by Lucy Farago
“You think he’s had help?” Cooper asked.
“Maybe. Or he coerced someone into keeping quiet. I hire a lot of shy introverts.” People who, as with him, society didn’t deem worthy of a second look. “They tend to be easily intimidated.” Or too scared to speak their own mind. It was one of the reasons he had Lizzy cater office functions on a regular basis. He hoped to get them to crawl out of their shells.
“You and he were friends, right?”
Duncan nodded, were being the operative word.
“You know him better than most. So tell me, does he strike you as the type of guy capable of killing?” From Cooper’s skeptic tone, he didn’t.
“No, but neither did he strike me as the type of guy who would screw my wife behind my back.”
“Point taken. Unfortunately, him stealing from you doesn’t prove he killed her.”
“You have no proof I did either.”
“True. That, however, doesn’t keep you off the suspect list. You could have slipped away for ten minutes. Sorry.” His smile wasn’t sheepish but apologetic.
“Honestly,” Lizzy said, “I think Victoria was the one doing the coercing.”
Both men turned to her at the same time. “What do you mean?” they asked in unison.
“Read the e-mails. It sounds like two people having a shitty breakup… or something else.”
“You still think she was in on it?”
She shrugged. “Maybe the lieutenant’s source can find out if Victoria had an offshore bank account. Men have done far worse things for a pretty face. She could have flirted with him, made him feel all warm and fuzzy and yuck… horny, then”—she snapped her fingers—“off went his mouth. He brags about the app project and she comes up with the scheme on how to rip you off. She wasn’t getting any alimony from you. And we still need to find the proof she was telling you about, if there was proof.”
“We,” said the lieutenant, “don’t need to find anything. Leave the police work to the police.” And from his tone, he meant business.
While Duncan would admit to knowing little about women, he knew one thing about Lizzy. She put her heart and soul into everything she did. She wanted their new business to succeed. For her, it was personal. The idea may have been his, but she’d run with it. The end products, the packaging, even some of the marketing had come from Lizzy. She wouldn’t allow anything to get between the business and its success. Unfortunately, that included him. Some way, somehow, he’d make her see she was wrong.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
He should be, but he had too much on his mind. “No.” He stopped at a red light, a few blocks from the police station.
“Good. Let’s go to Victoria’s.”
“You think we’ll find something the police didn’t?” Cooper had been adamant they stay out of it.
“Maybe.”
“And what part of ‘I’ll throw your butts in jail for interfering with a police investigation’ didn’t you hear?” The light turned green.
“The part where my business is on the line and I don’t give a rat’s derriere what he said.”
“I didn’t know you spoke French.”
She gave him a duh expression. “C-a-na-dian.”
“Oh, forgot. You have your green card, right?” He took the following right, the road to Victoria’s.
“Of course I do.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want them to deport you for breaking the law.”
“Phftt,” she said, dismissing his concern. “She was your wife. And, technically you still own the downtown condo she lived in.”
“Technically being the key word. We hadn’t signed the papers, but I agreed to give it to her.” More to shut her up than him being generous.
“So, do you have a key or not?”
He sighed. “You’re going to get me arrested, aren’t you?”
“Unknot your panties. This’ll be a piece of cake,” she said with far more enthusiasm than he shared.
Well past midnight, he drove as Lizzy stared at all the flash drives in her hand.
“What does one person need with all of these?”
He, unfortunately, knew exactly what to expect to find on the sticks they’d pilfered from Victoria’s condo. “She kept digital copies of every script she read, and every model shoot she’d been given a copy of for her portfolio.” He bit back a grin.
“Ah hell, you mean I have to go through her pictures. Like reading her fan mail wasn’t nauseating enough?”
“This was your idea,” he said. He parked the Roadster in the driveway instead of the garage. Maybe he could convince her to drive it home. He’d offered to take her there, but having given the police a new suspect to focus on, she insisted they return to his house. His place offered more computers and they’d be able to examine the many flash drives faster.
“Well, Mr. Brainiac, I didn’t hear you come up with a better one.”
“I suggested we let the police handle it.” He unlocked his front door and unceremoniously shoved her inside. “You called me stupid.”
“I did not,” she said over her shoulder. “I said your idea was dumb.”
She was lying. She’d said he was stupid. But she’d also been teasing him mercilessly all night, and given the late hour, he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Not that he could win. In her mood, if he said the sky was blue, she’d say it was purple simply to annoy him. He liked when she teased him. Maybe he was stupid for real, but he figured it was her way of flirting. Something she was doing more and more, and given what she’d said this afternoon, one would assume now she’d be going in the opposite direction.
She made a beeline for his office. “Grab your laptop from the kitchen, and I’ll get started.”
Shaking his head, he did as he was told, thinking the next time he had her beneath him—and there would be a next time—he was going to make certain she did as she was told. The idea of tying her to his bed while he took his sweet time exploring every silky inch of her body gave him a painful hard-on. One he’d better get rid of before he saw her again.
