The Case Of The Vainshed Groom

“What am I supposed to think? I know what I—”

“Shut up and listen to me. Quent lied to me. He—”

“Lied about what?”

“About her. He told me their marriage was a business deal. Merging two households for tax purposes. A marriage-of-convenience kind of thing. He made her sound like a dried-up old lady, always keeping a sharp eye on the bottom line.”

She began twisting her hair again. “Why would he say that? Every time I spoke to Dawn about the wedding arrangements I got the impression she was madly in love with him.”

He shrugged, growing irritable with confusion. “It was none of my business why they got married. She never said much about Quent, and I didn’t have anything to say about him, either. We never discussed their relationship.”

Janine took a step backward. Her eyes widened. “You actually care about her.”

“I care about a lot of people.” As a dyed-in-the-wool feminist, his sister delighted in ragging him about his Neanderthal attitudes toward women. Usually he delighted in egging her on and teasing her with his false machismo. Her accusing manner now made him realize she actually believed at least some of his self-generated reputation.

“You really care about her.”

“We’re friends, nothing more.”

“Look me straight in the eye,” she ordered. “And tell me you aren’t having an affair with her.”

“I wouldn’t lie about her.”

“You lie to the Colonel all the time.”

“That’s different. He enjoys being disappointed in me. I’m just making him happy.”

“Ross…”

He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Dawn and I aren’t having an affair.”

Janine crossed her arms. “So why did Quentin leave?”

He wished he knew.

Chapter Four (#ulink_235a6757-fb0d-516b-ac6d-51fee6d4cf98)

The Duke clan gathered in the resort’s main office. Shunted off to the side, Dawn watched the family. The noise astonished her.

Elise Duke, looking too blond, elegant and young to have four adult children, hovered like an anxious hummingbird around Ross. She poked and prodded his head and peered into his eyes. In the universal maternal gesture, she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you dizzy? Seeing double? Do you have a headache?”

The Colonel posted himself in front of the door. Shoulders back, chin up, he glowered at his son. “State the facts again,” he ordered. “No embellishments. I want to know what you were doing in the honeymoon cabin.”

Behind the desk, Janine sat on her chair. Arms crossed, she shifted her gaze between her brother and father. “He doesn’t have a concussion, Mom,” she said. “Go ahead, call his bluff. Call the paramedics.”

On either side of the desk, Megan and Kara Duke traded stories about Ross as a teenager. Megan said, “Remember when he got caught skinny-dipping?”

Kara laughed and added, “Three girls! What were their names? Debbie Parsons—”

“Not Parsons,” Megan interrupted. “She was Janine’s friend. It was Debbie Calloway. Remember? She started dying her hair in the sixth grade.”

In the middle of all this chaos Ross appeared resigned, as if this sort of fracas were business as usual. How this family functioned when everyone talked at once and nobody paid any attention to anyone else baffled Dawn. In her family communication had been simple: Father had spoken, Dawn and Mother had listened.

A wan, cold sensation gave her gooseflesh and she rubbed her arms. Except the chill came not from the room temperature, but from deep within her soul. Now that the initial shock of Quentin’s disappearance had passed, she felt numb. Witnessing this crew in a free-for-all did nothing to clear her confusion or ease her fear.

She stepped away from a filing cabinet, clearing her throat with a loud, “Ahem.”

“If you saw a prowler,” the Colonel continued grilling Ross, “on the walkway, which is well-lighted, why can’t you describe him? ‘Some guy’ is not a description.”

“Pardon me,” Dawn said.

“Nobody hit you. You tripped and banged your head,” Janine said. “This whole story is fishy. Come clean, Ross. What really happened?”

Noticing a telephone book atop the filing cabinet, Dawn picked it up. Weighing it and her intended action, she decided desperate times called for desperate measures. She whomped the book against the filing cabinet. The resulting bang shut every mouth and turned every eye toward her. Embarrassed, but determined, she replaced the telephone book where she’d found it.

“Pardon me.” She straightened her shoulders. “My husband has been kidnapped. I appreciate very much the way everyone helped me search the grounds for him. As you all can see, he is definitely missing. I should call the police now.”

The Colonel harrumphed. The three sisters exchanged sheepish glances. Elise hurried forward and grasped Dawn’s arm, urging her to sit. Ross gave her a look of unmistakable approval, so warm and focused that for a moment she forgot her situation. Everything centered on his slight smile.

“I agree your husband is MIA,” the Colonel said. “But I do not agree he has been kidnapped. His vehicle is no longer parked in the POV lot. That suggests he is AWOL.”

“Speak English, dear.” Elise patted Dawn’s arm. “Your acronyms are confusing her.”

But Dawn understood the Colonel. Everyone believed Quentin had left on his own. “My car is missing, too.” Her cheeks flushed. At Quentin’s insistence, she had purchased the brand new Lincoln Mark VIII only three weeks ago as an early birthday present for him. It was his car rather than hers, but to have it stolen, leaving her stranded, added insult to injury. “If my husband left of his own volition, he could not have taken both cars.”

“She has you there, Colonel,” Ross said. “Call the sheriff. Let him figure it out.”

“You are not given permission to speak.”

Ross half rose from the chair. Muscles tightened in his jaw and his smile turned thin and tight. The Colonel tensed and his hands curled into fists. The enmity between father and son turned the air electric. Fearing she was about to see them start swinging at each other, Dawn pressed a hand to her mouth.

Ross glanced at her. He dropped back onto the chair.

For a moment the Colonel looked disappointed that Ross refused to fight. “Logistically, given the scenario you present, Mrs. Bayliss, I do not see how it is possible for kidnappers to have accomplished their mission.”

“But we’ll call the sheriff anyway.” Janine picked up the telephone. “This is way too strange, Colonel. Let the sheriff figure it out.” Glaring at her brother as she dialed, she muttered, “If you need to come clean, you’d better do it before the cops arrive.”

Elise took Dawn’s hand. “Come to my office, dear. I have a couch. You can put your feet up. Megan, bring us some coffee.” She looked to her husband again and spoke in a calm, somewhat dreamy voice. “Dear, perhaps it might be a good idea to take one more look around.”

The couple exchanged a significant look, fraught with meaning. Dawn supposed the Dukes were as her parents had been, gifted with a type of mental telepathy developed over many years of marriage. A catch gripped her throat. She and Quentin might never have the chance to develop the art of reading each other’s minds.

Numbly, she allowed Elise to escort her out of the business office, down the hall to the small office where Elise organized receptions, parties and conferences for the resort guests.

“Do forgive my family, dear,” Elise said. “Despite the Colonel’s insistence on strict discipline, my children tend to be willful.” She sounded proud of them for it.

“They are…energetic.” At Elise’s urging, she sat on a camelback love seat.

Ross entered the office and joined Dawn on the love seat. “You’ve got a knack for crowd control. I’m impressed.”