by Kara Lennox
“Any man in particular?”
Celeste flashed a sly smile. “I thought we were here to talk about you.”
“I’m interested in how you managed your role as a woman in law enforcement. I could learn so much from you.”
“You don’t want to take the route I did,” Celeste said firmly. “Honestly, you don’t.” There seemed to be a world of hurt in her advice. Jillian wanted to know more, but Celeste had closed the door.
Celeste topped off her wine. “So what’s going on with your case? Have you discovered anything juicy?”
“So far I’ve managed to uncover an office-supply thief and overhear some rather unpleasant comments about myself.”
“How are you getting along with your boss?”
“Horribly! I don’t know how I can stand another minute working for him, but I know I have to. The only good thing is that Hamilton Payne, the CEO, arranged it so I could plan the company party. That way I have an excuse for talking to everybody and being all over the building.”
“At least party planning is something you’re good at.” Celeste clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, that came out wrong. You’re good at many things.”
“In all honesty, I’m looking forward to planning the party. I’ll be working with some of the executives’ wives, and I’m hoping they’ll drop some good gossip. I’ll be spending less time with Conner, too.” She ought to feel good about that, but she was a little bit sad that Conner hadn’t fought harder to keep her working exclusively for him.
“Oh, dear.” Celeste suddenly looked so horrified, Jillian was worried she was having a heart attack or something.
“Oh, dear, what?”
“You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”
“The ogre? No! He’s a horrible, sexist beast who only treats me with the barest hint of civility because he’s realized how much he needs me. I hate him!”
Celeste just shook her head. “Exactly as I thought.”
Jillian followed her inside. “No, really, Celeste. Just because I had a little thing for Daniel doesn’t mean I’ll make a habit of falling for every guy I work for. Conner Blake is a jerk.”
She realized she was babbling, protesting way too much. Celeste had seen through Jillian instantly. How much did she give away? She’d always thought herself adept at hiding her feelings. Either Celeste was extraordinarily perceptive, or Jillian wasn’t as good as she thought she was.
“I’m only going to say this once,” Celeste said. “If you make a fool of yourself over your boss, no one will ever take you seriously.”
“I know that. I know.” Thank goodness she hadn’t confessed the kiss to Celeste, who would go nuts.
In the kitchen, Celeste opened the oven and peered at the casserole dish there. “I think these are done.”
“It smells terrific.” Jillian was glad to move on to a new topic of conversation. “Is it chicken?”
“No, frog legs. I went frog gigging last night at the golf course. Got some nice fat ones.”
Jillian’s stomach turned a somersault. So much for thinking Celeste lived a normal home life.
* * *
JILLIAN FOUND IT DIFFICULT to believe Ariel Cuddy was married to such a schmuck. For one thing, Ariel was about fifteen years younger than Isaac.
And she was beautiful—not trophy-wife beautiful, more like the wholesome girl next door. She and Isaac had been married eight years, they had a six-year-old son, and by all counts Ariel was deliriously happy with him.
Either she didn’t know about her husband’s crimes, or she chose to turn a blind eye to his faults.
“I just love planning a party,” Ariel enthused as they wandered the aisles of the local Savers Party Outlet with their lists in hand. At the party outlet, you didn’t have to bother with pushing a cart around. You just scanned the bar code of anything you wanted, paid for it, and the store would deliver it at the time and place you wanted. “Especially with someone who knows how to spend money. Of course it’s terrible about Stan being in jail, but honestly, his wife is such a penny-pincher. She’ll drive to ten stores just to save three cents on paper plates.”
“We do have to stay within budget,” Jillian reminded Ariel. She’d finally gotten the budget from Isaac, and the spending limit had shocked her. But Isaac had hemmed and hawed about the recession and cutbacks, plus the losses he anticipated due to their CEO being in prison, and she’d immediately backed off, grateful she’d been given any budget at all.
