50

Rafe felt an overwhelming sense of relief when Charlie Flynn called to report that he had Bobby Rinaldi under surveillance in the Cayman Islands.

“He’s living pretty quietly,” Flynn said. “He’s certainly not throwing his money around.”

“What’s your take on the guy?”

“Frankly, I was surprised. I expected a lot of flash and dazzle, a woman on each arm, especially after what you’d said about the way he took in your mother.”

“And?”

“He’s just an average guy. There are no women, though he hangs out at the hotel bar most evenings. If one comes on to him, he certainly flirts back, but he goes back to his room alone.”

Rafe was as startled by that as Flynn. “That doesn’t fit the image I had, either.”

“What do you want me to do?” the investigator asked.

“Keep an eye on him. If the opportunity presents itself and you can do it without stirring up any suspicion, get to know him. See if you can figure out what his motive was in running out with all that cash.”

“Will do,” Flynn said. “I’ll check in when I have something.” “Just don’t lose track of him,” Rafe warned.

“As if I would,” the investigator said scathingly. “Not for what you’re paying me. I don’t shut my eyes for a second.”

“I’m counting on that.”

Rafe hung up, his expression thoughtful. Why would Bobby Rinaldi betray Cara, run off with all that cash and hide out in the Caymans? He’d left a reasonably clear trail, so Rafe doubted he was trying to drop out of sight to avoid paying heavy gambling debts. What else could it be? Was he in trouble with some married lover’s husband? With the IRS? Rafe wondered if anyone at the restaurant might have a clue.

Knowing Cara would probably object, he didn’t tell her his intentions.

Instead, he dropped in at Café Tuscany just before opening the next day. From

the instant he entered the soothing, classy foyer, he understood what Lydia had been saying all along about the place. It was a step above most flash-in-the-pan successes. Café Tuscany wasn’t a trendy fluke. It was here to stay. Somehow he found that reassuring. It suggested that once she’d sorted through some things, Cara would be back. They could resume their relationship right here in New York, where they both belonged.

A slender, dark-haired woman wearing a simple, stylish black dress came toward him from the kitchen, a questioning expression on her face.

“We’re not open for another half hour,” she said with a warm smile.

“I know. You must be the famous Deidre that Cara has told me so much about.”

Her expression faltered. “And you are?” “Rafe O’Donnell.”

“Ah,” she said slowly. “The attorney for the investors.”

Rafe tried not to let it matter that she’d heard of him only in his professional role, not as Cara’s lover. Maybe that was for the best, since he was here to get answers.

“Some of them,” he admitted. “If you have a minute, could we talk?” She shook her head. “Without a subpoena, I have nothing to say to you.”

“It won’t take long,” he promised, though he could see from her expression that time wasn’t the issue. He was pretty sure he knew what was. He added, “It could help Cara.”

That seemed to surprise her. “You want to help her?” “Yes,” he said with total sincerity.

She studied him intently, then nodded and led the way to a table. She gestured for him to sit.

“Would you like some coffee? A cappuccino?” “Nothing, thanks.”

She sat opposite him. “What do you want to know?” “How well did you know Bobby Rinaldi?”

“Not intimately, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” she said with a touch of indignation.

“I’m not suggesting anything improper,” he soothed. “I’m just trying to get a picture of the guy. Why would he run off with all that money?”

“A woman,” she said at once.

“But he’s in the Cayman Islands all alone,” Rafe said. Her eyes widened. “You know where he is?”

“Yes.”

“Does Cara know?”

He nodded. “Was Bobby a gambler?” “No way,” she said.

“A big spender?”

“Yes, but he had the money. His take out of here was pretty substantial.”

Rafe was relatively certain that Cara had been taking very little out of the business. Why had Bobby gotten so much more? And why hadn’t that shown up on the books he’d picked up from Deidre a couple of months back?

“More than Cara’s salary?” he asked.

“I think so. I could look at the books. I’ve been paying bills while Cara’s away.”

It occurred to Rafe then that the books he’d been given had been for the restaurant’s early years, not the current one. Perhaps quite a lot had changed in the months immediately before Bobby had disappeared.

“Let me take a look with you,” he said, concluding there was no point in criticizing Deidre for not giving him the current financial records along with the others, even though the subpoena had been for everything.

He followed her into the office. She removed the latest record book from a file cabinet and opened it to the first of the year. Sure enough, Bobby’s draw from the company was dramatically more than Cara’s and higher than what he’d been taking out in past years. Had Cara known about that? Was it part of some deal they’d made? Maybe he was supposed to be paying the investors with the additional funds, though that would certainly be an unorthodox way of conducting business.

“Who wrote those checks? Cara or Bobby?” he asked Deidre.

“Until this mess, Bobby handled all of the financial details,” she revealed. “I don’t think Cara ever touched the checkbook, though she could sign checks if she needed to.”

That must have been what Bobby had counted on, that she wouldn’t even see the size of the checks he’d written to himself. He’d taken four careful years to establish a routine, then taken advantage of Cara after she’d been lulled into a false sense of complacency. Rafe’s impression of the man, never very high, sank even lower.

“Thanks, Deidre,” Rafe said when he’d jotted down a few notes. “One last thing. What was Bobby’s relationship with Cara like?”

“He adored her,” she said without hesitation. “In fact, I think he might have been half in love with her, though she wouldn’t give him the time of day, not that way. He paraded women through here, but I always thought he did it because he was trying to get Cara to pay attention, not because he cared about any of them.”

Deidre’s assessment echoed in Rafe’s head throughout the day and for the

rest of the week. He did it because he was trying to get Cara to pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention.

Dear God, was that what this had been about? Was this entire mess an attempt on Bobby Rinaldi’s part to get Cara to look at him? It was a screwy idea, but once it occurred to Rafe, he couldn’t seem to shake it. Goodness knows, he knew the power of her appeal. Why wouldn’t Rinaldi, who was reputedly an expert on women? To a charming scoundrel used to getting any female he wanted, the one who proved immune was bound to be the most alluring.

There was only one way to find out if he’d hit on the answer, Rafe concluded. He needed to talk to Rinaldi face-to-face, to confront him with what he suspected and see how he reacted.

He called Charlie Flynn. “I’m coming down there. Make sure Rinaldi sits tight. I can’t get away this week and possibly not next week. I’m due in court on a couple of cases, and I can’t ask for postponements.”

“He won’t go anywhere,” Flynn promised.

“Thanks.” He hung up slowly. What if he was right? Did Cara suspect that Bobby might be in love with her? How would she feel if she knew? Was that the reason she was so hesitant to commit to Rafe, because she returned Bobby’s unspoken feelings? Rafe really, really hated that idea, but he couldn’t ignore it.

And until he knew a whole lot more than he knew right now, maybe it was best if he kept not only some physical distance between himself and Cara, but some emotional distance, as well. Losing her now wouldn’t hurt any less than losing her later, but it might be just a little easier on his pride.