Chapter 2: Panoply Hall

Saturday Afternoon, October 29th

“I think that’s it,” Elliot said, his car rounding the corner for the final stretch of the exclusive neighborhood. “My uncle once took us for a drive around here as kids to show us the ritzy homes.”

Graham nodded while he surveyed the 12-foot stone fence that appeared to block Mercedes’s mansion from the street. A 3-foot black iron fence also ran along the top of the stone portion. Only brief glimpses of a large mansion peeked through the mature trees lining the other side of the fence.

Neither forced guest felt happy about the situation or their arrival time. The Halloween party didn’t even begin until seven o’clock, yet Kayla had insisted they arrive at 4:30. Hell, Percy declared he wouldn’t show up until 8:00 or 8:30 at the earliest.

“That fence provides an opening round of security, but also could breed overconfidence,” Graham commented, turning away from the peering past Elliot to look out the front windshield. “How big is the property?

“No clue, but it looks huge,” Elliot added unnecessarily as the dead-end road kept on going for nearly as far as the eye could see. Yet, he slowed down as his car approached a black iron gate.

“Did you see that?” the crime hobbyist asked, shifting to look over his shoulder. When Elliot asked what he meant, Graham gestured to a spot across the street from the stone wall they passed. “A man. He’s stationed to monitor the fence. Ah, another one is further down the road.”

“Huh? None of those houses face this side of the street,” Elliot noted, realizing that only the rear of the large homes could be seen.

“Yes, it creates an isolated setting on this side. Perhaps we can park near that man further up the road,” Graham suggested.

“No can do. The instructions Kayla passed along said that we had to check in at the gate first. Then, I guess a valet will park our car,” Elliot relayed, double-checking the piece of notepaper.

Coming to a slow halt, Elliot turned halfway into the short driveway in front of the gate, where an expensive sedan sat idling while its owner stood beside it. Both teens sized up the slightly disheveled man as he chatted with a security guard. Two additional guards exited a guardhouse next to the gate. With light-brown hair and a few pounds overweight, Elliot roughly estimated his age at mid-forties.

“Shhh, let’s see what we can hear,” the driver said, rolling down his window while Graham did the same on his side.

“Yes, I understand the threat. However, this feels like overkill,” the man complained, casually tossing a hand out before he opened the door to pop open the sedan’s trunk. “Fleeman no longer works for the FBI, you know.”

“We’re following Mr. Raddatz’s orders, Mr. Stithers,” the lead guard stated, adding a few lines that the teens couldn’t hear.

While he did that, one of the extra guards peered inside the car’s backseat with a flashlight. Elliot started to agree with the other driver about the enhanced security, as it wasn’t even dusk yet, until he noticed the device the other guard carried.

“What is he…”

“Interesting,” Graham commented, watching as the guard used a lighted mirror at the end of a long pole to search the sedan’s undercarriage. The other guard moved from shining his flashlight in the backseat to doing the same in the open trunk. “We’re up to five guards already, and we haven’t entered the grounds or seen the three other sides of the wall.”

“Mr. Raddatz isn’t taking this Seeper threat lightly. I guess that means Mercedes might cut us some slack,” Elliot said before muttering. “Not that we’re detectives or anything.”

"The increased security for tonight might be a reason for the letter. I doubt Raddatz & Padfield have enough security personnel to cover their headquarters and the mansion tonight. Thus, unfamiliar guards have been added for this occasion. The Seeper could be one of them. It's a smart way to gain access," Graham stated, sounding like the confident version that people rarely saw.

Elliot raised a finger to listen as the guard finished with the man ahead of them.

“Alright, you have permission to pull inside, Mr. Stithers. Enjoy the party.”

“I wonder who Stithers is?” Elliot questioned out loud.

“He’s an account for Raddatz & Padfield. Been with the company for over twenty years,” Graham disclosed, surprising his classmate. “I checked all the publicly known information about the company this morning. The Fleeman he referred to was a former FBI agent who joined the company three years ago to replace the soon-to-be-retired head of security. However, Fleeman seemed fairly young to be retiring from the FBI already. I assume there is a story behind that decision.”

