Eight Classic Nora Roberts Romantic Suspense Novels

by Nora Roberts

  “Who are you working for?” Paul demanded.

  “Who was I working for? My services are no longer required, seeing as Eve’s dead and Julia here’s up to her pretty neck.”

  Paul gripped Haffner’s cotton shirt, ripping seams. “If you had anything to do with Eve’s murder—”

  “Hold it, hold it. You think I’d be here if I did?” He held out both hands, still grinning. “All I did was some shadowing for an interested party.”

  “Who?”

  Haffner thought it over. “Seeing as I’m not on the payroll anymore, it couldn’t hurt to tell you. Kincade, Anthony Kincade. He wanted me to keep a real close eye on you, Julia. The book you and Eve were working on had him sweating bullets.”

  “The notes,” she said. “He was sending the notes.”

  “I don’t know anything about any notes. He wanted you tailed, wanted to know everyone you talked to. Bought me some real nice surveillance equipment, so I was able to listen in on some of the interviews. Juicy stuff. That’s a real kicker about DuBarry having an abortion. Who’d have thought? I followed you after you left her house. You were pretty erratic that day, Julia. Musta had a lot on your mind. Then I drove around the estate, and—” He paused, grinned. “I’ll be glad to tell you all about that. After I see the money.”

  Paul shoved the satchel at him. “Count it.”

  “Come on, friend.” Haffner set the case on a rock and popped it open. After pulling out a penlight, he shined it over the stacks of bills. Manna from heaven. “I trust you. After all, we’re just doing each other a little favor.”

  “You said you saw someone else on the estate that day,” Julia prompted. “How could you have gotten in? Joe was at the gate.”

  “Guys like me aren’t usually invited through gates in Beverly Hills.” Enjoying himself, Haffner pulled out a roll of fruit-flavored candy. He crunched down on one. Julia smelled oranges. “I spotted a car by the wall. Made me curious. So I climbed up on the roof, took a peek over, and guess what I saw?” He looked from Julia to Paul. “No guesses? I saw Drake Morrison limping his way across the putting green. Hell, imagine having a putting green right in your yard.”

  “Drake?” Julia clutched at Paul’s hand. “You saw Drake?”

  “He was a mess,” Haffner continued. “Guess he’d taken a tumble going over the wall. These executive types aren’t athletic.”

  “What about the alarm?” Paul asked.

  “Couldn’t say. But stands to reason he’d taken care of it or he wouldn’t have chanced going over. Seeing as the way was clear, I hopped over after him. Figured Kincade might pay big for some inside information. I couldn’t get too close, seeing as it’s pretty open there. He was heading for the house, the big house, then he pulled up short, tried to hide himself behind a palm tree, like he was watching somebody. Then he changed direction, went toward the little house. I couldn’t get too close myself cause he was diddling around, looking for a place where he could get close to a window. Then he jerks back, starts running like demons are after him. I had to dodge into some bushes. I figured I’d take a look in myself, but before I could get close enough, you drove up.” He nodded at Julia. “I saw you get out of the car, walk into the garden. I figured I’d better get out before somebody turned the security back on.”

  “You saw me.” Julia shoved Paul aside to get to Haffner herself. “You saw me. You knew I was telling the truth, and you didn’t say a word.”

  “Hey, I’m here now. And you come up with the other half, I’ll sing to the D.A. in three-part harmony. Besides, I can only tell them like I saw it. For all I know, you doubled back out of the garden and whacked the lady.”

  She slapped him, hard enough to have him lose his footing and ram against the rock. “You know I didn’t kill her. You know Drake saw whoever did. And you waited until I was desperate enough to sell my soul.”

  Haffner swiped a hand over his mouth as he got to his feet. “Keep it up and I’ll tell the D. A. you tried to bribe me to alibi you. You’re nothing to me, lady. So be nice, or I might decide against doing my civic duty.”

  “Civic duty, my ass,” Paul said. “Did you get enough, Frank?”

  “Oh, more than.” Frank stepped into the clearing, smile beaming.

