Kitabı oku: «In The Arms Of The Law», sayfa 3

Most women would’ve panicked at the thought of a prowler trying to break into their house and would’ve run for the nearest phone to call the police. Not Andi. She was the police. Her only emotion at the moment was anger, and it was a toss-up as to what made her more mad: the damage done to her screen or the fact that someone had attempted to break into her house.

With her mouth set in an angry line, she climbed down from the ladder and set aside the sander. Sinking to a knee, she examined the ground beneath the window. The mulch spread around the shrubs and flowers in the bed that lined the back wall was over three inches thick and well packed, which negated any chance of finding a clear footprint.

Frustrated, she stood, bracing her hands on her hips as she looked around, trying to figure out how the prowler might have gained entry. The privacy fence that enclosed her backyard on three sides was covered in flowering vines she’d planted during the two years she’d owned the home, which made scaling the fence difficult, if not impossible.

Beyond the fence were her neighbors—the Huckabees at the rear, whom she knew only in passing; Mr. and Mrs. Brown on the right, a dear, elderly couple with whom she enjoyed visiting when she was out working in her yard or on her house; and Richard Givens on the left, a fiftysomething divorcé, who considered himself God’s gift to women.

She shuddered in revulsion at the thought of Richard, with his bleached-blond hair, fake-bake tan and thick gold rope chain he wore around his neck, a throw-back from the disco era, no doubt. He’d made more passes at her than a professional quarterback and continued to do so even after she’d repeatedly told him she wasn’t interested. But the man had an ego the size of Dallas and a hide as thick as a rhinoceros, which obviously made him impervious to her refusals.

Frowning, she peered at the iron gate that opened from the side yard that ran between her house and Richard’s, the only other means of gaining entry to her backyard. She kept the gate locked at all times, unless she was outside. But she supposed a person could climb over it, if they wanted to badly enough. Richard was certainly physically capable of scaling the gate, but she couldn’t imagine why he would want to get inside her house.

She heard the familiar squeal of tires on the driveway next door and groaned, knowing it was Richard arriving home. A red Corvette braked to a stop in front of his garage. Yesterday he’d been driving a BMW coupe. An unending supply of cars to choose from was one of the many perks he enjoyed as the owner of a used-car lot.

Hoping to escape before he saw her, she grabbed her sander and started up the ladder.

“Hi, Andrea! Working on the house again?”

Stifling another groan, she stopped and forced a polite smile. “Yeah. I’m trying to get the rear wall scraped before it gets too dark to see.”

He wagged a stern finger. “All work and no play makes Andrea a dull girl.” Grinning, he motioned for her to join him. “Come on over and I’ll mix us up a batch of martinis.”

“Sorry, but I’ll have to take a rain check.” She hefted the sander for him to see. “Duty calls.”

“Ah, come on,” he wheedled. “Surely you’ve got time for one of my famous dry martinis.”

She set her jaw to keep from screaming her frustration. “No, Richard, I really don’t.”

His smile slipped a bit at her refusal, then he shrugged and turned away. “Your loss.”

Staring, she choked a laugh. My loss? Shaking her head, she started up the ladder again. The guy was crazy. Certifiably insane. She stopped, her smile fading as she remembered the attempted break-in. No, she told herself, and resumed her climbing. Richard was a nuisance, but he wasn’t a criminal.

Or at least she didn’t think he was.

Shaking off the thought, she flipped on the sander. At the same moment, her cell phone rang. Muttering a curse, she shut off the machine and tugged the phone from the clip at her waist. “Matthews,” she snapped into the receiver.

“We’ve got a stabbing out on Maynor Road. Pete’s Place.”

She frowned, surprised to hear Gabe’s voice and not that of the dispatcher on duty. “Why are you calling me and not Joe?”

“Because I’m at the station and Joe has his hands full.”

She glanced at her wristwatch, gauging the time. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

“It’ll be faster if I swing by and pick you up.”

“No, I—” Before she could tell him she preferred to drive herself, there was a click and then the dial tone.

Furious that he’d hung up on her, she shoved the phone back onto its clip at her waist and stomped her way down the ladder.

She showered and changed clothes in record time and was locking her front door when Gabe pulled up in front of her house.

