What She Forgot

by Amanda Stevens

  “How did you continue your profession?” Troy asked.

  “My office was in my home, much like this,” she said. “I saw very few patients back then, and only referrals. I wrote books and papers, and concentrated almost solely on my research into behavioral modification. I had a housekeeper, a wonderful woman, who did everything for me. She was my companion, my friend and my buffer against the outside world. I don’t know what I would have done without her, because at the time, I was quite certain I would never again leave my home.”

  “What happened?”

  “One night a fire erupted in the house. The flames were everywhere, the smoke so thick I could hardly breathe. Even then, with my life hanging by a thread, and the firefighters trying to battle their way inside to save me, I didn’t think I could make myself crawl toward their voices. My fear was that great. But in the end, my instinct for survival won out, and I was forced to confront my fear.”

  “The housekeeper you talked about,” Troy said. “Was she the same woman I met earlier?”

  Dr. Bennett glanced away. A look of genuine distress crossed her features. “No. Marlena wasn’t as lucky as me. She died in the fire. In fact, the police said the blaze started in her room. She fell asleep while smoking a cigarette. Ironic, isn’t it, that she should be the one to be trapped inside that house instead of me?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The autopsy was performed on Richard Malone immediately. Troy met with the coroner, Dr. Nguyen, the next morning to determine the exact cause of death—a technicality in this case, considering the extent of damage wrought by the bullets.

  Dr. Nguyen launched into the medical specifics with gusto before Troy held up his hand to stop him. “Just tell me if you found anything unusual in the autopsy. Anything I should be aware of.”

  “We did find something interesting,” Dr. Nguyen said. “Richard Malone’s death resulted from the gunshot wounds he sustained to the heart, no question. But if the killer had waited, the victim would have been dead in six months anyway.”

  Troy glanced up. “Meaning?”

  “Richard Malone was dying of liver cancer.”

  * * *

  “DID YOU KNOW Richard was dying?”

  Dorian stared at Troy in shock. “What?”

  “Richard was dying of liver cancer. The coroner said he would probably have been dead within six months. Did either of you know?”

  Dorian visibly paled. She sat down heavily on the sofa, her eyes dark with disbelief. “That isn’t possible.”

  “It’s true,” Troy said. He turned to Robert Malone, who had poured himself a stiff drink at the bar.

  Robert’s hand trembled as he lifted the glass to his lips. “Richard never said a word to me.” His voice was raspy with shock. “I had no idea. Perhaps he didn’t know.”

  “He knew,” Troy said. “His personal physician corroborated the coroner’s report, as did his lawyer.”

  “Lawyer?” Dorian’s gaze suddenly became more alert, as did Robert’s. The two of them reminded Troy of vultures, picking at the remains.

  “He met with his lawyer shortly after he and Andrea married. According to his attorney, Richard was getting everything in order in preparation for his death. He made Andrea his daughter’s legal guardian, and he cleared the way for her to eventually adopt Mayela.”

  If possible, Dorian grew even paler, but her dark eyes flashed with rage. She jumped to her feet, her long red nails curled into claws. “That’s ridiculous. I’m the child’s grandmother.”

  “And I’m her uncle,” Robert said. “But I agree with Richard. Mayela belongs with Andrea.”

  “Over my dead body,” said Dorian. “That woman isn’t fit to raise a child, certainly not my granddaughter. She may have schemed her way into this house and into Richard’s affections, but she doesn’t fool me. I know how to deal with her kind.”

  “Watch yourself,” Robert advised.

  Dorian ignored him. She pointed a finger at Troy. “Andrea Evans murdered Richard. You know it as well as I do. Why haven’t you arrested her?”

  “This is an ongoing investigation,” Troy said. “We’re still gathering evidence. We have more than one suspect, Mrs. Andropoulos.”

  “You’re protecting her,” Dorian accused. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ve fallen for her just like every other man who comes into contact with her. You all make me sick.”

  “Dorian,” Robert warned.

