Читать книгу The Millionaire Meets His Match - Patricia Seeley - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Cass glowered at the smiling gardener, trying without success to ignore the physical sensations that flooded through her body when she looked into his laughing green eyes. She was certain she knew exactly what this man expected her to offer by way of a bribe.

She wasn’t willing to go that far to see Mrs. Crosswhite. There had to be some other way to get inside the fence. But before she left this gate, admitting temporary defeat, she could still salvage a minor triumph. It would be a real pleasure to slap the smirk off the gardener’s face. “Just what do you have in mind?” she asked with studied innocence.

‘Well...” the man stepped back and made another exaggerated survey of her through half-closed eyes veiled by dark lashes. He smiled slowly. ”You could climb the fence.”

Cass stared at him, uncomprehending, so prepared for him to say something else that she could muster no response to what he actually said.

“You see,” he continued, “if I were to go back to my digging and you were to climb the fence while I wasn’t looking, then you could say that you’d become lost on the way to the house, and I’d have to show you there. It wouldn’t be as though I’d actually let you in. Once you’re on the grounds, you’re presumed to be a guest and I’d have to show you every courtesy.” The gardener’s grin was even wider now, and more knowing. He’d guessed the kind of proposition Cass expected and was enjoying her speechless confusion.

His smug good humor irritated her, not least because she knew how unfairly she’d judged him. She’d taken for granted he felt the same physical attraction that kept intruding, unbidden, into her own thoughts. Then she’d compounded that error by assuming he was the sort of man to take advantage of a woman in a difficult situation.

Cass narrowed her eyes in deliberation as she studied first the tall iron fence, then the gardener. If he was on a power trip, it was different from anything she’d seen before. He looked more like a kid who’d just dared his best friend to try something that would get them both in trouble. She glanced at the fence again. From the corner of her eye she saw the gardener’s eyebrows lift, as if he didn’t really believe she would even consider his bizarre proposal.

Cass took off her shoes and thrust them through the iron bars at the gardener. “Hold these,” she instructed, handing him her purse next, then shedding the boxy jacket of her suit. She hitched her skirt up to midthigh. Giving one last peek at the gardener’s astonished face, she proceeded to scale the fence with easy athletic grace. At the top she hiked her skirt higher and held on to it with one hand while she jumped down onto the grass of the Crosswhite estate, landing lightly with a deep flex of her knees. She stood up, dusting imaginary grass stains from her hands, then walked over to the gardener. “Thank you,” she said as she retrieved her clothes and put on her lowheeled pumps.

The gardener laughed again. This time Cass felt oddly pleased to have provoked the rich tenor explosion of delight.

“I can see you didn’t misspend your youth in smoky pool halls,” he said. “You must have been the local tomboy.”

“I still am,” Cass said proudly, defying him to contradict her. Her heart had begun pounding in delayed reaction to her reckless act.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” he said. He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“Good. Then just tell me where to find Mrs. Crosswhite and you can go back to what you were doing.”

He reached for the white T-shirt lying on the grass and quickly pulled it on. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he began.

Cass bridled instantly. “What? I thought we had a deal? You said—”

“Easy, girl, easy! I’m not reneging. I’m just trying to explain to you that I have to go with you. You’ll never find Emilie without a guide. Any of her employees would toss you out before you had a chance to look for her unless you’re with someone they know. They’re a very protective bunch. So stick with me, and I’ll do all the talking if anyone stops us. Got it?”

“Got it,” Cass said, tucking her damp blouse back into the equally damp waistband of her skirt. She decided to carry her jacket, at least until they reached the house.

“Good.” The gardener reached for her hand and tugged lightly to start her moving. He kept hold of her hand as they walked, even though it was clear to Cass they were simply heading in a straight line across the grassy expanse of lawn toward the imposing manor house. The huge hand enveloping hers comforted Cass, like a promise of safe passage through the terrors of life. She felt a surge of optimism. She had made it inside the gates. She was going to see Mrs. Crosswhite. Everything could work out, after all.