“Oh. Well, that was a good idea,” Elliot responded, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of the idea.

Both teenagers noticed the guards move to stand behind Mr. Stithers’ sedan to block their movement as the large black gates opened. Only after they began to close again did the lead guard walk over toward the driver’s side door. He gestured for them to exit the vehicle while informing the driver to turn it off.

“Better roll them up,” Elliot said, pressing the button to raise his window before he turned off the car. Stepping out, he pulled the trunk-release lever.

“Invitations?” the lead guard inquired, holding out his hand. Once he heard they didn’t have any physical invitations, the guard raised a tablet. “Names?”

“Elliot Keever and Graham Higbee,” the former offered, watching as the two other men repeated the exact search they’d witnessed.

“Keever and Higbee?” the man repeated, frowning as he scrolled the screen. “I’m not finding either name on the guest list.”

“We’re late additions. Mercedes added us last night,” the more sociable eighteen-year-old offered.

“Of course she did,” the guard grumbled. Then, he detached a walkie-talkie from his belt. “Mr. Fleeman, this is Bowers at the main gate. I have two late additions to the guest list by Miss Raddatz. Mr. Fleeman, do you copy?”

Bowers waited ten seconds before attempting to reach his superior.

“That damn interference is acting up again,” the guard with the long, poled mirror complained.

“It’s going to be a pain in the ass tonight,” the flashlight-wielding guard added.

“Quiet!” Bowers hissed, making a third attempt at contact.

“Excuse me. Did your interference start today?” Graham queried.

“Nah, we’ve been getting radio static for nearly two months,” the mirror guard replied. “Nothing we do seems to fix it.”

“More like six weeks,” the flashlight guard clarified. Both men zipped their lips after a pair of finger points from Bowers.

“Mullen, this is Bowers. Do you have eyes on Fleeman?”

The four others heard a response that the security head was inside the mansion, attending to a guest. Sighing, Bowers gestured for Elliot and Graham to follow him to the gatehouse. While they did, he told them to produce some identification. Before they could comply, he stepped a few feet inside and lifted a phone.

Glancing inside, Elliot caught a glimpse of yet another guard monitoring several screens filled with images from the road, the stone wall in front, and the gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Graham had noticed the setup too.

“Wilton? Yes, this is Bowers at the front gate. I can’t reach Fleeman, but I have two late additions to the guest list. No, they don’t have invitations. However, they said that Miss Raddatz added them late last night. Yes, if she could come down here for confirmation that–Okay,” Bowers replied to the unheard response. “Somebody will be here shortly to confirm you're okay.”

While Bowers checked their driver’s licenses, the two problematic guests learned that the other two guards were named Chuck and Tim after debating whether to move Elliot’s car yet. Eventually, they were told to wait for now.

Seven awkward minutes passed by Graham’s count until they heard the approaching footsteps on the curved driveway. Although he’d never met the handsome man with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes before, the meticulous researcher knew him to be months shy of forty. A respected businessman in River Ripple, Malachi Raddatz also had a notorious reputation for philandering.

“Are these the boys my impulsive daughter invited without informing me?” Mal challenged, causing both teens to tense.

Frozen under his studious gaze, they both found they couldn’t speak. Some part of their brains heard Bowers rattle off their names while handing over their IDs to the CEO of Raddatz & Padfield. As he read their names and addresses, Mal’s eyes flicked up and down each young man. Then, returning the licenses to Bowers, the handsome rogue shifted his attention to Elliot.

"You, I could possibly see as interesting to my daughter," Mal speculated before shifting to Graham. "And I assume you're the person who supplied details about the threat that I wished my daughter to be ignorant of. Hell of a way to force a last-minute invite."

“Um, yes, that would, um, be me,” Graham stammered.

“Don’t get any ideas, or listen to Mercedes’s crazier notions. As you can see for yourself, my security team has the threat covered,” Malachi proclaimed.

