Trust No One (15 page)

T
he bastard wrecked the place,” Millicent announced. “Whoever did this must have been really pissed off when he couldn’t find whatever it was he thought Sprague had hidden here.”

“The cops aren’t sure the intruder had any connection with the murder,” Grace reminded her. “You heard the officer. They think this may have been random. They said it’s quite possible that someone looking for drug money realized the office had been empty for a while.”

“The only things missing are the laptops,” Kristy said. “They’re always prime targets in this kind of thing.”

The three of them were standing in the reception area of the Witherspoon offices. A police officer had taken the inventory of missing items and left a short time ago. Afterward, the management firm that leased the space to the Witherspoon Way had authorized all former employees to pick up any personal possessions they had left behind. A representative of the management company was waiting outside in the hallway to lock up when they were finished.

It was the first time any of them had been allowed back into the office since the day Grace discovered Sprague’s body. Kristy and Grace had brought small cardboard boxes to collect the few things they had left behind in their desks. Millicent had brought along a shiny, hard-sided roll-aboard suitcase.

The yellow crime scene tape had been removed but the office looked as if it had been hit by a whirlwind. Millicent was right, Grace thought. Whoever had ransacked the place must have been furious that there wasn’t more worth stealing.

Sprague had overseen the interior design of his office environment. He had insisted that the space reflect the serene and harmonious inner balance that he urged others to seek. To that end he had hired a designer who had gone all in on a minimalist approach. The palette ran the gamut from gray to off-white. The only touches of color had been the brilliant flowers in the glass vases. Kristy had been assigned the task of replacing the blooms as needed. Sprague had often noted that she had a way with greenery.

The desks in the individual offices were state of the art, designed to conceal the high-tech necessities of the modern corporate world. One swipe at the small control screen on each desktop and the computer, phones and other machines vanished beneath a Zen-smooth surface.

To finish the look, Sprague had brought in a feng shui expert to arrange the furniture so that it was properly oriented. The all-important grounding touches like the little fountain in the corner had also been installed by the expert. The fountain no longer gurgled.

“I wonder why Nyla Witherspoon didn’t remove the laptops, herself,” Millicent said.

“What would she do with them?” Kristy asked. “I can’t see her selling them on eBay.”

“I’ve got a feeling that Nyla has been focused on other things lately,” Grace said.

Kristy hugged herself and shook her head. “I think the cops are right. There probably isn’t a connection between this break-in and what happened to poor Sprague. Grace, I remember you said that there was no sign that the killer took anything from Sprague’s home the night the murder was committed.”

“That’s true,” Grace said. “Although I have to tell you, I did not take the time to look around. I got out of the house as quickly as possible.”

Millicent sniffed. “A very wise move.”

“Still, I don’t recall that anything appeared to have been disturbed,” Grace said. “And there was nothing in the papers about robbery having been a possible motive. If the killer was the same person who ransacked this place, you’d think he would have stolen some of Sprague’s personal valuables, too.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the missing laptops are Nyla’s problem,” Millicent announced. “I assume you heard the rumors about Witherspoon’s little gambling problem?”

“Yes,” Grace said. “But it’s hard to believe he was paying off gambling debts.”

“I can’t believe it, either,” Kristy said.

“Well, I do believe it and it explains a lot,” Millicent said. “It’s also a huge relief to me, I can tell you that. As the company bookkeeper, I was afraid I was at the top of the suspect list when it came to the embezzlement thing. My issues now revolve around job-hunting. I assume you both got the call from Larson Rayner?”

“Yes,” Kristy said. “I’m thinking about it but I’m going to stall until we find out for certain that Larson is cleared of any connection with the murder of Sprague.”

“Larson drove to Cloud Lake to talk to me about a position at Rayner Seminars,” Grace said. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Kristy’s right, it will be easier to make a decision once we know who killed Sprague.”

Millicent laughed. “Unlike you two, I’m not nearly so fussy when it comes to employers. I need a job and Rayner Seminars is set to take over the motivational business in our region. I’m going to grab Larson’s offer.”

Kristy looked down at a heap of dead flowers that had been yanked out of the vase on her desk and dumped on the floor. “What, exactly, are we supposed to do besides collect our own belongings? I hope they don’t expect us to clean up the place.”

