Triumph (12 page)

“No, probably not.”

“However, I can’t hang around the powder room. You get to do that.”

“What a thrill.”

 

Moving to music in Deke’s arms felt wonderful, even if his whispers in her ear were less than romantic. He was filling her in on some of the other guests as they whirled in slow circles on the dance floor.

The vast ballroom was packed with guests, and more were arriving every minute. The vaulted ceiling above was an exact replica of a fantasy from another age, decorated with gilt and extravagant paintings of celestial beings among clouds.

A flock of waiters in black tie wove through the crowd with silver trays, offering flutes of chilled champagne to all takers. Deke scored one for Kelly without spilling a drop and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She drank it quickly and another waiter whisked it away when she set the flute down on an empty table.

“You looked like you needed something cold.”

“It is warm in here. Who are those two?” She looked discreetly in the direction of a couple stepping into the spotlight.

“The Hales,” he said. “As in
the
Hales. The richest family in Dallas. And possibly the most distinguished.”

A stately woman decked out in silver bugle beads was escorted onto the dance floor by her white-haired husband. He led her into a dignified waltz.

“Bet you anything she was the belle of the cotillions back in the day.” Kelly’s eyes sparkled. “All white satin and long gloves and sassy as hell.”

Deke agreed with a nod. “Mrs. Hale is a friend of Natalie Conrad, you know. Might even have introduced her to the late Mr. Conrad back in the day, if I remember right.”

Deke did his homework. Kelly hadn’t finished reading all the background material for the guests on his laptop. “Really? Here in Dallas?”

“I’d have to check.”

“Where is our fabulously wealthy hostess?”

“I don’t think Mrs. Conrad is actually here yet.”

“How will we know? There must be close to a thousand guests.”

“Beats me. Listen for a trumpet fanfare.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m sure she’ll be announced.”

His hand moved lower on Kelly’s back, resting at the waist of the sage-green gown she’d brought along. The sensuous material draped perfectly and never wrinkled. The bodice was cut high, but every other part of the gown was cut low or slit up to here. She’d changed out of the blue silk bra into a backless corselette, invisibly boned for elegant support. The sensation of his fingertips on her bare skin made her shiver a little.

“You look fantastic,” he murmured into her ear, his lips brushing against her flowing blond tresses. “The competition keeps sizing you up.”

She glanced toward the gold-papered walls of the ballroom. The younger female guests were standing there three deep, a riot of color in bouffant dresses and sheaths, chatting with each other or their escorts.

“This isn’t a pageant, Deke.”

“No? Who invited so many beautiful women? I don’t know when I’m going to get around to dancing with all of them,” he teased.

Kelly stiffened slightly in his embrace.

“Settle down,” he said soothingly. “I only have eyes for you.” Which didn’t keep him from returning the smile of a taffeta-clad temptress on the sidelines.

“Right.”

The waltz ended and the band segued into a romantic song. Deke knew the lyrics. “My love is real,” he crooned.

“Too bad the bling is fake.” She stopped for a beat and fiddled with the adjustable ring on her left hand. The “diamond” was heavy and the gold-tone band was beginning to itch.

“Can’t tell from a distance. I expect the ladies think you’re my wife.”

“Doesn’t seem to keep them from looking at you.” Kelly clasped his hand again and they danced amidst the others. The elderly couple bowed out to a smattering of applause, and the younger generation got out on the floor.

“Let’s act loving. Put your head on my shoulder,” he instructed.

“You’re too tall,” she muttered into the pleats of his dress shirt.

Deke rested his chin on top of her head. “Relax. Cuddle up. Get a look around.”

Kelly let her eyes close halfway and put on a blissful smile. Actually, she liked this. His arms were as solid as his chest. Black tie suited him. She nestled closer.

No one would interrupt them or cut in. From under her lashes, she surveyed the crush of people in attendance. Deke had continued to brief her while they dressed in their separate suites.

She’d already spotted two of the other agents, both male. They didn’t seem to register her glance at all.

The social director’s ban had been followed, as far as Kelly could tell. It was nice not to be dazzled by flashing cameras, and the glamorous guests could actually see each other without smartphones in front of their faces.

She and Deke had been asked courteously about both in the B-list line before entering the ball. Deke dropped the prepaid cell in an assigned basket, just so no one would get suspicious, and tucked the claim ticket inside his jacket.

Kelly suddenly felt Deke go tense. She took a half step back to look up at him. His thick brows had pulled together slightly over his alert dark eyes. He frowned just before he bent his head and pressed an unexpected kiss on her cheek.

“I need you to kiss me back. Right now. Sorry.”

