by Cassie Miles
“You look like a 1950s housewife.”
“Perfect! That’s non-threatening and approachable.”
And maybe a little bit weird. “I liked the black leather biker chick outfit. Dressed like that, you could get tough with Loretta and make demands.”
Ruby pointed a manicured black fingernail at her. “That’s going to be your role. You’ll be the bad cop, and I’ll be the good cop.”
Gennie lacked experience in interrogation techniques and didn’t want to get complicated. “Role playing? I don’t think so.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” She flounced and preened in front of the full-length mirror. “I’ll tell the sister-in-law that we want to help her, and you can scare her with threats about what’s going to happen if she doesn’t turn over that letter.”
“I’m not the bad cop.”
“Really?”
“And this isn’t a game.” Gennie had never been a girlie girl who liked to dress up and parade around. She stood and went to the window—amazed that there was actually a window in the closet. “Dean Slocum was murdered, and the killer is still out there. We can’t ignore the danger.”
“Oooh, that’s good. You’ll scare the Spanks off Loretta.”
Harrison tapped on the door. “Are you decent? Mrs. Slocum wants to talk to you.”
A shiver trembled across Ruby’s shoulders, and Gennie was glad to see that glimmer of fear. Ruby wasn’t an airhead. She knew there was danger. “What should I do?”
“Tell Harrison to escort her into the closet,” Gennie advised. “One look at this wardrobe and she’ll be stunned into silence.”
When the angry little woman from Tennessee came into the room, she was the opposite of silent. Instead, she belted out an OMG, which was followed by a series of oohs and aahs as she circled the closet, greeting the designer clothes and shoes by name—Dior, Louboutin, St. Laurent, Prada—as though they were old friends. Her rapid tour came to an end in front of Ruby.
Shoving her curly brown perm off her forehead, Loretta stamped her foot, sending a jiggle through her plump body. Her blue eyes fired daggers and her lips twisted in a scowl. “I was right about you, Ruby. You are a bona fide gold digger.”
“Good point,” Gennie said, stepping forward. “When Ruby married the general, she struck it rich. Look around this closet. It’s a treasure trove. And you know what that means?”
“What?” Loretta demanded.
“Ruby wasn’t after your brother-in-law’s money. She’s got plenty of her own.”
“But she kissed him.”
“No, I did not,” Ruby said. “I was never attracted to Dean, not in the least.”
“Understandable,” Loretta said with a smug grin. “Dean got the smarts in the family, and my husband is the handsome one. Buddy is taller and doesn’t look like an albino freak show.”
Gennie winced at the description. Loretta didn’t have much affection for her brother-in-law. And yet, he’d sent her that letter, which could be used for blackmail. Were Loretta and Buddy working as partners? Turning that idea over in her mind, Gennie tried to think of a way to ease into the topic.
Ruby had distracted Loretta with shoes. Though there was a six-inch difference in their height, they both wore size seven and a half. Sitting on a velvet bench, Loretta tried on a pair of silver platform sandals with an ankle strap. She stood and strutted. The silver matched a stripe on the black leather purse slung across her shoulder, and the shoes actually looked good paired with the black leggings she wore under a flowered tunic.
“Those are perfect for you. I want you to have them,” Ruby said. “Maybe we can make a trade. You have something I want.”
“Aren’t you the sweetest thing? But you can’t buy me off with a pair of secondhand sandals even if they look like they were custom made for my feet.” Like a magpie searching for shiny objects, Loretta fluttered around the closet until she found the pullout shelves filled with costume jewelry. “A silver necklace might be nice or pearls like the ones you’re wearing.”
Gennie had the feeling that this fashion show could drag on forever. She’d run out of patience. “Sit down, Loretta. We need to talk.”
“You have no call to be rude.”
“Sit.” Gennie stood over Loretta and waited until she lowered her bottom onto one of the velvet benches. “Pay attention. This is something you need to hear.”
