Celebration (28 page)

“That's what Carol says. Two against one, and I'm not even holding out. I agree with everything you said.”

“Mom sold the Kelly farm. She told you, didn't she?”

“Yeah.”

“She's dividing the money among us. We can pay off our mortgages, put some away for the kids' college fund, and sock the rest into a good mutual fund. Those are Mom's suggestions, not mine, but I agree with them. I probably wouldn't be able to accept if Mom hadn't had him declared legally dead. Dead I can handle. How about you?”

“I agree. The money will certainly make life easier.”

“Mike, why don't you come back here to live. The farm is great for the kids. Mom has been talking about expanding. You get along with Pete, and I adore Carol. It would be so good for all of us. We could even use some of the money for the expansion and we can do a lot of the work ourselves. Will you think about it?”

“Did Mom put you up to this?”

“No, and don't say I even mentioned it. You need to start thinking about earthquakes and all that smog. What kind of place is that to bring up kids? Not to mention the perverts. I know there are perverts everywhere, but my one encounter happened there and I'm not likely to forget it.”

“I'll think about it. What do you think they're doing down there?”

“Playing with the pups. Mom often goes down when she can't sleep. I used to find her curled up in the straw with six or seven of them all cuddled against her. Our Mom is an okay lady, Mike. And if she's doing something else, so what!”

Mike laughed. “You're right, Cala, so what! God, it's good to see you. It's even better to be home. This is home. It really is.”

“I know. I had a hard time saying the words at first. Then they just started rolling off my lips.”

“Home. It has a sweet, comforting sound to it. Home.”

“We go home, Mommie?” Ellie asked sleepily.

“No, honey. We're staying here in my home tonight.”

“Oh, goodie.” A moment later she was asleep in her father's arms.

Home.

The most wonderful word in the English language.

Logan literally tripped down the street, his face buried in the wool scarf around his neck. His world was right side up, and he was going home to his loving, devoted wife. His hold on his briefcase that held his laptop was fierce. The laptop was something he could not afford to lose. It was as necessary to his life as were his heart and lungs. He should have given some thought to getting one of those gizmos to shackle it to his wrist. As long as his hold was secure, the case was safe. He needed coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Perhaps a pastry or two.

His steps were brisk in the crunchy snow. Aside from the fact that he was freezing his ass off, he felt wonderful. His financial affairs were in order. His medical examination was golden, and he was going back to the States.
The prodigal returns,
he thought gleefully.

Wind and sleet spit in his face as he continued his walk. He needed to get out of the cold. His blood had thinned with his years in Africa, and he hated the cold. He wondered if it was snowing back in Virginia.

A young woman as bundled up as he was, jostled him, her arms full of Christmas packages. She smiled as she muttered an apology. Logan nodded curtly. He smelled the rich pastries before he saw the shop. He sucked in the heady aroma and his step quickened.

The small shop was full, which meant he would have to lean up against the counter to wolf down the pastries and guzzle his three or four coffees. That was okay. Sooner or later, someone would get up from the row of stools. Nothing was going to sour this day.

Logan loosened the heavy wool scarf and unbuttoned his overcoat, mindful of the approving glances he was getting from the shopgirls on their midmorning break. He preened. In the last three weeks he'd dropped twelve pounds, had his hair lightened and trimmed, and managed to keep his deep tan with the help of a tanning bed in the hotel. His blue eyes were brighter than Paul Newman's along with thanks to a good optometrist and contact lenses. He looked good, and he knew it. He smiled at the shopgirls, who were flirting openly with him. He knew he could have any one of them by simply starting up a conversation on something as mundane as the weather. Unfortunately, today was the wrong day for fun and games. Today was the day he was leaving Zurich for the States. Today was the day he was heading home to his family. Back to his wife with all that glorious money. Back to his children, who probably hated his guts. Back to his next game plan.

Home for Christmas. Just the way he'd promised. Eight years late. So what! He'd never said what
year
he was going to return. He'd always been a man of his word. He hoped he would remember to put his wedding ring on once he got settled on the plane. That would be the first thing Kristine would look for.

Logan stared through the steamed-up window. It was snowing lightly. He had three hours to kill until it was time to leave for the airport. All he had to do was check out of the hotel, pay his bill, and grab a bite of lunch. By this time tomorrow he would be on American soil.

