Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (31 page)

“What?” Trent asks.

“Nonna found the knife,” Brody replies. “Noelle, I’m puttin’ you on speakerphone.”

“Oh, yay!” I snap. “Nonna went on a mission because she heard you, Trent, talkin’ to Dad about the murder weapon. Now, her crazy ass has found it and it’s in a goddamn Ziploc in her purse in my car.”

“You picked it up?” Trent yells. “Are you fuckin’ insane?”

“No, I didn’t pick it up. Nonna did, and she used a latex glove! Now, get your goddamn asses down to the inn and deal with this shit so I can go home.”

“You let her do it?”

“Have you tried to stop her?” I bite back. “Are you comin’ here or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re on our way. Don’t go anywhere,” he orders.

“Oh, no. I make it a habit to run around with a fucking
murder weapon
on my person!” On that, I hang up and drop my phone in my door. “Nonna, you’re a nightmare.”

“
Si
.” She grins, not a care in the world.

Of course she doesn’t care. In her eyes, she’s done the town a service by having found this knife. Plus, really, who’s gonna rip her a new one for doing it? That’s right. No one. We’ve all seen what she can do with that cane.

It feels like the longest few minutes while we wait for the police to get here. Mostly because I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Nor can I shake the serious case of “ick” I’ve got going on from knowing I’m in possession of the weapon that killed Wally.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been in possession of one before. A murder weapon, that is. I have a general weapon strapped to my freakin’ ankle.

At any rate, I’m gonna have to get my car professionally cleaned just so I can remove the icks.

Because ick.

Trent’s police cruiser pulls up in front of my car, followed by a few more and a forensics van. When I see Trent getting out, I get out of my car too, holding Nonna’s purse. I hold it out to him without a word, and he takes it.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe this,” he mutters.

“Then tell it to Nonna.” I lean against my car. “I pulled over to text Drake and found her here thinking she was Hercule Poirot or something.”

“You’re going right through the fictional detectives today, aren’tcha?” He pulls the Ziploc bag out of the purse and looks at it. “Do you know where she found it?”

“Yes. Madam Poirot left a little white flag to mark the spot.”

He meets my eyes. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed or alarmed.”

“Join the club,” I mutter. “Want me to take you there?”

“Please.” He hands the knife off to a member of the forensics team as Brody joins us. “Go in and speak to Lenny. Let him know what’s going on and that we’re cordoning off the immediate woodlands while we search. There may be other evidence around here.”

“Didn’t you do the woods before?”

Trent slides his gaze to mine. “No. We only just found out yesterday that the knife we found at the scene wasn’t the murder weapon. We were coming back to search the inn’s gardens, but we didn’t consider the woods yet.”

“Well, thank Nonna. Or put her on house arrest. Either one is acceptable. Come on. I’ll show you where we found it.” I open my car door and poke my head in. “Nonna, I’m locking you in. Don’t think about going anywhere.”

“How-a can I if-a I’m locked in-a?”

“Exactly.” I purse my lips and hit the button for her window to crack it an inch. There—now she won’t suffocate, at least.

“What is she, a dog?” Brody asks, his lips pulled up on one side.

“She could use an obedience class,” I retort, hitting the button on my keys and heading back for the path that’ll lead to the ground. “Y’all got a flashlight? It’s dark back there.”

“Peters!” Trent yells. “Flashlight!”

“And we’ll need the key for the padlock on the gate. Nonna picked it.”

“How the hell does Nonna know how to pick a lock?”

“Not a damn clue.” I lead them back to the gate after Trent demanded that Peters send Lenny back to the gate to let us through.

He appears a few seconds later, and the white-haired, pot-bellied sweetheart of a man opens the gate, shock dancing across his features. Brody asks him to stay in the inn while they secure the area, and we go to the spot where Nonna found it.

Trent turns the flashlight on and hands it to me.

I murmur a, “Thank you,” and shine it at the ground.

Luckily our path is still visible in the woodland debris, and it doesn’t take long to make it to the spot Nonna marked.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Brody laughs, resting his hand against a tree and covering his face. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m talkin’ to Dad. She needs professional help.” I fold my arms across my chest and wait as Trent pulls a pair of gloves from his pocket and snaps them on.

“Shine the light on it, Noelle,” he orders, bending down.

I’m not appreciating his bossiness, but okay. I can’t be bothered to fight right now. I aim the flashlight at it, and he carefully moves some leaves and stuff around.

“Brody, do you have an evidence bag?” He holds a leaf up and looks over his shoulder.

“Actually, I do. I came prepared.” Brody pulls one out of his pocket and holds it open for Trent to put the leaf in it.

I can’t see it, but I’m guessing it has blood on it.

I’m surprised, but I’m not at the same time. The heavy coverage of the tall, thick trees means not much rain will have been able to break through them and wash the evidence away.

Trent puts a few more bits of bloodied debris into the bag then stands up and pulls his gloves off. He takes a deep breath that makes his shoulders heave then looks at me on his exhale. His jaw is tight, his lips drawn into a thin line, but behind his solid stare is a glimmer of hope.

It’s the first time I’ve seen anything that tells me he doesn’t want Gianna to be convicted.

“Well,” he says in a low voice, sliding his fingers through his hair. “Nonna’s little search party has done one of two things: Either she’s saved Gianna’s ass or she’s fucked it.”

And, if it’s the latter, I’d bet no lube was used.

Excellent.

By the time I’ve filled Drake in on the events of the afternoon at my office, he’s equal parts pissed that I didn’t call him before we went on our discovery mission and happy that there may be something that will help us prove his mom’s innocence.

Of course, like Trent said, it may also prove her guilt.

At this point, I don’t know what to believe.

