Roses in Moonlight - By Lynn Kurland Page 0,136

sitting several seats away from the aisle where she was currently standing. Obviously they’d been watching the rehearsal as honored guests.

“Um, Derrick?”

“What?”

“It just got worse.”

“How’s that, love?”

She pointed. “See those people over there?”

He looked, then froze. “Tell me they aren’t who I think they are.”

“Oh, they are,” she said. She had to take a deep breath. “Those are my parents.”

He swore.

She was fairly sure she had, too.

Chapter 28

Derrick cursed, thoroughly and at length. He was actually quite happy to have a live mic taped to his cheek, because that made interrogating possible miscreants all that much easier.

“All right,” he breathed, “which one of you saw Samantha’s parents and didn’t bother to tell me?”

“Not I, said the fly,” Oliver intoned solemnly.

“Not I, said the fish,” Peter added cheerfully.

“I’m going to kill you both,” Derrick whispered furiously. “Slowly, painfully, and happily. And if you don’t think I’m going to, think again.”

“We’re keeping an eye on the thugs backstage,” Oliver said. “What else do you want from us?”

Derrick supposed it was better not to say. He thanked them briskly, then turned to the most immediate of the problems facing him presently. That would be Edmund Cooke himself, who was looking as if he’d just seen a ghost. His mouth was working, but only babbling sounds of misery came out.

“Edmund,” Derrick said pleasantly. “It’s been a bit, hasn’t it?”

“Derrick Cameron,” Edmund managed finally. “What are you doing here?”

Derrick pulled Samantha behind him, just in case, then looked at the man who had ruined his life. “Oh, a bit of this and that.”

Edmund licked his lips nervously. “I heard you have a job hunting down little vintage knickknacks.”

“Something like that.”

“Why are you here, then?” Edmund said with a sick attempt at a smile. “It isn’t as though I have any, is it? Vintage things, that is. Or anything of value, really—”

“You damn well do!” shrieked a voice from the darkness.

Derrick considered stepping in, then decided the smartest thing he could do was step back and let Lydia have at her husband. At least that way he would see for whom the jewel thieves were working, if they were actually working for someone and not operating on their own.

Only Lydia didn’t leap for her husband, she leapt for Samantha.

“Give me your bag!” she screamed.

A knife flashed in the semidark.

Derrick reached out to disarm Lydia only to have her flinch a little, as if something had hit her in the back. She looked at him, made a feeble stab with the blade, then her eyes rolled back in her head. He caught her wrist to keep the knife away from his chest, then caught the rest of her before she collapsed. He carefully laid Lydia on the ground and made a production of putting the knife well to the side of her.

He also managed to remove the very tiny dart with approximately five minutes of downtime out of her flesh and disentangle it from her sweater before Edmund stumbled over.

Derrick stood up, then put his hand behind his back. He felt Samantha carefully take the dart out of his hand. He assumed she would stick it in something that didn’t include either her flesh or his. He looked at Edmund who was hovering over his wife, but not reaching down to see if she was well.

“She fainted,” Derrick suggested.

“Is she still breathing?” Edmund asked, sounding as if he very much hoped she wasn’t.

Derrick squatted down and felt for her pulse, which was strong and steady. He took the knife, rose, and handed it to Edmund. “I think there are enough witnesses who will testify that she was holding this. You might want to find a place to keep it safe.”

“She’s crazy,” Edmund stated.

Derrick wasn’t about to pass judgment, but he was happy to get rid of the knife. He also did the bobbies the favor of taping Lydia’s wrists together with the duct tape Samantha handed him. He put Lydia into one of the seats, then taped her there as well. No sense in leaving her free to do more damage. Then he turned back to his business with Edmund.

He pulled out of his pocket the clear bag of gems that belonged to the man in front of him. He watched, mildly interested, to see what Edmund’s reaction would be. He’d been turning over a suspicion or two during the trip from London, but he hadn’t cared enough to even give voice to them.

Edmund took the bag, then his mouth fell open.

“How—”

“Your wife sewed them into Miss

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