Hot & Bothered (29 page)

“Be careful,” she told her daughter and saw with a little wash of bitterness that she wouldn't be missed for Esme had already turned back to chat animatedly with John. Taking her own advice, she made her way down to the bottom branch, where she stared in dismay at the considerable drop to the ground.

“Wait a sec,” John called down. “I'll give you a hand down.”

“No!”
God, no. She didn't think she could bear to be touched by him right now. Not when she knew it wouldn't hold close to the same meaning for him that it did for her. The instinctive denial had come out too abruptly, though, and she flung a vacuous smile in his general direction. “That is, no, thank you. I'm sure I can handle this.”

For a moment, she merely stared down at the limb beneath her feet and wondered how the hell she planned to do that. Disliking the helplessness of that mind-set, however, she forced herself to concentrate. She was an intelligent woman and this was hardly nuclear fusion. She crouched down and straddled the branch. Slowly she lay along its length on her stomach, and wrapping her hands and ankles around the limb, she eased herself over the side.

And suddenly she was on the underside of the branch, looking up.
Oh, shit.
She could see John and Esme's feet and legs overhead, but luckily they couldn't see her hanging upside down, clinging to the branch like a damn monkey. At least she hoped they couldn't.

Either way, she couldn't stay here all day. Uncrossing her ankles, she let her legs drop and gripped the branch with all her might as she prepared to hang by her hands.
She intended to get as close to the ground as possible before letting go.

That was the plan, anyhow. But she overestimated her upper body strength or underestimated the weight-velocity ratio of her dropping legs or figured
something
wrong, because the next thing she knew she'd garnered a nasty case of bark-burn on her palms as her body weight ripped them from the tree, and the ground was rushing up to meet her. She landed in a heap.

“You okay down there?” John inquired in an aloof voice.

She picked herself up. “I'm fine,” she said, dusting herself off.
Like you care.
“Just had a little trouble sticking the landing.” Gathering her tattered dignity, she hobbled toward the back corner of the house.

By the time she reached the kitchen door, however, she knew she was more shaken by the fall than bruised. And by the time she reached Father's new office, she'd shoved her unruly, roiling emotions into the darkest closet her mind could produce and slammed the door. She'd deal with them later. Right now she had to find out if her theory was correct. She had to see if there truly was a false wall at the west end of the office.

Something had always disturbed her about this room and now she knew what it was. Its inner length was shorter than the outside wall suggested. While she'd never consciously observed the discrepancy between exterior and interior measurements, her mind had apparently made note of it at one time or another and had been trying to feed her the information whenever she'd had occasion to be in the room.

She crossed to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase at the far end of the room and visually examined it. The whole unit must swing out somehow, she decided. Stepping closer,
she felt carefully along the outside edge of its ornate molding, palpating it inch by inch in hopes of locating some kind of pressure latch. When that availed her nothing, she went over the same ground again, only this time along the molding's surface.

It wasn't until she applied pressure against the recessed paneling forming the interior of the built-in that she felt something give beneath her fingers. She'd found a buried latch, but the bookshelves didn't budge. Maintaining steady pressure on the spot, she continued feeling her way up the interior of the case with her free hand. That didn't garner results, so she inched her fingers along its ceiling. And suddenly she found a second pressure point. The case still didn't move, but she realized the surprise of finding the second latch had made her relax the pressure she'd been applying against the first, and she firmly pressed both.

The bookcase swung silently open.

“Oh, my God.” Despite her newly realized belief that there had to be a secret space behind the wall, she was startled to actually discover it. It was simply too Nancy Drew and people didn't just step into girl detective books.

There was nothing the least bit fictional about the hidden bay, however—the space behind the bookcase was incontrovertible. It was only about eighteen inches deep, with a narrow shelf at the top that contained a single box. She reached out and opened it.

She fully expected to find the missing bearer bonds by this time and she did, but after mentally adding them up two times, their sheer cumulative value still made her whistle. She put them back in the box, closed the lid, and stood back.
Now
what did she do?

She knew she should take them straight to John, but her
heart ached at the thought of facing him. Yet, what other choice did she have?

“Father must have hidden them,” she muttered in an attempt to cheer herself up. “So at least everyone in the house is off the hook.”

“Well, now,” said a dry voice from behind her. “As much as I'd love to simply leave it at that, I've worked too damn hard for those babies to let you add them to the estate fund where I'll never see a penny.”

