California Schemin' (17 page)

The mowed path would make it easy to walk
along behind the houses, but I suspected that everyone here had
security cameras of their own. The edge of the properties to the
right curved away so I could only see the yards for a short
distance. The outward curve of the subdivision left the back sides
of the houses exposed.

I walked to the corner of the senator’s yard
and looked around the wall into the neighbors’ property. It was
another beautifully landscaped garden with a pool taking up most of
the space. The wall extended to the edge of the house on both
sides. If there was a gate, I couldn’t see it.

A movement behind me caught my attention. I
turned to see Hambecker standing just outside the French doors,
watching me. I raised my hand in a finger wave. If I stepped off
the property, he’d be after me in a shot, no doubt. I migrated back
to the pool and sat in a chaise and closed my eyes. More power to
him, if he wanted to bore himself watching me take a nap.

A breeze sprang up and ruffled my hair. It
was like spring in Vermont. I heard the scraping noise of a chair
being pulled up beside me; it creaked as it took Hammie’s weight. I
refused to open my eyes and look at him.

“I found you a physical therapist,” he said.
“She’ll be here this afternoon.”

“That was fast.” I was impressed despite
myself.

“I called in a favor. My past life
occasionally comes in handy.”

“I can see that.”

“You’d see more if you’d open your eyes.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Both.” He sighed. “I was happier in the
Navy. The objective was precise, the chain of command was clear. We
knew what we were doing and why we were doing it. It’s hard to be
effective without a clear objective.”

“I can see that.” I wasn’t ever sure of my
objectives, and it didn’t bother me much.

“You’re probably going to hate me for saying
this, but I enjoyed abducting you. Get in, grab the target, get
out. Get clear of the plane. All action. No sitting around and
waiting. To tell you the truth, I probably could have taken you off
the plane through the airport. All I had to do was flash a phone
number, and it would have all worked out fine. It was just way more
fun to cause a scene and disappear. That’s what I do best.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Poor Hammie,
all muscle and training, stuck sitting around Wallace’s house
waiting for him to slip up, the opposite situation than what he was
trained for.

“I don’t know what to say. I can’t say I’m
happy to be the victim of a snatch-and-grab. I’m supposed to be at
home, thinking about Christmas presents and taking care of my
animals. My boyfriend has a broken leg, most likely courtesy of
Wallace, and that’s my fault. He can’t finish the job he was
working on, and I’m pretty sure he’s worried about what happened to
me. He probably thinks I’m dead, and they just haven’t found the
body yet.”

The breeze had turned into a wind and a
spattering of rain hit us and made ripples in the pool.

“Come on. Your neck will get all cold and
stiff again out here.”

I followed him back into the house and
through to the kitchen where Moose was pulling food out of the
fridge.

“You’re cooking?” I asked.

“One of us had to do it, and Hambecker’s not
my first choice for chef. He burns everything.”

“I like things well cooked,” said Hammie. “A
little carbon doesn’t bother me, although I have to say I like
Moose’s cooking better than mine.”

“My cooking consists of pulling a yogurt out
of the fridge,” I said, “so anyone is better than me. What are you
making?”

“Soup and sandwiches, if I can find what I
need. If I can’t, I’m sending Hambecker to the store.” He poured
some chips in a bowl, dumped salsa in another and put them in front
of me. “Eat this while I make some guacamole.”

I dipped a chip in salsa while Moose halved
an avocado and spooned it out of its shell. He stirred in some
mayo, a squirt of lemon juice and dumped in some of the salsa and
mixed it up. He plopped that in front of me too.

“Hey,” Hambecker said. “What about me? Why
does she get all the food?”

“She’s more appreciative, and you’ve got a
longer reach.”

Before long, Moose had homemade chicken
noodle soup on the stove and was toasting rolls for his hot
turkey-with-cheese sandwiches. The kitchen smelled wonderful, and I
stopped eating guacamole so that I’d have room for lunch. Hammie
pulled three beers out of the icebox and popped the caps off.

“Beer for lunch?” I asked taking a drink.
“Aren’t you two still on duty?”

