Here Comes Trouble (18 page)

The only common thread was the person who reported the crimes.

Henry.

In Henry’s defense, the head chef was at the restaurant all the time and did all the checking and double-checking of the supplies. Naturally when the numbers didn’t add up, Henry would be the one to discover it first. For some reason that fact wasn’t enough for Chase to disregard him. So far, the tapes had revealed no suspicious behavior on Henry’s part, leaving Chase with nothing.

“Want me to bring him in?” Anita asked.

Chase stared at the television screen a moment longer before shaking his head. “No. I’ll keep a close eye on him, though. In the meantime, don’t tell any of the employees what’s going on. I’d rather whoever’s doing this gets sloppy and eventually shows themselves.”

Henry’s name floated around his head but didn’t leave his lips. Those suspicions were his alone and Chase didn’t want to alert anyone that he thought McDermott’s head chef was stealing from them.

Nine

“I still think you should sign up for the art festival.”

“You do, huh?” Lacy tucked her cell phone between her shoulder and ear as she shoved her purse in her work locker.

Brody continued with his sales pitch. “I absolutely do. I know a guy who’s on the organization committee and he says there are still a few booths available. I could have him hold one for you.”

Her locker shut with a clang. “I don’t know, Brody. The art festival is the last thing on my mind right now. I don’t even think I have anything worth showing.”

“I don’t believe that. You’ve always underestimated your talent.”

In
his
opinion. Lacy had seen some of the artwork that had been in the festival before. They were works of art from local artists who had already established themselves in statewide galleries. Even in her wildest pipe dream, she was nowhere near that good. During a moment of pure wishful thinking she had imagined selling a few pieces and catching the eye of a gallery owner who’d take a liking to her, but who was she kidding? Her black and white pencil sketches of things like trees and local mountain ranges wouldn’t so much as spark a glimmer of interest.

Bless Brody’s heart. He was a true friend who’d say her drawings would make Monet jealous, even though they both knew he was full of baloney.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he continued as she turned to the mirror in the break room to make sure her white shirt looked crisp and fresh. “Steve, the guy I know on the committee, says he’d be willing to take a look at some of your pieces and let you know whether or not they’re good enough to show.”

“And what if he says they’re not?” One of her biggest fears had always been having her drawings rejected.

“Trust me, he won’t. I wouldn’t have even brought it up to him if I didn’t have complete faith in you.” He was silent a moment, then said quietly, “You need to believe in yourself more, Lace. You have a talent.”

That’s what Ray used to always say. But he was her grandfather and grandfathers were supposed to say things like that.

She remained silent then stepped into the bathroom when another employee, Becky Lynn, entered the break room.

“I need to think about it.”
And decide what I have that’s worth showing
.

Brody’s resigned sigh vibrated through her cell phone. “I have until the end of next week to let him know. If he doesn’t hear back from me he’s going to give the booth to somebody else. This could be your chance. Don’t let another year go by.”

A grateful smile curled along her mouth. “Thanks Brody. You’re the best. Oh hey,” she said before he could hang up. “Bring Tyler by sometime, okay? I miss my buddy.”

Brody waited a beat before answering. “He’s still out of town with Kelly. I’ll bring him by as soon as they get back.”

She shifted her phone to her other ear. “How’re you doing with all that, by the way?”

More silence. “I’m dealing. I’ll be okay, Lace.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m a big boy. Besides, as long as Tyler’s happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

Lacy inhaled a breath and grinned. “You’re a good dad. Tyler’s lucky.”

“Lacy…”

“I have to go, my shift is getting ready to start,” she interrupted, not wanted to hear the sentimental, “your situation was unfortunate” crap she’d heard a thousand times before. “I’ll let you know about the fair.”

After disconnecting the call, Lacy went back into the break room and found Becky Lynn rooting around in her locker. The younger girl slammed her locker shut then turned her shy smile to Lacy.

“Thanks again for filling in for me the other night.”

