Burning Seduction (11 page)

He wasn’t all that experienced in understanding the dynamics of a family unit. Growing up, Harmon was always doing his thing, too busy to play with a little brother. His dad worked all the time and his mom left when he was in fifth grade. In the end, Trent learned that the police force was his family, and that they’d always be there for him. Did he yearn for more? Fuck, if he knew.

The next morning, when he arrived at work, he had to fight to keep focused. He’d rather think about Charlotte than finding a killer.

“You get a hold of Frank Hamilton yet?” Dan Hartwick asked, suddenly appearing in front of his desk. Trent swore the man had the ability to materialize at will.

He jerked out of his reverie. “I have an appointment with him at ten. He’s been out of town since the murder.”

“So, he’s not a suspect?” Dan’s brows pinched.

“He flew to New York on the seven a.m. flight the morning after Bill died, so he’s not in the clear. In fact, he looks like our most likely candidate. He’s back in town now.”

“Were you able to dig up any dirt on him?”

“Not much. I spoke to Harmon, who thought Frank was the more honest of the two partners, but my brother didn’t really trust either one of them.”

Dan nodded. “Good luck then.”

A few minutes later, Trent gathered his stuff and headed out. He’d be going right by Charlotte’s store and the urge to stop was strong, but he didn’t want to be late to Ardton Investments. Besides, once he started chatting with her, he might not want to leave.

Trent parked in front of the marble clad building and headed inside. He didn’t want to think back to the time when he used to come here to visit his all important and rich brother. The ache still dug at him.

The receptionist was new—or at least since his brother had worked there—and she told him to wait in the reception area while she went in search of Mr. Hamilton. Out of habit, Trent’s gaze shot to the office where Harmon used to work, occupied now by someone new. Instead of two bosses and two brokers, there was now one boss and about six brokers, implying the firm was doing quite well.

Shortly after the receptionist stepped into Frank’s office, he rushed out and held out his hand. “Trent, good to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances. Come on inside.”

Trent was taken aback. He’d expected a cooler reception. After all, Trent had practically accused Frank of setting up Harmon. To his credit, Frank had been quite shocked that Trent’s brother had been involved in something illegal. When he told Harmon later on about Frank’s reaction, his brother reminded him that stockbrokers were often the best actors in the world.

Frank motioned Trent take a seat in front of his desk. “I’m still in shock over Bill’s murder. Do you have any clues?” he asked, sitting down and straightening the items in front of him.

“We’re working on it.” He wasn’t about to give anything away.

Trent would have asked where Frank was at midnight the evening Bill was murdered, but most likely Frank would say he was asleep in bed next to his wife. The funny thing about late night murders was that it was easy to sneak out of a house, kill someone, and be back before anyone knew it.

He dismissed the thought as soon as he remembered that Cade had asked him what Harmon had been doing at the time of the murder, too.

“How can I help?” Frank asked.

“I’ll begin by asking who would want Bill dead?”

Frank slightly shook his head. “That would be any client who lost a lot of money, I suppose.”

He sounded like Bill’s wife. “You wouldn’t want to share that information with me, would you?”

Frank leaned back in his seat. “Detective, you know better than to ask. My livelihood would evaporate if I handed over the names of our clients.”

Trent expected that answer, but he needed to ask anyway. “Do you think there exists a client who would be irate enough to murder?”

“I hope to hell not. I sure don’t want to end up like Bill.” He visibly shuddered.

“Who stood to gain the most by Bill’s death?”

Frank placed a hand on his chest. “Are you asking if I’m in Bill’s will, or if the company is now mine after his death?” Trent hadn’t expected such defensiveness.

“It was merely a general question.” It was always better to remain non-committal.

Frank stabbed a hand through his slicked-back hair. “Bill and I did not discuss each other’s wills, though I imagine everything would go to Elaine. As for the company’s assets, she’ll get half of the profits for the rest of the year, and then her income stream ends since I’ll be the one doing the work from this point forward.”

Trent wasn’t getting far with this line of questioning, though he didn’t really expect to. “Let’s talk about Elaine Goddard.”

“What about her?”

Trying to act casual, Trent stretched out his legs. “If she were to benefit from her husband’s death, say from his life insurance policy, do you think she would be capable of killing him or having him killed?” Just because she was at her sister’s the night before, didn’t mean she couldn’t have snuck out.

Frank’s face colored. “Anything’s possible. Can’t say their marriage was a match made in heaven.”

Trent didn’t remember hearing about any discontent before, though there was probably no reason anyone would have brought it up. “Was Bill unfaithful?” Perhaps a jealous lover did him in.

“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, Detective. Try Elaine.”

“She’s having an affair?” Perhaps it was her lover who decided to do in Bill. Christ. Trent had more suspects than he knew what to do with.

“I can’t speak from experience. I tried to stay as far away from her as possible. Perhaps you should ask Harmon.”

Trent’s blood pressure shot up. “Harmon’s been in jail for the last three years. He was released just last week.”

“I am very aware of that, Detective, but when Harmon was at the firm, Elaine set her sights on him.”

Trent’s gut tightened. “What are you suggesting?”

“All I’m saying is that Bill’s wife is trouble. She has a way about her to get people to do things for her. Now if you’ll excuse me, Detective, I have trades I need to place.”