“You’re wrong!” Elliot blurted out. “I mean, we didn’t force our way into attending. Actually, neither of us wants to be here. Your daughter is the one who forced us to come.”

“Yes, that sounds like Sunshine,” Mal responded, chuckling. Next, the ever-knowing father added, “You’re Evie Keever’s son, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am. Do you know my mom?”

“Never had the pleasure yet,” the well-known womanizer replied, grinning mischievously. “Of course, I know her face from all the ads around town. It’s hard to forget one so striking.”

“She does have a lot of them, but it’s what realtors do,” Elliot admitted, holding in his frown. While he knew his parents had a happy marriage, the teen grew concerned when he saw the predatory grin form. He'd better not meet Mom ever. The stories about his seductions are wild. And he’s still married!

“However, I mostly know your name from Kayla,” Mal revealed, nodding at Bowers.

The head of the gatehouse immediately ordered Chuck to move Elliot’s car.

“Kayla has mentioned me?”

“If I said once or twice, I’d be grossly underestimating. Yes, I’ve heard of her neighbor,” Mal remarked. “Wait, the boys need to grab their things, don’t they?”

Elliot swiftly raced over to his car to grab their two bags, which contained their party costumes. Returning to the gatehouse, he and Graham used it as a pass-through to follow Mr. Raddatz up the curved driveway. As they walked, the threatened businessman warned them again not to follow his daughter’s commands if it involved the Seeper.

“She’s too headstrong for her own good. Now, most of her clique has arrived, but they’ll be getting ready for tonight. In the meantime, I’ll show you to a room where you can change if…Ah, excellent,” Mal sounded, breaking off upon spotting a person exiting a side door.

Elliot’s eyes widened slightly, while Graham somehow froze as he kept on walking, at the young woman. Even from a distance, Elliot noticed her sharp blue eyes. Continuing his examination, the teen noted a dark brown bob that fell to her neck before his gaze moved to her ample bosom. With the latter’s brain locked, the former guessed she might be a recent college graduate. Professionally dressed for a Saturday, she wore a taut light blue blouse and a tan pencil skirt. The hypnotic click-clacking of her high heels even appeared to mesmerize Mal Raddatz.

“Fortunate timing, Miss Bishop,” Mal greeted before noticing her expression. “What’s the matter?”

“Mr. Eike’s…assistant…has been flagged during her background check. Mr. Fleeman would like a word with you about it,” the brunette divulged.

“Not a particularly surprising development,” Mal replied, shaking his head while smirking. “The longer you’re with us, Miss Bishop, the more you’ll come to understand that Yanis Eike’s mistresses—whoops, I mean assistants—usually arrive with colorful backgrounds. How he’s survived for this long with those in-laws of his is a remarkable feat.”

“Yes, Ms. Horne already warned me about his X-ray eyes.”

“Boys, this is Holland Bishop, my personal assistant. Miss Bishop, this is Elliot Keever and Graham Higbee. They are the two last-minute additions that Mercedes invited last night,” Mal relayed. “And I doubt they are the last.”

“Yes, I believe the younger Mr. Raddatz may have dangled party invitations for phone numbers last night at the football game,” Holland revealed.

“Dammit, can’t Macon learn to be smooth? I knew better than to act desperate at his age,” the embarrassed father grumbled. “If you don’t mind, could you give these two a short tour and show them to a room? Just like you, they’ll need to change into their costumes soon.”

“I’ll change once I’m finished with my duties, sir,” the buxom brunette replied with a dash of sass. Apparently, her employer approved of the attitude, judging by his wolfish expression.

“I can’t wait to see what you selected, my dear,” Mal remarked, then nodded at the teens.

Waiting a moment while her employer walked away, Holland turned to offer a hand to each newcomer. After confirming she’d heard their names correctly, the personal assistant clapped her hands as their tour began.