  She turned on him. “Don’t ‘Dorian’ me. You’re no better than the rest of them. I’ve seen you lust after her, too. Your own brother’s wife. But she didn’t give you the time of day, did she? And do you know why? Because you’re not Richard. You’re nothing but a washed-up drunk who’d gamble away his own mother’s last cent if you got the chance.”

  Robert didn’t say anything to that. He lifted his glass and took a long drink, but Troy could see that his hands were still shaking badly, and his skin tone had deepened to a dull red. Dorian had humiliated and angered him, but Troy suspected she’d also hit a little too close to the truth.

  A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Troy’s attention, and he turned. Andrea stood in the foyer, just beyond the doorway. She made no move to join them, but he could tell from her expression that she’d heard everything they’d said, including Dorian’s accusations.

  Without a word, she turned and walked back up the stairs.

  * * *

  ANDREA STOOD on the balcony off Richard’s room and watched Troy drive away. She hadn’t spoken to him downstairs because she hadn’t known what to say. How to defend herself against Dorian’s accusations. How to respond to the knowledge that Richard had been dying of cancer before he was murdered.

  A chill of unease crept over her. Had she known? She must have, because Troy said that Richard had made her Mayela’s legal guardian, that he’d taken steps for her to adopt the little girl. Andrea had to have known, but who else had Richard told?

  Suddenly she remembered something Mayela had said the first night Andrea had been back. Daddy said you’d always be here to take care of me. Even when he’s not.

  Mayela had known, too. That must have been part of Richard’s preparations. He hadn’t wanted her to experience the same kind of shock she’d gone through when her mother had died so suddenly. He’d wanted to make it as easy for his daughter as possible, even going so far as to finding her a mother.

  Andrea’s heart tripped inside her. If she had known that Richard was dying, didn’t that let her off the hook as a suspect? Why would she kill him if he was dying? If she knew she would eventually get what she wanted?

  If you didn’t kill him, how did you know he was dead before the police found him? a little voice in the back of her mind asked. Why were you covered in blood that night?

  * * *

  THE FUNERAL on Saturday morning was a terrible ordeal. Andrea sat listening to Richard’s eulogy, holding tightly to Mayela’s little hand and wondering what the child must be feeling. She seemed so resolved on the outside, so stoic. But the world-weary expression in the little girl’s eyes broke Andrea’s heart. She was all Mayela had left, and Andrea’s own resolve strengthened. She would do whatever she had to do to protect her.

  But for how long? Dorian was the child’s grandmother. Would she have more rights than Andrea? Even though Richard had made her the legal guardian, would a court uphold his wishes? Or would Dorian, the child’s next of kin, be awarded custody?

  Two days later, on Monday morning, Andrea sat in the lawyer’s office with the same fears and waited for the reading of the will. Across the room, Dorian, dressed in widow’s black, stared at Andrea through the mesh veil of her hat. The woman’s hostility was almost a tangible thing, and Andrea shivered, realizing again how very much Dorian hated her.

  Robert sat next to Dorian, but the two were hardly allied. They hadn’t spoken since Robert had come into the room a few minutes ago and taken his seat. He stared straight ahead, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. T
oday he wasn’t even pretending to be relaxed. He was as tense as Dorian, and not once had he bothered to glance in Andrea’s direction.

  Paul Bellamy arrived late and sat behind Andrea. He made no move to touch her or to even speak to her, but Andrea could feel his eyes on her. The skin at the back of her neck crawled, and it was all she could do not to get up and leave. She didn’t belong here. What was she doing with these people?

  Finally the lawyer walked into the room, took his seat behind his desk and, with a flourish, took out Richard’s will. His gaze swept the room, making them all wait breathlessly. Then his eyes lit on Andrea, and he said, “Mrs. Malone, Richard has appointed you as executrix of his estate and as such, you will have full control of all assets, including the partnership in Malone International, until the child reaches the age of twenty-one.”