After snagging his laptop and two bottles of water, he met up with Lizzy. She’d piled her red curls in a messy bun atop her head and she’d never looked cuter, squinting at the screen, utter revulsion written all over her face. “I take it you’re not looking at a movie script.”
“Bali,” was all she said, then pretended to gag.
“You know, someone might think you were jealous.”
“Someone,” she replied, without taking her eyes off the computer screen, “is delusional. If I wanted plastic boobs, I could have had them. Would have made a hell of a lot more money too.”
“Oh, I’m not saying you’re jealous over her looks. She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
She looked up then, her expression unimpressed. “I know I’m not ugly. I probably wouldn’t have made it out of Canada alive otherwise. But your wife was far more attractive. It’s the woman herself I couldn’t stand. She was a diva and didn’t know a good thing when she had it.”
That surprised him. “Am I that good thing?” And didn’t Lizzy realize she had it too, if only she’d take it?
“Nope.” She resumed her search, unaware she’d just crushed his heart. “Not falling for that one,” she muttered under her breath, reigniting his hope.
“Lizzy,” he said, his tone sharp. He waited for her to acknowledge him, which took a few seconds.
“Yes?”
“Am I that good thing?” he repeated, needing her to admit it, even if she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“I hated how she treated you,” she finally said. “Like she was some kind of princess and you were her bloody pink poodle.” She glanced up then, staring him straight in the eyes. “And I hated how you didn’t see it.”
Was that what she thought? “Because I let her get away with stuff doesn’t mean I didn’t see it.”
“Then why would you let her treat you like a lapdog?”
He shrugged, encouraged by
the flare of temper. She wouldn’t be getting so mad if she didn’t care for him. “I learned early in life to avoid confrontation. It made living easier, first at home then at school. And it wasn’t like she didn’t treat everyone with condescension. Plus, I assumed she loved me. And that I loved her.”
“Are you saying you didn’t? You were married five years.”
“I didn’t understand what loving someone meant. At least not the right way.” He set the bottles of water on the desk. “My father was an academic. He married very late in life, and my mother was one of his students.”
“High school?” she asked, making a face. “That’s gross.”
“No, college. He wasn’t that amoral. But there was a thirty-five-year age difference. I’m fairly certain I was… unplanned. She left when I was five. Her own father, my grandfather, had died when she was a little girl, and she told me later that one father had been enough. She was killed in car crash when I was nine.” He hadn’t seen much of her, but he missed the times he had. She was the fun his father wouldn’t allow him to have.
“I’m sorry. So it was just you and your dad?”
He nodded. “Until I was ten. Then he retired and remarried.”
“Another student?” she asked warily.
“No. My grandmother.”
Lizzy’s jaw dropped. As would anyone’s.
“My mother’s mother,” he explained. “She had the Elvis newspapers I told you about. They got together after my mom died. Nanna, slash stepmom, loved to take care of people. It was very claustrophobic.”
“So he goes from being the father, to being mothered? That’s…”
“Very Jerry Springer, I know.” He pulled up a chair beside Lizzy and held her hands in his. They were strong, confident. He loved her hands.
“I married Victoria because I thought she checked all the boxes. She was beautiful. She needed me and made me feel like a man. At least, so I thought. I learned the hard way that without respect, you have nothing.”
Lizzy looked down at their joined hands but made no attempt to move hers. “You married a bitch.”
He gave self-deprecating laugh. “I know. But she didn’t deserve to die that way.”
“No,” Lizzy agreed. “But, if it turns out she was in on the embezzling, I think jail time would have killed her.”
“You’re probably right.” His wife might very well have gone insane doing time.
“Let’s finish this.” She pulled away, leaving his hands empty and cold.
Sooner or later, they would end this conversation and one way or another he’d have Lizzy. His IQ had garnered him billions; surely it’d get him the woman he knew in his heart of hearts he was meant to be with. Lizzy wasn’t Victoria. Her ego didn’t require stroking and she could stand on her own two feet. He was the needy one. He hadn’t known what love was until the day he realized he’d fallen in love with her. And now that he did, she’d become as vital to his life as breathing itself.
She popped in another flash drive.
“You know each one of those is dated for last access. I think, like her e-mail, we should check the latest ones first.”
“Good idea,” she said. “This one is from three years ago.” She pulled it out and slid in another, going through five more before get lucky with one dated the morning of the Valentine’s Day party. “Yes,” she hissed, her excitement contagious. She turned her grin on him.
For a split second, he forgot what they’d been doing, hit by a need so strong it must have shown on in his face. Her smile fell, the pupils of her eyes dilating. He wanted to kiss her, was going to kiss her. He leaned in….
The damn phone rang.
He drew away. Lizzy sat back in his chair. She sat back in her chair? Having leaned in to kiss him? Hell yeah, he thought, giving himself a mental high-five. He was going to kill whomever was at the end of the phone line.
“Hello,” he ground out.
“Mr. Moore, sorry for the late call. But I have a question for you.”
