The workload had only gotten worse since her mothers death. As the sole owner, Cindy found it nearly impossible to take a long weekend, much less ramble around the country.
Now that she had Adam, she thought as she transferred a selection of meringue pies from cooling racks in the kitchen to the glass-fronted bakery case out front, the café was even more confining. She brought the baby to work with her, as Tonya did, where all the waitresses and even the busboys took turns spoiling him. But Cindy herself was so busy, she didnt feel as if she spent enough time with him.
That would all change in a couple of months, she thought with a warm glow. She would travel from one adventure to another, the way shed always dreamed. And once she and Dex were married, she was going to travel with himshe and Adam. Shed seen a lot of her own country before Jims death. Now, the world would be her oyster.
Cindy? It was Tonya, a water pitcher in one hand, menus in the other. Those two ladies in booth three want to speak to you.
Cindy glanced over to the booth by the window. In it sat two women, both blond, both obviously not from Cottonwood. One was dressed in a business suit, her artfully highlighted hair twisted into a complicated configuration atop her head. The other had really funky, spiky, frosted hair and an abundance of silver jewelry.
Could be a real-estate agent and her client, she thought optimistically. Cindy smoothed her apron, wiped her hands on a towel and, with a parting glance at Luke that told him to stop messing with her, she approached the women.
Hello, she said brightly. Im Cindy Lefler, owner of the Miracle Café. She stretched her hand out in greeting to the one in the business suit.
The other woman squeezed her hand briefly. She didnt smile. Sonya Patterson. And this is Brenna Thompson. Please, could you sit down? She indicated the red vinyl banquette across from her.
Cindy sat next to the one called Brenna, feeling apprehensive. What can I do for you?
Sonya set a leather briefcase on the table and snapped open the locks. She withdrew a color photo and slid it across the table toward Cindy. Do you know this man?
The photo was a bit blurry, as if it had been blown up. Clearly the man in the picture had had his arm around someone else, whod been cropped out.
Of course. Thats my fiancé, Dexter Shalimar, Cindy said tightly.
Sonyas eyes seemed to grow brighter and Brenna sat forward slightly. The real-estate tycoon? Brenna asked. That Dexter Shalimar?
Yes. Is it so unbelievable that he would want to marry a waitress?
Neither woman answered Cindys question. Instead Sonya asked, Do you know where he is? Right this moment, I mean?
Not that its any of your business, but hes in Malaysia on a business trip. Look, what is this about? Cindy had an unpleasant crawly sensation at the back of her neck.
Sonya sank back in her seat. Oh, I hope Im not too late.
Too late for what?
I dont know how to tell you this except to just blurt it out. The man in that photo is not Dexter Shalimar. His name is Marvin Carter and hes a con man.
Cindys face grew hot. I dont know who you think you are or what youre trying to pull, but Dexter Shalimar is no con man. Would a con man give a woman a ring like this? She always tucked her three-carat engagement ring into her pocket while she was working. She pulled it out now and flashed the enormous pear-shaped diamond under Sonyas nose.
Sonya gave the ring a perfunctory glance. Hmm. It looks a lot like mine. She reached into her purse and pulled out a ring that was identical to Cindys.
And mine. Brenna opened her leather backpack and also produced a similar ring.
I assume you havent had it appraised, Sonya said. Its a cubic zirconia. Worth about twenty-eight bucks. I think he buys them by the gross.
I dont believe you, Cindy said flatly. He is Dex Shalimar. He drives a Porsche 911. Hes just bought us a million-dollar penthouse. Ive been there.
Oh, the penthouse on Riva Row? asked Sonya. That would be my penthouse. Or it used to be mine, until he sold it out from under me, pocketed the cash and skipped town.
Cindys head was beginning to buzz. This couldnt be trueit just couldnt be. I want you to leave, Cindy said frostily.
Of course. Sonya flashed her a sympathetic smile. I know how hard this is, believe me. But check your bank accounts. If theres still any money in them, count yourself lucky. And change your account numbers.
Sonya slid out of the booth. Brenna scrambled after her. They both looked at Cindy sadly, as if she were a puppy they were leaving behind at the dog pound. Then they left the café, Sonyas heels tapping on the linoleum floor.