It was only a fraction of the money she’d spent on Daniel’s parties, but she wasn’t planning on ice sculptures or a fireworks display. She and Ariel had decided on an old-fashioned potluck picnic. For a venue, they’d chosen the company’s original mill site, which was now a historical park a couple of hours’ drive from the office. Buses would ferry the employees and their families.
The company would provide various barbecued meats as well as drinks. Joyce’s husband had volunteered to scare up several propane grills and organize the grilling. There would be games like lawn bowling and croquet, kite-flying, pony rides and face-painting for the kids, and gift cards for prizes.
“One year, Stan donated a car as a prize,” Ariel remarked as she scanned some festive paper tablecloths. “Those were the days.”
“Times are leaner right now,” Jillian said. “But really, this party should be about standing together. Strengthening relationships. Being grateful for the things we do have.”
“Of course. But you forgot getting drunk.” They’d just cruised into the liquor section. “I’ve discovered that partygoers will forgive you anything so long as the liquor flows.”
“Good point. We’ll need a bartender.”
“My brother will do it,” Ariel said. “He’s good and he works cheap.” She made a note to call him. “Oh, I just thought of something. We need to send a special invitation to Chandra. Could we maybe spring for a limo?”
“She’s Conner’s ex-wife,” Jillian pointed out. “Won’t it be a bit awkward, having her there?”
“Awkward or not, we have to include her. I hate thinking about this, but at some point, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, Chandra will own Mayall Lumber.”
Jillian skidded to a stop. “What? Really?”
“Stan owns fifty-one percent of the company. Chandra is his only heir—her father, Stan’s only child, died years ago.”
“Does she know anything about running a company?”
“Doubtful. And knowing her, she won’t do something smart, like hiring Isaac to run the company for her. She’ll either name herself CEO, pay herself an exorbitant salary and run the company into the ground, or she’ll put it on the auction block. Either way…let’s just say, this is probably the last company party.”
Why hadn’t Jillian seen it before? Chandra was the perfect suspect. She had a helluva motive for getting rid of her grandfather. Jillian already knew Chandra was hurting for money, that she couldn’t come up with the cash for her desired butt lift. Maybe her whole reason for getting involved in a clandestine affair with Greg was to kill him and frame Stan.
Also…very interesting that Isaac thought he should be named CEO. Maybe he and Chandra were in cahoots. He helps her frame Stan for murder, and in return she names him CEO. Someone had to hoist that heavy dead body into Stan’s trunk.
Better than that modest pension Isaac would otherwise get.
Jillian couldn’t wait to tell Daniel of her new insight.
“I don’t know about a limo,” Jillian said, “but we can certainly spring for a nice car and driver to pick her up and bring her to the picnic.”
“Whatever you do, remember she might be the one who has to approve your next raise. Oh, and Conner probably won’t come anyway. He avoids stuff like that since the divorce.”
They went a little wild in the liquor department, but the prices were shockingly low, not like what Daniel spent on his Crown Royal, Grey Goose and Dom Pérignon.
Next they headed into the cleaning-supply section. �
�We’ll need garbage bags,” Ariel said. “Oh, and I need to pick up a few things for myself. I’ll pay for them separately, if that’s okay.”
“Sure, no problem.”
They scanned a box of heavy-duty garbage bags, then Ariel scanned four large bottles of bleach.
What the hell did she need that much bleach for? Was she running a laundry business on the side?
Or…bleach could be used to clean up blood. Jillian had learned that in her crime scene investigation class. Greg Tynes had been killed at some unknown location and dumped in Stan’s trunk. Maybe the location was the Cuddy home?
Jillian pulled her head out of party mode. This was her prime chance to pump Ariel for gossip; she’d already opened up about Stan’s wife being a penny-pincher and Chandra being Stan’s heir.
“So you really think Chandra will take over the company?”
“If she does, and Isaac isn’t named CEO, he’s taking early retirement. Thank goodness he’s saved up a healthy nest egg. I don’t know how he does it on his salary.”