Hide in plain sight took on a whole new meaning. Kelly took a second to nuzzle the strong line of his jaw first, enjoying the fragrance of fine masculine cologne before she lifted her lips to his.

What a kiss. She was into it. So was he. When he lifted his head, she was breathless.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be. That was—great. Unprofessional, but great.”

“I had to. For a second I thought I saw someone who doesn’t need to know I’m here.”

“Who?”

“He’s gone now.”

“Was he on the laptop?”

“Let’s not talk about it. Dance with me.” He looked down and smiled a little wickedly at her. “You need to fix your lipstick. Maybe you could take a few photos while you’re at it.”

“Back to business, huh?”

He drew her close again, keeping his voice low. “That’s how it has to be.”

 

The evening wore on. The guests kept arriving, providing Kelly and Deke with all the cover they needed. Introductions were made and quickly forgotten amid trivial conversations that ebbed and flowed. Kelly felt at home. Even though not everyone in attendance was from Texas, variations of the dry, warm drawl she knew so well could be heard everywhere she turned.

Deke excused himself. She didn’t mind. Kelly needed to sit and collect her thoughts. She refused more refreshment from a passing server with a tray of flutes. The music and the heat and the sheer number of guests made for a dizzying combination. Kelly knew a second glass of champagne would be the equivalent of a knockout punch.

From a distance, she glanced at him occasionally. Deke stood in a corner with some of the other undercover agents, all men. Idly, she wondered where the Happy Hacker was and tried to remember the woman’s real name.

Alison Powell. That was it. Alison wasn’t among the crowd, as far as Kelly could tell.

Kelly intended to talk to her sooner or later. There had to be quite a story there—Deke hadn’t told her the half of it. She opened her evening clutch and found a small pad with a jeweled pencil and noted down the agent’s name.

Her fingers touched the tube of berry lip gloss. Taking out the mirror-slash-camera, which was tucked into a pocket of the clutch, Kelly applied a dash of gloss and pressed her lips together, enjoying the slick feel. Deke had kissed her thoroughly and well.

She looked over the mirror, surveying the legions of guests in constant motion, hoping to snap another photo of someone from Deke’s laptop. Kelly had already taken several, without being able to view the results in public. Whatever. Her memory and eye for detail were just as useful.

A faint prickle of unease came over her. Someone was watching her from behind—she always knew when that happened.

Kelly raised the mirror and saw a man making his way to her. Leanly built, immaculately dressed. Silver hair. She swallowed hard, keeping her gaze on him. A minute passed. She could hear his steps over the dull roar of the huge gathering and the music.

Gunther Bach’s steely eyes filled the mirror and stared into hers. A chill ran down her bare back. Kelly tucked the mirror back in her clutch and turned in her seat to look up at him. “Mr. Bach. This is a surprise.”

“What are you doing here, Kelly? Do you know Natalie Conrad?”

“I met her several years ago at a gala in Atlanta.”

He inclined his head in a stiff little nod. “Ah.”

“Is she a friend of yours?” Kelly asked innocently.

“One might put it that way. Natalie and I were very close for years.” He didn’t elaborate. “When I received the invitation, I respectfully declined. I knew I would be on my way to Mexico.”

“But here you are.” Kelly smiled brilliantly. “Why?” She didn’t mind badgering him. Not after the way he’d put her on the spot in that restaurant.

“Natalie does not take no for an answer, and my new secretary gave her my itinerary. She called me when my flight landed in Phoenix and—how shall I put it? She persuaded me to attend.”

His cold glance moved from Kelly to the table, taking in the fact that there was no other chair. “Do excuse me. There are other guests here who are dear friends. I would like to speak to them before I leave.”

“Are you still flying to Mexico City?”

Gunther’s reply was edged with venomous disdain. “That is none of your business.” He moved away.

Kelly watched him go. It was as if the crush of other guests had swallowed him. Tall as Bach was, a lot of Texan men were taller. The silver-haired figure vanished. She wasn’t sorry to see him go.

A rich rancher type whirled his pretty partner by in a two-step that had some of the crowd moving back and others joining in on the dance floor. Kelly started a round of applause and gave a whoop, standing up to watch and clap in time, inspiring others to do the same.

The band caught on and launched into a fiddler’s tune with even faster riffs. The dancers kept going as long as they could, walking off the floor a few minutes later. The electric energy they’d generated seemed to go with them. The hubbub died down. More champagne flutes made the rounds on trays lifted high, and so did a mix of costly hors d’oeuvres.

