Not This Time (16 page)

Jeff stopped at the bar near the sink. “Is Robert really as bad as you say, or is it just the change—him being in the picture that bugs you? I need to know, Beth.”

She waffled between honesty, diplomacy, and silence—she couldn’t offer all. Setting her purse next to a crystal bowl of fruit, she shrugged. “Robert is a miserable person. Sorry, but that’s the nicest thing I can say about him.” No blinking light on the answering machine.

“He’s miserable because he’s married to Sara?”

“ ’Course not. Sara adores him. He’s just miserable. But because he’s married to Sara, it makes me sick to have to say it.” Beth tugged off the wet hooded parka and itchy wig then draped them on hooks near the back door. “I wish things had been different, but …”

“Family peace is nothing to sneeze at.” Jeff glanced at notes stuck to the fridge with matching vegetable magnets. “It’s been rough between you guys—more than you first said.”

“No secret there. Everyone in the village knows we’re oil and water.” She looked him right in the eye. “Since Robert blasted into our lives, I’ve had on my party manners—for Sara. It’s been beyond wicked.” Beth leaned against the bar. “But Sara is a family member I picked, not one I got stuck with because of genetics. She’s worth the effort.”

“Your business partner and best friend,” Jeff said. “Also free will choices.”

She nodded.

“Why?” Jeff did look at her then. “You’re nothing alike. She’s so … fragile.”

“We’ve been through everything together. It’s hard to explain those kinds of bonds.”

“Yet you couldn’t protect her from Robert?”

“Sara doesn’t open up to people easily, and I thought he was harmless.”
Boy, had she been wrong about that. “By the time I realized he wasn’t, it was too late.” Beth checked her cell phone, then set it on the bar. “I couldn’t protect her.” Admitting that grated. “What can I say? She fell in love.”

Jeff looked away, clearly assimilating. If he could figure out a cohabitable peace for the three of them, no one would rejoice more than Beth. But Robert didn’t grasp the rudiments of compromise and he had no interest in peace. Control was his weapon. His way, or no way.

“So what happens now?”

Jeff darted his gaze as if mentally shifting gears, and worry dragged at his face. “We figure out how to get two million in cash in the next”—he checked his watch—“fourteen hours.”

Dawn
. Beth grabbed a soda from the fridge. “Want one?”

Jeff nodded. She passed him a drink, then flipped the top open on her own. It clicked, then hissed. “Obviously we can’t bother Sara with this. So what do you recommend?”

“She’s stable.” He hiked a shoulder. “I thought I’d have an agent go to the hospital—”

“No.” Beth’s can clanked against the bar. “She’s stable compared to being dead. You tell her about this demand, and she’ll slide right into another attack. I guarantee it.”

“But, Beth—”

“No. We are not taking that risk.”

He held up his hands. “Look, this is my job and my responsibility.”

Ego? Surely not. “If you want to be responsible for her death, then do it your way.”

“What’s our alternative?” He slid a hip against the cabinet and leaned toward her. “We’re talking two million. If not from Sara, where are we supposed to get it?”

“It’s a lot of money. Give me a second to think.” Pacing between the bar and sink, Beth dragged her teeth over her lower lip. She couldn’t take the money from SaBe. Henry Baines would have a fit, and with good behavior it would
probably take him a decade to recover. No, messing with Henry wasn’t worth the fallout. SaBe funds were out. She paced some more.

“Well?” Jeff leaned back, folded his arms and stretched out his legs, then crossed them at his ankles.

Near the wine cellar door, Beth stopped. “I’ll have to fund it.” That was the path of least resistance and the most expedient solution. Since it was for Robert, it chilled her blood, but it was the right thing to do.

“You’ll fund it for Robert?” Jeff looked taken back, and even more suspicious.

“Absolutely not. I’ll fund it for Sara.”

“Can’t you draw it from her funds?”

“I have several powers of attorney for her but not for anything like a kidnapping. I suppose I could use one under our emergency clause. I’d have to check with Nick Pope in Legal, but it probably wouldn’t be wise to do it.”

“Why not?”

Keep your mouth shut. Things get twisted
. “I’d rather not say.”

He frowned. “Under the circumstances, I have to insist.”

She worried at her lip with her teeth. If he thought she was willing to fund this because she’d had Robert kidnapped and would get her money back, then that could be really bad. She’d better nip that notion in the bud. Still, she hated revealing what she must to do it. “Robert moves her money. Sara nearly had a check bounce because he didn’t bother telling her where he’d moved it. Fortunately, she’d been a good customer, so the bank called her to cover it.”