He rips off the company, that’s how. Jillian wondered just how big of a nest egg. Could Isaac retire on the proceeds from pilfered pens and pads of paper?
Jillian had been playing around with the list of passwords she’d seen in Isaac’s office. She hadn’t found an eBay store, but she’d hacked into his bank account. He had thousands of dollars transferring from somewhere into a separate checking account every month. Maybe it was from perfectly legal investments…or maybe the money was coming from his illicit sales.
After paying for their purchases and scheduling delivery, Ariel drove them back to her house, where Jillian had left her car. The Cuddy home was an ostentatious McMansion in a gated subdivision, exactly the sort of place an upwardly mobile executive and his family should live.
“Do you mind if I come in to get a drink of water before I head home?” Jillian asked innocently.
“Water? Honey, it’s legally cocktail hour. Why don’t you wait out rush hour here and we’ll have some wine on the patio? After all that shopping, my feet could use a dip in the Jacuzzi.”
“What a lovely idea, thanks.” It would give her the perfect chance to snoop, maybe find a large bloodstain. She hated to think of Ariel, who seemed very sweet, as taking part in a murder cover-up, but she had a lot to protect.
“And you can tell me what it’s like to work for that delicious Conner Blake. Don’t get me wrong, I love Isaac, but Conner wakes up my kitty, if you know what I mean.”
Great. Had Isaac told his wife about finding Conner and Jillian kissing in his office? Was her new friend hinting around for details?
Ten minutes later, they were seated on the edge of the Cuddys’ opulent hot tub, chilled glasses of wine in hand, their feet being treated to a massage of bubbles.
“So, dish,” Ariel said. “What’s he like? Has he gotten you in the sack yet?”
Jillian pretended coyness, but she was sure her face was turning bright red. “Of course not. He’s my boss, I can’t sleep with him.”
“Come on, Isaac saw you two kissing.”
“We…we did, but that’s as far as it went. My career is very important to me. I can’t jeopardize it.”
“A career is nice, but this—” she spread her arms to encompass her patio, her yard, her home “—this is heaven. I worked in the accounting department at Mayall before Isaac scooped me up. I loved the work—I even kept working for a while, until I had Benjamin. Now I wouldn’t go back to my calculator for anything.”
Jillian had to admit, her womb had tingled just a bit when Ariel’s little boy had rushed to greet his mom upon her arrival home from shopping, hugging her, then jabbering about his day at school, showing her his drawing from art class, then waving shyly at Jillian before rushing away.
“I want marriage and family someday,” Jillian said, meaning it. “But I really, really want a career. I want to make a difference in the world.”
“And when you lay eyes on that red, squalling bundle in the hospital, you realize you have your chance to make a difference. You have eighteen years to raise that tiny human being into a responsible adult. Could there be anything more exciting, more challenging, more important?”
Jillian couldn’t help but be moved by Ariel’s passion as a mother. “When you put it that way… I’m not keeping you from family time, am I?”
“No, please, no. Plenty of time later to be wife and mommy. Isaac is playing squash—he won’t be home for hours.”
Squash—right. Jillian pulled her feet out of the hot tub. At least Isaac wouldn’t come home and find her here. “Can you point me toward the bathroom?”
“Sure. Just off the kitchen, down the hallway by the fridge.”
Perfect. Jillian entered the home through the patio French doors, but she didn’t use the bathroom. Instead she made a whirlwind search of the downstairs, peering under furniture, lifting up one end of an Oriental rug, sticking her head into one doorway after another.
Nothing.
Her kamikaze pathway led her eventually to the three-car garage. Ariel’s Jaguar occupied one stall; a second one, where Isaac undoubtedly parked, was empty. The third stall was stacked floor to ceiling with boxes, all covered with blue tarps and bungee cords.
She had a few more seconds before her trip to the bathroom would seem ridiculously long; she dashed across the garage and peeked under the tarp.
