Number's Up

by Annabelle Hunter

  “Will you tell me what you were thinking about?”

  “Nope,” I answered. I said it a little to be contrary, but mostly because I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t know what to do with the information.

  “Please?”

  “I believe my best option at this point is to stay silent. If you have any questions, you should ask my lawy—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  Huh. Maybe I did have some power here. All I had to do was ask for my lawyer. “What do I get if I don’t?”

  “That’s not how this works.” He frowned, crossing his arms for emphasis.

  “Okay, then. You should address all your questions to my—”

  “Okay, what do you want?” he asked, his hand dragging through his hair and messing it up. He looked better a little messed up.

  “A question for a question.”

  “No. That’s not how this works.” He shook his head like that was the final say.

  “We already did that bit,” I reminded him. Was he going to make me say it?

  “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “Henry died. How?” I didn’t really want to know, but the detail monster inside couldn’t rest until I did. I needed to know the specifics. Where he was shot. How. Why. All the information. Information was the key to solving any question.

  “Gunshot wound, close quarters, to the chest.” He waited for my nod before continuing. “How long did it take you to figure out Tony’s trading?”

  “Two months. The first month I was suspicious. I started looking into past trades in my spare time. By the second month, I had another trade and a pattern. I reported it and advised Henry that I was dropping his account due to conflicts with my work for their business account.”

  “Did he protest?”

  “No. No, he didn’t.” Why hadn’t that seemed weird at the time? I was just too relieved to question it when it happened. Now I realized I should have questioned it. I had been so dumb.

  “And did you know anything about Dan?”

  “No. I never saw any of his records. I knew he was a client, but that’s it.” I watched as he wrote that down.

  “Why didn’t you start breaking away from the business?” he asked softly.

  “Because I didn’t want it to be real,” I whispered. “Henry… he was like a father to me. I didn’t want to believe…” I stopped talking and sank to the floor. On the ground. Again. Twice in one day. This was probably symbolic of my life.

  “I’m sorry.” Nic sat beside me, studying the pictures on my walls. They were all contemporary. Lark liked to complain about how awful they were, but I loved them. How the designs used beauty to evoke passion, make points, change minds. It was amazing.

  Nic looked like he didn’t agree with me.

  “It was a good question. I should have. I was stupid,” I admitted.

  We sat in silence for a few seconds.

  “Was anything taken from the room?” I asked, remembering how his stuff was spread out.

  “Not that we know of.” He hesitated. “Did you know he was sick?”

  “No. How did you know?”

  “He had medication in his room. And at his home.”

  “I had no idea. What did he have?” Turned out Henry was keeping a lot of things from me. So much for trust.

  “We don’t know yet. We were hoping you would.”

  “I had no idea. I had no idea about a lot of things.” I didn’t hide the bitter note there.

  Maybe it was me. The reason all the men in my life turned out to be liars. Maybe I chose to be around them. My dad. My ex. My partner. The common thread was me.

  “Would it surprise you to know he was in contact with his ex-wife?”

  “Before I saw her at the resort? It would’ve shocked me. No, it still does,” I corrected myself. “They hated each other. She married for money and security. He married because she was hot. Then it was too expensive to divorce. Until she slept with a client. Then she was a liability.” Maybe Henry wasn’t that great of a judge of character, either.

  “So, the divorce was bitter.”

  “Very.”

  We sat there for a moment, both lost in thought, pretending to look at my paintings.

  “Does the name Scarlett Johansson mean anything to you?”

  “Like the actress?” I glanced over at him really quick, but I couldn’t tell anything from his face.

  “Yes.”

  “No. Definitely not a client. Loved her stuff though. Why?”

  “He was in contact with someone by that name in the past few weeks, but we don’t see any reference to, well, anything.” His head shook slightly, as if it was an unconscious reveal of his frustration.

  “What?” That didn’t make any sense. Henry wasn’t much of a small talk guy unless you paid him to be.

  “It’s a string of emails about how nice their days were. Nothing else.”

  “Their days,” I repeated.

  “Yes. Weather conditions. Temperatures. That kind of stuff.”

  “I’ve no idea. I’m guessing it wasn’t the real Scarlett Johansson?”

  “No.”

  Silence.

  “You know, me saying that you should talk to my lawyer wouldn’t have stopped you talking to me. Just your questions,” I pointed out, letting my head fall back to rest on the wall. Mostly because it just occurred to me. “It would be up to me to stay quiet.” And pay the lawyer bill.

  “I know. But you felt more in control when you thought it would, didn’t you?”

  “Devious.” Sexy. No, I did not just think that. Bad brain. “Would you really have let me leave?”

  “No. We had cars blocking you in, too.” He shot me a gloating grin before looking forward again.

  Well played.

  “I have to be at the hotel by eleven to meet with Julia and her son.”

  He nodded. “You mind if I go with you?”

  “Yes.” I frowned. “Why?”

  I got a shrug as he glanced away. It didn’t tell me much, so I kept staring.

  “I want to see more of the town.”

  More staring.

  “Fine. Someone killed your business partner and we have no leads. John thought I might follow you around today and see if something stands out.”

