CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Logan did not share her outrage. After telling him what she'd found at Kane Software, he took the 'Duncan's clueless' side of the argument. Last night, his logical 'you never actually told him you were looking for an accomplice' was convincing enough to make her stop thinking about it and go to sleep, but today she was back to doubting how anyone could be that blind.
"Taw Mama." Wyatt was kneeling in the grass waiting for her.
"Right, sorry." Veronica picked up the blue toy saw and pretended to cut the end of the rubber cap before placing it in the hole for Wyatt to hit.
They'd spent the morning watching Logan construct the frame for the ten tons of rubber mulch and Wyatt kept trying to "help" him. Stopping her from playing with the metal stakes, keeping her fingers away from the saw, and convincing her that rubber mulch —despite its colorful mix— did not taste good was more work than actually building the border. Halfway through the frame assembly, Veronica needed a nap more than the baby did and was relieved when Logan halted the construction to get ready for his playdate with the trophy wife.
Of course, one naptime later and Wy wanted to return to the building project with or without Daddy. Her green and silver plastic hammer was clutched tightly in both hands as she banged on the frame.
"Grandpa and Nana Dot are coming over to play with you tonight."
Wyatt paused in her hammering and tilted her head making the little yellow hardhat slip sideways. "Puppy?"
Veronica righted the hat. "Yes, Partner too."
"Now?" Her eyes darted toward the house.
"In a little bit."
The baby nodded and the hat slid over her eyes. Pushing back the brim, Wyatt wiped her forearm across her brow in an exact imitation of Logan from earlier and Veronica grinned at her cute construction worker.
She "sawed" off the next plug and stuck it in the hole for Wyatt to hammer. "Maybe we should tighten it with your screwdriver?"
"Okay." She watched Veronica take the purple screwdriver from the tool box and then snatched it from her fingers. "Me do."
"It's Mommy's turn; remember we have to share our toys?" Reluctantly, Wyatt returned the screwdriver and Veronica pretended to screw the rubber stopper into place. "Now it's your turn."
Wy gave the screwdriver a few twists, tossed it in the grass, and went back to her hammer. Clearly banging on the rubber beam was more fun. Louder too. She stopped and held out the hammer. "Mama turn."
She took the toy, gave the beam a good whack, and handed it back. "Thanks for sharing with me." Leaning forward, Veronica tipped up the baby's hardhat and kissed her nose before she could start hammering again. She picked up another rubber stopper. "Uh-oh it looks like this hole is too tiny. Should we drill it and make it bigger?"
"Yes!" Wyatt's enthusiasm for drilling quickly waned. She chewed her fingertip and frowned at the toolbox.
Immediately understanding the problem, Veronica took the two remaining tools and held them in her palms. "The wrench is blue and the drill is orange."
Wyatt popped her finger from her mouth and smiled. She grabbed the drill with both hands and pushed the trigger. The rzzz sound effect made her eyes widen in surprise and then she laughed. She hit the button again and again, laughing each time. "Me 'rill!" Standing, she moved from hole to hole drilling each of them to: "Make big."
Veronica used her phone to take some video so Logan could see how much Wyatt loved the early birthday present and then checked the time. His playdate was taking longer than expected. If they wanted to eat dinner before leaving for Celeste's party she'd need to get the grill ready without him. Keeping an eye on Wyatt, she got the charcoal, smoker tray, and hickory chips from the shed.
Somewhere between Veronica filling the smoker tray with wood and arranging the charcoal pyramid, Wyatt lost interest in drilling and was inching her way toward the barbecue. She stopped a few feet away and pointed at the Weber. "Hot?"
"Very hot."
The baby looked down at her hands. "No touch?"
"That's right- no touching." With a fireplace match, she lit the charcoal and then scooped up Wyatt and carried her into the house. It didn't matter how many times they told her she couldn't touch the grill, the barbecue was too tempting for her. Veronica closed and locked the screen door behind them before putting her down. "Do you want to help me shuck corn?"
Pressing her palms and face against the screen, she stared at the fire. "No."
Leaving her to watch the grill, Veronica got the corn from the fridge put them on a plate and popped them into the microwave. When the timer sounded, she cut the end off the cob, squeezed the top of the ear and shook the corn free from its husks.
A shouted, "Gwanpa" was closely followed by a cry of, "Puppy," and then the rattling of the door.
"Easy," Keith chuckled. "You're going to go right through the screen."
