Suspicion (13 page)

  William J. Fox, a small, nervous man with a twitch above his right eye, gave her a look of alarm. "Why not? This isn’t premeditated murder. It isn’t even murder. I killed Ben in self-defense."

  "I know you did, but the U.S. attorney doesn’t see it that way. His theory is that you panicked when your boss confronted you about the missing funds and you killed him. The money, which you claim you don’t have, makes you a high flight risk. And high flight risks seldom get bail."

  Fox’s nervous twitch began working double-time as he glanced from Kate to the uniformed guard standing at the door. Although his stubbornness about the money was making Kate’s job more difficult, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man. Accused of killing his boss and of embezzling $1.3 million, the president of Vanco Labs hadn’t had more than a couple hours’ sleep since his arrest twenty-four hours ago. Unshaven and exhausted, he looked ten years older than his forty-eight years.

  "That money is mine," Fox protested, more or less

  admitting for the first time that he’d taken it. "I was supposed to get it as a bonus over a period of ten years and never did."

  Grateful for this small progress, Kate leaned forward. "I understand that." She talked softly, unthreateningly. "But holding on to it is going to do you more harm than good."

  "Can you guarantee me an acquittal if I return it?"

  "No, but your chances would be much greater if you did. No jury in the world is going to sympathize with a man who stole $1.3 million from his company."

  After what seemed like an eternity, Fox’s thin shoulders sagged. "All right," he whispered, falling back against his chair. "I guess I don’t have much of a choice." He looked up, his eye giving one final twitch. "But I’m sticking to my original plea. Not guilty by reason of self defense. Ben charged me like a bull. I had to stop him or he would have killed me."

  Before Kate could breathe a sigh of relief, her cellular phone rang. Excusing herself, she pulled it out of her open briefcase and took the call. It was from Rose.

  "Kate, I know this is short notice, but can you meet me for lunch? I need to discuss something with you."

  Kate was filled with sudden anxiety. Had Alison decided to stay with the Fairchilds on a permanent basis and sent Rose to deliver the news? She hadn’t said anything when Kate had dropped off her clothes earlier. In fact, Alison had been almost friendly and very excited at the prospect of returning to Sawmill Academy.

  Not wanting to hear the bad news in front of her client, Kate resisted the urge to question Rose further. "Lunch would be difficult today," she replied, trying to sound calm. "But I could meet you for a quick cup of coffee at Union Station. Say in about an hour?"

  "That’s perfect."

  Kate tucked the phone back in her briefcase and stood up. "I’ll contact the U.S. attorney right away," she told Fox as he pushed his chair back. "With a little luck, I’ll be able to schedule a bail hearing before the end of the day." She nodded at the guard, indicating she was ready to leave. "I’ll let you know what happens as soon as I hear something." Catching her client’s worried gaze, she added, "You made the right decision, Mr. Fox. Now why don’t you try to get some rest."

  She left the jail wishing that all her cases were that simple.

  It was exactly ten-thirty when Rose, looking lovely in a red wool suit, walked into the International Cafe in Union Station and made her way toward Kate’s booth.

  "I’m so glad you could meet me," she said, removing her black leather gloves and setting them on the table. "I would have talked to you earlier, but with Douglas there when you arrived, and Alison, and all the servants…" She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "We wouldn’t have had any privacy anyway."

  "Alison isn’t giving you any trouble, is she?" Kate watched Rose closely, almost hoping for an affirmative answer.

  But Rose smiled and shook her head. "Oh, no. She’s no problem at all. By the way, Flora is thrilled to have her back at Sawmill Academy. She’d always thought highly of Alison."

  Kate tried to hide her disappointment. "I’m glad. I know she has a way of getting on Douglas’s nerves at times."

  Rose picked up the mug of cappuccino Kate had ordered ahead of time and took a small sip of the fragrant

  concoction. "Well, you needn’t worry. She’s been the perfect little granddaughter."

  Kate braced herself for the worst. "Then you didn’t call me here to complain about her."

  "No." Rose took another sip of her coffee, watching Kate over the rim of her cup. "Alison told me something rather interesting when I went to tuck her in last night."

