Cathryn Parry - The Undercover Affair

Lyndsay paused. Curiosity made her stay quiet.

Kitty tried the handle, but the door didn’t open.

“It’s locked,” Lyndsay said. “I was asked not to enter.”

“Well, I want it updated. I hate our furniture, I hate our window treatments, I hate the paint color.” Kitty pulled out her key ring again, and flipped through the keys. Dramatically, she opened the door and stepped inside, waving Lyndsay after her. “Isn’t it ugly?” she asked Lyndsay.

A king-size bed. Two nondescript dressers—his and hers. Two windows with messy old blinds, drawn. That same white paint that was in every other room. Builders’ grade.

Wordlessly, Lyndsay entered the small hall that led to the door into the master bath. Also in the hallway were two walk-in closets.

The safe must be inside one of them. She would check that out later. Turning, she saw a small alcove built into the corner of the room. Here were two more original paintings. Watercolors, smaller than the oil paintings of Kitty downstairs. She peered closer. There was a woman in both paintings, but she didn’t look like Kitty. She sat on the beach in front of this cottage, frolicking with two golden retrievers.

“I want this entire master bedroom area updated,” Kitty was saying, “including new furniture and bedding. And of course I want the master bathroom remodeled by the time I return from my trip. The open sitting room at the top of the stairs, too. So in summary, I’d like the downstairs living room painted and both main floors, up and down, need to have flooring installed. Of course, that is in addition to the master bedroom and bathroom update.”

“Kitty...” Lyndsay warned. It was inconceivable that she could manage all that in two weeks, plus act as an undercover detective.

Defiant, Kitty moved to stand beside her. “I know you have our credit card on file. I know you have a generous limit and more than enough time to implement these small changes for me.”

I can’t do all the flooring, or the master bathroom tiling, Lyndsay was about to say. But Kitty was gazing at the two watercolor paintings with a strange look on her face.

Lyndsay stilled, watching her.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing if these went missing,” Kitty spit.

“What do you mean?” Lyndsay asked, her heart beating faster.

Kitty turned and gave her a cryptic smile, then lowered her lashes. “I’m sure they’re insured.”

Whoa. The cop in her was straining on the leash, eager to interrogate Kitty.

“Who are they?” Lyndsay asked instead, casually. “The woman and the dogs, I mean.”

Kitty snorted. “The less said about that, the better.”

What did this mean? Lyndsay bit her cheek. Had anyone on the task force interviewed or considered Mrs. MacLaine? Lyndsay would bet not.

“Your husband is an art collector?” Lyndsay pressed. She leaned closer to the paintings. The signature was an illegible scribble. “Who’s the artist?”

Kitty laughed. “It’s not important. The important thing is that I’m trusting you with the key to this room. But as a reminder, only you are to enter inside. Absolutely no other people can.”

“No movers? Or tradespeople? I can’t change the furniture or paint the walls in that case.”

“Well, then you must be with them at all times, no exceptions. My husband prefers this door be locked. No one should be left in here alone.”

“Understood.” Lyndsay nodded. She was most excited about the knowledge of the two previously unknown watercolors, and about Kitty’s strange reaction to them. Lyndsay realized she was leaving a whole lot of questions on the table, but she didn’t want to make Kitty suspicious, and there were other avenues she could take to find answers. The investigator within her was chomping at the bit, in fact.

Still, with all this reno work to supervise, it was going to be a very busy two weeks. Good thing she liked to keep busy. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Kitty said. “I’ll be excited to come home and see what beautiful things you’ve done for me.” She gave Lyndsay a heartfelt, happy smile.

And Lyndsay couldn’t argue with that. She liked to see people happy. Who didn’t?

She needed to get the information she’d learned about the paintings to the task force. She would discuss it with Pete during their meeting.

On the plus side, all this work gave her the perfect excuse to skip a few lunches at the Seaside with Andy and his crew.

“You’re a hard driver, Kitty. But thank you for trusting me with your home. You have a good trip, and I’ll have the big reveal ready when you return.”

* * *

KITTY’S RED SUV wasn’t gone from the driveway thirty minutes when the front doorbell rang. Putting down the laptop where she had been looking for anything related to the watercolor paintings—and coming up empty—Lyndsay reluctantly headed to her guest room, where she had a commanding view of the street.

Andy’s van was parked in her driveway. AJ sat in the front passenger seat. Moon in the rear. The engine was idling.

Sighing, Lyndsay headed downstairs and pulled open the door before Andy had a chance to ring the doorbell again.

He met her with a grin. “You’re still here. That’s a good sign, right?”

Unable to hide her own smile, she grinned, too. It had made her quite happy to have some detective work to attend to.

Andy hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re heading to the Seaside. Wanna join?”

Where she would come face-to-face with John Reilly again? Not on his life.

“Wish I could, Andy,” she said cheerfully, “but I’m swamped. Mrs. MacLaine loaded me with work. Would you mind bringing me back a sandwich?”

“Okay. You want an Italian sub?”

“Um, yes, please.” She really wasn’t hungry, but she might be in an hour or so. “Hold on, let me get my wallet.” She held up a finger and dashed to the kitchen before Andy could protest. In two seconds, she was back again. “Here’s a twenty. I forgot to pick up supplies, so if you could throw a few bottles of water into the bag, I’d be grateful.”

Andy took the bill and plopped it into his shirt pocket. Peering at her, he asked, “Is everything okay with you and John? I saw you guys talking this morning. It looked kind of heated.”

She forced a smile. “Everything is okay. Really.”

“Okay. If you say so.” Andy tipped his hat. She remained at the door until Andy hopped back inside his vehicle, then backed the van into the street. From the back seat, Moon gave her a wave.

Smiling to herself, she waved back. But it wasn’t until she’d closed the door that she felt truly relieved.

She could only wait and see what John would do now, then deal with it as best she could. Hopefully the background alias that the task force had built for her would be enough to cover her.

It had fooled Kitty. Pray that it fooled John, too.

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