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“What’s his name again?”
“Captain Scott Specter.”
“Get back to me as soon as you have something.”
Ending the conversation before the man could respond, Sonny hastily called Richard Hammond.
“Hello, Sonny,” Richard said, answering on the first ring. “I’m looking forward to the party tonight.”
“Yeah, me too,” Sonny muttered. “I want you to run a check on someone and I want it yesterday. Scott Specter. He owns Victoria Sailing School at Red Hook.”
“Are you looking for anything specific?”
“What’s his story? Get as much as you can as quick as you can.”
“Will do.”
“Hang on a second,” Sonny said, an idea popping into his head. “Call that school and ask to speak to him. When they tell you he’s not there, say you have a client who wants to charter three of their boats for two weeks for some high-profile visitors.”
“Great idea, Sonny, that will get their attention.”
“Yeah, but take it a step further. Tell them your client wishes to remain anonymous for the moment, but he’d like to discuss the details with Mr. Specter in person tonight. Apologize for the last-minute notice, all the usual bullshit, and make sure whoever you’re talking to thinks if Specter doesn’t show up, he’ll lose the deal.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“When Specter gets in touch, tell him you’ll arrange for a limo to pick him up.”
“And if he says he can’t make it?”
“I hope you can persuade him, Richard,” Sonny growled, “but regardless, be sure to get his number and find out where he’s calling from. If I have to snatch him off the street, so be it.”
Ewen was in the bathroom nursing his cut lip and the gash on his cheek when a gentle knock told him Rosemary was at the bedroom door. Dressed only in his boxer shorts, he quickly ran a comb through his messy hair, and pulled on the thin cotton robe she’d given him. He had no illusions about the mature, full-figured housekeeper. She was always kind and helpful, but he didn’t doubt her deep loyalty to Conchello. Taking a breath and putting on his best poker face, he padded into the bedroom.
“Come in.”
“Hello, Ewen,” she said sweetly, walking in and placing a canvas bag on a chair by the window. “Here are some of your things. The suit you wanted was wrinkled and I’m having it pressed. Mr. Conchello is fussy about those things, especially since you’ll be rubbing shoulders with the VIPs in his private quarters. You must look your very best.”
“Thanks, Rosemary. It’ll be nice just to have a change of clothes.”
“I’m sure.”
“Did they find my rib brace?”
“They certainly did, and what a good idea. You’ll need that protection; it’s so easy to get bumped when you’re in a crowd of people. But I’ve never seen one like it before. Where did you get it?”
“Back in Aussie. I broke a couple of ribs playing rugby and the doc insisted I wear it. He was right. It’s bloody marvelous. I’m glad I brought it with me, though I never thought I’d be wearing it at a party meeting the rich and famous.”
“Life is full of surprises. Do you need any help putting it on?”
“No, I had a lot of practice from my last injury, but thanks anyway.”
“The guests will get here between nine and ten, so you need to be in the VIP area by nine. Mr. Conchello likes to have people there when his guests roll in. No one likes to be the first to arrive, so no one is.”
“Right you are,” Ewen replied.
“Your accent will be such a hit,” she remarked with a grin. “The ladies will eat it up, and you too if you’re not careful.”
“You won’t find me complaining. I’m not one to turn away a hungry Sheila.”
