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Chapter Three

Violet wasn’t sure she was hearing right. She knew there was something going on with Janet Collins. Curt had come by her office when he carried a note to Duke from Jordan Powell, his boss. He’d told her that he and Libby were going to have to have their father exhumed because there were suspicions that Janet, their stepmother, might have killed him. She was suspected of killing at least one other elderly man by poison. Violet and her mother knew about the waitress Mr. Hardy had had his fling with. But they’d never questioned the cause of death. And they’d never found out who the waitress was. Now, a lot of questions she hadn’t wanted even to ask were suddenly being answered.

Her lips parted on a husky sigh. “Oh, dear.”

Kemp closed the door behind him and tilted Violet’s chin up to his eyes. “I don’t want to do this,” he said softly. “But there’s a very good chance that your father was murdered, Violet. You don’t want Janet Collins to get away with it, if she’s guilty. Neither do I.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “But what about Mama?”

He drew in a long breath. “I have to have her signature. I can’t do it on yours alone.”

They exchanged worried looks.

His eyes suddenly narrowed on her oval face in its frame of dark hair. Her skin was clean and bright. She wasn’t wearing makeup, except a touch of pink lipstick. And that sweater…His eyes slid down to her breasts with quiet sensuality. They narrowed, as he appreciated how deliciously full-breasted she was. She had a small waist, too. The jeans emphasized the nicely rounded contours of her hips.

“I’ve lost weight!” she blurted out.

“Don’t lose any more,” he murmured absently. “You’re perfect.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Sir?” she stammered.

“If I weren’t a confirmed bachelor, you’d make my mouth water,” he replied quietly, and the eyes that met hers were steady, intent.

Her heart began racing. Her knees were weak. He wasn’t blind. Any minute, he was going to notice her helpless, headlong reaction.

“But I am a confirmed bachelor,” he added firmly, as much for his own benefit as for hers. “And this isn’t the time, anyway. May I come in?”

“Of course.” She closed the door behind him, unsettled by what he’d said.

“I planned to come by your office and tell you,” he said, his voice low, “but I got caught at the last minute and by the time I finished with an upset client, you’d already left Wright’s place. I’d hoped to have a little time to prepare you for what we have to do.” He glanced toward the living room door. “How is she?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip. “She’s had a slight spell this week,” she told him worriedly. “She thinks she’s stronger than she really is. Losing Daddy and finding out about his affair ruined her life.”

He bit back a harsh reply. “Should we have the doctor here while I tell her?”

She sighed wearily. “I don’t think it will matter.” She looked up at him. “She has to know. I don’t want Janet Collins to get away with murder. Neither will she. We both loved Daddy, in our way.”

“All right then.” He nodded for her to go ahead of him and he followed her into the room.

Her mother looked up and smiled. “Mr. Kemp! How nice to see you again!”

He smiled, pausing in front of her to shake her hand gently. “It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Hardy. But I’m afraid I may have some upsetting news.”

She put down her knitting and sat up straight. “My daughter thinks I’m a marshmallow,” she said with an impish look at Violet. “But I’m tougher than I look, despite my rickety blood vessels.” She set her lips firmly. “You just tell me what I need to know, and I’ll do what I have to.”

His blue eyes twinkled. “You are a tough nut, aren’t you?” he teased.

She grinned at him, looking far younger than she was. “You bet. Go on. Spill it.”

His smile faded. Violet sat on the arm of her mother’s chair.

“It must be bad, if you’re both expecting me to keel over,” she said. “It’s something about Janet Collins, isn’t it?”

Violet gasped. Kemp’s eyebrows arched over the frames of his glasses.

“I’m not a petunia. I don’t just hang on the porch all the time,” Mrs. Hardy informed them. “I get my hair done, I go to the doctor’s office, I see a lot of people. I know that Libby and Curt Collins are up to their ears in trouble about their stepmother, and there’s a lot of talk that she’s been linked to the death of an old man in a nursing home. They said she took every penny he had. And then she went on to cheat Arthur and me out of our savings, a quarter of a million dollars. It wasn’t ever proven that it was her.”

