In the dead of winter there was a party going on at the Blashill mansion. . The mansion, a magnificent old house in the Colonial style, stood on a lone hill only a few miles from Seattle. The estate around it was lushly wooded with evergreens, cottonwoods, and birch. Among the tall trees nestled ornamental shrubs and wild flowers. There were two enormous Snow ball bushes nestled on either side of the porch. And a huge evergreen out in the middle of the yard with icicles hanging from its branches like a christmas tree. Many of them still wore their autumn blooms proudly, even though a thick snow was falling.
The estate's driveway wound through this serene landscape. The landscape was not quite so serene that night, because the driveway was crowded with cars. Elegantly dressed couples streamed into the mansion through the front door the house, laughing and chatting. A tall, athletic man, no older than thirty, entered with a gorgeous, curvy redhead on his arm.
The tall man opened the door for the redhead, and then held it open for the slim, dark-haired young woman who had walked up the drive behind them. He knew the woman noticed him as she passed; he could feel those deep chocolate eyes looking him up and down. Quickly he moved to the redhead's side.
Mr. Blashill came up to the couple and extended his hand. "Well! It seems as if Valerie Harper and the infamous Logan Cale have decided to grace us with their presence. I'm honored."
The redhead laughed. "Oh, stop it, Uncle. I told you at the paper I'd drag him to this party."
At the word paper Blashill frowned. Abruptly he asked, "So, Logan, when are you going to leave the Free Press and come to work for a real paper?"
Logan seemed to find the abruptness amusing. For a moment, he pretended astonishment. "You mean I'm wasting my time, Marshall? I didn't realize – I mean, I'd always thought the Free Press was a real paper. After all, it has almost the same circulation yours has."
"I'm serious," said Marshall. . "Why don't you come work for me?" With a sly expression, he added, "Valerie would sure love it."
"Uncle!" yelped Valerie. Embarrassed, she pretended to slap him on the arm.
The musicians, hired for the occasion, were setting up at the far end of the room. The petite brunette from the doorway was among them. Even though she still wore her heavy winter coat, her movements were slinky and sensuous. Logan watched in fascination as she climbed the steps to the temporary stage.
The leader of the ensemble stepped to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "Our star has arrived. At the invitation of Mr. and Mrs. Blashill, Seattle's finest female vocalist has agreed to give this special performance before she leaves for her tour of the United Kingdom. Please join me in welcoming Max Guevara." He paused as the guests applauded. Max stepped forward, smiled, and nodded in thanks.
"Thank you very much," Max said. She brushed heavy clumps of snowflakes from her thick dark hair. "I'm sorry I was late. I'm afraid I drive an old convertible."
"We'll forgive her, right, folks?" As" As the guests laughed again, the man handed his microphone to Max and stepped behind her to help her off with her heavy coat.
Logan stared transfixed. The singer was breathtaking. Her dress was brilliantly white; a simple, elegant sheath covered with layers of sheer sparkling silk. Her hair flowed loosely over her delicate shoulders; it just reached the tops of her perfect breasts. Her eyes were rimmed with smoky shadows that illuminated their rich chocolate depth.
She sipped water from a crystal glass, and then began to sing. The chatter of the party ceased at once. By the time the first song ended, even Marshall Blashill was entranced.
Logan didn't notice Valerie's jealous glare. Nor did he notice that, while he was mesmerized by the singer and her song, an expert pickpocket was stealing his wallet.
Max sang three songs, made a graceful bow, and quietly left the stage. She had her coat back on and was moving toward the door when Logan stopped her. "You have quite a beautiful voice, Miss Guevara – or is it Mrs. Guevara?"
"Oh, it's Miss," she said warmly. "It's definitely Miss, Mr. …"
"Cale. I'm Logan Cale. Please, call me Logan. I'm very pleased to meet you." Almost unconsciously, he stepped closer.
She smiled. Her eyes were intense and curious, but her next words were hurried. "I'm Max. And I'm sorry. It's wonderful to meet you, too, but I have to go home and pack. I've got to catch an early flight in the morning. Maybe we can talk again once I get back." She moved impatiently, trying to get past him to the door.