With her mouth set in a hard line, she climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door. “I don’t need a chauffeur,” she informed him tersely, “and if you hadn’t hung up on me, I could’ve told you that on the phone.”

He spared her a glance. “Are you this bitchy with everybody or do you reserve all your anger for me?”

Jutting her chin, she faced the windshield. “You rub me the wrong way.”

He put the truck in gear. “That’s odd. I don’t recall laying a hand on you.”

Before she could think of a smart comeback, he stomped the accelerator and the truck shot forward, thrusting Andi back against the seat. She wanted to demand that he slow down, but remembered the last time that she’d commented on his driving he’d considered it a dare, and decided not to push her luck.

“What’s the situation at Pete’s Place?” she asked, hoping if she distracted him, he’d slow down on his own.

“Stabbing. Jarrod, the new rookie, responded to the call.”

“Something’s always happening at Pete’s Place. Ten to one it’s over a woman.”

“As much as I’d like to accept your bet, it would be like taking candy from a baby.”

She gave him a droll look. “I take it you don’t think it started over a woman.”

He took a turn on two wheels, then shook his head. “No. Fights over women usually take place nearer to closing time, when folks start to pair off.”

She lifted a brow. “Is that the voice of experience speaking?”

“No. Common sense.”

“Okay, if not a woman, then what do you think started it?”

He made a sharp turn into the parking lot of Pete’s and braked to a rock-spitting stop behind the patrol car already at the scene. “Most of the men who hang out at Pete’s are construction workers. My guess is that it’s a disagreement they brought with them from the job.”

She reached for the door handle. “Well, let’s see which one of us is right.”

It appeared that the entire bar had emptied into the parking lot to watch the fight. Customers and employees alike formed a human wall that Gabe and Andi had to shoulder their way through before finding their victim. He sat on the ground beside a truck, his back propped against its rear tire, holding a blood-soaked cloth against his left arm. More blood was spattered on his shirt and jeans. Jarrod, the rookie cop, was standing off to the side, shooting the breeze with the ambulance driver.

Setting her jaw, Andi stalked toward him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The rookie jerked to attention. “Nothing, sir—I—I mean, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” she snapped, then pointed a stiff finger at the victim. “Do you realize that man might very well be bleeding to death while you’re over here flapping your jaws?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am. I tried to get him to let the paramedics load him up in the ambulance, but he won’t let anybody near him.”

Making a mental note to discuss later with the rookie his inability to control a scene, she turned for the victim, but found Gabe had beat her there. Judging by the conversation between the two, it appeared they knew each other.

“Hey, Dal,” she heard Gabe say. “How bad is it, buddy?”

“Pretty bad,” Dal said, then gulped and began to unwind the crude bandage he held on his arm. “He cut me deep.”

Andi winced as Dal exposed the gaping wound.

“It’s deep all right,” Gabe confirmed. “Looks like he sliced you clear to the bone. We need to get you to a hospital.”

Dal drew back against the tire and shook his head. “No. Ain’t got the money to ride in no ambulance. My brother Bill’ll be gettin’ off work soon. He’ll take me.”

“What time does Bill get off?”

“Works the four-to-eleven shift over at a convenience store in San Antonio.”

His expression grim, Gabe pushed his hands against his thighs. “I can’t let you sit here and bleed to death, while you wait on your brother.”

Dal kept his eyes fixed on Gabe, as Gabe stood. “I ain’t goin’ in no ambulance. I told you, I ain’t got the money to pay.”

“You’re not going in the ambulance,” Gabe informed him. “You’re going with me.”

Shocked, Andi watched as Gabe helped Dal to his feet. When he began guiding the man to his truck, she quickly fell in behind them.

“Who did this to you?” she heard Gabe asked Dal.

“Whitey. A guy on my crew. Had to fire him today. Can’t have a man on the payroll who thinks he can come and go whenever he pleases.”

Andi stifled a groan. Gabe didn’t so much as glance her way, but she heard his “I told you so” as clearly as if he’d shouted it at the top of his lungs.

Three

Andi didn’t question Gabe’s decision to personally escort Dal to the hospital. And she didn’t question him when he gave his own mailing address to the nurse on duty and told her to send him Dal’s bill. But by the time they were back in his truck and headed for her house, the questions were burning holes in her tongue.

“Taking a victim to the hospital isn’t part of the job,” she said, seeking a noncombative opening.

