Foolproof (Iris Thorne Mysteries Book 4)

by Dianne Emley

  She’d successfully grabbed the Teflon suit, used it to swim across the river of green slime, killed three of four flying monkeys and most of the Morph Drones before she picked up a box that she thought would contain ammo. Big mistake. It was full of snakes that jumped on Slade Slayer, who went down screaming in agony.

  “Damn.”

  She restarted the game three more times and died three more times before she finally turned off the computer. Two hours had melted away. She knew she was avoiding telling Kip she’d decided to accept T. Duke’s offer. She’d been avoiding it ever since she got home. She should have driven straight to his house.

  She changed into jeans that were more presentable than her sloppy sweatpants, tucked in her flannel shirt, and dug through her boxes of clothes until she located her heavy wool Irish fisherman’s sweater.

  She got into the Triumph. She was only going two steep blocks to Kip Cross’s house, but it was getting dark and she was already spooked. She turned the key in the ignition. It emitted a sharp click. She tried again and it clicked again. The starter had been behaving beautifully for the past few days, but now seemed to be on the fritz again. She tried a few more times before the engine turned over. As she backed out, she noticed that in the short period of time the TR had been parked, it had already deposited a glutinous glob of oil on her clean driveway.

  “Baby, please don’t do this to Momma,” Iris pleaded.

  Iris rang Kip’s doorbell and rang again. She tried the door. It was locked. His Ferrari was parked in the driveway. She didn’t see Bridget’s Volvo, which Summer had been driving when she couldn’t get her hands on the Ferrari, but it could have been parked in the garage.

  She walked to the side of the house and down the cement steps that ran next to the property, thinking she’d try the patio gate. She was surprised to find it ajar. She slowly pulled it open, afraid of what she might find, and darted her head inside. There wasn’t anyone there. She was about to enter the patio and try the French doors when she saw something move in the brush next to the cement stairway, midway to the street below.

  She crept down a few steps and saw someone straddling the storm drain that led from Kip’s backyard. She moved a few steps closer. In the dim light, she made out a flip-flop-clad foot.

  “Kip?” Iris was clearly visible in the light coming from the open back gate.

  He dropped the storm drain that he had been holding between his legs. “Oh, hi.”

  She walked down to him. “What are you doing?”

  “Rats. I think there’s a rats’ nest in here.”

  She looked around for implements of rat destruction but found none. She also found it curious that he was bare-handed and almost bare-footed. It wasn’t the clothing she would wear to go rat-hunting, but Kip was never known for being practical.

  He seemed to sense her question. “I was just checking it out.” He stepped over the drain and between the railings onto the stairs next to her. “So, ah…you stopped by.”

  “Yeah.” On the ground next to the drain, she spotted a long, white plastic pole with a hook on the end. “Summer and Brianna aren’t here?”

  He carelessly raised a shoulder. “Shopping or something.” He saw that she had noticed the pole and started walking back up the steps, away from the drain. “You want to come inside? You want a drink or something?” He was not much of a host and his efforts seemed forced.

  “What’s that? That pole?”

  Kip peered into the darkness as if he couldn’t make out what she was referring to. “Oh, that. Yeah. We use that to drag stuff out of the pool. I think Brianna must have brought it down there.” He walked back down the steps, slipped between the railings, and picked up the hook.

  “Summer came to see me today.”

  He faced her, holding the hook like a staff. “Why?”

  “She told me about Brianna and the pictures. She told me you hit her.”

  His knuckles grew white where he grasped the pole. “She told me she slipped on the area rug and smacked her cheek on the tile steps in the foyer. Now she’s going around telling people I hit her? I guess this is her way of getting back at me for telling her to do her job and to stop making money off Bridget’s murder.” He twisted the pole, grinding the end into the dirt. “It’s happening. See? See how it’s happening?”

  “What’s happening?”

  Kip fed the hook between the railings before crawling through himself. “The boss monster has made his move.”

  “You think the boss monster is out to get you.”

  “Yes.”

  “He killed Bridget?”