They came up on the rear of the house, threading their way through an elaborate English-style garden with a maze of box hedges. They crossed a broad brick patio to a set of French doors, which the gardener pulled open, gesturing for Cass to go inside. She hesitated, watching him kneel down to unlace and kick off his boots before entering the house himself.

Once inside he crossed rapidly to a wall phone and picked it up, not bothering to dial. A few moments later he said, “Mark? I’m in the morning room. Would you ask Emilie to meet me here? I’ve brought her an unexpected guest.”

The morning room. That was a good name for it. It would be even more impressive in the early hours of the day than it was now in late afternoon. Huge windows and glass doors allowed the sunlight to bathe every corner. Beautiful healthy-looking plants flaunted their rainbow hues everywhere—tall ones standing in pots on the floor, smaller ones resting on tables or hanging in baskets from overhead hooks. White wicker furniture accented with overstuffed cushions in a green and yellow floral pattern completed the motif. Cass could have believed she was standing in a furnished greenhouse, except the air was deliciously cool.

The gardener hung up the phone and flopped into one of the flowered chairs. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

Comfort was an impossibility at that moment, despite the cultivated charm of the room. Cass was too worried about her impending interview with Mrs. Crosswhite. She tried to mentally compose herself, but found herself distracted by questions about the man who had brought her this far in her quest to rescue Crudley. He’d twice referred to Mrs Crosswhite as “Emilie.” The first time, Cass had dismissed it, assuming he was being flippant about his employer in the way many employees are when the boss is out of earshot. Now she was forced to consider whether she had completely mistaken this man’s function at Crosswhite Manor and his relationship with its owner.

He seemed perfectly at ease inside the residence. He’d let himself in without a second’s thought, removing his boots first with what might be interpreted as proprietary care. He knew where the house phone was and used it to issue a rather peremptory summons for Mrs. Crosswhite. Now he lounged casually in a chair, awaiting the great lady’s arrival while encouraging Cass to make herself comfortable, too, as though he had every right to bring anyone into this house on any terms he chose. Who was he?

Cass licked her lips nervously. At this point he was her only ally. She’d tried lying to him, ordering him around and finally bribing him to worm her way inside the gate. He’d laughed all that off and helped her, anyway. Would he have let her in the gate if she hadn’t taken up his ridiculous challenge to scale the fence? She had no clue. It made her uneasy, though, having to worry about his motives and his pull with the woman whose help she’d come to request.

Cass pulled on the jacket to her suit and smoothed it as best she could, then ran her fingers through her wildly disarrayed hair trying to restore it to some semblance of neatness. She perched carefully on the edge of a chair and flicked a quick look at her guide. He was watching her with continuing frank amusement. She suppressed her irritation and forced herself to meet his laughing eyes. “Thank you for helping me,” she said.

He shrugged. “We had a deal. Maybe you’d better tell me your name, though. It will make the introductions easier when Emilie arrives.”

“Cass Appleton.”

“Gabe Preston. Nice to meet you.”

She nodded, then they lapsed into silence for several minutes.

The door opened abruptly. A tiny white-haired woman floated in wearing a long silvery gown that made her look like an earthbound cherub. She turned immediately to the gardener, who’d risen automatically at the sound of her arrival. “Gabriel, darling,” she said, lifting her smooth powdered cheek for a kiss.

“Hi, Emilie.” He gave her a hug along with the kiss.

The woman turned quickly to Cass, who also stood automatically. “And you’ve brought a guest. How wonderful.” She drifted forward as though she were walking on a cloud, her hand outstretched to grasp Cass’s. “It’s so lovely to meet one of Gabriel’s friends.”

“She’s here to see you, Emilie,” Gabe explained. “I just happened to meet her on the grounds, so I showed her the way to the house. Emilie, this is Cass Appleton. Cass, Emilie Crosswhite.”

“You’re here to see me?” Emilie Crosswhite repeated, turning to Gabe while clinging to Cass’s hand. “I thought I didn’t have any appointments this afternoon.”

