I.L. Wolf - Her Cousin, Much Removed

by I. L. Wolf

  “Brooks?” she said. “Why are you following me again?”

  “I think you know why,” he said. “What’s that?”

  “A gift. What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly why I’m following you. I need the documents. And you’re going to give them to me.”

  “It’s getting as though no one has anything to say to me these days unless it’s about those freaking documents. I have no idea where they are. I’ve told you that.”

  “I don’t exactly believe you,” he said. “How do I know he didn’t pay you off, too?”

  Venetia gestured to toward the door of her eleven-year-old car. “Do I look like someone who’s been paid off?” she said.

  “People don’t always flash money,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s the truth. Like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re an internet millionaire.”

  In seconds, his expression evolved from suspicious to a touch smug to slightly amused. “You got me,” he said.

  “Not as much as you wanted to get me,” she said. “We’re not doing chummy here.”

  “Aw, come on, we were starting to get along so well.”

  “You were offering a double reward to implicate me, not to mention the video you gave Detective James. I think we’re a long way from getting along.”

  “I thought you were involved in Brenna’s death.”

  “Yes, so you’ve said. Only you said you didn’t believe that anymore.”

  “Honestly, I don’t,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “I don’t,” he held his hands up, and then, just as she untensed, he reached around her and grabbed the platter.

  “Hey. What do you think you’re doing? That’s mine, and I’ve been trying like heck to get that back.”

  Using both hands, he pulled it out of the car, and then held it above him, shifting it in the light. “Did my sister give you this glass plate?”

  “For a bajillionaire, you’re pretty uncultured. It’s a platter.”

  “I know what it is,” he said, looking her directly in the eye. “Did my sister give it to you?”

  “As a matter of fact,” she said, “she did. Why would you ask that?”

  “Oh,” he said, “she may have been stupid when it came to men, but my sister was a smart, smart girl. And a good listener.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She always picked the losers. They looked fine on the outside, they were good on paper, but when it came to the real stuff, the character stuff, they were all losers. But she was a smart girl.”

  “I think she was a woman, not a girl. Anyway, no, not the men, I get the men part, I meant the smart part.” Suddenly the clouds in Venetia’s head opened, and the light came like the brightest flash she’d ever seen. “Hold on. Back up. She always picked losers?”

  “From the time she was a teenager. The guy from the rich family who was selling drugs. The brainy guy who had a secret weapons stash in his basement. It was like she had a sixth sense with them, and instead of repulsing her, it drew her in.”

  Venetia considered her words carefully, mindful of the thin line she was about to stroll. “Do you know if your sister was seeing anyone?”

  “She was married. Why would she be seeing someone?”

  “Brooks, it’s not 1873. People have affairs. Do you think your sister may have been having an affair?”

  “I don’t know, it doesn’t sound like her.”

  He wasn’t getting it, and Venetia couldn’t tell him outright, it was still privileged. “Let me put it this way, in an entirely hypothetical context. By that I mean we are speaking hypothetically. It’s all hypothetical.”

  “Why do you keep using that word? Please stop saying it.”

  She shot him a look. “If Brenna was having an affair,” she caught his mouth in mid-opening and cut him off before he could interject, “if,” she emphasized again, “if, you could be sure she would have picked the absolute worst person with whom she could have one?”

  “One hundred percent without a doubt,” he said. He placed the platter under his arm.

  “You can’t have that,” she said.

  “I’m not trying to take it, per se,” he said. “Go on.”

  “When we arranged to move your sister to an apartment, a safe-house we’d set up, I told her to tell no one. But she had to have told someone, that’s when she was killed.”

  “You didn’t spill the info?”

  “What? Of course not. That’s absurd, and, I might add, incredibly insulting. I put everything I had into trying to keep Brenna safe. I believed her when she said that she wasn’t going to make it through the divorce alive, and I was going to do absolutely anything I could to see that she did.”

  “Well, you didn’t.”

  “I did what I could do, Brooks. Everything, and I mean everything, that I could do.”

  “I know you believe that.”

  “It’s the truth. Can you stop blaming me for ten seconds here?”

  He thought. “Possibly,” he said. “Maybe.”

  “Very generous. This guy. The hypothetical affair guy. He’d look good on paper.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “I’m pretty sure I know who let Alden Sway know where she’d be and when.”

  “So you don’t buy that it was Shane Palint either?”

  “Even if he pulled the trigger, he wasn’t the one behind it,” she said. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and looked Brooks up and down. “How tall are you?”

  “Five-seven. On a tall day. Why?”

  “You didn’t shoot that video, the one that set me up for Delenda’s murder, the one in the bag, did you?”

  His smile was slow in coming but bright when it hit. “How’d you figure?”

  “That person was much taller than you.”

  “There’s a lot more to you than I thought,” he said.

  “You have no idea.” She scrolled through her contacts. Good thing she never deleted anyone. Dane picked up on the second ring.

