The Big Keep: A Lena Dane Mystery (Lena Dane Mysteries) (29 page)

Conrad stood up abruptly and turned away from me, looking out the window behind his desk. I let him. Finally he turned back around, and his eyes had started to bug out a little with fury. “
Jason
,” he spat, “was cheating on my sister with half the women in LA. Actresses, catalogue models, store clerks. He couldn’t keep it in his pants.” He shook his head in revulsion. “I don’t know what they saw in him. I can only assume he promised them parts in the movies he was sure to make.”

“And you put up with that?”

“Yes, I did!” Conrad burst out. “I knew for months, but I tolerated him because he made my sister happy, and she didn’t have a clue. I thought it would run its course and either Starla would find out, or Jason would stop. Those were the only two outcomes.”

“You have insurance, right Conrad?” I said casually.

“What? Why—yes, I have insurance.” He sat back down in his chair, a little confused.

“What about your sister? Do Starla and the kids have insurance?”

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

“I’m sure you don’t, but please answer the question.”

“Yes. I took out policies for Starla and the kids, and I pay for their health insurance. I have a guy.” That last sentence just slid so comfortably off his tongue, and for a moment Conrad looked back on firmer ground.

“A guy?”

He waved a hand. “You know. An insurance guy.”

“Jason had kind of an inflated sense of self-importance, didn’t he? Guy kind of thought the world revolved around him.”

He looked at me suspiciously, but I kept my face even, and he finally nodded. “I completely agree.”

“So was it Jason’s idea to take out a big dramatic insurance property while he was writing a screenplay about a killer, or was that your suggestion?”

Conrad remained silent. I, on the other hand, snorted. “That’s it, isn’t it? You sent him to your guy. Probably even gave him the money for the policy.”

Conrad flinched, twitching his shoulders like there was a target on his back. Jackpot. “Even if I did, that means nothing,” Conrad insisted.

“By itself, no. But you were also having Jason investigated. You knew he had a plane ticket to Chicago, didn’t you? Did you know he once had a family there, and you figured he was going back to them, or did you just figure he was having a transcontinental affair? Either way, you decided you’d had enough of the guy, am I right?”

Conrad had been getting panicky-face, but now his expression went back to smug. “I have an alibi for when Jason was killed. I was out of the country. There’s a passport, witnesses, everything.” He raised a cocky eyebrow at me, pleased as punch. I tried not to feel all crushed.

“You have an insurance guy, right, Conrad? Do you have any other guys? A suit guy, maybe, or a car guy?” I leaned forward, even though it hurt my stomach a little. “Tell me, Conrad, do you have a murder guy?”

Conrad’s face hardened, and he reached for his desk drawer, where I was guessing he had a loaded gun. I was faster, though, and I already had my bag next to me and unzipped. I darted my hand in, got a grip on the Browning, swung it up to Conrad, and cocked the safety.
 

And then Nate burst into the room, looking panicked.
 

36. Just Dumb Luck

Nate was not much of a runner, but despite the sand dragging him down and his bare feet, he was flying. He darted through the alley and along the path that led back to Starla’s brother’s house and his head was full of Lena’s voice saying, “Who would benefit?” It wasn’t Starla, because she’d loved Jason so much, but Conrad was her brother. He must have hated the way that Jason treated his little sister. Enough to think killing Jason was worth the cost of Starla grieving for him. And now Lena was alone with Conrad, and she had the baby, and why couldn’t he run any faster?

Nate finally arrived at the house and stopped dead, practically making skid marks in the pavement. It hurt his feet, and Nate distantly realized that his shoes were back on the beach. It didn’t matter. He crept to the front door, praying that it wouldn’t be locked, and quietly turned the brass handle. The door glided open on well-oiled hinges, and Nate left it open behind him. He snuck over to the door to Conrad’s office, off the main entryway, and put his ear against the wood. There was some talking, and then Nate heard Lena make a surprised noise and he turned the knob and ran again.

She was alive, thank God, and he felt a crash of relief before he realized that she had her gun out and was pointing it at Starla’s brother, who was pointing a gun at Lena, too. Conrad swung the gun towards Nate for a second, and his stomach churned up into his throat.

“Hey, asshole,” Lena said quietly, staring at Conrad. She seemed so calm. “He’s a kid, and he’s unarmed. POINT THE GUN AT ME!”

