Love by Association

Or to gain her confidence enough to get her to press charges against her husband.

At the moment, Colin Fairbanks seemed like a fairly obvious godsend. He was her ticket to the circle—one that would not raise suspicion in anyone who might get nervous about Leslie suddenly having a new “friend.”

Her job, she suddenly understood, was to make certain that she kept him interested enough to keep her around.

Leslie was still talking. “But if we can give attendees an evening to remember, something that’s not easy to do with this bunch, we’ll get donations commensurate with their enjoyment. Some of us out here on the West Coast might be hard to truly entertain, but probably because of that, we’re very generous with our money when we do find ourselves having a good time.”

She was speaking freely because she thought Chantel was “one of them.” Chantel got that. It was up to her to keep Leslie and her crowd under that impression.

“So I’m thinking, with your writing skills...you could take the basic story and add twists and turns that will give them something they’ve never seen before, something unique.”

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. Her mother’s voice, of all things, popped into her mind from many years before.

“I’d be happy to have a go at it,” she said aloud, wondering how much it would cost the police department to hire a ghostwriter on short notice. One thing was for sure, her limited undercover budget wasn’t going to cover it.

Her mother’s brother’s wife, whose family, the Johnsons, were in publishing in New York, had a small nonfiction publishing company. Her aunt and uncle had been at her high school graduation, and Chantel hadn’t seen them since.

That contact probably wasn’t going to be much help...here.

A couple passed behind Colin. He shifted, placing a hand at her back as he stepped closer. He left the hand there.

“You’ll get a look at the lead parts, then,” Leslie said. The slightly sly grin she gave Colin made it obvious she was working him. “Seriously, I think you two would be perfect for them.”

“I’m not an actor.” Colin’s reminder was firm, but kind.

It would have stopped Chantel.

“Of course you are, my dear,” Leslie said. “We all are. It’s the only way to survive living among us all!” She chuckled.

And Chantel was chilled by the tragic truth she was certain she heard underneath the woman’s polish.

“I’m not sure I understand why you think Colin and I would be perfect for the parts,” Chantel said, an investigator, a high-society beauty and a writer all wrapped into one. While playing a part in the library’s mystery-event evening could very well provide her with access to Leslie as well as giving her the excuse she needed to stick close to Colin, to use him as her cover as she attended functions over the next weeks, she didn’t want him to have reason to avoid her.

Which he very well could if he didn’t want to play the part.

She also didn’t want to appear too eager. Was she adopting enough of the blasé attitude she’d observed on so many of the videos of the rich and famous she’d watched over the past week?

His hand caressed her back. Whatever she was doing, she had to keep doing it. She seemed to have piqued his interest.

“The story is based on a couple who are newly married and just moving into the mansion. They’ve inherited it and a couple of staff from his uncle. The day they move in, a couple of his uncle’s close friends stop by. They continue to check in. The couple has only been there a few of days when they discover a dead body that’s been dragged behind a hidden door in the upstairs hall. The two staff members, and everyone else who’d dropped by, are suspects.”

“But neither member of the lead couple is?”

“No.” Leslie shook her head. “You see, that’s why you and Colin fit the parts so well...” She had a little smile on her face, her eyes alight. And no matter her age, she was really quite beautiful.

“Leslie.” The one word was softly spoken, coming from just behind Leslie. A man had approached.

Chantel watched as Leslie’s face became instantly devoid of emotion and a split second later was smiling again. “James.” Leslie turned, taking the man’s hand and pulling him forward.

“James, good to see you.” Colin reached to shake the other man’s hand. She didn’t detect even a hint of stiffening in the other man’s presence.

Did he have any idea what James Morrison did to his wife behind closed doors?

God forbid, could Colin be part of the good-old-boy mentality that would cover up any hint of abuse with justification of one kind or another?