Computers. Printers. Scanners. Desk chairs, lamps, rugs. She’d found the mother lode of stolen office supplies.
Just then the automatic garage door opened. Oh, no! Panicking, Jillian dashed toward the door into the house. She slammed it behind her just as Isaac’s car entered.
Had he seen her?
She scurried back to the patio door, then slowed to a leisurely walk, hoping her breathing didn’t give her away. “I think Isaac’s home,” she announced casually. “And I better get home, too. Laundry calls.”
Ariel jumped to her feet. “Oh, he’s early.” For half a second, she looked disappointed. Then she composed herself. “It was so much fun shopping with you, hon. We’ll get the rest of the spouses together next week and we can organize all the tasks.”
“Absolutely.”
She did her best to hustle Jillian out the front door, but they didn’t make it before Isaac strolled into the living room and spotted her.
Jillian steeled herself for his reaction.
He smiled and embraced Ariel, giving her a big smooch on the cheek. “Hello, my love. Hope I didn’t interrupt your meeting, but John strained his shoulder and we quit early. Jillian—nice to see you.”
“H-hello, Mr. Cuddy.”
“Please, we’re not at work. You can call me Isaac.”
Obviously he didn’t want to be his usual nasty self in front of his wife.
“Okay…Isaac. Sorry, but I have to run.”
Ariel gave her a warm hug. “I’ll call you. Maybe we can do lunch later in the week.”
“Sure. Bye, now.”
Jillian’s heart didn’t resume a normal pace until she was through the neighborhood gates. That was way too close for comfort. But she could tell Conner what she’d found—enough evidence to get Cuddy fired and maybe jailed.
And she would tear apart a family in the process and lose her new friend.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“WHOA, WHOA, SLOW DOWN. You went to Isaac Cuddy’s house?”
Jillian had come to Conner first thing that morning, babbling about a cache of stolen goods in Isaac Cuddy’s garage.
Jillian took a deep breath, making her breasts rise and fall beneath her tailored purple blouse. “Ariel and I were working on the party. She invited me in for a drink. I was looking for the bathroom and I ended up in the garage, and there was all this stuff, hardly even hidden at all.”
“I can’t go accusing a man of theft because he has some computers in his garage. I have an old computer or two in my garage, doesn’t mean I stole them.”
“This was brand-new merchandise,” Ji
llian said. “Chairs, lamps, rugs all still wrapped in plastic. I think he’s purchasing items through his department, then having it delivered to his home. Who would know? Who double-checks that kind of thing? He’s the budget director, and Stan, his only boss, is in prison.”
“Hamilton Payne is his boss. I’m sure there are accounting checks and balances—”
“Mr. Payne is overworked and in over his head,” Jillian said, though how she would know that was a mystery. “Also, Isaac is planning to retire if…if Mr. Mayall doesn’t return. Ariel said they have a big nest egg, a lot bigger than she thought he could save given his salary.”
Conner pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, boy.”
“Maybe you could talk to security? They could look into it. Go over the books. Do an inventory. The man is robbing the company blind. The company’s future is already in jeopardy because of Mr. Mayall’s…situation. If the company’s financial health is undermined, too—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
That was it? “So I’m supposed to go back to my desk and do my job? Next thing I know, you’ll be patting me on the head and giving me a cookie.”
“Jillian, you’re a new hire, and you’re a clerical worker. You have no authority, you haven’t built any trust. If you rub people the wrong way, you’ll get fired. It’s as simple as that.”
The look of hurt and defeat on her face squeezed his heart, an organ he’d thought safely encased in stone.
“Why do you care?” he asked, genuinely wanting to know. “Even if what you say is true—”
“If? You don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m sure you saw something—”
“I have a nearly perfect photographic memory. I know what I saw.”
“Would you please let me finish?”
She looked down at her pink, pointy-toed pumps. “Yes, sir.”