See No Evil (21 page)

Gray dropped the key into my palm and climbed into the car where he rested his head against the seat back. “Dorothy was an accountant, not a financial planner or a stockbroker. She didn't make money for her clients. She kept track of where it went, largely for tax purposes.”

“Maybe she helped him hide money from the IRS.”

Gray thought for a few minutes while I turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb. “You'd need a forensic accountant to uncover something like that.”

“When we get back to Freedom's Chase, we can tell the sergeant our suspicions. We can also give him that name Ken mentioned.”

T
he Sergeant was not happy with us when we arrived at Freedom's Chase.

“What do you mean calling in a crime like this and then disappearing?” he yelled, his craggy face one massive scowl.

“We thought we could follow the murderer.” Gray shrugged. “He got away.”

“But we know who it wasn't,” I offered before the sergeant could yell at us some more. “It wasn't Ken Ryder.”

“And you know this how?”

I squirmed under his irate gaze. “We went to his house.”

The sergeant just closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Preserve me from amateurs.”

I ignored his poor attitude. “You might be interested in knowing he's on his way to the airport with Starr Goodnight.”

“Going to Grand Cayman, is he?” Poole asked.

Gray and I looked at each other in astonishment.

“You know about his house there?” I couldn't believe it.

“As husband of a murdered spouse, he was our first suspect. He's been thoroughly investigated and is guilty of nothing more than being a two-timing louse.”

“But the money? He bought here—” I swept my hand to
indicate Freedom's Chase, “—and he bought there. We're talking close to three-quarters of a million.”

“Legacy from an uncle.” Poole lifted his foot and looked at the hole in the sole of his shoe. “Wish I had an uncle like that.”

“Me, too.” I felt deflated and dumb. I'd been so sure Ken had been cooking the dealership's books.

“Now tell me exactly what you saw here tonight.” The sergeant had his trusty notebook in hand.

We did, describing the two people, two cars, one of which, a black Jeep, was still parked against the curb. Crime scene guys were going over it, the scene brightly lit by the klieg lights once again.

Gray finished his recounting of what we'd seen with, “So we tried to follow the car, but we lost it.”

“Mind telling me why you were here in the first place?” Poole asked.

“Checking the supply shed,” Gray said. “You know we've been having trouble with petty theft.”

Poole studied Gray for a minute. “Not too smart bringing Anna here, was it?”

“I couldn't leave her at home. Both Lucy and Meg were out for the evening. I didn't think the killer would be looking for her here.”

If the sergeant suspected there was more to our being here, he didn't pursue the topic. “You two go home. There's nothing more you can do here tonight.”

“We've got a name for you to check out,” Gray said. “We asked Ken who had bought black cars from his dealership recently, and he gave us a list of names, at least those he could recall.”

The sergeant looked mildly interested.

“Hal Reddick.”

“The builder?” Skepticism laced his voice.

I nodded. “Black BMW, slim individual like was here tonight, used Windle, Boyes, Kepiro and Ryder as his accountants.”

“Boyes was his regular CPA, but he's got cancer, so Dorothy was filling in. Maybe she found something criminal,” Gray suggested.

Poole shook his head. “You two watch way too much TV. First of all, owning a black BMW, being slim, and using a certain accounting firm aren't grounds for an investigation. Secondly, I've got real clues to deal with.” He looked around the crime scene. “I think I'll stick to them.” He turned and started away, then stopped and looked back. “Be careful, Edwards. Accusations like that can sound very personal and vindictive.”

I knew he was referring to Reddick Construction and Edwards Inc, duking it out for the Amhearst reconstruction job. “But Gray won.”

“Still.” He turned away and waggled a hand negligently in our direction. “Good night. Glad you're free, Anna.”

“I guess he told us,” Gray said, a quick laugh escaping. “And he's right about it maybe looking vindictive on my part.”

“But you won!”

“Still, I think we'd better give up any PI aspirations and stick to sewing and building.”

I nodded and climbed into Gray's car for the trip back home. I felt all kinds of weird, my emotions tumbling and churning, about as stable as the water at the base of Niagara Falls.

On the one hand I was free from the stalking fear I'd lived with for a week, and that felt terrific. I didn't have to worry about someone shooting at me or attacking me or one of my friends. I could sleep soundly and go places without a police
bodyguard. I could clean up the basement and get back to work without worry that someone would strike again.

On the other hand I'd gotten to like having Gray around. What if he didn't feel anything for me but his Sir Galahad tendencies? Now that I was safe, he could move on with a clear conscience. He could bury himself in his work, live with his cell glued to his ear and his PDA attached permanently to his palm. He could wash his hands and his T-shirts of the woman who made him bleed all the time.

We rode in silence for a while until my favorite house appeared. Outside spotlights lit it. I pointed. “That's where the Reddicks live.”

Gray slowed and studied the place briefly. “Quite a showplace. With all that property it must be worth a million to a million and a half.”

“I didn't realize contracting was so lucrative.”

Gray shrugged. “We do all right.”

Silence fell again as I brooded.

“Well, it's all over,” Gray said as he pulled up our drive.

Exactly what I was afraid of! He parked, turned and gave me a friendly smile, an I'm-your-good-buddy smile. I wanted to weep.

“You don't seem very happy, Anna. I expected you to be jumping up and down now that this mess was over.”

“That's Lucy's style.”

“True.” He rested his arm along the back of the seat. “Come on. What wrong? Are you upset about the sergeant blowing off our suggestion?”

I shook my head.

“Then what?” He lifted my chin so our eyes met. “You should be all kinds of relieved.”

“Oh, I am.” Even to my ears I sounded forlorn.

