174A/N: Thanks for the reviews, folks! You all have Smithy to thank for the re-posting of this story and to answer her question about romance, yes, there will be romance and it will be F/N. Sorry I forgot to mention that. Also, F,N,B are 26 while Joe is 25. This story fits into the universe created in my story "Past and Present Danger." But you don't have to read that story to understand this one.
Final note: I plan on posting one chapter every day (life permitting.) :) I'll try to forewarn you if there will be a delay in posting.
Chapter 2
With the hotel door safely locked behind him, he hurried to his suitcase, withdrew the gun from his shorts and shoved it deep beneath his clothes. It would stay there until tonight when he could get rid of it.
A key sounded in the door and he spun around. His wife entered with a smile and a glow. He ran a hand over his hair and said, "So, how was the facial?"
"To die for!" she answered with a radiant smile and turned her freshly scrubbed face side to side to show off the results. "Do I look younger?"
He embraced her as they both laughed. What a pity she had no clue that he wasn't laughing at her joke. No, for him seven years of worrying had finally come to an end. He was laughing at the irony of founding Gwen here, at the hotel, when he'd least expected it. For six years he'd secretly searched for her. He'd been on the verge of giving up and then, suddenly, there she was in the lobby on the arm of one of the richest men in the fashion industry. Sure, he hadn't been completely certain at first that it was indeed his Gwen. She'd changed herself, had enhancements, but he'd seen past all that. Yes, it was his Gwenie and lucky for him he'd decided at the last minute to mail the gun to the hotel, have it waiting – just in case.
An involuntary snort of laughter escaped his lips before he could stifle it. His wife looked up in surprise and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"You're in a good mood," she observed warily wondering why.
"I am." He flashed his most charming smile and nuzzled her neck thereby cutting off any further conversation.
Now onto part two, he thought as his wife gave him a suspicious look, but kissed him all the same.
Thrilled by his good fortune, he kissed his wife back .. hard, perhaps a little too hard. His good fortune had given him a shot of adrenaline.
He remembered Gwen's words, 'I've never told anyone.'
Thanks for letting me know he thought and kissed his wife more gently.
# # # #
Hotel security had cordoned off the Airedale's room by the time Nancy, Bess, and the Hardy brothers arrived. A tall, burly security guard with bushy brown hair stand watch outside the room.
"Oh no," Bess whispered as she and her friends approached. "It is the Airedales' room."
The door was ajar and muffled voices could be heard inside.
The tall guard held up a hand and stopped the group. "No one's allowed in this area. We need to keep the hall clear for the medical team and police."
"I'm Bess Marvin. I'm an employee of Mr. Airedale."
Frank stepped forward, even at six-one, he had to tip his head slightly to meet the guard's glare. "I'm Frank Hardy. My brother and I, along with Miss Drew here," he pointed at each person, "are also employees of Mr. Airedale's. We've been hired as security guards, but we're also detectives. Mr. Airedale may require our services."
The guard gave the group a smirk. They were all too young for his liking, mid-twenties at best. Although, at thirty-five, he wasn't exactly old himself.
"Sorry, hotel management's instructions," he said firmly. "I have to ask all of you to leave." He pointed toward the elevator they had recently exited.
Frank gestured to the others that they should comply with the guard's request and the group walked away, very slowly, which did nothing to endear them to the guard.
Thinking perhaps a heart attack was the cause of death, Joe said, "How old was Mrs. Airedale?"
He, Frank and Nancy had not met the Airedales yet. Tonight at dinner would have been their first meeting.
"Young," Bess answered, "Thirty, I think."
"So, probably not a heart attack," Joe said voicing his thoughts.
Frank asked, "How old's Mr. Airedale?"
They group was now a comfortable distance from the room and guard and therefore came to a stop.
Bess frowned. "Um, mid-fifties I'd say."
"Young wife, older man," Frank mussed. "How long have .. er, had they been married?"
"Not long. Maybe five years." Bess glanced back at the guard and wondered what was happening inside the room.
Suddenly, an older gentleman burst from the room. He pointed a finger at the guard and practically growled, "I demand to see my Personal Assistant this minute." Then he spotted Bess. "Bess?"
Bess grabbed Nancy by the arm and hurried to her employer. "I got here as soon as I heard, Mr. Airedale."
Frank and Joe followed at a respectable distance, the thought being that it was best not to overwhelm Mr. Airedale at this tragic time.
Bess began to introduce her friend, "Mr. Airedale this is Nan —"
Mr. Airedale shook his head and hands. "Later, later. Get Melinda for me. I need her here now. You, too, Bess. What I mean is, I want both of you here as soon as possible."
"Of course, Mr. Airedale. Right away," Bess said.
Nancy studied Lance Airedale for a brief second. Strands of gray threaded his dark hair. Lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and cupped his mouth. However, like so many older men, the gray and the lines added a distinguished touch to Mr. Airedale's still handsome face, a face now marred by grief.
And Nancy felt the grief was real. This wasn't a performance.
"Dear God," Lance Airedale moaned. His eyes met Nancy's and it seemed as if he were begging her to save him, to save him from this horrible nightmare that had so unexpectedly engulfed him.
"Go," he said and waved Bess and Nancy away. "Hurry. Please, hurry."
"Yes, Mr. Airedale." Bess grabbed Nancy by the arm again and they hurried to Frank and Joe.
The group merged and walked to the elevators.
"Should I call Melinda or should we go to her room?" Bess asked her friends.
"Let's go to her room," Nancy said. "News like this should be told in person."
The group stood in front of the elevator.
Frank said, "How about you girls find Melinda and meet with Mr. Airedale. Joe and I will do a quick sweep of the hotel. We can all meet up later."
"Good idea," Nancy said. "We all have cell phones, so we can keep in touch."
Everyone nodded agreement.
The elevator doors opened and out stepped a tall, leggy woman with long jet-black hair. Small black eyes set off flawless, porcelain skin. She was attractive in an unconventional way and her tight blue dress showcased her slender frame.
"Melinda," Bess cried. "I was —"
Melinda Smith held up a manicured hand. "I just heard. I'm on my way to Mr. Airedale."
Frank and Joe parted and the woman passed between them. Joe's brow creased quizzically as he watched her walk. Her long strides revealed a previous life as a model, but at thirty-eight, Melinda Smith was far too old for the runway. Ten years ago she had transitioned to design consultant and then personal assistant, jobs she knew had a much longer lifespan than model.
Bess followed a step behind Melinda.
Frank touched Nancy's arm. "Joe and I are going to take off."
Joe grabbed an elevator door and held it open.
Frank whispered to Nancy, "Let's meet up in about an hour or hour and a half. Okay?"
"Yes, perfect," Nancy said.
The brothers disappeared into the elevator and Nancy followed Bess and the enigmatic Melinda to Mr. Airedale's room.