Luck Be a Lady (Tahoe Tessie Mysteries) (11 page)

Luckily the lifties let us line-jump again, escorting us to the front where we quickly jumped onto an open chair on the lift. Climbing up a steeper part of the enormous mountain, the colder air even permeated my pink fluff.

As we slid off the chair and strapped our boards on, a knot of anticipation and a teeny bit of fear formed in my gut. It had been a while since I'd been on a board, not to mention that I was getting ready to hurl myself down a gigantic mountain with the area's reigning champ. I'd obviously not thought the whole thing through when I agreed.

But Rafe didn't give me much chance to express my concern, and he shouted, "Race you!" and took off like a shot down the hill.

I swallowed back my pride and pushed off behind him.

Rafe took a commanding lead, glancing back over his shoulder on occasion. I surprised myself with moves I hadn't used in years, even gaining on him a few times. I followed Rafe from slope to lift several times, knowing he was more familiar with the mountain than any trained rescue worker in the area. I had to admit, it felt good to just relax and enjoy myself. Nothing mattered for those few hours but the snow, the amazing mountain scenery, and the view of the tight little butt I followed.

Until the sun started disappearing behind the peak.

Shortly after, we found ourselves back at Tamarack Lodge and the gondola that would take us to Heavenly Village.

And reality.

As I gave back my borrow gear and stashed the now much too-warm jacket in Rafe's locker, I was torn between willing the sun back into the sky and knowing how sore my muscles would already be the next day. The cable car wrenched us back down the mountain, and I watched the remaining sunbeams twinkling on the snow. Rafe's voice tugged me from my reverie.

"So, when was the last time you painted something?"

I waved a dismissive hand toward him and looked back out the window.

"Seriously," he insisted, grabbing my chin in his gloved hand, turning my face back toward his.

I got lost in his emerald green eyes. I mean,
completely
lost myself for a while. I felt my face flush warm in the cool air as I struggled to remember the question. "I-I don't know. A while I guess. I'm just… not that good."

"I thought you were great." His face was somber, serious, and I was suddenly very aware of how close we were to one another. He still held my chin, my face turned upward toward his. Time froze as my eyes locked on his lips. He leaned toward me and his breath brushed my cheek. I was 90% sure he was going to kiss me when our car slowed, the liftie holding a hand to help me out.

Timing.

The end-of-day crowd bustled through Heavenly Village, dragging us along with them back toward the casino. As we walked through slush piled streets back to the Royal Palace, I purposefully avoided eye contact with Rafe, almost afraid it might make me ask about the almost-kiss.

As we rounded the circle drive of the casino, I noticed that local news vans filled most of the space.

Rafe sighed. "I'm sure they want to find out how the snow was today. Do you want a little free publicity? I can plug the casino and you as the new owner. They don't have to know its temporary."

I shook my head emphatically. "No, I think that's best left on a need-to-know basis for now."

"Your call." He bared his teeth at me, giving me his killer smile. "My fans await, then."

He raised a hand as we approached the vans, calling out to the crowd, "Hey, it's good to see you all!"

Heads jerked our way, eyes bouncing from Rafe to me, then back again.

Finally one of the women wearing a Channel Four logo jacket shoved a microphone at Rafe and asked, "What do you think about the allegations that Tessie King killed her father?"

CHAPTER TEN

I stood shaking beside Rafe as the elevator rose, my mind trying to digest what was happening. Had someone alerted the media that I was a suspect? Had that someone been Ryder? He seemed like he'd believed me about the DynoDrink, but then again, wasn't bluffing part of his job?

"You okay?" Rafe asked, squinting down at me.

I nodded, though it was a bald-faced lie.

I'd never been so glad to have a man take charge of a situation in my life. After the reporters surrounded us, Rafe tucked me under his arm and shoved through the crowd, all while screaming, "No comment!" Cameras clicked and news teams yelled louder and louder, trying to be heard over the others. After a failed attempt to take refuge in my room, outside which another microphone toting blabbermouth was camped, I'd settled on the penthouse.