The reception desk had once been Kristy’s command post and she had occupied it brilliantly, handling the media as well as the Witherspoon bookings.

“Don’t know about you two,” Millicent said, heading toward her office with the little suitcase, “but if anyone thinks I’m going to tidy up here, they’ve got a surprise coming. The burglar was responsible for the damage, not me. I’m going to clean out my desk.”

She disappeared into her office.

“This is all just so sad,” Kristy said.

She sank into the high-tech office chair and picked up the framed photo of her family that had been knocked facedown on top of the desk. Very carefully she put the picture into her cardboard box.

“Got an affirmation for us, Grace?” Millicent called from the other room.

“How about
Today I will be open to new possibilities
?” Grace suggested. “I used it with the roasted fennel recipe in the cookbook.”

“I hate fennel,” Millicent yelled back.

More drawers banged.

Kristy made a face and angled her head in the general direction of Millicent’s office.

“She’ll do all right,” Kristy said very softly.

Grace smiled. “Probably. Meanwhile, you and I need to remember
that, thanks to Sprague, we’ve got a lot of unique skills to sell to our next employer.”

“Please don’t recite any more Witherspoon affirmations. I want to savor my gloom.”

“Okay,” Grace said.

She went to the doorway of her office and contemplated the chaotic scene. Files had been yanked out of drawers and dumped on the floor. There wasn’t a lot to retrieve, she thought. She had never kept much in the way of personal items in her workplace. There wasn’t room for that sort of thing in a minimalist environment.

She set the cardboard box on the desk and started to pack up her few personal possessions—the large coffee mug emblazoned with the Witherspoon Way logo, the blue wrap that she kept in the bottom desk drawer for those days when the building HVAC system wasn’t working well, a pair of sneakers that she wore on her lunch break when she went to the nearby dog park to eat her lunch and watch city canines frolic.

She was in the process of putting her selection of herbal tea bags into the box when she heard the familiar brittle voice in the outer office.

“Don’t touch anything,” Nyla Witherspoon said fiercely. “Not a damn thing. This was my father’s office. If any of you take so much as a pen, I’ll report you to the police.”

“Take it easy, honey. I’m sure they just came back for their personal things. You heard the security guard out in the hall. He’s keeping an eye on the office.”

Grace recognized Burke Marrick’s voice. Rich and resonant, it would have taken him far in the motivational speaking world.

She went back to the doorway of her office. Nyla was standing in the center of the reception area, vibrating with rage. Her sharp features
were twisted with anger. She looked more than ever like the Wicked Witch of the West.

Burke put one hand on her shoulder as if he thought he might need to restrain her from taking a swing at Kristy.

There was no question but that Nyla had landed herself an impressive trophy fiancé. Burke had certainly hit the genetic lottery when it came to his looks. And he knew how to dress to make the most of his startling green eyes, gleaming dark hair and well-toned physique. Somehow a woman knew just by looking at him that he would be very skilled in bed.

“Get out of here, all of you,” Nyla hissed. “You have no right to be here.”

“The police called us in today and the building manager told us that we were free to pick up our personal things,” Kristy said calmly. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing of value left to steal except the chairs and the desks. Good luck selling them on the used-office-furniture market.”

Nyla clenched her fingers around the strap of her designer purse. “I said get out. Now. Everything in here—everything that belonged to my father—is mine now. I’m the sole heir, in case you weren’t paying attention. Leave now or I will call the police and have all three of you arrested for theft.”

Millicent appeared in the doorway of her office. “Don’t worry, Nyla, we were just leaving.” She looked at Kristy and Grace. “Right?”

Kristy sighed and picked up her cardboard box. “Right.”

Grace went back to her desk, grabbed her box and carried it into the outer office. The three of them marched toward the door.

“Wait,” Nyla yelped. “Let me see what you’ve got in those boxes.”

Burke touched her shoulder again, a little more firmly this time. “Don’t worry about it, Nyla. I’m sure they are just taking the things that belonged to them.”

“Damn it, I don’t trust any of them,” Nyla wailed. “Don’t you understand? One of them murdered my father.”