“Is this your first visit to Panoply Hall? It is! Well, let us head to a room to drop off your bags before we get too far into it.” Turning on a dime, Miss Bishop headed for the side door she’d exited from earlier.

Prying his focus off the PA’s toned ass that swayed underneath the tight skirt, Elliot added a stiff elbow into Graham, who appeared even more mesmerized by the sight. At least Percy isn’t here to embarrass us both. His preference for being fashionably late cost him the chance to hit on this beauty.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Elliot hurried ahead once he realized that Miss Bishop had reached the door. Turning halfway around, he motioned for Graham to speed up his pace as well. The side door led into a large mudroom that separated a five-car garage from the main mansion, surprising the teens because they hadn’t seen any garage doors.

“They’re on the east side, beyond that hill you saw. The hill is actually an underground garage,” Miss Bishop explained. ‘If you take the drive around the other bend, it slopes down to the garage. The tennis courts are located above the garage.”

“What about the garage on the far west side, past the front door?” Elliot asked, having noticed the faraway structure before they entered the mansion. “It looked like there was activity on the second floor.”

“Aren’t you observant?” Miss Bishop chuckled. “Hmm, I wonder what else you have a nice eye for?”

Elliot nearly froze, much like Graham usually did, as the comment seemed almost suggestive. Fortunately, the young PA didn’t expect a response as she carried on talking.

"Yes, that's the garage and parking area used for guests. The security office is the beehive of activity that you noticed," Miss Bishop revealed, stopping at a small staircase about halfway down the long mudroom. Leading them up the four steps, she pushed open a door that led into another long hallway and the proper mansion itself. "Watch your step."

Despite the warning, Graham tripped because he was too busy staring in awe at her skirt-covered tush.

“Are you okay, dear? Good. Be more careful in the future. This place is full of different half-levels,” the temporary tour guide revealed. “Construction of Panoply Hall was completed in 1907, with the main building consisting of thirty-five rooms.”

“Thirty-five rooms!” Elliot exclaimed, while Graham shot him an astonished expression. The shy teen also mumbled that a thief would have plenty of space to hide.

“Yes, that includes a lounge, sitting room, study, ballroom, billiards room, conservatory, office, dining room, kitchen, and a two-story library on the first floor. Oddly enough, I’m not sure if the foyer, cloak room, or pantry is the final counted room on this floor. I’d go with the pantry, since it’s the same size as my childhood bedroom,” Miss Bishop suggested, laughing. That sweet sound had claimed Elliot’s heart minutes into the tour.

“No bedrooms?” the smitten teen quipped.

“Oh, do those interest you, Mr. Keever? Are you handy inside them?” the PA challenged, sassily. “There are eighteen bedrooms in the main house. Sixteen are on the second floor, with the remaining two in the attic. There is also a reading area in the attic that…Honestly, I don’t know if that’s counted as a room either.”

After Miss Bishop explained that they probably couldn’t enter most of the rooms because of the visiting guests, they immediately found two young women and a slightly older man inside the library. Holland gave a brief greeting but didn’t introduce the teens to the trio. After turning around, the assistant explained that they were Mr. Raddatz’s attorney and paralegals.

“We already had nearly a full house, even before…Well, never mind.”

“We’re aware of the threatening letter, Miss Bishop,” Elliot revealed, seeking to show off for the gorgeous woman.

“Do you? My, that makes you special, doesn’t it?” the busty brunette asked rhetorically and teasingly.

However, Elliot saw another brief expression gloss over her face before she smiled. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like intrigue or suspicion. A question entered his mind, but he left it unsaid when an irate, muffled voice met them in the hallway.

“Ah, that’s the study, and Mr. Zhong,” Miss Bishop disclosed, gesturing at the closed door to the corner room next to the library. “His family has owned a wholesale jewelry company for nearly a century. They are longtime business partners of Raddatz & Padfield. Hmm, let’s cut through here. Whoops! Sorry!”