  “That sounds like a long shot.” And a little familiar.

  He shrugged.

  “You have no leads?” That didn’t sound right.

  Another shrug.

  “What about Dan Ellson?” Nothing. Who else was there? “Charlotte has a few dozen people that can alibi her, so she is out.”

  “A hundred.”

  “What?”

  “Charlotte had a hundred people that could alibi her at the time of the murder. She didn’t leave the brunch until a few minutes after the murder.”

  “I thought she was told that he was dead at the brunch?”

  His forehead wrinkled as he thought. “No. She was in the lobby, having just left the brunch. Still in sight of everyone though. All one hundred.”

  “That seems like overkill.”

  He was back to shrugging. “I guess that’s the normal turnout for brunch, even during the week.”

  “Even during the off-season?”

  “Yep.”

  “This town is so weird.” I sighed. Their brunch must be amazing.

  “I’m getting that impression.”

  “So Charlotte is out. Frank?” I asked.

  “You think Frank might have done it? Why?” He eyed me, trying to figure out why I asked.

  Why did I ask? I hadn’t shared my thoughts that Frank might have been behind the cover up. I certainly didn’t want to now.

  “No reason. Just going through all the people.” I gave him an extra shruggy shrug, playing it off.

  “He left before the murder, but he said he just went for a drive.”

  “So, no real alibi.”

  “No,” he sighed. “But there’s no record of his car coming back until after the murder.”<
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  I pursed my lips in thought. He was right, they had no leads. It had to be Dan, or I was out of suspects. Or Frank, I guess. There had to be ways around the cameras.

  “It has to be Dan.”

  “You would think.” He agreed, but there was something unspoken.

  “But?”

  “But, you’re a civilian. And you need to get to the resort to escort some lady and her kid around town.” He looked over, doing his eyebrow thing. The one-up thing. I managed to stop my sigh. Barely. “Why are you escorting them, again?” he asked.

  “Long story.” Crazy story that wasn’t going to make me look good, so I was definitely skipping sharing it. “Are you really going to follow me around all day?”

  “No. I have some questions for the hotel manager. Just thought I would catch a ride with you.”

  “John suggested it, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. I said no.”

  I nodded. “You didn’t bring your own car?”

  “Rode over with a coworker.”

  Right. Why didn’t I believe him? But I was too tired to argue, and it was almost eleven. Time to go.

  “This is nice,” he commented, and I looked at him, my brow furrowed.

  “What’s nice?” If he says the murder discussion, I might have to hit him and take my chances in court.

  “Us. Not fighting.” He snuck a peek at me, but I was too surprised at his answer to know what he thought of my expression.

  “It is,” I admitted quietly, before jumping to my feet. That was enough for now. I needed to get away from him before I admitted something I couldn’t take back. Like my dream last night.

  I headed to the car, while he moved the cars parked behind me out of the way. They really had blocked me in. Was there something wrong with me that the planning to block me in before they knocked impressed me?

  Probably.

  Finally, all the cars were gone and Nic had joined me. As we pulled out, I was lost in my own thoughts, a round robin of processing Henry’s death, trying to understand why someone would do it, and trying to figure out how to lure Julia into staying. Nic seemed to be okay with it since he didn’t say anything, either. The drive was quick and I found a parking spot near the front, which I hoped wasn’t an indication that they had people leave after yesterday’s murder. Though I had to admit, I would feel weird vacationing in the same building that someone died in the day before.

  “Are you going to follow me in?” I asked Nic.

  “Just to the hotel. Then I need to meet with Kenneth. He’s running point for the resort and our teams with regard to the murder.”

  Interesting. I guessed that was a clear indication who was going to be running the hotel in the future.

  I got out of the car and Nic quickly followed. I had about ten minutes until I was supposed to meet Julia and Logan, so I headed to the lobby as Nic wandered over to the front desk. Sitting on the same couch as yesterday, I tried to come up with an official letter to send to our clients telling them what happened. I had gotten two sentences in when a voice interrupted me.

  “Jen. I’m so glad I ran into you.”

  I looked up to see Frank standing there, smiling the same smile I used to see on Henry’s face. They looked a lot alike, Henry and his son. Same receding hairline. Same brown eyes. Same wide smile. Same husky frame, although it looked better on the older man than on the one who was still in his twenties, even if only by one year. But where Henry’s eyes had been wide and welcoming, Frank’s were beady and mean. Okay, that might’ve been me projecting, but it was all I could see. The cruel streak that I knew was there even though he had never shown it to me. I stood, not comfortable with him hovering above me.

  “Hello, Frank. I’m so sorry for your loss.” His smile wavered slightly when he remembered he was supposed to be mourning. But it didn’t leave completely.

  “It’s been hard, but Mother and I are working through it. Thank you for your condolences. We have confidence that Dan will be arrested for the murder soon.” He was still smiling, even if it was just slightly.

  It was creepy.

  They should definitely not have Frank speak at the funeral. At least Charlotte faked a few tears. How a sweet man like Henry had these people in his life, I would never understand.

