Deception (5 page)

“What’s this?” Jill studied what looked like the passenger receipt for an airline ticket.

“I imagine that’s Mr. Bennett’s ticket to Miami. As

I recall, he wore that suit the day he flew there.”

Jill glanced at the receipt and frowned. “This ticket isn’t for Miami.” She looked up. “It’s for Washington, D.C.”

“It couldn’t be.” Henry took the ticket, looking confused. “I don’t understand. October 3 and 4 are the dates Mr. Bennett went to Miami. I’m sure of it. I took him to the airport myself.”

“Maybe he changed his plans at the last minute.” But why? Jill thought. As one of three architects in the country vying for the design bid on the new Miami aquarium, her father had been anxious to attend that meeting. Jill remembered his irritation when the commission was later given to a rival firm.

“Maybe your mother would know,” Henry suggested. “Or Cecilia at the office.”

“I’ll check with them in the morning.”

There had to be a simple explanation for this, Jill thought after Henry left. Her father flew to every part of the United States several times a year. Why was she getting herself all worked up over an unexplained trip? But after a while, her curiosity got the best of her Gambling that Cecilia, who rarely went to bed before eleven, was still up, Jill picked up a cordless phone on the coffee table and dialed the secretary’s number.

The phone rang twice.

Hello?”

Cecilia, it’s Jill.”

The voice at the other end was wide-awake, and gently scolding. “Jill, are you working late again?”

No, I’m at my mother’s house.” Aware that Cecilia was a confidential secretary in the true sense of the word, Jill hesitated, but only for an instant. She had questions that needed answers and Cecilia was the most reliable source she knew.

“Cecilia, do you remember that trip my father took on October 3 and 4?”

“Certainly.” There was no hesitation in the secretary’s voice, no indication that she was withholding anything. “He went to Miami to meet with Carl Jenner, who’s heading up the committee for the new aquarium.”

“Do you know if my father changed his plans at the last minute? I mean, could he have gone somewhere else instead?”

“Without telling me? I doubt that very much. You know what a stickler he was about leaving a complete itinerary.” Cecilia paused. “Why all these questions, Jill? What’s going on?”

“An airline stub was found in one of my father’s suits,” Jill said as she gazed at the receipt in her hand. “It’s in his name, for the right dates, but the destination is not Miami. It’s Washington, D.C.”

“That’s strange. He never told me about a change of plans.” Cecilia fell silent.

“Do you have any idea what he could have been doing in Washington? Who he went to see?”

“I don’t have a clue. Washington wasn’t one of his usual destinations. Maybe you should call Carl Jenner. He could tell you if your father went to Miami or not. I can give you his home number if you’d like.”

“I have it’ thank you.” Jill hung up, then flipped through the address book she’d found in her father’s desk, before dialing again.

On the first ring, a servant with a strong Spanish accent answered and put her through to Carl Jenner.

“Jill! How are you, my dear? I was terribly sorry to hear about your father. He’ll be greatly missed.”

“Thank you, Carl.”

“You know, I never had a chance to tell you how disappointed I was that we won’t be working together on the aquarium project. Even without your father at the helm, I feel certain Bennett & Associates would have done a terrific job.”

Jill stared at a crystal paperweight on her father’s desk. What an odd thing to say for a man who had turned down their bid.

“I was disappointed, too,” Jill said politely, “but the reason I called is that there seems to be some sort of mix-up with our travel agency regarding a bill. Could you verify exactly when my father came to Miami? The meeting with you was on October 3, wasn’t it?”

“Why, yes, it was.” His voice sounded strange,

puzzled. “But your father canceled that meeting. He called the day before and told me an emergency had come up and he wouldn’t be able to make it.”

I see,” Jill said. But she didn’t see. Not one bit. Fortunately, Carl didn’t seem to notice her confusion “At the time your father called, I felt confident I could reschedule the meeting and told him so.” Carl’s sigh was filled with regret. “Unfortunately, the committee insisted on making a decision right away.”

understand.” She understood nothing. Carl’s explanation was not at all the one her father had given her “I guess the travel agency must have made a mistake, after all.”

