“I’m not leaving without you.” And she wasn’t.
He gave her a look of exasperation. “I need to get a look at what we’re dealing with.”
“Oh, what, you’re some kind of bomb expert,” Kline scoffed from his prone position on the floor.
“Yes.”
The word was said with authority and Kline’s smirk disappeared.
Grant carefully eased the sides open and then looked up at her. “It’s definitely the makings of a bomb, but it hadn’t been put together yet.” He pinned Kline with a glare. “My guess is that he was bringing this here to plant in Deanna’s apartment. Make it look like she was the one who built the bomb.”
“You can’t prove that,” Kline boasted.
Grant pulled out a piece of paper. “Looks to me like I can.”
“What is it?” Melody asked.
“Proof that he was setting up Deanna and Elliot Kingman to take the fall.”
Something didn’t make sense. Deanna was having an affair with Elliot. She had stolen the inventory and most likely been responsible for the tampering and the notes. What did Burton Kline have to gain by sabotaging her business, besides payback for losing his job?
“Why did you send threatening notes, steal my inventory? How did you find Andrew Polk to do your dirty work?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kline insisted.
Pieces clicked into place. “Wait a minute. You weren’t just trying to destroy my business.”
“What are you talking about, Mel?” Grant sputtered. “He set off a bomb.”
She shook her head. “He was after me, but he was also after Elliot Kingman. He’s the main target.” All the pieces were clicking into place now. “I’m sure tampering with my business was icing on the cake, but all along, it’s been about setting Kingman up, ruining his life.”
“He ruined mine!” Kline yelled. “He not only fired me, he destroyed my reputation. I can’t even get a job in a meth lab.”
“Nice standards,” Grant drawled.
“Oh, shut up,” Kline spat. “I have nothing! He took it all from me.”
“You’ve been watching him,” Grant deduced, clicking more pieces of the puzzle into place. “I’m guessing you listened to his conversations. Taped him. And Melody’s office, too. When you realized what he and Deanna were up to, you saw the perfect opportunity to get payback to both the people you thought wronged you.”
He shrugged, neither confirming nor denying Grant’s theory.
“So, you planted a bomb to what? Destroy a business, possibly kill a few people. All so you could pin it on him?” she asked in disbelief.
Another indifferent lift of his shoulders.
“I must say, genius plan,” Grant praised. “But how did you get Deanna to do your dirty work?”
He chuckled evilly, obviously pleased Grant thought his plan was brilliant. Now he wanted the credit. “That part was easy. I left the backpack for her with a note signed by Elliot. I told her to just drop it off at the shop, that it was a fake, designed to scare you.” He pointed at Melody. Then I watched her go inside, drove away so as not to be caught in the aftershock, and dialed the number. Kaboom.”
“You killed a woman tonight, Kline,” Grant growled. “She didn’t get out of the building before you set off the bomb. She died in the commission of a dangerous crime. That’s felony murder. You’re looking at life behind bars, or possibly worse. Did you really think you’d get away with it?”
A look of pure delight along with a healthy dose of self-confidence crossed his face. “I have, and I will. You can’t prove any of this. It’s your word against mine. I may be down, but I’m not out. I have several degrees and an impressive resume.”
Melody indicated Grant. “Yet you can’t hold a candle to him. He’s a decorated Navy SEAL with a recording device.”
Grant held up his phone to confirm he had indeed taped the conversation and subsequent confession. Then he hefted Kline to his feet. Sirens sounded and Kline turned pleading eyes to Melody.
“Please, you have to help me. You owe me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How do I owe you anything?”
“It’s because of you I got fired.”
“No Burt,” Grant drawled, “It was because of you and your horrible business sense.”
Beads of sweat popped up along his brow. “Please, you have to help me. I can’t go to prison.”
Melody stepped forward until she was in his face. “You destroyed my business, injured my friends and you killed a woman tonight, Kline. I have no sympathy for you.”
A look of pure loathing crossed his face. “I’m glad your business is destroyed. You’re nothing but a plain, forgettable piece of—oof.”
Grant slugged him so hard in the stomach he doubled over gagging and then fell to his knees. Grant leaned close to whisper, “If you ever say another derogatory word to or about Melody again, I will end you.”
“You just threatened me,” Kline wheezed. He eyed Melody. “That was a threat. You heard him.”
She lifted her brows in fake innocence. “I heard nothing.”
“And look at that.” Grant eyed his phone. “It somehow managed to stop recording.” He slid the phone in his pocket and fisted Kline’s shirt, jerking him upright. “You’re a coward, Burt. You can’t do the dirty work yourself, so you have to trick people into doing it, like Deanna, or pay them. Is that what you did to Andrew Polk? Did you pay him to run Melody off the road? To try to run her over? Here’s something I don’t understand. Why pay him to shoot up the building when you were planning on setting off the bomb anyway?”
“Go to hell. I’m not saying another word without my lawyer.”
The door burst open and the cavalry arrived. She and Grant stood back as cops swarmed the interior. They searched all the rooms before calling out clear and gathering in the small living room. She recognized the man who sauntered inside in a wrinkled blue suit. Detective Hurley. She met him last night. They gave him a brief rundown on what transpired.
