Reid’s eyes narrowed. He stepped toward her, and for a moment she was afraid. Then a crash from the kitchen reminded her that they were in a relatively public place. If he tried anything, she could bring the house down with her screams.
“It was you who put that dress and the makeup in my office, wasn’t it? You little bitch.” He hissed the last phrase so quietly she wasn’t sure he had said it at all.
She forced her voice to remain strong and confident. “I’m sure you’d rather be arrested for assault than for murder.”
“It was an accident,” he snapped.
“So you want us to take Millie to the cops?”
“No!” He crossed one arm over his chest and propped the other against it. He covered his mouth and chin with one hand. Finally he said, “How do I know you won’t let her testify to the police after I’ve pled guilty to the assault?”
“It’s a balance. Like a seesaw. If you deny you beat up Becky Castle, we’ll be in trouble. If we let Millie tell the cops, you’ll be in trouble.”
“Getting arrested for assault and battery is trouble, you idiot.”
“You’re a rich guy. You can afford a good lawyer. Tell him it was a lovers’ fight, he’ll probably get you off with a few years suspended and some domestic violence classes.”
He looked at her closely. “Your friend is the person who really assaulted the Castle girl, isn’t he?” He stared at her hand. She looked down and saw her wedding ring. “He’s your husband,” Reid said.
She folded her hand and pressed it against her leg. “Do we have a deal?”
“I have to finish the dinner,” he said, tilting his head toward the kitchen. “I’m conducting some important business there. And I need a chance to call my attorney, to arrange to turn myself in.”
“You have until midnight tonight.”
“Just like Cinderella,” he said. “All right.”
She stood for a moment, not knowing what to do now. He had just… given in. She hadn’t been expecting that. Finally she shook herself and walked off. He said nothing, so neither did she.
It wasn’t until she had rounded the corner and was facing the stairs up to the lobby that she let herself smile, a wide, glorious, split-seamed smile. She did it. She was going to save her husband.
Shaun waited until the young woman was out of sight before shouldering his way through the swinging kitchen door. He barged straight through the middle of the freewheeling choreography of chefs and line cooks and waiters, his face pricking even foul-tempered kitchen workers to jump out of his way.
The hushed roar of the banquet hall neither slowed him nor soothed his expression. He pistoned along the edge of the room until he spotted the sommelier, pulling bottles from the bottom of a well-loaded cart. He moved into her space, crowding her until she clinked against the cart. “Jeremy Reid,” he said. “Where is he?”
“Um,” she said.
“Where?”
She pointed toward the ballroom exit. “He’s… he’s…”
“The lobby bar,” she squeaked.
Shaun sped toward the exit, moving as fast as he could without drawing undue attention to himself. He pushed through the doors into the lobby.
The lobby of the Algonquin Waters resort, for all its gleaming wood and arching spaces, was essentially a triangle whose point was truncated by a wide rectangle. The ballroom and smaller meeting rooms ranged along the bottom of the rectangle. One corner of the triangle hosted massive leather furniture in front of a riverstone fireplace that could have accommodated a whole deer on a spit. The other corner was the lounge bar. At the intersection of the triangle and the rectangle, the Oriental-carpet-covered floor opened to allow visitors to descend to the lower spa level via a polished cherry stairway. The same stairway where, if his guess was correct, his little friend was going to come out and cross the lobby to the parking lot.
He knew, from listening to Jeremy, that the hourly employees’ entrance in the back was locked, day and night, accessible only to those who could punch in the pass code. To get in to see him, his blackmailer must have come in through the public entrance, a bank of double doors opposite the top of the staircase.
Shaun speedwalked across the lobby to the bar. Jeremy was behind the faux-distressed bar counter, going over a list with one of the bartenders while the other one watched a football game on the television.
“Jeremy, I need to speak with you right away,” Shaun said in a low voice.
His son looked at him, clearly startled. “Dad? What’s up?”
“Please,” Shaun said, beckoning Jeremy with fingers flapping “urgent.” Jeremy excused himself and stepped away from the counter. Shaun grabbed him by the shoulders and moved them into a position where he was partially concealed by an overgrown ficus. “Can you see the lobby?”
Jeremy looked past the green fronds. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” Shaun let out a breath. “In a moment, you’re going to see a young woman come up those stairs. She’s wearing jeans and a jacket that has NORTH COUNTRY HARLEY-DAVIDSON on it. I want you to trail her, discreetly, to the parking lot.”
“What?”
“When she gets into her car, I want you to follow her. See where she goes. Then call me and let me know.”
His son searched his face. “Dad? Are you drunk?”
“Listen to me. This is an emergency. That woman is blackmailing me. She’s… she going to set up an accident at the mill and claim we’re responsible. Somebody could get hurt.”
“Are you kidding?” Jeremy looked toward the lobby, the bar, and the lounge before settling his gaze on Shaun’s face again. “Dad, if that’s so, call the police. Right now.”
Shaun squeezed his son’s shoulders tightly. “I can’t.” He cut off the start of Jeremy’s protest. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you. I know you’re working right now, and I’m asking you to abandon your job.”
“It’s not that. Things are humming along. I’m practically redundant.”
“Never.” He stared into Jeremy’s eyes, so like his own and his father’s before him. “Please. I need you to do this for me now. Please.” He saw Jeremy’s gaze flick away from him. “Is that her? Do you see her?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Will you do it? For me?”
Shaun felt his son’s shoulders relax beneath his hands. “Sure, Dad. If that’s what you need.”
“Go. Do you have your cell phone?”
Jeremy was already weaving his way between the tables, headed for the open lobby. He slapped his jacket in response. “Right here.”
“Don’t get too close to her. Don’t lose her.” Jeremy was moving out of earshot. “Thank you,” Shaun said. But he didn’t think the boy heard.
Clare was watching when Shaun Reid made his return to the ballroom. He paused in the entryway for a moment and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. Her grandmother Fergusson would have approved.
“Shaun Reid’s back,” she said, pitching her voice to slip under the lively conversations on either side of her.
Russ, across the table, nodded. He twisted his head slightly, as if getting the kinks out, and followed Reid’s progress back to his table. “Shame,” he said. “He’s missed most of the dinner.” Servers were circulating throughout the ballroom, collecting dirty plates and laying out dessert ware.
“