“I’ve found an eyewitness who thinks she can place Janet Collins at the motel with Arthur the last day of his life,” Kemp told her, “just before the ambulance came to take him to the hospital. She ran out the door and was seen. At the hospital the doctor, not aware of any foul play, diagnosed a heart attack from the symptoms. There was no autopsy.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Hardy said. She gave her audience a knowing look. “And you think she killed him, don’t you?” she asked Kemp.

He was impressed. “Yes, I do,” he told her honestly.

“I didn’t want to think about that, but I’ve had my doubts,” she said. “He never had heart trouble. There had been some mixup at a clinic in San Antonio and he ended up getting a heart catherization that he didn’t really need. What it showed was that his heart and arteries were in fine shape, no blockages at all. So it came as something of a surprise when he died only a month later of a supposed heart attack. But I was far too upset at his affair and his sudden death to think clearly.”

“If it’s any consolation, Janet Collins had a way with men,” Kemp replied. “She was known for playing up to older men, and she isn’t a bad-looking woman. Most men react predictably to a head-on assault.”

Violet was wondering irrelevantly if it would work with Kemp, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

“Arthur had strayed before,” Mrs. Hardy said surprisingly, and with an apologetic glance at Violet. “He was a handsome, vital man, and I was always quiet and shy and rather ordinary.”

“You weren’t ordinary,” Violet protested.

“My people were very wealthy, dear,” she told her daughter sadly. “And Arthur was ambitious. He wanted his own accounting firm, and I helped him get it. Not that he didn’t work hard, but he’d never have made it without my backing. I think that hurt his pride. Maybe his…affairs…were a way of proving to himself that he could still appeal to beautiful women even as he got older. I’m sorry, Violet,” she added, patting her daughter’s thigh. “But parents are human, too. Arthur did love you, and he tried to be a good father, even if he wasn’t a good husband.”

Violet clenched her teeth. She could only imagine how it would have felt to her, if she’d been married and her husband thought nothing of having affairs with other women.

“By the time Arthur started straying,” Mrs. Hardy continued, “I was too fragile to leave him and strike out on my own. There was Violet, who needed both her parents and a stable environment. And I could no longer take care of myself. Arthur paid a price to stay with me, under the circumstances. I don’t really blame him for what he did.”

She did, though, and it showed. Violet hugged her close. “I blame him,” she murmured.

“So do I,” Kemp said, surprisingly firm. “Any honorable man would have asked for a divorce before getting involved with another woman.”

“Why, you Puritan,” Mrs. Hardy accused with a smile.

“I’ve got company,” he jerked his thumb at Violet.

Mrs. Hardy laughed. She folded her hands in her lap. “Okay, so we’ve settled that Arthur probably had an affair with Janet Collins and she may have been responsible for his death. But unless he’s exhumed, and an autopsy done, we can’t prove it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Mr. Kemp?”

“You’re amazing, Mrs. Hardy,” Kemp replied with admiration in his pale blue eyes.

“I’m perceptive. Ask Violet.” The smile faded. “When do you want to do it?”

“As soon as possible. I’ll make the arrangements, if you’re willing. There will be papers to sign. It may make news as well.”

“I can manage. So can Violet,” Mrs. Hardy assured him, smiling up at her daughter.

“I can,” Violet assured him. “We’ll both do whatever’s necessary. Whatever Daddy did, she had no right to kill him.”

“Very well.” Kemp got up from the sofa and shook hands with Mrs. Hardy one last time. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve got things underway. You’re taking this very well.”

“Surprised you, did I?” The elderly woman chuckled.

He nodded. “Pleasantly, at that,” he said, adding a smile. “I’ll see you.” He glanced at Violet. “Walk me to the door.”

She got up and followed him out into the hall, her eyes wide and curious on his face.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked down at her for a long moment with narrow, intent eyes.

“I’ll let you know the details as soon as I work them out with the proper authorities,” he told her. “You think she’ll handle it all right?” he added, alluding to her mother.

“She will,” Violet replied with certainty. She looked up at him with soft, hungry eyes. “How is everything at work?”

He grimaced. “I have to make the coffee myself,” he muttered. “Mabel and Libby don’t make it strong enough. And Mabel is ready to tear her hair out over the extra work. So I guess we’ll be advertising for a new secretary.”