The anger in her voice made Conrad startle, and he twisted his body back to point the gun’s muzzle at Lena. Nate took a step farther in the room, unsure of what to do.

“Nate, take three steps backward and leave this room,” Lena said evenly.
 

Conrad opened his mouth to say something, but Nate said it first. “I’m not leaving you.”

Her smile was grim. Not even a smile, really. “I was afraid you might say that. Then go over there and get down behind that bookcase.”

Nate crouched down and duck-walked past the two of them, staying out of the line of fire. He squatted down behind a large oak bookshelf, keeping an eye on Conrad.

“So, Conrad, what’s your plan now?” Lena asked. “I already know that you killed Jason and why, so the only sensible thing is to turn yourself in.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Conrad hissed at her. Nate saw that he was trying to look dignified, but his eyes were wild.
 

Lena somehow shrugged without moving the gun at all. “Had him killed, then.”

“I didn’t do that either,” Conrad growled. “I just...thought about it.”

Lena raised her eyebrows skeptically. “You just
thought
about it?”

“I—I hired a guy, okay? We had a plan, I gave him the money, and then he just—” Conrad’s voice was getting panicky and fast, and his face was tomato red. Nate could hardly understand what he was saying. “He left town!”

Lena’s jaw dropped open. “Conrad. Tell me you didn’t pay him the whole amount up front.”
 

Conrad’s face darkened even further, practically purple now. “His wife said he went to Canada! How the fuck was I supposed to know? I’d never paid someone to kill a guy before.”

A quick, bright laugh escaped from Lena’s lips. “But if you didn’t kill him,” she pointed out, “Why are you pointing a gun at me right now?”
 

Conrad looked at the pistol in his hands, as if it had just sprouted out of his fingers. “I—I panicked,” he mumbled. “There’s a paper trail...the cash I took out for him...” He trailed off, waving his free hand helplessly.

Nate glanced back at Lena, saw her studying the other man. Finally, she said. “My gun’s getting heavy, Conrad. What do you say we lower them at the same time, nice and slow, while we finish our conversation?”

Conrad licked his lips and nodded, a little gratefully. Nate watched him as he slowly put the gun down.

“Let’s say I believe you,” Lena said to Conrad. “But Jason was killed. So how do you know your guy didn’t come through after all?”

“Because,” Conrad cried, “He was supposed to let me know it was going to happen so I could make sure I had an alibi. It was just dumb luck that I was out of the country!”

“Why did you want to kill my dad?” Nate said quietly. It was the first time he’d spoken since he’d refused to leave the room. He hadn’t wanted to remind either of them that he was still in there, but he needed to know the answer.

Conrad’s eyes narrowed at him. “Your dad was an asshole, kid. That slime went around showing off his affairs, right in front of my sister’s nose. You’re better off with the dying one.”

Nate saw surprise bloom on Lena’s face. “You knew? You knew about Nate and Tom?”

Conrad snorted. “Of course I knew. I knew everything about that piece of trash.”

Lena tensed. “You could have stopped
all
of this by telling Jason about Nate’s situation.”

Conrad shrugged, completely unrepentant. “I assumed that he knew, and was laying the groundwork to move back. And dump my sister, or worse, drag her along with him. This was much better.”

“Oh yeah, this worked out great,” Lena said sarcastically. “And you did a just super job of hiring someone else to do the unpleasant part. But if you didn’t kill Jason Anderson, who did?”

The voice came from the doorway. “That would be me.”

37. Something You Still Need

I went still, looking at the doorway. The face was unfamiliar, but I recognized the gravelly voice. The man who had attacked me in LA was standing in the doorway looking like a frickin’ gunslinger, with a pistol in each hand. As he stepped into the room, he made sure that one was pointed at Conrad, and the other at my head. The guy was six feet tall, and from the neck up he was homely as sin, with a long hooked beak of a nose, ears that stuck out, and a long thin neck. It didn’t match the rest of him, which was muscled and lean, despite his age, which had to be a little over fifty.

I realized that he couldn’t see Nate, who was still hiding behind the bookshelf. “Put the gun down slowly,” he ordered. I complied, setting the gun on the carpet by my feet. It took some effort, and didn’t look particularly graceful, but I managed to get it there without falling on my ass.

