Autumn Dreams (15 page)

Greg pulled out his wallet. “You should know better than to ask.”

Cass oohed and aahed until Joe Masterson cleared his throat. His ears turning pink, Greg reverted to his professional persona, stuffing his wallet in his pocket and squaring his shoulders. “Do you have a Mr. Brian Novack staying here?”

Cass bit back a smile. She’d read Mr. Novack right. He was trying another con, only this one was going to get him into trouble.
Couldn’t happen to a more deserving man
. “Mr. and Mrs. Novack are staying in the third-floor turret room.”

“I need to speak to them,” Greg said.

Cass climbed to the third floor once again, knocking gently at the Novacks’ door.

“What?” Mr. Novack barked through the wood paneling.

“Someone to see you downstairs,” Cass said sweetly.

The door opened, and Mr. Novack stepped out wearing navy dress slacks and a yellow oxford cloth shirt with a little pony over his heart. “Who?”

Cass would have enjoyed saying, “The cops,” just to see his face, but she merely said, “I’m only bringing the message.”

Mr. Novack snorted and surged past her and down the steps. She followed, filled with the anticipation of his comeuppance.
It doesn’t say much about my character, but
 … She grinned.

He stopped abruptly when he saw who awaited him.

“Mr. Novack?” Greg Barnes stood tall and Cass was impressed with how authoritative he could be when he put his mind to it.

“What do you want?” Mr. Novack snarled. Clearly charm wasn’t the man’s strong suit.

“Did you have dinner this evening at Dante’s at the Dock?”

“The fancy side,” prompted Joe Masterson. “That’s important.”

“Dante’s at the Dock, you say?” Mr. Novack paused as if in thought. “Never heard of it.”

“Then how come we have your name on our reservation list?” Joe asked.

All eyes fastened on Mr. Novack. He fidgeted. “What if I did eat there? Surely that’s not a crime.”

“You forgot to pay your bill,” Joe said, his voice dripping dislike and more than a touch of anger.

“Is that true, Mr. Novack?” Greg asked, his face impassive.

“The waiter never gave it to me. How could I pay a bill that I didn’t have?”

“So you just left?” Greg stared as if he were appalled by such actions.

Mr. Novack’s cheeks flushed an unbecoming pink. “How do you know it’s me who didn’t pay?”

“You mean aside from the fact that you just admitted it?” Greg asked.

Joe stared at Mr. Novack as though he couldn’t believe such stupidity. “Our reservation list shows you were assigned a certain table. My manager saw you leaving as soon as you finished your last swallow of coffee. He knew you had been a pain of a customer, harassing your poor waiter, so he was watching you. You didn’t wait even two minutes for your bill, so he followed you. Then he called me to tell me where you’d gone, and I called the cops.”

“He followed me?” Mr. Novack had the nerve to look angry. He turned to Greg. “Isn’t that a violation of my right to privacy?”

Greg’s cold stare dropped to frigid. “Pay Mr. Masterson. Right now.”

“But I never got the bill. The service was lousy. The food was inferior.”

Joe glowered at the insults. “Then don’t leave a tip.”

“Pay the man.” Greg spread his feet and rested his hand on his gun. “Immediately.”

Cass was still smiling long after Greg and Joe left, and Mr. Novack, minus a substantial number of dollars—it was, after all, the fancy side—returned to his room.

No one ever said inn keeping was dull.

T
UCKER STARED AT
his grandfather in disbelief. One million dollars? He felt like knocking his hand against the side of his head to straighten out what must surely be defective hearing.

One million dollars!

“I put this money aside for you when you were born, Tucker, and for Sherri when your father married Patsi,” the old man said. “Sherri was just a baby then. So sweet. So cute.”

Tuck squirmed. The old man was right. Sherri had been cute and sweet, and from the moment she showed up, everyone forgot he was there. It was a clear case of along came the little princess, and the prince might as well have been a frog.

When his father remarried and presented Tuck with both a new mother and a baby sister, he didn’t want either. He’d liked having Hank all to himself, being spoiled and indulged and catered to. But then, who asked him what he wanted?

