The Gypsy Ribbon Read online

  “I’d like that too,” Beth murmured. “I love talking to you on the phone, but…oh!” she shrieked.

  James was immediately alarmed. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

  “Didn’t you tell me you travel with a computer?” she asked. “I have a web cam on mine. Do you?”

  “Hang on.” Beth heard the phone fall and muffled noises indicating his room was being tossed followed. There was a sound of a zipper, followed by a growled, “And now I’ve lost the feckin’ phone. Make some noise so I can find you, darlin’.”

  “I’m down here,” she called out, laughing.

  “There you are. Yes, there’s a camera,” he said excitedly, putting the phone back to his ear. “Never used it, though. How do I get it to work?”

  A techie at heart, Beth spoke fluent computer-ese. She walked him through setting it up, and within minutes was looking into his beautiful eyes. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said in her best Barbra Streisand voice.

  “Hello, beautiful lady,” he grinned, lounging barefoot in cotton sweats and a t-shirt. “This may be your best idea yet. The only thing I can’t see is what color your wonderful eyes are right now. I can see you blush, though.” He smiled.

  She raised both hands to her cheeks in mortification, realizing too late he was actually looking at her. I have on no makeup and my hair is a freakin’ tumbleweed. What the hell was I thinking? “I, uh…I’m sure I’m…well, a mess,” she ended lamely.

  Her thoughts must have been clearly etched on her face because James threw his head back and laughed. “You’re lovely, darlin’, don’t for a minute think otherwise. It’s nice seeing you, the real you. Ever been to Boston?” he asked.

  She shook her head, quite embarrassed and more than a little grateful for the subject change. “I’ve never been out of Florida.”

  He grinned. “Wanna see the view? I’d much rather you were here, but this is the next best thing.”

  Using the new-found camera, he gave her the nickel tour of the plush room then showed her the breathtaking view from his downtown hotel balcony. When he sat back down she could see him again as he reclined back in the chair. He had just opened his mouth to speak when his head jerked around at the sound of a rhythmic banging. “Hang on, I’ll be right back,” he sighed, moving out of her line of sight.

  She heard a man’s heavily accented voice say something along the lines of getting the cars ready and good party. She had to strain to hear James, his voice low as he said, “I’m in the middle of something right now; I’ll catch up later.” The men spoke for another moment before being interrupted by feminine squeals of “We’ll see you there, James!”

  * * * *

  BVargo9 is no longer online. James saw the line of text as clearly as if it had been painted in ten foot Day-Glo letters all over the walls. Shit. He couldn’t get the door closed fast enough. He turned and walked slowly back to the computer, knowing even before he got there that the connection had been broken. He threw himself back into the chair, wholly disgusted at the appalling turn of events. Glaring at the blank screen, he let out a string of curses then tried again to reconnect with no luck. He called her cell phone, no answer. He called again, left a voice mail and then tried a text:

  please talk to me

  Beth’s answer was immediate.

  have fun talk to you tomorrow

  He groaned aloud and sent, one minute is all I ask

  When no answer came, he tried her cell phone again and to his relief, she answered. “Yes?” she said, her cool voice all business.

  Without preamble, he launched into his explanation. “The band’s off to some private club. That was Bryce at the door. The girls are with him. I’m not going because I wanted to talk to you instead of hanging out at some stupid club and get photographed with stupid people who don’t give a rat’s ass about me personally. I didn’t tell anyone I’m not going because I didn’t want to catch heat about blowing off a public appearance. And that, sweetheart, is the complete truth in under one minute.” There was nothing but dead air at the other end of the phone. He held his breath, hoping she hadn’t hung up.

  His screen flickered and her name popped up again, requesting to connect. Within seconds her face came back into view. He hung up the phone. “Thank you,” he nodded.

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I guess I made some really unfair assumptions. So, you were saying something about Wednesday?”

  * * * *

  Early Monday morning, Meg waddled up the hall to Dan’s big area at the front of the main office, one hand holding a stack of purchase orders and the other resting on her second trimester tummy. Dan looked up and smiled when she entered the room. “I would have come back there to get those,” he chided gently.

