The Paper Caper, page 9
For now, Ashley the Magic Marketer was enough of a draw for the photographers, who eagerly pointed their cameras in her direction. The various reporters had gathered around her and were rapidly writing down everything she said.
As she continued to speak, I suddenly heard the sounds of voices hissing in the foyer, just around the corner from where Derek and I were standing.
“How could you betray me?”
“I’m doing the right thing.”
“You’ll destroy everything!”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
Derek and I both leaned closer to the archway and caught Ingrid standing nose to nose with Hobson the butler. She was shaking her finger at the man, then jabbing him in the chest, trying to make a point.
Hobson was growing angrier. He straightened up to his full height and glared at the woman. The look of fury on his face made me wonder whether he intended to squish her like a bug or just punch her in the face. He did neither, simply grabbed her jabbing hand tightly and shoved it away from himself.
“I could kill you for this.”
“Calm down, Ingrid,” he whispered.
“How can I calm down when you’ve ruined everything?”
“Me?” he said in a furious whisper. “You’ve already taken care of that.”
“We had an arrangement.”
He sniffed derisively. “And now we don’t.” He turned and stormed off, disappearing down the hallway.
That’s when I noticed another man standing in the shadow of the doorway across from me, nervously chewing at his thumbnail. He was fair-haired and in his mid-thirties, I thought, and nice looking. He wore a tailored vest and necktie over a long-sleeved white shirt and black trousers. His outfit was similar enough to Hobson’s that I speculated that he might be the under-butler.
There had to be a better term for that job, I thought.
Meanwhile, Ingrid looked mad enough to explode. She remained in the same spot for a few more seconds, literally shaking with anger. Judging from the look on her face, I imagined she would’ve loved nothing better than to track Hobson down and beat him senseless. And then she spied the under-butler in the doorway. “You!”
He shook visibly.
“Come here.”
The man glanced around to make sure Ingrid was actually speaking to him. Then he shuffled from the doorway and walked toward her as though he were heading for the gallows. She grabbed his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction from Hobson.
“What was that all about?” I asked in a hushed tone. “Could you hear what Ingrid said?”
“Yes,” Derek said quietly. “She told Hobson that he’s ruined everything. I couldn’t hear his response.”
“And I’m pretty sure I heard him say, ‘You’ve already taken care of that.’ ”
We stared at each other for a long moment.
“They had an ‘arrangement’?” I said.
“None of it sounds good,” Derek said.
“No. And did you see the way she was looking at him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I mean, if looks could kill, right?”
“Don’t even whisper those words,” he warned.
I winced. “They both scare me a little.”
“I imagine they must’ve been arguing about Joseph,” he said.
“Or Ella.”
“Perhaps,” he mused.
“But why was Ingrid so angry?”
I wondered where Ella had gone off to. Maybe she was working behind the scenes, helping the caterers arrange the dessert platters.
I almost snorted at that impossibility.
Derek turned to look in the direction of the fireplace. “Here’s Joseph now.”
I was glad I’d worn stilettos for the single reason that I could actually see over the heads of some of the crowd. Ashley stepped aside and Joseph moved up to the microphone.
Several men holding professional-looking video cameras moved a little closer and I decided they were from the local news stations.
“The time has come,” Joseph said, his voice rich and mellow. “Are you nervous?”
There were titters and chuckles from the crowd.
“Me, too!” he said with a laugh. “And I already know who won!”
Someone shouted, “Put us out of our misery, Joe!”
Joseph laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll introduce our runners-up in a minute, but first, I’m very pleased to name our three distinguished judges for this contest. Please stand up as I introduce you.” He quickly named three local celebrities who had been part of the judging committee. One was a chef at one of Derek’s and my favorite restaurants. The second was a popular TV weatherman on San Francisco’s top-rated news program. The third was a wealthy socialite who was basically famous for being famous and showed up at all the movie premieres and art shows.
The three were in different areas of the living room and they each stood, acknowledged the applause, then sat down.
And then Joseph announced the names of the runners-up. Two men walked around the panel divider and joined Joseph at the microphone. The crowd was relatively quiet as they stared at the two men and studied their features. Both of them actually looked a little like Joseph. It was mainly the hair, I thought.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Joseph said, and grinned at the two men, who wore big smiles as well. And no wonder, I thought, since they were both going to receive a check for five thousand dollars for basically doing nothing.
“And now for the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” Joseph said. “But first, let me remind you that the winner will receive a brand-new wardrobe, from hats and scarves to shoes and socks, courtesy of Brooks Brothers and Macy’s Men’s Store; grooming products and supplies provided by the Men’s Salon at Neiman Marcus; and of course, a year’s subscription to the Clarion.” He chuckled, then took a deep breath. “And he’ll also receive . . . One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars.”