Sometimes he wondered about the jealousy he’d felt toward Sherri from the moment he’d first seen her, an adorable two-year-old with dimples and a smile to rival the sun in luminosity. Often resentment and envy-induced spite seized him by the throat and shook him like a dog would shake a favorite toy. When that happened, he visited her room until he found the
zing
,
showing her that she might be the favored one, but he was the one with the real power. Whether it was her favorite Barbie disappearing or her bike tires mysteriously going flat, he wanted her to suffer as he had suffered from her displacement of him as the favored and only child.

Such jealousy was supposed to be a character flaw, they all said so, whoever
they
were, but he’d decided they were all wrong. Jealousy made him strong. It gave him the strength to resent her, to withstand her charm, to begrudge any favor done her, to cause her as much subtle pain as possible.

But the frog-child was about to become a prince again. One million dollars!

Tuck looked at the old man with his paunchy belly, sad eyes, and skinny legs. He didn’t look like a millionaire, but he’d made a great fortune by getting in on the California postwar building boom. The only guys richer than Grandpa Cal were some of the movie moguls.

Even so, why was he willing to give away such a good-sized chunk of change? Sure, he had plenty of it. Sure, when he died, it had to go somewhere, but while he lived, why wasn’t he keeping it? It was a cinch Tuck would never part with a million for anyone.

Granddad Cal’s sad eyes filled, and his jowls swayed as he shook his head. “Sherri. Your little sister. I still can’t believe she’s gone, even after all this time.”

Yeah, yeah
. Tucker put on his sad face. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep a smile at bay. One million dollars!
And she’s not my sister, Cal. She’s my stepsister. Big difference
.

“Anyway, I arranged it that each of you would get your money when you turned twenty-five whether I was still alive or not. Your twenty-fifth birthday is today, Tucker.” He held out an envelope. “Here are the papers for the account opened in your name at the Wells Fargo bank downtown where I do all my business. You can move it wherever you want.”

Tuck took the plain white envelope with a slightly shaking hand. He stared at it. One million dollars. Hank and Patsi sat across the room watching and listening, their gift on the floor beside him—the keys to a new Grand Cherokee. Not that anyone needed four-wheel drive in southern California, but it would be fun for the off-road tracks in the mountains.

Tuck swallowed and stared at the birthday cake sitting on the coffee table, its candles half burned. He’d blown them all out in one breath, and that meant his wish should come true. Of course, none of his wishes had ever panned out in the past, at least until last year. Wishing that Sherri would disappear from his life had finally paid off. She was good and gone. And Granddad Cal’s million more than made up for all the other wishes that hadn’t come true through the years.

Tuck arranged his features to look properly appreciative. “I’m overwhelmed, Granddad.”

That statement at least was true. He’d expected something monetary. After all, the old fool had been hinting at it for some time. Tuck had been hoping against hope for one hundred thousand to bail him out of some bad debts and leave him some left over for fun. He’d been thinking too small. One million was the magic number!

Tuck looked across the backyard to smoggy L.A. in the distance. He allowed himself a brief daydream of white Caribbean beaches and turquoise water, slinky women and sleek boats. So long, congested freeways. Hello, warm winds and unpolluted skies. So long, nine to five. Hello, unlimited leisure.

Granddad Cal sniffed and used his handkerchief to dab at his weepy eyes. Tuck reached for the old man and gave his shoulders a squeeze. Who cared that the gesture was a lie? It ought to make Cal feel loved. Not that he hated Cal or wished him ill or anything. He just felt nothing for the old guy.

It occurred to Tuck that he felt nothing for anyone except himself, unless it was his hate for Sherri. There was undoubtedly a name for such a condition. Surely in all the years of therapy his father had put him through, he’d heard it. Narcissism? Whatever. All he knew was that he cared not at all for the people he was supposed to love—nor for anyone else either.

People existed to make him happy, to supply his needs, not to sap his emotions. Without even realizing it, Cal had fulfilled his purpose with flying colors. He had made Tucker very happy indeed.

Speaking of flying colors, Tuck’d get a yacht with those little pennants that rippled in the breezes. Yeah, a yacht, and one bigger than his father’s. A picture of a huge white boat rose in his mind. He’d live on it anchored in some tropical port and lie in the sun
with the women. He sighed in deep anticipation. Finally a life as he deserved.

“I’ve decided,” continued Granddad Cal after he put his handkerchief away, “that the money earmarked for Sherri on her twenty-fifth birthday will go to you if she isn’t found by then.”

