Murder After Hours Page 7

  Lea shook her head. “I doubt it will do much good. By now, he’s had a chance to correct his story or concoct a better one. He’ll tell you he had his dates confused, that he was with a client instead of being at City Hall.”

  “That’s true. It won't be hard for him to invent an excuse. Look how quickly my wife concocted a feasible lie,” Paul said, with a note of concern.

  “My sister’s great at that!” Maddy exclaimed. A sharp kick under the table made her wince. “Knowing if a person is telling lies, I mean.”

  Both men turned toward Lea.

  “Maddy is referring to a trick I learned from Dad. Being incapable of lying myself,” Lea said, staring daggers at her sister, “I detect falsehoods by putting myself in a criminal’s shoes and thinking the way he thinks.”

  “That’s what I meant,” Maddy whimpered as she rubbed her ankle.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lea said, placing a hand on Paul’s arm. “I’m not interested in false alibis or anything else connected to this case.”

  “That’s too bad,” Tom said.

  “No, it’s not,” Paul insisted. “That's good to hear.”

  He smiled at his wife and pushed back his chair.

  “Excuse me to go to the restroom. I’ll take care of the check on the way. Dinner’s on me owing to my buddy’s superior skills last time we played basketball.”

  Lea couldn’t wait until Paul was out of earshot to demand an explanation. “What did you mean, Tom?”

  “I was going to ask for your help,” he told her.

  “In what way?”

  “Henry reported an altercation between Sandra and Brooke at the Cave. I asked Brooke about it. She dismissed it as insignificant, but I’d like to know more. She'll be open with you without worrying you'd use it against her.”

  “I’m meeting Brooke tomorrow for lunch,” Maddy said.

  “There you go," Tom said. "It's a perfect opportunity.”

  Lea leaned toward her sister. “You can’t say no now. Tell me when and where. I’ll run into you accidentally so you can invite me to join.”

  Tom praised the women’s efficiency in putting a plan together. They finished as Paul waved from the entrance.

  “Come on, you two. Paul is ready to leave.”

  “Not a word, either of you,” Lea warned. “I don’t want him grilling me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve experienced your husband’s intensity on the racquetball court. I can imagine how uncomfortable that might be.”

  Chapter Nine

  After his session at police headquarters, Ian’s day consisted mainly of receiving a barrage of calls from well-wishers, reporters, and clients. The last call came from his wife. Fatigued by the strain of the day, he snapped at her. She hung up in tears.

  Ian lowered his head. She didn’t deserve that. I’ll make it up to her when I get home.

  Before he left, there was one more call he needed to make. He closed his office door before punching a private line on his console.

  “Darrell, it’s Ian,” he said, when a voice answered.

  “Hey, man. I’m sorry to hear about Sandra. I know what an asset she was. It’s tough finding someone that good, let alone keeping them as long as you two have been together.”

  “Yeah, it’s rough. Donna and I will get through it.”

  He took a deep breath. I mustn’t sound anxious.

  “I need a favor.”

  “Anything,” Darrell replied. “Except giving you my office manager. She’s as valuable as Sandra.”

  “I wouldn’t ask. No, it’s about our meeting to discuss your business insurance.”

  Ian hesitated. Should I continue? Is Darrell the right person?

  “Did you put together some numbers for me?” Darrell asked.

  “Sorry, no. Not with everything that’s happened. I’ll get something to you by the first of the week.”

  I have no choice but to swallow my ego and hope he complies.

  He put a hand to his pounding chest before blurting out, “If anyone inquires, could you say we had our meeting at seven o’clock instead of five?”

  Silence.

  Can he read through me? Have I exposed my position?

  “No problem,” came the reply after a moment.

  Ian exhaled the air from his lungs.

  “It’s an odd request. Mind if I ask why?”

  Ian sucked in another breath.

  Give him an answer so this conversation can be over.

  “This is embarrassing,” he started.