  “Son of a bitch.” Haffner took one step forward before Paul caught him with a right to the jaw. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

  “Rusty? Rusty Slimeball Haffner?” Frank said pleasantly as he hauled Haffner to his feet. “I remember you. Do you remember me? I’m Lieutenant Francis Needlemeyer, and you’re under arrest for extortion, withholding evidence, and being a general pain in the ass. I’ll read you your rights in just a minute.” After clamping on the cuffs, Frank took out a walkie-talkie. “I’ve got a load of shit for you to pick up.”

  “On the way, Lieutenant. By the way, the reception was loud and clear.”

  “The D.A. wants Morrison quick, fast, and in a hurry.” Frank was whistling as they stepped from the driveway to the walk leading to Drake’s house. “You get ahold of your lawyer?”

  “Yes.” Julia wiped her damp hands on her slacks. “He’s probably harassing your captain by now. Lincoln said you wouldn’t let Paul and me go with you to pick up Drake.”

  “I can’t help it if you just showed up.” He winked at Paul. “The thing is, I figure Morrison will break down quicker faced with you.”

  “I’d prefer to break him down myself,” Paul muttered. “Piece by piece.”

  “You do that. But wait until after we get his statement. Christ, how does he stand the music up that loud?” Frank pushed the bell, then hammered his fist on the door.

  “The bastard saw who killed her.” Paul’s fingers tightened on Julia’s until she winced. “Eve gave him everything that was decent in his life, and he didn’t give a damn. He used her dead just like like he used her alive. For money.”

  “He might have had a better shot of getting a hefty share of the estate if Julia were convicted.” Still whistling under his breath, Frank hammered again. “Now he’s going to face an obstruction-of-justice charge. The bastard’s in there. The car’s here. The lights and music are on. Morrison!” he bellowed. “This is the police. Open the door.” He slanted a glance at Paul.

  Understanding, Paul put a hand on her back. “Julia, go wait in the car.”

  She understood as well and shook off his nudging hand. “Like hell.”

  Frank merely sighed. “Stand back.” He kicked the door three times before the hinges gave. “Losing my touch,” he said to himself, then drew his gun. “Keep her out here until I say different.”

  The moment Frank was inside, Julia batted Paul’s restraining arms away. “Do you think I’m going to stand out here and wait? He knows who killed her.” Violently, she shook her head. “Paul, she was my mother.”

  He wondered if she knew this was the first time she’d accepted it. With a nod, he took her hand. “Stay close to me.”

  The music switched off abruptly, so when they stepped into the foyer, they stepped into silence. Paul swept a look up the steps, angling his body so that Julia was shielded behind it.

  “Frank?”

  “Back in here. Shit. Keep her out.”

  But she was already in. For the second time violent death stared back at her. He was on his back, where he had fallen. Shattered crystal was scattered on either side of him. The smell was blood and flat champagne—a party gone horribly wrong.

  “I need to know.” An hour later Julia was sitting in Paul’s living room, calmed through sheer will. She watched Lincoln’s face as she spoke. “Do they think I killed him?”

  “No. There’s no motive. Once they establish the time of death, it’s doubtful there would be opportunity. At this point, it looks professional.”

  “Professional?”

  “One shot, very clean. We’ll know more in a day or two.”

  “A day or two.” Unsure how she could get through even an hour or two, she pressed her fingers to her eyes. “He could
have cleared me, Lincoln. He’s dead, and all I can think of is that if we’d had a couple of days, he could have cleared me.”

  “He may still. With Haffner’s statement, and the fact that Drake was murdered, the case against you is looking very shaky. It proves that someone else was on the estate, that the alarm system was inoperable. Haffner also corroborates the fact that you went into the garden instead of the house. And that someone, probably Eve, was already inside. Drake wouldn’t have been looking through the window, wouldn’t have been frightened enough to run away if the house had been empty.”

  Cautious, she closed her hand lightly over the thread of hope. “If we still have to go to trial, that’s what you’ll use.”

  “If we still have to go to trial, yes. It’s more than enough for reasonable doubt, Julia. The D.A. knows it. Now I want you to get some sleep.”

