My Spy (19 page)

Halfway to the door Annie stopped. “What
did
you come up here for?”

Buzz motioned to the sidewalk. “Have a look.”

A brown suitcase stood beside a bank of hollyhocks.

“It's not one of mine. Where did you find it?”

“Edna called me from the café. A woman left it after lunch, and Edna remembered that she mentioned coming here to rest. Edna said she was a nervous type with spiky black hair, just wrote some kind of book.”

“Nikki Jerome! You've got her underwear!” Annie swept a kiss against Buzz's wind-burned cheek. “Blessed, blessed man.”

The sheriff rubbed his face, trying to hide a flush. “I had to open it to check for a name and there sure seemed like a lot of underwear for one person. Of course I haven't been out on a date since the first Reagan administration, so what do I know?”

“You should go out again, Buzz.” Annie touched his arm lightly. “Emmalou would be the first to agree.”

“Hell.” Shoulders stiff, he fiddled with his hat. “I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Just think about it. In return, I'll remember to call you if I need any help.”

“You got yourself a deal. Now go find your pool repairman and teach him a hard lesson about customer satisfaction.”

“Good advice.” Annie turned to find Izzy cradling her defective smoke detector. “If this is bad news, I don't want to hear it.”

“All in all, it's fairly positive.”

“Good. First let me introduce our sheriff. Ishmael Teague, meet Buzz Kozinski.”

The two men shook hands politely, but Annie sensed that behind their smiles they were sizing each other up.

“I'd better let you get on with your work,” Buzz said after a thoughtful silence. “Remember to call me if you need anything.”

Izzy watched the officer amble to his cruiser. “Seems like a nice fellow.”

“The best. Some people think he's too provincial to conduct a real criminal investigation, but he's patient and he's ruthlessly thorough. In fact, he just solved the case of the missing underwear.”

“Sounds like you've known him a while.”

“Fifteen years.” Annie waved as the patrol car drove past. “He lost his wife, and things have been pretty rocky for him but I think he's finally coming back.” She glanced at the smoke detector and sighed. “What did you find?”

“Some of the circuits were twisted in the fuse box. I checked with the manufacturer. According to them the circuits might have rattled loose if you've had a lot of earthquake activity.”

“Nothing major for three years.”

Izzy turned the unit between his fingers. “Probably not caused by a quake, in that case. I'll keep digging. In the
meantime, I installed a new detector and I'll check your primary fuse box next.”

“It's near my office. I'll come along and show you.” Annie headed down the corridor at a brisk walk.

“Everything else okay?” Izzy asked casually.

“I'm really backed up from spending so much time with Sam. Not that I regret it,” she said hastily.

“What's to regret? You have no peace, no privacy, and no free time. But I'll take over tonight. I was thinking he could try the whirlpool up at your place, just as a change of pace.”

Annie suppressed a sharp image of Sam rocking against her in the hot, swirling water. “Good idea. Anything to keep him from the free weights.” She cleared her throat at the thought of Sam clad in nothing but foam.
No way.
“Just be sure that leg stays out of the water.”

“Roger. Anything else I can do before I head back?”

“Want to try out some chamomile toning gel?” Annie asked, then chuckled at the look of sheer disgust on his face.

A
S
HE
CRUISED
THROUGH
THE
PARKING
LOT, BUZZ
WATCHED Annie talking with her visitor. The man held himself with quiet confidence and looked as if he worked hard at staying in shape.

Buzz grimaced, suddenly conscious of his own expanding midriff. The fact was, he'd let himself run down since Emmalou had …

Left him.

That's the way he usually thought of it. But gone was still gone.

The pain receded slowly. Emmalou would have wanted him to keep an eye on Annie.

He glanced in the mirror, frowning. Her friend in the windbreaker seemed like a decent type, but he decided to do his
own checking. He pulled out a notebook, trying to remember the man's name.

Teague.
What about his first name?

Israel? No, Ishmael. At least a name like that should be easy to track. Assuming it was real.

As a police officer, Buzz had access to a wide array of resources, and he decided to call in some favors. He couldn't allow a stranger to cause Annie any trouble.

Emmalou would expect it of him.

“A
TOE
RING?” SAM
PUT
DOWN
THE
DUMBBELL
HE
'D
BEEN
CURLING. “Annie
?”

“It looked kind of cute, especially with the red polish on her toenails. And she did something to her hair. It's all shades of blond now with different lengths. Taylor says it's the newest thing.”

“Who's Taylor?”

“Her sister. Lived in Europe awhile, then moved to San Francisco. Now she bought a house nearby.”

Sam ran a towel over his face. “Did she swallow your story about doing security work?”

“No reason for her not to. Although for a minute I thought—”

“What?”

Izzy shrugged. “Maybe she thought Annie and I were up here—well, you get the picture.”

Sam ignored a little stab of jealousy. “I suppose Annie gets that reaction a lot. Being a single woman doing hands-on therapy with athletes and movie stars, I mean.”

Izzy nodded. “That little tube top was probably her sister's idea, too.”

Sam looked down the hill toward Annie's office. “One of those skimpy knit things? No sleeves?”

“That's the kind.”

“What color?”

“Red.”

