Colton's Deadly Trap, page 3
Alexis shivered again. She wished none of this had happened. That no one had broken into Max’s home, that the package had never arrived, that the note had never been written.
Roland looked at him from over his shoulder. “Does the NYPD have any leads?”
Max dragged a hand over his close-cropped hair. “None.”
Roland put the single sheet of plain white paper back into the box. “I’ll look into this package with our mailroom and our post office contact. And I’ll keep both of you apprised of what I learn.” His look included Alexis. “Sorry, Aaron.” The security director’s stern look eased a little as he broke into one of his rare smiles.
Aaron waved both hands. “It’s all good. I get it.”
Roland’s muscle memory returned his features to their usual serious setting. He pulled his wallet from the inside pocket of his uniform jacket. “In the meantime, I’d encourage you to update the NYPD on this development.”
Max inclined his head. “I’ll do that.”
Roland handed Max his business card. “Here’s my contact information, in case they have questions for me.”
Max took the cream card and examined it. “I appreciate your help.”
Roland turned to leave. “I’ll brief my staff and let them know about the possible threat. We’ll keep an eye on you—without being intrusive. And we’ll keep you updated whether we discover anything or not.”
“Thank you.” Max sounded relieved and grateful.
Alexis approached him. “Max, if there’s nothing else, we’ll leave you to update the NYPD and settle in. If you do decide to get some rest before dinner, I recommend turning the Do Not Disturb switch on your phone.”
Those dreamy milk chocolate eyes caught hers. “Thank you for everything, Alexis. You’ve helped to put my mind at ease.”
The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered. “Of course.” She swallowed. “We take our guests’ safety very seriously.”
Even those without dreamy eyes and New York accents. In addition to keeping Max safe, Alexis was keenly aware that a threat to one guest could affect the well-being of others at the resort—clients as well as staff.
* * *
“We’re so glad you arrived safely.” Max’s mother, Erika Ross-Powell, spoke on a sigh of relief.
“We thought we’d hear from you hours ago.” Maxwell Powell II spoke at the same time.
Max had called his mother after Alexis, Roland and Aaron had left late Friday afternoon. Erika had put him on speaker so his father could join the conversation. As usual, they talked over each other. Max mentally shrugged. It was a family trait. He and his sisters did the same thing.
Erika admonished her husband. “MJ, he’s calling us now.”
“MJ” was short for Maxwell Junior, which was his father’s designation before Max’s birth.
Max sat on the edge of the mattress and surveyed the bedroom as he spoke with his parents. Its decor was similar to the sitting area: bamboo flooring, ceiling and furniture. Instead of artwork, the north-facing wall had a large picture window that framed the mountain ridge. The scent of wildflowers came from the three vases placed around the room, one on the dressing table facing the bed and one on each nightstand.
“Sorry I didn’t call sooner.” He absently stared at the colorful area rug beneath his loafers. It was identical to the ones in the sitting area. “I met the resort’s senior concierge. We discussed some of the tasks I’ll need help with while I’m here.”
And he’d had a suspicious package to deal with. He didn’t want to get into that, at least not with his parents. Not now. He wasn’t withholding information. He didn’t have anything to share. In fact, he had more questions than answers. How had the stalker known where he would be or when he would arrive? Had the thief planned to return his stolen items all along? Most importantly, who was harassing him and what did they want? He’d keep the incident to himself for now. His parents would only worry, which would increase his stress.
“How beautiful is the resort?” Erika’s question replaced his troubled thoughts.
Max imagined his mother holding the phone between herself and his father, her eyes wide with excitement. “It’s very beautiful.” He rose from the mattress and crossed to the window. Once again, the view stole his breath. “Adam and his siblings have a lot to be proud of.”
“Try to find time to relax and unwind.” Erika was in full-on Mom Mode. “You’ve been under a lot of stress and working so hard for so long. You deserve to have at least a little fun.”
“Your mother’s right. You’re there.” MJ paused as though he was sipping a beverage. Was it coffee? His father was addicted to the stuff, but probably not. It was after seven over there. His mother cut off his supply after 4 p.m. “You might as well enjoy yourself.”
“It was nice of Adam to invite you to the resort and give you a discounted rate, but you’re still paying something.” Erika’s tone was gentle persuasion. “Make the most of it.”
An image of Alexis appeared in Max’s thoughts. “I promise to try.”
Max wandered the room. He ran the tips of his fingers over the bamboo dressing table as he eyed the matching nightstand. The design was calming and intriguing.
“How are you feeling?” Erika asked.
Max could almost hear her concerned frown. He sensed her grip on the phone as though she was wrapping her arms around him.
“I’m fine.” He hesitated. “A little tired.” By not telling them about the mailing, he’d already lied by omission. He wouldn’t add another sin to the list.
“Couldn’t you sleep on the plane?” MJ sounded surprised. “I know it was a long flight.”
“You know he’s never been able to sleep on a plane.” Erika laughed. “It used to drive me nuts. Miri and Melly would fall asleep as soon as the plane took off. But not Max. He’d stay awake the whole time, which meant one of us had to be alert the whole time.”