Violet didn’t notice that he had a hopeful, anticipatory look on his face, because her eyes were downcast. She thought he was criticizing her for leaving him in the lurch, and after he’d all but forced her out of his office.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to suit you, Mr. Kemp,” she said in a subdued tone.

The formality and her lack of interest irritated him. He opened the door with a jerk. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and left without even looking back.

Violet closed the door behind him, forcing herself not to look hungrily at his departing back as he left. She’d hoped just for a few seconds that he might be offering her back her old job. That was obviously not the case.

Kemp climbed into his car, irritable and unsettled by Violet’s lack of response when he’d practically laid her old job at her feet. Duke Wright wasn’t bad-looking, and he had an eye for a pretty woman. He was all but divorced now, too. Violet was attractive. He hoped Wright wasn’t trying to turn her head. He was going to check into that. For Violet’s own good, of course. He wasn’t interested in her himself.

Involuntarily, his mind went back eight years, to the only woman he’d really ever loved. Shannon Culbertson had been eighteen the year they started dating. It had been love at first sight for both of them. Kemp, who was already a junior partner in a local law firm, having graduated from college late at the age of twenty-eight, was in practice with Shannon’s uncle. They met at the office and started dating. Within a month, they knew they were going to be married one day. Shannon had gone to a party with a girlfriend, at Julie Merrill’s house. Nobody understood why Julie wanted her worst enemy at the bash, least of all Shannon—but she thought maybe Julie was willing to bury the hatchet over the rivalry of the two girls for senior president. Someone, probably Julie herself, had put a forerunner of the date rape drug into Shannon’s soft drink. She had an undiagnosed heart condition, and the drug had killed her.

It still hurt Kemp to remember the aftermath. He’d mourned her for months, blamed Julie, tried to have her arrested for the crime. But her father was a state senator and wealthy. The case never got to trial, despite Kemp’s best efforts.

He still resented the Merrills. He missed Shannon. But since Violet had come to work for him, he’d thought less and less about his old love. In the mornings, he’d looked forward to Violet’s smiling, happy face in his office. He was afraid of the feeling he got when she nurtured him. He didn’t ever want to risk loving someone again. Tragedy had hallmarked his life. He’d had a sister, Dolores, who’d died in a swimming accident his senior year of high school. His mother had died of cancer soon afterward. There had only been the two of them, because his father had gone overseas to work for an oil company in the Middle East when he was only a child, fallen in love with a French woman, and divorced his mother. He had no contact with his father. He had no interest in him.

The experiences of his life had taught him that love was dangerous, and so was getting too used to people. Violet was still infatuated with him, but she’d get over it, he told himself firmly. Better to let her go. She was young and impressionable. She’d find someone else. Perhaps Duke Wright…

His teeth clenched hard on the thought. It was strangely uncomfortable to think of Violet in some other man’s arms. Very uncomfortable.

Violet looked up from her typing one morning at the sound of approaching voices, and was surprised to find Curt Collins, Libby Collins’s brother, standing at her desk.

“Curt’s just joined the operation, Violet,” Duke Wright told her with a grin. “We’ve stolen him from Jordan Powell.”

“It wasn’t much of a steal,” Curt drawled with a grim smile. “I quit my job. Jordan’s changed lately.”

“Curt’s going to help with the cattle operation,” Duke told Violet. “If he needs any information, you can give it directly to him without having to ask me first,” he added with a smile.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Come on, Curt, I’ll show you around the rest of the operation,” the older cattleman beckoned.

“See you later, Violet,” Curt murmured.

She nodded, smiling. She watched them leave, frowning. Libby was crazy about Jordan Powell, and Curt had worked for him for years. What in the world was going on?

Curt came by just as she was getting her things together. “I suppose you’re wondering how I landed here,” he said.

She nodded. “It’s a bit of a surprise,” she replied.

“Have you talked to Kemp lately?”

Her heart jumped just at the sound of his name, but she recovered quickly. “No. I haven’t spoken to him for a week or two, I guess.”

“There’s been some unpleasantness, shall we say, between Libby and Julie Merrill.”

Violet looked blank. “I wasn’t aware that they even knew each other,” she replied.

