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The Highland Bad Boy

Page 55

by Amy McGavin

David picks one up too. “Decided to treat us, did you?”

“Well, while you two were playing James Bond, I was stuck here climbing the walls. Figured the least I could do was provide post-mission sustenance.”

Cat reaches for a chocolate cupcake and peels the wrapper back. When she takes a bite, a smudge of frosting gets on the tip of her nose. My fingers twitch with the urge to wipe it away, but I resist. Barely.

“So, these bills,” I say instead, tapping one of the photos on Cat’s phone. “They definitely show she’s in financial trouble?”

Cat nods, still chewing. “Serious trouble. Credit card debt, final notices, even a letter from a debt collection agency. And yet she’s still buying designer handbags and booking spa weekends.”

“Living beyond her means,” David adds, reaching out and wiping the frosting from Cat’s dainty wee nose. “Classic motive for theft.”

I lean closer to examine the photos more carefully, and my shoulder brushes against Cat’s. The contact sends a jolt through me that I pretend not to notice.

“And you’re sure the note you saw had Ashford’s name on it?” I ask. “The guest who lost the watch?”

“Positive,” Cat says. “And your initials too. RM, several times.”

My stomach tightens. “Can’t be a coincidence.”

“But without the actual note . . .” David doesn’t bother finishing the thought. Doesn’t need to. We’re all thinking the same thing.

“I know.” Cat’s shoulders slump. “I should have grabbed it when I had the chance.”

“Hey.” I catch her gaze. “You did brilliant. Both of you. Most folk would’ve bottled it, but you went through with it, and you got these photos.”

“They establish motive,” David says. “But we still need to prove she actually took the items.”

I run a hand through my hair. “And that she framed me. Cat, can you tell me more about the man? Anything you can remember might help.”

Cat wrinkles her nose, thinking. “I didn’t see much. Just his legs, really. Navy work trousers. Plain, nothing fancy.”

Something clicks in my head. Navy trousers? Not the tartan ones most of the staff wear? The maintenance team wear navy trousers. They’re more practical.

The conversation I had with Drew just before everything went to shit floods back to me. He’d asked if I’d ever considered hooking up with another staff member. Even mentioned Samantha. What was it he said?

“She’s always giving you the stink eye. Maybe she’s just mad because she wants you.”

Christ. Was he fishing? Trying to find out if I was interested in Samantha because he was already involved with her?

And if he and Samantha are screwing, then . . . might Drew also have been involved with the thefts?

No way. Drew and I get on well. He was one of the few people at the resort I actually liked. He wouldn’t betray me. Would he?

Then again, I haven’t heard from him since I was suspended. I assumed he’d been warned off, like Johnny, but what if he’s been avoiding me because he feels guilty?

“Robbie?” Cat’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You’ve gone quiet.”

“Aye. Just thinking. Navy trousers narrows it down.”

“To who?” David asks.

“Well . . . maintenance staff, mostly. But there are a few of us. Big resort, you know.” I decide to keep my suspicions about Drew to myself, at least for now. No point throwing accusations around until I’ve considered it a bit more.

Cat polishes off her cupcake and reaches for another. “Stress eating,” she explains when she catches me watching her. “Being an accidental voyeur really works up an appetite.”

David lets out a snort just as his phone chimes. He checks it then stands up. “That’s Johnny. He’s home now—finished his shift at the resort. I should probably head back.” He glances at Cat. “You heading out too or sticking around?”

Cat hesitates, her eyes flicking to mine. “I might stay a bit longer, if that’s okay?”