Set Up (33 page)

In the Cancun air terminal, Amanda wandered into a shop where she browsed through the souvenirs. Soon she was holding up one tiny T-shirt after another.

Cal, seeing her safely distracted in buying shirts for her nephew, accosted Noelle. “Amanda's car exploded, Noelle. She's lucky she wasn't in it.”

“Her car exploded?” Noelle had taken a step away at Cal's approach but stopped at his words. Her surprise seemed genuine. “Why did it explode?”

“I thought you might know.”

“Me? How could I? I haven’t even seen her until she came down here. She didn’t say anything about it to me.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you.” Cal watched for a sign she was lying. “Someone tried to break into her shop, too. She could have been hurt, maybe killed.”

Noelle’s mouth gaped. “Her shop at Lenox? Who broke in? Why would anybody break in? Was it burglars?”

“I don’t know that, either. I was hoping you could help me. Did Sonny say anything to you about Amanda?”

“Sonny?” Noelle looked worried. “He’s dead. You think Sonny tried to... Why would he want to break into Amanda’s shop?”

To clean up his trail
.

Could Sonny have planted the bomb in Amanda’s car? Maybe. The night of the break-in, he was supposedly late getting in from Las Vegas.

But now Sonny was dead.

Noelle frowned. “I can’t think of anybody who’d want to hurt Amanda. She’s one of the nicest people I know.”

“Yes, she is,” Cal said slowly, “I can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt Amanda, either.”

“Oh, look at that bracelet. It’s so pretty.” Noelle espied a silver bauble in an adjoining shop and went to peer into the window. “I wish I had enough money to buy that,” she said wistfully. “Manda says I’m going to have to be frugal, though, now that Edward and I are divorced. It sure is pretty, though.”

He went to stand beside her. “If Amanda had died, I'd never have caught up to you and found out about Sonny. Are you sure Sonny never said anything about getting rid of Amanda?”

“If she’d died?” That surprised her again. “Get rid of Manda? Why would Sonny want to get rid of Manda?”

Her ignorance was too real to be faked. “Because Sonny may have thought Amanda was a liability.”

“A liability? What do you mean a liability?”

“Everyone thought Amanda took my diamonds. As long as she never said anything, no one would find out Sonny was the thief. If she was dead, she couldn’t lead anybody to him.”

Noelle looked uncertain. “So you think he...” A new expression came into the blue eyes, one of dawning comprehension. She looked away. “Sonny wouldn't do that.”

He pounced. “What is it, Noelle? What did Sonny say?”

“Nothing. Sonny wouldn't have hurt Amanda.” Tears welled up. “Amanda’s my sister. He wouldn’t have hurt her. He wouldn’t have. He knows…he knew I love Amanda.”

Callaway thought he had his answer.

Amanda had emerged from the T-shirt store in time to overhear the last of his conversation with Noelle, enough to understand the implications. He saw her momentary shock, admired her quick recovery. “Look at what I got for Teddy, Noelle. Isn't it cute?”

She chattered with her sister, but Callaway wanted to throttle Noelle.

When they finally got on the plane, the flight to Atlanta was crowded. Callaway had managed to get two tickets together, but the third one was separate. He used it himself because Amanda wanted to sit with Noelle.

As the plane took off, he tried again to figure out where the journal might be.

If he knew who'd killed Sonny, he might know who had the journal. While Claire had ruled out Matthew Swift, Cal remembered the senator’s face when he'd said he would do whatever necessary to protect Claire and Johanna. And Swift had seen someone at the pond. Matthew was hiding something, but Cal couldn't figure out what, unless Swift had recognized Tip and refused to admit it.

But Tip wasn't a murderer.

Then there was Miles.

Sonny might have tried to blackmail Miles. Or what if Miles had decided to recover the money he paid Sonny by killing him? Cal didn't think his former mentor was capable of shooting a man but now, certain Miles had commissioned the theft of the diamonds, Cal couldn’t discount him.