  “Yes. Murdered Bridget and tried to frame me. But it’s going to be okay. He can’t play the game without revealing some of his strategy.” Kip pinched his thumb and index finger together and held them up. “I need a little more information. Just a little more.”

  Iris recalled what Summer had told her about Kip acting crazy.

  Kip continued, his voice excited, his eyes bright. “But he screwed up. That’s good. He revealed his weakness, just like I revealed mine. There’s still a lot of play left.”

  “Is the boss monster a person?”

  “You think I’m mad, don’t you?”

  “Not mad, Kip, but…you have to admit your theory’s a bit unusual.”

  “Yeah. Right. No matter.”

  It was now pitch-black outside. A raindrop plopped on her head. No way was she going to talk to him about T. Duke’s offer here. Instead she was going to flee home and double-check that all her doors and windows were locked. “Kip, I’m freezing. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” She started jogging up the stairs.

  “I know you’ve been talking to T. Duke.”

  She stopped dead and turned around. “Of course I’ve been talking to T. Duke.” She wouldn’t ask how he knew. She didn’t want him to think she cared that much. T. Duke probably called Kip himself to taunt him.

  “Rumor is, you’re close to taking his offer. You’re close to selling Pandora out from under me.” A cold breeze blew and Kip squinted, making his deep-set eyes glimmering slits.

  Her only response was to take another step away from him.

  “Do me a favor?” He was speaking in an emotionless monotone that was exceedingly controlled. She’d heard him use that tone of voice shortly before he’d gone ballistic. “Don’t do anything until you see my new graphics engine. It’ll prove that I’m stronger than ever.”

  “Okay, Kip. Sure. I’m looking forward to it. You’ve been working hard?” She forced a smile.

  He leaned against the pole with both hands as if he might fall without it. “Everyone who thinks they’ve got me beat is going to be in for a big surprise.”

  She held her hand out palm up. “Looks like it’s going to pour! I’ll call you.” She jogged up the steps, barely making it to her car before the clouds opened.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Have you heard of a firm called Canterbury Investments?” Iris sat on the corner of her desk, hoping her posture seemed nonchalant. She actually wanted to get as close to Sam Eastman as possible to see if he flinched, batted an eyelash, or otherwise gave anything away.

  He did. His eyes quickly shot to the corner of the room before he recovered and informally crossed his legs. “No, no, can’t say that I have. What is it? New player in town?”

  Iris frowned, indicating that it was nothing. Less than nothing. “Just a name I heard. I don’t even remember where.”

  The wind blew rain against the window and whistled through a small gap where two panes were joined. The junction had most likely been thrown askew by a temblor somewhere down the line. Iris was wearing her suit jacket but she still shivered. She returned to her desk chair.

  “So how’s Evan doing?” Sam asked.

  Iris thought it odd for him to mention Evan on the heels of her bringing up Canterbury Investments. “Mediocre at best.”

  Sam looked concerned. “That surprises me. Course, you haven’t given him much of a chance, Iris.
He’s only been here about a week.”

  “Do you know that his résumé doesn’t jive?”

  “You mean you can’t verify it?” Sam asked in a way that suggested he was surprised she’d tried.

  “Yes, I can.”

  His shoulders relaxed.

  “But when Louise calls Huxley Investments and asks for information on Evan Finn, she’s never put through to their Human Resources Department. She’s always sent directly to Yale Huxley.”

  “But that’s good. That shows how important Evan was to the firm.”

  “Sam, it’s weird. A routine question regarding a former employee’s employment dates should not be routed to the managing partner of the firm.” The wind whistled and Iris shivered on cue. “There’s another thing. Harvard’s records indicate that Evan Finn died last year.”

  “It’s a simple mistake.”

  “Is it?”

  “Iris,” Sam chided. “You’ve been reading too many mystery novels.”

  “I don’t like mystery novels. I don’t like mysteries at all. I like everything laid out, crystal clear, easily understood.”

  He smiled indulgently at her. “I don’t believe that, Iris.”

