She was shimmying out of the tight parking space before the irony of repeating “This is not a date” to herself and at the same time singing along with a silly love song on the radio hit home. You are making a report to her and investigating her at the same time. Don’t forget, she scolded herself. This was a business dinner and a chance for her to further the investigation. Whether 82
the client/suspect liked chocolate was irrelevant. Tamara was not good-looking, her touch had not thrown Kip into a panic, and for all Kip knew she already had somebody in her life, like Diane Morales, in defiance of company policy. She could be a fraud, a cheat and a liar.
There, she thought, that was better. Cheat and liar.
With a firm grip on her nerves she turned into the marina parking lot and was directed to Tamara’s berth. There was no sign of Tamara as she walked down the floating pier toward the lithe sailboat. The graceful vessel—20-24 footer she guessed—
gleamed with white paint, teak decking and sails wrapped in dark green. The polished brass of the porthole frames glinted like pure gold in the last of the autumn sunlight. The Emerald Petral was lovely.
Cheat and liar... The refrain was getting weaker.
“Ahoy, captain,” she called.
There was a muffled reply and then Tamara came up from below deck. A worn University of Washington sweatshirt and jeans accented her angular hips and shoulders. “I was just setting up the table downstairs, but the wind has died. Can you manage sitting up here if I switch on the deck heater?”
“I can handle it if it gets chilly, but the night air is perfect right now.” She let the Il Patisserie box dangle into her view.
“Dessert,” she said.
Tamara smiled at her with a relaxed blink. “I hope there’s some chocolate in that bag.”
Kip’s heart went thump-thump-thump, stupid heart, no brains at all, unreliable, foolish thing. Her voice sounded unnaturally high as she said, “Absolutely.”
“Good,” Tamara said as she disappeared down the hatch.
“The harbor restaurant only had coconut-lemon something. I’m sure it’s quite good, but it’s not chocolate.”
Kip set down what she was carrying. She attributed the slight sense of vertigo she felt to the mild drift of the boat against its moorings. Cheat and liar... Nope, that wasn’t working at all now.
She felt a flutter of panic as she called down, “Can I help?”
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Tamara handed up a picnic hamper emblazoned with the port’s coat of arms. “Would you like wine?”
“I really don’t drink,” Kip said. She’d never acquired a taste for it, and her father’s problems had only made her more of a teetotaler.
“I should drink less than I do. Can I interest you in some hot cranberry juice?”
Kip wrinkled her nose. “That sounds a little weird, but I’m willing.”
Tamara looked over her shoulder from the steps. “Trust me.”
She disappeared into the galley.
I do trust her. Kip froze as the unbidden thought sank in. She knew she had to fight it. She knew she shouldn’t trust anyone she was investigating. She knew better.
Feeling on autopilot, Kip set out the dinner—it looked like chilled salmon filets in a light orange sauce. When she sniffed the contents of a bowl of linguini salad her stomach did a little dance.
Seed rolls and butter were at the bottom of the box, but after she lifted them out she found a tray of antipasto. Mortadella, salami, tapenade... Mmm.
She heard Tamara emerge onto the deck. “This all smells delicious.” She warily accepted the steaming mug and cautiously sipped. Her eyes widened.
“Like it?” Tamara was warming her hands around her own mug. “I find it very refreshing and it chases away colds.”
Kip nodded and sipped the hot cranberry juice again. It was like a tart, sweet tea. “It is refreshing. And unusual. Thanks.”
Tamara pressed the deck heater’s ignition lighter and a soft glow suffused the table, followed by a wave of heat. “I hope the food is up to their usual high standards. I just told them to double the fresh catch order.”
She does this often, then. Kip felt a wave of disappointment, then mentally booted herself. This is not a date, you dope! “I was just hoping you wouldn’t think I was a pig if I helped you devour every ounce.”
“I am hoping you’ll be as devoted to enjoying the dinner as 84
you are to your work.” Tam’s tone matched the twinkle of good humor in her eyes.
Kip was glad the low light hid her blush. Stop flirting, she told herself and she turned her attention to the meal.
They made short work of the food while they bantered back and forth about sailing experiences and favorite meals. The salmon was obviously freshly caught and Kip’s tongue wanted to melt from the exquisite parmesan garlic sauce on the linguini salad. It had real Greek olives stirred into it. She’d forgotten how good they were. Her daily cuisine was boring, she realized.
Boring because she didn’t spend any time planning it. She made a mental note to put more energy into her menus in the future, then glumly erased it. Sure, she told herself. You’ll have time for that just after this case is over, and then you’ll get another case and you’ll be right back to eating out of boxes and buckets.
Tamara restacked the dishes and bowls in the hamper and Kip handed her one of the takeaway containers of Triple Sin cake.
“We really shouldn’t,” Tamara said. She peered at Kip’s slice.
“How come I get the smaller piece?”
Kip grinned—who knew that Tamara Sterling could pout?
“Big baby. Here.” She lifted the chocolate curl from her slice and put it on Tamara’s. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” Tam’s smile was open and for just a moment Kip saw a woman who could relax at the beach or set out for a day’s sailing just because the lake was beautiful. “You’ve been very kind. I was starving and in a lousy mood. This has been very relaxing.”
Kip tried to strike a light note. “It’s all part of the service.”
“No, it’s not.” Tamara looked at her seriously for a moment, then stared down at the cake. “I’m sure... You must have other places you’d rather be. People you’d rather be with. I appreciate your giving your time to me.”
Kip didn’t know what to say. She could hardly tell her boss’s boss’s boss she hadn’t dated anyone in months and months, nor would it sound right to say she lived for her work. “You’re welcome,” seemed the only correct answer.
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They were silent for a few minutes, savoring the cake. Finally, all the chocolate licked from her fork, Kip reluctantly reached for her paperwork.
Tamara sighed and got up to bring a deck lantern closer to the table, adding to the soft glow from the deck heater. “I suppose we should get down to business.”
Kip passed her a single sheet of paper. “These are officially the affected accounts and the amounts missing as of Monday.”
She went very still. “Six million nine. How?”
“It’s all being done in concurrence with pre-authorized transfers and the next one is Friday. We need to move fast because—”
“Because a lot of thieves leave town when they hit a major milestone. The perp could be aiming for seven million—but it could also be ten million.”
Kip nodded. “Our thief started small only two months ago, just after our last quarterly audit. In the last four weeks, the amounts have been larger. If I were them, I’d be alert for investigation and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. And I’d have already picked a day to leave anyway, whether it appeared anyone suspected me or not.”