by Kara Lennox
“And why was Conner with you?”
“He hitched a ride with me. To save gas. He had business at the mill as well—as he explained earlier. He needed to talk to the manager about some bird’s-eye maple.”
“You’ve been working closely with Conner for a couple of weeks, now, is that right?”
“Yes. Project Justice arranged for me to fill the vacancy of Conner’s assistant as my cover. But it became necessary to bring him into our confidence, so we were working together, trying to figure out who might have killed Greg and framed Stan.”
“Did you come up with any theories about that?”
“I have several theories. Would you like to hear them?”
“I’d be delighted.” Why did she get the idea that Vale was humoring her?
She went over her theories—that Greg was involved in something illegal; that someone had paid him to make his employer look bad; that Mark Bowen had learned the truth and confronted the murderer. She told him about Isaac Cuddy, the office thief, who could be involved in other nefarious activities.
“Finally,” she said, “I hesitate to mention this, but…Chandra Mayall, Stan’s granddaughter, was dating Greg Tynes. Isn’t the significant other always a suspect?”
Vale didn’t even look surprised. “I’ll forward your theories to the Houston police.”
Conner must have already told the detective everything.
Vale drummed his fingers on the table. “You don’t think Greg’s choice of girlfriend might have infuriated Conner?”
“Made him jealous? Enough to kill Greg? No. I’m the one who told him about Chandra and Greg. He was surprised, but not upset or jealous. Anyway, you’re investigating the reporter’s death, and he wasn’t dating Chandra.”
Vale smiled faintly. “Your logic is impeccable, Ms. Baxter. Just one more question—Where were you last night, between the hours of 8:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m.?”
Raleigh interrupted. “You can’t narrow down the time of death any better than that?”
“The body was refrigerated. A lot depends on exactly when it was stashed there and what temperature the fridge maintains. But the security guard at the mill reported that some person turned off the security alarm last night. Presumably someone who knew the code. That suggests to me someone in upper management.”
“For the record, I was at home alone during those hours. And I’m a lowly secretary, last I checked.”
“A secretary who is—if I guess correctly—very close to her boss. Who is in upper management.”
Jillian couldn’t believe her ears. “Right. So you’re saying Conner and I conspired to kill Mark Bowen, then we broke into the mill in the middle of the night, hid the body in the fridge—”
Raleigh touched her arm. “Jillian, be careful what you say.”
Jillian ignored her. “—then came back the next day so we could discover the body and make ourselves suspects, while carefully not bothering to pick up a clearly visible Saint Christopher medal that would implicate Conner? Does that make even a tiny amount of sense?”
“I don’t know yet. But I have one more question. Are you involved in a romantic relationship with Conner Blake?”
“Define romantic.”
“Anything other than professional.”
It was so tempting to lie. But she knew better; the truth always comes out. “We had sex. Once. It didn’t work out. In fact, we’re quite irritated with each other right now.”
“Didn’t look that way to me. You were holding hands.”
“He took my hand and squeezed it as a gesture of comfort and support. It was nothing more than that.”
Damn him, Vale wasn’t even trying to hide his smile. “Okay, that’s all for now. You can go.”
“Thank God.” She waited until they were in a hallway out of earshot of the detective, then turned to Raleigh. “Let’s find Conner and get out of here.”
“Um, yeah, that won’t be possible. They took Conner into custody.”
Jillian’s head spun. They’d arrested Conner? “Oh, no. Raleigh, you have to do something.”
“I will. His bail hearing is set for tomorrow, and I can argue that Conner isn’t a flight risk. He has a good job and family here—”
Jillian lowered her voice. “And a plane ticket to Indonesia.”
“What?”
“I saw the reservation confirmation in his email. He has a trip to Jakarta scheduled for next month. I didn’t want to read too much into it—and I still don’t. The company has business there, Conner has to take up some slack now that Greg is gone.”
“But the cops will read something into it.” Raleigh only said what Jillian was thinking. “They’ll think he was planning to flee. They’ve also got a huge piece of physical evidence that’s pretty hard to dismiss.”
“The medal was stolen from his office. I mean, why would Conner leave the medal in the victim’s hands? That would be really stupid.”
“Criminals sometimes do stupid things. Look, Jillian, this will get sorted out. But Conner is not his own best friend right now. He lied to Detective Vale.”
“He did? About what?”
“He said you and he had never been involved. Apparently he thought telling the truth was less important than protecting your virtue.”
The situation was dire, but Jillian felt a warmth in her belly at the realization that Conner was trying to protect her. Stupid thing to do…but sweet.
* * *
DESPITE THE FACT A BODY was found at the picnic venue and one of the company’s directors had been arrested on suspicion of murder, and another director was about to be indicted for grand theft, acting CEO Hamilton Payne declared he wanted the company party to go on as planned.
“Company morale is at an all-time low,” Payne said in his office the next morning, when Jillian paid him a visit and explained the situation. “Now is the time to rally the troops. Stand up for what we believe in. Make a show of solidarity.”
Could he come up with any more clichés?
“But our refrigerator is a crime scene,” Jillian said.