Kelly took a few tidbits on the proffered tiny plate. She’d never been a fan of caviar, but she needed to eat something. Her dinner with Deke seemed like it had happened a week ago. She was wiping her fingertips on the napkin when a wave of fresh excitement rippled through the vast ballroom. Kelly found a place to set down the tiny plate.

Natalie Conrad had arrived.

Broad-shouldered bodyguards in dark suits led the way for the supremely elegant woman who walked behind them, acknowledging the crowd now and then with a nod. Her hair was black with a streak of natural silver in front, parted on the side and falling to her shoulders in a straight, glossy sweep. Enormous diamond drops, brilliantly real, hung from her earlobes, swinging with each step. A fitted evening suit in metallic charcoal revealed long, flawless legs and breathtakingly high heels.

She walked with grace, never stumbling for so much as a second, a faint smile beginning to appear on her face.

The refined simplicity of Natalie Conrad’s style was extremely expensive to achieve. Kelly had been in the media business long enough to know that. She had to admire how the older woman pulled it off.

Her flawless makeup betrayed no hint of her age. Only her lips seemed not quite perfect, blurred somehow—collagen, Kelly realized. The effect was nonetheless sensual.

Her head turned and her gaze alighted on Kelly. Natalie Conrad had remarkable eyes, the deep green of a northern sea, watchful and slightly weary. Kelly reminded herself that the other woman was older by several years than when they’d last met and had lost a husband into the bargain. Some changes couldn’t be helped.

Natalie Conrad’s beautiful eyes narrowed when she recognized Kelly. She walked on immediately, her full lips tightening into a frown of displeasure. Kelly stepped back and let the crowd enfold her.

K
elly edged sideways through the crowd. It took her a while.

No one looked at her. It was a relief.

Seeing Gunther Bach’s cold eyes in back of her hadn’t been fun.
Psychos in the mirror may be closer than they appear
. He’d kept on coming until he was breathing down her neck. Then they’d had that odd conversation. Kelly was surprised he’d talked to her at all.

She was grateful that all eyes were on Natalie Conrad at the moment. Kelly made her way to the open bar, stopping in front of the only bartender without a line at his station. He gave her a friendly smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Just a coke, please.” The ambient noise and crush of people were getting to her. Champagne was still out of the question.

“There you go.”

He served it up over ice as Kelly snapped open her evening clutch. “Thanks.” She put a tip in a crystal vase filled with bills.

The bartender looked over her shoulder and Kelly turned to see a trim, composed-looking man with a clipboard holding a thick sheaf of papers. “Miss Johns?”

“Yes?” He didn’t say how he knew her name, but Kelly could guess. In less than five minutes, a murmured order from on high had been quickly issued to find out what she was doing at the Billionaires’ Ball.

“May I speak to you privately?”

Other guests stepped up and got the bartender’s attention. She might as well play along—but she wasn’t going to let Mr. Clipboard make her feel like a party crasher.

“And you are?” she asked him.

“Neil Atwood. Assistant coordinator of the guest list. My superior asked me to find you.” He fumbled for an ID badge. Kelly glanced at it. Looked real to her.

Closed-circuit cameras were everywhere. He wore an earpiece. Someone unseen must have spotted her making her way through the crowd and directed Atwood to this area. A couple moved away from the bar, fresh drinks in hand, eying her and the coordinator curiously.

“Let’s talk over there.” Clutch in hand, she gestured toward a brocade-padded bench in an alcove filled with dramatic flower arrangements.

“Thank you for your cooperation. I think that will do.”

Kelly led the way but Atwood remained standing while she settled herself onto the bench, sipping her coke.

He riffled through the papers attached to the clipboard. “There is a media list. But you’re not on it. Our oversight, perhaps.”

Kelly decided to brazen it out. “I’m a plus one. I’m here with Russ Thorn.”

“Ah.” Atwood consulted the clipboard. “Tibbett. Thompson. There are several Thorns—and there is Russ Thorn.” He took out a pen and made a note. “His name is listed with a plus-one. It seems we never received your name. Unless your middle initials are T.B.A. for To Be Announced.” He chuckled dryly at his little joke.

Kelly didn’t. “I know what it means.” She finished her coke as Atwood reached into his jacket for a communication device. It hadn’t beeped. Maybe it was wired directly into his brain along with the earbud. He pressed a button and spoke into it.

“Miss Johns is the guest of Russ Thorn,” he said in a low voice. “Yes. Of Dixiecon Capital. Please fill in the blank on the master list.”

How much did it matter now? Kelly didn’t bother to ask. Neil Atwood couldn’t be speaking directly to Natalie Conrad. More likely someone with a larger clipboard. Kelly disliked his officiousness, but she understood that it was part of his job.