“Fine.”
“I was one of the first people who discovered Dean’s body in the library. The first thing I saw was blood. He was sprawled back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. He’d been stabbed in the chest with a double-edged blade, but he didn’t die right away. He struggled, tried to run, tried to fight back. Blood was everywhere, streaks of it colored his face and matted in his hair. And then, the killer slashed his throat. Unable to call for help, he drowned in his own blood. Not an easy death.”
Both women stared at her wide-eyed.
“Why are you telling me this?” Loretta asked in a tiny voice.
“The killer might strike again. You need to be careful, both of you.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Loretta said.
“The killer might see it differently,” Gennie explained. “He or she might think you were involved. If you weren’t, why did Dean send you that letter?”
“Maybe he was proud of himself for nailing the general’s wife.”
“Nobody nailed me,” Ruby snapped.
Gennie stood over the short round woman from Nashville, blocking her escape. “Did Dean send you anything else, like other letters or photos or recordings?”
“Maybe he did.” Her gaze darted. “I never did anything with the stuff he sent. I barely even looked at it.”
If Dean Slocum was running an extortion scam, which Gennie thought was likely, he might have been using his sister-in-law as an insurance policy. He’d tell the people he was blackmailing that he had the evidence hidden in a safe place, and it would only be exposed if he was hurt or injured. If that was the case, Loretta was in deep, deep trouble.
“Did you bring the things Dean sent with you?”
“Sure did, but they’re not the originals.” Loretta dug into her purse with the silver stripe and pulled out a powder blue cell phone. “It’s all in here.”
“My letter,” Ruby said. “Do you have it in there?”
“Just a copy,” Loretta explained. “Dean bought me this nice phone about a year ago. Every once in a while, he’d send me documents in a closed file for safekeeping.”
“But you figured out how to open the files,” Gennie guessed.
“There are some really gross photos. You wouldn’t believe the sick, ugly things people do to each other.”
“You need to turn your phone over to the FBI.”
“Wait,” Ruby said. “Maybe she should hold on to her phone.”
Gennie could see the two of them forming an alliance. Ruby would go to great lengths to keep the letter away from her husband, and Loretta sensed opportunity. She wanted her chance to get rich like her blackmailing brother-in-law.
“You’re in danger,” Gennie said, loud and clear.
Loretta stood and sidled closer to Ruby. “The way I see it, the files on my phone mean nothing. Dean must have hidden the originals. It’s worth checking his house.”
“I’ll drive,” Ruby said.
“Bad idea,” Gennie said as she blocked the exit. “You could be murdered.”
“That’s why you’re coming along,” Ruby said. “Gennie, you’re my bodyguard.”
She and Loretta were already marching out the door. Gennie had no choice. She had to protect these two crazy ladies.
Chapter Twelve
Gennie wished she’d been more convincing as the “bad cop.” She should have been tough and kickass. Should have drawn her Beretta, forced Ruby to back down a
nd shot Loretta in her shiny new silver sandals. Instead, she was riding in the back seat of a luxury SUV while Ruby drove and Loretta sat in the passenger seat and schemed.
The best Gennie could hope for was to minimize the damage. She’d already taken a strategic precaution—something she hoped Loretta wouldn’t notice.
“I never should have written that letter,” Ruby said.
“If it wasn’t about Dean,” Loretta said, “who was the guy?”
“His name is Kenneth Warrick. He’s a hot, sexy bad boy. All I did was kiss him, nothing else.”
“Was he worth it?” Loretta asked slyly.
“Not even close. No other man compares to my husband. I don’t know what came over me. Warrick is seductive in a creepy way. You can ask Gennie. She was engaged to him.”
Loretta peeked around the passenger seat to look at her. “You?”
“It was long ago, another lifetime.”
“But now you’re falling for that Noah Sheridan. Am I right?”