There was a hushed silence. Grace moved first. She walked toward Nyla and held out the box.

“Take a good look,” she said. “A lovely mug and some herbal tea. You’re welcome to both. You can’t have the wrap, though. My sister gave it to me for my birthday.”

Nyla glanced into the box. Her mouth tightened.

Kristy followed with her box. “Here you go, Nyla. Help yourself. A box of tissues and a photo of my family.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Millicent grumbled. She crouched in her stilettos and opened the roll-aboard to reveal a couple of designer scarves, another pair of stilettos and a coffee mug. “I don’t think the scarves are your color, Nyla. You’re better in black, don’t you think?”

“Leave,” Nyla whispered. “All of you. And don’t come back.”

“Good idea,” Millicent said.

She straightened and rolled her suitcase toward the door. Grace and Kristy followed. The three of them walked to the elevator in silence. Millicent stabbed the button.

“That woman is a real case,” she said.

“We all know that she harbored a lot of resentment toward her father,” Grace reminded them. “Now that he’s gone, she’s dealing with the fact that she won’t ever be able fix that relationship. She’s grieving.”

Kristy snorted softly. “Give me a break. She never tried to reconcile with her father. Heaven knows he wanted to bond with her. But I swear she enjoyed nursing her so-called grievances. I’m telling you, she’s the one who murdered Sprague.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Millicent said. She stabbed the elevator
button again and glanced back down the hall toward the office. “She is the sole heir, isn’t she?”

Grace followed her gaze. “Got a feeling Mr. Perfect has other ideas.”

Millicent’s smile was cold. “I agree with Kristy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they planned the murder together.”

“Serves them right that the money disappeared,” Kristy said.

T
hat was my journey. I would not be here tonight if not for the things Harley Montoya taught me. Many of us can look back and name the people who gave us not only a chance but the guidance and direction that we needed at a crucial moment in our lives . . .”

Grace finally allowed herself to breathe. Julius was doing well on the podium. Granted, he might not make it in the motivational speakers’ world or on the campaign trail. But he was delivering the new version of the Speech from Hell with a conviction that was resonating with the audience.

Nothing grabbed people’s attention like a strong dose of passion and Julius had communicated more than enough to rivet the crowd. The darkened ballroom had been hushed from the outset when it became clear that the after-dinner talk was not going to involve a lot of dull facts and figures. There hadn’t been so much as a clinked glass or the clatter of a spoon on a dish since Julius had launched into the speech. Even the waiters had stopped to listen at the back of the room.

“. . . Those of us who have achieved success in the business world now
find ourselves with an opportunity to wield some real power—the kind that leaves a lasting legacy, the kind that can change lives.

“Look around and find at least one other person who reminds you of yourself when you were starting out. Figure out what you did right and what you did wrong along the way. Focus on the things that you can reflect back on with a sense of pride because you know you did the right thing, the honorable thing, even if it cost you some money or a contract at the time. Offer those lessons to that individual who reminds you of yourself, the one who is still trying to decide what kind of person he or she wants to be. Your mission is to help shape the future.”

Julius swept up the notecards, turned and walked across the raised dais. It took a couple of beats for the audience to realize that the speech had ended. A good sign, Grace thought, satisfied. Always leave them wanting more.

The applause exploded across the banquet room just as Julius started down the steps. By the time he got to the floor, half the people were on their feet. By the time he reached the round table where Grace stood with the others, clapping madly, the rest of the audience was standing.

Grace knew that she was practically glowing. She smiled at Julius.

“That was wonderful,” she said beneath the roar of applause. “You were brilliant.”

“Don’t know about brilliant,” he said. “But at least they didn’t fall asleep this time.”

Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It wasn’t a long, involved embrace—just a short, sure, triumphant kiss that sent the unmistakable impression of intimacy. It was the sort of kiss lovers exchanged.

The crowd loved it. Possibly even more than they loved the speech, Grace thought.

By the time the kiss was over she was flushed and breathless and intensely aware that everyone around her was smiling.

Julius held her chair for her.

“Thanks,” he said so that only she could hear. “I owe you.”

“No,” she said quickly.

“Yes,” he whispered. He gripped the back of her chair. “Sit down. Please. No one else can sit until you do.”