Despite the shocking scene, Elliot shot a hand out to grab Graham before he fainted. Alarmed, Holland hurried to help keep the overwhelmed teen upright. Worried that he might eventually hit the floor, the assistant helped usher Graham back toward the hallway they had first entered. This time, she led them to the hallway’s right, which opened into an expansive dining room.

“Is your blood sugar low? Are you feeling ill?” the concerned brunette rattled off before hurrying over a door on the north side of the room. “Dorita! Do you have a snack for Mercedes’s friend? He nearly fainted.”

This scenario was how Elliot and Graham met the family chef. A plump, excitable woman, Dorita fussed over Graham before nearly squealing in joy at learning Elliot’s identity.

“Kayla just thinks the world of you!” Dorita revealed, hugging Elliot before kissing both of his cheeks. “I never speak a bad word about Mercedes’s friends; I save that for the mister’s and missus’s friends, but I always knew something wasn’t right with that Haylee. She should be tarred and feathered for what she did to you.”

“Wait, what now?” Holland questioned, performing a double-take while studying Elliot.

“Uh, I think we’re good. I mean, I think Graham’s good. He was just a bit overwhelmed by what he saw,” Elliot stated, attempting to change the subject at his classmate’s expense.

“What did you see?” Dorita asked, despite her suspicions. One couldn’t help but have suspicions, given the events that often happened around the mansion.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Holland admitted, giggling. “I wanted to cut through the lounge, but walked in on a batch of the shopgirls changing into their costumes.”

Attempting to breathe at the memory of six or seven partially or fully undressed young women, Graham swallowed hard. Seeking to help, Elliot handed him the glass of water that the chef had brought.

“Oh, my, is that all?” Dorita laughed. Standing up now that she understood what had happened, she left to return to party prep with a final word. “Just a warning: Prepare to see much worse if you stay the night.”

“What?” Graham reacted, finally speaking a single word.

“It’s not quite as…”

“You’re too new to know better!” Dorita added, sticking her head back out the door before vanishing.

“Well, okay, she’s not too far off,” Holland admitted.

“Watch out for that Galasso!” the chef yelled from the kitchen.

“I’m not who he’s after!” Holland yelled back, then remembered her place and blushed.

“How long have you worked for Raddatz & Padfield?” Elliot asked, recalling the question that had been left unasked earlier.

“Hmm, let’s see. A little over three months,” Miss Bishop revealed. “It’s been an eye-opening job, to say the least. Now, are you well enough to continue the tour?”

Eager to move on from his semi-humiliating moment, Graham nodded.

Helping his classmate stand up, Elliot started to wish he’d been able to convince Diego to arrive early with them. Unfortunately, his best friend had already made plans to attend with much of the football team. Still, after Graham’s reaction to seeing likely the first naked women in his life, Elliot wondered if having Percy come along with them wouldn’t have been so bad.

With Miss Bishop planning to finish their tour of the front of Panoply Hall first, they cut back across the hallway and into the cathedral-ceiling foyer. Once again, the pair of teens observed Smith Stithers near the front door, pacing with his cell phone in front of the cloak room. His conversation ended abruptly when he spotted the young assistant with the two younger guests.

“Oh, hello, Holland. Is Malachi available yet?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m giving Mercedes’s friend a quick tour. However, when I last left Mr. Raddatz, he was heading over to meet with Mr. Fleeman. There is an issue with Mr. Eike’s assistant,” Miss Bishop explained before leading them past the accountant so that they could leave their bags in the cloakroom for now.

Checking over her shoulder once they’d left the same area, she whispered, “Apparently, he’s a genius with numbers. Unfortunately, he can also be a bit absent-minded and sloppy. Without those negative quirks, word is that he’d be a shoo-in for CFO someday.”

Sharing a look, Elliot and Graham nonverbally reminded each other to remember all these details later. While they shared the unspoken conversation, Miss Bishop stopped outside a pair of large, wooden sliding doors. Made by expert, long-dead woodworkers, the heavy, imposing doors barely let any sound through. Yet, Elliot and Graham watched as Holland leaned forward; the move sent her toned tush out in a flattering fashion.