“I know.”

“So why did you do it?”

He stopped at a stop sign, waited for a car to cross the intersection, then drove on. “You heard him. He couldn’t afford an ambulance ride.”

“That’s not your fault, nor your responsibility.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I wasn’t about to let him sit there and bleed to death while he waited for his brother. I doubt you would’ve, either.”

“No,” she agreed, “but I sure as heck wouldn’t have offered to pay for his medical care.”

“He’ll make good the debt.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “Come on, Gabe. If he couldn’t afford to ride in an ambulance, do you really think he can come up with the money to pay a hospital bill?”

“Dal might not have the cash on hand, but he’s an honest man and a damn good framer. I’ve been wanting to build a storage shed behind the cabin.” He lifted a shoulder. “He can work off the loan.”

She stared, unable to associate this kind gesture with the Gabe Thunderhawk she knew. Or, rather, the Gabe Thunderhawk she thought she knew. His rep around the station was that of a tough cop, one who didn’t have to ask a perp twice for his cooperation. Most of them took one look at him and fell to the pavement, offering their wrists for the cuffs.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

She blinked, startled by the unexpected question, then frowned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Why?”

He glanced at the rearview mirror. “Someone’s following us. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t your boyfriend, before I tried to lose him.”

She whipped her head around to look out the rear window but couldn’t see anything but the glare of headlights from the car behind. “Are you sure he’s following us? He could be just headed in the same direction.”

“He’s been on our tail ever since we left the hospital. Hold on,” he warned. “We’re going to see how badly he wants us.”

She grabbed for the chicken bar as he spun the wheel to the right and took a corner on two wheels. When the truck leveled out to all four tires, he glanced at the rearview mirror again. “Must not want us too badly.”

He sped up and took the next left, doubling back to the street they’d originally been traveling on. He stopped at the intersection and looked both ways. “Lost him. He must’ve realized we’d made him.” He turned right and raced down the street, but whoever had been tailing them had disappeared from sight.

“Do you have any enemies?” he asked.

She frowned, remembering the bent screen she’d discovered at her house earlier that evening. “None that I’m aware of.” She glanced his way. “But why assume he was after me? He could’ve been following you. We’re in your truck, after all.”

“Maybe. Cops have more enemies than friends. Detectives even more. Has anyone you’ve put behind bars been released lately?”

She searched her mind and could come up with only one name. “Dudley Harris was released three months ago.”

“The wife beater?”

She flattened her lips as she recalled the details of the case. “One and the same. Served six months of a two-year sentence. Got out on good behavior.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“I know where he used to live. His wife sold their house and moved away not long after he went to prison.”

“Smart lady.”

“Not always. She let him use her for a punching bag for years before we finally persuaded her to press charges.” She shook her head sadly. “She was scared to death of him. Made excuses for him all the time. Claimed it was her fault he knocked her around.”

“That’s not unusual in cases of abuse. Once the cops arrive, the wife usually changes her story and ends up taking the blame for what happened.”

“Yeah,” she agreed bitterly. “Because she knows if she doesn’t, she’ll get a worse beating after the cops leave.”

“Harris probably holds you responsible for him losing his wife and home. Could be he’s looking to even the score.” He pulled up in front of her house and shoved the gearshift into Park. “I’ll go inside and take a look around.”

She reached for the door handle. “If you think I’m afraid to go into my own house alone, you’re wrong. Dudley Harris doesn’t scare me.”

She climbed down, but when she rounded the front of the truck, she found Gabe waiting for her at the end of the sidewalk. “I don’t need your protection,” she informed him. “I can take care of myself.”

He opened his hands. “Who said anything about protecting you? My mother would skin my hide if she knew I’d dumped a lady on the side of the street without properly seeing her to her door.”

Scowling, she pushed past him. “Tell her you did. I’ll back up your story if she questions your honesty.”

He fell into step behind her. “I’d never lie to my mother.”

She shot him a frown over her shoulder.

He lifted his hands. “Even if I tried, she’d see right through the lie. I swear, the woman is a living and breathing lie detector machine. Growing up, she knew I was fibbing before I ever spun the yarn.”

In spite of her frustration with him, Andi had to bite back a smile as she dug in her shoulder bag for her key, imagining Gabe as a young boy. “I’ll bet you were a handful.”

