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Did Michael’s father and Sam’s mother know about the two men’s fetis
h? Were there rumors about the estate or even the revelation following the FBI statements given? Did they suspect what Scarlet’s relationship was with their sons?
Heat crept up her neck and spread over her cheeks. This was definitely an awkward situation. But she still had a job to do. Still had all those thoughts and questions spinning in her head. She hoped to quell her internal speculation and wipe the slate clean where this family was concerned.
Michael graciously made the introductions.
Karina Vandenberg, a delicate-looking blonde dressed in classic Chanel, said, “It’s so very nice to meet you, Miss Drake. How have you enjoyed your trip to the Hamptons so far?”
“This is a beautiful property, Mrs. Vandenberg. And your staff is above reproach.”
“We’re quite fortunate.”
Scarlet couldn’t help but wonder if that comment ran deeper—beyond staff competency to eternal loyalty?
It was possible.
Anyone within these walls could be protecting the family. She needed to be on her toes. Not get stuck in first gear over what had gone on the previous evening in the guesthouse.
Though that was extremely difficult. Because the memories of what Michael and Sam had done to her were next to impossible to relegate to the back of her mind.
Actually, she was good at relegating. The memories just refused to stay there.
So she took the chair that Michael held out for her, across from Mitcham. Who coolly said, “Miss Drake.”
“I appreciate this opportunity to speak with you,” she told him. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person.”
“I’m sure you’ll be disappointed to know I haven’t anything more to share with you than when you phoned my office,” Mitcham said.
“I’m just crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s,” Scarlet replied. “I assure you it pleases me that everything appears to be on the up-and-up here.”
“Appears to be?” Mitcham snorted. “Did you find anything amiss?”
Scarlet smiled. She’d been down this road a million times before with people she’d needed to run theories by and she’d met with similar obstinacy and defensiveness. Nothing new here.
She said, “I’m satisfied with the physical inspection. My only qualm, really, is in how the paintings were actually removed from the premises.”
“Perhaps we should have brunch before we get down to business,” Karina suggested. She gestured to the buffet stations set about the room.
Michael got to his feet and pulled back Scarlet’s chair. Beside her, Sam stood. Mitcham assisted his wife.
When they all returned to the table with full plates, Mitcham surprised Scarlet by asking, “What do you think happened to the collection, Miss Drake?”
“Well…” She took a drink of cappuccino and then said, “I thought the FBI’s theory of the event workers being involved was feasible. But every single employee who’d come onto the property and worked the party was interviewed and there wasn’t anything presented as a viable lead. A few arrests were made based on illegal immigration and also two counts of possession of marijuana; however, no solid clues to the crime committed were discerned.”
“Then why are you involved?” Mitcham challenged her. His gaze was darker than Michael’s. Not a grayish-blue but a much-too-close-to-black for comfort. Mitcham was a tall, muscular man with wide shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair. He was foreboding and it was a bit intense questioning the man on his territory. But Scarlet had dealt with his kind before.
She told him, “I’m just performing due diligence for the insurance company that paid the claim.”
The senior Vandenberg said, “And your personal theory is?”
“It falls along the lines of the FBI’s,” she said. “I think the culprits came in through the service entrance with the other trucks that supplied the tents and equipment for the party. Possibly in an unmarked vehicle so that no one could identify or provide a name of the company after the fact. The truck and the supposed ‘employees’ would be extremely nondescript from the corporate aspect as well as their own appearance. White coveralls, generic Dockers, and polos with ball caps pulled low on the brow. That sort of thing. Point being, anyone who happened to see them coming or going would not consider them of interest nor could they pinpoint anything about them later on.”
“So they just breezed in as though they were working the party and then breezed out with over a half-dozen paintings?” Mitcham rumbled. “We’ve heard that concept before.”
Scarlet calmly said, “Yes, as it pertains to the identified event companies. I’m talking about one that had absolutely nothing to do with the setup and teardown of the party. These guys weren’t hired, contracted, expected on-property, or able to be tracked down. They were wraiths. Didn’t exist. Someone could have seen a blank white service truck parked amongst all the other legitimate trucks and vans, but they wouldn’t have been able to provide any further information.”
“Even my perimeter security didn’t find anything conclusive,” Mitcham seemed to reluctantly admit. “I have since extended my surveillance inside the mansion. I’d never believed I’d had to do that. I thought I could trust those within these walls who tend to the estate.”