  “Thank you.” She rose to walk him to the door, and the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” she said to Paul.

  “Let it ring.”

  “If it’s a reporter, I’ll have the satisfaction of hanging up. Hello?” Her eyes went quietly blank. “Yes, of course. Just a moment. Lincoln, it’s your son.”

  “Garrett?” He’d already taken a step forward when the shame flooded through him. “My, ah, family decided to fly out for a few days. The children have spring break.”

  When she didn’t respond, he took the receiver. “Garrett, you made it. Yes, I know the flight was delayed. It’s good to hear your voice.” He laughed, and deliberately turned his back on the room. On Julia. “Well, it’s only just past eleven out here, so you’re not really up that late. Yes, we’re going to see a ball game and Disneyland. Tell your mother and sister I’m heading back to the hotel right now, so wait up. Yes, yes, very soon. Good-bye, Garrett.”

  He hung up, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’d left this number for them. Their flight was delayed in St. Louis, and I was a bit concerned.”

  She met his wary eyes levelly. “That’s perfectly all right. You’d better get back.”

  “Yes. I’ll be in touch.”

  He let himself out, hurriedly, Julia thought. “It’s ironic, isn’t it?” she said when she and Paul were alone. “That boy is only a few short months younger than Brandon. When Lincoln found out I was pregnant, he was so terrified of what would happen that he ran straight to his wife. You could say I saved his marriage, and am in part responsible for Brandon’s half brother’s birth. He sounded like a very bright, well-mannered boy.”

  Paul’s cigar broke in half as he crushed it out. “I’d still be more than happy to rub Hathoway’s face against a concrete wall for you. For an hour or two anyway.”

  “I stopped being angry. I’m not even sure when. But he’s still running.” She walked over to fold herself into Paul’s lap. “I’m not running anymore, Paul, and I do know when that stopped. It was that night, in London, when we sat up so late, and I told you everything. All the secrets I didn’t think I’d ever tell a man.” She moved in, letting her lips toy with his. “So I don’t think I want you to rub his face against concrete.” With a sigh, she trailed kisses down his throat. “Maybe you could just break his arm.”

  “Okay.” His arms tightened so suddenly around her, she gasped. “We’re going to be all right,” he murmured against her hair.

  They fell asleep like that, cuddled on the couch, tangled together, and fully dressed. The knock on the door at a little after six had them jerking awake and blinking at each other.

  They went into the kitchen. Frank took a seat while Julia put a skillet on the range. “I have some good news and some bad news,” he began. “The bad news is the D.A.’s not ready to drop the charges.”

  Julia said nothing, only pulled a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator.

  “The good news is the investigation’s been blown wide open again. Haffner’s statement is working in your favor. We need to check out some points, prove the connection to Kincade. It would have been nice if old Rusty had taken a look in the window himself, since Morrison isn’t going to be telling anyone what he saw that day. But the fact that they were there at all throws a pretty heavy wrench in the works. The biggest factors against you were the timing, and the fact that everyone else inside had an alibi. If we buy Haffner’s story, both those factors are wiped.”

  “If,” Julia repeated.

  “Listen, the creep would like to recant. He’s pretty pissed that you set him up, but he also knows the score. It’s going to be tougher on him if he isn’t cooperative. Now, the D. A.’d like to blow his statement apart, but it hangs together. Once we establish that he was being square about working for Kincade, about following you, the D.A.’s going to have to swallow the rest. Morrison was on the estate at the time of the murder, he saw something, now he’s dead.” He gave a sigh of appreciation as Paul set a mug of coffee in front of him. “We’re working on getting his phone records. It’d be interesting to see who he talked to since the murder.”

  They were talking about murder, Julia thought. And the bacon was sizzling, coffee was steaming. Just outside the window a bird was perched on the deck rail, singing as though its life depended on it.

  Three thousand miles away, Brandon was in school, tackling fractions or taking a spelling test. There was a comfort in that, she realized. In knowing that life went on in its steady, unhurried cycle even while hers spun inside the whole on a skewed orbit.

