CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (13 page)

            “When was the last time those knives were used?” Skip asked.

            “Oh, gosh,” Bonnie said, “must have been last August, when we had a big cookout.”

            “Was that before you and Lansing broke up?” Skip asked Cherise.

            “Actually
when
we broke up. We had a fight after the guests left. I don’t even remember what it was about, but we’d been fighting a lot lately and I’d had enough. Told him to get out and not come back.”

            Skip turned back to the housekeeper. “Were all the knives there when you cleaned up afterwards?”

            Bonnie thought for a moment. “Some of them were still on the buffet. Hadn’t been used. I put them back in the case myself, but we had extra help on that night. I think one of them cleaned the used ones and put them away. I seem to recall that I’ve been into that knife case since then, though. I can’t put my finger on when it was.” She was drumming plump fingertips against her lips. “Wait. It was when Mr. Thompson was here, couple of months ago. I served pork chops ’cause I remembered they were his favorite.”

            “Thompson?” Skip said. “He’s another ex, isn’t he?”

            “Yeah,” Cherise answered. “He showed up one afternoon. Gotten himself kicked out of his penthouse in New York for wild partying. Wanted to stay here for awhile, but I only let him stay one night, in the guest room.”

            “Gotta be some extraordinarily wild parties to get evicted in New York, I would think,” Skip said.

            “Yeah, Kirk’s as wild as they come. That’s why we broke up. He was getting more and more into drugs, and that is
not
my scene.”

            “Were there any knives missing when you opened the case then?” Skip asked Bonnie.

            She thought for a moment. “I couldn’t say for sure, Mr. Canfield,” she finally answered. “Normally I’d notice, but I was in a hurry to set the table that night. Changing the menu at the last minute had thrown me off schedule. I might not have noticed if there was an empty slot when I took two out to put on the table.”

            “Were there two on the table when you cleared it?”

            “I don’t rightly recall. It was late. I think I left the silverware out on the counter to be polished the next day.”

            “How about when you put the knives away? Were they all there?”

            “I don’t remember putting them away. Was that a Thursday, Ms. Martin? The day after Mr. Thompson was here.”

            Cherise thought for a moment. “I believe it was.”

            “That’s the day I have a girl come in to help with the weekly cleaning. I might very well have had Jane polish the silver and put it away.”

            “So Jane comes tomorrow? Ask her for me, please, Bonnie.”

            “Okay, but she’s a little dim. She might not remember.”

            Skip turned to Cherise. “Did Thompson leave without a fuss the next day?”

            “More or less. He tried to manipulate me into letting him stay longer, but he left eventually, when I kept saying no. I never did let him stay here more than a night at a time. Last thing I need is to have this place raided by the police, because he’s brought drugs onto the property.”

            “Thanks for your help, Bonnie,” Skip said.

            After the housekeeper had left the room, he continued, “So either Thompson or Lansing could have taken the knife, but since we know Lansing sent the bracelet, my vote is with him. It’s time to press charges, Cherise.” She started to interrupt him but he put up his hand. “Hear me out. I know you’re worried about copycats, but the crazies can get plenty of ideas just from watching TV. And if we get his sorry ass thrown in jail, that may be a deterrent for anyone else who might otherwise decide to get cute with you. These jerks will know you don’t mess around. You get somebody to chase them down and lock them up.”

            “Okay, that makes sense, Skip. But I’ve got to run it past my agent first.”

            “You do that. Call her right now. While I bag up the knife case.”

            By the time Skip had finished wrestling the case into the bags without getting his own prints on it, Cherise had her agent on the phone in the living room.

            When Skip came into the room, Cherise was pacing back and forth. “Jannie, it’s the only way to get him to stop. I can’t go on like this!”

            Skip made a gimme gesture with his fingers. Cherise ignored him. “What about the saying, all publicity is good publicity?” she said into the phone.

            “Okay, you talk to Jim about it, but then get right back to me.”

            “Give me the phone, Cherise,” Skip said, in a tone that implied he would take it from her if she didn’t comply.

