Never Con a Corgi (12 page)

Leigh sat down beside her. "It's got everybody rattled," she assured. "And if I was in your shoes, I'd be far more upset than you are, believe me."

A twinkle returned to the older woman's eyes.

"What happened after you threatened him?" Leigh asked, knowing perfectly well it was technically none of her business. "Did it work? Did he leave then?"

Anna nodded. "Finally. The second he drove away, I called your Aunt Bess. He wasn't headed her direction, but I was worried about her all the same. I was afraid he might head up to her place next."

"What about Clem? Didn't you call the police?"

Anna frowned. "Clem can take care of himself. And why on earth would I call the police? It was your aunt I was worried about."

Leigh decided not to press the point. Perhaps Anna and Clem really did hang out. They certainly shared the same lack of confidence in law enforcement.

Leigh stood. "Thank you so much for giving your approval to the dog park," she said genuinely. "I promise to keep in touch about how the plan is going. The board may vote it down, for all I know, but I'm glad to know you're not opposed to the concept."

"Bess knows I'm always happy to help her out with the animals," Anna replied, rising also.

Leigh's cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Ordinarily she wouldn't interrupt a conversation, but when she was away from the kids...

"Do you mind if I check this?" she asked, pulling out her phone.

Anna shrugged, and Leigh looked down. The call was from Gil's cell. That was odd. "I'm afraid I need to go now," she told her host, heading for the exit. "But thank you again."

"Come back any time. And tell that aunt of yours to watch herself!" Anna called out as she closed the door.

Leigh wondered as the door shut if Maura and Peterson had interviewed Anna yet. Surely, if they talked to Aunt Bess, they would know that Brandon had gone to Anna's house the night of the murder—apparently
after
the fight with Gil. Then again, her Aunt Bess hadn't passed on that particular intel to her niece, had she?

Leigh hopped into the van. Maura hated it when Leigh withheld information. But she really,
really
hated it when Leigh inserted herself into sensitive situations, asked questions that were none of her business, and through sheer dumb luck found things out before the police did.

Leigh was in trouble either way.

She drove back out to the intersection with Nicholson and pulled off on the side of the road. She would decide how to deal with Maura later. Right now, she needed to know what the heck Gil wanted.

He picked up his phone on the second ring.

"Leigh! Why didn't you answer?"

Her eyes rolled. Her cousin's husband was an honest, loyal, and devoted soul, but he was entirely too used to people jumping whenever he snapped his fingers. "I was driving," she white-lied. "Is anything wrong?"

"Not with me," he answered. "But I'm worried about Cara. Can you swing by my office today? Maybe around noon? I need to talk to you—in person."

Leigh sighed. Gil never "swung by" anybody else's office. He just expected others to come to him. "I don't see how," she explained. "I've got to be at Hook by one, and I can't leave now—I've got to wait and deliver the Pack home from the animal shelter first."

"The animal shelter!" Gil thundered. "You mean Cara's alone?"

Leigh's eyebrows arched. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course it's a problem!" he yelled.

Leigh pulled the phone away from her ear a little. She waited.

"I'm sorry, Leigh," he apologized. He always apologized. Gil March was an alpha male to the bone, but he was a chivalrous one. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just so damn worried that she'll—" he broke off the thought. "Do you know where she is now?"

"She said she was going grocery shopping."

"Can you call her and ask if she can pick up the Pack? Tell her you've got an urgent meeting downtown. It's absolutely true.
Please
, Leigh. I can't get into all this over the phone."

Leigh contemplated for a moment. But it was only for show.

They both knew she would be there.

Chapter 13

Leigh stepped off the elevator with fine beads of sweat breaking on her brow and rainwater dripping from her shoes. She hated parking downtown. She always had, which was why she preferred Hook's offices on Pittsburgh's Northside. There was always a spot available around the stadiums, unless there was a game on, in which case she simply stayed home. She'd been working from home half the time since the twins were born anyway, and she remained perpetually grateful that her line of work made that possible. Cara might be the world's most nurturing earth mother, but if Leigh had been forced to quit work entirely when her kids were little, she no doubt would have gone completely insane. As it was, she had merely dropped back her hours as needed and then started writing increasingly bizarre ad copy. Interestingly, the latter had proved a boon to her career.