  “You’re working awfully hard to help me pull out of this.” Julia set the bacon aside to drain.

  “I don’t like working against my gut.” Frank had added just enough milk to his coffee to keep it from scalding his tongue. He sipped and let the hot caffeine slide into his system. “And I’ve got this personal resistance to seeing anybody get away with murder. Your mother was a terrific lady.”

  Julia thought of both of them. The dedicated lawyer who had still found time to bake cookies or fix a hem. The dynamic actress who had grabbed at life with both hands. “Yes, she was. How do you want yours eggs, Lieutenant?”

  “Over hard,” he said, smiling back at her. “Hard as a rock. I picked up one of your books. The one on Dorothy Rogers. You had some amazing stuff in there.”

  Julia broke eggs into the skillet and watched the whites bubble. “She’d had some amazing experiences.”

  “Well, for someone who interrogates people for a living, I’d like to know your trick.”

  “There’s no trick, really. When you talk to people they never forget you’re a cop. Most of what I do is just listening, so they get caught up in their own story and forget all about me, and the tape recorder.”

  “If you ever marketed those tapes, you’d make a fortune. What do you do with them after you’ve finished?”

  She flipped the eggs over, quietly pleased when the yolks held firm. “File them. The tapes aren’t much good without the stories that connect them.”

  Paul set his own mug down with a clatter. “Wait a minute.”

  Turning, a platter piled with food in her hand, Julia watched him rush out of the kitchen.

  “Don’t worry.” Frank rose to take the platter from her. “I’ll eat his share.”

  Five minutes later, Paul was calling from the top of the stairs. “Frank, I want you to take a look at this.”

  Grumbling, Frank piled more bacon on his plate and took it with him. Julia was right behind, a mug of coffee in each hand.

  Paul was in his office, standing in front of the television, watching Eve. “Thanks.” He took a mug from Julia, then nodded at the set. “Jules, I want you to listen carefully to this.”

  “… I’ve taken the precaution of making the other tapes …”

  He hit freeze, turned to Julia. “What other tapes?”

  “I don’t know. She never gave me any tapes.”

  “Exactly.” He kissed her, hard. She could feel his excitement sing through his fingertips as they pressed into her shoulders. “So where the hell are they? She made them between the time you last saw her and the time she was murder
ed. She didn’t give them to Greenburg. She didn’t give them to you. But she meant to.”

  “She meant to,” Julia repeated, lowering herself into a chair. “And she’d come to the guest house to see me, to wait for me.”

  “To give them to you. To erase all the rest of the lies.”

  “We went through that place, top to bottom.” Frank set his plate aside. “There weren’t any tapes except the one in the safe.”

  “No, because someone had taken them. Someone who knew what was on them.”

  “How could anyone have known?” Julia looked back to the set, to the frozen image of Eve. “If she made them that night, or the next morning? She never left the house.”

  “Who came in?”

  Frank pulled out his notebook, flipped pages. “Flannigan, her agent, DuBarry. She might have told any of them something they didn’t want to hear.”

  Julia turned away. She couldn’t face the possibility it could have been Victor. She’d already lost a mother twice. She wasn’t sure she could survive losing another father. “Eve was alive after each of them left. How could they have come back without Joe knowing?”

  “The same way Morrison got in,” Frank mused. “Though it’s tough swallowing the idea that someone else came over the wall.”

  “Maybe they didn’t.” With his eyes on Eve, Paul ran a hand over Julia’s hair. “Maybe they didn’t have to worry about getting in, or getting out. Because they were always inside. They were with her because they were expected to be with her. Someone she cared enough about to explain what she was doing.”

  “You’re reaching for one of the servants,” Frank muttered, and began flipping pages again.

  “I’m reaching for someone who lived on the estate. Who didn’t have to worry about security. Someone who followed her from the main house to the guest house. Someone who could kill Eve in the heat of the moment, and Drake in cold blood.”

  “You’ve got your cook, your gardener, your assistant gardener, a couple of maids, the driver, housekeeper, secretary. They’ve all got a pretty snug alibi for the time of the murder.”