“And he’s still breathing?” Jeff grunted. “Bet she threatened to rip his heart out.”

“Sara doesn’t do rip your heart out,” Beth said with a little sniff. “She was embarrassed—humiliated, actually—but all she said was that they’d had a serious discussion about it.” Serious discussion. What
exactly
did that mean?

“I’m sure they did.” Jeff’s lip curled. “What would you have done?”

“Removed his power of the pen on everything financial, and then threatened to rip out his heart and feed it to the fish.”

Jeff didn’t look surprised. “That’s what I’m talking about. A woman with true compassion.”

“I’ve got tons of compassion, just no patience with people who put me in embarrassing situations.” Beth took a swig of her drink. Max taught her well.

“I hear you.” Jeff straightened the pale blue tie pressed against his once-crisp white shirt. “Why not use SaBe funds?”

“It’d take too long to do the paperwork. Our senior attorney is a hybrid accountant—corporate law. He’s as brilliant as Churchill but a stickler about paperwork. Way too cumbersome for our purposes.”

“Are you saying he wouldn’t do it—for Sara?”

“Henry Baines would die for Sara. He adores her.” Beth leveled a look that spoke volumes. “But this isn’t for her.”

“Ah, so Henry doesn’t like Robert either.”

“I don’t speak for anyone but me.”

“But off the record?”

“I suspect with constant nagging, Henry would round up the cash for Robert in about two weeks.”

Jeff rubbed at his jaw. His beard stubble made a light scratching noise. “That’s a little past the dawn deadline.”

“Just a tad.” Resignation settling into her bones, Beth grabbed the phone off its cradle. “That leaves the funding to me.”

“I’m sure Sara will appreciate it.”

Punching in numbers by rote, she glanced over at Jeff. “She’d expect it. And if I didn’t do it, she’d never forgive me.”

“So you’re doing it to keep the peace with her?”

“No,” Beth said. “I’m doing it to keep you from putting Sara back in ICU by asking her for it. She might not recover next time.” Beth paused. “I know her, Jeff. No matter what the doc says, she won’t be stable until Robert’s safe at home.” Beth stilled, then added, “And because she’d do it for me.”

“The money could be lost. You should know that up front.”

“I figured.” Beth crooked the receiver at her ear. “No guarantees and all that.” The idea of losing two million for Robert made her queasy, but the idea of having to tell Sara she wouldn’t risk it was worse. The guilt of wishing Robert gone a million times didn’t help. But it was her words to Darla that most haunted her. Refusing was cowardly. She could be obedient and pleasing or not. It was that simple, and that complex.

A woman answered the phone. “Green Enterprises.”

“Beth Dawson for Darla Green, please.”

Kyle came in and Jeff passed him the ice chest. “Lab’s ready and waiting. Tell the others Beth’s working on getting the money.”

“Yes sir.” Kyle lingered to listen to Beth’s call, unabashedly curious.

“Hi, Beth,” Darla said. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I’m glad you called. We not only met but exceeded Sara’s fund-raising goal. Tell her we raised $2.7 million.”

“That’s great news. Thank you, Darla.”

“So I heard down at Ruby’s that Sara’s out of ICU.”

Gossip grapevine was fast today. Probably because the rain had everyone inside. “She is.” Beth rubbed her pounding forehead. “Don’t shoot me, but I need another favor.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“An emergency, but please don’t ask its nature.” All any of them needed was for a society rag to get a hold of this information. Or worse, Robert’s friends. The repercussions to SaBe could be significant.

“Can I help resolve it?”

“Indirectly.” Beth rolled her gaze toward the ceiling and got down to business. “I need two million dollars in cash in twelve hours. I have the assets, but I can’t liquidate that quickly.”

“Hold on.” Music flowed through the phone. A long minute later, Darla came back on the line. “Dennis Porter’s conferenced in with us, Beth. Dennis, Beth needs two million in cash in twelve hours. As VP of Community Bank, will you please handle that?”

“Twelve hours?” He stammered. “Is that what you said, Darla?”

“Yes.”

“But—but I can’t get two million to the village bank in twelve hours. I need a couple days.”

“Beth doesn’t have a couple days. If she did, I wouldn’t be asking for it in twelve hours.”

