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Dougal nodded once and strode off, leaving her with the security specialist who was there to investigate her. Because she would bet everything she owned—which wasn’t very much—that she was suspect number one.
It was the story of her life.
Logan smiled at the woman who clearly wanted him to leave with her boss. “We weren’t introduced. Logan McBride.” He stuck out his hand. “And you’re Agnes Sinclair. I met your sister Isobel when I visited the London office.”
“That’s nice for you, but you should know that I’m nothing like her.”
For a minute, he thought she was going to leave him hanging there with his hand out, but grudgingly, she shook it. A strange tingling sensation ran up his arm, and he had the urge to hold on tight and never let go. Reluctantly, he released her. His hand warm from her touch.
Agnes took a step back, a faint pink blush dusting her cheeks, making him wonder if she’d experienced the same irrational urge to hold on tight. Her chin lifted, and she stared him straight in the eye. “Aren’t you going to ask if I’m the thief?”
“Are you?” he said, because she seemed to expect it.
“No.” Her green eyes blazed as if daring him to say otherwise.
Logan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He’d been with the Strathclyde police force for almost ten years before going to work for Benson Security. In that time, he’d asked people about their guilt so many times he’d lost count, and they’d always clarified their answers. Always. He’d expected her to say something like, ‘No, I’ve never stolen anything in my life.’ Or, ‘No, I’m not a thief.’ To have her reply with just a ‘No’ had his instincts tingling.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Do you want to fill me in on what’s been happening here?”
“Hasn’t Dougal done that already?” Her eyes flicked between him and the door, giving the impression that she was fighting the urge to ask him to leave.
“Aye, but I’d rather hear it from you.” He motioned to the guest chair facing her desk. “Do you mind?”
Her jaw clenched for a second, telling him she definitely did mind. “Please,” she said instead.
Fighting a smile, Logan took a seat. Agnes was a conundrum. She was right when she said she was nothing like her older sister. While Isobel was sweet and soft, and slightly dippy, Agnes was sharp as a tack, prickly, and growing more impatient by the second.
She pulled back her chair and sat on the edge. The lapels of her gray suit jacket fell open to reveal a stiff white shirt underneath. No jewelry. Only a Timex watch with a classic white face and a black leather strap. This woman was all about business. And he was getting in the way of it.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “things have been going missing from around the hotel?”
She slid a piece of paper over the desk toward him. “It ranges from worthless stuff, like soaps and shampoos, to food from the kitchen and jewelry belonging to guests.”
He glanced down the list. “What kind of jewelry?”
“The expensive kind,” she said evenly, making him think it was an effort for her to remain calm. “We’ve had things go missing from guest rooms, storage, and back of house. There’s no pattern to it. I mean, who steals soap and a diamond ring? It makes no sense, but it has to be someone with access to all areas of the hotel.”
He let out a low whistle. “Why haven’t you called in the police?” If people’s valuables were missing, this was definitely a case for the local cop.
“We want to see if we can sort it ourselves.”
“In other words, you’re afraid of the bad publicity.” It wasn’t a question. “So, you think a staff member’s behind the thefts?”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “Yes, Logan, I think it’s the staff.” The ‘you idiot’ at the end of that sentence was definitely implied.
“Which one do you think it is?” he asked, just to see how she’d react.
Her jaw clenched and unclenched before she spoke. “I don’t know. That’s what I was looking into before Dougal called you in to take over. Maybe you could tell me who’s been doing this.”
He nodded with fake solemnity. “I’ll definitely do my best to get that information to you, Ms. Sinclair.”
Her fingers twitched on the desk, and her eyes flicked to a heavy glass paperweight with a tiny Eiffel Tower inside it. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots between the paperweight and his head.
“Have you discovered anything that might help me in my investigation?”
“Yes,” she said before slowly enunciating the words, “Someone’s stealing stuff.”
It took all his self-control not to burst out laughing. “Do you want to show me where this stuff was stolen from?”
