Kiss of death

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WHITNEY HUNG UP and walked down the breeder’s driveway to check on the dogs. She’d left Lexi along with Maddie and Da Vinci in the back of Adam’s Rava. They were far enough inland that the breeze from the ocean didn’t keep the air as cool as it was in the La Jolla area. If Jasper didn’t perform soon she would ask Kris if the dogs could be put in one of the dog runs.

Whitney stuck her head inside the window. “Are you guys okay?”

Lexi responded by licking her chin and Maddie hopped up and down, but Da Vinci merely opened one eye and gazed at her for a second before going back to sleep.

“I’ll hurry,” she promised, then walked back up the driveway toward the office. Her cell phone rang again. Rod Babcock’s secretary was on the line.

“Mr. Babcock is in La Jolla for a deposition. He has a noon reservation at Starz and would like you to join him. He needs to talk to you.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agreed and hung up. She had rushed into Wal-Mart on the way out here. She’d bought a few changes of clothes and some toiletry items, but she didn’t have anything nice enough to wear to a trendy restaurant. What she had on would have to do.

Whitney walked back into the office and found Kris had left. The television showed the breeder in the pen with the two dogs. Apparently Jasper had finally become interested in the teaser bitch while Whitney had been outside.

She watched Jasper attempt to mount the female. She kept bucking off Jasper again and again. He finally managed to corner the female and climb up on her. Jasper was going at it when Kris knelt down, grabbed him, and quickly covered his penis with the collection device. The breeder began milking Jasper and Whitney turned away.

She couldn’t watch. Instead she checked her voicemail. One was a client canceling a walk and the other was Trish Bowrather.

“Call me right away. I’m so worried about you.”

Evidently Trish had seen news of the fire on the morning television broadcasts. There was no mistaking the concern in her voice. Whitney couldn’t help being touched. Other than Adam, she didn’t have anyone who cared about her.

“From the looks of it, you don’t have a place to stay, or clothes…or anything. Why didn’t you come in and tell me about it when you walked Brandy this morning?”

Whitney had been in a hurry when she’d taken Brandy for his walk. Trish must have been in the shower when Whitney came by for the retriever. She’d walked him then left. She’d needed to squeeze in another dog and a trip to Wal-Mart before driving out here to deliver Jasper. Whitney called Trish at the gallery but her voicemail picked up.

“Trish, it’s Whitney. I’m okay. I’ll tell you all about it this afternoon. I’m meeting Broderick Babcock for lunch at Starz. Afterward, I’ll drop by the gallery.”

By the time Whitney retrieved a very dejected Jasper and drove south, she barely had time to park the car in an underground garage, so the dogs wouldn’t get too hot, and still make it to the restaurant in time. She rushed up to Starz, her hair flying behind her like a banner. Broderick Babcock was waiting at a table in the rear.

The lawyer rose and extended his hand. He’s dressed for a GQ photo shoot, Whitney thought, and I’m a walking advertisement for the homeless.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his brows knit. “I heard about the pipe bombing and fire on the radio while I was driving here.”

“I’m fine.” She lowered herself into the chair opposite his.

The waitress bounced over and took her order for iced tea. Rod must have arrived early. He already had a glass of white wine and had buttered a roll from the basket on the table.

“I wasn’t home when it happened,” explained Whitney. She thought she sounded a little breathless and told herself to calm down. Rod was adept at reading people. She didn’t want him to know how frightened she was. He was doing her a favor by reviewing the document. She didn’t need to drag him into her personal affairs. “Apparently someone has a grudge against Miranda. She lived in the cottage until a few days ago. I guess they didn’t know she’d moved out.”

Rod studied her a moment. “Did you find out where she is?”

Whitney shook her head and let the waitress deposit a tall glass of iced tea with a wedge of lemon in front of her before continuing. “We found her car at the airport. She must have taken a flight somewhere.”

The attorney nodded thoughtfully. Whitney didn’t tell him that Miranda’s ID hadn’t shown up on security checks. She didn’t want him asking how she’d obtained the information.

“You needed to see me?” she asked.

“Yes. I want to clear up a few details. Let’s order first. I’m starving. I had to be out here early for a deposition and missed breakfast.”

Whitney picked up the menu beside her napkin and quickly selected an ahi tuna salad. She wondered why the attorney couldn’t have cleared up a few details over the phone. Rod signaled and the waitress came over. They both ordered salads.

“I had my investigator go over the titles to both properties. Did you realize your former husband has taken out a second mortgage as well as a home equity line of credit?”

“No, I didn’t,” she replied slowly. “But I’m not surprised. We were tight for money when we split. He’s starting a new practice. That requires a big financial commitment.”