“Darla’s right, Dennis,” Beth interrupted. “I know making this happen won’t be easy.”

“Beth, allow me,” Darla said. “Dennis, Beth is up to her earlobes in alligators. This isn’t a debate. She has the money. We both know it, so get her the cash.”

“It’s not that simple, Darla.”

“If it were simple, I’d handle it myself. Now, I have every confidence that when Beth steps up to the bank’s front door at three o’clock in the morning, you will be there with the money, ready and waiting for her. I’ll be there to see it. Have I made myself clear?”

“I—I can wire it out of your STAR fund immediately, Beth,” he suggested.

That was her mad money, and the kidnappers wouldn’t take a wire. “It has to be from my personal accounts, and no wire or cashier’s check. I need real money. Cash.”

“You can’t walk around with that kind of money in cash.”

“I need cash.”

“I don’t have that much on hand.”

“Dennis,” Darla cut in again. “You’re not hearing me. Handle it—and never tell a woman what she can and can’t do with her own money. It’s offensive.”

“I was just trying—She has no protection, Darla.”

“A fact she surely knows since she was bright enough to earn every penny.”

“But—but—”

“Twelve hours, Dennis. Front door. Cash. Good-bye.” A click sounded, then Darla added, “Sorry about that, Beth. He’s protective.”

He was right. “Will he have it?”

“Definitely. Dennis would never disappoint me.”

He wouldn’t. She’d buy the bank and fire him. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Any time.”

Beth hung up, then looked at Jeff. “Okay, that’s done. What’s next?”

He frowned. “It isn’t done. No bank in the village has that kind of money in its vault. Porter will have to get—”

“Dennis Porter will have the money at the bank’s front door at three o’clock.”

“He’ll want to, he’ll try, but there’s no way he can do it.” Jeff raised his hands and clasped his face, dragged his fingertips down to his chin. “You’ve asked the impossible.”

“No, I didn’t. Darla did.”

“You’re not hearing me, Beth. He can’t do it.”

“He can and will. Dennis Porter was John’s best friend his whole life. He’ll find away.”

“That’s why you called Darla. Widow of his best friend had better odds of success.”

“Yes.” Beth brushed off his impatience, studied him closely. “You don’t have much faith in people, do you?” The reserve would deliver to the local banks in the morning. Porter and the other banks worked together, and if he had to wake every banker in town, he’d get the money. Jeff was right. No village bank vaulted that much cash, but competitors—especially those in small towns—helped each other because next time they might be the one needing help. Jeff didn’t seem to get that.

Well, it was a little opportunity for him to grow as a person. For something good to come from all this bad stuff.

No answer.

“I said, you don’t have a lot of faith in people, do you?” she repeated.

He looked exasperated but kept his tone civil. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“Everything.” Her soda was warm. She filled a glass with ice and drained the can into it. It fizzed and the ice cubes crackled. “I have faith in some people,
and Darla Green is one of them. Dennis will get the money. Not for me, but for her.”

“He can’t perform miracles. Neither can she.”

“We’ll see how it works out at three o’clock.”

Jeff frowned. “You know I arrested her for John’s murder. I mean, you do understand that Darla’s guilty and her former sidekick Johnson’s taking blame covering for her, right?”

“I’ve heard the gossip.” The village grapevine hadn’t missed a thing.

“It’s a lot more than gossip.”

“Then why isn’t she in jail?”

“I’m not a lawyer or a judge. Maybe they know she killed the mayor but can’t prove it. Or maybe they botched the prosecution and with Johnson’s confession the conviction wouldn’t hold up on appeal. Or maybe they cut her loose to see what she would do, who she knows, and if she was acting with just Johnson or with a larger group. Maybe with NINA.”

“Oh, please. You think Darla-the-Airhead-Green works with NINA?”

“She’s not an airhead, Beth. She’s shrewd and ruthless.”

She wasn’t an airhead. “She was John’s trophy wife. And she can’t be that shrewd or ruthless or she’d go to someone a lot smarter than me for business advice.”

“You’ve done well.”

“With computers. Business is a maze I crawl through on my knees.”

“Think, Beth. Who better to sting you than someone you never see coming?”

Roxy and Lisa, Mark—Joe—none of them shunned Darla. “I don’t believe it. Those in a position to know welcome her in their circle. Roxy invited her to the ceremony, for pity’s sake. They’re not stupid.”