I glanced at Derek, who was trying not to scowl. It was definitely a lot of money, which only promised to make his job harder.
At the mention of the money, the audience burst into wild applause, accompanied by screaming and shouting.
It was unreal, I thought, to be able to win all those prizes and money, simply because you looked a certain way. But it was Joseph’s money. Well, it probably wasn’t all his money. It had to have come from some business account and it would all be written off as a business expense.
“Okay, here we go.” Joseph was grinning like a ten-year-old kid. “The winner of the first annual Mark Twain Festival Look-Alike Contest is . . . Tom Cantwell! Come on out here, Tom!”
I stood on tiptoe to get a look at the man but everyone else had the same idea, darn it, so once again I couldn’t see a thing. Some people were even standing up on the chairs. The still photographers rushed up to get some good shots of both men. This was a major moment and would probably be the front-page story tomorrow.
I knew I would see the man eventually, so I bided my time and applauded along with everyone else.
And then it hit me. The name of the winner of the look-alike contest was . . . Tom Cantwell? I had been reading The Prince and the Pauper along with the rest of the city and knew that the name of the “pauper” in the book was Tom Canty. Wow, talk about a coincidence.
Joseph continued. “I want to tell you a little something about Tom. He was born and raised in the Bay Area and he still lives in the city. He’s a voracious reader, which we can all relate to.”
Since there were a lot of book people in the crowd, that line received a nice round of applause.
“Tom joined the Army when he was eighteen and stayed in for twelve years. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, the Bronze Star, and the Purple Heart. Pretty amazing record, don’t you think?”
This time the applause from all of us was thunderous.
I turned to Derek. “Can you see his face?”
But Derek had simply disappeared.
Chapter 7
Concerning the difference between man and the jackass: some observers hold that there isn’t any. But this wrongs the jackass.
—Mark Twain’s Notebook, 1898
I stared at the spot where Derek had been standing a few seconds ago, then whipped my head around to check out the room. He was nowhere to be seen.
Where had he gone? And why hadn’t he said something?
I strained to get on my tiptoes again to see over the heads of the crowd. Had he gone up front to stand with Joseph? That made the most sense since it had been his main concern since he’d heard about the threatening phone calls.
But he wasn’t there, either.
I took one step up into the foyer to try and get a better look at the crowd, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Oh God.
No need to panic, I thought. He had to be here somewhere.
Right?
If something happens, go directly to the car, lock the doors, and wait for me.
Why had he said that to me? Damn it! Now I was completely paranoid.
Seriously, where had he gone? Did something happen? Was this the moment he had been talking about? My heart began to race and I wondered if I should run out to the car as he’d said and lock the doors.
I decided to go the opposite route and chill out. At least for the next five minutes. If I couldn’t find Derek after that, then I would panic.
Okay, time to chill. I relaxed my shoulders but noticed that I was wringing my hands.
“That’s not chill,” I whispered.
Okay, so I wasn’t going to chill. And if Derek didn’t show up in about ten seconds, I was going to burst into tears or scream. Maybe both. I anxiously felt for the key in my pocket. Yes, it was still there.
This was just stupid. Derek was somewhere in the house, doing something. I strained to see through the packed crowd, but couldn’t spot my tall, dark, and dangerous guy standing anywhere in the room.
You’re being silly, I told myself. And now you’re talking to yourself. I took a breath and said, Calm down. Just calm down.
What was wrong with me? I was an independent person! Derek didn’t have to report his every move to me! I took some more deep breaths. Everything was fine.
I was starting to get angry. Mostly at myself because it wasn’t like me to be so freaked out by something like this.
But hey, I wouldn’t be so freaked out right now if Derek hadn’t warned me to run to the car and lock all the doors earlier.
So this was all his fault.
That worked for me.
Maybe he had gone down the hall to use the bathroom. I had to admit that was a real possibility. So why hadn’t he told me where he was going?
I shook my head in disgust. We weren’t joined at the hip! Get over it. He was probably talking to one of his secret operatives in another room. Or maybe he was talking to Hobson.
I sighed. He would show up in a minute and I would feel like a fool for worrying so much. But again, I reminded myself that it was all Derek’s fault for making me paranoid.
Maybe he had stepped outside to get some fresh air. No, he wouldn’t do that. Maybe he was at the bar, getting another glass of champagne for me. That would be very sweet of him, but I doubted he was doing that, especially since I could see a couple of waiters walking through the crowd with trays of champagne-filled glasses.
So maybe . . . he had simply disappeared.
For the tenth time I checked that the car key was still in my pocket. Yes, it was. Rather than stand here and panic, I needed to move so I walked quickly through the foyer—or as quickly as I could in these ridiculously strappy stiletto heels. Pushing open a swinging door, I found myself in a huge kitchen filled with caterers and helpers putting service trays together. The under-butler was quietly supervising the activities, going from counter to counter. He watched as two women placed small desserts on at least twelve fancy trays. At the sink, two men were washing dishes and loading the dishwasher with dirty plates. They were all too busy to pay any attention to the guest—me—who was wandering through the kitchen.
