Family Pride (Blood of the Pride) (17 page)

Silence wrapped around us like a death shroud, sucking the energy away.

“Enough.” I broke the standoff and stepped forward, taking the attention away from Bran. I dug out my cell phone and brought up the image of Shaw’s license. I shoved it in Michael’s face. “Do you know this man? Have you ever seen him before?”

Michael peered at the standard ugly government-issue image. “Can’t say that I do.” He swallowed hard. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he studied the picture. “Is he the one who killed Molly?” The sadness in his voice startled me, the sense of loss almost overwhelming his steely confidence.

It was the first sign of honest emotion I’d seen in the man since we’d met. The wavering in his voice, the sudden tenderness when he said her name, it showed the real Michael Hanover under all the smoke and mirrors.

“We think so.” I glanced toward the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. The Brown Betty held cold tea but I knew we had more beer in the refrigerator.

Unfortunately this wasn’t the right time for a good drunk. That’d come later.

I continued digging. “Do you have a specific nemesis, business or personal, someone who would do something like this? A reporter sniffing around for a story, a dubious business connection your radar told you would be trouble. A former friend out for revenge, a former lover.”

Michael stood for a minute in thought, his forehead creased with worry.

I stole a glance at Bran, who was staring at the floor.

“No,” Michael finally confessed. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had my share of dealings bordering on illegal.” His halfhearted smirk pissed me off. “On the razor’s edge and barely this side of the law. But not enough to warrant this sort of response. Besides, an illegitimate child isn’t big news these days. Maybe ten, twenty years ago it’d break your reputation. Now it’s a footnote at the bottom of the newspaper, a commentary in the financial section.” He spread his hands. “No offense but they’d have to try harder to wipe me out. Bigger fish to fry and so forth. It’d be a blip on the business radar if it’d show up at all. After all, it’s only a baby.”

I couldn’t figure Michael Hanover out. His tone fluctuated back and forth between his love for Molly and his disdain for Liam and vice versa. Whatever else the man might be, he rode the emotional hurricane on a minute-to-minute basis.

“It’s my brother,” Bran repeated.

“Your half brother. Remember that.”

I winced inside. Words were power and whatever happened here wouldn’t be easily forgotten by either side.

Bran crossed his arms in front of him. “You don’t tell me what to remember. Okay let’s take this from the top. If we believe you—” Bran held up a finger, forestalling any reply from his father. “If we believe you didn’t have her killed, who did?”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t particularly care if you believe me or not. The fact is I didn’t kill Molly or have her killed. And if you had any proof to the contrary I’m sure your fine friend on the police force would have already arrested me or, at the least, taken me in for further questioning.”

I must have made some sort of sound, because Michael stared at me.

“Oh yes,” he purred. “Don’t forget I’ve already been to the station and spoken to your friend Detective Attersley. I told him about how I asked you to do this favor for me—a little thing considering you’re sleeping with my son and trying to move up in the world.”

Michael pointed at me. “I was part of your damned alibi, Rebecca. I told them about sending you to Brayton and took you off the suspect list. I didn’t like it and my lawyers told me not to do it but I figured it was the right thing to do. Keep your name clean.” He glanced over at his son. “But I could call them back. I could weave a different tale if I wanted to. Tell them about the baby being your half brother and lay the foundation for them to suspect you and Rebecca here.” A sneer touched his lips. “Wouldn’t it be a story for the
Inquisitor
—eh, son? About how you found out Liam was your half brother and you arranged for him to be kidnapped and killed to keep him from his part of the Hanover fortune?”

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

The balls would be a much better target.

I drew back, ready to deliver the mother of all kicks to the family jewels, when a breeze brought me more than Michael’s nervous sweat and Bran’s natural musk.

Another scent—one I’d recognize anywhere.

Chapter Ten

A soft sound came from behind us, accompanied by a sickening-sweet whiff of perfume. I closed my eyes and berated myself for not locking the front door.

“What about the Hanover fortune?”

Bernadette Hanover stood in the doorway.

At the back of my mind came the quiet fact I’d been taught on the farm—always have an exit strategy. I’d instinctively left the front door open for a quick exit in case things got ugly.

Except now things were about to get very, very messy.
Exploding cans of spaghetti in a pure-white room
messy.

She wore a long black coat over her overpriced jeans, a wisp of white ruffle sticking out at her neck. A small black handbag swung from her left elbow.

“What about the fortune?” she repeated.

Michael crossed the room with a handful of long, quick strides to stand in front of her. He took hold of her arms as if she were a porcelain doll teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“You shouldn’t be here. How did you get here?”

“I asked Andrea where you were. She said you were meeting with Bran.” She smiled, artificially whitened teeth almost blinding me. “I called your driver and he told me the address.”

