Heather reached for the phone next to her seat as her twin engine jet raced across clear skies. Her thoughts alternated between the time she'd spent with her father and anticipation of seeing Jack again. In the seat facing her sat the new straw hat she’d purchased on the cruise. She looked at it and thought it should be Jack in the seat instead of a wide-brimmed hat.
The phone call to Jack was long and sweet. He counted the trial to be a partial success in that he worked out an eleventh-hour plea bargain with the district attorney, and the judge accepted the recommendation of a five-year probation. They both lamented that the decision didn't come until Heather and her father had been at sea for fourteen hours.
They agreed that Jack would pick her up at Conroe's airport and she'd go to his house, where he'd cook her a bunless hamburger. Then, he'd take her home in time to get a decent night's sleep. At least that was the plan.
Her plane was well over the Gulf of Mexico when she called Steve. He answered with a cheery, "Hello, stranger. Bella baked six dozen cookies since you've been gone and I ate every one of them."
Heather replied with, "They had an upscale watch store on board. You'll love the Fitness-Pro I got you. It sounds an alarm every time you think of cookies. Once you put it on, it's impossible to take it off."
Steve chuckled. "Now that we've both told our lies, how was the trip?"
"We got our crying over Mother's death out of the way the first night. After that, it was clear sailing. The captain made sure we had full access to the ship and the crew. He wined and dined us in style. The rooms were amazing, but a suite can seem empty if that certain someone isn't with you."
"It's a shame Jack and the D.A. didn't reach a deal earlier. Did he tell you we went out for pizza the night the trial was supposed to begin?"
Heather couldn't help but smile. "Yes. He said it didn't matter how pretty Bella was, he would never want a woman who could pack away pizza the way she does. What did you and Bella do besides stuff yourselves with pizza and cookies?"
"I reconsidered searching for the bottle of wine. With online ordering, it seemed too big of a haystack to search in without narrowing the suspects first. Including staff, we'd be showing photos of about twenty-five people to shop owners. Instead, I showed Bella how to look for work permits pulled on the Green and Webber homes in the last forty years."
Heather sat up in her seat. "Good thinking. What did they reveal?"
The phone went quiet for a while, but she could hear Max's insistent meows and Steve's muffled voice. Steve came back on. "Sorry about that. Max was telling me it's time for his mid-morning snack. Where was I?"
"Pulling work orders."
"Oh yeah. It's what I expected. The Webbers have done no serious renovations in the last twelve years. We found the names of some plumbers, electricians, and small job contractors that worked with them. They all said getting money out of Ingrid was like squeezing wine out of a raisin."
"And the Greens?" asked Heather.
"They pay in full and on time. They also have a new roof and the old pool in the back yard was dug up and replaced seven years ago. What's interesting is that the Webber house has almost twice the square footage as the Green house with fewer people living there full time."
Heather looked out the window at an approaching cloud bank in the distance. She tucked Steve's comments away in her memory and continued with another question. "Has Leo given you any helpful information?"
"He's having to tip-toe around Ayana and all the brass that's breathing down his neck. The Greens’ lawyer is like a guard dog, making sure the interviews are just enough for Leo not to demand depositions. They're lacking in substance, especially with Howard Green's peccadilloes."
Heather switched the phone to her other ear. "I'll call Sylvia Lopez and see if she can shed light on who Howard’s latest love is." She paused to consider what she said. "If he's smart, he's lying low until all this blows over."
"If he was that smart, he wouldn't have a girlfriend, or a line of former girlfriends, while he’s married. Ayana worked some sort of computer magic and cross-referenced Howard's old credit card receipts. It was enough for her and Leo to pound the pavement and get names for two of Howard's former girlfriends. Both cooperated, but nothing valuable came out of the interviews. Leo still can’t connect Howard to his wife's death."
Steve had to sneeze. After blowing his nose, he said, “The mold count must be off the charts. It's been raining here like Noah may make a return visit."
"That explains the cloud bank we're about to fly over. How's Bella's broken heart?"
"She'll live to love again. She spent more time researching the Webber lad with the deep dimples than anyone else. I'm pretty sure she knows what size shoe he wears and what type of pizza he prefers."
Heather groaned. "Great! Just what she needs. What's the scoop on him? Isn't his name Adam Webber?"
"It is. He’s out of college, where he made top grades in business and finance. No criminal history. It seems the last generation of Webbers is fairly normal."
Heather took in a deep breath. "Well, that’s something. Give me your overall view of how the case is progressing."
Steve cleared his throat. "We're boxed in on all sides. We can't talk to any of the Greens or the Webbers. Leo is being watched like a known shoplifter in a jewelry store. He now has two of the big bosses telling him how to run the investigation, so he's getting nowhere fast."
"Is there anything we can do?"
"Like I told Bella, if you looked plain and wore a terrific disguise that made you look like a homely housekeeper, you could get your buddy Mrs. Dubois to place you in the Greens’ home as a maid. What we really need is someone on the inside."
"Wigs make my head itch. As for disguises, Sherlock Holmes might pull it off, but Howard Green and Ingrid Webber both know what I look and sound like. You'll have to come up with a better idea."
"Nothing's coming to mind," said Steve with a sigh. "Let's have breakfast in the morning and talk more about it."
Heather nodded in agreement, even though no one could see her. "Bella has a young, agile mind. Perhaps she can come up with some ideas."