“No more so than my brothers.”

She inserted the key in the lock, then glanced his way. “Brothers? As in plural?”

“Yeah. Five, to be exact.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Five?” At his nod, she released a long breath. “Wow. I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up with that many kids in one house.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“None. I’m an only child.” She turned the key and pushed open the door. When he would have followed her in, she shifted to block his way. “You’ve seen me to my door. Your mother will be proud.”

“Did I mention that she expected me to go inside and check all the windows and doors, and look under the bed?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Nice try, but if there are any bogeymen waiting for me, I’ll take care of them myself.”

He leaned to peer around her. “Is that your cat?”

She whipped her head around. “I don’t have a—”

Gabe used the distraction to slip by her.

Realizing she’d been duped, she flattened her lips in a scowl. “That trick is as old as I am.”

He started down the hall toward the kitchen. “You fell for it, didn’t you?”

She shut the door and marched after him. “This is ridiculous. I don’t need you to search my house.”

He flipped on the back porch light, then lifted the drape over the window above the sink to peer outside. “You’ve got a message on your answering machine. You might want to check it.”

Andi whipped her gaze to the telephone and was surprised to see that the message light was, in fact, blinking. Frowning, she hit the play button. Ten seconds of recorded silence was followed by a click.

He glanced her way. “Do you get a lot of hang-ups?”

Avoiding his gaze, she punched Delete. “No more than the next person.”

He dropped the drape and turned. “Has the number increased lately?”

“What is this?” she asked impatiently. “An interrogation?”

“Yeah. So do I need to get out the bright lights or are you going to answer my question?”

She sagged her shoulders in defeat. “Okay, so maybe I’ve received a few more than usual, but that doesn’t mean someone is gunning for me.”

He headed for the hallway. Andi charged after him. “Where do you think you’re going now?”

“To your bedroom.”

She stood in tight-lipped silence, watching as he peered under her bed, then opened her closet door. He shoved the hanging clothes to one side and looked in. When he was satisfied that no one was hiding there, he dragged the hangers back into place and started to close the door. He stopped, then reached in and drew something out.

Andi’s cheeks flamed in embarrassment when she saw that he was holding her black teddy.

He held it up by a crooked finger. “Would you mind modeling this for me?”

She snatched it from his hand, then pointed to the door. “Out.”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Out,” she repeated.

Smiling, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed for the hallway. Andi followed to make sure that he left. At the front door, she stopped, watching as he continued down the walk toward his truck.

“If you get scared,” he called over his shoulder, “you know where I live.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

He climbed inside his truck, then rolled down the window and shot her a wink. “Wear that little black thing and I might even let you sleep in my bed.”

Andi stood before Leo’s recliner, eyeing her regular partner critically. “How much weight have you lost?”

“I don’t know. Thirty pounds or so.”

“And your doctor is okay with that?”

Scowling, he turned his gaze to the television screen and punched the remote, changing the channel. “You’re as bad as Myrna. Bunch of hens clucking around me all the time. Can’t even take a leak without somebody tagging along to watch.”

Accustomed to Leo’s grouchiness, Andi bit back a smile. “Where is Myrna, anyway?”

“Went to the movies with her girlfriends. Said she’d had about all the togetherness she could stand. I say good riddance. I’ve had about all I can take of her, too.”

Laughing, Andi dropped a kiss on his bald head. “If I didn’t know you were nuts about each other, I’d worry.”

“The old bag’s been hanging around for thirty-seven years. Can’t see dumping her now.”

“Good thing. You’d never find another woman as good as Myrna.”

“I guess she’s all right.”

Which in Leo-talk meant he was crazy about her. Chuckling, Andi dragged over a stool to sit at his feet. “So when are you scheduled to see the doctor again?”

He gave her a bored look. “Why don’t you quit beating around the bush and tell me what’s on your mind? I know damn good and well you didn’t come over to discuss my health.”

She wanted to deny that anything was troubling her, but she knew she couldn’t fool Leo. Sometimes it seemed he knew her better than she knew herself. “It’s Gabe,” she admitted reluctantly.

“If he’s not carrying his share of the workload, just give me the word and I’ll come up to the station and whup his ass.”

