“So we can follow the vehicle on the computer.”
“That’s right. Kind of like Google Maps. We can get the addresses of wherever he goes.”
“I’m likin’ that.”
“Me, too.” Pulling a tiny black plastic square out of the bag, she held it up. “And last but not least, we have one of my favorites. A wireless, voice-activated audio transmitter.You program it by sending a text to the SIM card in the unit, then you call it from your cell phone and you can listen to what’s happening within thirty feet of the device. No rings, no beeps, no clicks to alarm the target. And there’s no distance limitation because you’re listening on your phone. You can call from anywhere.”
Beau took the device from her fingers and studied it. “If we hide this inside his car, we can listen to his conversations, phone calls, or with passengers.”
“That’s right. It sends a signal to my cell whenever audio is being transmitted.”
“I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed. There’s a chance I’ll wind up back in jail, but it’s still an impressive bag of tricks.”
Cassidy stuck the last device back into the bag and checked her watch. “We need to get over to the costume shop. The afternoon’s almost gone.”
The Beamer fired up as Cassidy clicked her seat belt into place. “So how about Robin Hood? I could go as Maid Marian.”
Beau flicked her a glare in answer. Cassidy chuckled as he made a final check of their surroundings and pulled out of the parking lot. Her humor slowly faded. They were going to the party to try to catch a killer.
The trip to Floyd’s Antiques and Costumes no longer seemed like fun.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The charity ball at the exclusive Westhaven Country Club was in full swing by the time Beau drove up in front of the entrance. A young, white-jacketed parking valet jerked open the Beamer door while another young man swarmed around the hood of the car to the passenger side to help Cassidy out.
The weather was rotten. A fine, damp mist hung in the air, and clouds obscured the moon. The dampness made the roads slick and seeped into Beau’s costume, but the moonless night would provide cover as he moved through darkness.
He’d been careful to ensure they weren’t followed. Will Egan and his security team hadn’t spotted any unfamiliar vehicles in the area, so he wasn’t expecting trouble. But Cassidy hadn’t either, the night she’d driven out to the cemetery.
Beau checked his surroundings as he stepped out of the BMW, which blended in well with the Cadillacs, Jaguars, and Mercedes being valet-parked in the lot half a block from the main entrance. He’d done a quick drive-through and spotted what appeared to be Vaughn’s white S550 coupebefore he’d pulled up in front of the club. He’d check the registration when he got inside the car to be certain it was Vaughn’s.
He rounded the car to where Cassidy waited, nervous energy sliding through him as he offered her his arm and they started up the front-porch steps toward the two-story redbrick building. Six huge white Corinthian columns spread across the front, and yellow light gleamed from every window.
Heading for the arched white double doors at the entrance, they joined the reception line behind a couple dressed as Romeo and Juliet.Romantic coupleswas the theme, which Cassidy had neglected to mention until they got to the costume shop.
Another couple wore Peter Pan and Wendy outfits. Beau bit back a grin at the poor SOB, who looked ridiculous and downright embarrassed in his ugly green tights—no question his wife had insisted he wear them.
Beau was dressed as a pirate, in a full-sleeved white shirt and black breeches tucked into knee-high jack boots. The breeches fit like a second skin, which Cassidy seemed to be enjoying a little too much. The good news was a jerkin—similar to an unbuttoned long leather vest—covered the Glock in the clip holster on the belt around his waist. A black satin head scarf covered most of his hair, and both of them had their masks in place.
Dressed as a tavern wench, in a short, black gathered skirt, an embroidered, off-the-shoulder blouse, and a red corset that cinched in her waist and shoved up her full breasts, Cassidy looked delicious. Exactly the distraction they might need.
After a heated argument about who was going to plant the bugs in and on Malcolm Vaughn’s car—definitely him—Cassidy had grudgingly agreed. Mainly because he’d told her he wasn’t going to the damn ball any other way.
She might be a private investigator, but she was still not completely healed. He’d noticed her quick intake of breath more than once when something jostled her ribs. He had a hunch she was still fighting an occasional bout of dizziness.
Once inside, he handed the computer-generated tickets to the matron behind the table, dressed in a medieval costume, her heavy breasts spilling over the barely there blue velvet bodice.
The woman smiled. “Welcome to the Children’s Home Valentine’s Ball.” She glanced down at his tickets. “Oh, I see you’re one of our VIPs. You’ll find a table right in front of the podium reserved for our most special patrons.”
Drawing any sort of attention was the last thing he wanted, but with luck, they’d be finished and on their way by the time dinner was served.
“Thank you.” Beau urged Cassidy toward the doors leading into the reception room in front of the main ballroom.
“Well, we’re in,” she said as they walked into the big open chamber.
Beau glanced down at her, his gaze landing on the soft mounds shoved up like a feast for a king—or in this case, pirate king. He felt a surge of heat and jerked his eyes away before the breeches he had jammed himself into betrayed his lusty thoughts.
“Let’s order a drink and mingle,” he said. The reception room was decorated for Valentine’s Day, with bouquets of pink roses on linen-draped, stand-up tables, pink and red crepe paper swirled among red hearts and cupids. Valentine’s Day was still a way off, but the guests didn’t seem to care.