Lacy opened her locker and tucked her cell phone back in her purse. “No problem. I’m always happy to pick up an extra shift when I can.” The other girl’s yellowish-blond hair, natural tan and sky blue eyes always reminded Lacy of a Swedish model’s. Even in the dead of winter, Becky Lynn possessed coloring most women went to tanning booths to achieve. Tonight, however, the girl looked different, like she’d gone too long without sun exposure and her color had faded to an unnatural pale. Bluish circles sat underneath her normally bright eyes.

“Are you okay?” Lacy asked her.

“Do you know if Chase or Mr. M. is here tonight?”

Everyone knew Chase took Monday Tuesdays off. Becky Lynn had been working at McDermott’s long enough to know the GM wouldn’t be there tonight.

“I don’t think either one of them are here.”

Becky Lynn slowly blinked long, thick black lashes over her eyes.

“But Anita’s here,” Lacy added.

A handful of dull, unwashed-looking blond hair slipped out of Becky Lynn’s ponytail when she lowered her head. “I really should talk to Chase. I can’t keep this from him anymore.”

 
That sounded ominous. Lacy and Becky Lynn hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of sentences in the entire time they’d been working together. Lacy didn’t know anything about her beyond that Becky Lynn was a twenty-two year old college graduate who’d yet to pursue a career that didn’t involve waiting tables.

“Okay,” was all Lacy said to the other girl’s cryptic statement. “I’m sure he’ll be here on Wednesday.”

Becky Lynn shook her head and looked everywhere in the break room but at Lacy. “I don’t work again until Friday.”

“I’m sure Anita can take care of whatever’s on your mind.” Well, she actually wasn’t sure. But heck, Becky Lynn looked lost and tired and…something that wasn’t quite right.

“She can’t. I need to talk to Chase.” She glanced at her black sporty-looking watch. “I have to go clock in.”

The conversation ended as abruptly as it started, leaving Lacy with no other choice but to follow Becky Lynn into the dining room. After clocking in and grabbing an order pad from the computer station, Lacy surveyed her section and took note of who sat where and who didn’t have food in front of them. Along the left wall in one of the booths sat a woman with dark curly hair, all by herself, reading a menu. The woman’s name eluded Lacy but she recognized the diner as a local.

She approached the woman whose silver earrings hung halfway down to her shoulders.

“Good evening, I’m Lacy and I’ll be your waitress,” she said, giving the woman her most practiced smile. “Have you been read tonight’s specials?”

“I’m waiting for Chase,” the black-haired woman remarked without taking her attention off the menu.

The smile never slipped off Lacy’s face. “Chase doesn’t work on Mondays.”

“Oh, he’ll be here. He asked me to come.” The woman’s gaze ran over the thick, leather-bound menu. One of her white-tipped, manicured fingernails tapped an even rhythm along the edge of the linen finish, twenty-four-pound paper. An emerald the size of a tennis ball winked from its place on the woman’s thin ring finger in the dimmed, romantic lighting. Whoever she was, she certainly wasn’t here to enjoy a steak dinner by herself.

Something very closely resembling jealousy, even though Lacy didn’t want to admit that’s what she felt, ran thick and hot through her midsection. This woman’s polished, sex-kitten appearance was the polar opposite to Lacy’s I-Barely-Managed-To-Run-A-Brush-Through-My-Hair persona.

She finally shifted dark, chocolate brown eyes up to Lacy. “Can you tell him I’m here?”

Even though Chase never mentioned anything about having an exclusive dating relationship, Lacy had come to assume while they were…doing their thing, he wouldn’t be running around with women who wore so much mascara they looked like they had tarantula legs growing out of their eyes.

Okay, that wasn’t such a nice thing to think. Just because this person was under the impression that Chase would make a special trip to the restaurant on his day off didn’t mean he was banging her.

Lacy’s blunt fingernails dug into the leather cover of her ordering book. “I already told you, he’s not here. He won’t be back until Wednesday.”

Tarantula Woman placed her menu down on the white table cloth. “He told me to come by. So I’m sure he’s here. Besides,” she continued and held up a brown paper sack. “I have something for him.”