Startled, Victoria whipped around. To her surprise DeeDee stood not five feet away. The other woman was dressed in her tennis whites and sneakers, one of the rare times Victoria had ever seen her without her signature sky-high heels. Her hair was twisted up in an artful froth of curls, her face was fully made up and two diamond tennis bracelets glittered at her wrists.

But it was the accessory at her side that commanded Victoria's full attention. For her father's widow held a knife in her hand that had the longest, wickedest looking blade she had ever seen in her life.

And DeeDee gripped it like she meant business.

“A
RE YOU TALKING ABOUT THESE
?” Victoria gave the box of bonds on the shelf at her back a quick glance over her shoulder, then turned her attention back to DeeDee. Her gaze drifted instantly to the knife, which fascinated her in much the same way a snake might. Forcing herself to look away, she peered into DeeDee's face. “What do you mean you worked too hard for them?”

Then she wished she hadn't asked, because only one thing made sense. She was very much afraid she already knew the answer, and like an idiot, she just blurted it out. “Dear God. You killed Father, didn't you?”

Her voice emerged as little more than a horrified croak, but DeeDee clearly heard her all the same. The other woman shrugged, patted the blade of the knife against the open palm of her free hand and said conversationally, “You really are the biggest pain in the ass, you know that? I pulled off the perfect crime, although that seems a pretty harsh word for it since—as that song in
Chicago
goes—he had it coming. Still, you gotta admit I was good and in a week or so I would've been out of here and home free. But, no. Oh, no. You just had to go poking around and discover the secret closet, didn't you? How the hell did you find it, anyhow?”

Victoria gathered her wits and launched into an expla
nation that she intended to be full of detail and most importantly
long.
“It was more a feeling than anything concrete. Every time I was in this room something just felt…wrong. I kept thinking it ought to be lighter, or taller, or longer, or somethi—”

“Never mind,” DeeDee cut her off. “I don't care. The only thing that matters is that you managed to screw everything up. And isn't that just my luck?” She shook her head, her blond curls bobbing and an edge of bitterness crept into her tone. “You know, I really thought I'd hit the jackpot when your father married me. I was so happy to have money again and be in the company of the movers and shakers that I didn't even care about the prenup he made me sign. At least at first.”

The reminder, from Victoria's point of view, was unfortunate, since it made DeeDee's eyes darken and her mouth twist. With clear, sinister intent, the woman took a step toward her.

“But then you had to live with him,” Victoria hastened to interject.
Keep her talking. Just keep her talking while you figure out how the hell you're going to wiggle your way out of this.
“That can't have been easy. He was a difficult man.” Oh, God. Where was John when she really needed him?

Luckily for her, DeeDee apparently wasn't immune to sympathy. What's more, she clearly wanted someone to know and appreciate how clever she'd been, for she stopped and nodded. “Right. Then I had to live with the bastard. The funny part is, I knew going in that I could put up with his crappy temper and power plays. What I didn't count on was having to sleep every damn night of the week with a man old enough to be my father.” She shuddered. “That just about killed me, let me tell ya.”

Victoria really wished she hadn't used that particular description, for the word hung in the air between them and seemed to strengthen DeeDee's determination. Her father's widow—
no, face it, Tori, his killer
—squared her shoulders and took another step in her direction.

Victoria backed up, holding out her hands, palms out. “You don't want to do this, DeeDee.”

To her surprise, the other woman stopped once again. “No,” she agreed in a tone suggesting she wasn't particularly happy about it, “I don't—or else I would've stuck you before you even knew I was in the room. You're such a Goody Two-shoes, it makes me wanna barf, but you let me stay after Ford's death when you could've kicked me out. Of course, that would have given me the excuse I needed to leave with the bonds without raising suspicion.” That apparently recalled her annoyance, but she shrugged it aside. “Still, you didn't have to be so decent to me.”

“So why didn't you simply take the bonds in the first place? Why kill Father?”

“Are you kidding? Surely you knew him better than that. It was pure chance that I even saw him open the bookcase one night and I gotta tell you, when I came back later and discovered what he'd hidden here, I just knew I'd hit the mother lode. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that no way in hell would Ford just roll over and quietly accept my taking them. There might not be a damn thing he could do about it legally, but when did that ever stop him from getting what he wanted? Ford wasn't one to give up what was his and he'd probably have a contract out on me quicker than you can say, ‘Put that on my tab.'” A new thought clearly disgruntled her. “Worse, he had contacts all over the world, so he'd sure as hell make certain everyone knew I'd stolen
from him. Even if I lived long enough to spend the bonds, no one who counted would have welcomed me the way they should have. So I put it off.”

