Read Online Blood Ties in Chef Voleur by Mallory Kane - Free Book Online
Authors: Mallory Kane
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But now he decided he’d better stick with hot and steamy so it would dissolve his anger at Cara Lynn. He was guilty of enough already. He didn’t need her suspicious of him for things he hadn’t even done.
He showered quickly, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and felt a hundred percent better. In the living room, he opened the blinds and checked the parking lot to be sure Cara Lynn’s car was gone. Then he headed for the kitchen, thinking about her certainty that one of her grandmother’s journals had been moved, and a little worried that if someone were coming into the apartment, they might have tried to open his briefcase.
With a sudden sense of apprehension, Jack checked its latch. It was locked. He breathed a sigh of relief. He realized with a sinking feeling that after staying up all night, he couldn’t have sworn in a court of law that he’d locked it.
He glanced around the kitchen as he thought about the night before. When he’d come in, Cara Lynn had been hurrying out of the pantry with an armful of water bottles that weren’t needed in the refrigerator. The fact that a bottle was missing seemed to surprise her as much as it surprised him. So why had she brought three more from the pantry? She’d looked a little frazzled and a little guilty, as if he’d interrupted something.
He stopped and closed his eyes, trying to remember just exactly what had happened right before the lights went out. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been looking in her direction when the room went dark. He’d been talking to Paul Guillame. So no, he hadn’t seen a thing.
However, Paul had been looking that way. Then when the lights came back on and the journal and the tiara were missing, Jack had immediately jumped up onto the chair to see if he could spot the thief running away. It had only been when he’d heard Cara Lynn calling for him that he’d turned to her.
Damn it. If he’d been more careful about staying in his role as loving husband, he might have seen her hide the letter.
He understood that he was basing the existence of a letter on a tiny scrap of brittle paper and he knew that could be sheer folly. For all he knew, the scrap might have nothing to do with the journal. Cara Lynn could have been paging through ancient recipe books and come across one written on the back of an envelope. She loved reading her grandmother and mother’s handwritten recipes. Or it could easily be an old document she’d acquired for her genealogy. Actually, that was the most likely source, but for some reason, Jack couldn’t let go of the idea that the scrap had come from the same box that had held the journal and tiara.
It seemed natural that Cara Lynn’s grandmother would have written her a note about the items she was leaving her. Even if it was nothing more than Best wishes. I love you .
But if that’s what it was, then why hide it? What could be so secretive about a letter from a grandmother to her youngest granddaughter? Was Cara Lynn just a naturally suspicious person? The kind of person who would hide anything until she’d had a chance to read it? No. Cara was definitely not that kind of person. He’d known her intimately for two months. Granted that wasn’t long, but his impression was that she was as honest and open as the day was long. She seemed to him like the last person on the planet who would just decide to hide something on a whim. He didn’t think she’d had time to glance at it, not without a lot of people noticing and asking about it.
Maybe where her family was concerned, she was secretive. If he were in a family filled with cops and lawyers and special forces operatives, he’d be damned careful about what he did and did not share with them.
His first thought was that the letter had something to do with Con Delancey’s murder. But that was his obsession. Even if the letter was from Lilibelle Guillame and stated outright that Armand Broussard was not the murderer, there would be no reason for Cara Lynn to
He showered quickly, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and felt a hundred percent better. In the living room, he opened the blinds and checked the parking lot to be sure Cara Lynn’s car was gone. Then he headed for the kitchen, thinking about her certainty that one of her grandmother’s journals had been moved, and a little worried that if someone were coming into the apartment, they might have tried to open his briefcase.
With a sudden sense of apprehension, Jack checked its latch. It was locked. He breathed a sigh of relief. He realized with a sinking feeling that after staying up all night, he couldn’t have sworn in a court of law that he’d locked it.
He glanced around the kitchen as he thought about the night before. When he’d come in, Cara Lynn had been hurrying out of the pantry with an armful of water bottles that weren’t needed in the refrigerator. The fact that a bottle was missing seemed to surprise her as much as it surprised him. So why had she brought three more from the pantry? She’d looked a little frazzled and a little guilty, as if he’d interrupted something.
He stopped and closed his eyes, trying to remember just exactly what had happened right before the lights went out. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been looking in her direction when the room went dark. He’d been talking to Paul Guillame. So no, he hadn’t seen a thing.
However, Paul had been looking that way. Then when the lights came back on and the journal and the tiara were missing, Jack had immediately jumped up onto the chair to see if he could spot the thief running away. It had only been when he’d heard Cara Lynn calling for him that he’d turned to her.
Damn it. If he’d been more careful about staying in his role as loving husband, he might have seen her hide the letter.
He understood that he was basing the existence of a letter on a tiny scrap of brittle paper and he knew that could be sheer folly. For all he knew, the scrap might have nothing to do with the journal. Cara Lynn could have been paging through ancient recipe books and come across one written on the back of an envelope. She loved reading her grandmother and mother’s handwritten recipes. Or it could easily be an old document she’d acquired for her genealogy. Actually, that was the most likely source, but for some reason, Jack couldn’t let go of the idea that the scrap had come from the same box that had held the journal and tiara.
It seemed natural that Cara Lynn’s grandmother would have written her a note about the items she was leaving her. Even if it was nothing more than Best wishes. I love you .
But if that’s what it was, then why hide it? What could be so secretive about a letter from a grandmother to her youngest granddaughter? Was Cara Lynn just a naturally suspicious person? The kind of person who would hide anything until she’d had a chance to read it? No. Cara was definitely not that kind of person. He’d known her intimately for two months. Granted that wasn’t long, but his impression was that she was as honest and open as the day was long. She seemed to him like the last person on the planet who would just decide to hide something on a whim. He didn’t think she’d had time to glance at it, not without a lot of people noticing and asking about it.
Maybe where her family was concerned, she was secretive. If he were in a family filled with cops and lawyers and special forces operatives, he’d be damned careful about what he did and did not share with them.
His first thought was that the letter had something to do with Con Delancey’s murder. But that was his obsession. Even if the letter was from Lilibelle Guillame and stated outright that Armand Broussard was not the murderer, there would be no reason for Cara Lynn to
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