  “Do you have them?” he said, without bothering to say hello.

  “Oh, I have them, all right,” she said. “Meet me at that coffee shop. You know the one, we used to go there after court.”

  “How long?”

  “Give me ten minutes,” she said. She opened the car door. “Are you coming?” she asked Brooks.

  “You’d give him the documents?”

  She slid into the driver’s seat and raised an eyebrow, her mouth nearly sideways. “First, I don’t have them, and second, no, never. In or out, I’ve got to go.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Luckily, Brooks, I do. I know exactly who sold out Brenna, and I’m meeting him in,” she looked at the clock on the dashboard, “nine minutes. Among the many things he is, he’s always punctual, so I’ve got to get going.”

  “He what?”

  “He got Brenna killed,” she said. “I’m certain of it.”

  Chapter 23

  He went around to the other side and got in, carefully putting the platter on his lap. “And you’re sure you want me along for this?”

  “I’m not going alone,” she said, “and I feel like we’ve reached an understanding. We’ve reached an understanding, right? Besides, you’re about to get proof that I had nothing at all to do with Brenna’s murder, unless you count picking the worst law partner on the planet.” She took her phone from the center console and shoved it in Brooks’ direction. “Here,” she said, “rig this thing so that it can record the conversation.”

  “Are you sure that’s legal?”

  “How did you get that video?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You admitted you didn’t shoot it. You couldn’t have, you’re too short.”

  “Hey. That’s not a nice way to put it.”

  “Suddenly you grow feelings,” she said. “How’d you get the video?”

  “I have my ways.”


  “Umm-hmm,” she said. “I figured as much. Just do your techno magic and we’re good. Besides, if he does something to me, I want there to be a record.”

  “This is a phone, you know.” He scrolled through the menu and pressed something. “Here,” he said, “ready to go.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Turned on the voice recording app. I’m pretty sure you could have managed that one yourself.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she said.

  “Why do you think this guy had anything to do with Brenna?”

  She checked her side mirror and changed lanes before answering. “Because Dane has an uncanny inability to not sleep with anyone who is vaguely described as female.”

  “Brenna wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t have been involved with him.”

  “Oh, but I beg to differ. You said she would find the person who looked good on paper but was the absolute worst choice.” After waiting for the stream of cars to go around her, she parallel parked a short way down from the coffee shop. Dane paced under the awning. “Told you he was punctual. And no one, no one could have fit that description better. Are you coming or what?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, “I think he’ll get suspicious.” He straightened the platter in his lap.

  “Don’t try to take that anywhere,” she said. “That’s mine.”

  “So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

  “You seem oddly covetous of it. I don’t know what it is with that platter, I couldn’t get Delenda to give it back to me for months.”

  “It was with someone else?”

  “Yeah. Delenda. My cousin who died, the one that was in that video you gave the cops? Never mind. I’ll be back.”

  He handed her the phone. “I’ve put my number in here. Maybe you should call me and let it run.”

  “In case someone mentions those ever-loving documents?”

  “Or he tries to abduct and kill you. Whichever.”

  “Aw, we really have moved on. You no longer want to be the person to abduct and kill me. That’s kind of sweet.”

  “You and your weird sense of humor have an appointment,” he said.

  She crossed the street, giving Dane a nod, and they walked into the coffee shop together. They took the table in the corner, just like old times, minus the files spread everywhere.

  “So where are they?” he said. The table vibrated with his bouncing knee.

  “Could you stop that?

  “Stop what?”

  “That,” she said, pointing to the jittery table.

  “Where are they?” he said again.

  “We’ll get to it,” she said, “we’ll get to it. But first,” she glanced at her phone to make sure it was still on, “you were sleeping with Brenna Chale, weren’t you?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just answer—”

  “Ah, you two haven’t been in together in a while,” said the waitress. “What can I get you?”

  “Plain coffee,” said Venetia.

  “I’ll do the same.”

  “Good to see you,” she said. Dane waited until she was completely gone.

  “I don’t see why you’re asking me this.”

  “You’ve slept with everyone else, Dane, including—” she noticed an older woman with gray hair staring, and she lowered her voice, “including Sissy. Which, come on, that’s gross.”

  “That’s not why you called me here. I don’t think you get what a tight position I’m in.”

  “I want to know if you were sleeping with her.”

  “It can’t possibly be relevant. Listen, I don’t have a whole lot of time, so if you’re here to give me crap, I’ve got better things to do.”

  “I notice you’re not saying no.”

  “It’s frankly none of your business.”

  Venetia shook her head, the anger getting in the way of the words. The waitress returned, was about to say something else, sensed the mood at the table and apparently thought better of it. She placed the cups in front of them, put the creamer on Venetia’s side of the table, and retreated. “You knew.”

  “I knew what?”

  “You knew, you wretched piece of human garbage. You knew where she was being moved.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but his skin shifted toward gray underneath its layer of spray-on tan.