Chuckling, she closed her hand over Leo’s on the armrest and gave it a squeeze. “And you would, too.”

“Damn straight.”

Growing serious, she drew her hand back to her lap. “It’s not his work ethic. I can’t fault him there.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Unsure how to voice her concerns, she stood and began to pace. “Chief Prater is making us go to the charity ball at the country club Saturday night. He thinks we can pick up a lead there on the Lost Fortune case.”

“Free food and liquor? Where’s the complaint?”

“Gabe keeps referring to it as a date.”

“Ahhh,” he said, nodding knowingly. “So that’s the problem.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a woman, he’s a man.” He opened his hands. “The juices were bound to start flowing sooner or later.”

She flattened her lips. “You and I have been partners for nine years and I’ve never even once thought about having sex with you.”

“And you’re thinking about having sex with Gabe.”

She stiffened, realizing what she’d said. She considered telling Leo that his heart attack must have affected his hearing, because that wasn’t what she’d said, at all.

Instead, she sank to the stool and dropped her forehead to her hands. “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” she said miserably. “One minute I want to claw his eyes out and the next I’m mentally undressing him.”

“Sounds like love to me.”

She jerked her head up to glare. “I am not in love with him.”

“In lust, then.”

She gave him a droll look. “Leo, I’m thirty-six. Lust is reserved for teenagers and twentysomethings.”

“Hell, I’m sixty-two and I still get a kick out of chasing Myrna around the bedroom.”

Wincing, she held up a hand. “Please. I can do without that visual.”

“You think sex is only for kids? Hell, the older a person gets the better it gets.”

“Leo!” she cried.

He raised his hands. “All right. All right. I won’t say any more.” He lifted a brow. “But I feel I should warn you. Pipes can rust from lack of use.”

She leaped to her feet, her cheeks burning. “That’s it,” she said, and headed for the door. “I’m getting out of here.”

Laughing, he called after her, “Next time you come over, bring Gabe with you. I want to hear the details of y’all’s date.”

Though it irritated Andi every time she thought about Leo referring to her assignment with Gabe at the country club as a date, by Saturday night even she had to admit she felt as if she was preparing for one.

She’d spent over two hours showering, styling her hair and applying her makeup, then burned another hour agonizing over what to wear. The dress she’d finally settled on was a simple black sheath, with a hemline that struck her legs at midcalf. A cowl collar at the neckline dipped in front to reveal a hint of cleavage.

With her gaze fixed critically on her reflection in the mirror, she adjusted the cowl collar higher over her breasts, then twisted around to peer at the back, where the collar plunged to an inch below her waist, exposing a daring amount of bare skin.

“I did not choose this dress to impress Gabe Thunderhawk,” she said for the zillionth time since putting it on.

Unfortunately her conscience still refused to buy the story.

Sagging her shoulders in defeat, she turned to face the mirror again. Okay, so maybe she had chosen it with him in mind. But it was his fault that she was thinking of him at all! He was the one who kept trying to put an intimate spin on what should be a professional relationship.

Frowning, she glanced at her closet, remembering him standing in front of it with her black teddy dangling from the tip of his index finger. And the nerve of the guy, offering to share his bed with her if she’d wear it. Did he ever think about anything other than sex?

Convinced that he didn’t, she dropped a tube of lipstick into her evening bag and checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. Leaning close to the mirror, she touched a finger beneath her lower lash to smooth away a smudge of mascara. The makeup was overkill in her estimation, but necessary for a black-tie event at the country club. And the upswept hairstyle had taken forever to arrange, but again a requirement if one wanted to mix and mingle with the rich and famous and not stick out like a sore thumb.

The doorbell sounded, signaling Gabe’s arrival. She glanced at her watch and frowned, noting that, as usual, he was late. She quickly slipped her feet into the three-inch black slings she’d laid out, knowing full well she’d regret the choice before the night was over, and hurried to the front of the house. She took a moment to draw in a calming breath, then opened the door. It lodged in her throat at her first glimpse of him.

She’d half expected him to defy the chief’s order to wear a tux, but he was wearing one…or parts of one. He had on the slacks—thank God—and he held the jacket draped over his shoulder by a crooked finger. It was the shirt that was the problem. Technically she supposed he was wearing it. But he hadn’t bothered to tuck in the tails or button it up, which left a large portion of his chest exposed.

