Chapter 4
Katherine Taylor sits disconnected, having spent fifteen minutes in front of Preston Bradford—the client who reported the stolen watch—listening to him repeat over and over how unacceptable it is for something like this to happen at a prestigious hotel like the Mallois.
"Well?" Bradford says, crossing one leg over the other.
They're in the hotel lobby, seated on one of many crescent-shaped sofas in front of a small marble table where service has just delivered the second glass of one of the most expensive whiskeys Bradford has ordered, knowing Katherine won't let them charge him for it. Katherine snaps out of her reverie to find Preston Bradford watching her with a smile she's not sure she likes, but what she does know is that the man expects her to speak.
"I'm very sorry about what happened, Mr. Preston," Katherine says, fidgeting with her wristwatch.
Preston Bradford's eyes travel across Katherine's fitted jacket to rest on her hands, then move to her legs covered by a pencil skirt below her knees.
"My head of security is handling the matter, and I assure you we'll have an answer to this unfortunate incident shortly."
"Haven't you called the police?" Bradford asks, offended. "It's obvious that cleaning lady stole from me. It wouldn't be the first time these women take what isn't theirs thinking nobody will notice. Damn fools," he adds, clicking his tongue, "as if they didn't get enough from the tips we give them."
Katherine can't tell him what she thinks about people who believe they're superior to others because he's her client, but she won't play along or let him continue talking about the cleaning staff like that in front of her.
"If necessary, we'll notify the police, don't worry. Meanwhile, I've made sure you're assigned a new room with the best views, and you can enjoy the hotel facilities at your discretion, on the house. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure this incident is resolved as soon as possible."
Katherine stands up just as Preston Bradford adds some words, but she can't tell if they're of gratitude or more complaints because she leaves him sitting on the sofa and heads to the elevators to go straight to the security room.
"Please tell me you have something because if I have to deal with that man again, I might lose it," she growls as soon as she enters the room.
Mike, who asked the security guard to take a break while he checks the footage for anything that might help them discover what happened, turns toward the entrance with a mysterious smile that immediately calms Katherine.
"Got anything?" she asks, narrowing her blue eyes.
"I do, and you won't like it," Mike responds, pulling up a chair for his boss and friend to sit beside him.
"Don't tell me it was really Jodie Sinclair," Katherine says, not understanding why it causes her such disappointment when she doesn't even know her.
"Sinclair? No," Mike firmly denies, "Sinclair's just a poor cleaning lady they're trying to pin this on."
"Then?" Katherine asks with a mix of relief and fury beginning to course through her veins.
"Look at this carefully."
Mike shows her the photo of the stolen watch that Preston Bradford himself provided.
"This guy isn't just a liar, he's stupid," Mike says, leaving Katherine bewildered.
The hotel owner observes the photograph and then the images Mike shows her on the screen.
"This is Preston leaving his room before the watch was stolen, right?" he asks her, and she nods, controlling her anxiety to finally know what happened. "And this here is Sinclair entering some time later."
Mike advances the footage.
"And here Sinclair leaves, and an hour later Bradford returns and reports the watch missing."
"You're making me nervous, Mike," Katherine says, crossing her arms.
Mike smiles, unable to contain himself.
"Okay," he concedes without losing his smile and returns to the first image.
"The key to everything is right here, the moment Preston leaves the room the first time, because if we pause the image and zoom in..."
Mike does exactly what he says, and Katherine's mouth slowly drops open.
"I can't believe it, is it what I think it is?" she asks tensely.
"It is. Preston Bradford was wearing the watch when he left the room, so neither Jodie Sinclair nor anyone else in this hotel could have stolen it," Mike assures.
"Then why the hell did he report it?" Katherine frowns.
"Well, I can only think of two possibilities: either he's confused or he's faking it to collect insurance. Those watches cost an arm and a leg," he says, shrugging.
"What a son of a bitch," Katherine says, standing up abruptly. "He wasn't wearing it when I talked to him, which means he hid it afterward to claim it was stolen."
"I'll go with you," Mike says, standing up.
"No need, I can throw this guy out of my hotel by myself," she says angrily.
"I know, I'm not saying it for your safety, I'm saying it for his."
Mike Foster stands six feet three inches tall, and with his athletic build and perpetually serious expression, he usually commands respect, but now, walking one step behind Katherine Taylor toward the manager's office where they've summoned Preston Bradford, she's the scarier one.
Katherine enters like a hurricane and fires off everything Mike discovered in an icy voice. Preston, who wasn't expecting this, takes time to react, but after a few minutes, he does, claiming all sorts of excuses.
"This is offensive," he adds, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat dripping down his left temple.
"Of course it is," Katherine says, "I'm offended that you dare come to my hotel spreading your lies without caring how it affects an innocent person's life. I'll think about whether to press charges, but meanwhile, I don't want to see you here or in any of my hotels or my sister's cruises again. I'll make sure your name goes on the blacklist, and of course, you won't leave until you pay every last dollar of what you've consumed. Mike will handle that."
Preston Bradford is about to open his mouth, but Mike plants himself in front of him.
"If you'll be so kind as to follow me," he requests, pointing to the door.
Katherine waits for both men to leave before turning to Lamir Kumar, the hotel manager.
"Find me Jodie Sinclair's address, someone needs to apologize to that woman."
"Of course, I'll send someone to her house," the man responds while typing on the computer.
"You misunderstood me, Lamir. I don't want you to send anyone, I'll go personally."
"Of course, yes, excuse me, Mrs. Taylor," says Lamir, blinking in surprise.