Veronica didn't know if the admonishment was for Partner or Wyatt, but if she had to place a bet she'd put her money on the baby. Tossing the chaff in the garbage, she went to unlock the door.
Wyatt was bouncing on the balls of her feet and out on the deck, Partner was wagging his tail and softly chuffing- each of them eager to get to the other. "Mama!"
"I'm right here." She started to slide back the screen, but it wasn't fast enough for Partner. He pushed his nose through the crack and licked Wyatt's face. "Good training job you're doing, Pops."
"He just finds her as irresistible as the rest of us do." The dog bounded into the house and straight for Wyatt. She rushed him and they landed on the floor together in a tangle of limbs and fur and paws. The baby squeezed him in a big hug and he slobbered her with giggle-inducing kisses.
"Where's Dottie?"
"We took separate cars –she wouldn't trust Partner to be alone in the backseat with our dessert." He passed her a legal-sized, expansion file folder. "Norris dropped that off for you."
"Did he get the surveillance video from the bank?"
He nodded. "The CD is in there."
"Have you watched it yet?"
Keith's answer was interrupted by Logan's —"Whoa"— as both toddler and dog flew at him. He squatted to catch Wyatt who wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a loud kiss. "Now that's a greeting." He glanced at Veronica. "Why don't you ever throw yourself in my arms when I come home?"
"Because I'm not a television housewife from the Fifties."
Logan ducked his head to hide a grin and scratched behind Partner's ears. The dog dropped to the floor and rolled on his back exposing his belly for more affection. Again Logan glanced at Veronica. "If I scratched you—"
"Don't even," she warned.
This time he didn't try to hide his smile. "Remember that Bean, no swooning over a man."
Wy nodded. "No 'woon."
"Well, let's not be too hasty," Veronica cautioned. Logan arched a quizzical eyebrow and she batted her eyes at him. "After all, Chris Hemsworth is dreamy."
With a slight head shake, he stood with Wyatt still in his arms. Partner scrambled to his feet, tagging along behind them as Logan crossed the room and kissed Veronica's cheek. "Dreamy huh?"
"Mmm-hmm." Partner whined and nudged Logan's thigh with his nose. "I think he wants you to put Wyatt down."
A furiously wagging tail and a soft plaintive bark said the dog agreed with Veronica's assessment. "What do you think Bean? Do you want to get down and play with the puppy?"
It was a silly question and they all knew it. He put her on the floor without waiting for an answer just as the doorbell rang. Veronica shoved the red rope file at Logan's middle as she started for the front hall. "That will be Dottie with dessert."
"For dessert she'll swoon," he muttered and Keith chuckled at the remark.
"And for Chris Hemsworth," she tossed over her shoulder. She opened the door for Dottie who was carrying a large glass-covered tray of cream puffs drizzled with chocolate sauce in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. Veronica frowned at the white bag covered with familiar backward R's in bold, primary colors. "What did you do?"
"Brought baked goods as a distraction." Dottie held out the tray of dessert and hid the bag behind her leg.
"It didn't work," she said as she took the cream puffs.
"We'll talk again after you eat one. And this isn't from me" —reaching in the bag she pulled out a small Padres ball cap— "Your father felt Wyatt needed one for opening day, baby." Her impersonation of Keith was perfection and Veronica laughed.
The two women entered the living room to find it empty. They followed the sound of Wyatt's laughter out to the yard. Logan had unlocked the pool cover and was tossing a tennis ball into the water for Partner to retrieve. Each time the dog jumped into the deep end with a splash, Wy clapped. Ball in mouth, the dog raced to the baby and shook his body sending water flying from his fur —a puppy sprinkler system.
Keith was at the grill spreading the charcoal. "What am I cooking?"
"Shish kebobs and corn and a turkey frank for Wyatt."
Holding his hand flat above the charcoal, he counted the seconds to test the heat. "Grill's ready."
Veronica carried the cream puffs to the kitchen; stealing one from the tray before putting them in the fridge. Biting into the flaky shell, she savored the sweet vanilla center and rich chocolate sauce. Dessert before dinner- adulthood has its privileges. She stuck a roll of tinfoil under her arm, picked up the plates of food and carried them out to her dad.
Dottie had joined Logan near the pool and they were engaged in a conversation that he clearly did not want to be having. Veronica recognized the signs: the tight-lipped expression, the distant stare, and the absentminded bouncing of the tennis ball on the slate-colored pavers.