“He’s my boss.” She pressed her back into the smooth leather seat, wanting to disappear. When Noah found out what she’d done, he’d be furious. She wouldn’t blame him if he fired her. Using her cell phone, she sent him a text, outlining their plan to visit Dean’s house in south Denver and then return to the mansion.
“Once we get there,” Loretta said, “we’ll go in different directions to search for the originals. The actual stuff Dean sent me was six letters, seventy-two email transcripts, a handful of receipts and twenty-seven photos—enough to fill a legal-size manila envelope. But you should keep in mind that we might be looking for something tiny, like the key to a safe deposit box.”
“If we find this stuff,” Ruby said, “what are we going to do with it?”
Loretta answered quickly. “Not blackmail, I won’t do anything illegal. But there are media outlets that pay for these kinds of stories. And I just happen to have a podcast of my very own. I can use this dirt from Dean to further my journalistic career.”
“Like a gossip reporter,” Ruby said.
“Exactly, I could get my own reality show.”
Gennie groaned. The Loretta Slocum Show was a scary thought.
“Here’s something I don’t understand,” Ruby said. “Why didn’t Dean leave these documents with his attorney?”
Loretta shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t trust the guy.”
“Have you talked to the lawyer? Do you know what you’re going to inherit?”
“Dean’s will was simple and straightforward. Except for a couple of stipends to special friends, the whole inheritance—the cash and the property—goes to Buddy.”
“Whoa,” Gennie said, pulling back on invisible reins. “This doesn’t make sense, Loretta. You’re already rich. Why mess around with Dean’s dirty little secrets?”
“It’s the principle of the thing. I could be rich...and famous, too.”
“If you had a reality show,” Ruby said, “I’d watch.”
Don’t encourage her. “What does Buddy think of your plan?”
“The big lug is okay with anything I do. He’s no genius, but he’s not stupid. In fact, he’s one of the best mechanics in Nashville.” She ran her fingers along the console of Ruby’s luxury SUV. “He handles a lot of high-end vehicles like this one. He’s shown me how to make repairs and adjustments in case I ever run into car trouble.”
Following the GPS directions, Ruby took a right turn onto a pleasant street where mature trees shaded the sidewalks. Most of the houses had white or beige siding and were more modern in design than Gennie’s north Denver neighborhood. Dean’s address was the second from the corner on the right—a one-story beige brick with a small covered porch. The moment the SUV parked, Loretta flung her door open and charged toward the front door, moving at a surprising rate of speed for someone wearing platform sandals.
“Wait,” Gennie called after her. Hadn’t Loretta been listening to the warnings about bloody murder and danger? “You need to be careful.”
“It’s all right,” Loretta said with a wave. “I have a key.”
“Stay close to me,” Gennie instructed Ruby. She vaulted across the lawn, caught up with Loretta on the porch, grasped her arm and held her against the wall beside the mailbox.
“What are you doing?” Loretta demanded.
“My job,” Gennie said. “Neither of you are going to get killed on my watch. That means I enter the house first and make sure there’s nothing dangerous inside.”
“You heard her,” Ruby said.
With an angry flounce, Loretta stepped away from the door.
Gennie took her Beretta from the holster. Her instincts told her that something was wrong—nothing she could clearly identify but there was a stink of danger that reminded her of military exercises in Afghanistan. She wasn’t going to like whatever was inside this house.
Trying to pinpoint the threat, she listened intently. It was totally quiet. There were no birds or squirrels in the trees. The blinds were drawn so she couldn’t see inside. When she opened the screen door, she noticed that the painted gray door was slightly ajar.
She glanced over her shoulder at the other two women. “Wait here.”
Before Loretta could whine and make objections, Gennie shoved the door open and rushed inside with her Beretta held in both hands, ready to aim and fire. The house felt empty, desolate and ruined. It had been trashed. Furniture was overturned, papers scattered and books pulled from their shelves.
