"This is a fairly small island whose only industry, as far as I can tell, is tourism. What sort of business are we talking about?"
"It has something to do with telecommunications and radio or microwave towers, or some such. I've taken a look at the annual report, but to tell you the truth I was more interested in the financial bottom line than whatever the product is they produced to arrive at it. So I'm not real clear if it has to do with cellular phones or satellite systems or exactly what the nature of the beast is. But I can tell you this much. It's not some hokey little nickledime operation. It has a net worth of over nine million dollars. The family property where you're staying is worth a couple of million more. If you want additional details, I can give it a closer look."
"No, the what isn't really the important issue. The point seems to be that David is the sole beneficiary of a sizable fortune. Do you have any idea who it goes to if anything happens to him?"
"Barring his getting married first, it all reverts back to Mama."
Zach whistled through his teeth. "Gives her a helluva motive, doesn't it? Especially now, with him on the verge of marrying Glynnie."
"I wouldn't count her out, that's for damn sure."
"But judging by your crack about the Borgias, I assume she's not the only one worth looking at?"
"Well, the whole friggin' family seems to have moved in with David and Mama following Papa's death. And I can tell you that Cousin Cassidy is in serious debt. She's racked up a small fortune on her credit cards and has had two Visas and an American Express cut off. Cousin Jessica's come up clean so far, and so has her husband and Cousin Richard. But if you don't ask how I got them, I'll tell you I managed to get my hands on the Beaumonts' phone records."
"And this is significant because… ?"
"Of the number of calls that've been made from there to a business competitor in California. They could mean nothing, or it could be that someone in the house is engaged in some industrial espionage. In other words, we don't know the significance. This is all strictly preliminary, so I can't give you any details yet. But you can bet your ass I'll get them, and meanwhile, I wouldn't remove damn near anyone from the short list. You never know what the hell's going to surface until I really start digging."
They hung up a short while later, and Zach rummaged through the small desk across the room until he came up with a piece of paper. Slapping it down on the desktop, he sat and divided it into sections, allotting one Beaumont per section. Next to the individual's name, he listed all the information John had given him for that person, plus his own impressions. The exercise didn't pop out anything that illuminated a big lightbulb over his head, but it did help cement the facts in his mind.
A short while later he looked up and saw by the clock on the desk that he was on the verge of being late for breakfast. He promptly pushed back from the desk and rose to his feet, folding his sheet of notes into a small rectangle. He slipped it into his hip pocket as he headed for the door.
It wasn't until he was loping down the main staircase a moment later that the oddness of his own behavior suddenly hit him. Rushing off all eager for a meal, even one of Lily's tasty feasts, wasn't at all like him. He was a professional soldier, for crissake. If food was such a huge priority he never would have lasted eighteen years in the service.
With a sinking feeling he realized it was her. Lily. It was the prospect of seeing her again, being close to her, basking in the warmth of that generous smile. Just the thought of it had him panting like an overeager hound.
Well, shit.
The following evening Jessica raced into the kitchen and slapped a glossy page she'd torn out of a magazine down on the counter in front of Lily. "What do you think?" she demanded breathlessly, reaching for a white apron to tie around her hips. "Do you think that haircut would look good on me?"
"Goodness gracious," Lily said with a laugh. "I think I've created a monster." Then she leaned forward to peer at the picture, and her eyes rounded. "Oh. Wow . You're getting really good at this." She wiped her hands on her apron, picked the page up, and held it under the light to examine more closely. She looked up and studied Jessica for a moment, then went back to examining the picture again.
Jessica practically danced in place. "Well?"
"I'll say it again." Meeting her eyes, Lily grinned. " Wow . I think this would look great on you."
"Oh, God. Me, too." She laughed and gathered together salad fixings. Tearing romaine leaves apart, she tossed it in a bowl she'd rubbed with olive oil and a garlic clove, then reached for the knife and a green onion. "The model's face is the same shape as mine. And even better, the texture of her hair looks as if it might be similar."
"Yeah, and look what that style does for her neck. You've got that elegant swan-neck thing going for you, too."
"I'm going to call first thing in the morning and see if I can get an appointment." Jessica finished putting the salad together. "You want me to make a red-wine dressing for this?"
"Yes, that'd be great." Lily glanced over as she pulled a tray of browning game hens out of the oven to baste with cranberry vinegar sauce. "If you're able to get an appointment soon and the salon is in town, I'd love to ride along. I need to pick up some mushrooms for a recipe I'm thinking of trying."
"I'll let you know as soon as I find out when it'll be." As she went to set down the mixed dressing, she noticed a red stain spreading across her white shirt. " Damn ."
Lily followed her gaze. "What is it, wine? Oh, shoot, did that happen before or after you mixed it with the oil?"
Jess peered at the stain. "It doesn't seem oily, so I think it must have been before."
"Good, that's not quite so bad. Turn on the tea kettle." She made a shooing motion as soon as Jessica had done so. "I've got it covered here. Go change, then bring your shirt back down. As long as it's only wine, we can get it out with boiling water."
Jessica took the stairs two at a time as she headed up to her suite of rooms to change. Life had been so interesting the past few days. She felt prettier and infinitely more with it, and Christopher seemed to like the new her, too. He'd been chasing her around the bedroom steadily since her fashion epiphany.
She was grinning as she reached the room, but the smile dropped away when she opened the door and heard him hurriedly say, "Gotta go. I'll talk to you soon." He was hanging up the telephone as she walked into their bedroom.
He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
"Who were you talking to?" she asked as she peeled off her blouse and reached into the closet for a fresh one.
"No one," he said, and casually shrugged a wide shoulder when she turned to stare at him. "No one you know, in any case. Just someone about a project at work."
Her stomach squeezed. She loved him so desperately, and had never fully accepted her good luck in catching his attention. It seemed as if she'd spent the last two years waiting for the other shoe to drop, and she wondered if that's what was happening here now.
She didn't want to believe it, but something was definitely going on. The sad truth was, though, that whatever it was, she didn't want to know.
Christopher diverted her attention when his gaze tracked over her satin bra. His green eyes darkened.
"Look at you," he said, climbing to his feet and walking up to her. He trailed a long finger down her strap then traced the dip of the bra's cups between her breasts. "Did you come up here to give me a little pre-dinner appetizer?"
Muscles deep between her thighs immediately clenched at the idea, but she laughed and stepped away. "No. I just came up to change into a clean blouse. I spilled red wine all over this one. I need to take it back down to the kitchen to get the stain out."