“Anything else you’d like to know?” she asked brightly. She rose from the bench and handed her empty glass to a passing waiter.

“No, Miss Johns. And I do apologize for interrupting your evening—just a moment.” He covered his ear to hear what the other person was saying, then talked to her. “It seems that Mrs. Conrad would like to chat with you.”

“Oh?” That was out of left field.

He listened again, his expression unreadable. “In an hour. On the dais. Would that be all right?” he asked Kelly.

“Ah—yes.” The chance of landing an exclusive interview with the no-longer-reclusive Natalie Conrad was why she’d come to Dallas, after all. But there was no telling why she had been summoned into the other woman’s presence.

Atwood concluded the conversation with a nod. “Please meet me here in the alcove and I will bring you to Mrs. Conrad.”

“Not a problem.”

She watched him walk away, then turned, almost stumbling into Deke. His warm hands cupped her bare shoulders, helping her regain her balance.

“Where’d you come from?” she asked, tugging a shoulder strap back into place when she was steady.

“I was making my way over to you at the bar, and then I saw that guy talking to you. He looked harmless. Is he?”

“His name is Neil Atwood. He’s the associate coordinator of the guest list. He wanted to know who I was.”

“Out of everyone here? Why?”

“First things first. I ran into Gunther Bach.”

Deke didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I guess he decided to stay in the US.”

“You can ask him,” Kelly said. “Then Natalie Conrad and I happened to lock eyes when she made her grand entrance. Did you see her come in?”

“From a distance. I didn’t see you.”

Kelly smoothed her dress. “I got the feeling that she recognized me and wasn’t too happy about it. So someone sent Atwood to snap at my heels.”

“You should be on the guest list.”

“You were, with a plus one. Not named. Thanks for not taking care of that.”

“Sorry.” He offered a bland smile. “Sometimes the less said, the better. If they throw water on us, we dissolve. Nothing left but the fake ID.”

He ignored her silent glare, taking her elbow to steer her back into the ballroom. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Kelly blinked in the brilliant light. With the ball in full swing, the whirling dresses and jewels made a glittering display of wealth. “What? Money in motion?”

“No.” He pointed upward. “That balcony. Want to sit there? We’d have a great view of everyone.”

Kelly missed it at first. The balustered balcony projected slightly from the vaulted wall among a row of others. She realized it was the only real one. The others were masterfully painted and designed to fool the eye. From where they were standing, the illusion was perfect.

“Sure. How do you get up there?”

“There’s a hidden staircase. One of the agents told me about it.”

Deke took her by the hand to the other side of the ballroom, where they exited through a service door behind a caterer’s station.

The hall they found themselves in had cinder-block walls that were clean and recently painted, but it was still a jarring contrast to the deluxe décor of the ballroom.

“He said to go twenty steps and then left at the second door.” Deke looked down at her and smiled. “The balcony is three flights up.”

Kelly made sure there was no one coming down the hall, listening for a moment for good measure. “Let’s do it.”

They counted to twenty like kids on an adventure and reached a door that opened into a stairwell. Kelly lifted her dress in front to climb the narrow stairs without tripping, glad when they finally stopped on the landing that led to the balcony. The music swelled and rose in waves, interwoven with the chatter and laughter of the crowd.

Deke didn’t step out onto the balcony. She hung back too.

“Wow,” she said softly. From high above, the grand ball was even more breathtaking. Kelly spotted Natalie Conrad on a dais with her entourage, sitting at the center like a queen at court. There was something that looked like a small house next to her. Not a doll’s house—it was all jutting angles and flat planes.

“That must be the architect’s model of the art museum,” Kelly said, pointing.

Deke looked in that direction. “I think you’re right.”

“Well, that’s something we can talk about. I’m supposed to meet her in about forty-five minutes,” she told Deke.

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“You were being annoying.”

Deke chucked her under the chin. “Don’t be so touchy. Sounds like you’re going to get that interview.”

“Maybe. I have to lead up to it gradually.” She retreated back to the landing. “I don’t want her to spot me up here.”

“Good point. Me neither. We’re not the stars of this show.”

Kelly opened her evening clutch and took out the mirror camera. “Hey, I got some interesting photos. Want to see?”

“Sure.”

She pressed a hidden button and the mirror slid off into her palm. Kelly touched the camera screen. “Slide show, coming up. I believe that’s Agent Two in the first shot.”

“Correct.” He didn’t seem terribly impressed.

“And that’s a waiter,” she went on. “Agent Two is giving him the secret signal for more canapés. The waiter stops and—look past the tray to the left. Bad Guys One and Five are standing right there.”