At the far end of the room was an open doorway that led to a fully stocked butler’s pantry.
Wow, this was a nice space, I thought, then mentally smacked myself. Focus!
I zipped through the pantry and saw another door at the opposite end.
Too many darn doors in this place, I thought. But I pushed open the next door and found myself back in the living room. The fireplace was right here and it looked bigger and even more beautiful up close. The room divider was still standing and it blocked everyone’s view of me. That was one small blessing.
Joseph himself stood right in front of me, still at the microphone, where he chatted with the winner, who, from the back, appeared to be someone who had fallen on hard times, if his wrinkled shirt and scuffed shoes were any indication.
So this was the guy the judges had chosen as Joseph’s look-alike? From where I stood, I could only see his partial profile. I couldn’t see any resemblance. Or maybe it was the week’s worth of stubble on his face that was throwing me off.
Suddenly someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled around to find Derek smiling at me. “Hello, darling.”
“You!” I cried.
“Where did you go?” he asked. “I was looking for you.”
I wanted to curse him but threw my arms around him instead. “I—I didn’t know where you went.” The words came out a little wobbly, but I didn’t cry or sniffle or anything. Because, really, that would be insane.
He wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, “but as soon as Joseph announced Tom’s name, I knew I had to move in closer. I alerted my operatives as well. I had hoped you would stay where you were and simply enjoy the show. I went back there to find you, but . . . well, here you are.”
All the while he spoke to me, he was looking around, aware of everything happening nearby.
“What are you looking for?” I whispered. “Are you expecting trouble?”
“Always.”
Later I would give him grief about leaving me in the dark, so to speak. And for making me feel like a fool. For now, I was just relieved that he was here.
Joseph was still talking to Tom at the microphone and the crowd appeared to be mesmerized. They were alternatively laughing and gasping and sighing, and all the while, I still hadn’t seen the winner’s face.
“Did you meet the winner?” I asked.
Derek nodded his head. “Yes.”
“Are you concerned about him?”
“Not particularly.”
“So you don’t think he’ll try to hurt Joseph?”
“No.” He frowned. “He’s a genial sort.”
“But you’re guarding him, too?”
He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “We’ll talk later.”
At that moment, Hobson the butler appeared in the doorway behind us. “If you’ll pardon me, sir. We’re removing the room divider panel.”
Derek glanced at me and I knew he was considering whether or not to duck back into the kitchen.
“That’s fine,” he said with a nod to Hobson. Two men in waiters’ uniforms folded the room divider and carried it out of the living room.
Derek and I moved closer to the wall near the fireplace. I realized we were on full display, which wouldn’t have bothered me except for the fact that Derek seemed to be expecting danger at any minute.
“It’s all been explained in the Clarion,” Joseph was saying, “but I’ll briefly repeat what’s going to happen this week. Just like in The Prince and the Pauper, Tom and I will change places. Tom will move into my rooms upstairs and will take on many of the duties that I normally perform at home each week.”
“Dude,” someone in the audience called.
It was Tom’s turn to chuckle. “I know, right?”
“Totally.” The guy in the audience sounded like my dad, who was a diehard Grateful Dead fan. It sounded like Tom was, too, and it seemed that he’d thought to bring a friend along for moral support.
Joseph continued, “Tom lives in an SRO in the Tenderloin, otherwise known as a single room occupancy, so we’ve made the decision not to invade that space. Instead I will be moving to an unknown location, where I will perform janitorial services for the next four days.”
The room exploded with laughter.
“No way!” a woman cried.
“You’re going to be a janitor?” someone said. “Get real!” And they howled with laughter.
“It’s not much of a hardship,” Joseph insisted mildly, “considering the kind of real work so many people do every day.”
I glanced around at the people who had spoken out and had the strongest desire to smack them upside the head! There was nothing wrong with working as a janitor. In fact, we’d all be in a lot of trouble if the janitors of the world went on strike.
I suppose I was a little sensitive because years ago I’d spent several summers working as a housemaid in an exclusive Sonoma hotel. It was hard work, and to be honest, there were times when I really hated some of the snooty attitudes I encountered. But I made enough money to pay for my books for three semesters of college, and that was what mattered to me at the time.
Also, Derek and I knew that Joseph had spent a few years after college working with a charitable foundation to rebuild houses that had been devastated by storms. Would that be considered menial labor by these people?
I could feel myself getting more riled up by the snobbish reactions of the crowd and I had to talk myself down. Deep breaths, I thought. At that very moment, Derek slipped his arm through mine and I could’ve kissed him as I felt a wave of calm envelop me.
