Dead to the Max (19 page)

He flashed her a humorless smile. “Jealous?”

God, he sounded like Cameron, turning her own words back on her. “Don’t make yourself look ridiculous.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, as if he accepted she’d scored a point. “The divorce should have happened years ago. Would have except for my kids.”

“I suppose your infidelity had nothing to do with it, huh, Nickie?”

Head cocked to one side, he seemed to study her a moment. “No one but Wendy called me that. You didn’t pick that up from her date book. You knew her, didn’t you? She told you about me.”

He moved in closer as he spoke, invaded her space, turned the heat up. Her mouth went dry.

Max was tall, but he was taller by a lot. She tipped her head back. “I never met her.”

“Liar,” he drawled. “What’s your game?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t have one.”

“Is that why you were playing patty cake with the detective the other day?”

She laughed. “Patty cake?”

“He held your hands. Not very detective-like, if you ask me.”

Humor laced his voice. Imagining his laughter did something quirky inside her chest. She adored a man who knew how to laugh. So had Wendy.

He’d just given her an opening she couldn’t pass up. “What were you doing outside Lilah’s? Waiting to have your nails done?”

“Watching you.”

Yes, yes, yes. Please. “Or watching Lilah?”

“Still think I’m a suspect, Max?”

He was so close she could see the individual whiskers of his five o’clock shadow. She raised one eyebrow. “Definitely. You could have killed Wendy to hide your affair, and then you went after Lilah to hide your first murder.”

Nothing phased him. He didn’t back off the way a man should have when he’s just been accused of homicide. “There was nothing to hide. I’m a good listener, and Wendy needed someone to talk to.”

Her stomach lurched, as if Wendy screamed at his casual denial. “Before or after you started fucking her?”

The lines at his mouth deepened as his lips tensed. “I never
fucked
her.”

“You were just helping her build self-esteem by showing her how attractive she was? Is that what you told your wife?”

“My ex-wife knew nothing about Wendy and me.”

“Well, she certainly knows now.”

He rocked forward. His closeness dazzled Wendy, made Max herself lose her train of thought. Maybe even her sanity.

“What do you think you know?”

Know? She didn’t know anything except that the shape of his mouth would fit hers precisely, that he smelled of aftershave, that she was sick of her own reflection in his damn glasses.

“Someone hated Wendy enough to kill her.” She took a chance despite not being able to gauge his expression behind those mirrored lenses. “And your soon-to-be ex-wife had reason to hate Wendy. Maybe even reason to kill her.”

He backed off then, instantly, features frozen. Max felt the power shift. She had the driver’s seat now, and she drove right over him. “Why is she divorcing you, Nick?”

“Who says
she’s
divorcing
me?
”

“It’s way past time for games.” Though Wendy enjoyed playing hers through Max. “She threw you out. Why?”

He took a deep breath, lines of bitterness furrowed his brow. “Because I was a low-life, no good, lousy husband whose first priority was never the wife and kids.”

Max snorted. “God, if you believe that, you’re incredibly stupid. Every woman knows when her man is screwing around.” She’d have known in an instant if Cameron had even thought about it. The scent of guilt would have clung to him like skunk on a hound. “That’s why she kicked you out.”

“Believe me, she wouldn’t have been able to keep it to herself if she even suspected.”

“Unless she was planning retribution, Nickie.”

The pulse at the side of his neck throbbed. A blue vein stood out at his temple. “She never knew about the affair.”

“Why don’t you take off those bad-ass glasses, and let me see your eyes when you feed me that line?”

The glasses sat firmly in place, and not a muscle ticked on his face.

“You know she did it, don’t you, Nickie? That’s what you’re afraid I’ll figure out.”

A muscle rippled in his jaw. “My wife didn’t kill Wendy.”

It wasn’t lost on Max that his “ex” had quickly become his “wife” when he thought Max was threatening her. Whether they’d signed the papers or not didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

“Scared the mother of your children is a murderer?” she taunted.

His tension faded. He folded his arms across his chest. She could almost see his brain work. He thought he was on to something. “There’s one problem with this theory of yours.”

“Hmm?”

