I'm No Angel by Patti Berg Page B

repeat not , going to sleep with him.”
    â€œIt seems to me that you’re protesting far too much,” Emma said, not even bothering to look at Angel. Instead, she was busy smoothing the folds out in her bright yellow and teal Lilly Pullitzer sundress.
    â€œGive me a break, Em. The man’s father was a thief.”
    â€œAnd a gorgeous thief he was,” Morganna quipped, breezing into the room with pins, tailoring chalk, and a tape measure draped around her neck. “Why, the moment Chase Donovan set footin this town he had all the women swooning. It didn’t matter if he was a thief or an ax murderer, women wanted him. But I’m sure you already know all the details.”
    â€œOnly bits and pieces,” Angel said, dying to hear more. “Do you know the whole story?”
    â€œOnly the parts that interested me.” Morganna smiled and, instead of working on the alterations to the fabulous red gown, poured herself a glass of champagne and took a sip. “Gossip is always so interesting—but only timely gossip. I could easily wager a guess that no one in town remembers all the details. What is done is done and best forgotten, because there is always something new to talk about.”
    â€œBut you knew Chase Donovan?” Emma asked, kicking off her lemon yellow mules and curling her legs beneath her on the couch.
    â€œI met him a time or two when he’d come here with his wife Amélie. Beautiful woman. French, if I remember correctly, and quite petite.” Morganna plucked a Godiva from the crystal tray and took a tiny bite. “Poor woman died in childbirth. It was terribly sad to see Chase at the funeral, holding his newborn son in his arms, the tears flowing freely down his handsome face.”
    Morganna licked her lips, then patted her mouth with a linen napkin. “Carlotta and Holt Hudson—they were the best of friends with Chase and Amélie, but I’m sure you know that—stood at Chase’s side through the entire service. So sad. So sad. And poor, poor Chase. He never did get over the loss of his wife.”
    Morganna took another sip of champagnewhile twisting the ropes of pearls she wore around her neck. Her mind seemed to drift back in time, as a wistful smile touched her face.
    â€œI visited Chase when I could get away from my business. In fact, I gave him the most darling little outfits that I’d handmade for his son and”—Morganna sighed deeply—“I tried to ease Chase’s pain—you know, a massage here, a kiss there—but, sadly, he could not be consoled.”
    â€œYou don’t know anything about the theft of The Embrace, do you?” Angel asked, filling Morganna’s champagne glass to keep the woman talking.
    â€œOne heard stories that Chase had been a famous cat burglar. It was all very romantic and ever so glamorous—like Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief —and I suppose it was thrilling to have Chase in our midst. But there was never any proof that he’d stolen anything—until that night when he broke into Holt’s home. He didn’t need to steal The Embrace because he already had more money than he could possibly spend in a lifetime. All I can assume is that his grief drove him out of his mind and he didn’t know what he was doing.”
    â€œIs it true that Chase tried to attack Carlotta Hudson?” Angel asked, shifting the conversation just a bit, not wanting to dwell on any one thing too long, for fear Morganna might end her gossiping for the day and get back to business.
    â€œAs I said,” Morganna explained, “it all happened a very long time ago. But as I recall, Chase’s blood was all over Carlotta’s bed. There were photos in the paper and of course the police had Holt’s statement.”
    Morganna shook her head in dismay. “It is easy to make assumptions. Perhaps Chase was out of his mind and thought Carlotta was his long-dead