Page 6 of Killjoy (Buchanan-Renard 3)

Her niece did continue to work with Carrie every summer, but she hated leaving the office to meet with company executives. Carrie couldn’t understand her reserve. Avery didn’t seem to know—or if she did know, she didn’t particularly care—that she was, as Tony often remarked, a knockout.

  The problem with her niece was that she wasn’t the least bit superficial. She was sweet and wholesome and had a firm grasp on what was important in life, and what wasn’t. But what could Carrie expect? After all, she’d raised her to sort out such things. Ironic, Carrie thought, that she herself should end up working in a field consumed with the superficial. What a hypocrite she had turned out to be. When would she learn to practice what she had constantly preached to Avery? Maybe after she made another couple of million?

  Carrie had eventually become excited about the spa. Once she had made the decision to go, she called Avery and begged her niece to join her at Utopia for one week. She knew Avery was using part of her vacation to chaperone teenagers around D.C., and Carrie tried to guilt-trip her into giving her family equal time. Carrie was feeling confident that Avery would come for at least a few days, but knew she would have heart failure if she ever found out how much the stay would cost her aunt. Carrie didn’t have any qualms about paying the fee for Avery. She would do anything for her, anything at all. Probably because Avery never asked her for anything. Carrie didn’t know how her niece could live on the tiny salary she made, and though she offered her money every time she talked to her, Avery always declined. She was doing just fine, or so she said.

  Avery kept her grounded, and in the back of her mind, she knew that her niece wouldn’t let her get swept up in the moment at Utopia and sign up for every treatment available.

  Avery was going to pitch a fit when she found out that Carrie was thinking about booking an appointment for liposuction. She smiled as she thought about the argument her niece would give. Avery would shake her head when she saw her workout clothes too. Everything matched and had designer labels. Oh, yes, Avery would roll her eyes, no doubt, and then launch into her favorite lecture about getting fit and healthy.

  God, how she missed the brat.

  “What are you smiling about, honey?” Tony asked.

  Jarred back to the present, she realized both her husband and their marriage counselor were staring at her. She shrugged to cover her embarrassment. “I was thinking about all the things I need to think about.” That nonsense was the best she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

  Dr. Prick looked pleased enough to roll around in the mud with his inner child. He nodded agreement and then stood, indicating the session was finally over.

  Tony towered over her as he walked by her side to the waiting limo.

  “You sure you don’t want me to ride to the airport with you?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Did you remember to bring the reservation?”

  “Yes.” She pulled away from her husband when the driver opened the back door for her. “I still haven’t heard from Avery, and I’ve left three messages for her. I was hoping to talk to her before I left L.A.”

  “You know how busy she is at work. She probably just hasn’t had time to call you.”

  “But what if there’s an emergency while I’m away?”

  “Then she’ll call me or try to get you on your cell phone.”

  “I don’t like the idea of her working with children. It’s too hard for her. She—”

  “She wouldn’t do it if she didn’t love it,” he pointed out. “You’ve got to stop worrying. Avery’s a big girl now.”

  “Check my e-mails when you get home,” she said then. “Maybe she sent me a message.”

  “Yes, I’ll check and call you.”

  “The parole hearing is the sixteenth. I wonder if Avery was notified yet. I just got my—”

  “Of course she knows. Why are you worrying about that now?”

  “I can’t miss,” she snapped. “I always go with Avery. Both of us speak before the board decides . . .”

  “Honey, you aren’t going to miss the hearing, and neither will Avery. It’s a month away, for Pete’s sake. You didn’t miss the last one, and you won’t miss this one. Now try to relax. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

  She nodded. “Yes, okay.”

  She hadn’t sounded sincere. Frowning he said, “You’re tense because you haven’t had any time off in such a long time. It’s just last-minute jitters.”

  She nodded again, then tried to get into the car, but Tony grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve always loved you. From the moment we met. I want this marriage to work again.”