"Do you know what that's all about?"
Keith followed her gaze to the pool and shook his head. "No idea." He returned his attention to the grill and turned the skewers. With his back to her she couldn't tell if he was bluffing or if he really didn't know. But his rapid change of subject made her suspicious. "I watched the surveillance video."
"Anything?" She wrapped the ears of corn in foil and lined them up on the teak grill table.
"The car was there for a while, but the camera angle only gave us a glimpse of the fender and then a few seconds of footage as it comes down the street. I printed some stills to show Eli and, with the paint analysis, his best guess was a Mercury Cougar- late sixties, early seventies."
Another classic car. "No view of the driver?"
He shook his head. "But it might not be Anthony Calabrese."
"Why not?"
"The FBI thinks he's dead." Keith added the corn to the barbecue. "They tracked his movements to California and—"
"So he was out here." It lent credibility to Veronica's theory that Lisa moved here to find her brother's killer. She was hunting for Anthony Calabrese.
"They think he made contact with his former sister-in-law —Vinnie's widow— and she helped him cross the border into Mexico."
"That doesn't make any sense. The Sinaloa cartel wanted to kill him; why would he run straight to them?" The cartel was known as 'Mexico's most powerful organized crime group.' Why flee south to Mexico and not north to Canada?
"They have video of him walking across the border."
Veronica shook her head. "Remember that family that went missing? They had video of them crossing the border too and then they found their bodies up in Victorville."
"Honey, I'm just telling you what Agent Townsend told me." He removed the shish kebobs and stacked them on the corn plate with the hotdog for Wyatt.
"Fine, but that still doesn't mean he's dead."
"They found a body in Chihuahua. He was beheaded" —Keith winced— "And his hands and feet were missing, which made identification difficult, but they're confident it was Anthony Calabrese."
Dottie caught the tail-end of their conversation as she joined them on the deck and she grimaced. "I can't believe you two are talking about beheadings and missing extremities right before we're going to eat."
"In my defense, I left out the worst part." Keith's quick glance at the glowing coals was enough for Veronica to figure out what he meant by 'the worst part,' but thankfully Dottie had already turned toward the house.
"Are we going to eat inside or out here?"
"Ow'side!" Was Wyatt's vote as she clambered onto the deck followed by Logan and a still wet Partner. She headed straight for the barbecue.
Logan grabbed her by the middle and hoisted her onto his shoulders. "Inside."
"Good idea," Veronica concurred.
They carried the food into the house and ate in the kitchen; all conversation of the missing and presumed dead Anthony Calabrese suspended during the meal. But that didn't stop Veronica from thinking about him. Head, hands, and feet gone and his body burned meant the identification could have been wrong. It also meant she was no longer in the mood for barbecued meat. She ate her salad and corn and then excused herself to start getting ready for Celeste's party.
Logan frowned at her mostly untouched plate prompting her to grab an apple from the bowl on the counter. She brandished it in front of him and took a large, exaggerated bite on her way from the room.
Veronica took her time in the shower —what's the point of a wedding present, if you're not going to enjoy it— and an equally long time with her makeup and hair. Parting it to the side, she created a loose four-strand braid, which she twisted and secured at the nape of her neck. Then with a curling iron, she styled the face-framing strands into gentle waves.
If —and it was a big if to her— Anthony was dead, then she was out of suspects in the hit and run case. There was Stewart and Nigel, but their connection to each other was so obvious, killing Lisa and Mac wouldn't keep it a secret. Stupid Duncan. From four theories, a myriad of motives, and an entire list of suspects, she was left with nothing. Hello, square one. The question that kept nagging her was why? Why would Anthony run to Mexico, the heart of the Sinaloa's operation?
When she came out of the bathroom, Logan was standing in the middle of their bedroom wearing nothing but a white towel slung around his waist. "Uh, I think the party is a little more formal than that."
He pouted, "But I have the perfect shoes to go with this."
"Ugh, shoes." She sat on the edge of the bed. One of the benefits of having a tall husband was being able to wear heels. The four-inch, strappy nude sandals she'd planned to wear tonight were probably not a good idea. She directed a baleful stare at her knee.
His white towel landed next to her and her usual complaint about wet towels on the bed went unvoiced because she was too busy checking out the other benefits of her husband. "You didn't have to shower in the guest room."