The look on the woman’s face was along the lines of, “Oh you dear, sweet thing you have no idea what you’re talking about.” One thing that got beneath her skin more than anything else was pity. Pity was for losers who couldn’t take care of themselves.

Lacy reminded herself Tarantula Woman was still a customer and could stiff her on the tip if Lacy showed so much as hint of irritation. She forced another smile onto her face and tried not to picture scenarios in which Chase would be acquainted with this…person.

She yanked her ball-point pen out from behind her ear. “Can I get you something to drink while you’re waiting?”

The woman offered a closed-lipped smile. “I’ll have a bottle of Cabernet.”

Lacy froze with her pen above the ordering pad. “You want the entire bottle?”

“Yes.” The words “You moron” were implied but not spoken.

Lacy didn’t mention the fact that their Beringer Private Reserve ran at about one hundred dollars. If this woman wanted to blow a hundred bucks on a bottle of wine to drink all by herself that wasn’t any of Lacy’s business.

Forming as pleasant a smile as she could muster, Lacy turned from the table and went to feed her order for a single bottle of wine into the computer.

As she darted from one table to the next, taking orders and serving food as fast as she could, Lacy’s gaze invariably landed on the lone female diner in the booth. Had Chase really asked the woman to meet him here? Did he plan to dine with her? The curly-haired lady certainly seemed to think so. And where would she have gotten an idea like that unless Chase had planted it there? In all the years she known and sparred with him, she’d never taken him for a two-timer. In fact, she had no knowledge of him doing such a thing. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have it in him. He was, after all a man. All men had their weaknesses. Maybe Chase’s was curly-haired women with gaudy emerald rings.

On the other hand, they’d never labeled their relationship as anything official or exclusive. It just sort of happened and they hadn’t taken the time to hash out the nitty gritty details.

Lacy’s uncertainty stemmed from her lack of knowledge of his dating history. Or, more importantly, the women in his past. The other morning, after seeing his tattoo, she’d attempted to get some sort of insight out of him. She’d hoped he’d take her open-ended question as an invitation to be up-front with her. His evasive answer had been cute, and all. But underneath that, Lacy had been left unsatisfied. What was it, specifically he didn’t want to talk about?

As Lacy waited at the pass for Henry to plate the dishes, she thought back to Saturday night. Chase had shown up at her door sometime before midnight with finger-combed hair and a disarming smile. After drinking in his deliciousness for several moments, she’d grabbed his hand, led him to her room and they hadn’t surfaced until morning. She’d woken up to a feather-light kiss on her bare shoulder and the sound of him walking out the front door. The following twelve hours had been spent remembering little things like the heavy feel of his weight on the mattress next to her or how his eyes crinkled at the corners when she regaled him with stories of her college years. He’d asked her what her apartment looked like and how late she slept in on Sundays. Then he distracted her from her answers by running the tip of his finger down her spine and over the curve of her buttocks. When she asked him about college, he’d clammed up tighter than a virgin. With nothing more than a few vague answers such as, “it was an uneventful four years,” and “I don’t know, I was a typical college student.” Lacy seriously doubted that. Not many men had their penis size tattooed on their abdomen, even if it was a slight embellishment. After failing to elaborate on which Lacy suspected there was more, Chase had distracted her yet again by rolling her onto her stomach and dropping kisses down her backside.

A tactical battle strategy if she ever saw one. There was a singular event, or perhaps several, that he didn’t want her to know about. Maybe no one knew it. What could have happened to him that he didn’t want her know to about? Kicked out of school? No that wasn’t it. She remembered Brody talking about Chase’s graduation. Arrested for a DUI or something along those lines? The arrested part was entirely possible, considering he had several low-key arrests in high school. That particular scenario, Lacy couldn’t rule out. But what was the big deal with that? Chase had never been embarrassed about his brushes with the law before, so why now? Maybe it was something really scandalous like possession of drugs or a sex tape, which seemed to be the running fad lately among the rich and famous. For whatever reason, Lacy had a feeling this thing correlated with his dating past. The unknown was starting to get to her, like an itch she couldn’t satisfy.