Chapter 3 #2
“Of course they could have disabled one of the cameras and then fixed it again on their way out, but they’d have to know where the cameras were and that might take some doing without close inspection,” Dane said.
“You checked the cameras at the neighbors’ too?” Cap said.
“We’re very thorough,” Shana said.
“I could have saved you the trouble—we already looked at their systems and checked all the videos.”
“Sure, but you weren’t getting paid two hundred bucks an hour,” Shana said. She winked. Cap laughed.
“We didn’t get to the good part yet,” Shana said.
“Don’t jump to a quick conclusion, girlie—if you do that you’ll cut your opportunity for more fees,” Dane said. “And you might miss catching the real thief.”
“Dane is kidding, but I’m not when I say we already have a suspect and you’ll never guess who it is.”
“Angelique Dubois—niece of Jean Luc Ruse,” Cap said.
Shana stared at him, mute for a millisecond. “You knew she was here?” She sounded like she was accusing Cap of being a baby murderer.
“I suspect Cap didn’t know long before we found out. Which was exactly when she wanted us to know.”
“We finished up interviewing guests from the last soirée today and she was one of the last. The detective who interviewed her popped into my office just before I came over to give me a message from her—from Jean Luc, actually. Apparently he says hello,” Cap said.
“She’s a piece of work. She probably figured if she pretended to know you the detective questioning her would get distracted from his task,” Shana said.
She stood and started pacing around like a restless tiger. Normally Dane enjoyed her restless tiger mood, but this time he didn’t think he was the one making her restless.
“What’s bothering you?” Cap asked.
“She’s arrogant.” Shana stopped her pacing and picked up her glass of beer. “It’s that obnoxious brand of elitist arrogance that I especially hate. She’s a flaunter.” She knocked back half the glass.
Dane didn’t know if he wanted her to chug the whole thing down so he could convince her to work out her agitation on him, or if he wanted to grab the drink away from her and make her calm down.
Either way, it was a challenge not to be distracted by the trickles of perspiration sliding down her neck over her collarbone and disappearing into the shadowy dip between her breasts and beneath her tank top.
“You think Dubois is your thief?” Cap said. He sounded skeptical.
“You don’t think it’s coincidence that she shows up—with her grand hello from Jean Luc—and we just happen to have a rash of jewel thefts at the same time?” Shana said.
Dane said, “The safe was top notch and would take some time and skill to crack, but I figure it could be done if you were a guest wandering upstairs—or maybe a security guard.”
“So we agree—she looks good for an inside job.”
“Possibly,” Dane said.
“I think we have our prime suspect,” Shana said.
Dane held his patience and repeated himself. “Don’t jump to conclusions because you might miss something.”
Cap said, “She could have a partner.”
“Like that,” Dane said.
Shana shot a look at him and smiled.
“What?” he said.
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
“I didn’t say it was Angelique parading around as a guest and sneaking up to the safe—it could just as easily be someone from the catering staff or more likely the security staff. Like Cap said, if it’s her, then we need to look for a partner.”
“We’re checking on Ms. Dubois’s arrival on the island to see if she was here for all the thefts.
We’re checking on everyone but we haven’t completed our background checks on all the staff for the last three parties—they used almost the identical list of employees—but I’ll let you know if I spot anything,” Cap said.
“In the meantime, I got a call from the insurance company—they’re sending someone. ”
“Damn. I hope that doesn’t interfere with our case.” Shana looked at him and he saw the flicker of panic underneath the sheen of annoyance.
“Don’t worry, girlie. We have the advantage of having a personal connection with the prime suspect.”
Dane reached a hand out and pushed a tendril caught in the perspiration from her brow. She didn’t flinch, but she did back away. He was the one that flinched. The tightness in his shoulders sharpened.
Cap snorted. “If Angelique Dubois is an international jewel thief, the insurance people would know. But they have a detailed list and pictures of the missing jewels—something I didn’t get from the victims. Maybe they’ll share.”
“Why are you skeptical?” Shana asked Cap.