“Everyone’s looking forward to the picnic. We can’t disappoint them. Our employees have been loyal and supportive during this trying time. We should be loyal and supportive back.”
“You don’t think we’ll all look a bit…frivolous for throwing a party at the site of a recent murder?”
“I’m sure the police will release the scene before Saturday. Anyway, I understand that reporter wasn’t killed at the mill. The body was simply dumped there. It might not even be related to the current unpleasantness.”
“Of course it’s connected. They’ve arrested Conner!”
“Believe me, I’m as distressed as you. I’ve known Conner since he worked as a college intern for the company, and of course there’s no way he could be guilty. I’ve got our lawyers working hard to free him as we speak.”
“Will you be at his bail hearing?”
“I can’t. The company is in crisis. I need to be here. We all need to be calm and carry on business as usual. Our customers have to see that no matter what, the company won’t fold. Stan wants to save the company—it’s his most fervent wish. Now, please, do whatever you can to make the party a success. I’ve informed my wife that she should make herself available to you no matter what Ariel Cuddy told her. She’s willing to help in any way she can.”
Since hearing Ariel’s angry message, Jillian hadn’t even attempted to contact any of the directors’ wives. But she would give Beatrice Payne a call to at least thank her for the offer—and see if she really meant it. Most of the preparations were in place, but Jillian could use some help on Saturday to set things up.
“If you think it’s best.”
“I do. Jillian, are you any closer to finding out who’s behind all this?”
“Conner has been checking into Greg’s activities in the months before he died. There’s definitely something squirrely there. As to who killed him, I’m afraid we’re at a loss. But please don�
��t give up.”
“I have complete faith in you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help—anything.”
“Thanks, Mr. Payne.”
She really felt sorry for him. So close to retirement, and now this. If the whole company went down, would it wreck his pension?
She hurried from Payne’s office to the garage and prayed traffic wouldn’t be too bad. She had to make it to Conner’s bail hearing by ten. But just as she was about to start her car engine, the Mission: Impossible theme song floated up from her purse. Celeste had been playing with Jillian’s ring tones again. She fished out her phone and checked the screen; it was Elena.
“Elena. What’s up?”
“Daniel wanted me to let you know you don’t have to come to the bail hearing.”
“Oh. But I want to come. I think it’s important to let the judge know how critical his presence is at his employer’s.” Why didn’t Daniel want her there? Was he afraid she would get too touchy-feely?
She got it, she understood. She’d let emotions get in the way of her effectiveness, and Daniel was right to doubt her. “Can I talk to him? Or is he too busy?”
“It’s not that he doesn’t want you there. The hearing has been delayed.”
Poor Conner! Would he have to spend another night in jail? Although she’d never been arrested, she’d spent enough time around Project Justice clients to know jail wasn’t a happy place. Mitch Delacroix, the foundation’s cyber sleuth, had been assaulted when he’d been held overnight in a Louisiana lockup. Only his superb fighting skills had saved him from a beating.
Conner, while obviously strong and fit, didn’t have a black belt in anything.
“There’s some big meeting going on—Daniel, Raleigh and some people from Houston and Montgomery County law enforcement. Even a lawyer from the lumber company. I think the idea is to get all charges dropped. If everyone can compare notes, maybe they can see a pattern.”
“And Daniel doesn’t want me there?” Why the hell not? She knew as much about this case as anyone.
“He just told me to tell you the bail hearing was postponed.”
Jillian took a deep breath. No emotions. Cool as a cucumber. “Okay, Elena. Thanks.”
But after she hung up, tears sprang to her eyes. Daniel didn’t trust her anymore. She’d become a liability. She’d thrown away her career for a man she’d fallen in love with—a man who couldn’t love her back.
She was so angry with herself. Why did she fall for men who were so wrong for her? Making love with Conner had felt so right, like the beginning of something epic. He’d felt something, too, she was sure of it—or was she remembering things the way she wanted them to be?
She couldn’t afford the luxury of tears. She had a picnic to plan and a murderer to catch.
That was the only way she would ever redeem herself, she realized. She would have to discover the identity of the murderer herself. And she was going to have to disobey Daniel’s orders to do it. She would either succeed or find herself in the unemployment line. Those were the only two outcomes she could stomach, because she wasn’t going back to being an intern, trusted by no one.
As she made her way through the garage from the hinterlands where they made secretaries park, she passed the row of reserved spaces where the directors and other top executives parked their luxury cars.
Both murder victims had been killed at unknown locations and the bodies transported to the places where they were found. Bodies tended to leave a trail of DNA behind. Greg Tynes, in particular, had been found wrapped in a blood-soaked blanket. Ergo, someone’s car had blood in it. And even if it had been scrupulously cleaned, a spray of luminol would still show where the blood had been.
Her brain was clicking as she made her way back inside. Saturday was the perfect day. Everybody would be taking buses from this facility to the mill. The cars would be sitting here all day long with no one coming and going. It was an ideal time.
Letitia was at the security desk by the back door.
“Thought you were leaving.”
“Sudden change of plans. Hey, Letitia, how would you like to help me catch a murderer?”
