Secrets and Charms(50)

Kat gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you! You’re my savior.” The gate clicked closed. “Oops, and now I have to let you out.” She giggled. “I’ll have to find the remote, but first you must come inside. I should give you something for your help.”

Olly got up and patted tree-limb dust from his hands. “It’s okay, I can wait here.”

“Nonsense!” A faint frown line appeared between her brows. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere?”

“Uhm, I made a delivery from FTP once,” Olly offered. He didn’t want to bring up the party.

Her frown deepened, but then her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “But of course! I remember now. Oh, this is perfect. What’s the word…oh yeah…serendipity!” She seemed genuinely pleased, far more than the situation seemed to justify. “You absolutely must come in!” She whipped around and marched toward the house, giving Olly no option but to follow her up the long driveway.

At the end of the driveway, Olly saw a large black SUV with nasty dents and scratches on its side. It struck him as odd—people like Kat Fontaine didn’t drive around in dented cars even for a single day. Hell, they probably didn’t take their cars to the garage in person. But before he could ask, she ushered him through the door.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a leather sofa set big enough to seat an NFL team, and sailed away to parts unknown. Olly perched on the edge of his seat and craned his neck around. The interior looked straight from an interior design magazine, and someone, probably a maid, kept it so. Not a thing was out of place. He was surprised not to see a giant TV screen anywhere, but then he realized there must’ve been a media room somewhere in the house.

Kat returned with a tall glass in one hand and a pen and notepad in another. She handed him the glass. “Peach lemonade. Rosa made it. It’s the best.”

Olly took a sip, and it was pleasant enough. “Very nice,” he said to be polite.

Kat gave a pleased smile and sat on the chair next to him. “I was just thinking how I wanted a few things from Fred’s—I’d normally have Rosa write the list, but she came down with a nasty case of stomach flu. I told her not to come until she was fully recovered. So I’ve been left to my own devices.”

“You can just call your order in,” Olly suggested.

She dismissed his notion with a flick of her wrist. “Oh no, this is much more convenient. You’re already here. Give the list to your boss tomorrow morning, and tell him I need it delivered by noon. Now, be quiet and drink your tea while I write this down.”

Olly quickly figured out Kat was someone used to having people waiting on her, for her. Compiling a simple shopping list took her inordinately long, but she didn’t seem the least bit troubled by holding Olly up. She even disappeared to “check the fridge” for several long minutes. There were only melting ice cubes left in his glass by the time she was finally done.

“There you go,” she said and handed him the sheet.

Olly took it and tried to stand, but a spell of dizziness hit him, and he had to sit back down.

“Are you all right?” She leaned forward, and her face was taut with strange intensity.

“I dunno, must’ve stood too fast.” Olly shook his head. A wave of dizziness washed over him. “I feel weird.”

She sat back with a smile like a shark’s. “Don’t fight it.”

Realization zinged through Olly’s increasingly fuzzy brain. He stared at his empty glass. “You drugged me.”

“Yes, dear, I slipped a couple of white pills into your drink. What did you expect, coming here right after your buddy left?”

“My buddy?” Olly thought of Rich, but none of this made sense.

Kat eyed him with loathing. “He didn’t give a name, but he had a nasty attitude and tattoos on his neck.”

“Jimmy Boyd?” Olly blurted out. The situation was getting more bizarre than a John Waters movie.

“Ha! So you work together—I knew it!”

“No, you got it wrong.”

“The hell I do. I knew you had an angle the moment I clapped an eye on you at that party, all over my husband. All you little parasites are the same, out to leech off somebody, take their money. Well, it ends now.” There was a manic gleam in her eyes. “Your friend…what did you say his name was? Jimmy? Jimmy Boyd?”

Olly’s vision was doing funny things, and his head felt like a watermelon. He nodded his melon—or at least thought he did.

He must’ve, because Kat seemed pleased. “So I take Jimmy’s the head of your operation.”