  “If you’d rather not say…”

  “No, you deserve an explanation.” He paused briefly “I’ve been a bit of a fool. Instead of being home with my wife, I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been with someone I shouldn’t have been with.”

  The deep throaty laugh told Ian his lie was accepted.

  “I’ve been there myself, bud. Don’t worry. As far as I’m concerned, you and I were together from seven until…?”

  “Ten o'clock," Ian said quickly, "talking business over dinner and drinks.”

  “You got it.”

  Ian started to disconnect, but Darrell hadn’t finished.

  “Let me give you a piece of advice.”

  The only person I need advice from is a good defense lawyer.

  “A little action on the side is one thing, but make sure to keep it on the side. It’s not worth destroying your marriage.”

  Another hearty laugh.

  “Especially in a state with community property laws. Have a good evening.”

  Ian replaced the receiver and reached for the hand sanitizer.

  I’d like to wash my hands of this whole bloody mess.

  • • •

  His private line lit up. He answered the call.

  “It’s me.”

  Doesn’t bother to give his name.

  It wasn’t necessary. Ian recognized the voice on the other end, but the arrogance rankled all the same.

  He rubbed his throbbing temples before answering. “I know who it is.”

  “Checking to see how you’re holding up.”

  He could visualize the man sitting in his office on the tenth floor of the Tower, enjoying a view of the ocean.

  Wearing one of his expensive suits, no doubt, and a pair of those shoes he imports from Italy.

  When he answered, his voice was angry, out of control.

  “How do you think I'm doing?”

  “I figured you might need a boost to your morale. From the sound of your voice, I was correct.”

  “You always think you’re right. About everything.”

  I’d like to knock the stuffing out of his superior air. His smoothness is ill-warranted, given the circumstances.

  “Take it easy. Why are you so angry?”

  “You’d be upset, too, if you’d spent half your day being grilled by the police.”

  He stared out the window. Is that who it looks like, across the street, spying on me?

  “Reason enough for upset,” the caller agreed.

  Ian spun his chair around, away from the window.

  “I never should have agreed to help you with your money problems.”

  “I admit, I hit a rough financial patch.”

  Ian snickered. “Don’t kid yourself. You were up to your eyeballs in debt. Without me, you would have gone under.”

  “I’m not the first person to borrow more than I could repay. And yes, my last business venture caused cash flow problems.” He chuckled. “My wife even threatened divorce when her credit card was declined. But I survived all that.”

  “Only with my help.” Ian became querulous. “I should have told you to take responsibility, to face the music like a man.”

  “I didn’t force you. You had your chance to walk away.”

  “And suffer retaliation from you, if you made a comeback?” Ian shouted. “What man in his right mind would risk that?”

  He tapped the metal balls on the desk toy, watching them collide as they swung back and
forth.

  “Instead, I let you pull me into your web of lies and deceit. I’ll pay for that mistake for a long time.”

  “What are you complaining about? Everything is good. I’m on top again and you’ve reaped your rewards. The additional commissions you’ve earned have boosted your income to seven digits. You’ve benefited plenty.”

  “We should have stopped when you were back on your feet. It’s out of hand.” He looked at his own hand which was trembling slightly. “I didn't intend it to go so far. I never dreamed it would lead to this.”

  The man’s reply sliced like a sharp knife. “Perhaps, I’ve misjudged you. If you can't stay the distance when things get tough, maybe you aren't cut out for this.”

  Ian searched for a biting response of his own. Nothing came to mind.

  “Quit whining,” the caller continued. “Pull yourself together.”

  “Easy advice for you to dish out. The cops aren’t crawling all over your office.”

  The voice mellowed. “I understand your situation is unpleasant.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Ian said, bitterly.

  “Look, why don’t you go away? Grab a few days for you and the wife. Use my vacation home in the mountains.” He sounded pleased by his suggestion. “It would do you a world of good.”