  Oh, wait. He might have been helping a criminal and hiding things from me. Maybe it wasn’t that hard to believe.

  No. No, it was. It was hard to reconcile the man I knew with the Henry who was being painted in the last few days. Which was the truth?

  “Henry’s loss will be felt for a while.” I didn’t bother to remind him I was hurting, too. I was all about realistic expectations. “Did you want something?” I tried to keep my tone light and not let any of the bitterness escape. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the business.”

  Oh. I should have predicted he would want to talk about that. I wasn’t ready. Couldn’t he see I wasn’t ready? I looked away, forcing my eyes wide to dry any hidden tears.

  “I’ve already started crafting a letter to our customers and contacted some firms to see who would have room for our clients.” This time there was a definite clip to my tone, but he still ignored it.

  “What if we didn’t? I have a few resumes from CPAs that would be a good fit for the firm. We could hire someone and have them take over Dad’s accounts. Until then, I can work under your supervision. I know I’m not a CPA, but I can do a lot of the accounting and I know all Dad’s accounts inside and out. I can take on more responsibility. With you at the lead, we don’t have to let Dad’s dream die.” His smile widened, and he stepped closer to me.

  I stepped back.

  “No. With the scandal from the second case of insider trading, the firm is done. I’m resigning and closing it down. Like I said, I’ve already started looking for potential matches for our clients. I’m sorry, but I just don’t believe anyone will have faith in the name anymore.”

  “What if I told you I could guarantee some of our clients would stay with us? If we helped them with their special projects.” His smile, the one that was so offensive already, turned even worse. Or maybe it was the way his eyes hooded. Either way, I suddenly was wishing Nic had come with me.

  “Special projects?” I didn’t like the sound of that. My suspicious mind, the one that was already thinking that Henry was covering up for Frank, was jumping to all kinds of conclusions. All of them revolved around Frank being the mastermind behind the insider trading. Which was ridiculous. Frank couldn’t mastermind a dinner, much less a plot involving multiple people and hidden payments. It could be innocent. Maybe they just had a demanding project no one wanted to do. Which meant neither did I. “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t answer me, now. Think about it.”

  I didn’t need to. The answer was no. But I didn’t want to have the confrontation now. I was too close to tears, too emotional from losing my friend, too anxious from the fear of losing my stability. I didn’t have it in me to try and argue with him. Let him think there was a chance.

  I let out a long breath when he left, scurrying away into the crowd. My gaze stayed on him as he stopped to talk with Donald Watts, which made me frown.

  “You aren’t going to do it, are you?” Kenneth Watts was suddenly beside me, watching Frank and Donald talk.

  “You think it’s a bad idea?” Not that I thought it was a good one.

  “You seem like a competent person. One that should see through that.” He pointed his head at Frank.

  “I am.” That was arrogant. “There is no chance the company will stay open.”

  He assessed me, his eyes thoughtful. “Interesting.”

  I had nothing to say to that.

  Falling silent, we both looked across the lobby at the two men talking. Really, my company closing wasn’t as interesting as those two knowing each other.

  How would a worm like Frank know Donald, presumably an up-and-coming player in the extensive Watts empire? I guessed they b
oth lived in San Francisco, so maybe they had run into each other, but that seemed very unlikely. The conversation didn’t take long, and then Frank was gone, lost into the crowd of people getting onto the elevator.

  My gaze returned to Donald as he watched Frank disappear. The grumpy grandson of yesterday was gone, but the person in front of me was even worse.

  “Do you know how they know each other?”

  Kenneth frowned. “No. But it can’t be good.” After that, he turned and walked away without saying goodbye. Once he was lost to a back room, my eyes returned to Donald.

  Was I imagining things? Or was Donald Watts, grandson of Dorothy Watts and presumable heir to some of their business empire, a part of this? And how?

  Chapter 8

  It wasn’t long after Frank left that I spotted Julia coming toward me, her blonde hair standing out in the crowd.

  “Jen!” Surprised, I took a step as Logan hugged me. Apparently, he’d managed to sneak ahead of this mother. The hug, though… I couldn’t grasp the emotions going through my mind as his little arms wrapped around my legs. Instead, I bent down to throw my arms around him.

  I wanted this. I wanted children.

  And for the first time in my life, I wanted it more than security. More than money. More than my job.

  I was ready for love.

  As I let myself glory in his trust, my mind started making plans.

  New plans. Better plans.

  I was done being anxious all the time. I was done with not having time to do anything but eat and sleep. There was more to life and I was going to get it.

  This could be the grief talking, but life was short. Security didn’t mean anything if I was dead.

  Plans. I was secure. Well, I was secure enough. If I could control my anxiety and live without my expensive shoes. But if this was the reward, I could do it. I only needed fifty thousand a year to support my lifestyle. I could probably do that with a few small clients. Or maybe I would just do taxes for the locals. Who knew? But I was getting this.

  My new plan:

  Step One: get a date. I needed to go check my online profile since I hadn’t looked at it in a month.

  Step Two: get married. Hmm. That one might be optional, but preferable. I was a talented, amazing woman. I could raise kids on my own. That negated Step One, too.