Danger in a Red Dress Read Free

that’s enough,” Mr. Burkhart said. “During my visits, Miss Grey showed herself to be a nurse of upright character. She did not sleep with your father.”
    “Are you kidding?” Jeff gestured wildly at Hannah. “Look at her, sitting there with her innocent expression and a body that won’t end, and fifty thousand dollars of our money. You can’t tell me she didn’t do the old man to death.”
    A cold anger sprang from deep inside of Hannah.
    “Jeff.” Donald Jr. had himself under control again. “Shut up. We’ll fight the will. The old man was obviously insane.”
    At the insult to Mr. Dresser, Hannah’s anger grew, crawling along her nerves, encasing them in ice.
    “You heard Burkhart. You heard about the screening of Dad’s mental health. Do you really think Burkhart didn’t close all the loopholes?” Jeff gestured at Mr. Burkhart with the same vigor he’d used on Hannah. “This little slut managed to screw the old guy stupid, and now she’s laughing at us.” He turned on Hannah again. “Didn’t you? Didn’t you screw him stupid?”
    Under his insulting, denigrating assault, Hannah’s discipline shattered. “Mr. Dresser was never stupid.” She swept the family with a scornful gaze, then returned her attention to Jeff. “I took care of his . . . needs. I met his . . . requirements. I was his . . . friend . . . when he needed one. Make of that what you will.” She knew exactly what they would make of that.
    Mr. Burkhart used his fingers to cut his own throat, to tell her to shut up.
    She would not. What difference did it make if she lost the inheritance before she had it? She was in a glorious rage, slapping the smarmy Jeff down with every word, letting Donald Jr. and Cynthia know the father they’d neglected had been alive and in need of attention.
    She stood up and smiled coldly. “When you think about it, fifty thousand for my services is cheap. I kept Mr. Dresser busy so the rest of you could enjoy your last days of reckless indulgence. I hope you take benefit from your employment at Dresser Insurance. Working for your living should be an interesting experience for you all.” With a grand sense of satisfaction, she opened the door and swept from the conference room.
    “Come back here,” Jeff yelled. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me!”
    She walked steadily down the corridor.
    Behind her, Jeff continued to shout.
    The rest of the family picked up the volume.
    Hannah walked on, her gaze fixed on the elevator at the end of the hall.
    Putting her hand in her pocket, she found the envelope Jeff Dresser had given her earlier. The bonus the Dresser family had given her in gratitude for her care of their deceased patriarch.
    She got into the elevator and punched the button for the first floor.
    Jeff stalked toward her, fists clenched.
    Before he could reach her, the doors closed in his face.
    She could almost hear Mr. Dresser ’s voice. The little asshole.
    She pulled the envelope out of her pocket. She broke the seal, looked at the check . . . and laughed on the edge of hysteria.
    “Really. You shouldn’t have,” she said aloud.
    The Dresser family’s gratitude came to twenty-five dollars.

TWO
    Five months later
    In the elegant entry of the Teignmouth Country Club, Carrick Manly stopped in front of the mirror. He looked himself over and smoothed his dark hair, ruffled by the spring breeze. He was six one, broad shouldered, and dressed in an understated black suit with a crisp white shirt and dull gold tie. When a man had a background like his, when he sported distinctive green eyes, he had to seem understated. He had to look conservative. He had to be careful .
    Satisfied with his appearance, he stepped into the doorway of the elegant smoking room.
    Collinson met him before he had crossed the threshold. “Good day, Mr. Manly, you’ll want your copy of the Wall Street Journal .” Hushed, reserved, and ageless, Collinson was the perfect majordomo for the exclusive men’s