Her face hardened. “Then the night of the dinner party, Ford told me he was divorcing me. That bastard virtually said he expected me to be the perfect little hostess for his fucking soiree, then pack my stuff and start looking for a new place to live because he was
tired
of me.” She glared at Victoria, the flat of the knife blade slapping rapidly against her palm. “
He
was tired of
me.
So, you know, I didn't plan what happened. But when I found him in the library where the kid had knocked him out, and he woke up and demanded a hand up as if I were his goddamn lackey…well, it was the last straw.”

Victoria believed her and the fact that it hadn't been a cold-blooded execution gave her a moment of hope. “So just take the bonds and leave, DeeDee. I won't tell anyone.”

The other woman's eyes narrowed. “Do I look stupid to you?”

“No, of course not. But you want to get away with the money,
I
want to live and—”

“Ten seconds after I'm out the door you'll be yelling for the Italian Stallion.”

A bitter laugh escaped Victoria. “Right. As if
he'd
give a rip.”

“Get out!” DeeDee shot her a look rife with skepticism. “You two have something hot and heavy going.”

“Yeah, so I thought, too. But John made it plain as could be today it was a temporary fling that's now over.” Not liking the gathering resolution she saw on DeeDee's face, she rushed to ask, “Why did you push that phony engagement between us, anyway? I mean, you knew what no one else did—that John's only reason for being here
was to find Jared and clear his name. I would've thought, given the secret you were hiding, you would have wanted him out of here.”

“Yeah, that was a mistake. It bugged me that a guy so young and hot seemed to prefer you to me. And it was clear that the two of you had some hang-ups about each other. So I shoved you together because I could and then got all caught up enjoying my private little joke. Too caught up, as it turns out. I thought I was so smart to be pulling a fast one right under everyone's noses—
especially
your darling P.I.'s. But I guess I miscalculated. I assumed
he
was the one I had to keep an eye on—not you. My mistake.”

Victoria glanced covertly around the office, looking for something,
anything,
she might use to help her out of this predicament. “Even so, I'm impressed with the way you resisted rushing your exit. That was smart.”

It turned out to be the wrong thing to say, for the other woman's eyes went hard as diamonds. “Yes, dammit, I handled the situation brilliantly. Until
you
had to go ruin everything. So let's quit screwing around here. We both know the only way I'm ever going to get out of this with both my bonds and my freedom is if you aren't running around kicking up a storm. So be a good girl. There's the closet just waiting to conceal a new secret. Do us both a favor and get in without a fuss.”

“Sure.” Victoria held her hands up in a hey-I'm-not-arguing-here gesture. “Whatever you say.” Better to spend time in a stifling closet until someone came to let her out than be stabbed. Putting on a face to show how well she was cooperating, she took a baby step backward.

Her thoughts must have somehow shown, however, for DeeDee gave her a smug smile.

She stopped dead. “What?”

“Did I mention it's soundproof?”

Victoria started to panic at the thought of slowly suffocating in a small confined space, then saw the pleased-with-herself expression on DeeDee's face and forced herself to relax. “Why are you doing this? I thought you didn't want to hurt me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I changed my mind. Maybe the more I think of the way you torpedoed all my hard work, the less charitable I'm feeling.”

“Someone will find me.”

“You think? Didn't you say you and John weren't on the greatest terms? So probably not, dear, especially after I tell him you had an emergency in London. But hey, he does seem fond of the brat for some damn reason, so just to show you how bighearted I can be, I will let him know you wanted him to watch her for you.”

Victoria's anger and determination rose with every word DeeDee uttered. One way or another, it appeared, the other woman intended for her to die. If it was bloodless and DeeDee didn't have to watch, she probably figured it didn't really count. Well, she'd always said DeeDee wasn't too bright. For if she had been, she would have kept her mouth shut. Victoria had been willing to take her chances with the closet until the bitch had painted it as a death trap.

“Or maybe I should just leave the brat with Helen,” DeeDee continued, clearly enjoying having the upper hand, or perhaps simply the thought of messing with her mind. “Because, honey, I'd sure like a piece of that man. And if you're out of the picture and he's unencumbered…well.” She slowly stroked her free hand down her curves. “Umum. Might as well show him what a real woman can do.”

All right.
Tori's chin shot up.
That does it!