“I’m suspicious of the obvious. Angelique is worse than obvious.”
“Like I said—she’s a flaunter,” Shana said. “She’s taunting us. It’s like she has some kind of grudge. She probably also has an ace up her sleeve. Jean Luc must have told her something to make her hate us—and to give her an advantage.”
“Or he told her something to make her relish the challenge,” Dane said.
“So you do think it’s her,” Shana said. She folded her arms across her chest, hiding the trickle of sweat and the rest of what was distracting him.
“I’m not as certain as you. I’m with Cap. Hard to believe she’d be that obvious—knowing her motive would be key. We need to know more about her. Get her story.”
“I agree. There’s something missing,” Shana said.
“I enjoy a taunt as much as the next guy—probably more,” said Dane, “But if Angelique Dubois is the thief and she is putting herself purposely in our path to stick her tongue out at us, so to speak, then she’s either crazy, or she has some kind of serious agenda.”
“Or both,” Shana said. She unfolded her arms and leaned down to pick up her half-empty glass. “It was no coincidence that she showed up at the dress shop. Jean Luc knew that dress shop.”
Dane stepped closer. She said under her breath, “Stop staring. Even if I were in the mood, and even if you were the last man on earth, it’s far too hot.”
Dane flashed a glance at Cap to see if he’d heard her. Probably not.
“What the hell?” Dane breathed close to her ear, taking in her scent intensified by the heat.
“You heard me.” She said this out loud so that Cap heard her. He’d witnessed the exchange anyway. He was shaking his head.
Cap stood. “I’m not staying around to watch you two and your endless sparring.”
“Don’t leave yet,” Shana said.
“Let the man go. Maybe I’ll go too.” He left the words I know when I’m not wanted unspoken.
“Don’t pretend to be hurt,” she said.
He didn’t move. He downed the rest of his beer.
He didn’t get it. He’d thought they were on good terms. His heart thudded hard and slow as if his blood were made of molasses.
He pushed his hand through his hair. His palms were sweaty.
Probably from the heavy heat. More likely from staring at Shana.
Looking toward the harbor, he thought of jumping in for a swim. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’ll call you if I come up with anything—you do the same.” Cap saluted and disappeared around the corner of the house.
Shana stood with her empty glass in hand. He reached out and grabbed her hand and yanked her with him across the short expanse of grass to the pier.
“What are you doing? You planning to throw me in?” She stumbled along, not exactly resisting, not going easy either.
“Don’t tempt me. I just want to put my feet in the water and cool off and—” He stopped.
He didn’t know what. He wanted to talk? Not really.
He wanted her to talk, to tell him what was wrong—to tell him she was his for as long as he wanted with no strings?
Not damn likely. Her arm was hot and slick with sweat where he’d grabbed her.
Her skin felt like it did after a bout of lovemaking.
It had been too long and he’d thought that might change now. Wrong.
They stopped at the end of the narrow wooden pier and he sat, pulling her down with him. Twilight was falling and the mosquitoes were out, but Dane didn’t care. The house was too hot and stifling.
“Okay—we’re here—what do you want, Dane?” she sighed heavily as if breathing were hard. As if everything was difficult and she was weary.
A hot burst suddenly shot through in his chest like electric paddles that stimulated his heart to a racing beat from the mild trot where it had been. She was tired of him.
“You want to leave, Shana?” He asked against his own will, sounding calm. He stopped breathing and watched her.
“Do I—I don’t know. I never know. My mother, my brothers…”
She stopped talking and looked out at the water. It was just as well. He wouldn’t hear whatever she said now because his blood pulsed so loudly, pounding at his temples. He breathed in deep. The sea air was still and heavy. It didn’t have the usual calming effect. Or maybe he was too far gone.
“I wish this weather would break,” she said.
“You’re making no sense.”
She shrugged. Not a good sign. There should have been a spark of anger in response. Something.
He lifted himself off the edge of the pier, pulled his shirt over his head, emptied his pockets, and dove into the water.