Those family trips were great—once they got off the plane. Max still envied his sisters’ ability to sleep during the flights.
“Have you heard anything more from the police about those break-ins at your condo?” MJ’s abrupt change of subject caught Max off guard.
“No, they don’t have any updates.” Before calling his parents, Max had spoken with the officers assigned to his case about the package. They’d told him they didn’t have any new information on the investigation. Somehow Max didn’t think his outdated cell phone or used deodorant stick was a priority for them. “I’ve asked the building manager and a neighbor to keep an eye on my condo until I get home.”
“The attractive young woman who lives across the hall?” Erika’s sly tone hinted at the ulterior motive for her question.
His mother was anxious for all her offspring to give her grandchildren. His older sister, Miriam, was the only one married. She worked with their mother, who was a casting director. Miri and her husband, Odell, weren’t in a hurry to have kids. Neither Max nor his younger sister, Melanie, were in a relationship. In addition to designing jewelry, Mel was an up-and-coming actress. Like Max, her focus was on building her career. Her dedication was paying off. She’d landed a supporting role as an FBI agent in a new crime drama. With the success of their first season, the show had been renewed for two more seasons. Max was as excited as if he were in the cast.
MJ had wanted Max to join his production company, but Max’s first love had always been cooking. Owning a restaurant had been his dream. MJ had finally accepted that, giving him ideas and suggestions along the way. His father had been thrilled when a studio had offered Max his own cooking show. MJ had declared they were now a show-business family.
Max shook his head, more amused than exasperated. “That’s right, Mom. My very attractive neighbor—who’s happily engaged and planning her wedding to someone else—is keeping an eye on my condo.”
“Son, I’ve been giving some thought to the second season of your show.” MJ offered another drastic subject change. Max braced himself for his father’s input. “You should tape the show in front of a live audience.”
All at once, the fatigue of the travel, time zone change and weeks of restless nights crashed into him. Max’s body was heavy with it. His eyes struggled to stay open. “Dad, I’m not really up to talking about plans for next season right now. I’m pretty—”
MJ’s enthusiasm couldn’t be stopped. “What do you think of the idea? It’s a good one, right?”
Max rolled his shoulders to ease his tension. “Dad, you have years of experience in both television and film production. You know opening a show’s production to a live audience would be expensive. We’d have to double our security, add bathrooms and offer audience members at least water if not snacks.”
“You could recoup all those costs by charging for the tickets. People would pay good money to watch you cook in person.”
Oh, boy.
“Why would anyone pay to watch me cook in person when they could attend tapings of late-night talk shows for free?” Max returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “And what if no one came?”
“It’s worth the risk, son.” MJ’s tone brushed aside all Max’s concerns. “Having a live studio audience would add energy to the show. Trust me. I know this. As you said, I have a lot more years of experience in the TV and film industries than you do.”
Those words put Max’s back up. “I know, Dad, and I respect your experience. But the show has been successful. Our viewing audience has consistently put us in the top ten ratings.”
“Yes, and that’s wonderful. But that was only the first season. Don’t you want a long-running program?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“Non-celebrity cooking shows are beating you in the ratings.” MJ paused again as though taking another sip from a beverage. Maybe it was coffee. His father sounded overcaffeinated. “Historically, they do better anyway. You have to beat them at their own game. That’s why you have to return your show to the people. Put them in the center of your program.”
“You want me to change the format of the show?” The muscles at the back of his neck were knotting. Why didn’t his father have more faith in his ideas? What was he doing wrong? What could he do better? What more could he possibly do to prove himself to his parent?
Erika intervened. “MJ, let Max get some sleep. First your own restaurants, then the cooking show and now a publishing contract. No wonder you’re tired. We’re so proud of you, hon.”
“Of course we’re proud of him.” MJ sounded like he was only half listening. “But think about the idea, son. You’re doing great! But you could do even better. There’s room to grow.”
Max had been hearing those words all his life. They were his motivation—and his burden. When would success be “good enough”?
“I don’t think the show’s producers would want to break the bank on adding a live audience, Dad. The show’s not a comedy.” At least it wasn’t intended to be.
MJ tsked. “If they give you any pushback, just remind them they have to spend money to make money.”
“Let him rest, MJ.” Erika’s tone was firmer this time. “Hon, we’ll let your sisters know you landed safely. That way, they won’t text you while you’re trying to sleep.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He loved being part of a close-knit family. It was great knowing there were people who were always looking out for you—except when that concern prevented his sleep.
“Your mother’s right. Get some rest, son. We’ll talk more about the studio audience idea after you’ve had a chance to rest.”
“All right, Dad.” Max appreciated the warning.
* * *
“You’ve been scamming our guests.” Alexis stared across the rectangular blond wood conference table at Mark Bower late Friday afternoon. The twenty-something-year-old was the newest addition to her concierge team.
Leticia Bailey sat between them at the head of the table. The tall, slender personnel director wore a striking mustard pantsuit with an ebony shell blouse. Long thin dark brown braids framed her diamond-shaped brown face.
