the time to hunt for them, but I could appreciate their beauty. On the other side of the couch, I discovered a silly-looking red fox perched on top of an embroidered footstool.
When I picked it up to take a closer look, Hannibal made a growling sound deep in his throat.
I was intimidated enough to put the fox back on the stool, and I turned my attention to the small cabinet. Inside I found a bottle of brandy, a cache of chocolate and a bag of cat tidbits. Had I uncovered the secret to how Cameron and Hannibal had become “thick as thieves?” Selecting one of them, I turned back to the cat.
“Is this what you’re hounding me for?”
He moved closer and I gave him the treat. He hadn’t been on my list of the players at the hacienda, but if Cameron had kept treats for him right beside her chocolate…
“Look. I’m going to be here for a while, so you’d better get used to me. And I’m not going to steal anything from your mistress. She’s my sister.”
Hannibal blinked just as if he’d understood what I’d just said.
“We’re not enemies. Really. I’m beginning to like her. She has good taste—even in chocolate.”
Her cache was made in Switzerland.
Hannibal had no comment. I opened the cabinet, and this time I took out a treat for both of us. As he ate his, I took a bite of chocolate and turned my attention back to the room. Truth told, I not only liked Cameron’s taste, I envied it. Since moving to Los Angeles, I’d pretty much buried myself in work, and I hadn’t yet taken the time to make my apartment my own.
I investigated Cameron’s closet next while Hannibal stood in the doorway to keep watch. What I found was that any possible similarities between my sister and me came to an end when it came to clothes. First off, her closet wasn’t a closet. It was a whole room that opened off the larger bed-sitting-room area. My bedroom in my apartment wasn’t any larger. One wall housed drawers, cupboards, shoe racks and shelves. Along the other hung Cameron’s clothes, neatly arranged and sorted into pants, shirts, jackets, suits and dresses.
If you are what you wear, Cameron McKenzie was a fashion queen. I like clothes, too, but I bought mine off the racks, and Cameron’s all came from designer showrooms. No bargains from Wal-Mart here. So far Jimmy Choo shoes were something that I’d only seen on TV shows. My twin owned four pairs. Way to go, Cameron.
Insatiably curious, I’d searched through drawers and found she had a taste for gold, expensive lingerie and short nightgowns. I’d even tested her scent—something exotic and French that probably cost more than what I spent on a month’s rent.
But it was the bathroom that gave me the biggest surprise about my sister. The best description I could come up with was that it was like a little slice of paradise. There was a skylight situated so that sun, rain or starlight would be visible from the tub. There were gleaming marble tiles, a shower with frosted glass doors, brass faucets, and enough plants hanging and bursting out of pots to make one think of Eden.
I was aware of all that as I stood in the doorway,