  "Oh."

  "She said that Detective Calhoon is in love with you."

  Startled, Kate stared at the older woman. "Where did she get an idea like that?"

  "Watching, listening. You know what a keen observer she is, especially when it comes to grownups."

  "Dear God, is that why she was so upset with me?"

  "It’s one of the reasons."

  "What else did she say?"

  "Oh, the usual, that you shouldn’t have divorced Eric and that everything used to be better. And as you can imagine, she didn’t hide her feelings about Mitch Calhoon. To quote her own words, she hates him."

  "I’ll have to talk to her, then. The poor child. No wonder she was so confused last night."

  "Oh, she’ll be all right, dear. And anyway, it’s not Alison’s feelings that I came to discuss. It’s yours."

  "Mine?" Kate laughed. "Feelings about what?"

  "Detective Calhoon, of course." Rose’s eyes twinkled again. She was definitely enjoying this. "He’s a very handsome man, isn’t he?"

  Oh, no, Kate thought. First Frankie, now Rose. Didn’t they think she knew what she was doing with her life? "Rose, you know that I have no intention of becoming involved again."

  "Because of Alison?"

  "Because of a lot of things, but yes, Alison is the main

  reason. How could I even think of having a relationship with a man she hates?"

  "Oh, in time, Alison would get used to it. I think you’re the one who’s afraid of getting involved. I know it wasn’t easy being married to Eric," she added when Kate remained silent. "But don’t let one bad experience ruin your life, Kate. Alison is thirteen years old. In a few years, she’ll be going to college, starting a life of her own. What will you do then?"

  "I have my career."

  "It won’t be enough, dear. A career, no matter how rewarding, doesn’t keep you warm at night. It doesn’t make you laugh, and it doesn’t have a strong, comforting shoulder to lean on when things get rough."

  Kate couldn’t hold back a smile. "Rose, are you telling me to have an affair with Detective Calhoon?"

  Rose chuckled. "Wouldn’t Douglas fly into a raging fit if he heard that?" She shook her head, serious again. "No, dear, I didn’t come here to tell you to have an affair with Detective Calhoon. I came to tell you to live your life for yourself and not for those around you. I almost let a second chance pass me by once, and if it hadn’t been for my sister who put some sense into my head, I never would have married Douglas."

  "I didn’t know that."

  "Not too many people do." She laughed, a happy, almost girlish laugh. "Douglas likes to think he swept me off my feet, but the truth is, I thought he was overbearing and a tad too full of himself. He still is, of course." Her eyes filled with tenderness. "But now I love him too much to let it matter."

  Kate was relieved that they were no longer discussing Mitch Calhoon. It was bad enough that he kept jumping into her thoughts at the most inopportune times; she didn’t

  need well-meaning friends and colleagues to push her into something she wasn’t ready for.

  Something she would probably never be ready for.

  "Megan, darling," Abigail Hollbrook said in a gently chiding voice, "if you don’t start eating, you’ll wither away like an old prune. You don’t want that, do you?"

  Megan stood looking out her bedroom window, her arms folded beneath her breasts, her beige silk robe tightly cinched around her slender waist. She didn’t care if she withered away. She didn’t care about anything now that Eric was gone.

  "I know what you’re thinking." Abigail’s voice softened as she came to stand beside her daughter. "You think that I don’t understand what you’re going through. But you’re wrong, darling. I know how painful love can be. I was young once, too."

  Megan wanted to laugh. How could her mother possibly understand about love and pain when she had never experienced either? Abigail Hollbrook came from a long line of strong, independent women-women who had carved their place in history without the help of any man. Oh, there had been marriages, but each one of them had been a well-orchestrated business deal, a transaction meant to link one great family fortune to another.

  "This seclusion on your part isn’t doing anyone any good." This time, there was a slight trace of impatience in Abigail’s voice. "Life must go on, Megan, whether you want it to or not."

  Megan felt a sob rise in her throat and held it back. How could she go on when she had that awful cold ache in her heart? When she felt like bursting into tears at the mere mention of Eric’s name?