  “Yes, you could have, and I wouldn’t have gotten to smell your coffee,” she sighed. “I miss it so.”

  Dan nodded in sympathy. “I know you do, sweetheart. Would some coffee-flavored ice cream help?

  She beamed in adoration then picked at her clingy knit sundress. “I don’t need that, either.” She pouted. “Doctor said I’ve already gained enough weight right now. If you get ice cream, I’ll just rub it on my bum since that’ll be where it’s headed anyway.”

  With one swift move, Dan was up and around the desk. He laughed and cupped her behind, lifting her up and against his heart. “I think you’ve got a magnificent bum.” He smiled. He held her that way until Meg squealed and pushed her small hands against his chest.

  “Put me down before you jostle the baby, you great beastie.” She laughed. Reluctant to let her go, he gave her a kiss on the nose before setting her back down. On many nights at the Castle, they acted the parts of the reigning monarchs. At several inches over six feet, the mild-mannered Dan was a bearded bear of a man who had no trouble pulling off the very image of a young King Henry VIII. The petite Meg wore the costume of Catherine Parr. The one who lived, she often joked. Together they had singlehandedly run the constantly expanding theme park until Lily came to work with them in the office. Meg glanced over and sighed at the newest picture on Dan’s office wall, the wedding portrait taken with the bride and groom and Dan and Meg in their medieval costumes.

  “I miss them too.” Dan sighed, ever-sensitive to his wife’s moods. “They’re having a grand time, though.” Besides Meg, Ian was Dan’s best friend, and he was suffering through the same sort of withdrawals as Beth. “Are these all the forms that need to go out today?” he asked, changing the subject and waving a large hand toward the inbox on his desk.

  Meg shook her head. “No, there’s more. I’ll have them ready in a few moments. And not to worry,” she said over her shoulder, “the exercise walking up and down the hall is doing me good.” She disappeared into the back again just as the office bell announcing a visitor tinkled.

  A middle-aged man clad in khakis and a golf shirt walked through the front door, looking around as if committing everything to memory. He set down his briefcase and pulled his dark sunglasses off as his eyes adjusted to the light. Dan came out of his office to greet the visitor. “May I help you?”

  The man thrust a hand forward with a genial smile. “The name’s Neil McCauley. I’m with the law office of Meyers and Associates.” He gave Dan’s hand a firm shake, then reached into his pants pocket and handed him a business card. “I need to speak to someone who handles personnel.”

  Dan eyed the card, wondering who had done what that would require a lawyer’s presence in his humble office. “That would be me. I’m Daniel Wilde, the owner. Please, come in and have a seat.” He waved the man toward the overstuffed couch then sat down behind his desk. “Now, then, what can I do for you?”

  Taking the offered seat, McCauley opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder containing a number of official looking documents. “I’m looking for a woman by the name of Lisbeth Vargo.” He glanced around Dan’s office with the same scrutiny given to the lobby area. “My firm handles primarily estate cases. We’ve been trying t
o locate Ms. Vargo for some time. There’s been a death in her family…” He glanced inside the folder. “…And she was named as a beneficiary in the will. We’re anxious to close the estate, but we’re not able to until we locate Ms. Vargo.” The man smiled expectantly, but did not offer the folder with the papers in it.

  Dan noticed that immediately and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Going with his gut instinct, he lied, “The name’s not ringing any bells for me. My wife’s in the back, let me see if she knows her.” Dan stood. “Excuse me a moment, please.”

  He strode to the back office where Meg sat in front of her computer. Glancing back to make sure he wasn’t followed, he pulled the door closed behind him. At once, Meg paled. “What’s the matter, Daniel?” she asked, her hand instinctively covering her stomach.

  “There’s a man out front, says he’s an estate lawyer. He’s asking about Beth Vargo,” he said. “He says somebody in her family died and named her in the will.”