"I thought you actually wanted to go to this party." He leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder. "If I'd joined you in the shower, we'd still be in there."
Disappearing into the walk-in closet he returned carrying a garment bag, a white dress shirt, and a pair of expensive looking black wingtips. Veronica watched him dress in the charcoal grey made-to-measure Tom Ford suit. "Really throwing yourself into the role of rich investor, huh?"
"No one's even going to notice me with you in that dress." He finished threading the black alligator belt through his pants and then picked up his white gold Patek Philippe watch with a matching black alligator band. "I might have gotten some attention if you let me go with the towel, but…" He shrugged.
Rolling her eyes, Veronica headed for the closet in search of shoes. She cast a longing look at the sexy heels sitting on the floor beneath her dress before turning to the shoe organizer. The best substitute she could find was a pair of beige lace-up ballet flats. Carrying them out of the closet, she wasn't sure if she was back in their bedroom or in the middle of a photoshoot for GQ magazine.
Logan was leaning on the dresser, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his face in profile. One hand was resting on the dresser's surface and the other was buried in his hair. The top few buttons of the white dress shirt were undone and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. This was him not even trying. She shook her head. No one's going to notice him, my ass.
She tossed the shoes on the bed. "How did it go with trophy wife?"
"You know, a little part of me misses jealous Veronica- she was very cute."
"I'm sure she's still around here somewhere." She went back to the closet for her dress. "Probably packed away with my piano wire and my gun."
"There she is." He smiled. "It went fine —she loved the plant, put it in her living room— plus I managed to install cameras in both bathrooms and her bedroom. It only got a little tricky when it was time to leave."
"Tricky how?" She shimmied her way into the dress and sat on the bed to put on her shoes. Holding out a foot, she wiggled it at him. "Some help?"
He knelt on the floor, wrapped the laces around her calves, and tied them in bows. "When I was coming back from the bathroom, I heard her calling a friend to pick up her son. Showing up without Wyatt made her think it was a different sort of playdate."
"How did you get out of it?"
"Who says I did," he teased.
"Gun. Piano wire."
"Right." As he stood, he leaned over and kissed her nose. "I pretended to get a text from you- apparently you changed your mind about me taking Wyatt for the day. Then I confessed that I was still in love with you and hoping we'd reconcile."
"Was she crushed?" Veronica slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.
"Completely devastated."
"You're pretty good at this subterfuge thing."
"Learned from the best." His fingers traced a lazy path down her spine and before they could move any lower she stepped back.
"Did we really manage to get ready for this party without Wyatt needing us for something?" By now, she normally would have called for at least one —and probably both— of them several times. Or else she would've been in here with them wanting to 'get fancy' too- asking for makeup, doing her hair, and trying on Veronica's shoes.
"She's busy eating cream puffs."
"Puffs plural? As in, more than one?"
He smirked. "Afraid there'll be none left for you?"
"No, I'm afraid she'll be on a sugar high and still awake when we get home." She ran her hand up his chest and gave him a bawdy wink "And I have plans for you later."
"Well, when you put it that way." Taking her hand, he tugged her toward the door.
They didn't make it to the kitchen. Splashing and chattering from the bathroom alerted them to the whereabouts of Wyatt. "Puppy too?"
"Partner will get his own bath tomorrow." Dottie's weary tone suggested this wasn't the first time Wy asked the question.
"Me share."
"It's nice you want to share, but little girls and puppies don't take baths together."
There was a moment of silence while the baby contemplated this answer. "Puppy pool an' me pool."
"Argumentative like her mommy," Logan whispered with a grin.
Veronica stuck her tongue out at him and walked into the bathroom to save Dottie from an endless barrage of puppy bath questions. Wyatt's lips were pursed and her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to work out why swimming pools and bathtubs were different. "Hey, sweet pea."
She tipped her bubble covered head back and smiled. "Mama fancy!"
"Daddy and I are going—"
"Me go bye-bye." She stood and Dottie quickly put out her hands to stop her from slipping.
Logan knelt next to the tub and Veronica cringed as Wyatt's wet hands grabbed his dress shirt. "You need to stay here with Grandpa and Nana Dot." Scooping up a handful of bubbles, he blew them at her while coaxing her back into the water. "Partner would miss you."
Veronica leaned over the tub to kiss her forehead. "He wants to go night-night with you and listen to Grandpa read stories."
