Trust No One (8 page)

S
atisfied with her first serious move toward finding her calling, Grace went back inside the house. She took off her coat and hung it on a hook in the small closet off the kitchen that served as a mudroom. It was a good time to practice her third ritual. She needed to fortify herself for the coming interview with Chief Nakamura. It was hard to think of him as Devlin when he was in uniform.

She locked the doors, changed into her workout clothes and unrolled the exercise mat. She stood at the end of the mat for a time, composing herself from head to toe—mind and body—as she had been taught.

When she was ready she took the first step in the fluid moves of the ancient system of physical meditation that, together with the evening house-check and the breathing exercises, kept the nightmares and panic attacks under some semblance of control.

Y
ou should have told Devlin about those emails you’ve been receiving from Witherspoon’s account,” Irene said.

“There didn’t seem to be much point,” Grace said. “There isn’t anything he can do. Besides, there have only been a few of them.”

She spoke mostly into her mug of coffee because she knew what was coming next. Talk about easy predictions, she thought. Maybe she should consider a career as a psychic.

“You’ve only received a
few
emails from some demented stalker?” Irene yelped. “Listen to yourself, woman. Someone is harassing you and all you can say is, well, there have only been a few scary emails.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I’m feeling a tad defensive because everyone is on my case this morning about those emails. I don’t think I’m being stalked. Not exactly. And would you please keep your voice down? It’s bad enough that my friends, family and Julius Arkwright think I’m a naive idiot. I would appreciate it if you didn’t broadcast the news to your customers as well.”

They were sitting at a table in Irene’s office. Grace had headed
straight to Cloud Lake Kitchenware as soon as she finished talking to Devlin at the Cloud Lake Police Department headquarters two blocks away. Julius had insisted on accompanying her to the tense interview. By the time it was over she had felt utterly drained and in need of a friendly ear. But all she had gotten from Irene thus far was more lecturing.

The door between the office and the sales floor of the gourmet cookware store was closed but there was a long window. Grace could see most of the front of the shop. It was not yet noon but Cloud Lake Kitchenware was bustling with customers who were browsing the cookbook collection, admiring bouquets of colorful silicon spatulas and examining the gleaming pots and pans.

The employees, dressed in dark green aprons stamped with the shop’s logo, were busy but that did not mean they could not overhear a private conversation in the office—not if Irene’s voice rose any higher.

Irene cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “I can’t help but notice that you put Julius into a third category.”

Grace frowned. “What?”

“You said friends, family and Julius Arkwright thought you were a naive idiot,” Irene reminded her. “You placed Julius in a special category.”

“Well, he’s not family and he’s not exactly a friend.”

“What is he, then?”

“I’m not sure how to describe him,” Grace admitted.

“But you’re sure he thinks you’re a naive idiot?” Irene asked, evidently intrigued by the possibility. “He actually said that?”

Grace slumped back in her chair. “He didn’t use those exact words but it’s not hard to tell that’s what he’s thinking. It appears to be a commonly held assumption.”

“That’s not true. Your friends and family and, I’m sure, Julius, as well, are just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Yes, I know. And deep down I appreciate it, really I do. But in spite of appearances, I’m not entirely incapable of taking care of myself.”

“We know that.”

“Yeah, sure you do.” Grace drank some of her coffee. “Be honest. You think I’m a naive idiot.”

Irene’s eyes narrowed in sudden comprehension. “You know who is sending those emails, don’t you?”

“I’m not positive but I suspect that the sender is probably Nyla Witherspoon.” Grace set the mug down on the desk. “I’ll bet she came across the password for Sprague’s email account. It’s not like Sprague treated it as top secret.”

“Now she’s pissed and sending you those emails because she thinks you embezzled money from Sprague Witherspoon that should have come to her.”

“Assuming Nyla is behind the emails, I need to remind everyone that she started sending them
before
it was discovered that a lot of money was missing. She was jealous of Sprague’s office staff because we worked so closely with her father. But she fixated on me.”

“Because you were the one who did the most to elevate his career,” Irene said calmly.

“People keep saying that, but it’s not true.”

“There’s no maybe about it. Your cookbook and the blog are what put Witherspoon into the big time.”

“I keep trying to explain that it was Sprague Witherspoon, himself, who was the force behind his own success. I just helped him market his concepts.”