  Andrea sat stunned. She’d hoped and prayed that Mayela would be left in her care, but to be put in charge of Mayela’s fortune? What did Andrea know about managing an estate that large? What did she know about anything? A few short days ago, she hadn’t even known her own name.

  The lawyer must have sensed her distress. “Rest assured, Mrs. Malone, that this law firm will help you in any way we can. Perhaps you’d like to come back in a day or two when things have settled a bit and we can talk further.”

  Andrea nodded, but she still felt numb as she listened to the rest of the will. Richard’s legacy was quite simple. Mayela inherited almost everything—the cash, the real-estate holdings, the stocks and bonds and Richard’s partnership in Malone International.

  Dorian got nothing.

  Robert got nothing.

  Paul Bellamy got nothing.

  “And to my wife, Andrea Evans Malone, I bequeath the sum of ten million dollars.”

  Andrea gasped, the only sound made in the otherwise tomblike office. Ten million! Surely there must be some mistake. She and Richard had only been married a few weeks. Why would he leave her an amount so large? Why would he leave her anything, for that matter? They hadn’t really been husband and wife, had they? They’d slept in separate beds.

  Why had he made her his daughter’s legal guardian and the executrix of his estate? Why had he had so much faith in her?

  And why had he been killed?

  A dark premonition descended over Andrea. Richard’s bequest made her look even more guilty. No one else had benefited from his death. No one except Andrea.

  Dorian jumped to her feet. Fury contorted her face into an ugly mask. Her nostrils flared, her lips curled and Andrea thought the woman looked almost bestial in the cruel overhead lighting.

  “You won’t get away with this,” she said. “I’ll fight you for Mayela. There isn’t a court in this country that would allow my granddaughter to be raised by a murderess. I’ll make sure of that.”

  She grabbed up her purse and stalked out of the room. Paul Bellamy followed close behind, and Andrea wondered what strategy the two of them might be cooking up.

  The lawyer rose, too, and picked up his briefcase. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m due in another meeting. Call me in a day or two,” he said to Andrea.

  For an awkward moment, Andrea and Robert were left alone in the office. She wondered what he was thinking. There was an odd glint in his eyes that disturbed her. Then he shrugged, and the carefree Robert surfaced once again. “Congratulations.”

  An odd thing to say, Andrea thought, in light of his brother’s death.

  Robert shook his head. “I never thought he’d cut me out like that. He always threatened to, but I never thought he’d do it. When push came to shove, he was always there to bail me out. I thought surely—” He broke off, shaking his head again.

  “What will you do now?” Andrea asked.

  Robert shrugged again. “Get a job, I guess. Find an apartment. I’ll get by. I always do. Don’t worry about me.”

  “What about Dorian?” Andrea asked.

  “What about her?”

  “Will she stay in Houston?”

  “Oh, she’ll stay, all right. She won’t give up Mayela without a fight. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating her, Andrea. Dorian can be ruthless. I’ve seen her in action,” he said bitterly. “She won’t let anything stand in her way. Not you. Not even Mayela.”

  Andrea felt chilled all of a sudden. “Are you saying she’s dangerous?”

  “I’m saying she’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants. I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes right now,” he said cryptically before he turned and walked out of the room.

  Andrea stood in the empty office, feeling so completely alone. The weight of her responsibility pressed down on her. She was thankful that Mayela would remain with her, at least for now, but the money…all that money was an invitation to trouble.

  Maybe even to murder, she thought with a shiver.

  She was suddenly glad that Mayela had gone to spend the night with Lauren Perelli and her family. It would give Andrea a chance to make other living arrangements for them, because one thing was certain. She didn’t want Mayela going home to that mansion. Not while Dorian and Robert were still there.

  In spite of his warning about Dorian, Andrea didn’t trust Robert, either. She’d seen the greed and desperation in his eyes today when he learned he’d been cut from Richard’s will. How far would he be willing to go to get his hands on his brother’s money?

  A few minutes later, Andrea stepped outside the building into the blinding glare of the sun. She put up a hand to shade her eyes just as someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. Andrea gasped when she saw Paul Bellamy’s dark expression. No wonder he’d left the lawyer’s office behind Dorian. He’d been lying in wait outside.

