Amanda pointed. “I'll catch MARTA there. Oh, and can I get my cell back from you?”
His head swiveled. One eyebrow arched as if he didn't believe his ears.
He was used to having taxis or limos waiting wherever he went. He probably didn’t know anyone who actually used public transport.
“Don't worry,” she said. “MARTA goes to Lenox, not far from my shop.”
A second eyebrow joined the first. “I'm not worried, sugah. Why should I be worried?”
She didn't trust the way he strung out his words. When he drawled that way and got that mocking expression on his face, he was saying something she didn’t want to hear.
Careful, careful. Let him know you're still willing to help.
“If Noelle gets in touch with me, I'll let you know right away.”
He scanned the crowd. Waving one hand in the air, he caught her wrist with the other.
A large car, glistening with rain, pulled up and stopped.
“Climb right in here, sugar.”
Before she could protest, he had forced her into the cushioned leather interior. When he slid in behind her, she knew without asking that there was no going back to her shop. Not today.
“Sorry, Scarlet.” The old indifference was back, but distant as though an afterthought. “We have to go to Fair Meadows. Then, well, we'll see.” A determined jaw jutted. “One thing's for sure. You won't be going anywhere without me.”
Despair surged. “That's unfair. My shop is my livelihood.”
“Sorry.”
“I don't want to go to Fair Meadows.” She covered her face with both hands. “There's no need. I'll tell you if I hear from Noelle. I promise. Oh, please.”
Entreaties and arguments failed to move him. “I don't know what you're upset about. Haven't you noticed I can be a very interesting companion? I've been told that my conversation is scintillating.”
“Are you sure the word wasn't sibilating?” The gibe slipped out. “Sibilating as in snake in the grass?”
“I am sure it wasn't simulating,” he retorted, “as in sham and swindle.”
She looked away.
He waited for a reaction. “What's wrong? Does the shoe fit too well?”
When no answer came, he gave a short burst of laughter that held no true mirth. She was glad when he settled his long body in the seat, leaned his head back against the headrest, and, to all intents and purposes, fell fast asleep.
* * * *
At Fair Meadows, the car stopped on the circular drive before the wide veranda. Callaway helped Amanda out. “Don't pout. Didn't your mother ever warn you your face will freeze in that position?”
She snatched her arm away. “I'm not pouting.”
A grin softened his features. “Looked like it to me. Behave yourself if you want to go home today.”
He had reached the top of the steps before she took in his words.
Home.
Did he mean it? She rushed to follow him through the columned veranda into the house.
From the speed with which Claire appeared, she had been expecting them. Over gray slacks, an oversized white top with long tails fluttered ghostlike. “Oh, thank God—” On seeing Amanda, she froze.
Callaway’s sister had aged ten years and lost ten pounds since Sunday. The shirt was cut big but the fitted slacks hung, far too baggy.
Shocked, Amanda put out a hand without thinking. “Are you all right?”
Callaway stepped between them. “She would be if we could find your frigging sister.”
As though he blamed Amanda.
And she was to blame.
Claire gasped. “Cal, there's no need to be rude. I'm fine, Jane.” She looked back at her brother. “Tip's lying down in his room. The shock of Sonny on top of everything else has upset him. Will you talk to him?”
Amanda didn't miss their silent communication. Her guess was right. The mysterious diary had to concern Claire.
“Is Robert here?” Cal asked.
Claire seemed to withdraw. “No, he had to meet the auditors in Roswell.”
“Thank God for small favors. Let's go see Tip.” Callaway put his arm around his sister's waist as they walked out. “It'll be all right.”
Amanda watched them go. What she wouldn’t give to have someone put his arm around her and tell her everything would be all right.
Mocking her daydreams, Cal's athletic form spun at the bottom of the stairs. Without releasing Claire, he pointed at Amanda. “You wait here.”
For all the world like he was talking to a lap dog.
Amanda looked for a chair. “I'm not going anywhere.”
“You'd better not be.”
As he and his sister disappeared, a large yellow cat strolled out and inspected Amanda. She recognized it from the wedding, but it wore a malevolent glare today, eerily reminiscent of one of its family members.
“Nice to see you again, too.”
Amanda's sarcasm was ignored. The cat sidled toward her chair until, without warning, it jumped onto her lap where it turned round and round, then curled into a ball.
“Well.” Taken aback, Amanda scratched its ears. “Make yourself at home, cat.” At least this particular animal didn't treat her as though she were beneath contempt.
* * * *
“State reports aren't back, but preliminaries indicate Sonny died between ten and four.” The bedspread on the rice poster bed was turned down, and Cal's stepfather, fully dressed, lay on the sheets. Heavy blue draperies were drawn and lamps were lit to dispel the dreary day. “The sheriff and I used to hunt quail together,” Tip explained his knowledge.
“Could it have been accidental?” Cal asked.
“With one of the bullets straight through the heart?” Tip looked at him over his glasses. “The lab tests aren't back, but no, it wasn't accidental.”
Cal thought about who might want Sonny dead and didn't like the list of names.
“The thing is,” Tip went on, his aged forehead wrinkling, “anyone could have done it.”
Cal was wary. “An intruder, you mean?”
“Any one of us.” Tip voiced Cal's concern. “We were all here, off and on, during the crucial hours.”
“Matthew Swift,” Cal said out loud. “Does he have an alibi?”
“No,” Tip said as Claire simultaneously said, “Matt wouldn't have done it.”
Cal ignored Claire. “Sonny was blackmailing Matthew, too.”
Tip nodded. “Matt told me. He intended to pay.”
Claire was stubborn. “Matt would never have shot Sonny.”
“Claire.” Sudden comprehension jolted him. “Don’t tell me… Are you still in love with that man?”