Trent knew that was all he was going to extract from the man today, so he stood. “Thank you for your help. I hope you understand that I need to ask you to remain in town until we find Bill’s killer.”

His eyes widened. “Am I a suspect?”

“Everyone who knew Bill Goddard is a suspect. Good day.”

*     *     *

Even though Charlotte’s
designs were solid, she was a little nervous about showing her work to Mrs. Goddard. She was confident that Patty, her boss back in Kalispell, would say they were the best she’d ever done, but since this was the first time she’d been out on her own, Charlotte wanted to make a good impression.

Charlotte rang the bell at the Goddard home, pleased that the sophistication of her design seemed to match the exterior of the house.

Footsteps sounded and a moment later a very elegant looking Mrs. Goddard opened the door and smiled. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” she asked as she motioned her inside.

“No. My GPS was spot on.”

Mrs. Goddard nodded to the folder in Charlotte’s hand. “Are those for the new room?”

“Yes, and I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve come up with.”

“Me, neither. Let me show you to Bill’s office and then we can take a look at what you’ve done. I hope my dimensions and photos were good enough to give you an idea of what the place looked like.”

So did Charlotte, but if she had to redo the design, she would. Usually, she asked to see the place first, but Mrs. Goddard had been in such a hurry that Charlotte had agreed to do the drawings sight unseen.

Her client led her down a small hallway and then through a set of double doors where light from a bay window streamed in. Excitement filled her. “It’s really a lovely space.”

“I’m hoping someone can use Bill’s sofa, chairs, and desk.”

The furniture looked like fine leather and the desk could have been handmade. Charlotte still couldn’t believe Mrs. Goddard wanted to get rid of everything. “You sure you want me to take all of this? You don’t want to try to sell a few things?” There were books, a computer, plants, and beautifully framed photos, much of which looked valuable.

Mrs. Goddard waved a hand. “Bill decorated his office and picked out all of the furniture.” She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “It’s too painful for me to look at his things any more. I’ve even arranged for someone to come in and clean out his closet. I just want his stuff gone.”

The poor woman. “I understand. Now that I’ve seen how much you have, I can let my movers know the scope of the project.”

“Thank you, dear. Let’s go back to the dining room where you can show me your plans.”

For the next half hour, Charlotte explained how she thought the room could best be configured. In the three years since she’d been doing design work, Mrs. Goddard had to be the easiest client to work with. She seemed very excited about all of Charlotte’s ideas.

“You said you were going to be able to clear out Bill’s office tomorrow?”

“Yes, I can have my people in here by nine. I can’t imagine it will take them more than an hour or two to clean out the place.” Thankfully, Mrs. Goddard had decided to keep the hard wood floors and the drapes, making Charlotte’s job easier.

“Excellent. And when can you start painting?”

Charlotte liked the beige walls, but Mrs. Goddard said she preferred a sea-foam green, as it helped relax her. Wanting to please her, Charlotte said she would come up with a slightly different palette that she was sure her client would be happy with.

Mrs. Goddard kept glancing to the clock on the wall and Charlotte figured it was time for her to leave. She had a ton of things to do before tomorrow anyway. Charlotte stood. “I’m very excited to start on this project. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Charlotte slipped back into the car, her mind going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out if the beautiful sofa and chairs would fit in her small apartment. Mrs. Goddard had seemed quite pleased when Charlotte had asked if she could take the furniture for herself.

Coming to Rock Hard had been the best decision Charlotte had ever made. She couldn’t wait to tell Trent all about it.

Chapter Eleven

“T
hanks guys, for
all your help.” Sharon had found the college men for Charlotte, and they’d done a fantastic job this morning moving all of Mr. Goddard’s possessions. They took several bags to the trash, donated a ton to the women’s shelter, and delivered the cream leather sofa and two chairs to her place minutes after she’d arrived home.

“Anytime,” the largest of the three said.

She gave each of them a big tip. “I’ll be sure to call you on my next job.”

They all grinned. To them, this was probably easy money. They’d flirted with her all during the job, and while she was flattered, none of them interested her, even though they seemed nice and uncomplicated.

I want Trent, damn it.

Charlotte closed her front door and headed straight to the shower. Every bone in her body was fatigued, and she smelled bad from all the hard work of packing up Mr. Goddard’s books. She planned to ask Harmon if knew of anyone who might want the financial books.

Once the water warmed, Charlotte stepped under the relaxing flow, and as she soaped up her hands, she closed her eyes and pictured Trent rubbing his palms up and down her body. Her nipples hardened as she dragged her fingers over the tips. She then imagined Trent on his knees with his fingers sliding in and out of her pussy. When he’d touched her all over, he’d sent her into the outer stratosphere, and she could almost feel his hands on her now.

Because she had a client list to build and he had a killer to find, the timing wasn’t the best, but deep in her heart, she believed she was the right woman for him. The question was how to prove it to him.

Born with a logical mind, she understood the first step was to get Trent over to her new place. She didn’t want to wait too long before she invited him over, since he might already be a bit upset that she hadn’t told him she was moving in. Once he’d mentioned he had to help his brother on Sunday, she didn’t want to him to have to make a choice.