A frown built on Logan's forehead as all of the “what ifs” surfaced in his mind. He gave himself a mental kick. He should have run some kind of check on his wife and family so he knew ahead of time what he was walking into. He'd never been one to do anything on impulse. When you did things spontaneously, they always backfired. He'd learned early on to be precise, to map things out, go by the book. The book was always on target. A worm of fear crawled around his belly. It disappeared the moment one of the shopgirls smiled, and said, “Merry Christmas.” He acknowledged the greeting with a wide grin. Nineteen if she was a day. Her eyes looked older and wiser than Danela's.

He'd been thinking of Danela a lot these past few weeks, wondering how she was doing and how many of the CPAs she'd fucked while on the safari. Was she in London now shopping? She'd land on her feet. The Danelas of the world always landed on their feet.

The pastry shop cleared suddenly. A blast of cold air whipped through the small shop, and Logan shivered as he moved to the last stool along the counter to get away from the arctic air. He held out his coffee cup for a refill and pointed to the strudel under the glass dome. He was uncertain as to why he was reluctant to leave the warm, fragrant shop.

For the first time in his life, Logan Kelly felt uncertain about what he was about to do. His thoughts turned to Danela. Was it even remotely possible that he had underestimated the voluptuous woman? He started to shake inside his heavy wool coat as he racked his brain for a mistake he'd made along the way. He needed both hands to hold the heavy coffee mug, the briefcase with his laptop clutched between his knees. What
was
she doing?

 

 

Danela peeled off her khaki jumpsuit, dropping it on the bedroom floor. All she wanted was a hot shower and to wash her hair. Afterward, she wanted a hot gardenia-scented bath with a glass of wine. Perhaps two glasses, maybe even the whole damn bottle, after which she would dress in a skintight minidress for the drive to the airport with her safari group. “Logan, are you here!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. Where the hell was he? “Logan,” she called a second time. Where were the servants? Why was it so quiet? Her naked shoulders stiffened when she saw the empty vanity. Then her eyes narrowed until they resembled gun slits.

Naked, she ran back to the bedroom, where she opened drawers and closets. She knew to an item what should be where. Underwear, socks, tee shirts, and the winter clothing kept in garment bags were gone. She raced through the rest of the house, shouting and cursing, her heavy breasts bouncing against her rib cage.

In the kitchen she opened the refrigerator. Empty. The room was spotless. There was no mail on the kitchen counter. She picked up the phone to find it was disconnected. Not caring if anyone saw her or not, she went out to the car in the garage to use her cell phone. She dialed the office and waited, her bare foot kicking at the tires of her car. “Answer the phone, Logan,” she hissed. “Damn you! Damn you to hell!” she spit. Then she heard Logan's recorded message.
“Jambo!
Due to circumstances beyond our control, Eberhart Safaris is now officially closed. Danela and I want to thank all our loyal customers for eight wonderful years.
Kwaheri!”

“You son of a bitch!” Danela screamed as she stomped her way back to the bathroom, where she showered and washed her hair. Thirty minutes later, dressed in a khaki sundress, her wet hair piled into a knot on top of her head, she drove to the offices of Eberhart Safaris. She sucked in her breath when she saw that Logan's laptop was gone. The bottom desk drawer that was always locked was open but empty—the drawer where Logan kept things he didn't want her to see, things she'd always wondered about but had been afraid to tamper with.

Danela sat down with a thump in Logan's customized swivel chair. Everything Logan owned was either one of a kind or custom-made. She picked up the phone and listened for the dial tone. She called the bank, rattled off the number of her checking account. She held her breath while she listened to the response. She had $25,010 in her account. Her airline ticket to London stared up at her from the desk blotter. She cried then. Eight years gone. Her five million dollars was gone. All she had to show for her time with Logan Kilpatrick was $25,010, an airline ticket, and the clothes in her closet. “You fucking son of a bitch!” she screamed. “How could you do this to me? How?”

She needed to get hold of herself. She still had one thing left to do. In the bathroom off the main office, Danela washed her face with cool water, soaking her eyes with a cool cloth so the CPAs wouldn't see she had been crying. If nothing else, she had some pride left. She was never going to see them again once she dropped them off at the airport. Like Logan said, who gives a good rat's ass! She plastered on makeup and spritzed perfume all over her body.

She needed a stiff drink. Her gaze went to the portable bar with the crystal decanters. An inch of scotch remained in one decanter. Not bothering to use a glass, Danela swigged from the ornate bottle until her eyes watered. “You stinking, lousy, prick! If I ever find you, I swear to God, I will personally carve off your balls!” she screamed to the empty room. She proceeded to rant and rave until she was too tired to open her mouth.

When the phone rang, Danela thought twice before she picked it up. Her voice was husky-sounding from all the crying she'd done.
“Jambo,
” she said.

