Murdered in the Man Cave (A Riley Reed Cozy Mystery) (15 page)

"I tried, but they'd already made up their
minds that Emily and I had dreamed up this conspiracy to murder her
uncle for money."

"That usually happens when someone is
murdered and there is a large insurance policy," I said, "or points
in that direction."

"We didn't do it for money or anything else,"
he maintained.

I looked him in the eye. "Brent thought that
you were leading his niece down a dark path. Were you?"

He held my gaze. "I know what he thought and
the answer is I wasn't. The truth is Emily was leading me away from
the dark. I'd never do anything to mess that up for either of
us."

I couldn't help but feel that he was being
sincere, in spite of the belief of the police and prosecutor to the
contrary. Proving it was another thing altogether.

But Emily's future as well as Tony's depended
on that.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

That afternoon, I had lunch with Yvonne at
the Cozy Pines Fish Palace, a lovely seaside restaurant that
specialized in seafood.

"I can't believe Emily was behind Brent's
death—and that she actually spent the night at
your
house,"
remarked Yvonne as she took a bite of crispy shrimp.

"We don't know for sure that she's involved,"
I said, munching on scallops.

Yvonne raised her left brow. "Are you
defending her?"

I realized I had to be careful when stating
my opinion, given that I had few facts to back it up. But I did
have my gut instinct, which usually served me well.

"I'm not defending Emily, per se," I stated.
"Everyone is presumed innocent till proven guilty. All I'm saying
is that both Emily and Tony deserve to be given the benefit of the
doubt right now."

"Do you really think the police would arrest
them if they didn't think they had the right suspects?" questioned
Yvonne.

I bit into an onion ring while saying, "I
think it was a rush to judgment."

"And you came to that conclusion how?"

"I went to see them," I confessed.

Yvonne's eyes widened. "You what?"

"I wanted to hear Emily's side of the
story—and Tony's by association."

Yvonne snickered. "Well, of course they would
deny having anything to do with it. What were you thinking?"

I could feel my temperature starting to rise.
"I was thinking that Brent was my friend and, since I had gotten to
know his niece a little, I wasn't willing to throw her under the
bus without just cause. I see some major discrepancies in the case
against Emily and Tony."

"Such as...?"

I relayed to her what they had told me, while
noting that there wasn't much to back up their stories as yet.

"So if they didn't kill Brent, who did?"
Yvonne asked intently.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But since the
police don't seem to be looking at anyone else right now—"

"Please don't go looking for trouble,
Riley."

I batted my lashes innocently. "Who says I
am?"

"I'm serious. If there's a killer on the
loose out there, the last thing you want is to go snooping around
and put a target on your back."

"Don't worry," I promised her, "I don't plan
to do anything stupid. I just want to make sure that Brent can rest
in peace, knowing that the right culprit or culprits for his murder
are behind bars."

Yvonne narrowed her eyes at me. "And what if
they already are?"

I paused, knowing that having an open mind
worked both ways—meaning that my instincts regarding Emily could be
wrong. I didn't believe that to be the case, though.

"Then I will accept it," I finally said.

I smartly changed the subject by asking
Yvonne how things were going with her and George. Turned out she
had taken my advice and not made any further waves about having a
child. For now, she planned to wait for a while and let the idea
hopefully grow on him. I honestly wondered if he would ever come
around in that regard. If he didn't, would it create a divide that
was too wide for them to overcome? Or was their love for each other
strong enough to get past it?

* * *

After Yvonne and I left the restaurant in our
own cars, I headed over to Jonathan Resnick's office. I'd Googled
him earlier and determined that he was located in the same office
complex as Brianna. I hoped to get his thoughts on Emily's case and
the prospects for getting her out of what seemed like a pretty deep
hole at the moment.

Having phoned him ahead of time, Resnick was
expecting me when I arrived, as his secretary sent me right into
his office.