            “Hang on for a minute, Jannie.” She put the phone against her chest to cover the mouthpiece. “Why do you want to talk to her?”

            Skip just held out his hand and took a step toward her. She hesitated, then handed him the phone.

            “Ms. Welsh, this is Skip Canfield. As Ms. Martin’s security advisor, I’m strongly advising her to press charges against this guy. The only way to stop these bozos is to come down on them and come down hard, and the more public the better, to discourage copycats.”

            Skip listened for a moment. “Yes, ma’am, I do understand the concept of image management. And normally I’m a patient man. But in this case, my family is being hounded by the press, and I do not take kindly to people messin’ with my family.”

            He listened for another ten seconds, then interrupted. “Ms. Welsh, I understand all of that, but you need to understand this. If Cherise does not press charges, I will go public with the whole sorry mess. Because this will explain why I’ve been in Cherise’s company recently, as well.”

            Skip paused, listening, then said, “No, ma’am, that is not my only reason for wanting to do this, but it’s a damn fine one, in my opinion. I do believe, however, that it’s the best course of action for Cherise as well. We lock this guy up and we can all get on with our lives.”

            Another few seconds of listening. “No, ma’am, I am
not
willing to wait while you talk to her publicist and your lawyers. I’ve already waited two days. I want the paparazzi off my front lawn, this afternoon.”

            He thrust the phone at Cherise. “Tell her you’re pressing charges or I schedule a press conference.”

            “Jannie, he means it, and there’s nothing we can do to stop him from going public. So we might as well do it on our terms. I’m pressing charges.” Cherise disconnected while her agent was still spluttering in her ear.

            “You see what I’ve gotta deal with, Skip. These people try to run my life.”

            “Thank you, Cherise,” Skip said, heaving a sigh of relief.

            “You’re welcome. Now how about keeping me company over lunch and then you can walk me through the process of pressing charges.”

* * *

            Little did Skip know, the paparazzi were not currently in front of his house, since no one was home. Instead a few of the more persistent of them had followed Kate and Ben, at a careful distance, first to her office that morning, and then at lunchtime to Mac’s Place.

            Two of the fools had the audacity to put their faces up to the big plate glass window in the front of the restaurant. Rob and Kate, ensconced in their favorite booth along the back wall, did not notice. But Ben, sitting at the bar eating his own lunch, did. He glared at them and they scurried away.

            None of the occupants of the restaurant paid any attention, however, to the tall, thin man with a thick head of dark hair, sprinkled with some gray, who came through the door a few minutes later and took a booth near the front. After ordering some food, he followed the sign indicating the restrooms were in the back hall behind the dining area. He walked past their booth just as Rob patted Kate’s hand to reassure her that this too shall pass.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

            A little before eleven on Thursday morning, Skip’s phone rang on his desk. He tried not to growl when he answered it.

            “Mr. Canfield, it’s Bonnie Samuels, Ms. Martin’s housekeeper.”

            “Good morning, Bonnie.”

            “Good morning, sir. I asked Jane about the knives and she has no clue what I’m talking about.”

            Skip sighed. It would have been nice to narrow down which of Cherise’s exes had taken the knife. “Well, thanks for asking her, Bonnie.”

            “Have a good day, sir.”

            “You, t...” Skip’s voice trailed off as Rose entered his office, her face grim, again with sheets of paper under her arm. Skip hung up the phone, his teeth clenched.

            “Skip...” Rose faltered. She had no idea what to say to him. After a beat, she just handed him the papers.

            The top one was a picture of Kate and Rob sitting in a booth at Mac’s Place. It looked as if they were holding hands. The caption
read Is the Wife Having a Pay-back Affair with Her Lawyer?

            The second page was a picture of Rob and Kate hugging next to Kate’s Prius, Ben standing nearby. Skip didn’t get to the article on the third page.

            He roared, shoving his chair back. “What the fuck!” Jumping to his feet, he turned and punched the wall behind his desk, leaving a sizeable dent in the drywall. Rose winced, but he didn’t. Adrenaline masked the pain in his knuckles.