The baby stared at her and then looked to Logan with what he called her 'Veronica-expression' —head titled and wary— as if they were trying to trick her. "Grandpa's going to read you and Partner stories in your bed," he confirmed.
"Okay." Wyatt turned back to her boats, dismissing them.
They bade their goodbyes to Dottie with a promise to not be too late and then told Keith it was okay to let Partner sleep on the bed with Wyatt. Veronica paused on her way from the house. "While we're gone, can you look into Anthony and Vinnie Calabrese? See if they had any connection to someone in Mexico? Family maybe? Or maybe they were working for a rival cartel and—"
"Go to your party, Veronica."
She closed the door, turned, and bumped right into Logan. He was watching her with a slight smile —the one that was equal parts amusement and wonder. "Do you ever give your brain a rest?"
"On Tuesdays… during a full moon… in a leap year." Veronica took his hand. "Now let's get this date night started."
"No, sorry." He remained immobilized on the porch. "This does not count as our date night- this is a work thing."
"But I'm all fancy and we're together without Wyatt and" —she smiled— "Rumor has it that you're going to get lucky tonight. So… date night."
Shaking his head, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, escorted her to the car, and held open her door. Once she was settled, he leaned in and kissed her. "Is it only a rumor or am I really being invited inside tonight?" His hand skimmed up her thigh and disappeared under her dress making the double entendre clear and causing her to flush.
"I'm definitely having my way with you."
"Good to know." Removing his hand, he shut her door, circled around the car and climbed behind the wheel. "Do you have an address because I don't think hell is a point of interest in the GPS?"
She dug out the post-it she'd transferred to her clutch and handed it to him. "What were you and Dottie talking about by the pool?"
He glanced at the dashboard clock. "Wow, you restrained yourself for almost three whole hours, I'm impressed."
"You're also a jackass."
"Yes, but I'm your jackass." He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "She wanted to know if I've made up my mind about the job."
"Say what now? A job?"
"You know, where you perform services in exchange for the thing they call a paycheck." Turning his head, he gauged her reaction and sighed at her stony countenance. "It's for a defense contractor working on next-generation drones for the Navy; they want to switch over to unmanned planes and do away with fighter jets."
"That's scary." It was a double-edged sword for sure. The potential for saving pilot lives made a compelling argument, but how many more wars would be waged when you could fight them from the comfort of your living room? Veronica was torn. "And what would you be doing for them?"
"Justifying years of playing video games." He turned on Bird Rock Avenue, a straight shot to the ocean. "I just don't know if now is the right time for me to start working."
She frowned. Apparently Wyatt isn't the only one with separation anxiety. "Do you want to do it?"
"It means I get to fly," he answered without hesitation.
"Then you should take the job. Wyatt will be fine. You'll be home every night and on weekends and she loves spending time with Dot. Provided she's still willing to be our daycare?"
Before his last deployment and before learning that Veronica was going to stay home, Dottie had offered to watch Wyatt so they wouldn't have to put her in a day care program.
"She is." Another glance at her. "I'll think about it, okay?"
She murmured an mmm-hmm in assent. There was no point pushing the issue; it was his decision to make. But the eagerness of his 'I get to fly' response said he wanted the job.
Logan turned onto Duncan's street. It was a semicircle road; gently bending toward the water, its curve resembled a dolphin leaping from the ocean, hence its name- Dolphin Place. The only part of the house visible from the street was a rust-colored metal garage and a narrow walkway leading to a smoked glass door set in concrete. An architectural feature of concrete, steel, and teak jutted from the top of the house and covered the walkway. Its shape reminded Veronica of the prow of a ship. Recessed lights in the teak underside illuminated the path to the front door.
A valet station was set up in front of the garage door. Logan started to drive past the two uniformed parking attendants and then, with a brief look at her knee, he applied the brakes. Putting the car in park, he got out and started toward her door, but the valet reached her first. Veronica ignored his outstretched hand and exited the car on her own.
"Ronnie!" Dick called as he jogged up the street to them.
"You're right this place is hell," Veronica muttered. When Dick reached them, she said: "You have got to stop stalking Logan. You had your chance with him and you lost."
Dick grinned. "It's not him, Ronnie; you know you're the one I want."
"Yuck." Veronica frowned. "Why are you here? Did something happen to Mac? Is she okay?"
"She's fine. Ryan says she's more alert today —keeping her eyes open longer— and she was able to breathe on her own without the ventilator."