But as the elevator doors opened, I saw that a very different crowd gathered there. The local police, which was only slightly better.

"What's going on?" Rafe demanded of the officer nearest the door.

I watched recognition wash over the officer's eyes as he darted over to us, though his expression remained impassive. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lorenzo. This is a crime scene, and the details cannot be discussed."

Stepping from behind Rafe's protective presence, I announced, "This is my casino, which makes this my business."

"Ah, Ms. King." The officer's face brightened a bit. "Mrs. King has been asking for you."

Rafe tried to follow behind me as the officer led me in, but the guy instantly put his hand out to block Rafe's path.

"I'm afraid that Ra…Mr. Lorenzo will have to wait here."

"That's bullsh—" he started.

"It's okay," I quickly jumped in before Rafe's temper had any more time to simmer. Antagonizing the police was not going to help my situation with the media any. Or his, for that matter.

Rafe looked like he wanted to say more, but he shut his mouth with a click. Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of damp hair behind my ear. "You sure?" he asked.

I nodded, doing my best convincing face.

"Don't worry about the reporters. I'm sure Alfie will chase them out soon enough," he told me. "I'll call you later."

I grinned up at him. "Thanks. For everything."

He winked at me, then turned and hit the down arrow. I watched him disappear behind the polished silver doors before following the officer into the hot mess that was now the penthouse.

Kitchen drawers lay on the floor, their contents scattered on the imported marble tile. Furniture cushions and pillows had been tossed around haphazardly, leaving the chairs and couch bare. Dozens of plainclothes detectives and uniformed officers milled around, chatting amongst themselves as they poked and prodded every inch of the place. While the penthouse looked like a tornado had hit, it wasn't until I saw one officer start manhandling the Vermeer that I snapped.

I opened my mouth to yell, but Britton's voice rang above the chaos first. "Be careful with that! It's an original!" She charged through the crowd and swatted the man's gloved hands. Wide eyed, he glanced down at the tiny, pissed-off blonde.

Running to her side, I escorted her away before the man's shock wore off and he decided she'd assaulted an officer. Though I couldn't help adding as I dragged her away, "She wasn't kidding. Be gentle with that painting."

Britton wrapped her arms around me, quivering, clinging as though her life depended on it. "Oh, thank God," she breathed. "Tell them to quit touching everything, please."

"What happened?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. They just showed up here and said they had a warrant to search everything."

I frowned. Ryder had said he'd look into a warrant for the DynoDrink, but he hadn't mentioned tearing the penthouse apart from top to bottom. I glanced around the penthouse for a glimpse of him, but as far as I could tell, he wasn't there. If he'd been the one to get the warrant, he hadn't stuck around to do the dirty work.

"What in the hell is going on here?"

I spun to find Stintner standing in the doorway.

"I'd like to see a warrant immediately and speak to whoever is in charge," the lawyer's commanding voice roared through the room.

"Oh, thank God," Britton repeated, running to him and doing a repeat of the clinging hug she'd just given me.

The lawyer's eyebrows rose, but he didn't exactly look upset at a hot blonde throwing herself at him. It was probably the most action the old guy'd had in years.

"Tell them to get their grubby hands off my stuff. Some of it's priceless," Britton said, practically wailing the last word.

"Trust me, I intend to," Stintner assured her, grabbing a warrant from one of the officers.

"Did you know the press is downstairs?" I asked Britton while he read the legalese.

She nodded, biting her lower lip, leaving a little void in her ruby lipstick. "It's a nightmare, Tess. What are we going to do?"

I wished I had an answer for that one. "Alfie's on it I suppose?"

Again she nodded. "He called Stintner for me, too."

I looked up at the lawyer, now pointing out a fine legality in the warrant to one of the plainclothes detectives. Clearly Stintner had the situation under control.

"I'm going to find Alfie," I told Britton, hoping he'd be able to clear the hallway at my room first and foremost. "You okay here?"

She took a deep quivering breath and flashed me the most unconvincing smile I'd ever seen. "I'm sure Stintner can handle this."