“Bull,” Irene said. “It was the cookbook and the related blog with
all those dippy daily affirmations that made him famous in the motivational guru business. You’re the one who wrote all of that stuff.”

Grace raised her brows. “Dippy daily affirmations?”

“Sorry.” Irene winced. “As a branding technique those affirmations were nothing short of brilliant. But getting back to the emails, who else might have the password to Witherspoon’s account?”

“Any number of people, including me,” Grace said morosely.

“I’ll bet Nyla or whoever is behind the emails is hoping the cops will assume that you are sending those emails to yourself.”

“That possibility has occurred to me,” Grace said. “Why do you think I didn’t mention them to Devlin? I figured he would jump to that conclusion.”

“No,” Irene said. She said it very firmly.

“Whoever is emailing me from Sprague’s account has been very careful to make sure the contents are not overtly threatening. I think that indicates that the sender doesn’t want the cops to look too hard in that direction.”

“But the emails are definitely intended to rattle your nerves,” Irene said.

“Oh, sure.” Grace drank some more coffee and lowered the mug. “I must admit the sender has had some success in that regard. I’m not sleeping well these days.”

“I wouldn’t be sleeping well, either, under the circumstances,” Irene said. She paused a beat and then softened her tone. “Do you really believe that Julius thinks you’re naive and maybe not too bright?”

Grace started to say yes but she hesitated and then shrugged. “Maybe. But he’s hard to read. I also have to face the fact that there is another possibility.”

“What’s that?”

“He might still be wondering if I did kill Sprague Witherspoon.”

Irene set her mug down with a bang that reverberated through the office. “I’m sure he doesn’t believe that.”

“Do you know him well enough to be able to tell what he’s thinking?”

“Well, no. As you just said, he’s hard to read. But Julius and Dev have been friends for years. I’m sure Dev would never have gone along with the dinner date last night if he wasn’t convinced that you and Julius made a good match.”

Grace managed a grim smile. “And everyone thinks I’m naive.”

Irene glared. “I beg your pardon?”

“Get real. You know me well enough to trust me but Devlin doesn’t. Furthermore he’s a cop—one who happens to have an old pal in town, someone whose instincts he probably does trust. So he goes along with your little matchmaking scheme because he figures it will give him the perfect opportunity to get Julius’s take on me.”

Irene opened her mouth to protest but after a few seconds she closed it again. She drummed her fingers on the desktop.

“Hmm,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking Devlin’s distrust personally,” Grace said.

Irene’s brows rose. “That’s very gracious of you.”

“I’m serious. Dev’s first priority is to protect you. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you. The possibility that your best friend might be a murderer—and/or an embezzler—is naturally of considerable interest to him.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t believe that you killed Witherspoon or stole the money.”

“I didn’t say he believed all that stuff. I just said he’s concerned—in part because I’m now living in his town but mostly because of you. He’s a good cop. He’s also a good husband. He’ll do what he thinks he has to do to protect you.”

“Yes, but I still can’t believe that he went so far as to ask Julius for his take on you,” Irene said.

“Seems like a logical move, when you think about it.”

Irene eyed her keenly. “You know, some people might be quite annoyed upon discovering that what they thought was an innocent blind date was actually an undercover sting operation.”

“Turns out I’ve got bigger problems,” Grace said. “As we at the Witherspoon Way would say,
Today I will focus
on priorities and ignore the unimportant crap.
”

Irene looked pained. “You just made up that affirmation on the spot, didn’t you?”

“Yep. Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

They drank their coffee quietly for a time. The silence between them was the kind that could be generated only by a long friendship. After a while Irene stirred in her chair.

“Let’s reverse this process,” she said. “What’s your take on Julius Arkwright?”

“He’s bored,” Grace said.

“What?” Irene stared at her, startled. “Devlin and I have been wondering if Julius is sinking into some kind of low-grade depression. He hasn’t even dated very much since his divorce a couple of years ago.”

Grace shrugged. “He’s drifting. With some people, boredom can look a lot like depression.”

“When did you get a degree in psychology?”

“Okay, you’ve got me there. But if you will recall, Mom made me spend a lot of time with a shrink after the crap that happened up at the old asylum. I learned a lot. What made you and Devlin think that Julius was depressed?”

“Dev told me that Julius is thinking very seriously about selling his venture capital company,” Irene said slowly.