She hung up slowly and gently drummed her fingers on the desk. What Carl had just told her wasn’t making any sense. She remembered her father’s excitement when the committee chairman had called him in September to tell him B&A had been short-listed. He had even ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon and called the board into his office to celebrate.

What in the world could have happened between that jubilant day and October 3?

And just what emergency had her father kept so well hidden?

Four

“Place your bets, please.” The dealer’s sharp gaze swept over the roulette table as he picked up the steel ball and prepared to throw it.

Dressed in a beaded dark blue silk suit that skimmed her perfect figure, Olivia Bennett chewed on her bottom lip while considering her next bet.

Her decision to drive to Atlantic City after work had been made as she rode down the crowded elevator of the Vangram Building, wondering how to spend the evening. Stressed out as she was, a short visit to her favorite casino had seemed like the right antidote for a rotten day.

So far, the evening had been a total bust. She had been gambling for nearly two hours and her hopes of recovering her losses were quickly fading. Clearly, this was not her night.

As the dealer repeated his warning, Olivia counted ten chips, each worth fifty dollars, stacked them in a pile and pushed them slowly across the table, stopping on number fifteen black.

She had been fifteen when she lost her virginity. That ought to count for something.

“No more bets.” The dealer gave the wheel a snap of the wrist and threw the metal ball in the opposite direction.

The marker stopped on three red. Olivia closed her eyes and bit off a curse. Her losses to the casino for the month now amounted to a little over five thousand dollars.

She knew she should call it a night and be glad she hadn’t had to hock her car, as that poor woman next to her had done earlier. But in spite of her little pep talk’ the table beckoned, coaxing her to stay and to place one more bet, the one that would turn her luck around.

Glancing to the side, she searched for the pit boss she knew was never very far away. When she spotted him, she gave a slight nod. Hands behind his back, he came up beside her. Tonight, his thin, pinched features looked more hawklike than ever.

“What can I do for you, Miss Bennett?”

She gave him her most beguiling smile and hoped he wouldn’t notice how frantic she was to get back into the game. While the Golden Palace catered to heavy rollers, they insisted on prompt payment of all debts.

“I need another extension on my credit line, Charles.” She tried to keep the tremor from her voice. “A thousand should do it.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Miss Bennett. You’re already well over your limit-”

“I’m also one of your best customers, Charles.” Her tone sharpened. “Let’s not forget that.”

The pit boss, trained to handle hundreds of gamblers every day, remained unfazed. “I’m sorry, Miss Bennett. I have my orders.”

Olivia considered reminding him that her firm had designed the Golden Palace and that she was the one who had persuaded the editors of Architecture Magazine to put the hotel-casino on the front cover of their publication last year.

She did neither. She was already persona non grata in two other casinos. She couldn’t afford to alienate a third.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she thanked Charles and climbed off her stool. As she turned to leave, she stopped in her tracks. Pete Mulligan stood less than three feet away from her, one shoulder braced against a Grecian column. He was watching her with an amused expression, his keen eyes missing nothing.

In his late forties, the owner of Mulligan & Son had taken over his father’s construction business two years earlier but had yet to bid successfully on one of B&A’s designs. Shortly before Simon’s death, the two men had had strong words on that subject, with Mulligan accusing Simon of illegally manipulating the bids and Simon throwing the contractor out of his office.

Handsome in a rugged sort of way, the younger Mulligan had thick black hair, intense dark eyes and a cocky attitude that had irritated the hell out of Simon.

Mildly curious, she watched him detach himself from the column and walk toward her. “Miss Bennett. What a pleasant surprise.”

A small warning bell rang in Olivia’s head. If there was one thing she didn’t believe in, it was coincidences. “Good evening, Mr. Mulligan. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Everyone needs to unwind.” His glance slid casually toward the roulette table where the action had resumed without Olivia. “As a matter of fact, I was about to have one last drink before hitting the road,” he continued. “Like to join me?”