Miles’s alibi for Sonny’s death. One more thing to look into.

Claire, Tip, and Matthew Swift were obvious suspects because of the journal, and Miles because of the studs. Neither Claire nor Tip was a murderer. If Cal had to choose, he'd rather Matthew be guilty, but Miles would serve. As far as he was concerned, it might be best if Sonny's murderer was never caught. Except then how would he find the journal? Everything came back to the journal.

Cal couldn't see Amanda, but he knew she was three rows up, sitting in the cramped middle after giving Noelle the roomier aisle seat.

How could she bear to talk so placidly to her sister after what Noelle had done to her? He sat by a window, trapped by a whining child and his father. The father tried to restrain the toddler but the boy was much too active. Had it been Cal's child, he would have set him down and made him stay.

When the small feet whapped his thigh for the hundredth time, he fumed.

“He's tired and cranky,” the father said in an offhand manner, doing nothing to stop the attack.

Aren't we all?
“I can tell.” Cal almost gave the man a lecture about parenting methods. He would have, except that the child hadn't caused his foul mood. He was exhausted and dispirited, and hated to think about parting from Amanda.

But until he figured out what had happened to Lila McIntyre Lathen's journal, he couldn't worry about his own affairs. Maybe by the time the journal turned up, he would have forgotten Amanda.

Sure. As easy as he could forget Claire and Johanna and how much they meant to him.

There was no time to think about Amanda. He had to deal with Claire's future.

Once he confronted Miles and collected his diamonds, more of the pieces should fit together. Miles could have shot Sonny and taken the book, or, Cal thought with returning optimism, Sonny might have let something about the book slip to Miles when handing over the diamonds.

You never could tell.

At the Atlanta airport, bidding a relieved farewell to the cranky child and his doting father—okay, the kid was pretty cute so maybe the father had reason to dote—Cal walked with the sisters to a waiting car that took them all to Amanda’s shop. There, he and Amanda shared a reserved farewell under Noelle’s disinterested gaze.

“You'll let me know?” Amanda's eyes said what her words didn’t. “If, I mean, when you get your things back?”

“Sure. Thanks for going with me.”

“I didn't have much choice.”

“Guess not.” He wished Noelle would vanish so he could kiss Amanda, hold her before he had to leave.

Unfortunately, Noelle was present, and Amanda had told him to cool it. Instead of kissing her, he got back into the car and left.

As the car drove past Lenox Square, he used his cell to contact the local detective agency Tip had recommended. “I want twenty-four hour surveillance on a woman.” He gave them Amanda's address and Noelle's name. “You have a photograph and description of her in your files.”

He knew damned well Noelle was frigging holding something back.

* * * *

Noelle seemed preoccupied, but Amanda had no time to question her sister. After Callaway left, she changed and went upstairs where the Saturday afternoon rush was underway.

She wondered when she would see him again. If she would see him again.

The look in his eyes had promised she would, but a few days apart could cool passion. No matter what he felt today, he could find a replacement for her tomorrow.

Probably a redhead. A sultry redhead wearing too much makeup and a revealing top.

Then her work kept her from thinking about him.

Coming downstairs after the shop closed, Amanda found Noelle had made herself at home.

Belongings were strewn over the entire apartment. Shoes left where Noelle had stepped out of them in the hallway, a wet towel crumpled on a kitchen chair, half the contents of a purse spread out on the coffee table beside the cordless phone from Amanda's bedroom, a coat tossed on the sofa, and used tissues everywhere.

Annoyed, Amanda carried the cordless phone to its cradle. Noelle would have to see to the other mess herself.

She wanted to call Callaway but didn't. She couldn't talk to him with Noelle listening to every word.

Besides, she wouldn't have called him anyway. An overeager woman would lose her prey because most men preferred doing the pursuing, even when they were the ones being pursued.

Especially when they were the ones being pursued.

