Page 40 of One in a Million
Lila, chic and immaculate in black, stood under the shade of the front porch, greeting a long line of sympathizers and well-wishers. Her feet, in four-inch stilettos, had to be killing her, but nothing dimmed her gracious smile as she hugged and chatted. This was her show, and she was playing her role to the hilt.
A fresh-faced young woman stood a few feet behind her, hovering almost protectively. Sam had been briefly introduced to Lila’s daughter, Jemma Smith, who looked like a pale, youthful imitation of her mother. Dressed in a beige summer suit, with the barest touch of makeup, she seemed to fade into the background next to the vivacious Lila—which may have been her intent.
Someone else was keeping an eye on Lila. Roper stood a stone’s throw away, his six-foot-two-inch frame, topped by a weathered straw Resistol hat, jutting above the crowd. Beneath the brim, his gaze was fiercely intense, as if he were on the lookout for trouble and would be swift to respond to any threat against his boss. That look told Sam something else. Regardless of what he’d said earlier, Lila was more than an employer to this man. He cared about her.
As Jasmine had predicted, no other McKennas were here. After meeting the family, Sam couldn’t imagine them mingling with this pseudo-sophisticated, glittering crowd.
Madeleine, in a white blouse and flowing black silk skirt worn with high leather boots, was holding court under a corner of the shade tent. Sam had expected her to step forward and speak at the ceremony. She’d clearly decided against it but was making her own time in the spotlight now.
Seated in a comfortable chair that had been brought out from her bungalow, she appeared to be holding her listeners in thrall with whatever she was saying, smiling, laughing, and gesturing with her long, expressive hands. Sam’s best guess was that she might be telling entertaining stories about Frank. She was too far away for him to hear, but his gaze roamed the throng of people she’d collected, until they fixed on one man—a man he remembered from Chicago.
With the aid of a sharp defense team, Louis Divino had narrowly escaped charges of money laundering and racketeering before vanishing from the Chicago scene. Now here he was in Texas, appearing prosperous and respectable enough to have pulled his chair up next to Madeleine’s.
But a skunk never changes its stripes. The swarthy, handsome man might have left Chicago, but he would never have severed his mob connections. Madeleine could have used those connections to get rid of Frank and make her move on the ranch.
Sam’s theory involved an unproven leap of logic, but it was worth a follow-up. He would ask Nick to run a check on Madeleine’s phone records and on Louis’ to see if the two had been in touch before Frank’s death. Her bank account records would also be worth checking for any indication of a payoff.
Scanning the crowd again, Sam spotted Darrin seated at a table not far from his mother. He watched her as if awaiting some kind of signal that had yet to come. Simone, wearing a severe black dress that made her look frail, stirred restlessly beside him, probably wanting to leave. Neither of them looked happy.
And Jasmine? It took Sam several minutes to find her because she appeared to be in constant motion. Like a butterfly, she flitted between groups, pausing for brief chats, then moving on. With her vivid coloring, she looked ravishing in her lacy black dress, which was cut to show off her creamy shoulders and tiny waist. The engraved silver cuff adorning her left wrist caught the light, casting rainbows. For Sam, watching her was a guilty pleasure.
But Jasmine wasn’t alone.
Following her footsteps at a distance of a few paces was a stocky man in a navy blue suit. At first, he appeared to be a stranger. Only when he changed direction, showing his face, did Sam recognize him.
It was Charlie Grishman.
His first impulse was to rush in and rescue her. But that wasn’t his place, not unless she was in danger or signaled him for help. He held himself back, watching.
* * *
Jasmine knew that she was being stalked. She could feel the creepy presence behind her, like the stroke of an icy hand down her back. Even without turning around, she knew it was Charlie. He’d been a thorn in her side since high school, when he’d sometimes called the ranch if he knew she was home. Twice he’d even sent flowers on her birthday. Fearful of making the situation worse, she’d avoided telling her father or reporting him to the police. Instead, she’d done her best to ignore his overtures. But evidently that hadn’t been enough. Here he was, making his most brazen move ever—showing up in person at her father’s memorial.
She’d done her best to honor her father today—even wearing the silver bracelet he’d given her for her sixteenth birthday—hand crafted in Taos with a design of jasmine flowers and her name engraved on the inside. She hadn’t liked it that much. But she’d worn it today in his memory. And she was doing her best to be polite and friendly to the guests who’d come. Now here was Charlie, his presence threatening to spoil everything.
She’d never given the repulsive little toad a shred of encouragement. But he never seemed to give up.
Her father, when he was alive, would have run Charlie off the ranch with a shotgun. But Frank’s absence had emboldened the interloper. Now it was her responsibility to make sure he left before things got ugly.
She could summon Security and have him escorted off the property. But the two security guards provided by the catering company had abandoned their posts and were sitting at a table, gorging on barbecue. And this was a memorial to honor her late father. The last thing she wanted to do was create a distracting scene. Charlie needed to leave as discreetly as possible.
Bracing herself, she turned around to face him.
“Charlie Grishman! What a surprise!” She forced a smile. “I didn’t see your name on the guest list.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. He reeked of cologne, which he’d probably poured on to hide the animal smell that had worked its way into his skin. “I’m here as a friend and neighbor, Jasmine. I just wanted to give you my condolences on the loss of your father—and tell you that if you need a strong shoulder to cry on, or just someone to talk to, I’m here.”
“I’m fine, Charlie,” she said. “I understand that your intentions are good, but you should know by now that I’m not interested in a relationship.”
“Are you still mad about that gazelle?” he demanded. “You were right to put the poor thing out of its misery. I apologize for what I said.”
“Apology accepted. Now, since you weren’t invited here, you need to leave while you can do it quietly. Don’t force me to call Security. Let me walk you to the gate.”
“Not yet.” He stood as if anchored to the ground. “I’m not leaving until you promise to go out with me—to dinner. This week. And wear that dress. It’s stunning on you.”
Jasmine knew better than to agree. Even if she said yes to get rid of him now, then changed her mind, it would only open the door to more harassment. “I’m not going on a date with you, Charlie,” she said in a low voice. “Let me walk you out of here before you embarrass us both.”
“So you can be with your FBI agent!” His raised voice was turning heads. “Don’t be a fool, Jasmine! A man like him—” He gestured toward Sam, who was watching from his place in the line. “He’ll be gone tomorrow. Right here you’ve got a steady man who’ll always be nearby for you—a man who’ll work his hands to the bone to provide for your every need.”