“Who the fuck are-” Conrad boomed, and the shooter barely glanced at him as he pulled a trigger, shooting Conrad in the heart. Conrad tippled forward, splaying across the desk.

“That guy gets on my nerves,” he told me calmly.

I swallowed, forcing myself to keep my eyes from darting over to Nate. “I can see that.”
 

“What? No smart remark this time? No taunt?” the shooter asked smugly. He had come all the way into the room, nearly behind the desk, and I could see him nudge at something with a foot, glancing down quickly. Making sure Conrad was dead.

“I can see why you have a mask, with a face like that. You should consider wearing it all the time, just for aesthetic purposes.”

“That’s better.”
 

“I’m assuming you plan to kill me.”
 

“You’re correct,” he said calmly. “It’s your own fault, though. I warned you to back off.” Raising his voice a little, he added, “And you can come out too, kid. I heard you from the hall.”

I kept my eyes on the shooter. Nate didn’t move. That’s my boy. “Kid, if I have to come looking for you, I’m gonna put a bullet in her shoulder first.”

Nate stood up, looking deathly pale, but defiant. “I’m here,” he said.
 

“Go stand by your friend,” the guy ordered. “Keep your hands away from your body.”
 

When Nate and I were side by side the shooter put one pistol in a shoulder holster, keeping the other one trained on me. “Now, let’s see,” he said thoughtfully. “Conrad pulled a gun, intending to kill you and the kid so that the kid wouldn’t horn in on the inheritance. You shot first, but he shot a moment later, killing both of you.” The shooter nodded to himself. “Yeah, it works.”

Shit. “Nate’s got nothing to do with this,” I protested. “He’s just a kid.”
 

The shooter tut-tutted at me, shaking his head. “That’s not gonna fly any more, Selena. You let him tag along on your case, squired him all over Chicago. What did you think was going to happen?”

“Let him go,” I pleaded. “He’s not going to be able to identify you.”

“Lena,” Nate muttered, “Who is this guy?”
 

The shooter gave me a sardonic look, challenging me to be smart enough to figure it out. The look reminded me of someone, and suddenly the last few pieces fell into place in my mind. “Nate, meet Mason Taper’s partner.”

“Very good,” the guy said approvingly.
 

“Except Taper never killed women or children,” I added. “And this guy has no problem with it.”
 

He didn’t like that at all. “Do you think this is how I wanted this to go?” he demanded. “I’m a soldier, not a monster. I tried to get you to drop the investigation, didn’t I?”

“What’s your name?” I asked. The shooter gave me a withering look. Okay, so we weren’t going to be friends. “I think I’m going to call you Ricardo. You look like a Ricardo.”

An anxious chuckle escaped Nate’s lips. It’s good to have a sidekick. I glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. How long would Starla and the kids wait at the beach before they came to check on us? Maybe when Ricardo heard Starla come in he’d be distracted enough for me to rush him. But Ricardo read my mind again. “If you’re waiting for the bimbo, forget about it.” He pulled a small rectangular object out of his pocket and held it up. It was a sleek black iPhone. “Conrad just texted her to say you all needed some more time together and maybe she could take the kids for ice cream.”

My heart sank, but I wasn’t done yet. “You haven’t shot us yet, so I’m assuming there’s something you still need from me,” I said evenly.

“I want the rest of the screenplay, all the notes,” he snapped. “And I want to know how Anderson found out about me.”

That was actually a good question. My thoughts flew, putting pieces together as fast as I could. “Taper told him,” I said softly. “He told Jason about having an accomplice.”
 

Ricardo shook his head, not believing me. “Thirty years in prison, and Mason’s never said a word about having an apprentice. Why would he start now?”

“Because he really hated Jason,” I said aloud. “He thought Jason was a slimy little worm, for offering to use Taper’s history with his father to sell a screenplay. Taper couldn’t touch him from prison, but he knew that if you found out about the screenplay, you would do it for him.”

Ricardo was still for a moment, digesting this, and then he let out a bark of laughter. “That’s just like him,” he said, shaking his head. “The old man was bored in prison, so he sets up a little game. Either I kill the obnoxious dickhead for him, or the obnoxious dickhead makes a pile of money making Mason a household name. And Mason wins either way.” He had relaxed his arm to his waist, keeping the gun pointed at us, but now he extended his arm again. “And the treatment?”