  “And draw more attention by acting like a fugitive?”

  “I suppose you’re right.” The nice guy tone disappeared. “Just make sure the men in blue don’t land on my doorstep.”

  The line went dead.

  Ian slammed down the phone.

  I hate him. Even more, I hate seeing myself in him.

  Two clever, dynamic, ambitious men who trigger bad things in each other.

  When did clever change to cunning?

  Dynamic become ruthless?

  Ambition turn to obsession?

  In one ill-advised act, something changed in our makeup. Until then, we were both driven, but ultimately decent. There was a limit to how far we were willing to go. When had that line vanished?

  Ian looked out the window again.

  His phone buzzed. He read the number.

  Just as I thought, it is him out there.Well, that’s one call I don’t need to answer. Not now. Maybe never.

  • • •

  He slouched in the seat of his truck, watching.

  I’m hungry. Has it been one day, or two, since I ate?

  He rolled down a window, releasing acrid smells of sweat and booze as he stared at the silhouette of the man.

  He pressed a button on his cell.

  A moment later, he threw the phone on the dashboard and spat out the window.

  That S.O.B. isn’t answering my calls.

  He embarrassed himself earlier by barging into a meeting between the man and the woman he met at the police station.

  What was her name?

  He chewed his nail to the quick.

  I’m losing it! Can’t even remember who found my wife’s body.

  He felt like a predator stalking the man.

  Clutching the steering wheel, he turned the key in the ignition.

  I’m better off staying as far from that office as I can. But I’ll show him I don’t need him anymore.

  The truck lurched forward. Screeching tires left black marks on the street as Henry sped away.

  Chapter Ten

  When Lea walked into the Fresh & Healthy Foods store, she was greeted by the manager. Besides being a client, Ryan Olson was her training partner at Gracie’s agility class.

  “Thanks to you, we have plenty of pistachios today,” he joked, referring to Lea’s help in a case involving stolen nuts.

  He picked up a colored brochure from the checkout counter. “I get compliments on this. We’ll do another soon.”

  Lea spotted her sister outside the building. “Sure thing, Ryan. See you at class.”

  She grabbed a basket before leaning over to inspect the melons at the entrance.

  “Fancy meeting you here!” Maddy exclaimed, entering the grocery store hand-in-hand with Brooke.

  Lea turned to face them. “Likewise, Sis. This is not the usual store of choice for a junk food addict.”

  Maddy pinched her sister’s elbow before making introductions.

  “We're getting a sandwich,” Brooke said. “Can you join us?”

  Lea gladly accepted.

  They proceeded to the deli section, placed an order at the counter, and carried their beverages to a table. Several moments were spent exchanging information people share on first meetings. When a server delivered their order, conversation waned as they enjoyed their sandwiches.

  Lea waited until Brooke laid her napkin across her plate.

  “Maddy tells me you and Sandra Dade were friends.”

  Brooke looked surprised, glancing back and forth between the sisters. “Yes, we were.”

  Answering the question in Brooke’s eyes, Lea said, “Maddy mentioned it when I told her about finding Sandra.”

  Brooke stared at Maddy. “Your sister is the one who found Sandra?”

  Maddy responded with a slight nod.

  Brooke stared at Lea.

  “How dreadful! I can’t imagine finding a dead body. When someone close to me dies, I hope I’m not the one who finds them.” She blushed. “Is that a terrible thing to say?”

  “Not at all,” Lea told her. “I feel the same way about loved ones. It was bad enough with a person I barely knew.”

  Brooke leaned closer. “I’d like to hear more. The station has asked me do a segment on Sandra’s murder.”

  Lea drew back.

  “It makes sense since I knew her and all,” the weathercaster explained. “It will lend a personal slant other reporters don’t have.”

  Lea experienced a bad taste, but not from the fruit salad.

  She's using a friend’s death to capture ratings. Is that the network’s brainchild or an ambitious woman's way to advance her career?

