Page 47 of Bad Seed

“If that man makes love to a woman the way he handles flour, butter, and sugar, someone’s gonna die happy,” she mumbled, and took another bite.

As soon as she finished breakfast, she went straight to the computer and started with the purchasing department and went back a year, beginning six months before Ray Caldwell’s health scare, and began to enter figures on three separate spreadsheets. One tracking the time Ray was there. One after Beaumont’s arrival, and then another spreadsheet for the audit.

The quantities ordered from month to month varied with regard to the numbers of guests at any given time. The cost of products was the same under both timelines. The payments going out to vendors matched the invoices for both Caldwell and Beaumont. The only difference was the lower quality of products.

It was slow, tedious work, like looking through cracks trying to see a panorama. She’d been at it for hours when she received a message from the front desk that her rental car had been delivered and she needed to come sign for it, so she pocketed the key card and her phone, then grabbed her wallet in case she needed to verify her identity, and left the room.

Once she reached the lobby, she saw a tall, skinny man with black hair standing near the front desk. Hisback was to the lobby, but the jacket he was wearing had a big Jubilee Car Rental logo across the back.

“Hi, I’m Harley Banks. I believe you’re waiting for me,” she said.

The young man turned, then smiled. “Yes, ma’am. You requested an SUV. It’s the black Chevrolet Equinox in the front row there,” he said, and pointed to indicate which direction.

Harley looked out the front windows. “Yes, I see it, thanks.”

He produced a clipboard with a rental contract. “If you’ll just sign this, we’ll be good to go, and you did request our insurance policy as well. Is that correct?”

“Yes. Where do I sign?”

He pointed. “Here and here.”

After she signed, he gave her the bottom copy and handed her the keys. “The tank is full. If you have any problems, our number is on your contract. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I’m curious. You resemble someone I know. By any chance, are you related to the Pope family in any way?” she asked.

His polite smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Liam Cauley. My granny is a Pope. She runs Granny Annie’s Bakery downtown. My mom works there, too. Granny makes the best sweets ever…except for maybe my cousin Brendan. He’s the head pastry chef here. His stuff’s right up there with Granny’s. If you go to her bakery, tell her Liam sent you.”

Harley smiled. “Thank you, I will.” Then instead of walking away, she stood, eyeing Liam’s long, lanky stride as he exited the hotel and got into a pickup truck idling in the driveway.

Definitely got the DNA,she thought.

She went back up to her room, dropped off the keys and paperwork, and then headed to the dining room above.

The noon rush had come and gone, but there were still diners scattered about. Harley chose the same table as before. When she was eating alone, having a wall at her back was a safety quirk of hers, and the view from that area was spectacular. She was scanning the menu when her waitress appeared and took her drink order. By the time the girl returned, Harley had made up her mind.

“I’d like a chicken Caesar salad, some savory herb bread, and a refill of this tea when you bring my food.”

“The herb bread is complimentary,” the waitress said. “A fresh batch is just coming out of the oven.”

“Fabulous,” Harley said. As the waitress walked away, Harley caught a glimpse of her reflection and rolled her eyes. “Damn hair,” she muttered, and finger-combed the unruly curls.

A couple of minutes later her bread arrived hot from the oven and with a ramekin of butter. Her first bite was as good as she remembered.Food for the gods,she thought, and was on her second hunk of bread and butter when her salad was delivered.

“Enjoy,” the waitress said as she refilled the tea in Harley’s glass and then hurried away.

Harley read through her emails as she ate, responded to two different requests for her services, informing them she was unavailable at this time. She had an email from her mother, informing her that she was at the villa and that Harley’s father was en route to Houston, and a strange email from Wilhem Crossley, asking her to check in with him. He needed to know if she was okay.

She paused, frowning as she reread the message and sent a one-word response.

YES.

But the actual wording of it bothered her. She’d never had a client follow up like this, and it made her wonder why. The only loose end to that whole case had been never finding out who’d been running that scam, but she’d considered that a job for the police and never gave it a second thought. Until now.

She’d already decided to call him when she got back to her room, and finished her lunch. She was waiting for the waitress to bring her the check, and when she arrived, she gave Harley a small box as well.

“From Chef Pope. For your sweet tooth,” she said.

Instant delight shifted her concern about the strange message.

---