He stood up from behind a massive desk. "Ms.
Reed," he greeted me, extending his hand.

I shook it. "Thanks for seeing me."

"My pleasure," he said. "So I understand from
Brianna it was your prompting that led her to contact me about
Emily Peterson's case."

"Yes, I wanted her to have competent
representation," I stated, not meaning for it to be a slight
against public defenders.

"As she should," he said. "Please have a
seat."

I sat in one of two plush leather chairs.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm good," I told him.

Jonathan Resnick sat beside me. "So what
would you like to know?"

"Well, for one, I was wondering if Emily will
be able to make bail."

His brow creased. "Not at this point, I'm
afraid."

"But with her assets—or soon to be—" I
started.

"Right now, Ms. Peterson has few assets to
speak of," he said. "Her inheritance and insurance payout are still
on hold, pending this criminal case. I will try to get the bail
reduced, but no promises there."

"I believe that Emily's innocent," I told
him.

"I gathered as much, since you asked Brianna
for help."

"And I think Tony's innocent of the crime,
too."

"Maybe," Resnick said, "but since he's not my
client, I can't really take a position there, other than how it
relates to Ms. Peterson's case."

I told him about paying a visit to Emily and
Tony in jail and relayed what they had to say.

"Their stories certainly seem in sync—if not
contradictory to the police investigation," the defense attorney
noted. "We'll certainly check out everything we can to weaken, if
not destroy, the State's case."

"Maybe if they were pointed in another
direction," I suggested.

"That would be nice. Unfortunately, it's not
likely unless they get some solid evidence to that effect. Right
now, our best chance is to build as strong a defense as possible
and hope that's enough at the end of the day."

"But what if it isn't?" I asked, knowing full
well what the answer was.

Resnick sighed. "Let's not go there just yet.
I prefer to think that we can prove Ms. Peterson's innocence,
knowing what's at stake."

I hated the thought of Emily being sent to
prison for something I didn't believe she had done. I was well
aware that there had been more than a few people who had been
wrongly convicted of crimes. Some were eventually exonerated, while
others remained incarcerated indefinitely.

Brent would certainly not want his death to
bring that type of misery to his niece, if she was innocent. Sadly,
he was unable to point out the person who had used the pool stick
to bludgeon him to death.

* * *

The following day, I went for my morning jog.
Then I worked on my blog and made an appointment for the following
week to see a client who was refurbishing her century old home and
needed some advice.

In the afternoon, I made arrangements with
Luisa to drop by Brent's house to pick up the set of books he had
left me in his will.

I arrived at the house just after two and
parked in the driveway behind Brent's Mercedes, now owned by Luisa.
I could imagine Brent inside the house working on a new novel. Even
if the notion of him writing a piece of fiction with a failing mind
was difficult, it was certainly more welcome than thinking about
him as the victim of foul play.

Parked next to the Mercedes was a white Honda
Civic that belonged to his ex-girlfriend Karla. I wondered what she
was doing there, since Brent had apparently ended all ties between
them in spite of her suggestion to the contrary.

The door was partially open and I stepped
inside. Walking through the house, I saw no sign of Karla or Luisa.
An eerie feeling crept over me that something was wrong. Part of me
wanted to turn around and get out of there as quickly as I could.
But the greater part of me felt that I had to see this through,
whatever may happen.

I heard a sound coming from the recreation
room. Moving toward it cautiously, I stepped into the entrance and
saw Karla take something out of a cabinet and put it in a
pillowcase she was holding.

"What are you doing?" I blurted out.

She jumped and turned around to face me. "You
scared me half to death!"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I was just collecting a knickknack I bought
when Brent and I were together. Since he no longer has any use for
it—"

I frowned. "Where's Luisa?" I hadn't seen or
heard her anywhere and wondered if I should be worried, since we
were supposed to meet at this time.

"She left a note saying she stepped out for a
few minutes."

