When Sam heard the office door close, she emerged from her hiding place. Checking the computer screen, she noticed that the menu was filled. Preston seemed to have purchased every on-line service available. In the bottom right-hand corner she saw the icon of a lock and key. Her curiosity piqued, she moved the mouse on the icon and clicked.
A question on the screen asked: PASSWORD. Sam exited the program and returned to the menu. She pressed the SCREEN PRINT key and waited for the page to come off the printer. She folded up the copy and just as she was placing it in her purse, noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Security,” the man said. “Move away from the desk, slowly.” He was tall, tuxedo-clad, and aiming a 9mm pistol at her. His eyebrows slowly formed a brown line across his forehead.
“I just wanted to use the phone. There’s no need to point…”
“Keep your hands up.” The unsmiling eyes and ruddy complexion were almost as threatening as the gun.
Sam rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. This guy was taking his job way too seriously. He probably didn’t even know how to use the gun. She imagined him spending his nights as a bouncer in some dance club looking for wiry accountants to bounce off the walls. Anyone who had to spend his Saturday night playing bodyguard to Preston Hilliard led a sorry life. The thought of swiping the Nambe silver ashtray off the desk just to aggravate the hell out of this guy crossed her mind. But he had that stern look in his eyes that said, not on my watch you don’t.
“Identification.” He rippled his fingers back and forth in a gimme gesture as he backed up to the door.
Great. She didn’t have any on her, not even a driver’s license, which was in the glove compartment of her Jeep. The security guard put his hand on the door knob and opened it slowly, as though getting ready to call for assistance. That was when she bolted.
Back inside the closet, Sam slid the back wall open and ran down the stairs. Her right hand retrieved a small flashlight from her purse. Pressing the button, she lit up her path of flight.
But she wasn’t alone. She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and suddenly remembered why she hated wearing heels. Now she was grateful that her skirt, or lack of one, allowed her room for movement.
She ran to the same freight delivery door she had used in the past and in seconds was hit with the dewy smell of fresh air as it opened into the backyard. Seconds after exiting the door she heard her pursuer. She didn’t have to see him, she could hear him breathing, hear his footsteps. And he was a lot quicker than she gave him credit for.
The backyard was bathed in soft moonlight. She felt damp grass under her feet. Suddenly, strong arms reached around her and a weight slammed into her as she was tackled from behind.
She cried out as she hit the ground. He was up on his feet in a split second. Rolling over on her back, she propped herself up on one elbow and gazed up at the security guard looming over her. His eyes were glued to her legs. When she looked down, she saw her skirt within two inches of being totally obscene.
Maybe the frail female bit might work about now. She slid her hand down her leg. “I think I sprained my ankle,” Sam whined.
One eyebrow on her pursuer shot up. He reached out a hand to her and said, “Get up.”
So much for the Pitiful Pearl routine. Alternate approach needed. She guessed him to be about two hundred, maybe two hundred and ten pounds. But he had broad shoulders, probably into body building. Would not be easy to handle unless she caught him off guard.
She reached for his outstretched hand. As he started to lift her off the ground, she clamped her left hand on top of his and pulled. Her properly placed heel against his chest aided in flipping him over on his back.
He landed with a thud and a “whoooaaa.” She didn’t wait around to see if he had broken anything. Grabbing her purse, she ran toward the front of the house by the employee parking lot, away from the main lot and front entrance.
Once inside her Jeep, she scrunched down behind the wheel and watched the front door to the mansion. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to catch her breath. Glancing over at the passenger seat at her purse containing her camera and pictures, she said, “I hope you’re worth all this.”
“Hey, you okay?” Frank helped Jake to his feet.
Pressing a hand to his stomach, Jake limped along the sidewalk to the front of the house. “Getting away,” he breathed hoarsely.
On a bench in front of the entrance sat a parking attendant. Earphones protruded from the sides of his head as his entire body be-bopped to a phantom tune.
“Hey, buddy.” Frank tapped the valet on the shoulder. “Did you see anyone run by here in the last couple minutes?”
“Excuse me?” The attendant pulled off the earphones. Frank repeated his question. “Sure, people have been leaving in droves.”
“Great,” Jake said. “Just fuckin’ great.”
“What the hell happened?” Frank asked.
Jake leaned over to catch his breath. “I caught someone in Preston’s office, trying to access his computer.”
Frank followed Jake around the back of the house to the basement. “Where are we going?”
I’m just curious to see how the intruder found this entrance.”
Frank followed his partner up the narrow staircase leading to Preston’s closet. “Damn. Someone knew his way around this place.” Once in the light of the office, Frank saw Jake’s torn sleeve and grass-stained pants. “Hell, that guy really decked you.”
“I only wish it was a guy. Him I could have handled.” Jake walked over to the bookcase and removed two figurines. He poked a finger through an opening on the bottom right side of the back wall. By pressing a button, a small green light turned to red.
A deep rumble started in the back of Frank’s throat. “A frail little lady did this to you?”
Jake flipped down the back of the shelf exposing a video recorder. Attached to the ceiling above the bookcase was a surveillance camera.
“Frail. Shiiiit. She was a goddam she-devil.”
Frank pounded the wall and let out a ruckus laugh.
“A woman got the best of Jake Mitchell?”
“That woman,” Jake said, as he popped out the videotape and replaced it with a blank one, was here for more than just the purpose of using the telephone.”
He slipped the videotape into the inside pocket of his tux. His mind flashed back to the woman, the short skirt that had revealed the longest legs he had ever seen, and the most intense blue eyes which seemed to pierce right through him.
They returned to the foyer and followed the hallway toward the kitchen. They located Juanita, Preston’s housekeeper.
“Mr. Hilliard?” With her slight accent, it sounded more like meester heelerd. Her black dress fit snugly around her petite frame. “He is in the living room. But I don’t think he wants you to disturb him.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
Juanita trailed after them. Jake pushed his way in without knocking. He saw the blackjack table and paused.
When Frank saw the attractive, buxom dealer, his eyes glazed over. “Lordy, lordy, am I glad I’m married.” He elbowed Jake. “I AM glad I’m married, aren’t I?”
A familiar figure turned away from the table. It was Captain Murphy. “Have a problem, detectives?”
Jake didn’t reply. He just let his eyes float over the faces of the guests, the councilmen, Judge Becker, some high profile attorneys.
“You have got to be kidding.” Jake stared at Murphy. Although Jake himself had engaged in friendly poker games, the fact that Preston had introduced a strong illegal gambling bill last spring was now laughable.
Preston grabbed Jake’s elbow and steered him back to the hallway. He turned to Juanita who was attemping a fast getaway and barked, “Stay.” Turning to Jake, he said, “I thought you were instructed to keep an eye on the guests.” Preston suddenly noticed Frank’s presence. “And where did he come from?” He ran his eyes up and down Frank’s body not taking great pains to hide the disdain on his face.
Jake tried to refrain from going for Preston’s throat. He could feel Frank pinching his elbow. “You have a very large house, too much for one person to cover. You put me in charge of security. I hired the number of people I thought were needed.”
“Well, a great many of the guests are gone now. You can leave.” He turned to Juanita and waved his hand as though he were shooing her away. “Go, go. Make sure those illegal aliens you hired for this event aren’t stealing me blind.” He disappeared behind the oak door, shutting it tightly behind him.
Jake touched the videotape in his pocket and said, “What an arrogant sonafabitch. Remind me to never work for this ass again.” As he turned to leave, his cellular phone rang.