The pilot pulled back the curtain separating the flight deck from the five leather seats in the main cabin. "You'd better buckle up tight, Ms. McBlythe. It's going to be bumpy from here on out."
"Thanks for the warning.”
Heather lifted the phone to her ear again. “Bad weather ahead, Steve. I'd better go."
"Make it a late breakfast," said Steve. "I keep forgetting I have to share you with Jack. You two will need to talk about the cruise and his trial that turned out not to be a trial. Conversations like that can last into the wee hours of the morning."
Heather smiled. "A late breakfast sounds better, especially after a rainy night."
* * *
It was almost nine the next morning when Heather pushed back the covers, but only after Max let out a loud meow. She assumed it was his way of telling her she'd overslept by four hours. She reached and gave his wide head a thorough scratch, which seemed to placate him. Taking time to brush her teeth and throw her hair up in a messy bun, she hustled next door, hoping she wasn't too late for breakfast.
Instead of smelling bacon, ham, or the sage-rich sausage Steve liked so much, his condo was void of any odor except coffee. She made a path to the coffee maker and poured herself a full mug.
"Where's your roommate?" asked Steve.
Heather spoke through a yawn. "What do you mean? I thought Bella would be here cooking breakfast for us."
"Haven't heard her all morning."
"Is she out running?"
"In the rain?"
"She might have gone to the gym," said Heather, although that seemed out of character for the girl who loved the outdoors. "When did you last talk to her?"
Steve closed the top to his computer. "We had supper together last night, then she said she had things to do and left about eight-thirty. I heard her puttering around in her room until ten-thirty or eleven. I haven't seen or heard her since then."
"Not even this morning?"
"I would have heard her if she was stirring, unless she got up and out when I was in the shower."
Heather took her coffee cup with her as she headed for the door. "I’ll go check. I hope she's not sick."
The holler of Bella’s name after Heather opened her front door brought no response. Her pace picked up as she passed the dining room and kitchen and found nothing disturbed. She bolted to Bella's room, only to find the door open. She'd missed this in her rush to breakfast next door. An envelope leaned against a pillow on the neatly made bed. Ripping it open, Heather read once for speed and the second time to catch all the words.
Dear Heather and Steve,
I hope you don’t get too mad at me, but the pace of the investigation was driving me nuts. Steve, you were awesome at teaching me stuff, but I can tell you both need help. You said you needed someone on the inside if the case was to be solved, so I took action. (That's something else you both taught me.)
While Heather was on her cruise, I submitted an application with Mrs. Dubois and completed a phone interview. I used you as a reference and told her I worked well with older, cranky women. (I didn't use the word cranky, but she must have understood what I was saying.)
I start this morning working for Mrs. Ingrid Webber. Mrs. Dubois doesn’t know that I understand German and can speak it fairly well. My plan is not to tell Mrs. Webber either. Hopefully she'll let her guard down and I'll find out all kinds of juicy things to help you solve the case. Everyone who doesn't know me expects me to be a dumb blond. That's what I'll be to Frau Webber.
Mrs. Dubois told me I can't have my phone during working hours, which is pretty much any time Frau Webber is awake. I'll relay what I've learned every night by text messages or emails. There are no days off until I've worked there four weeks.
Give Steve a hug for me and tell him not to worry. I've been in the ocean with every flesh-eating creature you can imagine. An old German lady doesn't scare me one bit.
Heather took a deep breath, counted to ten, and let out a brief scream of frustration. "If Frau Webber doesn't kill her, I may." She held the letter in a death grip and hustled next door.
Steve had moved to his recliner where he sat with hands folded on his lap. "I heard the scream. Feel better?"
"She's gone," said Heather as if that were earth-shattering news.
Steve remained as still as a monk with no sins to confess.
Heather tried again. "Do you know what she's done?"
"I can make a good guess. She's gone to work for either the Greens or the Webbers. I'm guessing the Webbers."
"You knew? Why didn't you stop her?"
"I guess she left a note?" said Steve instead of answering her question.
Heather smoothed out the note and read it aloud, which fueled her rage and frustration at Bella’s impulsive decision. After pacing and spewing her intentions to drag the lass out of the Webber home by her thick rope of ultra-blond hair, Steve held up his hand for her to stop. "How old is Bella?"
"Twenty."
"That makes her an adult. Is she smart?"
"Of course, she is."
"I agree," said Steve. "She was smart enough to leave your condo this morning without either of us catching on to what she was doing. I only just now put the pieces together to what she's been planning to do even before you went on your cruise. We can trust anyone that crafty. She’ll gather at least some of the information we need. Besides, if Frau Ingrid follows true to form, she’ll fire Bella in two or three days."
"I can't believe you're allowing her to do this."
"If I thought she was in any real danger, I'd have Leo drag her out. But she'd never forgive me if I kept her from this chance to prove herself to both of us."
Steve motioned for her to have a seat on the couch. Once Heather settled on the couch and her mind slowed down, he continued, "Think about it. She'll be so sick of doing a stake out that involves non-stop cleaning and bowing to Frau Ingrid's every whim, she'll be ready to swim back to her parents’ hotel."
Heather’s tightly-strung emotions began to release their grip. "Is this what a parent feels like when a child grows up and makes a life of their own?"
"Probably. I’m the wrong person to ask."
"One more reason not to have children," said Heather.
"Look on the bright side," said Steve. "We can expect nightly reports from Bella. Things may get moving on this case."