He returned a few minutes later, certain the town house wasn’t under surveillance. They climbed into his shiny black Jag and Kenzie gave him directions to Arthur’s mansion on Deloache Avenue in Old Preston Hollow. As they pulled up in front of the house, which resembled a French château, Kenzie noticed a for-sale sign in the yard.
“Looks like Tabby was right,” she said. “Arthur loves this place. There’s no way he would sell it unless he had to.”
“Let’s go see what he has to say.” Reese got out of the Jag and they walked together up to the porch. As Reese rang the doorbell, Kenzie noticed the drapes were drawn in Arthur’s study and several rooms upstairs.
It took a few minutes before the door swung open and Arthur’s housekeeper, Betty Vernon, a stout, older woman who had worked for Arthur for years, stood in the opening.
“Hello, Betty,” Kenzie said, casting Reese a warning glance. There would be at least one witness to whatever he might have planned. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Betty looked nervous, her gaze going from Kenzie to Reese and back. She had definitely heard the rumors that Kenzie was responsible for Lee’s death.
“I’m afraid Mr. Haines is a little under the weather,” the housekeeper said. “In fact, I was just about to leave. Mr. Haines gave me the rest of the day off so he could have the house to himself.”
Kenzie reached out and touched the woman’s arm. “We need to talk to him, Betty. It’s about his grandson.”
“It’s important,” Reese added.
Betty hesitated, clearly uncertain. “All right, I’ll just go up and tell him you’re here.”
“You don’t need to worry.” Kenzie smiled. “We’ll check on him, make sure he’s okay.” Kenzie hoped her concern appeared at least half-genuine, though she had never been much of an actress. “You go ahead. We promise not to stay too long.”
Reese gave her one of his most charming smiles. “Thanks, Betty. Enjoy your day off.”
Not surprisingly, Betty returned his smile and stepped back to let them in. They climbed the sweeping staircase, holding on to the ornate wrought-iron banister. Though the sun was shining outside, the gilded wall sconces were burning, necessary with the bedroom doors all closed, blocking the sunlight. The master suite sat at the end of the hall, the door also closed. Was Arthur that ill? Or was he hiding from something? Or someone?
Kenzie rapped lightly. “Arthur? It’s Kenzie. I need to talk to you.”
A brief pause ensued. “I’m not feeling well. You’ll have to come back another time.”
Instead Reese opened the door and they walked into the huge master suite. A big four-poster bed dominated the room, a pair of suitcases sitting open on top of the peach silk counterpane. One of the bags was full, Arthur busily throwing clothes into the other.
“Going somewhere?” Reese drawled, the coolness in his tone disguising the anger Kenzie read in his face.
Arthur just stood there, his gaze darting around the room in search of a way to escape.
“How can you be part of this, Arthur?” Kenzie’s temper rose. “Lee is dead. Griff’s been kidnapped. Are you that desperate?”
Arthur’s thick silver eyebrows pulled together in a frown. His shoulders slumped as if lead bars weighed them down. He looked ten years older. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re not fools,” Reese said. “We know you’re involved in this. Tell us where the boy is and you can fly off to wherever the hell you want.”
The color drained out of Arthur’s face. “The boy? You don’t mean Griff? Are you...are you saying someone has kidnapped my grandson?”
“You know they have,” Kenzie said, fighting to stay in control. “You wanted the Poseidon. The kidnappers are demanding Reese back out of the purchase in exchange for Griff’s release.”
Arthur swayed. He might have fallen if Reese hadn’t gripped his shoulder, dragged him over to a nearby chair, and shoved him down into the seat.
“Mother of God,” he said. “I didn’t know, I swear. I owe them money. They said they’d get the rig for me so I could pay them back, but...but...”
Reese stared down at him. “But what, Arthur?”
Arthur said nothing.
“By now your housekeeper is gone and we’re all alone in this big house,” Reese said. “On most occasions, I’m a civilized man, but I can promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to wring the information out of you.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “I’ll do what I have to—and enjoy every minute of it.”
Arthur just sat there shaking his head. “I didn’t know about Griff until you just told me. They said they’d get me the platform. They never told me how.” His eyes, a pale shade of blue, found Kenzie’s across the bedroom. “I’m sorry, my dear. So sorry. I’d never do anything to hurt the boy.”
“Who’s behind this, Arthur?” Reese pressed. “Give me a name.”