"Can we see her?"
Dick shook his head. "Not yet; maybe tomorrow or Monday? She's only awake for very short periods and when she is, she's confused and agitated."
While not obvious to Dick, her worry was easily read by Logan. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and said, "But that's normal, right?"
"Yeah, the doctors are pretty happy with her progress and her levels look good."
Veronica relaxed. "So why are you here? Investing in Kane Software?" In a pair of well-worn black jeans, a matching black tee shirt, and a pair of sneakers, he certainly wasn't dressed for the party.
"Hell no, Duncan asked me to cater."
"And you said yes?" Logan seemed a little put out by this turn of events.
"I wasn't going to, but he said Ronnie needed this party for her invest—"
Clamping a hand over his mouth to keep him from finishing, Veronica checked out the surrounds. Thankfully there was nobody in earshot. The one parking attendant was still off with their car and the other was sneaking a cigarette across the street. "We're here as investors."
"Got it- sorry."
She couldn't believe Duncan told him the reason for the party. She'd specifically told him the plan needed to stay between the three of them. Who else did he tell? And why am I surprised that he can't be trusted? "Catering, huh? Does that mean there are artichoke frizzles inside?"
Logan laughed at her sudden eagerness. "The food from Breakers is a little low-brow for a Celeste Kane extravaganza."
Dick nodded in agreement. "They're canapés from the Sans Souci menu."
Sans Souci was his fine dining restaurant in San Diego. Its sister restaurant in New York, Enjouée, shared the same menu, but it had a coveted three Michelin stars. "So nothing for me to eat then." She sighed. "I guess we'll just have to stop at Fatburger on our way home." Taking Logan's arm, she waved goodbye to Dick, and started inside.
"Not smart, Veronica." Logan shook his head. "Insulting Dick's food? Without him and his recipes, we'd probably starve to death."
She patted his arm. "You can make it up to him later; buy him something shiny."
As they reached the end of the portico, a pretty uniformed hostess opened the front door with a welcoming smile. Logan ducked his head and graced her with one of his patented flirty smiles.
Veronica rolled her eyes. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"
"I have no idea—"
"What are you doing here," Celeste hissed. She blocked their path, preventing them from entering the house. "This is a private party."
"Duncan invited us." Veronica's news made Celeste's eye twitch.
And when Logan chimed in with— "We're going to buy some of his class B stock" —it looked like she was experiencing an apoplectic fit: her cheeks flamed and her mouth opened and closed without forming any words just a strangled, choking sound.
Veronica found it difficult to suppress a grin. "Excuse us."
Celeste made a rapid recovery and grabbed her arm- hard. Like mother, like son. "Don't think that because Duncan's back, you are going to worm your way back into his life."
"Let go of my wife- now," Logan commanded.
"That's right you two are married," she scoffed, but she released her hold on Veronica's arm. "Wedding vows didn't exactly keep your slut of a mother from sleeping with my husband, did they? The past is not going to repeat itself; do you hear me?"
Unaffected by the nasty diatribe, Veronica glanced over Celeste's shoulder into the large airy room. Those closest to them had stopped eating their canapés and were avidly watching the unfolding scene. "I think the entire party heard you."
Aghast, Celeste took a step back. She conjured up her fake socialite smile and turned toward her acceptable guests. Effortlessly, she moved through the room, stopping to mingle with each small group to put them at ease. But it didn't stop them from shooting covert stares in Veronica's direction. Just like the halls of Neptune High.
Logan stepped in front of her, blocking their view. "Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Don't worry, I'm a big girl."
"Maybe" —he stroked her cheek with his knuckles— "But you're my girl and I do worry."
"One day that's going to make your hair turn gray and fall out." She grinned. "Just ask my dad."
"Hey, you told me that was a myth."
"I lied. How else could I convince you to marry me? I know how you feel about your hair." She took his hand. "Now let's go eat; do you think Dick made those gougères we had at our wedding?" A fancy French cheese puff, they were choux pastry dough mixed with grated Gruyère and baked into little pillows of perfection.
What the house lacked in character at the entrance was more than made up for with its walls of glass and sweeping views of the Pacific. Veronica and Logan moved across the travertine tile toward the ocean vista. Pressing against the glass, she could see that they were actually on the top level of the house and the other two floors were cut into the bluff beneath them. The lower level opened to an outside flagstone patio and at its end —before you reached the waist-high glass wall and the cliff beyond— was a wide, linear gas firepit.
