Luxury Model Wife (18 page)

He met Jimmy’s eyes. His old friend dabbed at his face a final time and reached for clean bandages, but not before Steve read his expression. Steve knew that look. Jimmy was feeling guilty about something.

“So you have no idea who attacked Victoria?”

Jimmy glanced from Steve to Victoria and parried the question. “You were together when it happened?”

Victoria nodded. “At a club.”

There it was, out in the open.

Jimmy swung back to glare at Steve. “
Dating
the widow?” His eyes glittered with contempt.

Steve bristled. “This has nothing to do with you. Let it go.”

Jimmy resumed patching up Steve’s face with an angry hitch of breath.

Steve spoke through clenched teeth. “It’s been more than six years. I’ve said I’m sorry a hundred times. We may never be friends again, but my feelings for Victoria are real. This isn’t some game I’m playing.”

Jimmy continued as if he hadn’t heard, checked Steve’s ribs, and squeezed hard, probably on purpose.

“Damn.” Steve winced. “Your bedside manner sucks.”

His old friend ignored the jibe. “Your ribs are bruised, might be fractured. I doubt they’re broken. In any case, there’s really nothing you can do except let them heal on their own.”

“Sounds like the prescription for a fucked-up friendship, too.” He looked up and met Jimmy’s stare.

To his surprise, Jimmy cracked a smile. “Let me see your hands.” He swabbed Steve’s swollen knuckles with disinfectant, checked the bruises, and applied ointment. “I think you’ll live.”

Steve pulled his hand free and tried to stand. He wanted to get the hell out of this house. When he stood, the room spun, and a walloping migraine burst through his head like fireworks. “Whoa.”

Jimmy steadied him on his feet. “Stay put. Get some rest. I’ll give you something for the pain.”

Jimmy turned toward Victoria. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No way.” Steve blinked hard, trying to clear his brain.

Jimmy went to a closet and removed a blanket and pillow. “You don’t have more than a level one concussion, so it’s safe to sleep. Rest is your best medicine. I’ll check on you later.”

Victoria lowered Steve on the couch and covered him with the blanket. “Jimmy’s right. You need someone to check on you. Just for tonight.”

“No way am I staying here.” The Italian leather cushions massaged his sore muscles and soothed his abraded skin like a raft in a pool on a summer day.

“Do it anyway, since Victoria asked,” Jimmy replied. He gave Steve pills to swallow.

Victoria kissed Steve’s cheek. “It’ll be okay. See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll rest, but only for a few damn minutes. Then I’ll drive myself home.”

The next thing he knew, someone snored.

*****

Victoria got into Jimmy’s car. “Thanks for taking care of Steve. He really didn’t deserve to take a beating.”

“Wish I’d been the one to do it.” Jimmy pressed the garage door opener and started the engine.

Victoria let out a sigh. “Get over yourself, Jimmy. Haven’t you punished him enough? He cares about you. And he cares about me.”

“He cares about himself.”

“You’re still acting like a kid. Steve’s a good man. You know he is.”

Jimmy said nothing for a long time. He drove through the streets of West Chester toward the Van Orr estate while the tension between them swelled to the breaking point.

Victoria cracked first. “I found a way to honor your father’s memory by hosting a charity auction, for which Steve has agreed to forfeit his commission. He wants to help.”

“Steve did that?” Jimmy frowned with obvious disbelief.

“It was his idea.”

Jimmy said nothing as he pulled into Victoria’s driveway and parked. “And what about you? What do you get?”

“I didn’t marry your father for his money. I never considered his things mine. I loved James, and I always will. I want to give him the respect he deserves.”

“So what are you proposing?”

“Accept that I’m working with the Carlsons. Be on my side, for once.”

Jimmy looked away to stare out his window and Victoria let him be.

Finally, he spoke. “It was rough seeing Steve tonight. But not as bad as I thought it might be.”

Victoria smiled. “There’s nothing like a bar brawl to bond men.”

Jimmy chuckled and turned back to her. The sound of his laughter broke the remaining tension in the car.

He kneaded his brow as if rubbing away a world of worry. “I know I’ve been a jerk. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. My father would have pounded me into pulp if he were alive. He loved you very much.”