“Oh, right.” She looked around the room. People were still on their feet but the clapping was fading. Definitely time to sit.

She dropped into her chair. Julius guided it back into position and sat down beside her. Everyone else sank back into their seats.

A murmur of congratulations broke out around the head table. A banker sitting two place settings away wanted to know Julius’s opinion of some pending financial regulations. Grace reached for her water glass—and nearly dropped it when she felt Julius’s hand close over hers under the table.

He squeezed her fingers gently. The small action seemed as intimate as the kiss, perhaps more so.
He’s just thanking you for saving him from the Speech from Hell. He’s relieved it’s over. He’s grateful for your suggestions. Don’t read too much into a little squeeze of the hand.

The master of ceremonies resumed control of the audience, thanked Julius for the talk and moved on to the next item on the evening’s agenda, the closing remarks and the reminder that the auction would start in twenty minutes in the main wing of the museum. Last-minute bids were being accepted.

Once again everyone stood. A group quickly gathered around Julius. It seemed as if half the room was eager to engage him in conversation. Many of the people looked vaguely familiar. Grace knew she had seen their faces in the newspapers and on local television.

She started to ease out of the way so that the others could get closer
to Julius. He did not look around but he reached back and captured her wrist.

She stopped and leaned in close so that she could speak directly into his ear.

“Ladies’ room,” she whispered.

At that he broke off a discussion on the subject of the lack of government funding for high-tech research and looked at her.

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” he said. He released her.

“I won’t be long,” she promised.

She slipped off through the crowd, aware of a few curious gazes cast her way before she escaped into the calm of an empty hallway. She paused to get her bearings, spotted the
Ladies
sign at the end of the hall and headed in that direction.

There were three other women at the long row of sinks when she entered. They nodded as if they knew her and smiled. She was quite sure she had never met any of them in her life but she smiled back and headed for a stall. This was what came of being attached to Julius’s side that evening, she thought. Back in Cloud Lake it was easy to forget his position in the Pacific Northwest business community.

By the time she exited the stall the other women had left. She breathed a sigh of relief at finding herself alone and opened her clutch to take out a lipstick. The door swung open again just as she was using a tissue to blot the extra color off her mouth.

The newcomer was a striking woman in her early thirties. Her blond hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon. She wore a sleek, black-and-white cocktail dress and a pair of black heels.

There was recognition in her eyes, just as there had been in the eyes of the three women Grace had encountered when she entered the room. But this woman was not smiling.

“You’re with Julius tonight,” the newcomer said. There was a thread of grim determination in her voice, as if she was confronting an enemy and was prepared to fight.

“He invited me to accompany him this evening,” Grace said.

The tension in the atmosphere was disturbing. She waited, uncertain what to do next. The woman was blocking the route to the door, perhaps by accident but maybe by design.

“I’m Diana Hastings,” Diana said. There was a husky edge on the words, as if she was trying to suppress some fierce emotion. “Julius’s ex-wife.”

“I see.” Grace looked at the door. The uneasy sensation was transitioning to red-alert status. She needed to escape as quickly as possible. Whatever this was about, she was sure it was not going to end well. “I’m Grace Elland. A pleasure to meet you. If you don’t mind, I need to get back to the lobby. Someone is waiting.”

“Julius. You’re going to meet Julius.”

“Well, yes.”

“So you’re the new girlfriend.” Diana looked bemused. “You’re not exactly his type, are you?

“I have no idea and you’re mistaken. Julius and I are just friends. He’s advising me on how to build a business plan.”

That was sort of true, Grace thought. Kisses had been exchanged but she and Julius were not sleeping together. And the part about the business plan was fairly accurate.

“Julius doesn’t kiss his friends the way he kissed you in front of the audience tonight,” Diana said. “No man kisses a woman like that unless he wants to make sure that everyone around him knows that he’s sleeping with her.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Mrs. Hastings—Diana. Julius and I only met recently. It was a blind date arranged through friends. I’m just doing
Julius a favor tonight. He needed a companion for this event and I was—uh—convenient.”