She made a quick circuit of the living room, dining room and kitchen where the contents of the refrigerator were strewn on the tile floor and every cabinet door hung open. She returned to the front door where she motioned for Ruby and Loretta to come inside. “Stay by the door and be quiet while I make sure the rest of the house is clear.”
“I have a gun,” Ruby said.
“What?”
“I stuck it in my purse before we left the house.”
“Leave it in your purse.” She hurried down the hall, checked out the bathroom and bedrooms and came back to Ruby and Loretta. “Whoever did this is gone.”
Loretta had taken Ruby’s gun. She brandished the weapon as she stalked through the house. In the living room, she snatched a sofa cushion that had been slashed open. “This is my inheritance. Why would somebody do this to me?”
“I doubt it was personal,” Gennie said. “Not unless they’d met you.”
Ruby trembled, obviously shaken. “They were looking for evidence. Just like us.”
Loretta came back and stood before them. “Now what? How can we tell if they found what they were looking for?”
“We can’t,” Gennie said as she took out her cell phone. “Conventional wisdom says that a search will cease as soon as the object is located. Since I see no sign of this quest ending, I’d guess that they weren’t successful.”
“Dean owned two other properties. We need to go to those.” Loretta pivoted and scanned the torn apart room. “First, we should make sure it’s not here.”
“But we’re not going to do any searching,” Gennie said. “I’m calling the FBI.”
“Why?”
“This is a crime scene. They have forensic investigators who can find clues to identify the person who did this.”
“I can’t take any more.” With a little sob, Ruby leaned against the wall by the door. “I need to sit down.”
In spite of her exquisite makeup, she looked pale and exhausted. Though Gennie knew they shouldn’t touch anything and leave fingerprints, she directed Ruby to the dining room table and found a chair where she could rest and catch her breath.
“It’s going to be all right,” Gennie said.
“I should have told Roger. He’ll forgive me, won’t he?” There was a catch in her voice. “He has to forgive me. I can’t live without him.”
Gennie wished she
could offer reassurance. She’d always felt that the cornerstone of any relationship was trust, and you can’t believe in someone if they’re lying. Her blunt, direct style hadn’t always served her well, which might be why she was alone. “You owe your husband the truth.”
“He’s a good man.” She clutched Gennie’s hand. “He really wants the best for you.”
Gennie heard the subtle beep from a luxury SUV. She looked for Loretta. The small woman from Tennessee was nowhere in sight. Gennie and Ruby got to the front door in time to see Loretta wave from the driver’s seat and pull away from the curb.
“What the hell?” Ruby’s malaise was eclipsed by her anger. “The bitch is stealing my car.”
“When she took your gun from your purse, she must have grabbed the ignition fob.”
“She won’t get away with this,” Ruby said. “My SUV has a tracking system. We’ll know exactly where she is.”
“Or she could disable that system.” Hadn’t Loretta told them that she knew how to make adjustments to luxury cars? “It’s time for me to call the FBI.”
Maybe the federal agents would have more luck in controlling a greedy little woman in silver shoes.
* * *
NOAH HAD ACCOMPLISHED his number one goal: establishing renewed trust with the general. They became allies when Haymarket started considering the potential military ramifications—especially arms smuggling—of Dean Slocum’s murder. As soon as the general discovered that his wife and Loretta had taken off, he wanted to hire a couple of full-time bodyguards from ARC. Immediately, Noah set those wheels in motion. That was the good news.
The bad news was Gennie. For some unknown reason, she’d allowed herself to be drawn into what sounded like a lunatic scheme at Slocum’s south Denver house. Making things worse, Loretta had stolen Ruby’s car and disconnected the tracking system so she couldn’t be traced.
Sitting rigid in the passenger seat of his SUV, Gennie stared through the windshield. There was no need to scold her. Regret and frustration swirled around her, but she hadn’t fallen apart. While the general and the feds questioned her—she remained stoic, taking their criticism without flinching.