            Skip’s eyes skittered around the room, looking for another outlet for his rage. He picked up his coffee cup and hauled back to throw it.

            “Stop, Skip!” Rose yelled, as footsteps pounded down the hall toward the office. Mac and Dolph collided in the doorway, then froze, temporarily immobilized by the sight of their boss on a rampage.

            The big man stopped. He very carefully put the mug back down on his desk, then sank into his chair. He covered his face with his big hands. A strangled noise escaped from his throat.

            “You know it’s not true, Skip,” Rose said. Skip just nodded his head, his face still covered by his hands.

            Dolph made shooing motions at the other two.

            Rose gathered up the sheets of paper from Skip’s desk and handed them to the older man. She and Mac left, closing the door behind them. Dolph sat down in Skip’s visitor’s chair. He perused the pages while he waited for the younger man to get himself settled down. After a moment, they heard Mac’s roar from down the hall. Rose had apparently filled him in on the content of the pictures and article.

            As he got to the end of the article, Dolph muttered, “Son of a bitch.” In a conversational tone, he said, “I vote we find this reporter, strap him to a chair, and pull his fingernails out, one at a time.”

            Skip let out a bark of harsh laughter. “Where’s his paper’s office?” he asked.

            “I was jokin’, son.”

            “I know, Dolph, but thanks for the great mental image.”

            “What are you going to do?”

            “First, I’m going to call my wife. No check that. I can’t tell her this and upset her when she has clients to deal with. I’ll call Ben and fill him in.
Then
I’m going to call Cherise.”

            “Why don’t you let me call the client, son? You’re still a bit riled up. You might want to catch up with Rob. See what he thinks we should do?”

            Skip nodded.

            As Dolph opened the office door, Mac pushed past him, Rose tugging on his arm to try to slow him down. “That son of a bitch! How dare he take pictures of
my
friends in
my
restaurant. Where’s the article? I wanna know that guy’s name. I’m gonna tear him a new one.”

            “Calm down, Mac. Dolph and I already indulged in that fantasy,” Skip said. “But violence isn’t the answer, as tempting as it is. It would just pour fuel on the fire.”

            “Not to mention the little matter of jail time for assault and battery,” Rose pointed out, as Skip dialed Ben and filled him in.

            “I’ll take care of her. Sorry I let you down, man,” Ben said.

            “Not your fault. Just try to keep them away from her until I can talk to her.”

            Hanging up the phone, Skip said to Mac, “Where are Maria and the kids?”

            “Maria and Billy are home. Edie’s at her preschool. I was goin’ over later with Maria to pick her up.”

            “Go pick Edie up now and stay at the house with them. I wouldn’t put it past these bozos to try to pump the kids for info about their Uncle Rob.”

            Mac hesitated. “I know you want to be doing something more... combative,” Skip said. “But you’re the only one I trust with my kids.”

            Mac nodded. There was no arguing with that.

            “I’ll call the school and tell them you’re coming. Code word’s ‘Daddy’s little girl.’ Or should I say code phrase.”

            Mac looked confused.

            “Abuse prevention. Had to take a training when I was a cop,” Rose said. “Teach the kid to never go with anybody but their parents, even if they know the person, unless the person gives them the code word or phrase.”

            Mac nodded and left. Rose sank into Skip’s visitor chair while he called Edie’s school. Then he dialed Rob’s office number.

            He had trouble getting through. Apparently the paparazzi had already descended on the law firm and the receptionist had been given strict instructions. “Mr. Franklin is not available, sir. Mr. Bennett’s office is taking his calls temporarily.”

            “But... Damn, she’s already transferring me to Rob’s partner,” Skip told Rose.

            A strange woman picked up. “Could I speak to Mr. Franklin’s assistant, Fran, please?” Skip asked her.

            “I am screening all of Mr. Franklin’s calls, sir. May I ask which of his cases this is in reference to?”