“I don’t have an appointment, Mrs. Crosswhite,” Cass confessed, releasing the tiny cool hand that had gripped hers with unexpected firmness. “I didn’t have time to make one. I’m here because of an emergency.”

“An emergency!” Mrs. Crosswhite’s clear blue eyes dimmed with concern. Her classically arched eyebrows drew together as she frowned. “Sit down, my dear. Gabriel, ring for tea, won’t you please?” She led Cass to a sofa and sat, patting the cushion next to her. “Tell me all about it.”

Cass sat and her eyes flicked toward Gabe, who was speaking on the house phone. “It’s rather personal,” she said softly.

Mrs. Crosswhite followed the direction of her glance. “You mustn’t worry about Gabriel. my dear. He’s my godson and my most trusted friend. I have no secrets from him.” She laughed gaily, like a girl. “Except my age of course. No one knows that but me, and I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten it.”

Gabriel had hung up the phone and stood propped against a high-backed chair, his forearms resting lightly on the wicker. His sea green eyes were alert and watchful, belying the casual pose.

Cass took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I know where to begin.”

Emilie Crosswhite patted her hand. “Just take your time, dear, and do the best you can. Gabriel will explain it to me if I don’t understand at first.”

That wasn’t a reassuring thought. Cass turned so she wouldn’t have to see Gabe’s face when she told Mrs. Crosswhite the reason for her visit. “Someone has kidnapped my cat,” she said.

“Oh, my dear!” Mrs. Crosswhite exclaimed, genuine distress clear on her face. “How awful for you.”

Cass ignored the choking snorting sounds coming from Gabe Preston’s direction and concentrated on capitalizing on Mrs. Crosswhite’s sympathy. “They didn’t mean to take my cat. They meant to take your cat, Princess Athabasca.”

“My cat?” Emilie Crosswhite looked confused. She shot a quick look at Gabe, searching for a clue to Cass’s mysterious statement. Apparently he was no help. She focused on Cass again. “I don’t understand, dear.”

“There was a burglary at Dr. Bellingham’s clinic last night,” Cass explained. “Whoever broke in took my cat and left a note. The note said the kidnappers would be calling you tonight to give you instructions on when and where to leave the ransom money. They think they stole Princess Athabasca, but they made a mistake and took the wrong cat. My cat.”

“That is the most ridiculous—” Gabe began.

Emilie Crosswhite brought him up short with a stern look, then addressed Cass. “What does your cat look like, dear?”

“He’s a big gray tom with gold eyes. Bobby, one of the kennel boys who works for Dr. Bellingham, says there’s a strong superficial resemblance between Crudley and the Princess.”

“Crudley?” Gabe echoed in disbelief. Cass nodded without looking at him. For the first time she wished she’d given her cat a more impressive name.

Emilie, however, seemed quite taken with the name. “That would be,” she ventured, “C-r-u-d-l-e-i-g-h? He is French, isn’t he?”

The unmistakable twinkle in Emilie Crosswhite’s eyes filled Cass with renewed hope. She smiled and shook her head in answer. “No, he’s American. It’s just plain l-e-y.”

“How refreshing! And what a relief, really. The French can be so fiercely independent one hesitates to offer help. A French cat, no matter how desperate his straits, might very well try to bite the hand that rescued him. I speak with some authority. We had a French poodle once—”

“Emilie,” Gabe interrupted, his voice dropping to a lower warning register.

“Now, Gabriel,” Emilie Crosswhite answered him, a hint of willfulness in her tone, “you know we have to help the girl.”

“This is not your problem,” he insisted.

“Of course it is,” she countered. “Someone tried to kidnap Princess Athabasca. They failed, but only because this girl’s brave cat thwarted their plans by valiantly substituting himself for their intended victim. It could easily be the Princess and not poor Crudley languishing in a cold dark cage somewhere without food or water or a kind voice to cheer him.”