Neither teen noticed the nosy personal assistant placing her ear against the point where the two doors met. Standing up straight again, the brunette slowly slid one of the doors open a few inches. An unfamiliar type of music filtered out from what they quickly learned to be the ballroom. Slowly, an offbeat rhythm started to ring a bell in Elliot’s brain. Next, he thought the music might sound European, or Southern European, based on films and TV shows he’d watched. Finally, Elliot muttered the word “Tango,” which made Holland nod and turn to face him.

Something about the situation felt off and like spying.

Peering past the peeking brunette, Elliot stepped close enough to accidentally brush his hip against Miss Bishop's pencil-clad behind. Inside the vast room, the teenager found only two individuals: A black-haired man in his mid-to-late thirties and an equally aged auburn-haired woman with medium-to-large breasts and a firm ass. Based on her physical characteristics, Elliot deduced that the woman was a relative of Mercedes.

Still studying the swaying, close contact of their bodies, Elliot paused as their lips neared, until Miss Bishop closed the sliding door again. With the display ended, Elliot glanced over at Graham, who wore a stunned expression. Mouthing “What?”, he got no response from his classmate and had to wait until Holland led them several steps down the hall.

“I told Dorita that I was right. That Galasso has his eyes on her,” Miss Bishop muttered, more to herself than the guests.

“Galasso? Why does that name sound familiar?” Elliot queried.

“Carlo Galasso is the heir to the Galasso Group, a consortium of several luxury watch companies located in Italy,” Graham supplied. “The alliance between Galasso and Raddatz & Padfield in 1949 helped both companies tremendously financially in the post-war period. European tabloids claim that Carlo is one of the top eligible bachelors on that continent. However, he prefers the company of married women instead. And it appears that we walked in on his latest conquest target.”

“Well, holy fucking shit!” Miss Bishop exclaimed before slapping her hand over her mouth. Blushing, she immediately apologized for the outburst. “You know things, don’t you? Well, you’re correct. However, his pursuit of Mrs. Raddatz isn’t new. Word around here is that he’s been after Petra for years without any luck. Oh, she takes lovers nearly as frequently as her husband, but she usually knows better than to mingle business with pleasure.”

“That was Mercedes’s mom?” Elliot questioned, glancing back down the hallway.

“Shhh,” Miss Bishop shushed, hearing the aforementioned wife’s husband in the next room.

The briefest of gestures led the pair of high school seniors toward an open door. Inside, they saw Mal Raddatz talking with a man who clearly looked like ex-military or law enforcement. Without much-needed guesswork, they both assumed he was Fleeman, the head of security. Despite being the boss, the CEO seemed to be the one reassuring the other man to accept the situation.

Further inside the billiards room, a short man with balding brown hair, speckled with gray, knocked several balls around on the pool table. Looking extremely bored, he occasionally glanced over toward the corner of the room. Risking two more steps, Elliot saw a leggy woman with long, straight black hair stretched across a leather couch. Wearing a sports bra and yoga pants, the woman’s slinky figure, consisting of medium-sized breasts and a toned ass that she raised a few times when the balding man looked her way, made one wonder if she might be a model.

Motioning for her tourist charges to follow, Miss Bishop apologized for every room seemingly having people inside, or for making them feel like spies or interlopers. The blushing PA also reminded them that she had mentioned a mansion full of guests.

“The man in there is Yanis Eike, a very successful investor, who helped Mr. Raddatz’s father fund a new line of diamonds nearly twenty-five years ago. Although married to a somewhat off-putting woman, who comes from an even more frightening family, Mr. Eike always has at least one mistress on his arm, if not one on each arm,” Miss Bishop explained. “Xelina Cedeno, his ‘assistant’, is allegedly a model of some sort that he’s acting as a benefactor for. Something in her past red-flagged during her background check.”

