As the sound built in speed and volume, it stirred something primitive in her—probably due to the fact that Cole had crouched right behind her. His body was pressed so tightly against hers that she could feel each breath he took in and let out. They hadn’t been this close on the dance floor, and she was powerless to block out the sensations. His chest felt hard against her bare back, and his arms were around her. The sarong wasn’t helping a bit. When she’d dropped to her knees, the slit on the one side had widened, and Cole’s hand was resting on her exposed thigh. She could feel the imprint of each one of his fingers. To say that he was interfering with her concentration was putting it mildly.
The one thing she’d decided was that the four men were not enjoying each other’s company. The Frenchman pushed a folded piece of paper across the table toward Butch.
Just then the drum solo ended, and there was a moment of silence before the crowd broke into applause. None of the men at the table clapped. By the time the clapping died down, Butch and H had risen, turned and walked away.
Evan frowned at Jean Claude. “You’re making a mistake.”
Jean Claude placed his hand over Evan’s. “You’ll see. I’m more experienced at this than you are. He’ll come around when we meet in the morning at nine.”
“How can you know that?”
“I’ve done my homework. Castellano’s an astute businessman. He’s not going to give an inch this early in the game. But in the morning, he’ll make a counteroffer.”
“But we’re running out of time.”
“No, we’re not. Drink your champagne. We’ve come too far not to get the best possible price, and Castellano’s pockets are deep.” He patted Evan’s hand. “In the meantime, we may as well enjoy the amenities of the island. They’re serving a late supper in the dining room in honor of Valentine’s Day. I heard that the menu is exquisite, so I made us a reservation.”
Pepper could see some of the anxiety fade from Evan’s face. “Yes. All right.” It occurred to her that Evan was bowing to his friend’s advice and wishes the same way he’d always bowed to his mother’s.
Cole hunkered even closer, pushing her down as the two men rose and walked away. A few moments ticked by before he rose and helped her up. Then he began to draw her in the opposite direction.
Pepper dug in her heels. “Wait.” She circled around the palms and using only two fingers on the very lip of the champagne glass, she plucked it from the table.
Cole didn’t comment. He merely took her free hand, and drew her with him around the far end of the pool until they reached their table.
“We didn’t learn much, did we?” Pepper asked as she placed the glass on the table and sat back down in her chair.
“Tell me what you noticed,” Cole said.
“Evan is nervous. And the Frenchman is older-looking without the beret. Plus, he seems to be in charge.”
“What else?”
“There’s clearly some kind of negotiation going on between Evan and Jean Claude and Butch. The folded paper might have been a price or a bid on something, and Butch didn’t accept it. But Jean Claude is convinced that Butch will change his mind by morning.” Warming to her theme, she leaned toward him. “Evan is just going along with everything.”
“You think Jean Claude is calling the shots?”
Pepper nodded. “Definitely. And he’s giving off very bad vibes. And…I’m becoming more and more convinced that he has the Monet. Go ahead. Tell me that we don’t have positive proof of that and that Irene could still have it.”
“I could tell you all that, but I think your first scenario is more likely.”
“Yeah. I wish I knew what to do about it.”
“You want to go to Butch and tell him everything?”
She studied him for a moment. “That’s what you’d do. Right?”
He nodded.
She thought for a minute. “No. We have until 9:00 a.m. to warn Butch that he might be purchasing a stolen Monet. I want to give my aunt at least that long to get here.”
“Okay. In the meantime, we have a nice set of Jean Claude’s fingerprints.” He pointed at the glass. “What do you want to bet that Luke will have some luck with them?”
She lifted her hands and displayed her crossed fingers.
“Nice move taking that glass, by the way. And your idea of eavesdropping was productive too.”
She felt a ribbon of warmth move through her, sweet and steady. And she knew that she was blushing again. “Thanks. I can lift the prints if we can get some scotch tape. Lesson number sixteen in PI class. And we can fax them to Luke, right?”
“You’re amazing,” Cole said. “Let’s get right on it because I have other plans for the rest of the evening.”
12
Friday, February 13—11:00 p.m.
“ANGELO HASN’T CHECKED in for over an hour,” Butch said as he joined H at the one-way glass that looked out on the lobby.
“There’s a lot of water between here and Eden Island. You told him not to call until he’d searched every inch of it again,” H said in a mild tone. “Plus, it’s been dark for over an hour. I don’t imagine he’s having an easy time locating that raft.”
Butch ran a hand through his hair. There was nothing to worry about. Angelo had spotted the raft about halfway between the two islands shortly before it had become dark. But before he could get within shouting distance, darkness had fallen. Even with a full moon, Angelo’s job was a tough one. Butch glanced at his watch. “She should be here by now.”
“Relax. The weather is good. And remember, she’s with someone who raced in the America’s Cup.”
Butch grunted. “Yeah. That has me wanting to dance a little jig.”
“Do you want me to tell Ms. Rossi that her aunt has rented a boat and is on her way?”
Butch shook his head. “Yeah. But don’t tell her it’s a raft and we’ve lost track of it. There’s no need to worry her. I’m worrying enough for the whole damn Rossi family.”
As H dialed Cole’s number and delivered the message, Butch pulled out a cigar, but just as he was about to stick it between his teeth, he extended his hand and stared at it. “Dammit. I haven’t been able to enjoy one of these since I learned Renie had booked a room here. And now she’s off in a boat with some sailor she picked up on an island that runs a damn sex camp.”
He waved a hand at the lobby. “This should be a night for celebrating. The main restaurant has been booked for two seatings. The lobby bar is packed. Couples are dancing on the veranda, and the dance floor at the poolside café is full. The weekend is going even better than we’d expected. Finalizing that deal with Evan Atwell will be the icing on the cake. And I’m not enjoying any of it.”
H said nothing.
“Don’t you dare say it.” Butch pointed a finger at him.
“I’m not.”
For a moment the silence stretched.
Finally Butch said, “Okay, I’ll say it. Maybe I was wrong about Renie and me.”
H said nothing.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “When she gets here I’ll tell her, and we’ll settle this thing once and for all.”
H glanced at Butch. “Remember, I have those videotapes of her TV show in San Francisco—if you’re interested.”
Butch’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“In any negotiation, it’s a good idea to know everything you can about the other party,” H commented.
Butch thought for another minute, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Speaking of knowing the other party, have you been able to dig up something on Jean Claude Rambeau?”
H shook his head. “There is no such animal. At least not someone who meets Frenchy’s description.”
“He’s using an alias?”
“That would be my guess,” H said.
“Why?”
“Precisely.”
“Shit. If that’s the case, you might have more luck tracing fingerprints. I should have thought about that sooner. We could have had Gari bring us the glass he used at the pool.”
“I requested Gari to do just that, but Mr. Rambeau was a step ahead of us. The glass wasn’t there when Gari went back to the table. Fortunately, I have the slip of paper he gave you.”
Butch took his cigar out and then shoved it back in his pocket. “Dammit. I haven’t been thinking straight all day. That woman has my brain going into a complete meltdown.”
Just then Butch squinted and moved closer to the glass. Cole Buchanan and Pepper Rossi had just stepped up to the main registration desk.
“They make a nice couple,” H said.
Butch grunted. “Did you run a background check on Buchanan?”
H nodded. “I couldn’t find anything disturbing. He’s ex-CIA. That was pretty easy to access. But there were some files I couldn’t get into.”
Butch turned then to stare at his friend. “Files exist that you couldn’t get into?”