I just hope beyond all hope that there’s an identifiable fingerprint on the knife somewhere. One that preferably is not Gianna’s. That’s probably her only real “out” now.

“You still haven’t told me why you wanted to know what car Kat drives,” Drake reminds me, screwing the cap on his empty water bottle and leaning over my desk to throw it into the trash can.

“Do I need to?” I look up from my phone, and the look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. “All right, all right.” I sigh. “I think the money is a genuine motive for Wally’s death, so I want to do what I do best and follow Kat for a day or two, except my grand plan failed before it’d started because she checked out of the Oleander and the girl at the reception desk didn’t know where she’d gone.”

He sits back down and, scratching his cheek, smiles widely. “And you didn’t think to drive by Wally’s house?”

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Huh. I guess that would have been a good idea, right? That would make the most sense.

“Is the house hers now?”

Drake shrugs. “There was no reading of the will, only Kat having a private meeting with his attorney, so yeah, I’d say she inherited everything he owned.”

“Oh.” I put my phone right down and lock it so Candy Crush can’t distract me any longer. “Including one hundred percent of a business that’s about to fold.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t already. That’s a helluva lot of debt to be in for a business still running.”

“Right. What I want to know is how she’s gotten away with it for so long without Wally noticing or the bank catching up to her.”

“I don’t think Wally had a hand in it. He was still a part owner, but from what Mom’s said, he had enough money saved, plus his pension, so money never occurred to him. He trusted Kat implicitly to run it.”

“I guess he never felt like he needed to check up on her... Although it doesn’t make sense, you know? I could sign Bond P.I. over to Dad tomorrow, and I’d still want to keep an eye on the finances and the running. Even every three to six months, but definitely around tax time.”

“Me too. I don’t know, sweetheart. I think Wally worked so hard for so long, traveling all around the country, that he just wanted an easy time of it. He stayed a partial owner, although barely, and washed his hands of it.” Drake rests his elbows on his knees. “Do you think he knew about the life insurance policy?”

“Well, I don’t know how someone could take out such a large amount of money without the person it was taken out on not knowing about it, but then again, I don’t know much about insurance policies.” I nibble the corner of my thumb. “His signature is on the final policy, but it could be a forgery, I guess.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think Kat is that kind of person.”

“You never do. When I was investigating a missing-persons case in Dallas as a rookie, we met this guy who was a friend of the family of the missing kid, and I was one hundred percent sure he was the person responsible. He had that look, ya know? Big, scary, tattoos all over, but turned out he was innocent and owned a fucking pet rescue center.”

Drake laughs. “Wow. That’s one hell of a mix-up.”

“Yeah. I’m thankful I never told anyone my theory.” I half smile. “So people aren’t always what you think they are. Look at Marshall. The kid had no life, and if it weren’t for the paint on his jacket that day, I never would have thought my geeky tech guy was a sadistic murderer.”

“I don’t think anyone would have. He fooled everyone there,” Drake agrees. “Can we look up the policy thing? I usually get people to get me that information.”

I roll my eyes and pull my laptop in front of me. Of course he gets that information provided for him. God forbid the lead homicide detective actually do a Google search for something so basic.

Can I take a life insurance policy out on someone without their knowledge?
I type into the search bar and hit enter. Hundreds of thousands of hits pop up, but I click on the first link as the preview part makes it look like it might have the answer. I scan the page, but when it doesn’t answer my question, I go back and click the second link.

“Aha.” I tap my fingernails against my laptop as this link comes up good.

“What?”

“So,” I start, reading, “it’s doable but really hard to take one out without the person it’s on knowing about it. Apparently, most companies call a few weeks after the policy is taken out to combat fraud, but it would be possible for Kat to be the holder and beneficiary because she has a financial interest in her father’s life as both his daughter and technically a business partner.”

“That doesn’t answer our question, babe.”

“I know that, but I’m reading still. Stop rushing me.”

“Sure. You can read those BuzzFeed articles like they’re nothing more than those stupid quotes you save on Pinterest, but an article like this and it’s an encyclopedia?”

I grab my pen and throw it at him. He catches it, laughing, and I shoot him a glare before I finish reading the article.

“It doesn’t really say much more, but I remember watching this episode of
Forensic Files
—”

“Of course you do.”

“—and the husband had a life insurance policy on his wife, and he’d upped the value of it a few weeks before he killed her. So, if Wally knew about the original policy and Kat was the holder, which I think she is, then she’d technically be able to increase its payout without him needing to know.”

“Great. Any chance you can find out if she’s the holder?”

Now, I remember why I hate working with him. “Any chance you can pipe the fuck down?”

“Sorry. I’m not used to not being in control.”

“No,” I deadpan. “I’d never have guessed.” I open my drawer and pull out the folder with Wally’s life insurance policy in it. Then I remove it and look. “She’s the holder.”

Drake takes it when I hand it to him and drops his eyes to it. “So she’s the holder and the beneficiary. I wonder if Wally had one on her.”

“Wanna find out?” I push my chair back and get up. I’m not wearing any shoes, so I skip across my office and down the hall to Carlton’s barefoot.

Drake chuckles behind me at my excitement, following me.

“Caaaarrrllllttttooooon!” I sing.

“Oh no,” he mutters, peering up. “I know what that means.”

I can’t help but grin. “Can you find out if there’s a life insurance policy on Katherine Thornton and who holds it?”

He whips out three sheets of paper stapled together and holds it out to me, looking back down at his laptop screen. “Way ahead of you. I pulled it earlier today when you went out. I also pulled her rental license plate.”

“Uh…thanks. You could have called me.” I take the sheets from his hand and drop my eyes. “Next time, call me.”