  Meg’s eyes widened then narrowed just as quickly. “Lily told me Beth doesn’t have any family. Hold on a sec,” she said, accessing the employee records. Scrolling down, she found Beth’s name and clicked to open her file. “See, look,” she gestured toward the screen, “Lily’s parents are listed as her next of kin. She doesn’t have any living family at all, the poor dear.”

  “All right, then. So who’s in our office and what does he want?” Dan asked in a low voice.

  Meg held out her hand for the business card, read it carefully and sighed. “Neil McCaulay, eh? I don’t think so.” Chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment, she closed her eyes. “Beth’s not in trouble. This has something to do with…” Her emerald eyes opened slowly, “…James.”

  Dan’s eyebrows shot up. Even though he had known the family for years the fey streak still amazed him at the best of times. At other times–like now–it freaked him out. “Christ, Meghan. Are you sure? Absolutely sure?” he asked, running a hand through his already messy mop of hair. “I can’t just go out there and ask his what his connection to James is, woman.”

  Meg’s eyes blazed with fury. “This is no attorney. I’ll handle it,” she spat. She jumped up and stalked past her husband down the hall toward the front office.

  Dan shook his head. “I almost feel sorry for the poor sod,” he murmured, falling in step behind her.

  She pulled herself up to her full five feet one inch as she entered Dan’s office and stuck out her hand to the visitor. “I’m Meghan Wilde. I understand you’re asking about someone you think may be employed here?”

  Mr. McCauley stood as he took her hand and shook it. “Yes. Her name is Lisbeth Vargo.”

  Meg’s charming smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t think I know that name, but I’ll be happy to look for you. I’ll just need to be seeing your court order, please.” She waited for a long moment for a response, but when one didn’t appear to be forthcoming she added reasonably, “Certainly you can’t be expecting me to open my employee records without one?”

  The attorney appeared unruffled. “This isn’t a police matter, Mrs. Wilde. As I explained to your husband, we’re estate attorneys attempting to contact a beneficiary.”

  “Ah, well then,” Meg nodded sympathetically. “So who died?”

  “I’m not at liberty to divulge that, ma’am,” he replied.

  The amiable facade dropped at once and Meg’s eyes became glittering slits. “Then I’m not at liberty to divulge who works here and who doesn’t,” she snapped. “Quid pro quo, Mr…” She looked down at the card, “McCauley.”

  Dan gave a little cough to disguise the chuckle at his fierce wife, who absolutely adored American crime movies.

  McCauley gave her a resigned smile and picked up his briefcase. As if a light went off, he cocked his head suddenly. “That’s a lovely accent, Mrs. Wilde,” he commented. “Where are you from originally?”

  Meg gave her bright red hair a toss. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that, either.”

  He shrugged. “I apologize. You just remind me of someone I met recently.”

  “I’ll just bet I do,” Meg said, adding a contemptuous snort. “We’ll keep your card in case anyone with that name shows up.” With that, she turned on her heel and said as she passed Dan in the doorway, “I’ll be in my office should you need me.”

  Dan did his best to keep a straight face, but knew he was falling woefully short. “Sorry we couldn’t help you,” he said, opening the door in invitation and without another word, the visitor left. Dan watched him walk back down the boulevard toward the parking lot, and wasn’t surprised when Meg joined him at the window moments later.

  Her voice was quiet. “What you reckon my little brother’s gone and done now and how on earth is Beth involved?”

  9

  Standing in the hotel lobby waiting for the limos to take the band to the airport, James frowned down at his vibrating phone. “Why’s Meg calling so early?” he mumbled. All manner of awful reasons sprang up from his fertile imagination, but as soon as he said hello he regretted not letting it go straight to voice mail.

  Without preamble she hit him with a full-scale verbal assault. “Seamus? Cad e an sceal, mo buachaill?”

  Snatching the phone back from his ringing ear, James cringed at her fierce tone. “Christ, Meggie,” he snapped. “If you’re going to rip me a new ass, do it in English. I don’t speak the Irish as well as you and definitely not this early in the morning. Hold on.” He walked away a few steps from the main group and over to a more isolated area. “Now then,” he said calmly, “what’s got your knickers all twisted up so early? What’s the story about what?”