“So? A lot of people build companies and then sell them. It’s a dream come true for most businesspeople.”

“Dev says he doesn’t think that’s the case with Julius.”

“Why not?”

“Julius built Arkwright Ventures from scratch,” Irene said. “He poured his heart and soul into it, according to Dev. Julius loves the venture capital business or at least he did at one time. He’s made a fortune because he’s very good at what he does. But about two years ago his wife left him for another man.”

Grace squared her shoulders. “I repeat, so?”

“Wow.” Irene blinked. “Aren’t you the hard-hearted woman today?”

Grace tightened her grip on her mug. “Don’t look at me like that. Divorce happens.”

“Well, yes, but you’re usually a little more sympathetic about such things.”

“Maybe Julius poured a little too much of his heart and soul into his business,” Grace said. “Maybe he should have saved some for his wife.”

Irene nodded slowly. “You may be right. Dev did say that Julius was married to his company. It’s entirely possible that the wife felt neglected. But, really, she didn’t have to run off with Julius’s vice president and trusted friend.”

Grace thought about that. “Okay, you’re right, that’s cold.”

“Dev says Julius has seemed sort of numb since then, like he’s running on autopilot. He keeps making money but the thrill is gone.”

“There are problems in the world and then there are problems,” Grace said evenly. “Frankly, the ability to make money without even trying doesn’t strike me as a huge burden to bear.”

Irene smiled briefly. “You really are not inclined to be sympathetic to Julius Arkwright today, are you?”

“He doesn’t need sympathy. But if it makes you feel better, I can tell you that this morning I hired him to consult for me.”

Irene’s mouth fell open. “You
what
?”

“Last night when he took me home he told me that I needed to draw up a strategy designed to help me find a new career. This morning I hired him to show me how to go about making the plan.”

“You hired him?” Irene said. Now she looked blank.

“Technically speaking, it was a bribe.”

“Either way, you’re joking. You can’t afford Julius Arkwright.”

“I already gave him the bribe. He took it. We have a deal.”

Irene’s eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with him. At least not yet. I like Julius, yes. I think the two of you would make an interesting couple. But it’s way too soon—especially for you. We both know that jumping into bed with a man on the first date is not your style.”

“No, of course I’m not sleeping with Julius Arkwright.” Grace brushed that aside with a wide, sweeping motion of her hand and beetled her brows at Irene—making it clear that she had no intention of hopping into bed with Julius. Unfortunately she could not be sure if she was trying to reassure Irene or herself. “But I think he’s got a point about me needing some kind of career path plan,” she continued hastily.

“You do?”

“I’m certainly not getting anywhere on my own. I can’t seem to focus. He appears to be an expert on planning and strategy. So, when he ran by my house this morning I intercepted him with a picnic basket full of breakfast goodies and told him it was a bribe for his services as a consultant. He accepted.”

“Did he?” Irene tapped the pen lightly on the desktop. “So the blind date was not a complete disaster.”

“Not if it keeps me from ending up as a street mime out in front of Nordstrom.”

Irene looked at her. “Well, at least you’d be working in front of Nordstrom. You wouldn’t be just any street mime.”

“You know what I mean. I want to find out what it is that I am meant to do in life, Irene. My calling. My passion. I haven’t had any luck with the online questionnaires that are supposed to guide you to an appropriate career path. So I figure I have nothing left to lose by getting some planning advice from an expert.”

“In other words, you do like Julius,” Irene said with a smug air. “At least enough to ask for his advice.”

Grace smiled a crafty smile. “Some people would say I’m using him.”

Amusement lit Irene’s eyes. “I seriously doubt that Julius would let anyone use him. He has been known to do the occasional favor, however.”

“Really?”

“Who do you think arranged the financing I needed to start Cloud Lake Kitchenware? Who do you think helped me find a website designer to take the business online? Who do you think guided me through the tax and accounting issues and taught me how to do a profit-and-loss statement?”

“Ah,” Grace said. “I see.”

Irene’s expression turned serious. “Like I said, I’m rather fond of Julius and grateful to him. Furthermore, I know that Dev would trust him with his life. In fact, that is what happened when they served together in a war zone a few years ago. Dev also trusts Julius with our retirement fund investments. But if you’re going to get involved with Julius Arkwright, I think there is something you should know about him.”