She walked down the plush corridor toward Gil's office, opened his solid oak door, and stepped in to find the reception desk untended. She was not surprised, knowing that Gil, like the principals at Hook, believed in giving employees a real lunch hour. But usually, when his assistant was out, Gil left his own door open. At the moment, it was firmly shut.

Leigh was not about to waste any more of her time, even if it was comparatively less valuable. She rapped on the door and opened it simultaneously. "Knock, knock. I'm here, Gil. What's—"

She paused in mid phrase with her mouth open.

Gil was standing to the side of his desk. Pressed against him, with her head nestled on his shoulder, was a buxom platinum blonde wearing an off-the-shoulder minidress and three-inch strappy heels. Gil's arms were around her, one hand resting on a bare, tanned shoulder blade.

He looked up at Leigh with the expression of one being seriously put-upon. "Hello," he said flatly.

The woman lifted her head and stared. She appeared to be around Gil's age, although her face was well preserved... or well injected. Jet-black mascara streaked her cheeks; her otherwise perfectly coifed hair was mussed on one side. Despite the raccoon effect, she was a strikingly attractive woman. At least until her eyes narrowed. "Who is
she?"
the stranger croaked, leaning her cheek back on Gil's shoulder again.

Gil put his hands on her arms and set her away from him. "Courtney," he said with exasperation, "this is my wife's cousin, Leigh. We have an appointment now. I'm sorry."

The woman's eyes flickered over Leigh as if she were no more significant than a mosquito. She turned her face back up to Gil, her red lips pouting. "You're throwing me out?"

"I'm afraid so," he answered, eluding her next attempt at a grasp and moving toward the door. "I'm very sorry about Brandon. I know it was a shock to you. But you're a strong woman; you'll get through this. Maybe you should go stay with your family for a while?" Leigh moved away from the door, and Gil held it open.

Courtney's expression melted to a frown. She shot Gil a look of pure resentment. "Maybe I'll just do that. It's nice to know that
somebody
cares!"

Gil uttered a growl low in his throat—one only Leigh could hear. "Of course I care, Courtney," he assured stiffly. "Just not the way you'd like me to. If there's anything
else
I can do for you, let me know. I am sorry for your loss. Truly."

Courtney let out a "humph," wiped her eyes on the side of her hand, and drew herself up straight. She walked to the door with a practiced flounce, displaying her various assets to their fullest. When she pulled up level with Gil at the door, she paused, tilted her strappy heels up to tiptoe, and kissed him full on the lips.

"See you later," she cooed.

Gil growled again, then slammed the door behind her. He walked past Leigh and returned to his desk. "Have a seat," he suggested gruffly.

Leigh remained where she stood.

Gil rubbed his face with his hands, then let out a breath. "Don't start with me, Leigh. Seriously. We're not having this conversation. I know what you saw, but—" he threw her a level, beseeching look. "You
know
better."

Leigh looked back into his magazine-worthy, smoky hazel eyes. He had acted with the utmost propriety ever since she had opened the door, true. How he had acted before then could be another story.

But it wasn't. Leigh had known Gil for almost twenty years, and despite his having ample opportunity to prove the adage that really gorgeous spouses are destined to cheat, he'd shown time and time again, in any number of ways, that he was truly, deeply in love with his wife.

"Yes, I do know better," Leigh said lightly, dropping into a chair. "But it would be a terribly fun conversation, don't you think?"

Gil's lips remained in a perfectly straight line. The man really did have no sense of humor.

Leigh sighed. "I take it that was Brandon Lyle's wife."

He nodded.

"I'm also assuming that you know her pretty well?"

He threw her a hard look. "I've known Courtney since college, same as Brandon. I've never cared for either one of them. Rich parents, spoiled, basically lazy. A well-matched set of reprobates. If you ask me, they deserved each other."

"How long had they been married?" Leigh asked.