“Come on, sugar. Give.”

Sugar. Surely that was hopeful? I studied his handsome face, his beautiful dark eyes. Did I have the nerve to express my inner heart, to bleed on him emotionally? I mean, telling a guy that you think you love him is very risky when he's just said it's all over. But what if I never said anything? What if I just let him walk away? I'd kick myself forever, wondering what might have been. I closed my eyes and semi-leaped.

“Will I see you any more?”

“What?”

I heard the disbelief in his voice and my eyes snapped open. He looked almost angry.

I pulled back until I was leaning against my door, the handle digging into my back. “I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean to put you in a bad position. I appreciate all you did for me. You were great.” I turned to grab the handle and let myself out.

He grabbed my arm and swung me around. I studied the pocket on today's T-shirt, forest-green mottled with crimson.

“Look at me.” It was an order.

“I need to go in,” I mumbled. But he now gripped both my arms, holding me firmly in place.

“Look at me, Anna. Now.”

Taking a deep breath and figuring I couldn't possibly humiliate myself any more, I looked at him. I wanted to shut my eyes again against the heat and intensity of his gaze. His displeasure cut me deeply.

“What makes you think I don't want to see you any more?”

I blinked. “You said it was over.”

“Sure, with the threat, thank God. But not with me.”

“Not with you?” Had I heard him right?

“My name is not Glenn. I am not leaving you.”

“Probably because I don't have a maid of honor waiting in the wings,” I mumbled, making light of what he said
because I was afraid of the hope that unfurled in my chest. It was either be silly or cry.

“Because I know a good thing when I see it.” One hand released my arm and moved to cradle my neck. “I find I've fallen for you, Anna Volente. I'm not certain where all this is taking us, but I know there's something very special between us. Since I met you, I've bled more than ever in my life, I've been shot, and I've worked less than any time in recent memory.”

The tears were moving in. I could feel the tightness in my throat and the burning behind my eyes. “You sure know how to woo a girl.”

“Actually, I do. Four sisters, remember?” He smiled. “How about if you and I go out for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate your liberation?”

“Really?” The tears now sat, ready to overflow. I sniffed. “I was so afraid you'd want to cut and run. Four brothers, remember?” And Glenn.

He bent and kissed me softly. “Tomorrow night? A real date?”

I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my head on his chest. I listened to his heart beat while mine soared and the tears flowed. “I'd love a real date with you.”

He handed me a very rumpled but clean handkerchief, and I mopped at my face. “I'm taking you someplace very special,” he whispered in my ear.

“No bloody T-shirts allowed?”

“None. Dress up for me.”

And I did. I wore my favorite jacket dress, a deep periwinkle, and my black sling-backs. I slipped on a string of pearls that had been Mom's and wore the earrings that matched. When Gray came for me wearing a navy pinstriped suit and a blue-and-red rep tie, I had to swallow fast so I
wouldn't drool. The only thing that saved him from perfection was the lopsided haircut and the still-healing bullet crease on his skull.

During the drive to one of the classiest restaurants I'd ever been to, we talked about our brothers and sisters, telling funny stories and favorite traits. At dinner where the waiter actually wore a tux, we talked about our parents, especially Mom and her early death and Gray's father and the hole he'd left. When the waiter came with the little tray holding the check, it seemed impossible that so much time had passed.

“You know what?” Gray said, his eyes bright and fixed on me even as he fished for his wallet. “I think it's a very good sign that we have plenty to talk about even when there's not a life-threatening emergency hanging over us.”

“A whole evening without calling the police or ducking bullets. Wow!”

“Look, Mom.” He held out his hands. “No blood.”

The waiter who had come to take Gray's card, looked at us strangely. We didn't bother to explain.

“I'm going to run to the ladies' room,” I said.

Gray nodded. “I'll meet you in the lobby.”

The ladies' room was huge, lit for making you look great in the mile-long mirror over the sinks, and full of some glorious fragrance piped in from somewhere. As I washed my hands, a stall door opened and a tall, slim, very well-dressed woman emerged. Our eyes met in the mirror as she set her purse on the counter. She seemed unconcerned that the flap holding it shut wasn't gripping and that some of the contents slid out. She was too busy frowning at me.

“Well, I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you again.” Her voice was clipped and hard. Gray wasn't even with me and the woman sill harbored such an intense dislike for me? How pathetic.

“Hello, Mrs. Reddick. How are you?” Not that I really wanted to know. I just wasn't about to fall to her level. I looked down to make certain the soap was all gone from my hands, and I couldn't help seeing the contents of her purse.

Among the usual paraphernalia of wallet, keys, makeup case and cell phone, she carried a small revolver, one where you could see the cylinder that held the bullets, sort of a small, women's version of the old cowboy guns used for the shootouts at high noon or the OK Corral.

I looked up quickly, studying her carefully made-up face, her huge diamond ear bobs, the great gems on three of her fingers. Nah. She was just an ill-tempered, spiteful rich lady.

“I love your house, by the way.”

She merely inclined her head ever so slightly.

“The fabric in the window treatments in your living room is among the most beautiful I've ever seen.” And it was, a soft mix of greens, lavenders, soft pinks and creamy yellow.

If I'd thought she was hostile before, she was positively glacial now. “How do you know what my living-room drapes look like?”

I smiled sweetly. “I made them for you.”

I thought she might choke.

“In fact I did all your window treatments.”

“Well, I'm sure replacements will be easy to find.”

As I cranked the papertowel machine, I wondered if she'd actually be petty enough to makes those changes simply because I was the needlewoman who had sewn what was currently hanging. No wonder she carried concealed. Half the people she knew were probably gunning for her.