  “Yes, I know,” she answered, her tone dismissive.

  The second the car pulled away from the curb, Carrie reached for her laptop. She had just turned it on when her cell phone rang. Assuming that it was Tony calling to once again nag her about their marriage, she answered curtly.

  “What is it now?”

  “Guess what?” Avery said.

  “Hi, sweetie. I thought you were Tony. Are you enjoying your vacation?”

  “Not yet,” she answered. “I’m finishing up some last-minute details at the office. I had a big meeting with my new boss a couple of days ago, and I can’t wait to tell you about the case I helped solve. How about sharing a late dinner in Aspen?”

  Carrie screeched. “You’re going to join me? All my nagging and browbeating worked?”

  “If I say yes, then you’ll just get worse. Guilt worked this time, Carrie, but don’t think—”

  “What happened to the kids you were going to drag around Washington?”

  “The trip got rescheduled.”

  “Ah. So I win by default.”

  “Do you want me to come or not?”

  “Of course I want you to come. I’ll call Utopia right away. Have you got your flight yet?”

  “I’m looking at the computer screen right now. I can get a connecting flight in Denver, but I won’t get in until late,” she warned.

  “Now I’m excited. We’re going to have such fun. Let me know your arrival time. As soon as you’ve booked it, call me back. See you soon, Avery. Love you.”

  Carrie’s frame of mind vastly improved. She disconnected; then she called Utopia. After that, she went to work. She made notes until the limo pulled up to the airport. The lines through security moved at a snail’s pace. Carrie, shifting the strap of her carry-on from one shoulder to the other, took a palm recorder from her purse and dictated instructions for her office staff. When the plane had taken off and she was comfortably seated in business class with a chilled glass of Chardonnay, she opened her laptop and went to work again.

  Her thoughts kept going back to Avery. She could call her now, she decided, and find out what time her flight was. She reached for the phone hooked into the armrest, then changed her mind. Better to wait. If she used the plane phone, she’d have to shout to be heard over the drum of the engines and the static, and then the other passengers around her would hear every word.

  As soon as she got off the plane in Aspen, she moved out of the main traffic stream and sat down to dig through her carry-on for her cell phone. She’d pulled everything out before she remembered she’d stuck the phone in her purse. It wasn’t like her to be so disorganized, she thought as she closed the carry-on. She happened to glance up and see the man holding a sign with her name on it. Another limo driver, she assumed, dressed in a dark navy business suit. He was quite distinguished looking and handsome, a younger version of Sean Connery. She quickly stood as she tucked the phone in the pocket of her blazer. Adjusting the collar of her blouse, she called out, “I’m Carolyn Salvetti.”

  His smile was dazzling. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Salvetti.” He had a charming British accent. The name tag pinned to his lapel read “Mr. M. Edwards.”

  “Are you with Utopia? . . . The spa?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am,” he said. “Do you have your reservation with you?”

  She reach

ed for her travel bag. “It’s right here.”

  “Oh, I don’t need to see it, Mrs. Salvetti. I was to make certain you had the papers with you. Shall we go get your luggage?”

  She felt ridiculous, all but running in her Manolo Blahnik slingbacks, trying to keep pace with her long-legged escort. She slipped once, and if he hadn’t grabbed her arm to steady her, she would have fallen on her face. She’d meant to change her shoes before she got on the plane, but then she’d gotten caught up in work and had forgotten about it.

  They passed a phone bank that reminded her she still needed to know Avery’s flight itinerary. Damn it, she’d told her to call as soon as she’d booked her flight. Carrie knew what had happened. Avery had gotten waylaid with work and then had to run to get everything done.

  It was probably too late to catch her at work or at home. She was probably already at the airport or perhaps on the plane now. Still, Carrie wanted to try. Maybe Avery would check her phone messages when she got to Denver. Yes, she would call as soon as they reached the baggage claim area.