  “Oh, you know. You know exactly what I’m saying. And yet, for some reason, that information wasn’t enough, was it? It wasn’t enough to turn a woman who thought you were her new beginning over to the very man she was trying to flee. No, that wasn’t sufficient for the gift to the world that calls itself Dane Froxen.

  “What did Sway give you? Was it money? Influence? Heaven knows he has influence to spare.” She narrowed her eyes at him, shoved her coffee cup out of the way, crossed her arms on the table. “I finally understood that you were low, Dane. I finally did, after all those years of believing the veneer because I wanted to believe it, and still, even so, I didn’t think you were that low.”

  “I had nothing to do with her murder,” he said. “That wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do that, Venetia. Come on, that doesn’t even sound like me, does it?” He attempted a smile, his too-white teeth picking up a reflection from the neon sign outside. “I wouldn’t.”

  “So you were sleeping with Brenna.”

  “But that was it.” He picked up the coffee and took a long sip. “Yes, she was getting a little attached, you know the type, the cool ones, they’re always are much hotter beneath the surface.”

  “Spare me,” she said. “I can’t even look at you, you’re so disgusting. I can’t believe I shared office space with you.”

  “You aren’t understanding the situation,” he said, “and if I tell you, they’ll kill me.”

  “Who? Who Dane, who’s going to kill you? I’d think you’d be far more in danger of jealous husbands and boyfriends.”

  “If I get the documents, then I’m out. That’s what I was told.”

  “Out of what?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Obviously, I do. Or I wouldn’t be asking. How did they find out about Brenna?”

  “I didn’t tell Sway, I swear. It wasn’t me. Yeah, she told me where and when, but I didn’t tell anyone.” The slight gray cast of his skin went more ashen. “Oh,” he said.

  “Oh what?”

  “I swear to you, Venetia, on anything you want—”

  “That sounds convincing.”

  “I had nothing to do with Sway finding out about Brenna’s safe house.”

  “She told you it was a safe house?”

  “Not exactly. I mean she told me where, but not exactly.”

  “You were going through my computer even then? Seriously, what the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “Water under the bridge.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Oh come on Venetia, you need to stop taking everything I say so literally. That’s got to be one of your biggest problems, you don’t get that sometimes people don’t necessarily mean exactly what they say.”

  “You are the most—” Before she could finish her sentence, a blur threw itself across the table and directly at Dane, leaving a trail of tables wobbling and chairs askew.

  “Water under the bridge, you lowlife pond scum?” Brooks had each side of Dane’s collar in a fist, and he brought the other man’s face nearly nose-to-nose with his own. “Water under the bridge? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What’s happening?” Dane said, scrabbling to keep Brooks’ weight from forcing him to tumble backward in his chair.

  “Brenna’s brother,” said Venetia. “I think he’s not pleased to meet you.”

  “You were recording this?” He tried to look in Venetia’s direction, but Brooks’ hold was too tight.

  “Brooks, someone is going to call the cops,” Venetia said.

  “Help me,” he said to her as Brooks tightened his grip.
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br />   “I’m not really so inclined,” said Venetia. “If I’m being honest.” She saw the waitress, phone in hand. “Brooks,” she said, pointing her head in that direction.

  He let go.

  “And I wasn’t saying that your sister was water under the bridge,” he said. “All right? We’re all kind of on the same team here, now. We all want to prove that Sway killed Brenna. And the best way to do that is to establish he had a good reason.”

  “What do you mean by that?” said Brooks, who was still standing over Dane.

  “Geez, I mean he had a motive. I had nothing to do with your sister’s death.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Actually, unfortunately, I kind of do,” said Venetia. “But I thought you wanted those documents so that you could give them to Sway.”

  “I never said that,” he said. He looked up at Brooks who was seeming much taller from that angle.

  “Right before this happened,” said Venetia, “you remembered something.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “No, this guy knocked it out of me.”

  “Is he really trying to be a victim?” Brooks said. “Because I don’t think he has a lot of room to be a victim.”

  “That’s a pretty valid question,” said Venetia. “Finish your thought.” The older lady gathered her things, and giving them all a searing, reproachful look, left. “And see what you did.”

  “I really didn’t say anything to Sway, I couldn’t have, I’ve never had direct contact with him.”

  “Brooks, sit down, the courthouse is a block away and this place can be full of cops in half a minute.”

  Slowly, he scraped a chair across the floor, finally lowering himself into a chair.

  “Never had direct contact for what?” Venetia said. Dane looked out the window as she spoke, his eyes on a tree waving its spindly branches in the breeze. “You might as well tell me, because there’s absolutely no way I’d help you if you don’t.”

  “I can’t believe this guy,” said Brooks.

  “I know, I can empathize,” said Venetia. “But we might as well hear it.”

  “I’ve never even been in the same room with him,” said Dane.

  “It’s the 21st century, Dane, no one needs to be in the same room with anyone for anything, so you need to get more specific.”