Gabe rolled his eyes theatrically and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Emilie, your whimsical interpretation of events is an almost constant delight to me. But in this case, I think you’re overreacting. This woman is a stranger. She showed up here today unannounced, charmed her way past the staff—” he had the grace to stumble a little over that “—and now she’s trying to sell you this preposterous story, apparently in the hope you’ll feel guilty and agree to pay off some alleged kidnappers for the return of a cat she may or may not even own.”

Cass was prepared to take offense when Emilie Crosswhite took it for her. “Now who’s being ridiculous?” the older woman demanded. “No one would name an imaginary cat ‘Crudley.’ He’s obviously a real cat, and he’s obviously an innocent bystander, caught up in a plot to extort money from me. I cannot simply abandon this poor animal or pretend I bear no responsibility for what happens to him. He would be safe at this moment if I hadn’t taken the Princess to that wretched clinic for her yearly tonic.”

Cass had a fleeting vision of a kitty health spa where overweight and overpampered cats dined on caviar and drank Perrier water while attendants brushed their fur and clipped their unused claws. Then Gabe rejoined the argument. “What if she does own a cat named Crudley? What if he was at Dr. Bellingham’s clinic last night and he’s missing now? How do you know this woman isn’t the extortionist herself? How do you know she didn’t come here today to give you this sob story in person just to convince you to pay the ransom?”

“Very simply,” Cass interrupted, her temper rising at Gabe’s about-face and his attempt to blacken her character. “You know that isn’t true because I didn’t come here to ask Mrs. Crosswhite for any money.”

Emilie Crosswhite beamed at Cass, then threw a smug little smile in Gabe’s direction. “You see?” she scolded him. “I keep telling you not to assume the worst about people.”

Gabriel Preston colored deeply, an unreadable mix of emotions flashing across his face. He wasn’t ready to surrender, however. “Why did you come here, then?” he demanded of Cass.

“To ask Mrs. Crosswhite if she’d help by stalling the kidnappers when they call.” She turned to Emilie. “If you could play along with them, tell them you need time to collect the ransom and most of all not tell them they have the wrong cat, then that will give me a chance to notify the police. They can set up a phone trace or something and catch the people who did this.”

“The police are not going to go to all that trouble because of a missing cat,” Gabe interjected.

“He’s not missing. He was stolen,” Cass corrected hotly.

“Even if he was,” Gabe said wearily, “that isn’t a crime.”

“Of course it’s a crime!”

Gabe shook his head. “Cats are not considered property in this county.”

The two women stared at him, uncomprehending. “What does that mean?” Cass finally demanded.

“It means cats can’t be ‘stolen’ because legally they don’t belong to anyone. They’re like squirrels or raccoons.”

Emilie waved off Gabe’s statement. “They’re not a bit like either of those creatures.”

“Legally speaking, Emilie, cats are considered no different from wild animals. Unless they’re living on a game preserve, protected by state or federal government, their welfare falls outside the scope of the law.”

“But that’s absurd—”

“I never heard of anything—”

Both women had spoken at once. Both broke off at the same time, silently considering the implication of Gabe’s words. Cass found her voice first. “What about the break-in at the clinic? Isn’t that a crime?”

“Of course,” Gabe acknowledged. “And if the doctor notifies the police, they’ll take a report and conduct a routine investigation. They aren’t going to hunt for a missing cat, though.”

Cass’s jaw muscles tightened. “What about the ransom note? What happens when the kidnappers call and demand money from Mrs. Crosswhite? Isn’t that a crime?”

“Yes, that’s a crime, too. If anyone tries to extort money from Emilie, naturally she’ll report it to the police. But once she tells the extortionists they don’t have her cat and she won’t pay them a dime, she won’t have any further contact with them.”

“And what happens to my cat if she tells them that?”

Gabe shrugged. “Whoever took him, if someone really did take him, will probably just let him go.” He grinned wryly. “It isn’t as though the kidnappers have to worry about your cat identifying them to the authorities. There’s no reason for them to hurt Crudley.”

