With This Fling. Jeanie London
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But I’ve used the same service since your grandmother hired them nearly sixty years ago. You can understand I’m wary about making accusations without proof.”
Mac understood his grandfather’s concern and agreed with his assessment of the house staff’s trustworthiness. Pearl had been stuffing the family full of her Deep South specialties for as long as he could remember and James had spent nearly twenty years trying to direct Mac and his siblings’ activities outside of the house, where the aftereffects were less noticeable.
“I know Mrs. Noralee’s daughter is still running their business, Grandfather, but she has turnover with her staff. It’s possible she’s hired someone she can’t trust.”
“I agree, which is why I called some friends who use her cleaning service to see if they’ve had any problems.”
“Good idea. What came of it?”
“Five other clients with similar losses.” Harley reached for a document in front of Josh, handed Mac what turned out to be an inventory list. She was cool, professional, nothing in her expression letting on that they’d ever discussed a fling during the wedding. “They’re all missing small, high-ticket items that usually aren’t noticed immediately.”
Mac scanned the list, recognized the names. He glanced up at Josh. “Miss Q’s been hit, too.”
Josh nodded. “Basically we’ve got Nice and Neat as the commonality, with a staff of twelve who regularly service the Garden District on rotating schedules.”
Mac turned to his grandfather. “I don’t see why the police can’t investigate, so we can start attempting to recover the stolen items.”
Unfortunately, the chance of recovery was slim, and one look at his grandfather’s expression told Mac he knew it. Which left Mac to vainly question why, out of all the valuables in the family home, his grandmother’s rings—irreplaceable for their sentimental value alone—had been taken.
“That’s why I’m here, Mackenzie,” his grandfather said. “We want to move quickly. We’ve all lost things that mean a great deal to us. We’re pooling our efforts and hiring Eastman Investigations to investigate.”
“I’m still missing something here.” Mac cast a sidelong glance at Harley, found her watching him with an expression that revealed nothing.
“We can’t go to the police because of Noralee,” his grandfather said as if that explained everything. “She’s a good friend. She started Noralee’s Nice and Neat over sixty years ago. Those were different times, Mackenzie. Most women didn’t run businesses back then, especially African-American women.”
Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his hands before him, looked thoughtful. “Noralee was the Eastman’s housekeeper until she approached Josh’s grandfather about investing in her business. He backed her financially and Quinevere used their social contacts to help her find clients. She ran her business successfully until passing it along to her daughter when she retired. Evalee runs it now and has been training her daughter to take over. Nice and Neat has become a family operation with a sterling reputation that we don’t want to damage.”
“Someone is stealing.”
“I agree but until we know if Noralee’s daughter and granddaughter are involved, we’d prefer to handle it quietly. You’ve met Noralee, Mackenzie. She’s older than I am and has worked so hard. We don’t want to see her reputation harmed for no good reason. You need to find out what’s going on. If her daughter and granddaughter aren’t involved, the situation can be handled internally, quietly. If they are, well, at least we can warn Noralee before going to the authorities.”
“What are your thoughts on this?” Mac asked Josh, who rocked back in his chair and shot him a narrowed glance.
“I’ve been backed into a neat corner,” he said.
“Really?”
“Really. Your grandfather has been reminding me how instrumental my grandfather was in starting Nice and Neat. He believes that makes me invested in the outcome.”
“And…” Harley leveled her gaze at him. “Your grandfather threatened to sic Miss Q on him if he doesn’t take the case.”
Mac glanced at his grandfather. “I’m surprised you’re playing the personal card here.”
“Why should you be? It’s one of the few cards I have to play today and I want you to take our case.”
Harley chuckled and Mac looked back at her, even more surprised by her amusement than he was at his grandfather pulling rank. Laughter brightened her eyes and softened the edges of her beautiful face, an unexpected and welcome change from sarcasm.
His grandfather returned her smile. “I want you all to give it some thought before you decide. We’ll pay your professional fees and expenses and in addition, we’re offering generous cash rewards for the recovery of any of the stolen items.”
“I appreciate cash bonuses as well as the next guy, Stuart,” Harley said. “But I see a problem.”
Josh leaned back in his chair, watching her as if he knew what was coming. All eyes fixed on her, waiting.
“We can run background checks on the Nice and Neat employees, but we can’t conduct an investigation any more quietly than the police. If we don’t explain ourselves when we ask questions, we won’t get the answers we need. Now you’re looking at inside surveillance.”
“Which dramatically increases the time it’ll take us to get information,” Josh said.
“Which decreases our chances of recovering the stolen items,” Mac added.
His grandfather waved a hand dismissively. “You’ll work it out. I have total faith in your abilities. That’s why I’m here.”
“Give us twenty-four hours to do some research and discuss the case, Mr. Gerard.” Josh rose, effectively bringing the conversation to an end. “I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know what we come up with. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” his grandfather said.
Mac stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
Leading his grandfather outside, he waited until they were in the parking lot of the upscale professional plaza that housed Eastman Investigations before saying, “I’m sorry they took Grandmother’s rings. I know how much they mean to you. And me, too. I’ll do whatever I can to get them back.”
To Mac, his grandfather looked much the same as he always did. His hair was whiter, his face more lined, but he still stood tall, a proud man with an easy smile. And when he slid his hand over Mac’s shoulder and squeezed, the gesture felt the way it always had—a vote of unfailing confidence.
“I know you will, Mackenzie. I’m counting on it.”
Mac watched his grandfather drive from the parking lot and disappear into traffic, while he considered the various ways to tackle this case. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the elegant diamond and platinum rings in his memory.
“My father used to say my engagement ring was as big as an ice-skating pond,” his grandmother had once told him. “So I’d ask him when he’d ever seen an ice-skating pond, since he was born and bred in New Orleans.”
“When had he?” Mac had asked.
“He hadn’t. He was only teasing me, dear. He could never decide if your grandfather had bought such a big diamond to prove his worth or because he liked to show off.”
This accounting was so different from the grandfather Mac knew that he’d asked curiously, “Why did he?”
She’d gazed lovingly at her rings with one of those expressions that usually warned Mac it was time to dodge a hug. “Your grandfather wanted an engagement ring to always remind me of how much he loved me. He said this was the biggest he could find and it wasn’t nearly big enough.”