Cindy just sat there. Should she try to get in touch with Dex, tell him two mad women were running around maligning him? Hed said he would be out of touch. But surely his company would know how to contact him.
Then an awful, alien thought stirred in her brain. She should call the bank. Just to be sure.
Someone scooted into the booth across from her. She looked up to see Luke Rheems, his handsome face etched with concern. Cindy? You okay? Who were those women?
Yes, Im fine. Of course Im fine. Why wouldnt I be fine? And those women are nutcases. You should keep an eye on them, Luke. Theyre up to no good. Then she stood up and made a hasty escape before her panic took control of her and she started screaming.
Keeping her gaze straight ahead, not acknowledging any customers or employees looks of concern, she headed for her office and slipped inside. Both Adam and Micton were napping, thank heavens. Micton was still tiny and slept most of the time, anyway. Adam, however, had just turned fourteen months, and he was getting more active by the minute. Soon he would be too much to handle at work, and she would have to find a full-time babysitter.
She paused a moment to watch her son sleeping, his thumb in his mouth, his favorite blanky clutched in his other hand. He was the light of her life. Shed never expected to enjoy motherhood. But shed taken to it like a hog to mud, proving that she did in fact have at least one domestic bone in her body, contrary to what her parents had always said.
Enough distraction. She had to call the bank. And then, when she heard everything was as it should be, she could laugh off her momentary worries.
Cindy found the number in her Rolodex, then dialed. She asked for her personal banker, Mary Dietz.
Oh, hi, Cindy. Its nice to hear from you. How can I help you?
Cindy made her request to check the balance in her checking account. It was exactly where it should be, seven hundred and change. She breathed a little easier.
And my money-market fund?
There was a long silence. That account is closed.
No, youre thinking of my mothers account. I closed that out last year when her estate was settled. Im talking about my personal savings account. Heres the number. She rattled off the long account number.
Another long silence. Cindy, Mr. Shalimar closed that account last week. I handled it personally. He said you were investing the funds into real estate.
That buzz was starting up in Cindys head again. Are you sure? But she knew that was a stupid question. Mary didnt make mistakes.
No, youre thinking of my mothers account. I closed that out last year when her estate was settled. Im talking about my personal savings account. Heres the number. She rattled off the long account number.
Another long silence. Cindy, Mr. Shalimar closed that account last week. I handled it personally. He said you were investing the funds into real estate.
That buzz was starting up in Cindys head again. Are you sure? But she knew that was a stupid question. Mary didnt make mistakes.
Oh, my gosh, of course, Cindy said, masking her panic as best she could. I forgot he was going to do that. Okay, never mind. Sorry I bothered you. She hung up.
Could it possibly be true, what those women had told her? That Dex wasnt Dex at all, but someone named Marvin whod given her a fake ring, shown her a penthouse that wasnt even his and made off with close to three-quarters of a million dollarsJims entire life-insurance benefit, her parents life savings and both her and Jims savings?
She picked up the phone again, frantically dialing Dexs cell number. She got a recording that the number wasnt valid. She dialed again, thinking she must have misdialed in her haste. But she got the same result.
On a mission now, she pulled the Houston phone book from her bottom desk drawer and looked up the number for Shalimar Holdings. Dex had always told her not to bother calling him at the office, where she would have to wade through layers of receptionists and secretaries to get to him. His cell was always on, always with him and a much easier way to reach him.
She dialed the business number, reached a secretary. This is an emergency. I really, really need to get word to Dexter Shalimar. Does he have an assistant or someone I could talk to?
May I ask whos calling?
This is Cindy Lefler, his fiancée. I know hes in Malaysia, but surely you people have a way of getting through to him in an emergency?
Long silence. Mr. Shalimar is not in Malaysia. Nor does he have a fiancée named Cindy or anything else. Shall I transfer your call to security?
Cindy couldnt speak. She simply hung up the phone.
She had to get out of here, go home, pull herself together. She couldnt let her customers or employees see her falling apart. She couldnt let anyone know what was happening until shed figured it out for herself.
She packed up Adams diaper bag and her purse and car keys, then gently picked up Adam from his playpen. He stirred slightly, then opened his eyes and blinked blearily at her.