  "Tess made a mushroom quiche for lunch," Abigail coaxed. "It’s your favorite, isn’t it?"

  "I’m not hungry." Megan’s gaze remained fixed on the same barren oak she had been staring at for the past ten minutes.

  "Why don’t we go for a nice long ride, then? I’m sure Salome would love it." Abigail laughed. "That poor mare is beginning to get cabin fever."

  For a moment, Megan considered the suggestion. Galloping through the countryside with the wind in her face had always helped clear her head. But if she went out, she might miss the call she was hoping for. "I don’t think so, Mother."

  Abigail’s self-control finally snapped. "If you think that spending all your time in this bedroom, waiting for the phone to ring, is going to make it happen, you are deluding yourself. Eric Logan isn’t going to call. And he’s not coming back."

  "You don’t know that!" Megan spun around, her blond hair flying. "And stop hoping I’ll give up on him because I never will. You wouldn’t, either, if you knew him the way I do. But you’ve never even tried to do that, have you? You’ve never wanted to look beneath the surface."

  "Oh, Megan." Abigail’s sigh of despair seemed to rise from her very soul. "How can you be so blind? The man betrayed you. He went to bed with another woman, a prostitute. How can you still defend him after that?"

  "I love him," Megan said simply.

  "Well, he certainly doesn’t love you. If he did, he wouldn’t have taken off with the lowest form of human life and slept with her."

  "That was a mistake. He was drunk."

  Abigail’s laugh was brittle. "Not that drunk, I’m told.

  He knew exactly where he was going that night and with whom."

  Megan gave her a startled look. "How do you know that?" When Abigail looked away, Megan’s eyes widened in shock. "My God, you were having him watched, weren’t you? You hired a private investigator."

  Abigail lifted a proud chin. "Don’t make it sound as though I committed a sin. I did it for your own good."

  "How many times have I told you that I don’t need anyone to look after me? I’m twenty-seven years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself." The anger and frustration Megan had kept bottled up for the past forty-eight hours began to unravel. "How long have you had Eric watched?"

  With a hand that would have been steady under the most trying circumstances, Abigail lightly touched her pearl choker. "Since the day you told me you were going to marry him."

  "Seven months? You’ve had Eric watched and followed for seven whole months? Why, Mother?"

  "Because I never trusted him! And for good reason, wouldn’t you say?"

  "How could you?" Megan shot at her. "Wasn’t it enough that you had him investigated, that every moment of his life, every mistake he’d ever made was laid out for the whole world to see? You had to have him watched, too?" She shook her head in disbelief. "That’s low, Mother."

  "I did it for you," Abigail repeated. "You may hate me for it now, but someday, when you have children of your own, you’ll understand."

  As a thought suddenly dawned on her, Megan frowned. "Wait a minute. If your private investigator was watching

  Eric twenty-four hours a day, then he must know where he was the night of the murder."

  "Monroe was no longer watching him by then."

  "But you said-"

  "After Monroe told me Sunday morning that Eric had spent the night with that woman, I no longer had any need for his services. I had what I wanted."

  "Why didn’t you say something to me then? That was your plan, wasn’t it?"

  "Of course. I had intended to confront Eric in front of you that very morning, but as you recall, the two of you went skiing that day, and on Monday I was tied up in a series of meetings. By the time I was finally free, Eric had disappeared."

  Megan laughed, a small, muffled laugh that sounded perilously like a sob. "You must have been thrilled when Monroe called you with the news. That’s exactly what you had been praying for, wasn’t it?" Normally, the stern look on her mother’s face would have been enough to silence her, but not this time. "And what if he hadn’t strayed?" she asked, her tone sharp and defiant. "Would you have gone so far as to set the stage for him? Would you have put a woman in his path in order to tempt him?"

  "Dear God, Megan, what’s gotten into you?"

  "I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t try to deny it. There is only one thing in this world you hate more than Eric, and that’s the thought of me marrying him. You would do anything for that not to happen." Her eyes remained riveted to her mother. "Perhaps even having Eric framed for murder."