  “How did you know Sandra?” Brooke asked.

  “Ian Alexander is our broker. I saw her during visits to his office.”

  Maddy reached across the table for some of Lea’s food. “That looks good. Mind if I sample?”

  Lea watched her sister shovel a large forkful of pasta in her mouth. “Why bother to ask?”

  Brooke smiled at the exchange. “You remind me of how Sandra and I were. Growing up, we were as close as sisters, almost inseparable. During the school year, we did homework together. Summers were spent at the beach.

  “We called each other kindred spirits, friends forever. Created codes and sent secret messages. Had crushes on the same boy bands. Attended concerts where we stood in lines begging for autographs. Spent hours at the mall drooling over clothes we couldn’t afford.”

  Her eyes drifted to a spot in space. “Sandra was always surprised I chose her. I was very popular. Every girl wanted me as a best friend.”

  Coming from anyone else, the comment would sound conceited. But Brooke’s disarming manner made Lea feel the woman was barely cognizant of her charisma.

  “We were opposites. I was head cheerleader and she was valedictorian, but—”

  Brooke broke off mid-sentence as her chair was bumped. She scooted forward.

  “Pardon me,” a heavyset woman apologized. As she squeezed past, her eyes narrowed.

  “Aren’t you—?”

  She looked flusteredas she groped to find a name for the face.

  “The weather anchor at KETV," Brooke said, forcing her lips into a smile.

  “Of course. We watch your station’s newscast every night,” the woman gushed. “I just love the anchorman. He’s so smart. Feels like someone you can trust.”

  The fan hardly contained her excitement before putting her foot in her mouth. “But you’re the reason my husband watches the show.”

  Lea grimaced.

  The woman stammered. “I mean…”

  Brooke continued to smile and appeared unperturbed. “I’m glad you both enjoy the broadca
st.”

  The interrupter passed, whispering to her friends as they walked down the aisle.

  Brooke noticed the awkward silence.

  She flipped a hand in the air. “It doesn’t bother me. People don’t know Brooke Fields. They only know the weather woman. The men are more interested in what I’m wearing than if there’s rain in the forecast.”

  Lea observed Brooke closely.

  Those are forgiving words for a person who couldn’t remember her name. Are those her true feelings, or does she resent the fact her audience doesn’t look beyond beauty to view her as a serious newscaster?

  Is that why she’s eager to do a special about her friend’s murder?

  Or, would she use that vehicle to put another person in the crosshairs of suspicion and divert attention from herself?

  Brooke returned to her story.

  “Things changed our senior year of high school. I remember the Friday night it happened like it was yesterday.

  “My boyfriend told me he and his buddies were going to the gym to shoot hoops. I called to see if Sandra wanted to go out, see a movie or something. She told me she’d let me know. I waited by the phone, but she never called. When I went to her house, her mother said she’d left.

  “I decided to catch up with my boyfriend. That’s where I saw them. Henry and Sandra. In her car in the gymnasium parking lot. He leaned over, pressed her head against the cushion, and kissed her.

  “I went ballistic. Ran over and pounded on the window. Henry jumped out, trying to explain. My friend cowered inside, looking guilty.

  “I called her names. Yelled stuff I didn’t mean. She responded with hurtful things about boys wanting me for how far I was willing to go with them. Said I was lucky to attract boys with my looks because I couldn't get them with my brains.”

  “Did your friendship survive?” Maddy asked.

  “Henry promised it would never happen again and Sandra felt terrible. We made up. Tried to convince ourselves we were still close, that things hadn't changed.”

  She twisted a napkin, wrapping it around her finger. “But friendships don’t recover from the sentiments expressed that night.

  “Honestly, I was more hurt about her lying and going behind my back than my boyfriend cheating. If dating Henry would make her happy, all she had to do was ask. Henry didn’t mean that much to me. I would have given him up. Instead, she went back to her biker boyfriend.”