  “What’s going on with you? Or should I say with you and Beth?” she demanded.

  James tensed. “How’s that your business, Meg?”

  “It’s my business when somebody comes in my office asking questions about one of my employees. The very nerve of the man. Tried telling me he was an estate attorney and that Beth was a beneficiary in one of her relative’s wills–”

  “Beth doesn’t have any family.” In the next second, he wished he had held his tongue.

  Meg went silent. When she finally spoke, he could actually hear the smugness creep into her voice. “Well, then. That tells me that you know quite a bit about her, and I’ll wager she knows quite a bit about you too. So how long’s this been going on?”

  “Never you mind,” he snapped. “What was he after?”

  “I don’t know, but it wasn’t about any estate. He didn’t feel right to me. I got the notion that it’s connected to you somehow and I don’t like it, not one bit. I haven’t called her yet, I’ll be doing that in a minute.” He could just picture the grin spreading over her face when she asked, “So you and Beth are getting friendly, that’s good. She’s a sweet girl, James. You play nice or I will kick your ass, understand me?”

  “Jaysus, Meg, what is it with you people? You and Lily both threaten me with bodily harm, Ian threatens to drown me. I swear, I’m going to start taking this personally.” He laughed. “When you talk to her, tell her that I’ll see her later.” Before Meg could question his choice of words he quickly explained, “She showed me how to use the webcam on my notebook, so we’ve been talking on that every ni–” Damn. Damn. DAMN.

  “Oooh…every night?” Meg’s voice dropped to a sly purr.

  James snorted in exasperation, glancing around for a convenient excuse to stop talking to his well-meaning but nosy big sister. “I gotta go, car’s here. I’ll talk to you later.” Ending the call, he spied one of the opulent hotel’s gift shops, this one showcasing fine jewelry in the window. With a grin, he headed straight for it.

  * * * *

  Beth hung up the phone after talking with Meg, not knowing quite what to make of the revelation that someone was asking about her at the office. “But I don’t have any relatives,” Beth had insisted. “He was obviously mistaken.” She couldn’t shake the feeling that it had something to do with James. Meg didn’t
come right out and say as much, but she had the distinct feeling the elder Kelly sister felt the same.

  Sitting cross-legged on the couch, she shuffled her tarot deck and began to formulate her query. “Today’s question’s has two parts,” she said aloud. “First, what was the man looking for at the Castle office? Second, where’s this whole brouhaha headed?” She giggled at her silly–but appropriate–choice of words and laid out the first five cards of a Celtic Cross.

  The first card was the situation and that was the Queen of Wands. “No surprise there, that’s me right in the middle of it,” she murmured.

  The Crossing card was the Page of Swords reversed, “The spy. I knew it.”

  The third card was the Base of the situation, and James made his appearance as the Knight of Wands. The Past card was the Moon reversed, and the Crown was the Three of Swords.

  Beth sat back and looked in dismay at the spread. “Okay,” she said, wishing like hell Lily was there to see it, “Someone is spying on me, it’s about James. Whoever he is, he’s going to expose our secrets, whatever those are, and try to break us up.” She shook her head as she heard herself say that last bit. “Are we…together? No, he just…he doesn’t think of…he hasn’t said…”

  She decided to file that away to think about later. “So what’s the outcome going to be?” she continued shuffling, and laid out the remaining five cards in the Future, Self, House, Hopes and Fears, and Outcome positions. The Future card was the Ten of Swords, and Beth cringed when she saw it. The picture on her Smith-Waite card showed a man lying in a pool of blood face down, with swords sticking from his back. It was a card of finality and shuddering, she turned over the next card indicating the Self. “Self is the Four of Swords, recuperation. That’s good, down time to heal after the awful Ten of Swords.”

  The next card she turned over was the Star in the House position. “Good, lots of support from the home front.” The Ten of Cups was in the Hopes position, and Beth sat deep in thought for a long time staring at it. “That was the card from the first reading I did about James, when I asked what he was after.” She sat bolt upright. “This reading is about him, not me.”