Kristin Gabriel - Night After Night...

“My son has always had horrendous taste in women,” she said at last, “but they were all just harmless flings. He never considered actually marrying one of them before.”

“Then the engagement is still on?”

“I’m afraid so.” She looked hopefully at him. “Unless you have something that will convince Tobias to dump her. That is why I hired you, Mr. Cafferty.”

He chafed at her haughty tone. Beatrice Hamilton fit the stereotype of interfering mother to a tee. The fact that she was rich only gave her more resources to meddle. Like hiring a private investigator to dig up dirt on her son’s fiancée.

Nate usually tried to avoid this kind of family squabble, but Mrs. Hamilton was paying him enough to make it worth his while. Besides, the case intrigued him.

“Well?” Mrs. Hamilton prodded. “What exactly do you have on her?”

“Nothing substantial,” he answered. “Yet.”

Her mouth thinned. “But you just said she was trouble.”

“I think she is,” he replied. “The woman didn’t even exist until a year ago. At least, no woman by the name of Carleen Wimmer existed. Your son’s fiancée created a whole new identity for herself.”

Satisfaction gleamed in the older woman’s pale blue eyes. “So I was right about her. She is some kind of scam artist. I suspected as much when I met with her.”

“When was this?”

“A few weeks ago, when I realized that Tobias was truly serious about going through with this ridiculous marriage. I called her and asked her to meet me at the Carlisle Hotel. I’d never allow a woman like that into my home.”

Or a man like me, Nate thought to himself. No doubt she could spot his lack of breeding a mile away. He’d been born to a single mother with a drinking problem, so had grown up on the mean streets of Philadelphia fighting for survival. He’d made it, thanks to Harlan Longo, though he still carried the scars—both inside and out. Mrs. Hamilton didn’t ask about his background and probably didn’t care as long as she got what she wanted.

“And the tart had the audacity to turn down the generous offer I made to convince her to disappear from my son’s life.”

Good for her, Nate thought to himself.

Mrs. Hamilton sniffed. “That’s when I knew I needed to find something to use against her, so I hired you.”

Nate wished she’d hired him sooner. The wedding deadline was fast approaching and he would have liked more time to investigate the woman before he initiated contact. He didn’t even have a picture of Carleen Wimmer yet, though he wouldn’t need one after tonight. “Does your son know I’m investigating his fiancée?”

“Of course not. He’d be livid if he knew.” She rose to her feet, obviously too agitated to stay seated any longer. “But someone has to look out for his interests. With his father gone, that responsibility falls to me.”

Nate pulled another file folder from his desk and opened it. “According to my research, Tobias turned twenty-eight last March. Don’t you think he’s old enough to be responsible for himself?”

“What is this?” She snatched the folder out of his hands. “Who gave you permission to snoop around my son’s life, Mr. Cafferty?”

“I don’t need permission,” he replied evenly. “When I take on a case, I have to know all the facts—including facts about your son. If you don’t like it, you can hire another investigator.”

Color flooded Mrs. Hamilton’s patrician face. No doubt she wasn’t used to anyone, especially an employee, standing up to her.

“Perhaps I will.” She set the folder back on Nate’s desk. “It all depends on how you plan to get rid of this woman and how long it’s going to take. The wedding is less than a month away.”

“It’s not my job to get rid of her.” Nate wanted to make that clear. “I’m simply gathering information about her. How you choose to use that information is up to you.”

“I’ll use it to save my son,” she replied, squaring her shoulders, “any way that I can.”

Nate wondered if Tobias Hamilton chose his women on the basis of how much they’d irritate his mother. He’d never met the man, but so far he wasn’t impressed. His limited investigation had turned up a spoiled rich boy with too much time and too much money on his hands. At the moment, he was in Germany playing movie producer and leaving his fiancée behind to the wolves.

The fact that Nate was one of those wolves didn’t bother him. If Carleen Wimmer had nothing to hide, then she had nothing to fear from him. He’d do his job, but he wouldn’t try to destroy her. That was Mrs. Hamilton’s job. Or more precisely, her pleasure.

“So what happens next?” his client asked, obviously eager to begin the demolition.

“I’ve set up a way to meet her through an old friend of mine,” Nate explained. “His name is Harlan Longo and he was happy to offer his assistance.”

“The name sounds familiar.” Her brow furrowed. “Isn’t he that scientist who tried to prove that sleeping on feather pillows increased fertility rates or some such nonsense? I remember reading about it in the newspaper.”

Nate smiled. “He’s the one.”

“Quite the eccentric,” she said. “Are you certain he can be trusted?”

“Yes.” Nate didn’t elaborate. He wasn’t going to justify his actions to this woman. She either trusted him to do his job or not. “I asked him to send Carleen Wimmer an invitation to participate as a research subject in his latest sleep study—with a generous stipend, of course.”

“I assume she accepted,” Mrs. Hamilton said dryly, “since she’s certainly not averse to sleeping for money.”

“She did,” Nate acknowledged. “Harlan gave me full access to the personality profile she filled out—though I have no way of knowing how much of it is true. But I’ll be meeting her tonight in Harlan’s laboratory.”

“Won’t that make her suspicious?”

“Not if I’m just another one of his guinea pigs. I’ll find some way to introduce myself and get to know her.” Nate rose to his feet, ready to end the interview. “Then you’ll have the answers to all your questions about her.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re a very confident young man, aren’t you?”

“I know how to do my job.”

“Quite handsome, as well,” she continued, looking him up and down, “in a rough sort of way. And you have the presence and athletic physique that many young women seem to find appealing these days. Perhaps you are the right man for this job after all.”

Nate walked over to open the office door for her. “I’ll send you an update in a few days.”

“Sooner, if possible, Mr. Cafferty.” She picked up her purse. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Nate watched her walk daintily to the black Lincoln Town Car parked in front of his office. She might look the part of the refined lady, but beneath that austere exterior was a woman not afraid to get dirty.

Now it was up to him to find the dirt.

MIA HALF EXPECTED to find something out of Frankenstein’s laboratory when she went in search of the Longo Research Center later that evening. She held her overnight bag in one hand and a map of the estate grounds in the other. The map had been given to her by the guard at the front gate, right after he’d taken her car keys.

Walking almost half a mile in the crisp autumn air gave her plenty of time for second thoughts about impersonating Carleen. She’d read about Harlan Longo’s eccentricities in the newspaper, which were often accompanied by stories about his generosity to various charities. But traversing his estate by foot in the waning twilight gave her a disturbing glimpse of the man throwing this slumber party.