"How did you get in here?" I asked. I was
pretty sure Luisa would have locked the door when she left.

"I still have the key Brent gave me," Karla
responded smoothly. "He never asked me to return it, probably
because he had every intention of us getting back together after a
cooling off period."

"Brent had already moved on to someone else,"
I pointed out.

She shrugged. "It wouldn't have lasted. We
were
good
together. He knew it and I knew it."

I stepped closer to her. "What you've done is
called breaking and entering. I suggest you put everything in that
pillowcase back where you found it and leave this house."

Karla flashed me an angry look. "And I
suggest
you
mind your own business. I have every right to
collect what belongs to me and not you or anyone else can stand in
my way."

She marched past me, and then stopped,
turning to look at me. "By the way, Riley, seriously, you need to
get a life. It's time to let go of Brent. I have."

I glanced around his man cave, imagining it
being refurbished to his specifications, and then followed Karla as
she headed down the hall and out the front door. I thought about
trying to stop her, but realized it wasn't my place. Whether I
liked it or not, with Emily in jail accused of murdering Brent,
there was no one left to mind the store, so to speak.

Luisa couldn't be expected to guard the
premises of looters, and neither could I. As I listened to Karla's
car drive off, I couldn't help but wonder if she may have been more
than just a thief. Possessing a key would have given her access to
the house that could have allowed her to catch Brent off guard when
attacking him with a pool cue.

As I pondered that disturbing notion, the
front door opened and Luisa walked inside. She was wearing her work
uniform and holding a bag.

"Hello, Riley."

"Hi, Luisa."

"Sorry you had to wait for me. I decided to
walk to the store to pick up a couple of items."

"No worries. I haven't been here long."

"That's good," Luisa said. "Did I see Miss
Terrell driving off?"

"Yes, she was here when I arrived. She let
herself in with a key she never returned to Brent."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did she take
anything?"

"A pillowcase full of items," I responded.
"She claimed they belonged to her."

Luisa frowned. "Mr. London would be disgusted
with her for coming in here and taking stuff she could have taken
when he was alive—if it really belonged to her."

"I agree," I told her. "Hopefully, she won't
show up for anything else."

"It won't happen when I'm here," Luisa said
resolutely.

I was still wondering just how far Karla may
have been willing to go to get back at Brent for moving on to
another woman. "Anyway, I'd better get those books now."

"They are in Mr. London's study," Luisa said.
"I can help you load them."

I smiled. "Thanks."

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm so sorry to hear
about Emily's arrest for Mr. London's murder. I kept saying to
myself, I can't believe she'd do such a thing."

"Neither can I," I told her.

Luisa made a face. "But what do we really
know about anyone? People do crazy things when you least expect
it—like with Miss Terrell."

"I agree. But it doesn't mean that was the
case with Emily."

"I hope that's true," Luisa said emotionally.
"Mr. London really loved her. He just wanted the best for his
niece."

"Did Brent have any other visitors recently?"
I tossed out casually.

Luisa gazed at me thoughtfully. "Well, his
girlfriend Miss Croxley, and Miss Terrell also came by. Oh, and Mr.
O'Shea, of course."

"Anyone else you can think of?"

"Yes, a business partner—Mr. Hendrickson. And
Mr. London was also visited a couple of times by one of his
ex-wives, Mrs. McGowan."

"Ashley?" I said out loud.

"Yes, apparently they kept in touch after
they broke up, just as you and Mr. London did."

I found that interesting. I couldn't help but
wonder how Ashley's current husband, Dean McGowan, felt about it.
Could he have been jealous to the point of murder?

I also wondered about this Mr. Hendrickson.
What type of business was he involved in with Brent?

"Do you happen to have a phone number or
anything for Mr. Hendrickson?" I asked Luisa.

"Yes, I'm sure that Mr. London kept it in his
office. I can check." She looked at me. "Do you think Mr.
Hendrickson could have had something to do with Brent's death?"