Waiters were circling through the room with trays of various champagne cocktails- bellinis, mimosas, Shanghai fizzes, and there was an open bar set up in the corner, but there was no food in sight. She frowned and rubbed her belly.
"Something wrong?"
"We're hungry."
"I guess now wouldn't be the time to remind you that this is what happens when you skip dinner?"
"And yet that's exactly what you're doing." Her eyes skimmed the room. The amount of people had thinned considerably since her altercation with Celeste and there were only a few stragglers remaining on this level of the house. And none were the person she wanted. "Let's move downstairs."
The theme of glass walls and open floor plan continued on both the middle floor and the bottom level as did the American walnut ceilings and recessed lighting. It was a beautiful house —an architectural showplace— but it was also cold and uninviting. Celeste's personality as a building. She couldn't imagine Laurel growing up here and feeling at home. Veronica said as much to Logan.
"It's going to make her really popular at Neptune High; it's a great party house."
"Maybe that's why the Mannings want her to go to Neptune Christian Academy," she groused. "Turn her into a Stepford child like," Veronica nodded toward the woman standing by the stainless-steel kitchen island.
Logan kissed her hand and released it. "Go do your thing tiny blonde one."
She was momentarily distracted by the scrumptious array of food and her growling stomach. Picking up a plate, Veronica started at the other end of the buffet and helped herself to pan-seared lamb lollipops seasoned with rosemary, garlic, and Dijon; sweet figs stuffed with ricotta cheese, drizzled with honey and topped with pistachios; miniature duck confit fried spring rolls perched on a clear shot glass of hoisin-plum dipping sauce; and a handful of the anticipated gougères.
Keeping her target in sight, Veronica moved down the line until she was standing next to the other woman. "Lizzie?" She touched her arm to get her attention.
Lizzie whirled around; the canapés on her plate sliding precipitously close to the edge. It took a minute for her cool blank stare to flood with recognition. "Veronica Mars."
"How are you?" She asked in an attempt at polite chitchat.
Lizzie's blonde hair was darker and longer now; it was pulled back from her face by a wide navy headband which matched her dress. The dress itself had a scalloped neckline with long sleeves and its hem fell past the knees. She wasn't wearing anything on her face except a scowl. "Are you here for Duncan?"
Since the answer was yes, but definitely not in the way Lizzie meant, Veronica ignored the question. "Duncan told me you went to Hong Kong to visit him and Laurel; did you and your husband have a good time?"
When reading the background check on Nigel Clark, Veronica noted his graduation from Neptune Christian Academy, but it didn't register as important until she saw the same school in Duncan's calendar. Then the remembered image of Lizzie leaving Meg's hospital room —changed and demure in her modest school uniform— provided Veronica with the connection between Nigel and Stewart Manning: E. Clark, Elizabeth Clark née Lizzie Manning.
Her features softened as she talked about her niece. "Laurel's a great kid; Meg would be—" A sad smile flitted across her face. "I guess I should thank you for that."
It wasn't a complete thaw in Lizzie's hostile attitude, but her frosty gaze was a few degrees warmer. Again, Veronica didn't know how to respond so she sidestepped. "When did you go? To Hong Kong, I mean."
"Last year sometime."
Veronica ate another cheese puff and casually asked: "Was that your only trip?"
"No, we went a few times; Nigel really seemed to love it there."
I'll bet he did. She doubted his passion for the island had anything to do with sightseeing. If he met the Soongs on one of those trips, he could've been planning the faked espionage for a long time. "Is he here? Your husband?"
"He's around." Lizzie put some space between them as her eyes darted around the room. Whether she was looking for her husband or an escape route, Veronica couldn't be sure, but she knew her time was short.
"He works for Kane Software, right?"
It drew her attention back to Veronica, but not in a good way. "Why all the questions?"
Logan chose then to join them; handing her a drink that resembled a sunset in a glass and kissing her temple. "Hey Lizzie."
"What's up Lo—"
"Elizabeth," Nigel corrected as he walked up behind his wife. "Her name is Elizabeth." The normally brazen and vivacious Lizzie shrank in the presence of her husband. He wrapped a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and she cowered beside him.