So she went into the kitchenette to see about supper.

As she toasted bread and opened a can of chunk chicken to make chicken salad for sandwiches, Noelle, in leggings and a big shirt, picked up the damp towel left on the dinette chair and cleared her throat. “I need some money to go to Birmingham, Manda. Loan it to me?”

Hope filled Amanda. That was why the cordless phone was left in the living room. “You've talked to Edward.”

Noelle swung the towel. “Yeah. But we haven't made up. Not yet. I want to see Teddy. I've missed him. I'll take him that shirt you got him if you want me to.”

“Edward doesn't mind your coming?”

“No. That was the deal we made, that I could see Teddy whenever I wanted to. Will you loan me plane fare? I'll pay you back when I get my settlement.”

Amanda looked at her for a long moment but saw nothing that suggested Noelle was lying.

“Sure, honey.” She couldn't stand in the way of Noelle seeing her child and maybe, just maybe, Edward might reconsider his decision. A little voice in the back of her mind asked why Noelle was really going to Birmingham but faded with thoughts of Callaway.

She wondered if he would ever forgive her and Noelle.

* * * *

That night, Cal broached his thoughts about expanding Amanda's business to his brother-in-law.

“It's a ridiculous idea,” Robert said over after-dinner drinks Saturday evening. Heavy curtains in the study were drawn while the tiny fire on the hearth was for effect rather than heat. “The kind of boutique you're talking—”

“Not a boutique,” Cal interrupted. “A shop.”

Recovery from the flu had brought back Robert's normal impatience. “Whatever.” He flapped a hand. “Setting up that kind of project is expensive, and we already have contracts in most places. Besides, while the shop may do well in the local Atlanta market, for our purposes the name would mean nothing. You may not realize that nationally known brands do better in our hotels than unknowns.”

This last insinuated that Cal knew nothing about the hotel business or marketing.

Cal said mildly, “The idea is to make the name mean something.”

“Ridiculous.”

Claire, usually supportive of her husband in business conflicts, spoke up. “It could work.”

Sitting in the shadows and dressed with her pre-Houston neatness, she'd said little as Cal sketched out ideas for Amanda's designs. She looked better than the past Tuesday, with plumped cheeks and regained color. “We could use the upscale resorts. Jane's prices would never work in the others.”

Trust Claire to understand. “That's what I thought. A small place, like she has now, but using her ready-made line for the floor with a seamstress-manager to make alterations.”

Robert jumped up. “The idea's asinine. Listen to the both of you. Jesus H. Christ, don't I have enough on my goddamned mind without having to listen to the two of you prattle about dress shops?” He turned on his heel and left.

The obscenity was so foreign to Robert that Callaway looked askance at Claire.

In a colorless tone, she said, “He hasn't been feeling well. Dealing with those Virginia investors wore him out. And the auditors have been more critical than usual. He’s under a lot of pressure.”

“That's a good reason to bite our heads off?” Cal moved his chair close to hers. “I have an appointment with Miles in the morning. He may know something about Mother's book.”

She laid a hand against one side of her face to shade it from his eyes. “What if he doesn't?”

He had no answer.

She lowered her hand. “I've talked to Matt.”

“And?”

“He says… he's been very reassuring. He says I mustn't consider him or his son, or even Tip. That they can take care of themselves. He thinks Johanna is the only one to worry about.”

“Johanna's pretty level-headed.” Cal wondered if the conversation with Matthew was responsible for Claire's resurging vitality. “I'm sure she'd be upset, but she's strong, Bags.”

“Matt said that, too.” In the flickering firelight, Claire reminded him of a druid in a forest, waiting for the tree spirits to respond to her prayers. “Matt said that if Johanna did find out, he would almost be glad.” A secretive smile played on her lips. She put fingertips to them as if reliving a kiss.

Cal was outraged. “He should have said that twenty-three years ago. Claire, you can't—”