“So they’ll dump him somewhere and I’ll never see him again and then everything will be fine. Is that right?” Cass challenged.

Gabe had no answer. Silence fell on the group until Emilie Crosswhite gradually emerged from the fog of thoughtfulness that had enveloped her. “I cannot believe,” she said, “that the Princess could have been kidnapped and the police would do nothing to save her.” She made a nervous fluttery gesture with one hand.

“That would be a completely different situation, Emilie,” Gabe hastened to assure her. “If the Princess had been taken, there would certainly be an investigation.”

Emilie looked from Gabe’s calm face to Cass’s bewildered one as though afraid she was the only one who didn’t understand. “I thought you said the police wouldn’t consider a cat stolen.”

“The Princess is a show cat, Emilie. She has monetary, not just sentimental value. The law recognizes that.”

“Oh.” Emilie relaxed slightly even as Cass stiffened with anger. “Oh!” Emilie repeated with new distress as the meaning of Gabe’s analysis sunk in. She glanced at Cass’s tight-lipped profile. “Oh, dear. That really isn’t fair at all.”

Gabe quirked up one corner of his mouth and raised his eyebrows as if to say, What else is new?

Cass shot an angry look at him. “I’m sure you believed it when you said money can’t buy everything, Mr. Preston. You forgot to add, though, that a lack of money buys even less.”

Cass rose to go, infuriated that none of the sacrifices she made ever seemed to be enough. Money remained the great unequalizer. The world was run by the rich, for the benefit of the rich. Only they could expect “fair” treatment. Only they had the kind of security she’d worked so desperately to create for herself.

Emilie Crosswhite laid a surprisingly firm hand on Cass’s knee, pressing her to stay seated. She thrust her small but determined chin forward. “Well, Gabriel,” she announced, “if the police won’t help this girl, we certainly must.”

Gabe fixed Emilie with a warning look. “Now, Emilie...”

“Now, Gabriel...”

“What is it you propose to do?”

“I don’t know yet. You’ll have to help me figure that out. But it must be something that brings Crudley home safe to Miss Appleton.” Emilie patted Cass’s knee to emphasize her comforting words.

“You can’t mean you want to cooperate with these alleged kidnappers?” Gabe said incredulously.

“If that’s what it takes.”

Gabe threw up his hands in disgust. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Emilie! Do you seriously believe Mark Gallagher will allow you to write a blank check to pay off some bungling extortionists who can’t even snatch the right cat?”

“He’s a wonderful advisor, but it’s my money,” Emilie insisted serenely. “I don’t see how he can stop me.”

“Emilie, you know very well—”

“Gabriel, I adore you but—”

“Excuse me,” Cass said, “but I already told you I didn’t want—”

The phone jangled loudly, arresting the verbal free-for-all. The three combatants stared at the white instrument perched on the wicker table as it rang again. Emilie Crosswhite and Gabe Preston moved toward it together until Emilie halted Gabe with an imperious look. She picked up the receiver and spoke calmly into it. “Yes, Mark?”

Emilie turned to smile at Cass, pointedly ignoring Gabe who stood, hulking over her, apparently trying to look menacing. “Put him through, dear,” she said. For the next few moments she concentrated on her conversation. “Yes...yes, I do... I see... Well, of course I do... No, no I wouldn’t do that... Is he, er, she all right?... Good, because if anything were to happen to him, uh, her, naturally I wouldn’t pay... Yes, I understand... Yes... Well, that’s quite a lot of money—not the sort of sum I have just lying about the house. I’ll need a few days to make arrangements to have it ready.... No, that would be quite impossible. I’ll need until Friday at least—Friday, that’s right... Very well.” Emilie hung up the phone and turned to her expectant audience.

Emilie still ignored Gabe and looked at Cass, breaking into a triumphant grin as she did. “They’re giving us until Friday. I told them I couldn’t possibly have the money before then. That gives us three whole days to come up with a plan.”