She was watching the young cop who was reading Kline his rights. After he finished, he cut the band Grant bound Kline’s hands with and then reached back to withdraw his handcuffs. Kline shook out his hands to get circulation flowing and she noticed a patch of inflamed redness along his left forearm. It looked like a burn. She hadn’t asked him about torching her house.
“Kline, why did you—”
In one quick motion, he reached down and ripped the cop’s gun from his holster and then locked his arm around his neck, digging the barrel of the gun in the cop’s temple.
“Everyone stay back,” he yelled, his wild eyes darting around the room until they landed on her and narrowed ominously. “Bitch. You ruined everything.”
Grant tackled her to the ground as shots rang out. She had no idea what was happening but just as quickly as it started, it was over.
“Are you okay?” Grant asked.
“Yes.” Surprisingly, she was getting used to being tackled by him.
“Stay there. You don’t need to see this.”
It was sweet of him to want to protect her, but she’d been through so much in the last week, nothing would faze her. She pushed to her feet and turned, wishing she hadn’t. Two men were down and bleeding, one being Burton Kline. His eyes were wide, but he wasn’t seeing anything. There were five bullet holes in his shirt and one dead center of his forehead.
The cop whose gun Kline had confiscated was propped against the wall rubbing his neck. A female officer had squatted down to comfort him. Several people surrounded a body on the ground and applied first aid. She prayed he would make it, but her heart sank when one of the cops sat back on his heels and shook his head. Melody closed her eyes. Kline had killed him.
When she opened them, she realized that Deanna’s apartment was now the scene of a double homicide. The crime scene technicians would be processing it for hours. There was something she needed to do and soon. She pulled Grant aside. “I need to get
out of here for a while. Can we leave?”
Grant brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Anything for you. Let me tell Detective Hurley.”
#
Grant promised Detective Hurley that he and Melody would be at the station to answer questions, such as why they happened to be inside Deanna’s apartment at night when Burton Kline broke in, but first, they had a stop to make, per Melody’s request.
“Let me take the lead,” Melody insisted. “I need to do this.”
Grant did, too, but he’d gladly stand back and let her take the point. It was her business, her livelihood they’d messed with. He’d get his turn, one way or another. He’d make sure of it.
He pulled up to the gate in front of Elliot Kingman’s residence in an exclusive community and waited while she dialed his number. Even though it was late, several lights burned in the windows. Elliot appeared to be a night owl.
He tapped Melody’s arm and pointed to a sign attached to the thick brick column. For sale. Elliot was selling his mansion. He winced when he spotted Ginger’s toothy smile. She’d nabbed herself a big fish.
“Elliot, it’s Melody Franklin. I’ve thought about your proposition and I’d like to talk it over with you.” She glanced quickly at Grant and then said, “The business proposal. Right. Well, I’m outside your house now.”
The gate slowly parted and Grant drove through, concentrating on not clenching his teeth. He would have to hold his temper in check. This man wanted Melody, but he wasn’t getting her. She was his.
“I wonder why he’s selling,” Melody mused. “This place is grand and ostentatious, much like the man himself.”
Grant smiled and reached over to grasp her hand. She laced their fingers together. He rounded the circular driveway and parked in front of the limestone steps that led to the front door. He met Melody at the front of the SUV and recaptured her hand as they navigated the stairs. The door swung open before they could knock.
“Melody, what a—” Elliot Kingman’s words abruptly cut off when he noticed Grant. Then his gaze travelled to their clasped hands and his lips tightened, but he managed a polite smile. “I see you’ve brought a friend. Please, come in.”
Kingman was about as Grant expected. Polished, elegant. Probably hadn’t gotten his hands dirty a day in his life. He was the kind of man that regularly scheduled manicures and had his brows plucked into perfect slashes. Still, there were heavy bags under his eyes and his hair was a bit unkempt. Something was eating at him.
Grant ushered Melody in front of him as they entered the foyer. The floor was covered in Carrera marble and on a side table, a large vase of colorful flowers took up residence beneath a painting hanging on the wall that Grant would bet a year’s salary was a knock-off. He wasn’t an art aficionado, but even he recognized a phony. As they passed, he noticed the flowers were made of plastic. He hated fake flowers.
“I saw the For Sale sign outside. You’re selling your beautiful home?” Melody asked casually.
“Yeah, I am. My father lives across town, so I’m moving to be closer to him.” Elliot indicated a deep brown leather sofa and headed to a mahogany bar in the corner. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” Melody said.
The question wasn’t directed to him, so he kept quiet and wound his arm around her shoulders as they sat side plastered to side on the sofa. He scanned the contents of the room. It wasn’t as neat and pristine as Grant would’ve thought. He assumed a man of Kingman’s standing would employ a housekeeper or maid to tidy up, but a layer of dust coated the table beside the couch and he’d noted several takeout boxes stuffed into the kitchen trash can when they passed. Even Kingman’s clothes were wrinkled. Definitely no help on premises.
He knew from the background check that Kingman was single, never married. His father lived in an assisted living complex across town, mother deceased. No brothers or sisters. No children.