“I don’t think so.” Not wanting to appear rude—she was, after all, in the public relations business—she tempered her rejection with a smile. “I have a long drive ahead of me.”

“Oh, come on, a quick one. Club soda, of course, since you’re driving.” He leaned forward, his tone softer, almost caressing. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Her curiosity piqued, Olivia frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” Taking her elbow, the contractor escorted her to an out-of-the-way table in the nearby lounge where he ordered two club sodas.

“I see you like to gamble,” he said when they were settled. The thought seemed to please him.

Denying it would have been pointless. She was now certain that he had not only been watching her but had overheard her conversation with the pit boss, as well. “Occasionally.”

“Expensive habit.”

“My habits are nobody’s business,” she said sharply.

“True. I’m sorry.” But he didn’t look sorry. In fact, his amusement seemed to grow.

A waitress in a flouncy black skirt brought their drinks and quickly disappeared.

“To better luck at the tables,” Mulligan said, lightly touching his glass to Olivia’s.

Olivia sipped her club soda, wondering what he wanted with her. if he had orchestrated this “chance” meeting, as she suspected, what was his goal? What could he possibly want from her?

“So,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “Are you going to tell me what you meant when you said I wouldn’t regret having a drink with you?”

His smile was mysterious. “I was referring to a little favor we might do for each other.”

“Really.” More and more intrigued, she waited.

“I couldn’t help hearing your conversation with Charles a few minutes ago.”

“You know Charles?”

“Quite well.” He gave her that cocky smile again. “I, too, enjoy the tables every now and then.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice as if he was about to confide in her. “How much are you in for?”

Olivia bristled. No one, not even her mother, knew about her regular trips to Atlantic City, but she sensed that Mulligan, whose connections some claimed extended to the Mafia, knew exactly how much she was in for. “None of your damn business.” This time she didn’t bother to smile. She didn’t like people who snooped into her affairs.

The sharp reply didn’t appear to faze him one bit. “Didn’t you hear me? I want to help you.”

“You also mentioned a favor.”

“A small one.” Mulligan hitched his chair closer until their knees touched. Then, with hardly a change in expression, he pulled out an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Here you are, Olivia, the end of all your problems. Ten grand. Five to get the people upstairs off your back and another five to have a little fun.”

She didn’t miss the subtle switch from “Miss Bennett” to “Olivia,” as if they were already accomplices in some secret scheme.

chewing on her bottom lip, she looked at the envelope but didn’t touch it. There were a million reasons why she shouldn’t take money from a slug like Mulligan—all of them valid. On the other hand, the manager of the Golden Palace had warned her that, if she didn’t settle her account by week’s end, he’d turn the matter over to a collection agency.

But she was too smart not to know that such generosity came at a high price. “What do you want from me in return?”

Mulligan leaned back. “I understand B&A was recently commissioned to design a six-story department store in Lower Manhattan.”

“That’s right.”

“And your father is taking bids from various contractors.”

Now she understood what he wanted, and the thought sent a cold shiver down her spine. But if there was one thing she had learned working in PR, it was the art of remaining cool. “So?”

“I want to know what the low bid is.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

“You haven’t heard the rest of my terms yet.”

Olivia studied Mulligan’s dark, hooded eyes. What he was asking was out of the question. It was much too risky. Almost sadly, she glanced at the bulging envelope. “The answer is still no.”

“You’re making a mistake, Olivia. You see, the ten thousand is just an incentive. If I get the job, which I expect to do with your help, I’ll give you ten percent of my profits.”

Olivia did some quick math. The hotel construction job was expected to bid for five million dollars, and would earn the contractor a fifth of that. Ten percent of a million was a hundred thousand dollars.

“It gets better,” Mulligan continued. “With every job I get from B&A through you, I’ll keep paying you the same fee.” His glance wandered toward the casino floor. “Just think what you can do with that kind of money.” His eyes gleamed as he waited for her answer. “What do you say, Olivia? You’re interested?”