Gabe took a quick step to Emilie’s side. “What kind of plan?”

“The police may not be interested in our problem now,” she said haughtily, “but once we capture the catnappers and hand them over, I assure you the authorities will take us seriously.”

Cass could hardly fail to notice she seemed to have acquired a new ally. Neither could Gabe. “This has gone far enough, Emilie. Despite my advice, you’ve done all Miss Appleton claims she wanted you to. You’ve stalled the kidnappers. Now stay out of it.”

Emilie shook her head determinedly. “She was counting on the police to help her after I’d done my small part. But as you’ve so logically explained, they won’t I’ll have to, instead.”

Gabe stared into Emilie’s unwavering blue eyes. Sighing heavily, he ran his fingers through his sun-streaked hair. “Just how do you two amateur detectives propose to catch these crooks? Where are you going to begin your investigation?”

Emilie flicked a glance at Cass, who could only look back blankly. Her meeting with the society matron hadn’t gone quite as she’d hoped. She’d never planned on doing any investigating on her own. She’d expected to turn the whole mess over to the police. Suddenly left to her own devices, she hadn’t a clue what to do next. She shrugged and bit her lip. “We’ll think of something,” she said lamely.

Emilie Crosswhite was not so easily daunted. She looked Gabe square in the eye and smiled engagingly, as though they hadn’t been arguing ten seconds before. “You could help us,” she said sweetly.

“No.” The softness of the immediate response did nothing to lessen its forcefulness. Gabe picked up Emilie’s tiny fragile hand and held it tenderly in his own. “You know I can’t. And you know why.”

For a long moment the two of them looked at each other as though conducting a private conversation in complete silence. Emilie patted Gabe’s hand and smiled pensively. “I know, dear.” She turned back to Cass. “I suppose we’ll just have to pay the ransom.”

“What?” Gabe and Cass chorused with varying degrees of surprise.

“I don’t see any other choice,” Emilie said to Cass. “And it’s only ten thousand dollars,” she said to Gabe, adding with a meaningful lift of one eyebrow. “Hardly worth arguing about.”

“Ten thousand dollars?” Cass echoed. Unlike Emilie Crosswhite, she was horrified at the thought of spending so much money in a lump sum for anything. At the same time she was relieved that complying with the kidnappers’ demands would not be impossible, after all.

“Ten thousand dollars?” Gabe repeated in turn. “Are you sure that’s what they said?”

“Ten thousand dollars,” Emilie confirmed. “Since you won’t help us capture the kidnappers, we’ll just have to pay them off. I would have given them ten times that amount to secure Princess Athabasca’s return.”

“I know,” Gabe said. He frowned in confusion. “It’s almost as though whoever planned to take her doesn’t understand how much she’s really worth. I don’t like it.”

Cass stared at him in amazement. “I don’t believe you! A minute ago you were insisting Mrs. Crosswhite not pay anything, and now you’re insulted because they’ve asked for too little money!”

Gabe conceded the seeming oddness of his remark with a wry smile. “Not exactly. I am worried, though, that whoever stole your cat doesn’t have a better grasp of what its market value should be.”

“Worry all you like,” Cass replied in exasperation. “Personally I’m thrilled. If they’d demanded any more, I would never have been able to pay. As it is, by emptying my bank account and floating a small cash loan on my credit card, I can come up with the ransom.”

“Now, dear, you shouldn’t have to spend your life’s savings, even for such a worthy cause as rescuing your beloved pet. When I agreed to the kidnappers’ terms without consulting you, I made myself responsible for paying. I had no intention of forcing you to accept the financial burden.”

“That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Crosswhite. But I already explained I didn’t come here to ask for money. You’ve been very kind. Without your help I don’t know what I would have done. This isn’t how I expected to save my cat, but it doesn’t matter as long as he comes home safely.”

“Just a minute,” Gabe said, completely frustrated by the rapid turn of events. “You seem to have forgotten one or two minor details. Who is going to deliver the ransom money to the kidnappers? Where? When? These kinds of transactions don’t usually occur in broad daylight in public places. There is bound to be some danger to the person carrying the money.”