  “We have to talk.” He clutched her arms, his expression more urgent than angry.

  “What about?”

  “You know damn well what about. The partnership should be mine. I’ve worked my ass off for that company. If it wasn’t for me, Malone International would have gone down the toilet years ago while Richard blithely conducted his little survival missions and executive-training courses. I’m the one who made that company what it is today. Malone International is mine, and neither you nor anyone else is going to take it away from me.”

  The desperate look in his eyes frightened Andrea. She was glad they were standing on a public street, in plain view of passersby.

  “I don’t know anything about running a company,” she said, trying to appease him for the moment. “There’s no reason why things have to change at Malone International. You’ll still be in charge.”

  “I’m glad you’re being so reasonable.” His expression altered subtly. His gaze deepened and dropped to her lips. “I like it when you cooperate.”

  Andrea shuddered, hating his touch. Hating the fact that she may have once invited that touch. She lifted both hands to shove him away when she glimpsed a familiar face on the street.

  Troy!

  Troy looking at her in disgust. Troy seeing her in Paul Bellamy’s arms and thinking the worst.

  Troy turning and walking away.

  * * *

  TROY HADN’T BEEN ABLE to get the image of Andrea and Paul Bellamy out of his head all day. He stood on the balcony of his apartment and sipped his drink as he watched twilight deepen to darkness. He couldn’t help remembering the possessive way Bellamy had acted toward Andrea that day in her hospital room, when he said he’d come to take her home. Troy had sensed something was going on then, but he’d told himself it was probably nothing more than his imagination. His own possessive feelings toward Andrea kicking in.

  After today, he wasn’t so sure. They’d been standing so close, she and Bellamy. Right out there on the street. And Bellamy had been touching her.

  Troy’s grip tightened on his glass. He’d hated seeing Andrea like that. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being with another man. Not Paul Bellamy. Not Richard Malone. Not anyone but him.

  You’re a fool, Troy told himself as he refilled his glass from the whiskey bottle he�
��d carried outside. But that admonishment didn’t stop him from wondering what Andrea was doing at that very moment.

  Was she alone, like him? Or was she with Paul Bellamy? Were the two of them celebrating tonight? Richard was dead, and Andrea now controlled his millions. For all Troy knew, this had been her game plan all along. Hers and Bellamy’s. If they’d been having an affair, that gave them both the perfect motive for murder.

  But even as Troy devised the scenario in his head, there was one thing he couldn’t quite resolve. The way Andrea felt about Mayela. The way she was so protective toward the little girl.

  Could that be an act, too?

  Maybe, but he was hard-pressed to believe anyone could be that good an actress. It had been his experience that kids weren’t easily taken in. If Andrea was putting on an act, if she wasn’t genuinely fond of Mayela, the kid would know it. But Mayela seemed to return her affection wholeheartedly. She obviously loved Andrea as much as…

  He did.

  Damn. Falling in love with a suspect was never a good idea.

  He finished off the last of the whiskey in his glass and poured himself another drink. The doorbell rang, and Troy considered ignoring it. He didn’t feel much like company tonight, but then he figured, what the hell? If he stayed out here all night, he’d just get drunk, and then he’d have to drag himself out of bed in the morning and feel like crap for the rest of the day. Wasn’t worth it.

  But when he drew back the door and saw who stood on the other side, he thought again how a woman like her was nothing but trouble for a man like him.

  Andrea saw the drink in his hand and looked at him uncertainly. “Am I…interrupting something?”

  “No. Come on in.” He stood back while she entered, then closed the door behind her. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t drink.”

  “A little something else you remembered?” He knew his tone sounded accusing, but damn it, he couldn’t help it. Who did she think she was, coming over here like this, looking all soft and feminine and vulnerable? He wondered if she had an idea the picture she made standing in his living room, wearing a black knit dress and pearls and dark stockings that made him want to—