"Not long," Gil responded. "Five years, maybe. But they've dated on and off forever. According to Courtney, they tied the knot as a lark when they got rip-roaring drunk in Vegas. According to Brandon, they tied the knot because he needed her money to shore up the loans he took out immediately before they got rip-roaring drunk in Vegas."

Leigh grimaced. "They didn't divorce, though."

"No," Gil replied. "Being rip-roaring drunk, they neglected to sign a pre-nup, which meant Courtney was stuck. At least legally. Last I heard, she was living with a twenty-seven-year-old African dancer in Chicago. You just saw for yourself how devoted she was to Brandon."

Leigh nodded. Her tone turned serious. "If all that's true, Courtney is bound to be a prime suspect. She seems to have as much motive as anyone. That's got to be good for your case."

Gil's face flickered with distress. "I'm sure she's being considered. But I'm also sure she didn't do it. I can hardly root for the police to hassle her just to get them off my back."

"How do you know she didn't do it?"

He shook his head dismissively. "I don't have any proof. I just know her. She's mischievous and shallow, but she's not evil. The tears you saw earlier were real enough; she's mourning Brandon in her own way, even if she didn't love him. But to pull out a gun and shoot someone? No, never. I'm telling you, she doesn't have it in her."

Leigh sat silently for a moment, mulling. How good a judge of female character was Gil? The fact that he had married Cara was a point in his favor. And once, well before that, he had even asked Leigh out. The man had to have some discernment.

"The reason I asked you here," he said suddenly, standing, "is Cara. I'm in enough trouble with the police already, as you know. I can handle that; I'm convinced we can all weather this just fine, with a little patience. But Cara can't seem to let it go. She wants to
do
something. And I don't mean just trying to substantiate my alibi. I'm afraid she's going to do something else, something... desperate."

Leigh sat up a little. She would like to assuage Gil's fears, assure him his wife would never do anything foolish in pursuit of what she considered to be her husband's best interests. But they both knew she'd be lying.

"I agree," she said flatly. "But as far as I know, she hasn't come up with any bright ideas yet. Do you know of something?"

Gil's teeth clenched, making a muscle pop in his square jaw line. "I'm afraid so. She's fixated on Diana Saxton. For some reason, she thinks the woman has it in for me, which is ridiculous. Diana went ballistic on the phone yesterday, true, and I was worried that she might babble the same nonsense to the detectives and make the whole situation worse for me. But she was understandably upset; she'd only just heard that Brandon was murdered! Now that she's had a chance to calm down and think things through, she'll realize how out of line she was to accuse me. She's high strung, but she's not irrational. The idea that she would coldly plot against me now is ludicrous. Our relationship was always polite and civil, at least up until I got short with her on the phone the other night when she was looking for Brandon—and that was my fault. As I've told Cara over and over again, despite the awkward circumstances, Diana and I parted ways very professionally."

Leigh slumped in her chair. So much for the understanding women thing. "What is it you think Cara's going to do?"

He began to pace. "I don't know. I don't know if she knows—yet. But sooner or later, she'll think of something. And the worst thing she could do, the absolute worst, is to try and confront Diana herself."

An image of such a meeting popped into Leigh's head. She winced. "That wouldn't be pretty," she agreed.

"It would be disastrous," Gil stated. "Can you imagine how a prosecutor would look at something like that? But what worries me more is the danger to Cara herself. And I don't mean from Diana—she's harmless. But
someone
killed Brandon Lyle, and that someone is still out there. Who knows what Cara could put her foot into? I don't want her involved!"

Leigh looked up into Gil's earnest, troubled face, and knew that his fears were justified. Cara would walk over hot coals for him. "What do you want me to do?"

"That's simple," Gil said with relief, sitting back down. "All I want you to do is make sure she stays with the Pack. No matter how much she wants to help me, she would never put the children at risk. If she's responsible for them, she'll stay put. I know the two of you have a schedule, and you usually trade off, but I was thinking maybe you could tell her you had something urgent come up at work, and that you need her to pick up the slack. At least for the next couple weeks? You won't even have to lie to her. I'll give you the work. I can easily scrounge up two weeks' worth of stuff that the firm needs to have done, and I'll pay Hook's going rate. Please, Leigh?"