Letitia’s eyes lit up. She leaned forward “I’m in. How?”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“Saturday? No.”
“Can you trade shifts with someone? In particular, whoever patrols the garage?”
She thought for a moment. “I probably could. Everybody likes to get Saturday off.”
“If I had a friend who showed an undue amount of interest in some cars in the parking lot, could you look the other way? Maybe be real slow to respond if a car alarm goes off?”
Letitia frowned. “No way. If any of those cars goes missing on my watch, I could lose my job.”
“The cars won’t go anywhere. No one will be able to tell my friend was there. She’s just looking for evidence.” It was a long shot. But at least Jillian would be doing something. She couldn’t just blow up balloons and pretend this case and her career and her life hadn’t reached crisis state.
“I guess that doesn’t sound too bad. What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll double your pay.” Her trust fund ought to be good for something besides keeping Jillian in designer stilettos.
“You’re on.”
“Great.” Now she just had to convince “her friend” to give up a Saturday while risking arrest and ruin.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“NICE WORK, GIRLFRIEND.” Celeste examined the tight cluster of holes in the paper target at the public shooting range. “Your aim is really improving.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
Jillian and Celeste had met after work at the Junseo Kim School of Martial Arts for their weekly Tae Kwon Do class. Celeste was a second-degree black belt. Jillian had only been taking for six months, but she was finally starting to feel halfway coordinated. She had sparred against an aggressive red belt and had actually won, for once. After class, they’d stopped by the shooting range for some target practice.
“I’m starving,” Celeste said. “Let’s go scarf down some pizza.”
“Good plan.” One nice thing about working out: she could indulge in some of her forbidden foods, at least occasionally. They walked one block to their favorite little Italian bistro, ordered a large mushroom and green pepper thin crust and a bottle of Chianti. Jillian felt her muscles finally relaxing for the first time in days.
“You haven’t said much about the case.”
“I don’t know much. They shut me out.”
“Oh, Jillian. What I wouldn’t give to smack those men’s heads together. They have no idea the gem they have in you.”
Jillian laughed without humor. “Yeah. A gem who slept with the client.”
Celeste choked on a piece of pizza. “You did what?”
“I know, it was a huge mistake, and stupid.”
Celeste removed her purple glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not stupid, don’t say that. Sometimes the heart wants what it wants. We all crave connection.” For a few moments, Celeste appeared to be far away as she stared past Jillian, her eyes defocused.
“You speak from experience?”
Celeste flashed a sad smile. “Shrewd girl. You didn’t corner the market on self-destructive, hormonal, angsty behavior. I once made a fool of myself over a man I worked with.”
“You?” Sure, Celeste flirted with every handsome man she encountered, but it was mostly for show. She’d never demonstrated the slightest bit of real interest in a man, not since Jillian had known her.
Not unless you counted the cupcakes she left for Phil the night watchman.
“I wasn’t always so smart. Or so secure. You can’t imagine what it was like being the first female police officer on the force. The first they actually let do more than write parking tickets, anyway. The men hated me. They were afraid of me. They did everything they could think of to trick me and make me look foolish. Their wives hated me even more—thought I
was there to steal their husbands.
“The worst was, I never knew if the guys really had my back, or if they’d stand by and let me get hurt.”
Jillian felt for her friend. “That must have been awful.” At least she knew Daniel had her personal safety at the forefront of his concerns. Conner, too. Neither of them would ever want her physically harmed.
“Then there was Chuck. The only one who saw something in me. Who took me seriously. He believed in me. And how easy it was for me to fall in love with him.”
Jillian could see that. Trying to prove herself, surrounded by hostility, then one person who believed…yes, she could see it all too well.
“It was way against the rules for us to see each other. So we did it in secret. It lasted about a month. Then the novelty wore off, and Chuck got worried we’d be discovered. He broke things off.”
“Oh, Celeste, how awful. At least it was only a month. At least you didn’t marry the guy.”
“There were…other consequences.”
“Did someone find out? Did you get in trouble?” At that moment, losing her job or being publicly humiliated sounded to Jillian like the worst thing that could happen.
“No, no one found out.” Celeste paused, as if evaluating how much more to reveal. Finally she said, “I’m tall, and I was heavier then. I was able to hide the pregnancy up to about six months.”
Jillian gasped. “Oh, my heavens.” Celeste, pregnant? Celeste had a baby? She was about the most unmaternal woman Jillian had ever met.
“Even in the wild sixties, you couldn’t up and have a baby out of wedlock like it was nothing. Not like today. And certainly not working for the Houston Police Department.”
“What did you do?”
“I faked a knee injury. Went on disability. Had the baby.” Celeste paused, her eyes misty as she traveled back in time, seeing things Jillian couldn’t. “I wanted to keep her. She was the most beautiful baby you ever saw, had these huge blue eyes…but I couldn’t. How would I have supported her?”
“You gave her up for adoption?” That had to be the saddest thing. Jillian knew if her ill-begotten tryst with Conner had resulted, God forbid, in a pregnancy, she would have fallen in love with the baby instantly. She never would have given it up, even if Conner wanted nothing to do with her or his child. She would find a way to keep the baby.