“Ah. Yes.” Michael turned toward Bran and me. “We were just talking about...ah...” His face went blank.

He might have been a practiced liar but not a good one when it came to improvising excuses for discussing murder.

I stepped in, seeing his confusion—not to rescue him but to try to minimize the damage from friendly fire.

“We were talking about making a donation to help find the missing child. You remember when we met at the police station?” I tried to make my tone light, fluffy like cotton candy. “The AMBER Alert and all.”

Bernadette frowned for a second and looked up to one side, accessing her memory file. “Yes, I remember. Horrible thing.” She pushed by Michael and approached me, ignoring her husband. “A reward would be a great idea.” Her voice slipped from soft putty to hardened steel. “But that’s not what you were talking about.”

I looked at Bran, not sure how to handle this.

“Don’t worry about it.” Michael stepped up beside her. “I thought you’d be at the board meeting and I didn’t want to bother you.” He touched her arm. “Now that you’re here, let’s go out to a nice café and relax; let these two crazy kids have some time together. I can call Armando’s and get us a table for dinner.”

Bernadette looked at him. “I’m fine, dear.” The coolness in her words screamed frostbite. “Do you know how boring those meetings are?”

Michael grinned. “I know. But you enjoy helping out people.” He looked at Bran. “We all do.” The hardness in his words warned his son to not reveal anything, to leave it to him.

I wasn’t sure if it was the best option. From where I stood Michael had made nothing but bad decisions from the start where Molly Callendar was involved.

The sweat poured off the elder Hanover’s forehead, dripping from the edge of his nose. The sour smell increased to the point of threatening to choke me out.

“I don’t. Not anymore.” Bernadette took a few steps away from her husband. “Do you know what goes on at those meetings? They’re nothing but gossip central. Women nattering about this and that, about what’s happening with their husbands, their boyfriends.” She stared at Michael. “Their husbands’ lovers.”

Both men moved toward her at once. I hung back, unsure what to do. I’d seen husband/wife confrontations before in this very place, in my office usually due to something I’d discovered on the urging of one or the other. Usually I was able to push one party out the door with the threat of calling the police or, if all else failed, showing off my Taser.

But this was family and I didn’t know what to say or do.

Being neutral didn’t seem to be enough.

“What are you talking about?” Michael tried to bluff, the pasted-on smile beginning to weaken around the edges.

Bernadette’s face hardened into a scowl, the words grinding through clenched teeth. “I know about you and Molly. And all the others.” She looked at Bran, her deep blue eyes wide and sad. “If I had a dime for every woman your father’s screwed I’d be independently wealthy.”

Despite the situation I choked back a laugh.

“She was just a diversion, a flavor of the month.” Michael walked toward her, his arms outstretched. “It wasn’t anything serious.”

“They never are.” She glanced over Michael’s shoulder. “You deal with this sort of stuff all the time, Rebecca. Do men ever just have one affair?”

I swallowed hard. This was not the conversation I wanted to have with my possible in-laws.

“It depends on the relationship between the husband and wife.” I fumbled through the verbal minefield. “Some men regret having an affair and spend the rest of their lives making up for it. Some women never forgive them no matter what they say or do.” I tried hard not to look at Michael. “Some men can’t handle a monogamous relationship, period.”

“And some women put up with it—” Bernadette waved a hand in front of her as if brushing away a fly, “—because of the perks, to be rather crude. Dip your wick anywhere you want but keep the bills paid.” Her voice dropped a level. “And never, never look over the credit card bills and ask what this charge or that charge was for.”

“Bernadette...” Michael’s voice shifted to low and threatening. “Let’s go home and discuss this over a drink or two. We don’t need to bring Bran into this.”

“Yes, yes, we do.” She smiled at Bran. “You grew up to be a smart man.” There was a waver in her voice, scratching nails across my inner chalkboard.

Bran gave me a sideways glance before nodding. “Yes, Mom. I’m pretty smart.”

“Smarter than your father.” She looked at me for a second before returning her attention to Bran. “At least you’ve been careful. You don’t have any little bastards out there waiting to come knocking on our front door years from now to demand their inheritance.”

We all froze in place.

Michael stayed silent.

Bran took short, measured breaths.

A stabbing pain erupted behind my left eye.

“A child, Michael.” The sharp reprimand in her voice reminded me of Jess. “You idiot. I knew you were screwing around on me, but a child? What were you thinking? Haven’t you ever heard of a condom?” She brushed one hand across her face as if pushing a curtain aside. “You haven’t touched me in years and I never complained once even though you know I wanted another child.”