Relief flooded her, causing an odd mix of elation and overwhelming weariness. As soon as she got inside, she’d head straight to bed.

Victoria leaned over and gave Jimmy a quick hug. “Thanks.”

Chapter Eleven

The phone on her bedside table rang and woke her. Victoria glanced at the clock. Eight a.m. She’d only been sleeping a few hours.

Beverly’s voice boomed through the cell phone. “Come to the store, quick. We’ve been robbed.”

Victoria struggled to take in oxygen.

Beverly continued to holler. “I’ve been trying to reach Steve, but he doesn’t answer his cell. I called the police. They’re on their way.”

Victoria fought off the immobilizing panic that threatened to consume her. She had to stay in control and help Beverly. “I’ll find Steve. We’ll meet you at the shop. Be there in twenty minutes.”

Beverly sobbed. “We’re cleaned out. Your stuff is gone, Vic.” She burst into tears.

Oh God, will James and Lydia ever forgive me?

Victoria swallowed her anxiety. “Don’t worry about that now.” Her pulse raced with her next thought. “Is Pirate all right?”

“He’s fine. Swinging in his cage.”

Victoria sighed with relief. “Well, that’s good news, at least. I’ll be right there.” She hurried out of bed and rifled through her clothes closet.

Ten minutes later, she careened down Market Street toward the emporium. She speed dialed Jimmy’s private cell number.

He answered on the second ring. “Dr. Van Orr.”

“It’s Victoria. We have an emergency. I need to find Steve right away.”

“He left my house about half an hour ago. Said he was stopping at the diner for coffee.”

“Can you meet us at Carlson’s?”

“What’s wrong? I’m on my way to an appointment.”

“We’ve been robbed, Jimmy. Someone burglarized Carlson’s store. They took the Van Orr collections among other things.”

Jimmy cursed into the phone. “Dad’s stuff is gone?” A pause followed. “Okay, I’ll be right over.”

Victoria turned left at the next light and headed toward the diner. She parked in the lot and ran through the front door. The diner was crowded, but she had no trouble spotting Steve at the counter.

His face was swollen and bruised beneath his bandages. A waitress poured him a fresh cup of coffee with a sympathetic twinkle in her eyes.

Victoria rushed to his side.

Steve turned on his stool and grinned at her, but grimaced with the effort. “Morning, beautiful.”

She spoke fast. “Beverly’s been trying to reach you. You didn’t answer your cell.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket. “It’s on vibrate. I didn’t notice. Sorry.” He lifted his coffee cup. “Want breakfast?”

“No. We have to leave. Right now. Something terrible has happened.”

He paled beneath his bloody bruises. “Something
else
?”

“We need to get to your store. The police are on their way.”

He heaved himself off the stool and threw money on the counter.

“What’s going on?” He asked as they headed toward the exit. A deep frown creased his brow.

“We’ve been robbed.”

Steve stopped short and swore. “Not again.”

“What do you mean,
again
?”

He let out a curse. “This will be the third time.”

She fought back tears of frustration and loss. “And that’s something you forgot to mention when you accepted my consignment?”

He lifted a hand. “The former break-ins didn’t amount to serious losses. Still, I had the store and the warehouse secured with a new system. I was assured they’d been burglar-proofed. I doubled my insurance and the police have picked up patrols. I thought everything would be safe.”

“Well, you were
wrong
.” He should have told her about the previous thefts. Safety was her personal hot-button issue. “I trusted you with James’s belongings. I fought for the right to work with you.”

“I’m sorry, Victoria. Believe me, I never would have taken your consignment if I had doubts about my security. The system is state of the art.”

His eyes were filled with despair, and she was sorry for that, too, but her bigger concern was her after-death promise to James. She’d vowed to do right by him and wondered how she could have been distracted from her husband, even for a moment. James had given her so much and she had let him down. She’d failed.

A new form of misery filled her.

“Please, I—”

“I’ll see you at the shop to meet with the police. After that—I don’t know.”

*****

Officer Wilson arrived at Carlson’s Antiques Emporium with his partner to take a statement. Steve walked around the shop with him, pointing out empty spaces where the stolen items had been.

Beverly sipped chamomile tea at the counter, her face blotchy and tear-stained. Victoria soothed her then provided a list of the stolen Van Orr pieces to Officer Fallon.