A quick stop in the sitting room at the rear, in the middle of the mansion, found it to be surprisingly empty. However, in the northwestern corner, they found a middle-aged woman enjoying a cup of tea in the conservatory. When she noticed the trio, her blue eyes lit up with a friendly welcome.

“Ah, Miss Bishop, join me,” the woman with long chestnut-brown hair offered, patting the spot on the lounge next to her. “Who are these two young men? Suitors of Mercedes?”

Holland introduced the two teens to Francesca Horne, a forty-three-year-old woman of means, who had known Malachi since her college days. With a closer inspection, Elliot became aware of the sitting woman’s hourglass figure. Very large breasts, a flat stomach, wide hips, and a curvy ass explained why she’d been proposed to three times. Ten minutes of conversation revealed a sexually experienced woman with no filter for her blunt words, and helped provide context for her recent third divorce.

“I’m certainly no gold digger, as I came from wealth. However, I’m also not a fool. While I married well, I divorced even better,” Francesca chuckled, patting Holland’s exposed thigh.

Graham looked ready to keel over, given Ms. Horne’s focus on the uncomfortable Miss Bishop’s skin. Although she smiled at the brushing of her thigh, Holland clearly wanted to move this conversation along.

“Friends of Mercedes, huh? No offense, young man, you must be a brain, or you’re packing a python. Mercedes tends to like her men with hard, ripped bodies,” the sexually liberated woman noted. Then, while Graham struggled to breathe, she moved her attention to Elliot. “Yes, you might have potential. Maybe with a lot of sweat, you can firm up that body. Perhaps we can go a round or two in the gym before I leave to test out your drive?”

Feeling somewhat slighted by the woman’s condescending manner, Elliot determined to meet her words with his own. He didn’t get forced to this party to be treated like a little boy.

“I’m curious about a matter. Did Mr. Raddatz never propose to you because you didn’t meet his standards, or did he decide not to buy what he could sample for free?”

“Elliot!” Miss Bishop exclaimed. Blushing yet again, she started to apologize for the teen’s impudence.

“Rude? I found his cheekiness rather refreshing,” Francesca admitted, removing her hand from Holland’s thigh to lean forward in the teen’s direction. “Oh, we could have fun, young man. It’s been some time since I dipped into your age range. Providing my unofficial goddaughter a hands-on demonstration feels delightfully wicked. In case you didn’t realize it already, I taught her father a few things that I know he still uses.”

“That doesn’t sound all that intriguing. I’m not interested in Mercedes. Her bitchiness is a turn-off.”

“Roar! Look at you, tiger. Have you met Mal yet? You might be what his Sunshine needs,” Francesca cackled. Then, becoming inquisitive about his feelings toward the young heiress, she asked what brought him here today.

Concerned about the tone and the chance the conversation might drag on, Miss Bishop tried to move it along by replying on his behalf.

“Kayla Deam? Oh, yes, I’ve met her many times,” Francesca recalled. “I found her cheeriness to be confusing for the longest time. I initially assumed it was an act, so discovering it’s her default emotion is almost disturbing. I don’t mind her peppy attitude now, but I tend to prefer Brielle. That’s a girl that I can see plenty of myself in.”

“Well, we'd better get this tour moving. We don’t have much time remaining, and need to head downstairs,” Miss Bishop announced, glancing at her expensive wristwatch. “I’m sure the girls will be finished getting ready within the hour.”

“Are you heading to the showroom? I must come along,” Francesca declared, standing up.

Despite her minor frown forming, Holland turned it into a pleased smile.

Locking her arm through Elliot's, Francesca let Graham join Holland before they followed. She let the secretly flustered teen know that she’d spent many hours down on the mansion’s lower level. Proclaiming that Petra didn’t care for her, the blunt woman stated that those feelings only encouraged her to visit more often. In doing so, Francesca revealed a long personal history with the Raddatz family, both as a friend and a client. A woman who appreciated the finer things in life, including young men, she made sure to mention, the very busty diamond lover admitted that the Raddatzes often felt like a surrogate family to her.

