Two down - By Nero Blanc Page 0,9

crowd lining the dance floor seemed to warrant. He took his eyes from Belle and a rather cumbrous and sweaty partner to find Jamaica Nevisson beside him.

“Watch out, boy, this lady’s big trouble for single guys.”

Tom materialized at her back. Close up, they looked larger than life. Rosco had a sense of something like electrical energy emanating from their bodies; his reaction was to inch forward as if these two people had created their own magnetic field.

“Let me guess,” Pepper’s voice boomed out. “Navigational aids?”

“What?” Rosco’s mind was blank.

“No, no, wait . . . You look like a guy who sees more action than someone who owns a manufacturing company . . . Yacht Club . . . Yacht Club . . . Don’t give me any hints; I’m good at this . . . Wait, I’ve got it! . . . You’re a member of the America’s Cup team, right?”

Rosco almost turned around to see if Pepper was addressing a person other than himself, but Tom’s powerful gaze held him—as did the hearty smile, the perfect white teeth, the knot in the formal tie that Rosco couldn’t have replicated in a hundred years. No doubt about it, Tom Pepper was a charismatic guy. “I’m not a sailor, sir—and never will be. My name’s Rosco Polycrates . . . I’m a private investigator.”

Tom’s infectious laughter pealed forth again. “A private eye! What do you know! . . . And with a name like Rosco! I like it . . . Strong product recognition . . . That’s good . . . That’s good . . . Marketing is everything these days . . . a private eye . . .”

Then he turned quietly earnest. “Forget the ‘sir’ business, Rosco. I’m Tom, and this is my wife’s longtime friend Jamaica Nevisson. The two gals were actresses together, if you can believe it . . . That’s before I snagged my little Genie away from the boards.” Tom looked at Jamaica with an expression Rosco could only interpret as that of a benevolent relative ignoring a youthful indiscretion.

“I saw your photo in The Globe,” Rosco stammered, and immediately regretted the remark. When Tom’s face clouded in anger, Rosco felt decidedly worse.

“Ahhh, then you’ve seen quite a bit of me.” Jamaica drew out the words; although her expression had turned stony, her tone was disturbingly flirtatious.

“Well, it was in the supermarket . . . I only saw the cover. I didn’t open up the magazine.”

“You must be the only man in America who didn’t.” A tight smile played across Jamaica’s wide lips.

“It was an outrageous invasion of privacy,” Tom fumed. His healthy pink skin had turned a mottled red. “Jamaica’s been hounded by that lunatic photographer for years. Coming out here was the only way she could lose him.”

Jamaica kept her sultry gaze on Rosco. “Maybe I should get myself a private dick . . . What do you think, Tom? Get rid of that damned Flack once and for all?”

But Pepper ignored the question, giving Rosco the impression that the investor already had a plan for dealing with Jamaica’s pesky paparazzo—a plan, Rosco imagined, involving a phalanx of highly paid lawyers. “So, Rosco, I take it you and I are the only men here who aren’t mad for water sports?”

“I’m happier on dry land.” Rosco started to insert another deferential “sir,” but stopped himself in time.

“Put ’er there, pardner! I can’t put my feet on anything that rocks or rolls or pitches or tosses, without worrying I’ll lose my lunch . . . I leave nautical pursuits to the distaff side.”

“I still wish you’d agree to come to Nantucket with Genie and me tomorrow, Tom,” Jamaica cooed, although her green eyes remained fastened to Rosco. “It would be such fun!”

“Not for me, it wouldn’t! . . . So, Rosco, how does a landlubber like you find yourself at a shindig like this? Or are you here on business?”

Tom’s broad wink made Rosco relax, and he began to explain his connection to Sara—and then to Belle—while Pepper nodded enthusiastic approval, concluding with a noisy “I like this guy!” that seemed loud enough for half the room to hear.

But before conversation could continue, Pepper and Jamaica were lured away with enthusiastic cries of “Tom! The mayor needs to talk with you about . . .” and “Miss Nevisson, may I introduce . . . ?” In parting, Jamaica gave Rosco’s arm a gentle but provocative squeeze. “Come for supper with your little lady sometime.