A muscle moved at Sam's jaw. “You'd better go back down and check out that fire alarm. See if any wiring is damaged. And keep an eye on Annie. I don't want a bunch of rich guys hitting on her.” He glanced around the room, frowning. “But first help me find the binoculars.”

W
HEN ANNIE
FINALLY
TRACKED
DOWN NIKKI JEROME,
THE AUTHOR
was covered with sweat, pumping away on a stationary bicycle.

“Good news, Ms. Jerome. Your suitcase has been found. It appears you left it in the café in town the day you arrived.”

“Impossible,” the author panted. “I had it when I checked in.”

“Apparently not. The manager at the café remembered you mentioning Summerwind and asked the sheriff to check it out. I've sent the case up to your room.”

“Thank heaven. The thought of a stranger with my private things made me
nuts.
” She stopped pedaling and ran a hand across her neck. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

“Don't worry, stress busting is our specialty.”

“So it seems.” The author combed her fingers absently through her damp hair.

“Is something else bothering you?”

Nikki Jerome slid off the bike and walked to the terrace, the curtains drifting around her. “How well do you know Tucker Marsh?”

More than I want to,
Annie thought. “Not very well. Has something happened?”

“You could say that.” The author toyed with the belt of her robe. “I met him in the exercise room and he noticed my book. He's worked with a few authors in plagiarism cases, so we began talking. He asked about my representation and said he could do better for me. When he asked me for lunch to discuss it, the idea seemed perfectly reasonable.” Her brow furrowed. “We talked for a while, but all he wanted to discuss was the cases he's won. And then he …”

“Go on,” Annie said.

“Then he got touchy—a pat on the shoulder, a touch on the waist. After his third glass of wine, things changed.” She took a hard breath. “He touched me under the table, and I told him to stop.”

“Did he?”

“He told me to drop dead.” The writer laughed cynically. “He also said I was a big girl and if I didn't want to play ball I shouldn't get out on the court.” She stared out toward the garden. “I was vulnerable, and he knew it.”

“Did he threaten you? Harm you in any way?”

The author shook her head. “He came right to the edge a few times, but never went over.” She was silent for a long time, staring down at the beach. “I think he's done this kind of thing before, Ms. O'Toole.”

It was possible. Tucker Marsh's ego was colossal. No doubt he considered female intimidation and sexual harassment to be his God-given right.

Annie realized she'd have to take immediate precautions. “If he tries anything else—if he even whispers in your direction—I want to know. Bring me times and locations. Meanwhile, steer clear of him and I'll alert the staff. Unfortunately, unless he does something overt, I can't have him thrown off the premises.”

Nikki Jerome nodded slowly. “Not without one hell of a lawsuit.”

“Let me worry about that. I want you to forget Tucker Marsh and enjoy yourself. If he tries to bother you again, I'll take legal action against him.” Annie glanced at her watch. “Aren't you due down in hydrotherapy for a watsu session with Sumner? I guarantee when he's done, you're going to be melted butter.”

But Annie's smile faded the second the author strode out. She refused to let Tucker Marsh sink his fangs into one of her guests.

She drummed one hand on the counter.

Legal advice first. Time to contact her lawyer in Santa Cruz.

Alex took her call immediately. “Annie, it's wonderful to speak to you. Are you still holding that wine-tasting dinner next month? If so, put me down for four tickets.”

“Consider it done.” Annie hesitated. “The fact is, I need some advice.”

His chair creaked. “Professional advice?”

“I'm not asking for new massage techniques, if that's what you're asking.”

“I might surprise you. I lived in an ashram in India for a year before I passed the bar.”

Annie was astounded. She had never guessed her fast-track, button-down lawyer had a fuzzy New Age side. “Did India help you get in touch with your inner Buddha? Or was your inner child interested in torts?”

“Actually, it was both.” He chuckled. “Things were certainly simpler then. But you didn't call to discuss metaphysics. What's the trouble?”

Annie took a deep breath. “One of my guests had an unpleasant encounter with another guest.”

Alex's voice turned hard. “There's a lot of that going around. Was rape involved?”

“Nothing so overt. He put his hands on her, got a little pushy and crude. He told her he could help her career, then got huffy when she tried to leave.” Annie chewed her lip. “I'm starting to think he makes a practice of this.”

The lawyer's chair squeaked again.

“Well?” she demanded. “Talk to me, Alex. What are my options?”

“It's not a lot to go on, Annie. If you want to pursue legal action, you'd need a sworn statement from your guest detailing exactly what took place at the resort.”

“It didn't happen on the grounds. They'd gone into town for lunch.”

“If this didn't happen on your property, I'm not sure you have a solid reason to be involved.”

Annie stiffened. “But it's
wrong.
”

“Of course it is. Proving that is something else entirely.”

“Have I ever told you how much I hate cynical people?”

“It's called realism, not cynicism. Unless I'm mistaken, that's what you're paying me for. Is there anything else I should know?”

“One thing.” Annie took a breath. “The man involved is Tucker Marsh.”

“
Capo di tutti capi
of litigators? Damn, Annie, you know how to find the hot water, don't you? The man's only lost three cases in seventeen years. In a courtroom he's like a great white shark on steroids.”

“He also skirted the edge with me,” Annie said tightly.

“The bastard. Was he physically intimidating?”

“Verbal, but using more force in grabbing my arm than he should have.”