“My wife’s got an airtight alibi. She had the kids with her that night.”

Max merely smiled. “Your mother-in-law’s house is only five minutes from the airport. Have you checked if your wife was home with her little darlings at 10:00 the night Wendy died?”

His air of superiority died a quick death. “You don’t know a damn thing about what happened that night.”

“Maybe you don’t either—especially since you weren’t even aware she knew about you and Wendy.”

“My wife is not capable of murder.”

Wendy welled up inside Max, and the dead woman’s words slipped out her mouth. “Thought you were divorcing her, Nickie. Thought you couldn’t stand the sight of her anymore and that touching her made you want to puke.”

He took a step back, the heel of his boot hit the curb, and he stumbled. “Who the hell are you?”

Without those shades, she would have seen panic in his eyes.

Max closed in. Wendy’s roiling emotions drove her forward. “Are you still in love with your wife?”

“That’s over.”

“Your feelings for her are far from over, aren’t they?”

He swallowed. She knew he’d looked deep inside. “There are times she can be so damn sweet.”

“What about the times she can be so damn cruel?”

His hands fisted. “None of this is her fault.
I
had the affair.
I
broke up my family.”

“I was talking about cruelty, Nick. Couldn’t she be cruel enough to kill?”

“Carla had a real bad childhood.”

“That’s no excuse. Wendy had a shitty childhood, too. But she’s the one who’s dead.”

“Wendy’s parents never committed her, never had her subjected to shock treatments, and never left her alone at the mercy of fifteen unrestrained psychotics.”

“No, Wendy’s father only beat her and terrorized her and—” She cut off the last, worst piece. Even she couldn’t say that aloud. It was only in that short silence that she finally heard what he’d said. Jesus, everyone had a story, even Carla.

Nick narrowed his gaze, brought his face down to hers. “That’s bullshit. Wendy had a perfect childhood.”

“Yeah, right. Go on telling yourself that. Didn’t you want her because she seemed defenseless and damaged and needed
you
to protect her? Just like your wife used to need you.”

She wanted to rip the glasses from his face, stare into his eyes, see into his soul. She wanted the truth.

“You said you didn’t know Wendy.”

“I said I’d never met her.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. A sheen of sweat showed at the open throat of his work shirt. “Who are you?”

“You’re repeating yourself, Nickie.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to know you don’t have any secrets from me.” Unfortunately, he had far too many. She’d figure them all out. Eventually.

Max took perverse pleasure in rattling him. He was far too appealing for a man involved in murder. She had the same repellent attraction for hairy spiders, though she’d never wanted to touch one. “Come on, Nick. What are you afraid of?”

He popped then, like an overstretched bungi cord. She couldn’t say which taunt had pushed him over the edge. His lip lifted in a snarl. He glared at her through his dark lenses, an attempt to regain control. “Stay away from my wife.”

“What about you, Nickie? Shall I stay away from you, too?”

She ignored his threat, took a step closer. Her heart pounded, adrenaline rushed through her veins, need raged in her chest.

He grabbed her then, rough hands on her shoulders, and jerked her against him, crushed his mouth on hers. He tasted of anger, domination, and fear. He tasted of peppermints. Like Cameron. Max was sure she’d die. By his hands or in his bed, she didn’t know which.

The kiss was over so quickly, she never even had a chance to close her eyes. That didn’t stop her body from lubing up or her nipples from budding against her shirt.

Max put a hand to her mouth. One clear thought came through. Nick was as susceptible to Wendy’s persistent emotions as she was. He might not see her in Max’s flesh, but he sure as hell saw her shining out of Max’s eyes.

He looked down at her, mirrored glasses reflecting her stunned face.

“Yeah. Stay away from me, too. You really have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Chapter Sixteen

It was dark. It was late. The cool night air soothed her after the heat of the day. Max sat on a swing in a park three blocks from the Victorian where she rented her sparse room.

“You didn’t ask him if he drove a Dodge Ram.” Cameron was in top form tonight, riding her the moment she relaxed.

“The thought never even crossed my mind.”

“Liar. It crossed your prurient little brain at least twice. You were fantasizing about it on the drive home. Your fetish is beginning to border on the obsessive.”

