Debbi Rawlins - All or Nothing

“Name it.”

“Not at the hotel.”

“Fine. You tell me.”

She swallowed, her thoughts moving so fast she could barely think straight. She could tell herself all she wanted that she was doing this for her friend, but that was a lie. After thinking she was immune to temptation when it came to show business, he’d snagged her like a hog-tied calf at the county fair.

“FOR GOD’S SAKE, Roscoe, I’ve only been here for two days. No, I haven’t found the ring yet.” Chase held the phone away from his ear for a second and checked his reflection in the mirror. His hair was too long and his shirt collar wasn’t pressed right. It kind of curled up at the tip and touched his blazer. Too late to do anything about it. He had to meet Dana for dinner in half an hour.

“You talk to the police?” Easy to picture Roscoe’s ruddy face, shock of white hair and more eyebrows than three people put together. He’d made a lot of money pumping oil out of his forty-thousand acre spread, and he never let anyone forget it.

“Not yet.”

“What am I paying you for, boy?”

“Expertise.” If he didn’t have a hefty car payment he wouldn’t have considered taking on the private detective work. Chase checked his fly. All was well in that department. “Don’t go telling me how to investigate this case, Roscoe. You don’t want to get me riled.”

“See here, that’s the problem. It’s just a case to you. You don’t find that ring, it’s gonna be my neck on Mary Lou’s choppin’ block.”

He knew Roscoe’s wife, and the man wasn’t exaggerating. Of course that sweet young thing probably couldn’t even boil water or find the kitchen, but Chase got the man’s drift. “I don’t want to talk to the locals until I get my own feel for what’s going on. Tomorrow I’ll meet with security.” Chase went to the window, pushed aside the drapes and eyed the mounting traffic. Good thing Dana had chosen a restaurant that was only a five-minute walk from the hotel. “You know it might help if you tell me why you brought that ring here with you in the first place.”

Roscoe muttered something profane. “I already told you it ain’t relevant.”

Chase wasn’t so sure, but no use arguing. The only thing Roscoe had told him was that he’d come to New York for two days to meet with his stockbroker and find something nice for Mary Lou’s birthday. It made no sense that he had the heirloom ring with him, but he wouldn’t explain. Just acted real odd every time Chase questioned him about his trip.

“One more thing, Roscoe. You having an affair?”

“Go to hell.” Roscoe slammed the phone down hard.

Chase flipped his cell phone shut and rubbed his assaulted ear. This case was beginning to stink worse than a pigsty. Roscoe didn’t want anyone else to know about the theft, not Mary Lou, not even his insurance company. Yes, the police here in Manhattan had been given a statement, and Roscoe had painstakingly compiled a pretty good list of potential suspects for Chase to look into.

Roscoe wasn’t exactly the detailed type, yet he’d included the names of every room-service waiter who had been on duty, every maid, every bellman. Because she’d had a client staying at the St. Martine the day Roscoe had arrived, even Dana’s name had made the list. The guy had done some heavyduty homework. Made Chase suspicious. If that son of a gun knew who took the ring and wasn’t fessing up, he’d have more to worry about than a chopping block.

Although Chase shouldn’t complain. He was getting paid well, by the day, plus expenses, so if it meant that the less Roscoe told him the longer it took to find the ring, that wasn’t such a bad thing. Except, there were two problems with that. One, Chase had known Roscoe for twenty years and the guy normally couldn’t keep his mouth shut about anything. Now all of a sudden you needed a crowbar to get him to open up.

Second, as nice as it was shacking up in a fancy hotel and having play dates with a beautiful woman, Chase had to get back to Dallas by the end of the week to meet with IAD again. His gaze automatically went to the screen on his cell phone. Buddy hadn’t called back yet. They’d traded three calls since yesterday afternoon. It was probably nothing or his ex-partner would’ve been more persistent.

His thoughts returned to Roscoe. If nothing turned up tomorrow after he talked to security and the police, Chase would have to lean harder on the old man. The thing Chase hated most was surprises.

He took a final look in the mirror and tried to flatten the bent collar. But damn if Dana McGuire wasn’t turning out to be quite a pleasant one.

If she was innocent, man, he was gonna feel like crap for lying to her.

“ARE YOU wearing perfume?” Holding a spoon and an open pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, Lynn, Dana’s roommate, poked her dark head into the bathroom and sniffed the air. “You have a date?”

Dana glared at her. “I just bought that.”

“Yeah? Thanks.”

Dana growled with disgust. She knew better. She absolutely knew better. What a dope. “You’d better leave me some.”

“Sure.” Lynn dipped the spoon into the carton. “Who’s the guy?”

“Can you please use a bowl?”

“Then I’d have to wash it.”

Dana shook her head. Yeah, right. The woman didn’t even know where they kept the dish detergent. Man, twenty-seven was too old to have to suffer a roommate. Yet, if you lived in Manhattan there wasn’t a choice. Not for her on the amount of money she made, which on the whole wouldn’t have been too bad if she hadn’t been saving like crazy for her new business venture. Until last month there were three of them sharing the two-bedroom flat and they were going to have to find someone to replace Lisa pretty soon in order to afford the ridiculous rent.

Maybe Kelly had the right idea. Returning to the midwest had major pluses. Rent was relatively cheap, even if Dana chose to go to one of the larger cities. She’d have a car again, a dog and cat, maybe even a date once in a while. But the downside was huge—the humiliation of admitting that she simply hadn’t been able to cut it in the real world.

The true irony was that she hadn’t been the one so hot to leave the small farming community where she’d known every last kid in the small grade school, and at fourteen, shared her very first kiss with Bobby Miller, the captain of the football team. Her mother, her teachers, her high-school guidance counselor, even Maude Maubry, the town’s librarian, had urged Dana to set her sights on bigger things.

She checked to make sure she hadn’t gotten any lip gloss on her teeth, ran a brush through her hair one last time and then exited the tiny ancient bathroom that desperately needed some repairs to the rusty pipes and loose tiles.

Lynn backed down the short hallway. “Since you won’t be home tonight, can I borrow your—?”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Dana edged past her, noting wryly that the ice cream was almost gone. “Have you ever returned anything you’ve borrowed from me?”

Lynn frowned. “I think so.”

“Think again.” Dana grabbed the small black purse she’d hung off her bedroom doorknob. Weird even to carry a purse. Normally she stuck keys, money and her cell phone in her jeans pocket, or in a fanny pack if she wore only Spandex running shorts.

“You coming home tonight?”

“Yes.” She noticed the disappointment in Lynn’s black-outlined eyes. “So do not touch my stuff.”

Dana left the apartment without another word, recalling a time when she would never have spoken to another human being like that. Good old Dana would have given anyone the shirt off her back. All they needed to do was ask. In fact, they didn’t have to say a word. She’d volunteer. Even if it were minus ten degrees outside and she had nothing else to wear.