The lawyer didn’t respond. He looked at her with an expression that said he expected her to continue.

“I’m not responsible for these loans, am I? We are divorced, right?”

He gave her an encouraging smile. “We double-checked the court records. You are divorced. It’s not uncommon for couples to divorce then settle property matters later.”

“Will I be responsible for loans he took out after-”

“What counts is the day the divorce papers were filed. Subsequent loans are his problem.”

Whitney smiled to herself. Ryan had never been good at managing money. Let him sweat this one out with his Miss America wannabe.

“Did you realize your ex had a gambling problem?”

She bit back a startled gasp. “No,” she managed to say after a moment. “I had no idea. Are you sure?”

“My sources-always reliable-tell me he’s into the casinos for half a mil.”

“Half a million dollars.” The second the words were out she knew she’d raised her voice. She added in a lower tone, “I don’t believe it.”

“I’ve represented the tribes on several matters. They’re as computerized and businesslike as Vegas. If they say Ryan Fordham owes half a mil, he owes the money.”

“I see,” Whitney said, the light slowly dawning. How many times had Ryan gone out in the evening? He’d claimed to be checking on patients. Now she knew the truth. When he hadn’t been cheating on her, the skank had been gambling.

“I guess I’m not responsible for his gambling debts, if they were incurred after we filed. Right?”

“Correct, but it explains why he’s so anxious to settle the property dispute. I doubt if he can scare up another cent.”

Whitney couldn’t feel sorry for her ex. She’d walked away from the marriage without much more than her maiden name. She’d lost her job, but Ryan hadn’t cared how she survived. She’d taken a house-sitting job, then she’d been forced to turn to Miranda.

“You said the property near Temecula has Environmental Protection Agency restrictions on it.”

“Yes. Ryan insisted we buy the land because development is moving in that direction and it would be valuable one day. When we were finalizing our divorce, he discovered the property had been a landfill. It can’t be sold without an expensive cleanup and decontamination.”

“Our preliminary check didn’t reveal any EPA restrictions, but I’m told that isn’t too unusual. A lot of those reports are given to county agencies that don’t have the manpower to disseminate the information to all appropriate agencies. Often the EPA reports don’t turn up until a transaction is in escrow.”

“Ryan went to a Realtor and found out about the problems.”

“Realtors often know-”

“Whitney,” Trish Bowrather called from a few feet away.

“This is my friend,” Whitney managed to tell Rod, even though she was surprised to see Trish. “I left a message that I would be here. She has an art gallery nearby.”

Trish stopped beside Whitney. Today the gallery owner was dressed in coffee-colored linen with gleaming black onyx accessories. “I heard about the fire and I was so upset.”

“I’m okay. I was out with the dogs. They were safe. That’s all that matters.”

“That’s why I trust my Brandy to her,” Trish told Rod as she turned and offered him her hand. “I’m Trish Bowrather.”

“Rod Babcock,” the attorney replied, rising. “Join us. We’ve just ordered.”

Trish shook her head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to see for myself that Whitney was okay.”

Whitney had the impression that the lawyer was intrigued by Trish. “You’re not interrupting. I think we’re finished with business.”

“Yes.” Rod pulled out a chair for Trish while telling Whitney, “I’ll need to check a few more things before I’ll allow you to sign the papers.”

Whitney hid her disappointment. She wanted to put the past where it belonged-behind her.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Trish asked as soon as she was seated.

“In the maid’s quarters at the main house.” Whitney knew she didn’t blush, but she hoped her face didn’t give away how she felt about Adam.

“Sounds small,” Trish said. “I have a client who’s going to be in the south of France for at least six months. He’s looking for someone to take care of his place.”

“Thanks,” Whitney replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Adam cared about her, and Whitney liked knowing he was close by. She didn’t want to move, but it might be for the best.

Rod waved over their server and Trish quickly ordered a salad. “I hope you’re still coming to my opening Friday night.”

Whitney nodded without enthusiasm. She’d forgotten all about the showing of the Russian’s works.

Trish turned to Rod. “I own the Ravissant Gallery on Prospect Street. I’m showing Vladimir’s works Friday night. He’s the hottest artist on the local scene. Why don’t you come?”

“Well, I…” Rod hesitated. Whitney had the distinct impression he was charmed by Trish but wanted to be persuaded.

“It’ll be a lot of fun. Liquid Cowboy is catering the food.” Trish produced an invitation from the elegant black bag she’d deposited beside her chair.

“How can I refuse?” Rod asked with a smile.

He was too sharp an attorney not to be able to slither out of this if he’d wanted, Whitney decided. She wondered if Trish had really dropped by to check on her or if she’d come because she knew it was an opportunity to meet a wealthy prospective client.