Logan didn't want her to hurry away. In the past, he'd had enough charm to persuade a woman to postpone packing. This was frustrating, almost irritating. "All right then, Max. I'll give you my number and you can call me when you're home from your trip." He started to reach into his pocket for a bit of paper and his silver fountain pen.
"Just tell me," Max said. "I'll remember."
That seemed unlikely, but Logan spoke automatically anyway. "5 4 3 8 7 4 2 6."
"5 4 3 8 7 4 2 6. Got it. Bye." With those quick words, Max slipped out the door and was gone.
While the band kept playing, Logan mingled and chatted and sipped wine. Finally, well after midnight, his eyes and Valerie's met in a look of agreement, and they sought out Marshall to say their goodbyes.
Marshall was listening patiently to a stout woman whom Logan didn't recognize.
"It's all right, Mrs. Funderburk," he was saying. "Tell me again, slowly. What's missing?"
"My bracelet. It's the one that matches – I must have dropped it. It matches my earrings." She" She lifted one soft hand to her ear and gasped in astonishment. " My earrings. They're missing to!"
Marshall blinked in confusion, "Are you sure you wore them tonight."
Mrs. Funderburk sniffed in annoyance. "Absolutely. I most assuredly put them on. And now they have somehow come off."
Another lady interrupted; this one was short and slight. She held up her bare left hand. "My husband Walter is missing his wallet and his watch, and my rings are gone. What's happening in your house, Mr. Blashill?"
A tall slender lady returned from the direction of the hall closet. "Marshall? ? My fur coat is missing."
Everyone patted pockets, touched earlobes, and started talking at once.
"Nice party, Marshall," snapped Logan. "I've lost my wallet and my college ring. Though I suppose you have to make ends meet with the paper's circulation dropping like that."
Valerie was cold and furious. "That was inexcusable,inexcusable; Logan, but you owe my uncle an apology anyway. Now."
Logan managed a tight grin that did nothing to hide his genuine irritation. "I was joking," he said. "I'm sorry."
Marshall gave Logan a curt nod and then turned away to address the rest of the guests. He motioned for silence. "Please, everyone, stay calm. We'll get to the bottom of this. I'm calling the police."
As Martin Blashill dialed the phone, his face was nervous and pale.
That same night, several people were gathered in a warehouse by the docks.
Max had changed the brilliant dress for a leather jacket and motorcycle boots. . She pulled her bike up to the door and strode over to the table where a big guy was sorting through the evening's loot. "Bill, it's getting hot here. I'm just gonna take my cut and blaze, okay?"
"Are you in charge, missy? I don't think so," growled Bill. "Besides, you're doing another gig for me tomorrow night. You can't just leave."
"Excuse me?" said Max. Her voice was low and angry.
"You heard me." Bill pulled out a roll of grubby cash. "Here. Take a couple hundred for your time."
"You've got to be kidding. Look at that haul. Don't tell me my cut's only two hundred. . That's not what we discussed, and you know it." Max's" Max's temper was boiling now.
"Stay and you'll get more. Take it or leave it." He" He was still smiling as he flipped two hundred-dollar bills in Max's direction.
"Are those my only choices?" she asked, and then suddenly she swung her foot into his chest. The kick knocked him into the wall, and the roll of money dropped out of his hand. The bills flew everywhere.
"You bitch! ! You don't do that to me and get away with it!" Bill" Bill struggled to stand, and made it as far as his knees. "Boys, get her!"
While Bill scrabbled to gather up his scattered money, his goons rushed Max. Almost instantly the goons were bleeding on the floor,floor and Max turned back to Bill. He was so busy scooping up his cash that he never saw Max before she kicked him right in the jaw and knocked him unconscious.
While the rest of the pickpockets who had worked the house stared in amazement, Max took several hundred dollars from Bill's limp hand and crammed them in her pocket. She looked through the wallets on the table until she found Logan Cale's, and she took that too. She left the rest of the money for her partners in crime, waved to them, and took off on her bike.
She'd have to leave the city until things cooled off. But once she came back, she'd be coming back for that hunk of a guy she'd met that night.