The thieves had cleaned out the antique jewelry cases, taken every ounce of gold and silver, several museum-quality pieces of furniture, and the entire Lydia Van Orr doll collection. The Rohmer French fashion poupeé alone was irreplaceable.

Steve stared at the empty space where the Rohmer had been. His heart sank.

“Too bad your witness can’t tell us who did this,” Officer Wilson said, slanting a look at Pirate.

The bird squawked inside his cage, seeming to enjoy the company. He swung on his perch and broke into a Broadway song.

“Funny bird,” the rookie said. He scratched his ear with his pen.

He pegged Steve with a look that didn’t bode well. “You mentioned you’d doubled your insurance?”

Steve bristled. “I had nothing to do with this. If you check the police reports, you’ll see I’ve been hit twice before. So have other shops on Antiques Row. Whoever’s doing this knows exactly what they’re stealing.” He fought to maintain his cool. “Everyone in the antiques business knows my merchandise is the best around. People want it. Just ask.”

Wilson nodded. “We will.” He moved on and stood before the empty doll cabinets. “Did I hear you say a doll was worth one hundred seventy-five thousand dollars? Are you shitting me?”

“Not at all. If this was New York, I could probably have sold it for more.”

The cop whistled.

Pirate whistled back.

“That’s more than I make in a freakin’ year.” He closed his notebook. “No justice in this world.”

“Ironic, coming from you.” Steve grinned, despite himself. Wilson wasn’t really such a bad guy—at least when he stopped trying to act like some asshole TV cop.

Wilson smirked. “Yeah, guess so. This time, let’s see if justice can’t be served. This is no simple burglary. With all that’s been happening to you and Mrs. Van Orr, there’s got to be a connection.”

The bell rang over the front door and Norman Leighton entered the store. He looked around the room and called out to Steve.

Steve excused himself and moved to the front of the shop to greet the lieutenant.

“Holy shit, you
do
look as bad as the other guy.” Leighton frowned at the half-empty store and sucked his teeth. “You’re not having a good week.”

“And it keeps getting worse.” He was thinking about Victoria. What could be worse than losing her? He’d really screwed up.

The lieutenant lowered his voice. “That guy you fought last night. Know who he is?”

Steve shook his head. “Never seen him before. But he’s been following Mrs. Van Orr.”

Leighton shook his head. “I’m not surprised. Turns out he’s a P.I. named Arnold Flynn.”

“That drunken has-been is an investigator?”

“And ex-con investigator, at that. I’m checking to see if he has a current license. Says he’s from the Midwest. Probably the only clients he gets are former cellmates. He wouldn’t give me specifics—he used the client confidentiality crap to avoid answering my questions. But he says he was hired to find and make contact with Mrs. Van Orr.”

Warning bells clambered inside Steve’s head. “He came into the store when she was alone with Beverly.”

“He was probably staking the place and hassling her for sport, hoping to rattle her.”

Steve cast a worried glance at Victoria. Maybe she sensed his stare, because she looked up, too. When their eyes met, she looked away, her expression tight.

“You need to tell Victoria about this,” Steve said.

“I intend to. Just thought you’d like to know who you were fighting last night.”

Steve turned back to Officer Wilson. “Let’s check the warehouse. I haven’t been there yet.”

They exited through the front door while the lieutenant stayed behind to talk with Victoria. The back door had been identified as the entry point of the burglary.

The warehouse looked like a fortified plane hangar with oversized doors and a minimum number of windows. The building was far enough away from the shop to largely go unnoticed, but close enough to transfer goods conveniently from one place to the other. About half of the Van Orr collection was stored inside, waiting to be sold. The rest had been displayed inside the shop.

When they reached the warehouse, Steve was relieved to find the padlocks still intact. The thieves hadn’t broken either the security code or the locks. The combination of old-school safety and new technology had worked. Too bad he hadn’t padlocked the shop doors, too. “Well, at least the artwork and the rest of the furniture are safe. That’s something.”

“How much is this junk worth?” Wilson asked.

Steve smiled, but there was little humor left in him. “Millions.”

The officer whistled. “This insured, too?”

“Of course. By me and the Van Orrs.”