Deke came closer and studied the screen. “You’re right. Doing absolutely nothing illegal. But you spotted them. Good work. I had a tough time getting close-ups of anyone.”

She scrolled through the shots. Some were random. “I tried to take as many as I could. The memory card holds tons. Sometimes I just put the shutter on auto-click.”

“Smart. Like sports photography.”

“If fixing lipstick is a sport. I never got a chance to actually put any on. Hold this.” Kelly handed him the camera part.

She found the lip gloss and applied it, using the mirror in her palm. Deke occupied himself with studying the photos she’d taken a second time, scrolling back and forth. “Hey. I think you got something important.”

“Besides the canapés? I didn’t get one of Gunther, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m not talking about him. Come here. Check this out.”

Kelly capped the gloss and stuck it back in her bag. “I should go. I don’t want to be late for my chat with Natalie.”

“You have plenty of time to get down there.” Deke put himself and the camera in her way. “Real quick—watch what happens.”

Against her will, Kelly looked down. Deke had pulled up a snapshot of a nondescript male guest in a gray suit. “See what I mean? He’s leaning over that thirtyish woman decked out in emeralds.”

“So? He wasn’t on your laptop,” Kelly said after studying him for a few seconds. “Or do you mean the woman?”

Deke shook his head. “No. I mean him. And he was on it. You didn’t tag him as bad or good. The photo you saw was taken a couple of years ago. Looks like he’s lost a lot of hair since then.”

He zoomed back in until only the couple’s hands were visible. The woman was nervously twisting an emerald bracelet. In photos taken seconds apart, shown quickly, Kelly saw her take it off and rub her wrist. Then the woman half turned, distracted by someone Kelly couldn’t see.

Deke zoomed in as tightly as the camera would allow. The man’s hand covered the removed bracelet. Deke zoomed back to show the whole scene again. The man was steps away from his victim, his back barely visible. The bracelet was gone.

“Huh. I really didn’t see that happening,” Kelly said with amazement. “But like I said, no one wears real jewels to an event like this.”

“Send me the photos, please. I think this woman did. I overheard someone having hysterics over a missing bracelet. The security people were trying to calm her down.”

Kelly took the camera from him, pushing buttons to send the photos to his e-mail. “Really?”

Deke nodded. “I didn’t see her, but I’d bet anything it’s the same woman.”

“Not to be cold-blooded about it, but she should have been more careful. Things like that happen,” Kelly said. “But—how does it connect to your investigation?”

“That guy’s got a record and more than one felony conviction. He’s been out on parole for a while. If the cops can arrest him for grand theft—and I think that’s what we’re looking at—we might get him to talk about a whole lot of other things. He’ll be facing hard time if he doesn’t.”

“Over a bracelet? Why would he risk prison again in the first place?”

“Criminal compulsion. Staying in practice. Just plain stupid. Take your pick.”

“How come I didn’t notice him in action?” she asked.

“You weren’t looking for anything like that. Which is why we work in teams, Kelly. We cover each other.”

“Hmph.”

“Besides, crooks of his caliber have a sixth sense about being watched. I hope we can find him before he gets away.”

The mayhem at the abandoned building at Atlanta came back to her. Investigating was one thing. Dodging bullets was another. “Good luck. That’s where I draw the line.”

“Damn right. I’m not putting you in danger.”

Kelly zoomed in on the bracelet. “Look at those big green rocks. If they’re real, that bracelet could be worth close to a million.”

“Put it in perspective. Gunther Bach probably steals a hundred million every year, maybe more. And he’s still not the biggest guy.”

“I was just going to ask you about that—”

“Later.” Deke gestured toward the stairs beyond the landing. “Let’s go.”

 

Kelly walked quickly around the ballroom’s perimeter, going back the way she came but without Deke. He was mingling again. The bracelet thief had to be long gone.

She reached the alcove a few minutes ahead of time. Neil Atwood was waiting for her, half-concealed by the flower arrangements. He wasn’t holding the clipboard.

“Do I have time for the ladies’ room?” she asked hopefully.

Atwood looked at his watch. “Just barely. Please hurry.”

She dashed in. There was no one in front of the mirror and she didn’t hear anyone in the stalls. The presence of a ladies’ maid guarding fresh hand towels and a tray of little conveniences would limit casual chatter between female guests anyway.

Kelly set her evening bag on the marble counter, then dampened a folded hand towel with cold water and pressed it to her cheeks. Then she ran a small comb quickly through her hair, wishing she’d worn something more demure. The backless, clingy dress would look wrong somehow next to Natalie Conrad’s elegant evening suit.