A Deadly Game. Virginia Smith
a slow morning at work, so he’d jumped at the chance to leave.
He placed a gloved hand on the chrome handle and jerked downward, but the lock held fast. “I remember doing it after I secured the car inside.”
Susanna looked every inch the cool executive secretary this morning. He had no trouble picturing her side-by-side in a conference room with Alice, his father’s long-suffering assistant, though Susanna’s dark blue suit somehow accented her feminine shape in a way Alice’s clothing never had. Yesterday at the auction Susanna’s hair had swung free, but this morning she’d smoothed it back from her head and captured it in some sort of twist that made her look both elegant and professional. Not a hint of the vulnerability he’d glimpsed last night was in evidence in her cool demeanor. In fact, Jack found this version of Susanna a little intimidating.
She folded her arms. “Maybe the teenagers picked the lock.”
Jack inspected the lever. No damage, and no telltale gouges in the metal. “It hasn’t been broken or anything. You wouldn’t think teenagers would be expert enough to pick a lock without damaging it.”
He looked up in time to see her eyes go a tiny bit rounder as she raised them to his. “You don’t think it was teenagers?”
Was that a note of fear in her voice? Well, Jack could hardly blame her if it was. She’d seen a gruesome sight last night, and then been scared half out of her wits by someone trying to get into her house. Even hysteria would be understandable.
Doubt about the police officer’s explanation plagued him. If the events she’d described were related to Ingram’s murder, she was right to be afraid. On the other hand, teenagers were notoriously curious, and the appearance of a car trailer in a driveway where one had never been was certain to attract their attention.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “And who knows? Maybe I didn’t turn the key all the way when I locked it. I think I did, but it’s one of those automatic things you do and then can’t remember.” Jack was ninety-five percent positive he’d locked the trailer, but that left five percent of uncertainty. “Regardless, I think you’re right to store the Corvette somewhere else. Where would you like me to take it?”
She cast a quick glance toward the house. “I found a place over on Winchester Road, but they didn’t answer their phone when I called. I thought I’d follow you over there and make the arrangements.”
“What if they don’t have any inside spaces available? I don’t think you want to park that car out in the open, exposed to the weather.”
Her fingers tightened on her arms. “I didn’t think of that. I just assumed they’d have room for it. I should have called someplace else, but I slept late, and then…” Even, white teeth appeared, clamped down on her lower lip, then disappeared as quickly. “Would you mind following me to the office? The weather’s supposed to be good today. We can unload it in the parking lot, so you can take your trailer. I’m sure it’ll be okay there for a few hours, and that will give me time to find a place to store it before dark. I’ll get someone to help me drive it over after I’ve made the arrangements.”
Jack hesitated. A thought had occurred to him, but he wasn’t sure how she would receive the offer. “Listen, I’m not in any hurry to use the trailer. I typically haul motorcycles and camping gear in it in nice weather, so I won’t need it for a few more months. We could leave the car in it until Ingram’s daughters decide what they want to do.”
“You mean store it at your house?”
“No, I live in a town house, and my garage is full.” He couldn’t meet her eyes as he made the suggestion. “But my father lives in a gated community, and the end of his driveway is behind the house, not visible from the road. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we park the trailer there for a few days.”
He risked a glance at her face, and encountered icy eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Your father.”
All right, yes. The suggestion might look suspicious, given R.H.’s inappropriate offer to buy the car last night. Jack opened his mouth to suggest that they call the storage place again, but stopped when she placed a hand on his arm.
“Thank you. That’s a nice gesture, and I appreciate it.” Her smile looked a little forced, but at least it appeared. “I’m sure the car will be safe there, and it’ll be a relief not to have to worry about it anymore.” Her shoulders heaved with a slight laugh. “I’ve got far too many other things to do today.”
The front door of the house opened and a girl with golden curls appeared. Ah, the sleeping child from last night, and from the picture on Susanna’s desk. She didn’t step out of the house, but shouted toward them in a high pitched voice, “Can I watch Beauty and the Beast?”
Susanna shook her head. “No, honey. I’ve got to go to work. But why don’t you put the DVD in your backpack? Maybe Miss Christy will let you watch it after lunch.” Her voice held a softer tone than he had yet heard.
“Okay.” The little girl disappeared, and the door slammed shut.
When Susanna turned back to him, her expression was once again all business. “So, I’ll call you as soon as Mr. Ingram’s daughters let me know something about the car. In the meantime, please thank your father for being so helpful.”
Was there a hint of disdain in her eyes as she uttered the last word? Jack couldn’t be sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised. The attitude was understandable, too. R.H. was well-known in this town, no doubt by reputation as much as by name.
“You have my number,” he answered. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
“Thank you.”
A touch of ice may have melted from her gaze, or it might merely have been a trick of the sunlight. In the next moment, she turned toward the house. Interesting woman. And not hard on the eyes, either. Jack watched until the front door closed behind her, then set to work hooking up the car trailer to his truck.
The headquarters of Townsend Steakhouses, Inc., were located in a glass-encased building on the southeast side of Lexington. After Jack dropped off the Corvette and trailer at his father’s house, he headed there. Not that his schedule held any pressing appointments requiring his presence today. Or any day, if the truth were told. His absence would probably pass without notice. Though the sign on his office door proclaimed him to be the Vice President of Supply, he held the title in name only. Every decision related to their suppliers was made exclusively by the company’s CEO, and everyone knew it.
He stepped off the elevator on the third floor, where the executive offices lined the windows overlooking an ice-covered pond with a fountain that, during the summer, sprayed blue-green water into the air. Instead of turning right toward his office he strode down the carpeted hallway to his left, toward the extralarge corner office from where his father dominated an important segment of the casual dining industry.
Alice Lester sat behind an immaculate desk, her fingers alive with near-silent activity as they danced over a keyboard. In the world of administrative assistants, Alice was considered among the best. Jack knew of multiple job offers she’d received from executives who had hoped to lure her away with high salaries and exclusive perks, but to everyone’s amazement she had refused them all. She bore the brunt of R.H.’s temper with an unruffled manner that was nothing short of amazing. Jack had no idea how much his father was paying Alice, but it must have been a lot. Why else would she put up with him for over fifteen years?
Jack couldn’t help comparing her to the other executive secretary he’d just left. Instead of Susanna’s blond twist, Alice hacked off her thick dark hair, which was veined liberally with steely gray, just below her ears. Her charcoal suit was no less stylish than Susanna’s, but it hung shapelessly from rounded shoulders that hunched slightly forward. Only a faint peachy blush on her lips betrayed any evidence of makeup.
And yet, Alice was one of the things that made the atmosphere on the executive floor of this building tolerable. Her unflappable composure