  “Will any other guests be going with us to the spa?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “There are two other guests. They’re waiting in the lounge. As soon as I pick up your luggage, we’ll head out.”

  “Do you have anyone scheduled for pickup this afternoon or this evening?”

  “No, this is my last trip. Why do you ask?”

  “My niece, Avery Delaney, is joining me at the spa.”

  Her comment so surprised him he stopped in the middle of the corridor. “You were expecting Miss Delaney to join you?”

  Hadn’t she said so? “Yes,” she said. “But she’s flying out of D.C. If you aren’t scheduled to come back and pick her up, the spa must be sending another escort.”

  They continued walking. “Yes, that must be so,” he said, sounding somewhat preoccupied.

  “I don’t have Avery’s flight information, but she might have called the spa to tell them so someone would pick her up. Could you call Utopia and find out? It would be lovely if we could wait for her. I do know she’s coming through Denver,” she thought to add.

  “I’ll be happy to call the spa,” he said. Glancing around, he nodded toward a line of empty chairs in front of a deserted gate. “Why don’t you have a seat.”

  He was placing her carry-on at her feet when she asked, “What does the ‘M’ stand for?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Your name. ‘Mr. M. Edwards.’ What does the ‘M’ stand for?”

  He saw no reason to lie. “Monk. The ‘M’ stands for Monk.”

  “How delightfully different.”

  “I prefer that all clients call me Mr. Edwards.”

  What a stiff-neck, she thought. “Yes, of course.”

  “If you’ll excuse me . . .” He moved to the window as he pulled out his cell phone. Carrie grabbed her bag and went after him. She wanted to ask him to find out if there were any messages waiting for her at the spa.

  His back was to her as she approached. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Edwards.”

  Startled, he whirled around. “Hold on,” he said into the phone. Then, “Yes?”

  “Would you ask the receptionist if I have any messages?”

  He repeated the question, waited a moment, and then shook his head. Carrie felt foolish standing there and so she went back to the chair and sat down.

  He wasn’t on the phone long, and when he returned to her side, he picked up her bag and apologized for the delay.

  “There is another escort assigned to Miss Delaney.”

  “Couldn’t we just wait?”

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something?” he asked.

  His preoccupation was irritating. “I asked if we could wait for my niece.”

  “I’m afraid not,” he replied. “The other two clients have been waiting for you. I couldn’t ask them to wait even longer. I hope you understand.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “The others will, no doubt, appreciate your cooperation.”

  “Who are they?” she bluntly asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I was asking, Mr. Edwards, who the other clients are.”

  “Mrs. Trapp is from Cleveland, and Judge Collins’s plane arrived from Miami.”

  Carrie hadn’t heard either name before and wondered if they were famous. She certainly hoped so. She could use as many influential connections as she could get. Maybe the judge was one of those celebrities on television. Wouldn’t that be something?

  They finally reached the baggage claim area and joined the hordes of passengers pushing their way to the front. “How long will the drive to the spa take?”

  “Not long,” he answered. “You won’t be going directly to Utopia this evening, however,” he added. “There was a problem with the water main, but it will be repaired by midnight. So that you won’t be inconvenienced, the director has made arrangements for you and Mrs. Trapp and Judge Collins to spend the night at a private retreat.”

  Carrie was about to protest that, yes, it was an inconvenience. She would have to unpack and then pack again, but then Mr. Edwards said in a casual, off-handed way, “I believe Mr. Cruise and a companion were the last guests.”

  Her eyes widened. “Tom Cruise?”

  “That’s right. Then tomorrow morning,” he continued smoothly, “you’ll be taken to the spa.”

  “Will my niece be staying at the retreat too?”

  “I’m not certain. If the problem has been solved by the time her flight arrives, then she’ll be taken directly to the spa.”

  “Is the retreat near Aspen?”

  “Just outside, high up in the mountains in an area called Land Between the Lakes. It’s quite beautiful there. Cold nights and warm, mostly sunny days this time of year. Great climate for hiking and camping.”