“Danela, this is Stephen Douglas. We're ready to leave for the airport. Not that we want to leave, but duty calls. That safari, thanks to you, is something none of us will ever forget. You sound funny, is anything wrong?”

“Everything you can possibly imagine is wrong. My partner skipped out on me and left me holding the bag while we were gone. It's not your problem, Stephen. Give me twenty minutes, and I'll be there. Be sure all your baggage is properly tagged and have your airport tax money ready. I'm going to leave now, but I have to stop for gas.”

Danela wiped at her tears. It was going to be so hard to say good-bye to all the accountants. They'd all been gentlemen and while they had flirted with her openly, none had crossed the line, and for that she was grateful. Now they were going to return to their homes and pick up their lives while she did what? How long was twenty-five thousand dollars going to last her? Should she stay here, hire on to one of the other companies, or leave Africa completely? At her age, her party-girl skills wouldn't be much of an asset to her. If she went to England, would she get a job as a shopgirl and live in a mean little flat with no hot water? Tears burned her eyes. “If I ever find you, Logan, I swear, I will kill you and then hack your body to pieces.”

“Merry Christmas, Danela,” she whispered.

Thirty minutes later, Danela slowed the safari bus to a smooth stop. She could see that the men were chattering like magpies. They were probably discussing her and feeling sorry for her.

Her head high, a forced smile on her lips, Danela climbed from the bus, the soft khaki dress swirling about her ankles as she walked around to the back of the bus to open the door. She tried for a cheerful tone when she said, “Pile in, gentlemen.” They did as instructed, now strangely quiet.

“Danela, can we talk to you a minute?”

Still working on her light tone, she queried, “Okay, which one of you forgot your souvenirs?”

“That's not it. We want to delay our return for a day or so. If we pay the difference in our tickets, can it be arranged? A bribe ...” Douglas let his words hang in the air.

“I suppose it can be arranged. What is it you want to do?”

“Help you.”

“That's very kind of you, but it isn't necessary. I'll be all right.”

“Do you have any money? Do you own anything? You said you're from Italy but hold dual citizenship. Do you have family there, here or in the States?”

“No to everything. I had five million dollars once. My partner managed to lose it all in the business.”

“That's what we're talking about. We're number crunchers. It's what we do for a living. You must have a set of books. We want to go through them. Let us help you. It's the least we can do. You've given us a memory for a lifetime. We talked it over, and we're all in agreement. There's twenty-four of us. That means twenty-four sets of eyes. Let us do this for you.”

“I'll manage. I'm not afraid to work.
Penye nai ipo nija.
That's Swahili for where there's a will there is a way. Seriously, you don't need to do this. I appreciate your offer, and I know your hearts are in the right place. Logan's gone, and so is the money. We'll never find him. He did it once before, but I was too stupid at the time to figure it out until it was too late. I loved him, so I wanted to believe in him. I had a premonition this was going to happen.”

Douglas ignored her words. “We can camp out in your offices and leave tomorrow or the next day. You handle the plane reservations and all of us will go through your partner's books. There are books, aren't there?”

“Of a sort. Logan kept everything on the computer. I'm sure he wiped out the hard drive and has it all on disk. His laptop is gone. He never went anywhere without that damn thing. That should have been my first clue.”

“Sometimes people think they're too smart for their own good. They
think
if they erase their files they're gone. There are ways to get them back, and Brian here is just the guy to go after them. He did a stint with the FBI for four years before going out on his own. If there are files to be found, he'll find them.”

For the first time since returning to find Logan gone, Danela felt a sense of hope. Stephen was a nice man, the leader of the pack so to speak. All the others, young as well as the middle-aged accountants, seemed to defer to him. He was soft-spoken, with dark brown eyes and sandy hair. He was one of those rare people who looked better in glasses than without. He settled his safari hat more firmly on his head. “So, do we give it a go or what?”

Danela shrugged. “Logan is clever. He set this all up before we even left. I guess he had been planning it for a while. I would like to get my money back if that's possible. I'd settle for half. Okay, let's go for it.”

“Let's get one thing straight. You never settle for half when you can get it all. Just so you know, we aren't a bunch of
schmucks.
We do the taxes for just about every important government official inside the Beltway. All of us are at a point in our business careers where we aren't taking on any new clients. You are the exception. We aren't even going to charge you.” He laughed, and Danela grinned.

“Get in the bus! I'll show you where everything is and then I'll get us some food and drinks. It might be better if I go to the airport to change your reservations, so I'll need your tickets and passports.”