“He’s my cat. It’s my money. I’ll make the delivery,” Cass said shortly.

“And what if they want Emilie herself to be the courier?”

“Then I will be,” Emilie chimed in.

Cass threw an uneasy glance at the tiny woman. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Look, all these people want is the money. They don’t want trouble. Why are you looking for problems where there are none?”

Gabe sighed heavily. “The problems are there whether or not you choose to see them. I already told you, the relatively small ransom the thieves have demanded means something. The only possibilities I can think of aren’t good. Most likely, it means we’re dealing with amateurs who don’t understand the value of what they’ve stolen. As amateurs, they’ll be twice as dangerous as professional crooks. They’ll be nervous and unpredictable, easily frightened into doing something stupid that could hurt someone. They’ll make mistakes and, unfortunately, you could be the ones to suffer for it.”

The women silently thought over Gabe’s analysis. Cass shifted uneasily on the wicker sofa. “There could be other explanations for why they asked for that particular amount of money,” she said.

“Perhaps ten thousand dollars is all they need,” Emilie suggested.

Gabe smiled tolerantly. “Greed, not need, usually motivates a kidnapper, Emilie. Maybe this first demand is only a way to test the waters. Maybe when the kidnappers call back Friday they’ll ask for twice as much. Or ten times as much. Maybe this is a kind of training exercise for them. Maybe they plan to go into business kidnapping the pets of wealthy people and ransoming them back. It’s a lot safer than kidnapping people, and could be almost as lucrative if you pick the right victim.”

He spread his hands and lifted his palms to indicate the world of possibilities. “I don’t know. But that’s my point. None of us understand the kidnappers’ motives, beyond the obvious desire to acquire some of somebody else’s money. My concern—” he leveled a serious expression at Emilie Crosswhite “—is you, Emilie. I can’t let you endanger yourself. That would be completely irresponsible of me.”

Emilie gazed at him fondly for a few moments. “I know, dear,” she said. “But my mind is quite made up. I intend to help Miss Appleton recover Crudley. You’ll just have to find a way to keep all three of us out of danger.” Gabe shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward. Emilie leaned toward Cass and confided in a loud whisper, “That means he knows he’s lost the argument.”

“I heard that,” Gabe announced. “And contrary to your interpretation, all it really means is that I’m willing to call a temporary truce. I’m not making any commitments. You’re not making any commitments, Emilie. But Miss Appleton says she has the money. The kidnappers are supposed to call back Friday with further instructions. We’ll wait and see what they have to say.”

“That’s all we ask, dear,” Emilie assured him soberly while giving Cass a surreptitious wink.

As if on cue, a servant entered carrying a tray with three glasses of iced tea. The timing made Cass suspect the woman had been listening at the door, waiting for a break in the conversation. A second look at the woman’s elegant dress and regal bearing caused Cass to reconsider. She was hardly the type to eavesdrop. Her manner was deferential, but not the least bit servile. Tall and slender, she had the same smooth caramel complexion and piercing amber eyes of the gate guard. The two employees had to be related.

Tempting as the iced tea looked, Cass decided to take advantage of the natural break in events to leave. “Well,” she said, standing and ineffectually trying to smooth her wrinkled skirt, “I’ve taken enough of your time. I should be going. Despite Mr. Preston’s conviction that the police won’t be interested, I’d still like to stop by the station and make a report.”

“Suit yourself,” Gabe said with apparent indifference.

“I think that’s a fine idea,” Mrs. Crosswhite said. “And if you think it will help poor Crudley at all, be sure and tell the police that you’ve spoken to Gabriel and me and we’re willing to cooperate in every way.”

Gabe tensed at this suggestion and came dangerously close to scowling at his employer. “I’ll show Miss Appleton out,” he said curtly, striding to the door and waiting with obvious impatience as Cass thanked Emilie Crosswhite one final time.