“Oh, Cal.” Claire's face contorted, dissolved. “Why must I be in love with a man to know whether or not he's capable of murder? Matt would either have paid the money or not. He would never harm anyone.”
Cal stared, aghast at this unexpected shortcoming in his sister.
Claire paced. “I know Matt.” She turned back. “Besides, no one here has an alibi except you.”
As Tip nodded agreement, Claire rushed on, “I was here. Tip was here. Robert was here. We didn't keep tabs on each other, and most of the help were off after the wedding so they can't confirm our whereabouts. Stop trying to blame Matt. We had as much opportunity as he did.”
“Ahem,” Tip intervened. “I take it we agree Sonny was the actual blackmailer. Was he also the thief?”
“There's no one else, is there?” Cal couldn’t think straight. Claire, irreproachable, exemplary Claire, of all people, in love with a man not her husband. Johanna's birth could be forgiven, chalked up to youth and an older man's seduction, but for her to still care for the man was incomprehensible.
Stick to the problem at hand
. “I expect Sonny saw Robert open a safe, or maybe Robert gave him the combination. Robert trusts—trusted him implicitly. We all did.”
Tip raised the important point. “But in that case, what happened to Lila's journal? It wasn't in Sonny's things.”
“That's something else, Cal.” Claire sounded as despondent as Cal felt. “Tip searched Sonny's room and luggage before the authorities got to them.”
“It seemed best,” Tip apologized.
“Good thinking,” Cal said. “No journal, though?”
“No. But in his suitcase, I found a folder with ten bearer bonds. For fifty thousand dollars apiece.”
Cal swung to look at Claire but she was shaking her head. “No, I never had a chance to give mine to him. And neither did Matt. Tip asked him.”
“Five hundred thousand dollars. Where did they come from?” Then he knew. “That's got to be money for my studs.”
Tip nodded. “That seems logical. I thought it best to take the bonds. Ahem. I saw no need…”
“Of course.” Cal waved away his stepfather's admission to breaking the law. “Sonny got cheated. The stones by themselves were worth a helluva lot more than that.” The others were silent as he chewed at his lip. “We may have to tell.”
“No.” Claire wet her chapped lips. “Johanna would die. Matt's life would be ruined, too.”
“Better to face it. It depends on who bought my studs, whether the same person who connived with Sonny was the one who has them, and if he’s the one who's got the journal. Was Miles here yesterday?”
“No.” Claire followed his train of thought. “Tip and I thought of him, too. He and Sonny went off together at the reception, Cal. He could have given Sonny the money then.”
“Had to be him. Damn his eyes,” Cal muttered. He'd known Miles all his life. Miles had helped replace the father he barely remembered.
“Can bearer bonds be traced?” Tip asked.
“It depends,” Cal said. “That still doesn't solve our problem, does it? Where's the journal?”
Claire sighed and stared out the window.
Cal sat down on the edge of the bed, clasped one knee, and rocked back and forth. “We need to talk to Matthew. He may have got it from Sonny and didn't tell Tip.” He cut short Claire's beginning denials. “Before the murder, Claire. He may have paid Sonny for it before the murder.”
Claire face brightened. “Do you think so?”
Best to evade what he thought. “We'll soon know.”
But Noelle seemed the logical person to have the journal
He'd have to find her. One way or another.
A patient Amanda sat where he'd left her, encumbered by Johanna's cat sprawled over her lap as she thumbed through a magazine. They made quite a domestic tableau.
He refused to be taken in. “Snick sheds like crazy. I wouldn't let him sleep on me.”
“Neither would I if I had a choice.”
“I have to go see a neighbor. You stay here. If you leave, you'll be sorry.”
She plopped the magazine on the table beside her. The sleeping cat didn't budge. “Stop threatening me. You're beginning to bluster and I'm getting tired of being told I'm going to jail.”
He grinned. In spite of his attempts to keep his distance, he was warming to Amanda Jane. “All right. Stay put and we'll get you home tonight.”
Her eyes flew wide open. “Do you mean it?” Her knee jostled the cat, evoking an admonitory meow.
He held up two fingers. “Scout's honor.”
“Hah. You were never a Boy Scout in your life.”
“Yes, ma'am, I was. Damn near made an Eagle.” Honesty made him admit, “Except I discovered girls.”
His mother hadn't approved of him quitting Scouts. She hadn't approved of his interest in the giggly girl who worked at the coffeehouse, either.
The cat in Amanda's lap flopped over onto its back and claimed her attention, but her lips twitched. “And they took up all your time from then on, I'm sure.”
“Can't pull the wool over your eyes, can I? I'll be back soon.” The image of her with the cat, in the aquamarine dress with her brown hair pulled severely back, followed him.
Fluffy blondes or dramatic brunettes or dazzling redheads were his thing. Particularly dazzling redheads. He had never looked twice at a woman with nothing to her credit but a pair of cool gray eyes and a smile that could light up the world.
Damn her. Under Amanda's influence, all kinds of crazy ideas were taking root in his head. Ideas like tackling responsibilities and doing something with his life. Ideas that hadn't crossed his mind in years, since his mother and Robert had tacitly decreed he was incapable of being entrusted with the most menial task for the company and had assigned him to his current irrelevant position.
What was Amanda Jane doing to him?
Chapter Thirteen
Cal's visit did not surprise Senator Matthew Swift. Cal suspected very little would.
“I told Tip that Sonny approached me.” Matthew poured a shot of bourbon for Callaway and another for himself into glasses before adding splashes of water. “He gave me until yesterday morning to raise half a million dollars.”
Cal drained his drink and set the emptied glass down beside a vase containing fragrant jonquils and iris the same color lavender as the delicate tracing on the porcelain. “Did you pay him?”
“I couldn't raise that much money by then.” Matthew sat opposite Cal, the piecrust table a barricade between them.