“They’re not even acquaintances,” Curt agreed. “But Julie wants Jordan, and Libby was getting in the way.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, Julie attacked Libby and Jordan didn’t stand up for her. Jordan made some nasty remarks to Libby.” He shrugged. “I’m not working for any man who bad-mouths my sister.”

“I don’t blame you one bit. Poor Libby!”

“She can take care of herself on good days,” he said. “But Julie has some unsavory friends. Sadly for her, she walked into Kemp’s office while Libby was there.”

“Excuse me?”

He smiled. “You don’t know, do you? There’s bad blood between Kemp and Julie. She had a party at her house eight years ago and invited Shannon Culbertson, who was all but engaged to Kemp at the time. There was a rivalry between Shannon and Julie for a class office at school. Somebody put something in Shannon’s drink. She died. Julie got the office.”

“She was poisoned?” Violet exclaimed, fascinated by this private look at her taciturn boss’s life. So he had a woman in his past after all. Was that why he didn’t have much to do with women now? It made her sad to think there was another woman in his life, even a ghost. How could a living woman compete with a perfect memory?

“She wasn’t poisoned. She had a hidden heart condition,” he corrected. “Anyway, she died. Kemp never got over it. He did his best to have Julie tried for it, but her father had plenty of money and plenty of influence. It was listed as a tragic accident with no explanation, and the case was closed. Kemp would hang Julie if he could ever find an excuse to get her in court.” He leaned forward. “Just between you and me, that might happen. Senator Merrill got busted for drunk driving. Now he and his nephew the mayor are trying to get the arresting officers fired—and Chief Cash Grier, too.”

Violet’s mind had to jump-shift back to the subject at hand. She was still taking in Kemp’s secret past, one that she hadn’t even expected. “That’ll be the day, when Chief Grier will let his officers go down the drain without a fight.”

“Exactly what most of us think,” Curt said. “Grier is hell on drug traffickers. Which brings to mind one other rumor that’s going around—that Julie has her finger in a nasty white powder distribution network.”

Violet whistled. “Some news!”

“Keep it to yourself, too,” he admonished. “But the point of the thing is, I was without a job and Duke said I could work for him.”

“Welcome aboard, as one refugee to another.”

“That’s right, you and Kemp had a mixer, too, didn’t you?” He smiled wryly. “Libby told me,” he added when she looked surprised. “But I heard it from three other people as well. You don’t keep secrets in a town like Jacobsville. We’re all one big family. We know all about each other.”

She smiled. “I suppose we do.”

“How’s your mother taking the exhumation?”

The smile faded. “She says it’s not bothering her, but I know it is. She’s very old-fashioned about things like that.”

He looked angry. “We feel the same way. But we had to let them exhume Dad, too. Nobody wants Janet to walk away from another murder.”

“That’s how Mama and I feel,” Violet agreed. “But it really is hard. Have you heard anything yet?”

He shook his head. “They say the results will take time. The state crime lab is backed up, so it won’t be a quick process. That will make it worse, I guess.”

She nodded. “But we’ll get through it, won’t we?” she added.

He smiled at her determination. “You bet we will.”

Blake Kemp was fuming. He’d been so busy with work that he’d forgotten the exhumations until Libby had actually asked him about them. He’d promised her that he’d get right on it. But the disturbing news had nothing to do with possible murders. It had to do with the fact that Curt Collins, Libby’s brother, was taking Violet to Calhoun Ballenger’s volunteer staff meeting at his ranch on the following Saturday.

He’d been worried about Violet letting Duke Wright turn her head, and here she was going on a date with a very eligible, upstanding member of a founding family of Jacobsville, Texas. Even Kemp couldn’t claim descent from old John Jacobs himself. Duke might have a lot of warts, but Curt was a fine young man with a promising future. And Violet was going to date him.

He didn’t understand his own violent opposition to that pairing. Violet was nothing to him, after all. She was just his ex-secretary. He had no right to care if she had a private life.

But he did care. The thought of her with Curt made him uneasy. He knew Calhoun Ballenger from years past. He frequently handled cases for him. He admired and respected the local feedlot owner. There was no reason he couldn’t get himself invited to that meeting. He just wanted to make sure Violet didn’t do something stupid, like falling into Curt’s arms at the first opportunity. It was his duty to protect her. Sort of. He picked up the phone and dialed Calhoun’s number, refusing to consider his motives in any personal way.