  His condescending tone frosted her to no end. “Tell me why Evan’s here, Sam.”

  “You hired him.”

  “You twisted my arm.”

  “Nonsense. You had the last word. You made a point of telling me that.”

  “Okay. Now I’m about to fire him.”

  “Don’t do that.” Sam quickly uncrossed his legs, as if jolted. He held his open hands beseechingly toward her. “Try him just a little longer. He’s a good kid. Give him a chance. A month.”

  “Garland Hughes tells me that Yale Huxley and T. Duke Sawyer are cronies from way back. What’s going on, Sam?”

  Just mentioning Garland, Sam’s former boss, made him bristle. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything. Lots of men like Huxley and Sawyer run in the same circles, belong to the same clubs.”

  “I’ll find out why Evan’s here, you know.”

  Sam grew huffy. “Evan’s going to do a lot of good for this office, Iris. You have to trust my experience on this. I’ve been in this business a lot longer than you have.” He looked at his watch. “Gotta go. Keep me posted. Remember, I have my branch managers’ conference call at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Speak with you then.”

  He opened the door and bustled out, stopping to give Evan a quick pat on the back and exchange a few words.

  Louise walked into Iris’s office with a Federal Express envelope from Natalie Tyler.

  Iris, still steaming after her conversation with Sam, angrily pulled the tab, slicing open the top of the cardboard container.

  “Get anything out of Sam?” Louise asked.

  Iris shook her head.

  “Why don’t you just fire Evan?” Louise said in a low voice designed to carry less than six inches, an inflection well-practiced by anyone who worked in a crowded office.

  Iris responded in the same tone of voice. “I will. But first, I want to find out why he’s here. If I fire him, I’ll lose the opportunity to gather evidence. I need solid proof that Sam is up to something.” She pulled several folded sheets of drawing paper from the envelope and opened them.

  Louise gasped. “My gosh. Did little Brianna draw those?”

  Iris speechlessly looked through the pictures, putting one behind the next. There were five, all variations on the same subject. Three of them showed Slade Slayer shooting at a prone and bloody Bridget. Two showed Slade Slayer bending over Bridget with a slingshot in his hand. All of them showed a tiny figure watching from inside a line-drawing house. Stetson, the German shepherd, was in three drawings.

  Iris was horrified.

  “There’s an amazing amount of detail for a five-year-old,” Louise commented.

  “Even down to Stetson’s collar and the infamous flip-flops.”

  “Are you going to give the drawings to the police?”

  “Don’t know.” She looked over the drawings again. “Hate for those detectives to upset Brianna. Nothing here gives any clue who the murderer might be. Maybe if Brianna drew more, she’d remember more details. Or maybe this is all there is.”

  “Is Kip encouraging her?”

  Iris didn’t want to tell Louise the truth, knowing how incriminating it sounded. She lied. “I don’t know.”

  Her phone rang and Louise reached to pick it up. “Iris Thorne’s office.” She turned to Iris. “Toni Burton is here.”

  “Good. Could you please bring her down?” Iris gathered the drawings and turned them facedown on her desk.

  Iris stood in her doorway and watched Toni follow Louise through the sales department, almost running poor Louise down. Toni looked effervescent. She was smiling at everyone, playfully mugging if someone’s glance lingered, compelling them to smile back. It didn’t seem natural and Iris didn’t know why Toni did it. She hadn’t quite noodled Toni out. But she was grateful for one thing—she would be in a world of muck trying to decipher Pandora without Toni. She had found her to be a bright and capable ally.

  Toni spotted Evan Finn. The girl had a good eye for beefcake. She pulled down her lower lip, revealing both rows of gleaming teeth, creating a Goldie Hawn effect, and mouthed, “Hi” as she passed. She raised her shoulders when she spotted Iris, as if seeing her new boss made her tingle. “Hi, Iris.”

  “Hi, Toni. Come in.”

  Toni stepped inside Iris’s office and gave an openmouthed appraisal of the decor. “Oh, this is gor-geous! This is so elegant. It shows such panache.” She surveyed the view from the corner windows and shook her head with awe. “There’s a whole world out there, isn’t there?”