“I’m not planning to drive anywhere today,”
Moose said. “The senator’s not here, and you are, so I’m cool.”

“I figure as long as you’re drinking beer,
too, I’m okay. I only need to be as sharp as you are fast. My guess
is that you are a lightweight and that beer is going to relax you
and make you sleepy. Am I right?”

“Probably,” I said. “Beer and ibuprofen. A
good start to an afternoon nap.”

“Don’t go to sleep until after the physical
therapist comes. She’s going to want to talk to you.”

Luckily, it wasn’t long before she came,
lugging her portable table and a carrier full of gear. We had her
set up in the little library so I could watch the wind and rain
while she worked, but in actuality, the sound of rain put me to
sleep.

A gentle hand on my shoulder woke me.

“Time for me to go.”

I didn’t open my eyes.

“Can’t I have five more minutes?”

“I’m sorry, I squeezed you in as a favor to
Richard, but I really have to go now.”

I groaned and sat up, swaying on the massage
table.

“Here, let me help you.” The massage
therapist supported my arm and led me to an armchair in front of
the window.

“Sit here until you feel more awake.”

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, she
was gone.

When I came out of the shower the next
morning, the senator’s voice was audible in the hall. My stomach
clenched as I wrapped myself in the towel and hurried into my room
to get dressed. He sounded jovial; obviously San Francisco had been
a success. I rubbed my hair with the towel, finger-combed it, and
took a quick look in the mirror. Mascara would help. Too bad I
didn’t have any.

Frustrated that I wasn’t looking my best, I
made my way into the kitchen where Senator Wallace was holding
court over Hambecker, Moose, Paris and an attractive young
dark-haired woman I assumed was his daughter.

The girls were perched on kitchen stools,
elbows resting on the island. Hammie was leaning against the wall,
and Moose was at the stove cooking eggs and pancakes. I assumed
that Wallace had a chef, but every time I’d been served a meal in
this house, Moose had cooked it.

Wallace was leaning against the sink counter,
forcing Moose to walk around to the prep sink in the island when he
needed water. Moose spotted me and smiled.

“Tea?” He grabbed the kettle and was halfway
around the island before I could respond. I didn’t have the heart
to tell him I wasn’t in the mood for anything, so I just
nodded.

“Bree, how lovely. Let me introduce you to my
daughter, Wendy. Wendy, this is the guest I told you about, Bree
MacGowan.

I reached out my hand to shake her hand. She
looked confused for a moment and then took it with a firm grip. I
appreciated a firm handshake, nothing worse than shaking a hand
that felt like a dead fish. She reminded me of Snow White with her
dark wavy hair and blue eyes. All she needed were puffed sleeves
and a blue apron.

“Dada tells me that you are going to help
catch the men who killed my stepmom. That’s great.”

Well, that explained why she looked nothing
like Lily Wallace. Stepmother.

“Yeah, well I hope I’m able to help. I’m not
sure I’ll recognize anyone, but I’ll try.”

Wallace beamed at me. “That’s my girl, I knew
you’d come around to my way of thinking. Feed this girl some
breakfast, Marshall. We’ve got a long morning ahead of us.”

The thought of food nauseated me, and I shook
my head at Moose. He looked at me with eyebrows raised and mimicked
my head shake with a frown.

“No food?” he mouthed. “Really.”

“No food,” I mouthed back. I turned back to
the group to find them all looking at us.

“I’m really not hungry,” I said. “I didn’t
want to be rude and refuse your hospitality, but something I ate
yesterday didn’t agree with me.”

Wallace started to protest.

“No, really, I’ll eat later. I just need some
time for my stomach to settle.”

Wallace shrugged, but Wendy fixed her baby
blues on me. I turned away, uncomfortable under her gaze.

A couple of dogs started barking, and Wendy
trotted out of the room. The French doors slammed, and she returned
a moment later with a couple of corgis following her. They stopped
when they saw me, and the fur rose on the darker dog’s back.

I kept my side to them, endeavoring to be a
little less threatening, and crouched down. This was either a
really stupid or really smart thing to do, depending on the
dogs.