“Yes, lieutenant. What is it?” he asked, unable to tear his gaze off Lizzy’s mouth.
“We talked to Beth Ferguson earlier tonight. She admitted to catching your wife going through her desk last week. Mrs. Moore claimed she was looking for a tissue and as they’d once been friends, she didn’t think Mrs. Ferguson would mind. Their confrontation wasn’t pleasant and she was embarrassed to tell you. She thinks it may have been just after you’d given her a new passcode and she’d written it down. I suggest you call her. She’s very upset with herself.”
“I’ll do that, thank you. But what caused you to call her?”
“Because her passcode accessed your computer on Friday. Is that normal?”
“No, she can do that from her own. We share a profile for things I need her to deal with. But lieutenant, she wasn’t in on Friday. She’d asked for the day off to get ready for the party.”
“That’s what she told us. Your HR hadn’t logged hours for her so we found it odd that her codes were on your computer. Do you mind if I send someone over there to dust for prints? Or do I need a search warrant?”
“You have my full cooperation. Security will let you in. I’ll call ahead. Also, there are cameras outside the building. Ask him to show you those too.”
“Thank you. That would be appreciated.”
“Anything I can do to help. Like I said, I didn’t kill my wife. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, your wife didn’t have an offshore account. We searched her bank records here and didn’t find anything. If she was in on it with Harris, he hadn’t yet paid her. We have him in for questioning as we speak. I’ll let you know what we find. Once again, sorry for the late night intrusion.”
“Not all. Call anytime you need me.” What a difference from the night before when they’d hauled him and Lizzy in for questioning. Could it be they believed someone else had killed his wife? For Lizzy’s sake, he hoped so.
He hung up and relayed to Lizzy what had been said. “Well,” she said, sticking her hand inside her pocket and pulling out the diamond stud she’d sat on under his desk. “Do you think this was hers?”
He nodded. “Makes sense.”
Lizzy set the diamond onto the desk. “We should give it to the police.”
“What’s on that flash drive?” She’d trolled through the data while he’d been on the phone with Cooper.
Lizzy yawned. “Nada. Same bullshit. More pictures. Looks like Fiji this time. From New Year’s no less.”
“New Year’s? Are you sure?”
“Pictures are dated. Why?”
“As a bonus I sent several of the office staff to Fiji for New Year’s, including Harris.”
“Guess they went together. She loaded these pics the day of the party. Given what the police said, I think this is what she wanted to show you, their affair. Maybe she didn’t know what Harris was doing? What do you think she wanted on your computer? And why not try and access it from here?”
“If she had Beth’s password, she’d have to use the computer at the office.”
“We didn’t think to check your computer.”
He hadn’t thought they’d had to. “Let’s do it.” Using his laptop he accessed his office computer, then the profile he shared with Beth while Lizzy went through the photos from Fiji. He opened his document folder but nothing new had been added or looked out of place.
“Anything with those pictures?”
“Not really. Looks like vacation shots and many, many selfies. Oh wait. Yup and gross.”
“What?” he asked, the screen going black.
“Nope, no need for you to see.”
“Lizzy, we were getting divorced. I don’t care who she was screwing.” And he didn’t. That part of his life was over.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her question sounding more like she needed to know for herself, than trying to protect him.
“I don’t care if she was screwing the whole world.” There was only one woman he cared about.
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” she said, turning the screen back on. “We should probably send these to Cooper.”
“True,” he said, after seeing a picture of Victoria in bed with Harris. “If the e-mails weren’t proof enough, this is.”
Lizzy took another look. “Yeah, but it begs the question: Who took the shot?”
Chapter Seven
Who had taken the shot? Equally curious and revolted, she decided she didn’t want to know. She pulled out the card Cooper had given her earlier and emailed him the file, deliberately leaving out the part of how they’d come across the pictures. “Well, this has been a blast.” And considering the gravity of their investigation, it had been fun in a train wreck kind of way. “I think it’s time I went home.” She looked at the clock on the computer. “I’ve had two hours of sleep since yesterday morning. I could sleep standing.” She pushed her chair back and stood.
“Do you think it’s safe to drive?”
“I’ve driven on less,” she said, and she had.
“Still, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you getting into an accident. Stay here.”
Her stunned expression must have given her thoughts away.
“No, seriously. Pick a room and crash,” he said, a little too earnestly for him not to have seen the insanity of her spending the night.
If he was going to play ignorant, so would she. “No, thanks. You know, I’ll just go knock on Maggie’s door. She has a guest house.” She’d begun to walk away when Duncan grabbed her arm.
“It’s late. You’ll wake her,” he reasoned.
“It’s Vegas. She owns a club and is used to late hours.” Plus, she’d given Lizzy a key.
“Lizzy.”
“Duncan.”
“What? Are you afraid?” he asked, daring her to disagree.
“Of what? Not being able to keep my hands off you?” She laughed, and frigging yes she was, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to it. This thing between them might not be good for her, but neither was having a chocolate cake all to herself. And she’d done that—once…twice. Three times at most.