The meeting was riotous. There were people gathered around the big recreation room that Kemp hadn’t seen face-to-face in years. Some were frankly a surprise, because at least two of the county’s biggest Republican contributors were in the front row.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Police Chief Cash Grier asked him with a grin, noting the direction Kemp was staring. “Ballenger’s crossing party lines all over the place. He’s well-known in cattlemen’s circles, and locally he’s the original hometown boy who came out of poverty to become a millionaire. He did it without any under-the-table dealings as well, I hear.”

“That’s right,” Kemp told him. “Calhoun and his brother, Justin, were the poorest kids around. They made their fortunes honestly. They both married well, too.”

“Calhoun’s wife was his ward, they say,” Grier mused.

“Yes, and Justin married a direct descendant of Big John Jacobs, the founder of Jacobsville. Between them, they’ve got six boys. Not a girl in either family.”

At the mention of children, Grier became quiet. He and his houseguest, Tippy Moore, a rising movie star, had lost their baby just before Tippy’s little brother was kidnapped and held for ransom. Tippy had traded herself for him, an act of courage that still made Grier proud. Their relationship was rocky even now, and Tippy was a potential victim of one of the kidnappers who’d eluded police in Manhattan.

Kemp glanced at him, aware of the older man’s discomfort. “Sorry,” he murmured. He knew about the baby because the story, a false and very unflattering one, had played out in the tabloids when Tippy had miscarried.

Grier let out a long breath. “I never knew I wanted kids,” he said quietly, not meeting Kemp’s gaze. “Hell of a way to find out I did.”

“Life evens out,” Kemp said philosophically. “You have bad days, then you have good ones to make up for them.”

Grier’s dark eyes twinkled. “I’m due about two years of good days.”

Kemp laughed without humor. “Aren’t we all?”

Grier’s attention was captured by someone behind Kemp. He pursed his lips. “Your ex-secretary sure has changed.”

Kemp was aware of his heart jumping at the statement. He turned his head and there was Violet. But she looked very different. She was wearing a neat little black skirt with a dropped-waist blue top that was cut modestly low in front. Her hair was around her shoulders, but it had frosted tips. She looked ten pounds lighter, and very pretty.

She noticed Kemp and her heart raced. Beside her Curt was watching the byplay with amusement, because Kemp couldn’t seem to help staring any more than Violet could.

“I need to talk to someone,” he told Violet. “Can you manage without me for a few minutes?”

“Yes!” She curbed her enthusiasm. “I mean, yes, that would be all right, Curt. Thanks.”

He chuckled, winked at her, and strolled off.

Kemp walked up to her. He was dressed in an open-necked shirt with a sports coat and navy slacks. He looked expensive, sophisticated, and good enough to eat. Violet could hardly keep her eyes off him.

He was having a similar problem. It was odd how much Violet had been on his mind lately. He saw her in the office even when she wasn’t there. He’d been uneasy since he’d seen her at her mother’s house, and they’d parted on a harsh note.

“Still like working for Duke?” he queried stiffly.

She shrugged. “It’s a job.”

His eyebrow jerked. “Your hair looks nice,” he murmured, reaching out to take a strand of it in his strong fingers. “I don’t like frosting as a rule, but it suits you. You’ve lost more weight, too, haven’t you?”

“It may look like it, but I haven’t really,” she replied, lost in a haze because of contact with him. “I’ve just been learning how to dress to make the most of what I have.”

His eyes slid up to meet hers. “That’s what life is all about, Violet,” he said gently. “Learning how to make do with what we’re given. You don’t need to lose any more weight. You look great.”

She flushed and smiled radiantly. “Do you…really think so?”

He moved a step closer, aware of pleasure centers opening all over his mind as he looked down at her. “Do you like trout?”

It was an odd question. She blinked. “Trout? Well, yes.”

“Why don’t you come over for lunch tomorrow? I’ll fry trout and make a pasta salad to go with them. You can take some home to your mother.”

Violet’s jaw dropped. She stood gaping at him while she tried to decide, quickly, if she’d lost her mind and was having hallucinations.