Tuck blinked. Another million? Life didn’t get much cooler than this! He thought that he’d have to wait for Hank to die to have financial freedom, but Cal had preempted him. Tuck avoided looking at his father. Hank wouldn’t approve of the first million, let alone the second. These days Hank didn’t approve of anything much about Tuck.

“Of course Sherri’s twenty-fifth is five years from now,” Granddad Cal said. “A lot could happen in five years.” He looked hopeful.

Tuck tried to temper his excitement at the thought of a second million. He couldn’t show his excitement at the idea because that would mean he wanted Sherri to stay missing. Well, truth to tell, he did, but the family mustn’t know that. “Don’t give up hope, Granddad Cal. Don’t give up hope.”

Tuck’s father spoke. “Dad, do you think it’s a good idea to give Tuck so much at such a young age? Maybe you should funnel it to him a bit at a time.”

I knew it. Shut up, Hank!
“Dad,” Tuck said, his earnest face in place. “I’ll use the money well. I’ll invest it carefully. And I’ll keep working at the office because I know that I need structure and strong goals.”

Hank, who had made his own mark in the world by getting in on the new and burgeoning electronics phenomenon years ago, nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

“And I hope Sherri comes home soon.” Inspiration struck him. “Why, I’ll use part of my money to find her.”

Hank gave that little wry half smile that meant he didn’t believe Tuck, but he said nothing.

So where was little Sherri? He hadn’t been overly worried about her for months because he figured she was dead, her body and the body of her boyfriend Kevin hidden somewhere.

Then those strange phone calls started, and he was no longer quite so sure. Dear, departed Sherri might not be so departed after all.

S
UNDAY MORNING DAN
stood in the kitchen at SeaSong and tried not to squirm. He glanced at his watch once again and made a low growling sound in his throat. They were going to be late for church. He hated to be late for anything, but especially church. It probably came from being a pastor’s kid with a mother who thought the pastor’s family being late was tantamount to heresy.

Cass grinned at his frustration. “It’s obvious you never had a sister. Jenn will be here in a minute.”

“Maybe. If we’re lucky.” Jared pulled a box of Honeycomb cereal from the cabinet beside the refrigerator and began to eat it by the fistful. “But I’m not holding my breath.” He appeared unmindful of the crumbs that fell in a gentle snowfall onto the front of his deep green rugby shirt with
Seaside
in discreet lettering over his heart, then rolled with the help of gravity to the floor.

“Hey!” Brenna said from the sink, pointing a finger at Jared. “Outside with that mess.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jared just grinned at her and kept chomping.

“I’m not sweeping up your mess, buddy,” she said, trying to look threatening.

“You need a dog around here, Cass.” Dan glanced at Glossy Flossie slumbering on the back of a love seat
in the sitting area. “A dog would lick all those crumbs up instead of sleeping his life away like someone I could mention.”

“Hey, now.” Cass put her hands on her hips and glared at Dan. Only the sparkle in her eye told him she wasn’t serious. “Don’t you denigrate my baby. Besides, what would the health authorities say about a dog in a serving kitchen?”

“Probably the same thing they’d say about a cat,” Dan muttered.

Footsteps sounded on the back stairs, and everyone except Flossie looked up expectantly.

“See?” Cass said. “I told you she’d only be a minute.”

Abruptly the footfalls stopped and a muted “Rats,” could be heard. Then the steps echoed their way back upstairs.

“At this rate, we’ll be in time for the final amen,” Jared said cheerfully. “That’s still in time to go out to eat.”

The bell on the registration desk sounded at the same time Jenn began another descent of the stairs.

“That should be the Novacks checking out.” Cass started toward the swinging door. “Let me take care of them. I’ll be quick.”

Dan grabbed her wrist as she passed. He held his watch in front of her nose. “Let Brenna take care of them.”

Brenna nodded. “I’ll be glad to. Mr. Novack doesn’t scare me now that I know what kind of a man he is. In fact, it’ll be good experience to see if I can sneer politely at him.”

“Thanks, Brenna.” Dan dragged Cass toward the back door. “Hurry, woman,” he hissed. “Jenn is actually walking toward the car. This may be our one and only opportunity before she remembers something else she needs. Or thinks she needs.”