She cuddled him against her shoulder. Thank goodness he wasnt a cranky baby. He was very adaptable, willing to sleep anywhere, eat anything, play with whatever was on hand, allow anyone to hold him. He would be a fabulous traveling companion, shed told herself many times.
She ducked into the kitchen long enough to tell her cook, Manson Grable, that she was going home because she didnt feel well.
Is there anything I can do? Manson asked. He was sixty, portly, round faced and had worked for the Miracle Café his whole adult life. Can I send you home with some chicken soup?
Ill be finejust a headache. She forced a smile and had almost made it out the back door when a booming voice from the dining room snagged her attention.
Im looking for Cindy Lefler!
She considered escaping, then decided it might be important. With a heavy heart, she walked back through the kitchen and out the swinging doors into the dining room.
Standing in the middle of the dining room, looking something like King Henry VIII in madras shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops, was the man whod spoken.
Hi, Im Cindy Lefler, Cindy said, lacking her usual smiling hospitality. Can I help you?
Im Ed LaRue.
She looked at him blankly. The name meant nothing to her.
Im the new owner of the Miracle Café, he continued, still grinning. Soon to be Eds Enchilada Emporium!
Chapter Two
Deputy Luke Rheems looked at first one, then the other of the two women seated in his office. They were both attractive, but beyond their blond hair, they were complete opposites. Sonya Patterson was the epitome of wealth and sophistication. Tall and slim with an elegant, aristocratic face, she wore an ivory linen suit, sheer stockings that looked like silk and cream-colored leather pumps with a medium heel. Her nails were long, probably acrylic, and salon fresh with a coating of pale pink-frosted polish. Her artfully highlighted hair was piled atop her head in a complicated twist, not a strand out of place.
Brenna Thompson was petite, with a pleasantly curvaceous figure, and she looked as if she belonged in an artists loft in SoHo. Her platinum-frosted hair was short and spiky, sticking out of her head like a porcupines quills, and her eye shadow was a particularly virulent shade of purple. Her left ear was graced with five piercings, each with a distinctly unique silver earring.
The rest of her jewelry was just as interesting, and she wore a lot of itrings on almost every finger, bracelets jangling with every movement of her arms, a handful of chains around her neck from which dangled charms in whimsical animal shapes, their eyes winking with colored stones. Her snug, tie-dyed T-shirt didnt quite meet up with her faded hip-hugger jeans, leaving a couple of inches of strategically exposed flesh at her midriff. Though she was categorically not his type, she exuded healthy sex appeal.
Were starting to get worried about her, Sonya was saying. After we broke the news to her that her supposed fiancée was
Lying, thieving pond scum, Brenna supplied.
Yes, exactly. After that, she got the news that her restaurant had been sold out from under her.
It must have been too much, Brenna said. Shes gone into hiding.
We understand she hasnt come out of her house in days, Sonya continued. Now, we hardly know Cindy, but we know what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from underneath you. We figured she needed some time to grieve and weve left her alone. But, Deputy Rheems, its been almost a week and she hasnt come out of her house. She wont answer the phone or the doorbell. Were worried about her.
Luke had been worried about Cindy, too. Hed left the Miracle Café just minutes before Ed LaRues dramatic arrival, so he hadnt witnessed it. But hed heard through the grapevine about itand that it was all true. Dexter Shalimar, aka Marvin Carter, had sold the Miracle Café, and the sale was more or less legal because Cindy had signed some power-of-attorney paper giving her fiancé the right to conduct all sorts of business for her.
Every suspicion hed harbored about Cindys boyfriend had been right on the money. The man was a liar, a thief, a con man, a snake. The only thing Luke had missed was that Shalimar wasnt Shalimar at all. Hed borrowed the reclusive real-estate tycoons identity. Luke should have suspected that. But when his initial inquiries into Shalimars background had checked out, hed had no legitimate reason to snoop any further, so he hadnt.
After the manure hit the fan, Luke had tried to call Cindy a couple of times to see if she wanted to press charges. Hed managed to get her on the phone once; shed brushed him off with a quick, insincere assurance that she was fine, everything was fineit was all a misunderstanding.