in town.”
She knew he referred to Blanton’s Builders and glanced at Zeph. He didn’t shift his gaze from her father. Almost certainly Zeph had come here knowing that, but she was sure he wouldn’t admit it.
He didn’t get a chance. The phone had rung a moment before, and now Martha came to the door. “Judge? It’s from the jail.”
Her father rose. “As I said. The odd call from one of Monty’s guests. I wonder who’s in trouble this time,” he said and left the room.
He returned a few minutes later.
“Don’t tell me. You have to go,” Allie said.
“I’m afraid you’re correct. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so go ahead and have Martha serve your dessert now.”
Allie went to him and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Zeph added his thanks. After her father had left, Allie looked across the table at him. “Now what?”
“Now we eat this very lovely looking gelato, I hope. Does Martha make it herself?”
“Dad’s gone. You don’t have to keep pretending, Zeph.”
“Yes, but Martha’s still here. And your father might be lurking in the hall or outside the window to see what we say. And there are listening devices.”
“All right, Mr. Bond. I get it.” She ate a spoonful of Martha’s lemon gelato. “But this isn’t Private Eye 101.”
“Maybe it should be.” He sampled his dessert. “Excellent.”
She ate in silence, faster than Martha’s masterpiece deserved. Zeph followed her example, and looked up from his empty bowl at the same time she did. “Now what?”
“Time to investigate your father.”
“Yes. And prove he isn’t involved.”
“This is your chance to help me.”
“Put my money where my mouth is?” She stood.
“Fine. Make sure your father’s gone and that Martha won’t come looking for us.”
She gave him a suspicious look but decided to comply, and gathered up the dishes. When she’d taken them to the kitchen and seen that Martha had started washing them, she returned. “Now what?”
“Now we do a little light burglary.” He wrapped an arm around her, but used it to pull her down the hall to her father’s office.
“You can’t be serious.”
His sardonic look disabused her. Serious had to be this man’s middle name when it came to his work. “Stand by the door and listen for anyone coming.”
Scarcely believing what she was doing, she moved to the door and cracked it open.
Zeph homed in on the computer. Wentworth had left it on, and he scanned the directories. Nothing of interest. “Not a big computer fan, is he?”
Allie smiled. “Not exactly. He uses one at work, but he’s close to paranoid about hard copy backup. He once had a whole case go missing from his computer the day before he was due in court, and the backup file was on a thumb drive that his secretary dropped down the garbage disposal.”
“By accident?”
“So she said.” Disbelief colored every word. “After that, Dad started keeping hard copies of important stuff in locked files.”
“I would have gotten rid of the secretary, too.”
“He did.”
“So we might find hard copy even though there aren’t any electronic files of interest.” His gaze didn’t waver from the desk, and he had the intent look of a hound on a fresh trail when he honed in on the one locked drawer in the desk. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Except they weren’t keys.
Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “Are those lock picks?”
“Yep.” He had the drawer open before she could say anything. No way would she stay by the door. She had to see too, and scooted across the room to look over his shoulder. The nearly empty drawer held only three things—a folder and a packet of letters, which Zeph set on the desk, and a framed picture. When he lifted the picture out, Allie touched it gently. “My mother. He loved her so.”
Zeph inspected the back of the picture carefully and set it back in the drawer before picking up the packet of
She knew he referred to Blanton’s Builders and glanced at Zeph. He didn’t shift his gaze from her father. Almost certainly Zeph had come here knowing that, but she was sure he wouldn’t admit it.
He didn’t get a chance. The phone had rung a moment before, and now Martha came to the door. “Judge? It’s from the jail.”
Her father rose. “As I said. The odd call from one of Monty’s guests. I wonder who’s in trouble this time,” he said and left the room.
He returned a few minutes later.
“Don’t tell me. You have to go,” Allie said.
“I’m afraid you’re correct. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so go ahead and have Martha serve your dessert now.”
Allie went to him and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Zeph added his thanks. After her father had left, Allie looked across the table at him. “Now what?”
“Now we eat this very lovely looking gelato, I hope. Does Martha make it herself?”
“Dad’s gone. You don’t have to keep pretending, Zeph.”
“Yes, but Martha’s still here. And your father might be lurking in the hall or outside the window to see what we say. And there are listening devices.”
“All right, Mr. Bond. I get it.” She ate a spoonful of Martha’s lemon gelato. “But this isn’t Private Eye 101.”
“Maybe it should be.” He sampled his dessert. “Excellent.”
She ate in silence, faster than Martha’s masterpiece deserved. Zeph followed her example, and looked up from his empty bowl at the same time she did. “Now what?”
“Time to investigate your father.”
“Yes. And prove he isn’t involved.”
“This is your chance to help me.”
“Put my money where my mouth is?” She stood.
“Fine. Make sure your father’s gone and that Martha won’t come looking for us.”
She gave him a suspicious look but decided to comply, and gathered up the dishes. When she’d taken them to the kitchen and seen that Martha had started washing them, she returned. “Now what?”
“Now we do a little light burglary.” He wrapped an arm around her, but used it to pull her down the hall to her father’s office.
“You can’t be serious.”
His sardonic look disabused her. Serious had to be this man’s middle name when it came to his work. “Stand by the door and listen for anyone coming.”
Scarcely believing what she was doing, she moved to the door and cracked it open.
Zeph homed in on the computer. Wentworth had left it on, and he scanned the directories. Nothing of interest. “Not a big computer fan, is he?”
Allie smiled. “Not exactly. He uses one at work, but he’s close to paranoid about hard copy backup. He once had a whole case go missing from his computer the day before he was due in court, and the backup file was on a thumb drive that his secretary dropped down the garbage disposal.”
“By accident?”
“So she said.” Disbelief colored every word. “After that, Dad started keeping hard copies of important stuff in locked files.”
“I would have gotten rid of the secretary, too.”
“He did.”
“So we might find hard copy even though there aren’t any electronic files of interest.” His gaze didn’t waver from the desk, and he had the intent look of a hound on a fresh trail when he honed in on the one locked drawer in the desk. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Except they weren’t keys.
Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “Are those lock picks?”
“Yep.” He had the drawer open before she could say anything. No way would she stay by the door. She had to see too, and scooted across the room to look over his shoulder. The nearly empty drawer held only three things—a folder and a packet of letters, which Zeph set on the desk, and a framed picture. When he lifted the picture out, Allie touched it gently. “My mother. He loved her so.”
Zeph inspected the back of the picture carefully and set it back in the drawer before picking up the packet of
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