“Yes, the basement includes some of the rooms often overlooked in a tour, such as the utility room and laundry,” Miss Bishop listed.

“Unless you’ve only used washboards or cauldrons,” Francesca quipped, rubbing her very large breast against Elliot’s arm.

“Not everyone remembers those days like you,” Holland shot back, making Francesca bark out a laugh at her attitude.

“We also have a large gym and a connecting series of hobby rooms, which I guess count as one room,” Miss Bishop added.

“Hold on…Yes, I knew your name rang a bell! Kayla’s neighbor! You’re the boy that the Uphoff girl dumped before prom last year to attend with a senior stud. Oh, my!” Francesca chuckled. “No wonder you turned feisty. Aw, don’t be like that.”

Ignoring her plea, Elliot pulled his arm free. Hurrying to join Graham, he reached him just as the somewhat chubby teen halted beside a sliding glass door. Initially confused, Elliot also did a double-take at realizing the mansion’s basement held an exterior door. Then, he realized part of the basement was a walkout level. Beyond the glass door, his eyes bugged out at the vast grounds in the backyard.

“Oh, right. We won’t have time for the outside tour, but besides the tennis courts I mentioned, there is the maze garden, the veranda, a gazebo, the pool and hot tub with a pool house, and the three-bedroom guest house. The latter is where your party will take place inside and around,” Miss Bishop listed.

“Don’t forget the art studio. Opal had it constructed for privacy in the far northwestern corner near the wall,” Francesca recounted.

“How…How large is the property?” Graham inquired, returning to one of his original questions.

“I believe thirty acres,” Holland recalled.

“Thirty-five, Miss Bishop. You’re omitting the often-forgotten cemetery beyond the rear wall. Despite environmental regulations that preclude any future burials, the Raddatz family still honors the ancestors or close friends buried in those plots,” Francesca revealed before clapping her hands. “Onto the showroom!”

“Holy shit!” Elliot exclaimed, peering through the glass door at the various levels of terrain and the large forest.

“No security detail can adequately cover this size of a property with potentially a few hundred guests. An attempt will be made during the party. This I guarantee,” Graham declared.

“No shit. And Mercedes will find a way to blame us,” Elliot responded.

“Boys! You’re missing the best part!” Francesca called from inside the room at the east end of the basement.

Buried under a mound of dirt and beside the underground garage, the pair of forced crime advisors entered the showroom. They gasped as soon as they entered. On either side, two long rows of glass cases sat embedded in the walls. Francesca and Holland, providing commentary, explained how the bulletproof glass could withstand an earthquake. Apparently, they could access the cases from behind through the vault at the far end of the room.

Inside each section of the showcases were pride-and-joy items Raddatz & Padfield had created over the past century. Earrings, bracelets, anklets, necklaces, and various jeweled knick-knacks lined the shelves. Holland surprised and pleased Francesca with how much history and detail she’d picked up in her short time at the company.

“See that? It’s the second-ever caramel diamond. Brown diamonds used to be considered worth the least of the various colors until DeForest, Mal’s uncle, and another company launched public relations campaigns a quarter century ago. His brother had his doubts at first, but came around. The first, which sparked a war with those bastards who trademarked the term chocolate diamond, lies inside the vault,” Francesca divulged.

“I understand that bad blood still exists between the two companies,” Graham noted. “Do you think it’s enough to create a scheme to humiliate Raddatz & Padfield?”

“I wouldn't put it past anyone in this business, even Galasso and Zhong, who’ve made fortunes with R&P,” Francesca added. Rubbing her hands together, she promised the boys a treat later tonight once Mal opened the vault that his grandfather had built down here.

“Is this a three-factor security setup?” Graham asked, his head rocking backward in awe.

“Yes. It requires a physical key, a biometric key, and a passcode,” Miss Bishop revealed.

“And behind that vault door lies my most valuable piece created by Raddatz & Padfield: the Frost Diamond Necklace,” Francesca teased. “If that Seeper wants any piece, it would be that.”