Veronica wasn't the only one who noticed the change in her demeanor. Logan's relaxed posture was gone; his body tense and on full alert. "Lizzie and I are old friends from high school," he drawled. Logan was purposefully baiting the man.
"This is too sweet." If anyone noticed she hadn't taken a sip of her drink, they didn't comment. "Would you mind getting me some water?" Veronica put her hand on her husband's arm. "Logan? Water?"
He smiled at her, but his eyes said: nope, not leaving you alone. "Have mine." He swapped her fruity drink for his glass. "So how do you know Lizzie?"
Nigel bristled at the repeated use of the name. "I'm her husband." He may as well have said 'her owner' because the tone was the same. "Now if you'll excuse us." His grip on Lizzie's shoulder tightened as he shepherded her away from them.
Logan took a step in their direction like he intended to follow and Veronica moved in front of him, cutting off his progress. "That's the guy you met with at Kane Software?" he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at the retreating couple and then nodded. In light of Lizzie's appearance and her husband's domineering attitude, Nigel's disapproval of Amber's revealing outfit and his assurance that she was not Duncan's type suddenly made sense. He was expecting that Duncan's type be a "good girl" like Meg Manning. "A real charmer isn't he?"
"Do you think he hits her too?"
The addition of the word too didn't escape Veronica's notice. Logan was sensitive to abuse and he'd immediately recognized that relationship as abusive, even if it wasn't physical. "I don't know."
She felt bad for Lizzie. From rebelling against her father and his strict, extreme religious zealotry to marrying a man just like him. It was a glimpse of what Laurel's future could have been if Duncan didn't kidnap her and what it might still be if he didn't keep her away from the Mannings now. "I need to find Duncan."
"He's out on the lanai."
It was the same direction Nigel and Lizzie headed, which explained the dangerous gleam in Logan's eyes. "Maybe we should just go home and I'll call Duncan tomorrow," she murmured.
"Worried about me?"
Veronica shook her head. "Nope, I'm pretty sure you could take him."
The gentle tease took the edge off and he smiled. "Only pretty sure?"
"Okay, definitely sure, but not here."
Nodding, Logan gestured toward the patio. "Lead the way."
It was easy enough to find Duncan; he was holding court by the firepit, discussing the future of Kane Software and the cutting edge projects they were working on. He didn't mention Smartpaper by name, but he was doing a good job —with an assist from Charles Shepherd— of promoting the company to the potential investors. Leaving Logan on the outskirts of the gathering, Veronica worked her way through the people until she reached Duncan's side. "Do you have a minute?"
He was a little peeved with her interruption —pointedly looking at his audience and huffing an exaggerated sigh— but he made his excuses and followed her back to Logan. "What is it?"
"You're an idiot." His mouth gaped open, offended by her assessment. Not caring about his hurt feelings, she continued: "Stewart Manning's son-in-law works for you and you can't figure out who's behind the espionage?"
"Nigel?" Duncan frowned."You think he's responsible for stealing the Smartpaper drawing?"
"But not to sell it." Veronica connected the dots for him —Stewart Manning agreeing to Duncan's plea deal in exchange for super voting stock, faking the espionage to force Celeste into selling more shares to raise capital— and finally: "Then the Mannings could sue for custody of Laurel and control of her trust."
Duncan shook his head. "That was part of the deal- me keeping custody of Laurel."
"Under certain conditions, right? Like her attendance at Neptune Christian Academy," Veronica challenged. "God, Duncan- how long do you think it would take them to accuse you of violating the agreement or worse? Once they got custody of Laurel, they could take over Kane Software."
"So that's it then?" He held out his hands and shrugged. "There's no espionage? That's good news."
"You don't seem all that surprised." Veronica's eyes narrowed at his casual attitude. "Were you just using this case as an excuse?"
His brow furrowed. "I don't follow."
"To see me; to find a way back into my life?"
"Why would I need an excuse? You and me—"
"Just stop. There is no you and me. Whatever you think exists between us, you're wrong. I love Logan."
"Why are you acting like this?" Duncan stood there, looking almost amused by her statement.
The scene was suddenly too familiar for Veronica —her accusing Duncan and him turning it around on her— she wrapped her arms around herself and stumbled backward into the comforting warmth of Logan's chest. He wound his arm around her chest and pulled her closer, but it still wasn't enough. She had to get out of here. "Forget it, Duncan. Just fire Nigel, tell Celeste not to sell her stock, and keep Laurel the hell away from the Mannings."
