Read Online Blood Ties in Chef Voleur by Mallory Kane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mallory Kane
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written in a beautiful, old-fashioned script. He turned the envelope over. The flap was held in place with two inches of brown, dried-out cellophane tape across the center. The right edge of the flap had been torn off. That was the piece he’d found. This was definitely the same envelope.
But then he saw that there was a newer piece of tape that ran across part of the older tape. Someone had opened the envelope and closed it back. The tape wasn’t brand new—so it hadn’t happened recently.
He tried to lift the edge of the new tape with a fingernail, but it pulled a crumbling piece of the envelope’s flap with it.
“Damn it,” he muttered, as he carefully pressed the tape down again. He couldn’t get into it without destroying it and the tape that held it so precariously. He looked at the front again. The decorative handwriting had been penned with a fountain pen. There was a tiny bit of ink spatter underneath the C in Cara Lynn . Also, the pen had left thick lines in some places and needle-thin lines in others.
That settled it. He couldn’t open the envelope without destroying it and he’d never be able to replace it. Sighing, he sank to his haunches again and started to replace the board. But his curiosity got the better of him. He reached into the hole again.
The first thing his fingers touched was a roll of bills. He pulled them out and tried to estimate how much money was there. Maybe a couple of thousand, he thought. He reached in a third time and pulled out her passport. He flipped through it, stopping at the front to check the expiration date. The passport was good for ten more months.
He stared at the date, thinking that their marriage would certainly expire before the passport would. How would she take it, he wondered, then immediately cleared his throat loudly and forced his brain to cut off that line of thought.
The third thing he found in the hole concealed by the baseboard was a velvet jewelry case—a necklace case, by the shape of it. He opened it and immediately realized he was looking at probably twenty, thirty, even forty thousand dollars’ worth of real, mined emeralds. The necklace was exquisite, with small diamonds on either side of each larger emerald, and a two-inch long teardrop emerald pendant hanging from the center of the piece. He closed the case and stuck it back.
He’d known when he started this venture that he and his family were paupers compared to the Delanceys, but looking at those ridiculously huge gemstones slammed his face into just how different they were. As he carefully replaced everything including the envelope, then put the baseboard back and rearranged the water bottles, he thought it was a good thing that he wasn’t serious about Cara Lynn.
Because as soon as their honeymoon was over, the feelings of her family would begin to weigh on her mind, and eventually, they’d convince her that she’d made a big mistake. That she’d married way beneath her.
As for him, he had sense enough to know he was so far out of her league he wasn’t even in her zip code. Yep, it was a good thing he was only in this for revenge and not for love.
He glanced at his watch. He was going to have to wait to go over his granddad’s letter. He had to get to the sheriff’s office. As he stood and started to lock the case, his cell phone rang. He looked at the display.
It was Greg Haymore, the private investigator he’d hired for an outrageous sum that he hoped would be totally worth it. Haymore was a good investigator, but his real value was in his connections.
Haymore was a former police officer who’d been fired for suborning perjury in a court case involving the shooting death of his partner. He’d lied about whether his partner had a throwaway gun, afraid that if the jury knew that the officer was carrying a secret weapon, they’d assume the officer was crooked and let the killer off. Haymore’s good intentions got the killer acquitted and himself fired.
“Hey, Jack,
But then he saw that there was a newer piece of tape that ran across part of the older tape. Someone had opened the envelope and closed it back. The tape wasn’t brand new—so it hadn’t happened recently.
He tried to lift the edge of the new tape with a fingernail, but it pulled a crumbling piece of the envelope’s flap with it.
“Damn it,” he muttered, as he carefully pressed the tape down again. He couldn’t get into it without destroying it and the tape that held it so precariously. He looked at the front again. The decorative handwriting had been penned with a fountain pen. There was a tiny bit of ink spatter underneath the C in Cara Lynn . Also, the pen had left thick lines in some places and needle-thin lines in others.
That settled it. He couldn’t open the envelope without destroying it and he’d never be able to replace it. Sighing, he sank to his haunches again and started to replace the board. But his curiosity got the better of him. He reached into the hole again.
The first thing his fingers touched was a roll of bills. He pulled them out and tried to estimate how much money was there. Maybe a couple of thousand, he thought. He reached in a third time and pulled out her passport. He flipped through it, stopping at the front to check the expiration date. The passport was good for ten more months.
He stared at the date, thinking that their marriage would certainly expire before the passport would. How would she take it, he wondered, then immediately cleared his throat loudly and forced his brain to cut off that line of thought.
The third thing he found in the hole concealed by the baseboard was a velvet jewelry case—a necklace case, by the shape of it. He opened it and immediately realized he was looking at probably twenty, thirty, even forty thousand dollars’ worth of real, mined emeralds. The necklace was exquisite, with small diamonds on either side of each larger emerald, and a two-inch long teardrop emerald pendant hanging from the center of the piece. He closed the case and stuck it back.
He’d known when he started this venture that he and his family were paupers compared to the Delanceys, but looking at those ridiculously huge gemstones slammed his face into just how different they were. As he carefully replaced everything including the envelope, then put the baseboard back and rearranged the water bottles, he thought it was a good thing that he wasn’t serious about Cara Lynn.
Because as soon as their honeymoon was over, the feelings of her family would begin to weigh on her mind, and eventually, they’d convince her that she’d made a big mistake. That she’d married way beneath her.
As for him, he had sense enough to know he was so far out of her league he wasn’t even in her zip code. Yep, it was a good thing he was only in this for revenge and not for love.
He glanced at his watch. He was going to have to wait to go over his granddad’s letter. He had to get to the sheriff’s office. As he stood and started to lock the case, his cell phone rang. He looked at the display.
It was Greg Haymore, the private investigator he’d hired for an outrageous sum that he hoped would be totally worth it. Haymore was a good investigator, but his real value was in his connections.
Haymore was a former police officer who’d been fired for suborning perjury in a court case involving the shooting death of his partner. He’d lied about whether his partner had a throwaway gun, afraid that if the jury knew that the officer was carrying a secret weapon, they’d assume the officer was crooked and let the killer off. Haymore’s good intentions got the killer acquitted and himself fired.
“Hey, Jack,
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