In this case the gamble paid off. The dogs
wiggled their way over to me and sniffed the hand I dangled at my
side. A minute later I was cross-legged on the floor, the puppies
had flopped over onto their backs, and I was rubbing their
tummies.

Wendy joined me for the tummy-fest on the
floor. The dogs reminded me of home, and I had to blink back tears.
Moose knocked a box of tissues off the counter so I could wipe my
nose.

“What’s her name?” I asked as one of the
corgis wriggled and squirmed her way into my lap.

“That’s Fiddle, this is Bow.” She scratched
Bow behind the ears, and the dog made little grunting noises like a
pig.

“Fiddle? Your name is Fiddle?” I made a fuss
over the dog, and she stood up, put her front paws on my chest, and
reached up to lick my chin.

“Wendy,” Wallace said. “I thought I told you
those dogs could only come if they stayed outside or in your room.
I especially don’t want them in the kitchen. Take them away.”

Wendy got up and called Fiddle to her. Both
dogs followed her out of the room.

“Ms. MacGowan, come with me.”

I followed Wallace out of the room and up the
stairs. I sat in the chair opposite his and stared around, feigning
interest in his office. Wallace pulled a file out of a drawer in
his desk and slid it across to me.

“I want you to memorize these faces. Take
them to your room. Let me know when you’ve got them down, and I’ll
take you into Sacramento.”

“How am I going to explain why I didn’t
remember these guys earlier?”

“A lot can be explained by the shock of
finding a body. You won’t be the first person to remember something
after the fact.”

I took the photos down to my room and taped
them on the wall. I didn’t have any intention of memorizing their
faces, but if I didn’t look like I was making an effort, Wallace
would get suspicious. I was giving myself twenty-four hours. Then
Wallace would take me to Fogel, and I’d be quit of this place. I’d
get to go home.

I propped myself on the bed, facing the
pictures in case anyone came in, but planning to close my eyes and
take a nap. There was a tap at the door and Wallace walked in.

“I forgot something.” He handed me another
picture. “Just in case you were thinking you could tell Fogel
something different than what we agreed.”

I glanced down at the photo. It was Beau. He
was standing on the side of a country road with the aid of
crutches. The Foresthill Bridge stretched across the American River
Canyon behind him.

“Where is he now?” My voice caught in my
throat.

“Resting comfortably in my family’s cabin in
the mountains. Too bad he can’t ski at the moment. As it is, I
think he’s bored, so I sent some people up there to keep him
company. Men to help him get around and a couple of pretty girls to
amuse him.”

“How long has he been there?”

“A day or two. He’s staying until my name is
cleared. If you need to go on the witness stand, he’ll stay until
after you testify, just to keep you safe from attacks of
conscience.”

Wallace left, and I laid my head back and
closed my eyes. Sneaky bastard. What was I going to do now? Beau
would tell me to do the right thing, but I couldn’t risk Wallace
throwing him over the bridge. His chances of survival were slim,
even if he didn’t have a bullet in his head. No wonder the senator
was in such a good mood. He had an ace in the hole. I was
screwed.

I looked at the pictures on the wall and
wondered what the two men were really guilty of. Nothing, maybe.
Oh, crap. I pulled the edge of the comforter up over me, rolled
over and closed my eyes. Okay, God, if you’ve got a way to get me
out of this mess, now would be a good time to let me know what it
is.

Another tap came at the door.

“Go away.” I muttered. “No one’s home.”

I heard the door open but didn’t open my
eyes.

“Bree?” Wendy’s voice was tentative. “Do you
want to come run the dogs with me?”

“Where are you taking them?” I sat up in bed.
I needed to get out of this house.

“If we walk along the back of the houses,
we’ll come to a little dog park. There’s a kid park there, too, but
they set aside an area just for dogs to run and do their business.
Fiddle and Bow love to go there.”

Wendy loaned me a sweatshirt so I wouldn’t
get cold, and we started out along the back of the houses, walking
along the path. Wendy let the dogs off their leashes as soon as we
were out of sight of the house.

“I’m not strictly allowed to have them off
leash until we reach the park, but I don’t pay attention to that
rule unless my dad is with me. They don’t get enough exercise, and
I don’t want them to get pudgy.”