Melody waited until Elliot joined them and took a seat in a matching wing chair, a glass containing a liberal dose of straight bourbon in his hand. The overhead light sparkled off a diamond ring on his pinky and the cuff of his shirt slipped down to reveal a diamond-encrusted Rolex. Grant bet it was a street-vendor knock-off, a Folex or something. The man wanted everyone to see him as the successful businessman, but he was clearly struggling. Had to be why he was selling his house.
“I’m glad you reconsidered my proposition, Melody. We’ll make a great team.” He toasted her with his snifter of amber liquid and took a drink.
“Deanna Prescott was murdered tonight.”
Elliot shot forward, liquid spewing from his mouth as he choked. He reached for a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his face. “W-what did you say?”
“Deanna was killed tonight when the bomb she brought to my store detonated.”
Elliot paled. “B-bomb?”
It was safe to say Elliot didn’t know about the explosive Burton Kline had provided to Deanna.
“You act as if you knew nothing about it, Elliot.”
“What? Of course I didn’t!”
“Oh, come on,” Melody cajoled. “You and Deanna were in on it together.”
Elliot placed his glass on the coffee table with a shaking hand. “In on what?”
“Destroying my company.”
He choked out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Melody. Why would I destroy your company when I’ve been pushing you for a partnership?”
“You and Deanna were having an affair.” When he opened his mouth, probably to deny the accusation, Melody held up a picture. “This was taken last week.”
Elliot’s gaze went from the picture to Melody. “So, we were having an affair. So what? We’re both adults. Unmarried. It’s not against the law.”
“Conspiracy is,” Grant drawled.
Elliot’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t respond.
“Deanna was killed while in the commission of a dangerous crime.” Melody repeated Grant’s earlier words to Kline. “That’s a felony murder charge for you, Elliot.”
He jumped to his feet. “Wait! I had nothing to do with the bomb. I didn’t even know about it.” He swallowed heavily. “She’s really dead?”
“She is. Are you saying you didn’t encourage her to work for me so she could destroy my business from the inside?”
He waved a hand, dismissing the notion. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“We just came from Deanna’s apartment. We found her diary. She detailed everything.”
Grant didn’t so much as twitch at Melody’s lie.
“That bitch!”
“She wrote that you were the one behind everything. She was going to turn my offer down, but you encouraged her to come work for me.”
Grant was in awe of her performance. They hadn’t found a diary, but Melody had deduced the plot perfectly. Beads of sweat had formed on Elliot’s forehead.
“I might have encouraged her to work for you, that’s true, but that was because I knew you would be a huge succ—”
“Stop with the lies.”
Elliot’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. I wanted her out of the office. She’d turned so possessive. If a woman even called for business, she accused me of cheating on her. Her jealousy was out of control.”
“That’s probably true,” Melody agreed. “But she wrote that you wanted her to spy on me, steal my products and destroy my business.”
Elliot’s defeated look morphed to dangerous in an instant. “You were supposed to take the deal I offered you. It was more than fair. We have resources you don’t. We could turn an average product into a blockbuster.”
“I don’t need you to do that, Elliot. Besides, you think I’d want to work with someone who first had absolutely no interest in my product and then turned around and sued me over it? Are you crazy?”
“No, I’m not crazy, and I’m not a murderer.”
“So, you admit to having Deanna steal Melody’s inventory, tamper with her pr
oducts and the threatening notes?” Grant asked.
“Fine. Yes. Are you happy?”
Melody shook her head slowly. “People are dead, Elliot. My shop and my house are destroyed. No, I’m not happy.”
“Look, I admitted to the tampering and the notes, but I swear I had nothing to do with the bomb.”
“We know,” Melody simply said.
Elliot’s head snapped to her. “What do you mean you know?”
“Burton Kline admitted to building and detonating the bomb.”
Elliot’s back slammed against the chair. “Burton Kline? What does he have to do with anything?”
“He was setting you up. He made it look like you gave Deanna the explosive but told her it was fake. She took it to my shop thinking you asked her to do it.”
Elliot’s hands clinched into fists. “I’ll kill him.”
“Too late. He’s already dead,” Grant informed him.
“The bomb got him, too?” He looked pleased by the thought.
“No, suicide by cop.”
Elliot took two steps forward. Grant balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to take the man down if he so much as dared to touch Melody. “Wait a minute. You knew Burton was responsible for the bomb when you arrived here, yet you accused me of the heinous act?”
“We did,” Melody agreed. “It worked. You confessed to the other crimes.”
“You dirty sl—”
Grant had him pinned against a wall with a hand wrapped around his neck before he could finish. “I would advise you to watch your mouth, Kingman.”
He finally nodded acquiescence so Grant released him. He rubbed his neck and looked utterly defeated. “It was nothing personal, Melody,” he sighed. “I really do think your product will be a success.”
“Then why?”
He lifted his hands in a hopeless gesture. “I needed money. I thought that if enough bad things happened, you’d see that you couldn’t go it alone. If we’d partnered, your products would have been the influx of cash Chem-Co desperately needed. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt and I certainly didn’t mean to destroy your business.” He eyed Grant. “Are you here to arrest me?”
Say Goodbye to Melody Page 18