She shook her head. “You sent her down to the charity floor where everyone could see her, see the results of your infidelity.” Her voice broke on the last word, the sob tearing down the last barrier. “She complained about having to take off her ankle bracelet because of the swelling. The silly bitch showed it to a coworker as I was walking by.”

Bernadette took a deep breath before continuing. “She told her friend it was from a weekend trip, a visit to a little boutique in Montreal. Les Deux Amant. I may not be a private investigator but I’m not stupid. She couldn’t afford to go there, not on a temp’s salary. And she sure as hell couldn’t afford an ankle bracelet from an exclusive boutique you’ve taken me to a handful of times. I checked the credit card receipts and there it was, bright as day.” Her voice rose. “When I heard she’d transferred in from Brayton’s office I knew you were involved—Brayton’s an idiot at the best of times and wouldn’t buy jewelry for his own wife, much less a mistress.”

The headache blossomed into a full-fledged migraine with a nausea chaser.

Michael Hanover had sent Molly Callendar to her doom with a simple office transfer.

Bran stepped between his parents, caught between the pair. He lifted both hands, palms out between the two as if he could raise a wall between them with his mind.

“It was an accident,” Michael answered calmly. “She was going to leave us alone, take the child and go as far away as she could. It was the best solution under the circumstances.”

Bernadette gave a dainty snort.

“The best under the circumstances. Do you have any idea what that means?”

A single tear broke free and ran down her left cheek. The streak of dark mascara reminded me of war paint. “Do you know how hard I work to keep this company going? All the damned glad-handing, all the stupid board meetings, all the bloody charity balls and dinners and crap I have to deal with while you prance off with your business buddies to play golf and smoke cigars?”

Michael shook his head, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

“The best solution would have been for you to get legal custody from her, use the legal resources at our disposal and take the child.” Bernadette shook her head. “That child has your blood, Hanover blood. Despite your moral failings he deserves a better life than being raised in a trailer park by some trashy woman who’ll probably end up popping out baby after baby with anyone who wanders by. He deserves the same sort of upbringing our son received.”

Bran blinked. “Like me?”

I moved closer to Bran. His right hand moved toward me, finding and grabbing on to me like a drowning man to a life preserver.

“You had the best.” Bernadette looked at him. “You had the private tutors, the proper schools and the best university. Everything you deserved.”

“Because of my name,” Bran said.

“Because of the Hanover name,” Bernadette corrected him. She turned her attention back to Michael. “I was not about to let this baby roam through the public school system and become another dropout, another failed statistic of the educational system.” She shuddered. “What sort of man would he become? What sort of future would he have with that sort of handicapped start to life?”

I knew the truth but had to say it out loud. “You did it. You arranged for Molly Callendar to be killed.”

Bernadette nodded as if I’d asked her if she liked milk or cream with her coffee. There was no remorse in her eyes and more than a little crazy leaking out.

“It was the only thing to do. I couldn’t allow Michael to let this little baby go off into the world. A check arriving every few months for his mother to spend on cigarettes and beer? What could that silly bitch offer him?”

“She was his mother,” I replied.

Bernadette shrugged. “An accident of genetics.” She eyed Michael. “Your father and grandfather worked hard to make Hanover Investments a success; my family gave you what you wanted to move to the next level, including me. I couldn’t let you throw it all away with an uneducated, untrained illegitimate child showing up in a few decades to take it from us.”

“You followed me to the hotel. Or to be more precise your paid killer did.” I spoke calmly and slowly as if to a child. I wasn’t sure where to go with this or what to do. The situation was spinning out of control and all I could do was hang on for the ride.

“I knew Michael was talking to you about something sleazy, something your type would be dealing in.” Her upper lip curled away from brilliant white teeth. “It didn’t take a genius to figure out he wanted you to help Brayton finish out this little charade. It was easy to have someone follow you and find the woman.” She tilted her head to one side. “You’re not so bright when it comes down to it.”

I ignored the slight. “How did you find someone to do the job?”

“If you give to enough charities you can always find someone willing to take out the garbage.” She giggled. “He was shocked at first but we got down to negotiations soon enough.”

“Keith Shaw,” I added. “You met him when you were at Second Chance, Second Life. He was on parole for murder and you knew he’d be easy to buy.” I knew now why I’d had an odd feeling on the street, the feeling of being watched. “You told him to follow me the second I left the offices and he tracked me to the hotel and Molly’s room.”

Bernadette glared at me. “You’re not as incompetent as you look.”

Her right hand ducked inside the purse and returned with a small silver-plated automatic, a ladies’ weapon. She swung her arm out to one side, sweeping it around. “Now all of you listen to me.” Her voice hardened.

I took a deep breath. This was going from bad to worse to deadly at warp speed.