“No.” Diana shook her head with great certainty and moved farther into the room. “Oh, I don’t doubt that he finds you convenient. Julius is very good at manipulating people to get what he wants. But I know that you two are sleeping together. That was obvious tonight.”

Grace felt her temper start to flare. “Not true, but even if it was, it wouldn’t be any of your business, now, would it?”

Diana’s fingers tightened around her gold leather evening purse. “I don’t give a damn if you’re sleeping with him. I suppose I should feel some sympathy. You must be as naive as I was when I married him. But do you know something? I can’t even feel sorry for you. I just don’t
care
if you two are having an affair. Is that clear?”

The situation was escalating. Diana’s face was flushed, her eyes a little wild. Instinctively Grace softened her own voice.

“Very clear,” she said. “You’ve made your point, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving now.”

She started forward, intending to circle around Diana and make a break for the door.

“No, I haven’t made my point.” Diana did not move. “You’re welcome to him, as far as I’m concerned. Julius is cold, ruthless and calculating but that’s your problem, not mine. I want you to take a message to him.”

“If you’ve got something to say to him, I suggest you speak to him, yourself. You can do it right now. He’s waiting in the lobby. Do you mind getting out of the way?”

Diana did not budge. She was gripping her little purse so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Tell that bastard that I know what he’s doing,” she said. “Tell him everyone in Seattle knows.”

Grace debated her chances of getting past Diana without physical contact. They didn’t look good. She felt her temper start to slip again.

“Do I look like a messenger pigeon?” she asked.

“Tell Julius that I know he wants revenge. I get that. But he should take it out on me—not my husband and my husband’s family. They are innocent. What Julius is doing is so unfair. And pointless. It’s not as if I ever meant anything to him. I was just one more transaction, an entry in his portfolio. I know he never truly loved me. Tell him that even in my nightmares I never believed that he would be this cruel.”

“What?” Grace was so shocked she could not think of how to follow up so she just stared at Diana.

The door of the ladies’ room swung open without warning, forcing Diana to move aside. She did so but she seemed unaware of the two women who walked into the room behind her. She was focused utterly on Grace.

“Julius is deliberately trying to destroy my husband’s company,” Diana said, her voice tight with fury and frustration. “It’s common knowledge. Julius wants to exact vengeance on me because I left him. He can’t abide losing. He’s Arkwright the Alchemist. He always wins.”

The two women who had just entered the room watched the scene with hushed fascination. Diana ignored them.

Grace assessed her options. There were now three people blocking the room’s only escape route. A Witherspoon Way affirmation flashed through her mind.
Be the eye of the storm. It is the only way to control the chaos around you.

It took everything she had to smile at Diana but she managed the feat.

“It’s all a huge misunderstanding, Mrs. Hastings,” she said. “The rumors are wrong. I can assure you that Julius is not out to destroy your husband’s company.”

Tears sparked in Diana’s eyes. “Tonight that son of a bitch gave a very nice, very noble speech about the importance of legacies and honor and making a difference. But what he’s doing to Edward and the Hastings family makes Julius a complete hypocrite. You tell him that, damn it.”

“If you know Julius as well as you think you do,” Grace said, “then there is something else you should know.”

Diana frowned. “What?”

“Julius is very, very good when it comes to business. You said it yourself. They call him Arkwright the Alchemist.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Diana dashed the back of her hand across her eyes, smearing her makeup. “Believe me, I’m well aware that he’s a legend in the business world.”

“Then stop and think about this for a minute,” Grace said. “If Julius Arkwright actually had set out to destroy your husband’s company, Hastings would have filed for bankruptcy months ago. The firm would be in smoking ruins. Julius doesn’t mess around. I would have thought you would remember that aspect of his character.”

It was Diana’s turn to stare. She did not say a word. The other two women were still frozen in place. For a moment no one moved.

Grace couldn’t think of anything else to say so she turned and yanked a towel out of the dispenser. She marched toward the trio who stood in her way.

“Excuse me,” she said.

She did not stop. Abruptly the three scattered. Grace kept going. She obeyed the little sign on the wall that advised her to use the paper towel to open the door. Tossing the towel aside, she escaped into the hall.

The door closed softly on the still-life-with-bathroom-fixtures in the ladies’ room.