Slowly she lifted her gaze to his. “Have you lost your mind?” she asked in disbelief, then shot a frantic glance behind him to see if anyone was looking. “What will my neighbors think?”

“That you have a hot date?”

Flattening her lips, she dragged him inside and quickly closed the door behind him. “This isn’t a date.”

“So you keep saying.” He tossed the jacket over the back of a chair. “I told the guy at the rental place that I hated bow ties. He suggested this collarless shirt. Said it was formal enough, as long as I wore these.” He opened his hand, to reveal a tangle of black onyx studs. “Unfortunately, he failed to mention how to attach them.”

She huffed a breath and snatched one from his palm. “If you’d asked, I’m sure he would’ve been more than happy to show you.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “No way was I letting that guy anywhere near my body.” He opened his arms in invitation. “But you, on the other hand, have my permission to touch me anywhere you want.”

She burned him with a look before stabbing the post through the slot beside the top-most button.

“Hey!” he cried, flinching as the post dug into his skin. “I said you could touch, not maim.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, though she didn’t feel so much as a morsel of regret.

As she tugged the black disk through the button hole, she gathered her irritation with him around her like a shield, using it to protect her from the intimacy of the act she performed.

But after attaching only two studs, she discovered her irritation was no match for his maleness. Not when her knuckles brushed his bare skin each time she inserted a post. And not when, with each breath she drew, she inhaled an intoxicating blend of sandalwood and pure male.

She heard a low hum of approval and glanced up to find his gaze fixed on her chest. Realizing that, with her arms lifted, her dress gaped to reveal an embarrassing amount of her breasts, she quickly dropped her arms and took a step back.

“Do you want my help or not?”

He rolled his lips inward to hide a smile. “You know I do.”

“Then close your eyes. And no peeking,” she warned.

She waited until he’d followed her instructions, then set to work again.

After fitting the last stud into place, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Done.”

He opened his eyes and smiled. “Thanks.” He unfastened the hook at the waist of his slacks and turned his back to her. “How long do you think we’ll have to stay at this shindig?”

She stared, unable to believe that he had unfastened his slacks in front of her. She started to look away, but the scrape of his zipper seemed to freeze her gaze, and she continued to stare, mesmerized, as he stuffed his shirttail into the waistband of his slacks. It was such a simple act, yet so utterly…male.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

He tugged up the zipper, then faced her again and gave her a quick look up and down. “That’s a hot little number you’re wearing. Let’s see the back.”

Before she could dodge him, he’d clamped his hands on her shoulders and was angling her around.

“No,” he corrected, his voice dropping an octave. “It’s downright sinful.”

She could feel the heat of his gaze sliding from the nape of her neck to her waist and closed her eyes, suddenly dizzy.

He smoothed his hands down her arms and dipped his face to her ear as he linked his fingers with hers. She stifled a shiver, unable to remember the last time a man had touched her in this way. The sensual abrade of flesh skimming over flesh. The heat of a man’s body pressed close to hers. The moist warmth of his breath caressing her ear. It would be so easy to let her head loll back against his shoulder, offer her neck to his mouth, his lips. To feel again the hot rush of desire as it spread through her body.

But that would be giving in to her more basic needs, exposing a weakness that could be taken advantage of. She’d learned over the years that the only way to resist lust was to avoid it all together.

Knowing that, she stepped from his embrace and away from temptation.

“Good job,” she said as she reached for her evening bag. Pasting on a smile, she turned and gave his cheek a proud pat. “If you can keep up that act, no one at the country club will ever suspect that we’re there to spy on them.”

From the porte cochere where costumed valets waited to park the guests’ cars, to the country club’s main dining room where champagne flowed from a multispouted fountain into giant silver bowls placed around its base, it was obvious that whoever was in charge of organizing the party had spared no expense.

Arabian Nights was the theme for the evening, and the huge sheets of boldly striped fabric draped from the ceiling to the corners of the room created the illusion of the interior of a sheik’s tent. Waitresses dressed as Arabian princesses and waiters decked out as sultans moved through the crowd, offering guests drinks and hors d’oeuvres from ornate silver trays. The French doors that separated the dining room from the patio were thrown open, allowing peeks of a star-studded sky and giving the guests the freedom to move from one area to the other.