  Iris noticed that Amber Ambrose had found an excuse to linger at Louise’s desk, just outside Iris’s door. Iris didn’t need the fact that she was conducting Pandora business on McKinney Alitzer time to get back to Sam Eastman. She walked to her door, smiled amiably at Amber, then closed it.

  Sitting in her chair, Iris told Toni, “I love your suit. The color’s great on you.”

  Toni flitted to one of the chairs facing Iris’s desk, where she perched on the edge. She pinched her jacket lapels. “Do you really think so? I’ve been upgrading my wardrobe. Have you noticed?”

  “I have.”

  “Don’t get me wrong.” Toni put up a warning hand. “I love the trendy stuff. Everything that’s fun and hot, all the new colors and hemlines, each season, I’ve gotta have it. But it’s true, what they say, about how clothes make the person. Take you, for example. You manage all these people. You can’t come in looking like you just fell off the set of Friends for goodness’ sake.”

  “The Summer Fontaine look.”

  “Ugh.” Toni made a face. “Isn’t she disgusting?”

  “She’s…unique.” Iris folded her hands on her desk. “So what happened that you couldn’t tell me about over the phone?”

  “I can’t believe I did this!” Toni waved her hands, quickly recovered, then soberly regarded Iris. “I met with T. Duke.”

  Iris didn’t like hearing this. “Really?”

  “I told him I wanted to talk face-to-face about his offer to buy Pandora. And that Today, Mick, and I all want you to take the offer and that I was in a position to influence you and would help him in any way I could. But I said that unlike Today and Mick, I’m not in it for the money.”

  Toni quickly glanced to each side as if to see whether someone was eavesdropping, although no one could be because the door was closed. “I told him I figured out his true mission in relation to Pandora and that I agree wholeheartedly.”

  “You agree?”

  “Abso-tively posi-lutely! I only said it because I wanted him to tell me about the Trust Makers and the conspiracy.”

  “You now think that Bridget’s murder was part of a conspiracy.”

  “Yes.”

  “The other day you told me you thought my conspiracy theory was far-fetched. What ma
de you change your mind?”

  “When I got to thinking about all the things you pointed out that don’t add up, I had to come to the conclusion that Kip didn’t do it. When you consider Alexa Platt…” Toni’s eyes were wide with excitement. “Everything you were saying about the conspiracy started to make a whole lot of sense.”

  “And I’d just talked myself out of it.”

  Toni looked shocked. “Iris, no! Your theory’s brilliant. You’re so clever. As clever as T. Duke—and that’s the key thing.”

  Now Iris didn’t know what to think.

  “I thought really hard about it and I said, ‘You’ve got to do this, Toni. You’ve got to do this for Bridget and Brianna.’ First thing the next morning, I called T. Duke.”

  “So what else happened when you were at T. Duke’s?”

  “I asked if he and Baines were members of the Trust Makers and suggested that the principals of USA Assets were also.”

  “And?”

  “He didn’t deny it.”

  “But he didn’t admit it.”

  “Did you expect him to?”

  Iris considered that and shook her head.

  Toni again excitedly waved her hands. “Listen to what I did next.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I went out with Baines.”

  Iris raised her eyebrows.

  “When I was at T. Duke’s, I kind of gave Baines the eye and he kind of gave me the eye. I called him later and asked him if he wanted to have a drink, and he said yes!”

  “I’m impressed,” Iris said truthfully.

  Toni grinned. “I thought I’d loosen him up with a few drinks, you know, but he doesn’t drink. He’s so straight. But he loves sex!” She squealed.

  “Toni, you didn’t have to go to extremes.”

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly torture, if you know what I mean. What a bod. But he’s way too conservative for me. You know me, I like the bad boys. I initiated a little pillow talk and he went on and on about the Trust Makers. He is so into the whole thing. The big meetings, the singing, the praying, the crying.” She rolled her eyes.

  “What about T. Duke?”