Sweetwater by Sandra Chastain

Author:Sandra Chastain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2013-09-04T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

IT WAS BARELY eight a.m. when Ian shook Daniel rudely awake.

“Get up, man. He’s done it.”

“Who’s done what?” Daniel pushed himself up against the down pillow and stared sleepily at his associate. Ian was still dressed in his evening clothes, or partially dressed. His shirt was half buttoned. His tie was hanging around his neck and he was holding his frockcoat by its collar. “Did somebody rob you?”

“Not me, Daniel; Lady Delecort. The jewel thief broke into her room last night while she was asleep and took the diamond necklace she wore at dinner.”

“Blast! I was afraid of something like this. Do you know any details?”

“No. I only just heard about it when I was—was coming down the corridor—earlier. The hotel detective is in the room next door, making inquiries. You’d better dress. I expect him here next.”

Daniel came to his feet and reached for a pair of trousers. He plunged his feet into the pants and threaded his arms into the dressing gown that Ian was holding for him. His mind was furiously cataloging what he’d been told. Sometime after Lady Delecort had retired a thief had entered her room and taken her diamonds.

Perhaps the theft had occurred while he was with Portia. With the hotel under surveillance by his men the theft had still occurred. Who was the elusive thief? Portia! Could he have been wrong about Portia? Why had she been running away from the hotel, wearing a dress? Perhaps he’d intercepted her escape. No! He refused to believe that. She certainly hadn’t had the necklace on her. After the intimacy of their embrace he could reasonably swear to that. But how about Horatio? Portia could have been serving as some kind of look-out. Maybe she’d been a decoy, luring him away from the hotel intentionally.

Daniel’s heart sank. How could he have let the very thing happen that he’d been sent there to prevent. Damn! Blast!

There was a knock. “Hotel Security, please open up.” Ian dropped his hands resolutely and opened the door. “Yes?”

“Are you Mr. Daniel Logan?” The florid faced man standing in the doorway flexed his arm, calling attention to the awkward bend of the elbow that signaled a break that had not healed properly. “We’ve had a little problem here in the hotel and I’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Certainly.” Daniel stepped forward. “I’m Daniel Logan. This is my associate, Ian Gaunt. And you are?”

“Hill Jackson, hotel detective. Mr., Blake, the proprietor, has authorized me to make inquiries.” The man didn’t offer to shake hands and neither did Daniel. There was an air of animosity about him that seemed uncalled for.

“What seems to be the trouble, Jackson?” Daniel stretched and rubbed his sleep-filled eyes as the detective walked in and looked disdainfully around.

“The Countess of Hidemarch was robbed last night.”

“Sorry to hear that. And how may we be of assistance to you? God, I could use some coffee.”

Ian closed the hotel room door. “I’ve already called down for coffee, Daniel.”

“I wondered if you happened to see anything—unusual?” For a moment Daniel thought of Portia, then cleared his mind.

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