“Don’t eavesdrop if you don’t like what you hear.”

She pushed herself back with her toe in the sand and stubbornly refused to discuss Nick Drake or the fact that her body still quaked from his touch. “I was reviewing suspects. Now you’ve ruined my concentration.” She held up her right forefinger. “Now. There’s Hal who thought Wendy was having an affair.”

“Use your skills, Max, not your logic. The answers are all right there if you just listen.”

“My skill
is
my logic.” Max held up another finger. “Then there’s Bud Traynor who used to beat Wendy.”

“He knows you went to see Lilah Bloom right before she died.”

“Bud Traynor?”

“Dammit, you know I’m talking about Nicholas Drake.”

“For your information, Nickie didn’t
act
like he knew Lilah was dead. But you want him on the list of suspects, fine. He’s there. Satisfied?”

Cameron was tellingly silent.

Max pushed off once more with her feet, sailed higher. “Now I’ll continue, if you don’t mind.”

“You haven’t got a clue who did it.”

The stars rushed by as the swing flew back, then forward. “That’s why I’m going over my list.” One more finger went up. “Then we have Carla Drake who
knew
her husband was having an affair with Wendy.”

“She had the kids.”

“She could have left them at her mother’s.”

“How would she have known Wendy was still in the parking lot? Your explanation doesn’t work.”

“She’s got motive—”

“You’d like it to be her, then he’d be free for you.”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about Wendy.”

“You’re overlooking all the logistical problems because you’re blinded by
her
emotions and
her
jealousies.”

It was so close to the truth that she ignored him and held up her pinkie. Her other hand curled tightly around the swing chain. “Next we have Remy. I just haven’t figured out his motive, yet.”

“Put your fingers down. You remind me of Hackett and his damn rules.”

Max straightened her feet out, watched them touch the sky, then she was on the down-swing again. “You’re acting like a baby. Why don’t we just clear the air? You’re jealous because Nick kissed me.”

She winced, realizing how much she sounded like Nicholas Drake. In denial.

Cameron’s voice followed her as she flew up, taunted her as she fell back to earth. “You weren’t in control. You lost your head. That isn’t like you. It could get you killed.”

She leaned all the way back until her short hair brushed the sand. “He’s not a killer.”

“You sound like him when he defended his ex-wife. Excuse me, his
wife.
” Damn Cameron for picking up on that telltale switch of Nick’s. “You’ve both got blinders.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell Nick that Lilah Bloom had been murdered?”

She came down, slowed, skidded her feet across the sand. “So what?”

“You were afraid.”

A trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts. “I was testing him.”

“You were afraid he wouldn’t be surprised. Or that he’d act
too
surprised. Then you’d have to think
he
might have killed both women.”

She thrust herself from the swing, took three steps, sand sucking at her feet. “He had no motive for murdering Lilah.”

“Yet
you
suggested he’d go after Lilah because she might tell his wife about his affair.”

Cameron’s voice was all around her. She threw her arms out. “I didn’t believe it even when I said it to him. I just wanted to push. Carla was already divorcing him. It wouldn’t have mattered what Lilah told her.”

“You aren’t asking enough questions, Max.”

“I’m asking them all.”

“You haven’t said Lilah’s name to any of your so-called suspects.”

“Witt already talked to them. What the hell am I supposed to add?”

“You haven’t been to see the other people in Wendy’s appointment book.”

“Her psychiatrist.”

“And her psychic reader.”

“The first won’t tell me a thing because I’m not a cop, and the second can’t know any more than I do. She’s a crock.”

“Excuses, Max. You have way too many.”

“If you’re so omnipotent, why don’t you look in your crystal ball? Why don’t you ask Wendy’s spirit? Why don’t
you
give me some answers?”

“I
gave
you the questions. Ask Nicholas Drake where he was when Lilah Bloom was murdered. Don’t you think that’s important?”

She felt the sand sucking her down. Circling the swing, she grabbed the chain and threw herself into the seat again. Her head swirled with Cameron’s words, her body squirmed with too much sexual tension. With Nick, and before that, with Detective Witt.