Mark’s round glass-green eyes flared wide with surprise. He obviously hadn’t seen this coming. Alexis clenched her teeth. How long had he expected his clandestine operation to last? She relaxed her jaw and once again thanked the good fortune that had allowed her to uncover his dealings before they’d gone any further.
He shot a panicked look at Leticia before answering Alexis. “No, I haven’t.”
Alexis heard the fear in his words. Her muscles trembled with outrage. She wanted to shout at Mark that he was a liar. But he’d already damaged her professional reputation and caused her to question her own judgment. She wouldn’t let him take her self-control, too.
She drew a long breath of the cool, citrus-scented air and tightened her grip on her temper. “I heard you speaking with the Elliots at the paddocks.”
The horse paddocks were in the northern part of the resort. Earlier in the week, Alexis had taken one of her exploratory late-morning walks around Mariposa, checking on guests and waving at coworkers. That’s when she’d overheard Mark speaking with the Elliot family. Mr. Elliot was a famous television star. He’d come to the resort with his wife and their four preteen children.
“You were spying on me?” Mark’s shaggy sandy-blond hair swung forward as he leaned into the table. At least part of his anger seemed manufactured to put her on the defensive. He failed.
Alexis’s voice was tight. “The Elliots sounded so happy that you were able to get their event tickets. It’s such a nice feeling when guests appreciate our work. Then I heard you tell them that as usual, you’d added the cost of the tickets to their resort bill, but you were invoicing them separately for the service fee to reduce their tax burden. Imagine my surprise. As you know, we don’t have a service fee.”
Leticia tapped the manual on the table in front of her. Her chunky bronze earrings, a match to her necklace, swung as she turned her head toward Mark. “You signed a statement attesting to your having read the employee handbook. The handbook explicitly states staff are not permitted to accept any type of gratuity related to or in the course of employment.”
The Coltons’ legal counsel insisted on that specific language to ensure that clause encompassed bribes from the media and paparazzi.
Mark’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbed. “Well, yeah. I… I read it.”
“And you went to all the new employee orientation seminars.” Leticia flipped through several sheets of paper. “Your signature appears on each of these attendance certifications, confirming you attended and understood the policies, benefits and conditions of employment covered during the sessions. So you are aware soliciting and/or accepting gratuities in any form is cause for immediate dismissal.”
“That policy exists for many reasons.” Alexis clenched her hands together on the table, entwining her fingers. “First, this is an all-inclusive resort. Our guests have prepaid for every service, meal and activity available to them at the resort. Second, we don’t want employees to be tempted to do anything inappropriate in exchange for a bribe. This is another way we protect our guests’ privacy.”
Mark spread his thin arms. “But I didn’t do anything inappropriate.” His voice rose several octaves.
Leticia didn’t bat an eye. “You violated personnel policies. Policies you acknowledged receiving and understanding. Therefore, your actions were very inappropriate.”
Inappropriate in every way. And Alexis had to admit to Laura Colton—her friend, direct supervisor and co-owner of Mariposa—the mistake she’d made in hiring Mark.
Alexis’s skin burned at the unpleasant memory. “We also know this wasn’t a one-time mistake or oversight. I spoke with several of the guests who’d been assigned to you.” She pressed her palm on top of the documents that stood in a tidy stack in front of her. “They all signed these statements, attesting they’d paid you several so-called service fees for event tickets and restaurant reservations you’d made for them.”
Mark interrupted. “They gave me those tips to thank me for my trouble. Some of those tickets and stuff weren’t easy to get, you know.”
Alexis’s face burned with anger at his continued lies. “Every one of their statements makes it clear you told them they had to pay you a service fee.”
“Alexis is right.” Leticia gestured toward her. “But even if your clients had offered you a gratuity of their own will, you were required according to our employee handbook to decline the gift. Your response should have been some version of, ‘Thank you, but the resort’s policy prohibits me from accepting gifts.’”
Alexis was grateful for Leticia’s support and her further clarification of Mariposa’s policy, but she sensed Mark wasn’t ready to admit his guilt.
He divided his scowl between her and Leticia. “But I’m still on probation.”
“All the more reason to expect you to know and respect the rules.” Leticia shifted on her chair to face Mark. “If you’re willing to so blatantly disregard the rules at this stage of your employment, how much worse could your actions become?”
“That’s not a chance I’m prepared to take.” The possible answers to Leticia’s rhetorical question could cause Alexis’s head to explode. “Mark, your services are no longer needed. You can pack your belongings. Security will escort you out.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re firing me?”
Alexis’s eyes never wavered. “That’s right.” Her words dropped into the thick silence.
Her sense of failure was complete. She’d hired someone who’d repeatedly flouted Mariposa’s employee policies.
Alexis’s eyes drifted toward the view outside the room’s floor-to-ceiling tinted windows. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The resort’s event manager was getting ready to retire. Alexis had applied for the position. It would be a promotion, which she believed she was capable of and ready for. But after this experience, would Laura, Adam and Joshua agree? Would they ever trust her judgment again?
“It was one mistake.” Mark’s lips tightened.