  “I’m not the outdoor type, but you certainly look like you are,” she said, noticing the thickness in his shoulders and the bulging muscles straining the fabric of his obviously custom-made suit. What were they paying chauffeurs these days?

  They must have stood side by side for a good ten minutes before the bags began to roll along the conveyor belt.

  “That one’s mine,” she said, pointing to an overstuffed, black Gucci bag moving along the conveyor. “Be careful,” she warned. “It’s heavy.”

  “Is this the only one?”

  Surely he was joking. “No, there are three more.”

  “How long are you going to be at the spa?” he asked.

  “Two weeks. How long have you worked there?” she asked, making idle chitchat to pass the time while she waited for the rest of the luggage. If they lost any of her bags, she was up a creek because her extra batteries for her laptop and her other cell phone were packed inside.

  “A year,” he answered.

  “That’s nice,” she remarked, not really interested. Where the hell were her other suitcases? She could feel herself getting anxious and took a deep breath. Relax, she told herself. You’re on vacation.

  She glanced around the luggage area, spotted a ladies’ room and said, “Before we leave, I’d like to splash some cold water on my face.”

  “If you could wait until we get to—”

  “Actually, I can’t wait,” she interrupted. She handed him her carry-on but kept her purse. “Don’t let go of that bag. It’s got my laptop and my cell phone inside.”

  Then she hurried into the rest room. As she was washing her hands, she remembered she’d put the other cell phone in her pocket and decided to call Avery right then.

  Carrie went into the last stall so she would have some privacy, prayed the signal wouldn’t get blocked, then hit speed dial. She called Avery’s apartment first, listened to the answering machine, and told her to call her as soon as she got this message. Then, thinking she might have left for the airport, Carrie hit speed dial again. The number was a direct line to Avery’s desk. Her voice mail picked up on the second ring.

  “Damn it, Avery, you were supposed to call me back with your flight information, but you forgot, didn’t you? I hope to heaven you’re on the plane now and will check your messages from Denver. I think I’m obsessing because I don’t want you to bail on me. I know how that job of yours sucks you in. If I find out you’ve missed your plane because you got stuck in one of those horrid meetings, I’ll pitch such a fit your ears will be ringing for a month. Honestly, Avery, when I think about all the things you could be doing and all the money you could be making, and here you are, stuck in that windowless dungeon analyzing God only knows what. It’s a waste of your talents. Surely you realize that. I wish you’d let me help you change careers.”

  Carrie realized what she was doing and laughed. “Listen to me going on and on. You’ve heard it all before, haven’t you? Anyway, I called to tell you I’m in Aspen now. I wanted to wait until you landed so we could ride to the spa together, but there are other guests here, and it would be too much of an inconvenience to make them sit and wait. I won’t be going to the spa tonight. They had some kind of plumbing problem, which my escort tells me should be fixed by the time you get there. I’ll be sound asleep by then. The other two women and I will be spending a luxurious night at a posh mountain retreat. I’ve already forgotten the other women’s names, but one of them is a judge. I’ll bet she’s famous. Then tomorrow,” she continued, “I’ll check in at Utopia and find you.”

  Carrie felt another burst of excitement. “The retreat is called The Land Between the Lakes. How quaint is that? Tom Cruise was their last guest, so you know it has to be incredibly beautiful. I mean, he’s on top of the A list, and they wouldn’t put him in anything shabby. I better hang up now before my escort comes looking for me in the ladies’ room. I can’t wait to see you. We’re going to have such fun. Oops, I hear my escort calling my name. The spa sent a real hunk to carry my luggage. He’s kind of stiff and formal, and he has the faintest British accent. And, oh, is he sexy. His name’s Monk Edwards, but trust me, he doesn’t look like any monk I’ve ever seen. Maybe they’ll send another hunk to pick you up. Bye, brat. See you soon.”

  Chapter 3