I gave her a fortifying squeeze on the shoulder before backing toward the door. After the accusations the press had thrown at me, I half expected someone to stop me. But none of the officers even gave me a second look. I slipped into the hallway and pulled out my phone. Though before I could dial the head of security, I noticed I'd had sixteen missed calls in the last hour. Most were from my mother, the others from work and my boss's cell phone. The news of my supposed guilt had obviously hit home.

I thought a really dirty word, then dug through my purse for Agent Ryder's number. I typed it into my phone and texted,
meet me
.

A moment later my phone rang in my hand, his number displaying.

"The media thinks I killed my father," I blurted out as I answered.

"Nice greeting," he observed.

I felt the initial shock I'd experienced at arriving in the middle of a media frenzy all implicating me quickly converting to frustration. "In case you didn't see the hoard of news people demanding my head in the lobby, please note I'm currently incapable of nice!"

"O-kay," he said in a maddeningly calm voice. "What would you like me to do about it?"

"Take my alibi down, interview witnesses to where I was the day my father died, issue a statement saying I am not some monster who killed her own father!" I paced the small hallway, really getting worked up now.

"You want me to take down your alibi now? Last time I asked, you said you didn't remember having one."

"I was sitting at my desk, at work, when I got the message he'd passed. I'd been there since eight." The buzz of inane chatter around me in the gallery as I'd read Britton's text message about my father still rang in my ears. "I'd been home the night before watching TV. Alone, unless you count my cat. The last time I was even in Tahoe was two-and-a-half years ago, and my knowledge of poisons is limited to the fact that you shouldn't lick the seal of envelopes, especially cheap ones, so there's no way I put anything in his health shake, which apparently I'm the only person on the face of the earth who didn't know he drank on a daily basis."

I could have sworn I heard a grin brewing on the other end of the line. "That's some alibi."

"Thank you," I huffed out. Though upon further consideration, I wasn't sure he was complimenting me. "So am I good?"

Ryder cleared his throat. "I've already spoken with both your mother and your boss. They've gone into the local P.D. and filled out statements as to your whereabouts on the day in question."

I paused. "You hauled
my mother
into the police station?!"

"Your mother volunteered to come in," he corrected.

"I'll just bet she did," I mumbled under my breath, imagining the lecture I was going to get the next time I talked to her. "Look, this is all just some big mistake. There's no way I—"

But I was cut off by the elevator dinging and the doors sliding open to reveal Ryder himself. He had on his usual dark slacks and starched dress shirt, but his tie was loosened and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. I blame the transformation from buttoned-down to casual for the slowing of my reflexes as he walked up to me and pulled my phone from my ear. He hit the "off" button, then handed it back. Then looked down at my outfit and raised one eyebrow my way. "Cute."

"It's not mine," I protested against the fluffy pants that were beginning to become way too warm for indoors.

He shrugged. "Too bad. You look good in pink."

I blinked at him trying to decide if he was giving me an actual compliment or just trying to distract me from my tirade.

"Your mother is a very nice woman, by the way," Ryder said, pulling his eyes away from the pink marshmallow-ness of my lower half. "She's worried about you, though. You should call her back."

I shook my head, ignoring the jab at my bad-daughter status. "How'd you know where I was?"

Hands splayed to his sides, he grinned. "I'm a detective."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Okay, since you have an answer for everything, tell me why the media thinks I killed my father."

His grin disappeared. "Ah, this one will be a bit harder, because I have to delve into the intricate workings of the single brain cell all reporters share."

"Not a fan?"

He shook his head, a frown forming between his brows. "Word of your father's death being changed from natural causes to murder brought them out from under their rocks. Your mother being brought in for questioning didn't help matters. And the fact that you're dating Rafe Lorenzo makes you prime tabloid fodder."

"I'm not dating Rafe," I shot back before I could stop myself.

Ryder raised one questioning eyebrow. "According to the early local news, you spent the day with him. And arrived here arm in arm."

"
His
arm was around me. To protect me from the media," I said. Though even as I was defending my not-dating status to Ryder, I could feel the warmth from Rafe's protective embrace on my shoulders. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant memory.