Reluctant Wife

by Carla Cassidy

  At four o’clock, Edie poked her head in the door to tell Samantha that Wylie Brooks had arrived with a handful of new reports.

  “Wylie.” Samantha stood to greet the bald-headed private investigator. “I certainly hope you have something more interesting than the last batch of reports you brought me.”

  He grinned and handed her a sheaf of papers. “I think you’ll find a few points of interest in these.”

  Samantha perked up at his words. She sat down and riffled through the reports. “Sit down and tell me what you discovered.”

  He shook his head, a sheepish grin stealing across his features. “I can’t stay. I’ve got a plane to catch. I’m heading to Mexico on a little fishing trip.”

  “Now?” Samantha frowned in dismay. “But what if I need something from you?”

  “I told both you and Tyler that I’d do what I could to help you, but nothing is going to make me postpone this trip. It’s been planned for the better part of six months. Besides—” he gestured to the papers in front of her “—I’ve done all I can do for you. Those contain everything I could learn about Georgia and Kyle Monroe. You’ve already got the background stuff on Rick Brennon and Morgan Monroe. That’s everything you asked me for.”

  “You’re right.” Samantha sighed. “There’s probably nothing more you can do for me.” She stood and shook his hand. “Thanks, Wylie, for all your help. I know this isn’t the way you planned to spend your retirement.”

  “A fishing pole in one hand, a beer in the other. That’s my idea of retirement.”

  Samantha laughed. “Have a good trip, and happy fishing.”

  As soon as he left, Samantha sat down and began to read the reports. Within minutes she found the facts Wylie thought would be of interest to her. Excitement bubbled inside her. Grabbing the pertinent papers, she left her office.

  “Is Tyler back yet?” she asked Edie.

  “No. He hasn’t come back from lunch.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “He mentioned the country club,” Edie replied.

  “Call me a cab,” Samantha said, then raced back into her office and grabbed her coat.

  A few minutes later, sitting in the back of a taxi, Samantha read and reread the report on Georgia Monroe, wondering if she was making a big deal out of nothing.

  She needed to talk to Tyler, tell him what Wylie had discovered, see if her thoughts were completely out in left field, or were directly on track.

  Vaguely she wondered who the client was that Tyler was wining and dining at the club. Surely whoever it was would understand her interruption. Dominic’s life hung in the balance and she wanted to bounce her scenario off Tyler as soon as possible.

  When the cab pulled up in front of the club, she jumped out. “Wait here,” she said. “I might be a few minutes, but I’ll be back.”

  She didn’t want to send the taxi away in case Tyler had already left. And if he was still here, she would bounce her idea off him, then leave him to deal with his client.

  As she walked into the luxury dining area, she was overly conscious of the cast on her leg, the mustard that had leaked out of her sandwich and onto her blouse, and the fact that as usual her hair was a tangled mess.

  She pulled her coat closer around her, hoping to hide the mustard stain. She raked a hand through her hair as the hostess eyed her with a hint of disdain. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying long,” she said to the perfectly coiffed woman. She spied Tyler seated with an older, distinguished-looking man.

  He looked up and saw her, his eyes widening in surprise. She waved to him. He excused himself and hurried toward her, a frown puckering his forehead. “Samantha... what’s going on? What are you doing here?” He took her by the arm and pulled her away from the hostess.

  “Wylie came by and gave me some background reports. I found something interesting in one of them—”

  “Can’t this wait?” he interrupted. “I’m in the middle of something important here.” His voice was snappish, his features taut with tension.

  Samantha stared at him, surprised by his obvious irritation with her. “I’m sorry.” She took a step backward. “This was thoughtless of me.” She turned to leave.

  “Samantha, wait!” She didn’t stop. Tyler watched her go, knowing he’d hurt her by snapping at her.

  She’d surprised him by showing up here. He hadn’t wanted her to know that the man he was meeting with was the managing partner of a large law firm in St. Louis, here to interview Tyler for a job.

  When Tyler had looked up and seen her, guilt had swept through him, and it had been his guilt that had made him cross with her.

  He headed back to the table. He would apologize to Samantha later, explain to her how she’d thrown him by showing up here. Once he’d locked in a partnership at the St. Louis firm, he would sell her his half of Justice Inc. and they would both be better off in the long run.

  Samantha had the cab take her directly home. She wasn’t angry with Tyler. She wasn’t even that hurt by his sharpness with her. It had been foolish and thoughtless of her to disturb his meeting. She could have waited and talked to him later in the evening. As usual, she’d allowed an impulse to rule her actions.

  Once in the house, she decided to take a hot bath and think again about the reports Wylie had given her.

  Minutes later she was settled in the tub, her injured leg propped out of the water and her head resting on an inflatable pillow. The warm water soothed her, making any thought nearly impossible.

  She was half asleep when the phone rang. She reached for the cordless near the tub. “Hello?”

  “Samantha?” Tyler’s voice drifted across the line. “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

  “I’m here.” She sat up, realizing the water had grown tepid.

  “Samantha...I’m sorry I was so brusque with you at the club.”

  “No, Tyler, I’m the one who should apologize for interrupting your meeting. I found out a few things on the Marcola case and wanted to bounce them off you. I should have waited until you got back to the office. In any case, we can talk when you get home.”

  “It will be a little while. I’ve got a few errands to run.”

  “Where are you now?” she asked.

  “At the airport. I had to drop somebody off.”

  “Would you mind stopping by the office and grabbing my briefcase off my desk?” she asked. Using her toes, she managed to turn on the hot water faucet.

  “No problem. What’s that noise?”

  “The hot water,” she answered. “I’m in the bathtub.” She smiled into the receiver. “If you hurry home, Tyler, there will still be lots of bubbles.”

  “Samantha...”

  “Hurry home, Tyler.” She hung up and relaxed back against the pillow. Tonight they would make love. And tonight she would tell him she loved him.

  She shivered with excitement. If she was right about what she’d read in the reports, Dominic was on his way to an acquittal and hopefully Samantha was on the road to happiness with Tyler.

  Tyler. Tonight she would tell him she loved him and he would confess that he loved her, too. Oh, he hadn’t said the words to her yet, but she knew he did. His love shone in his eyes at unguarded moments, it showed in his worry about her health and more than anything, it radiated from him when they made love.

  Moments later she got out of the tub and pulled on a loose lounging gown. It was Virginia’s day off. Usually they ordered something in when Virginia wasn’t there. Tonight she would surprise Tyler by cooking something. But first she wanted to make a phone call—follow up the lead that Wylie had provided.

  She went to the phone in the kitchen and dialed Georgia Monroe’s number. Omelettes...that was what she would make. Quick and easy, they were one of her few culinary specialties.

  “Georgia, this is Samantha Dark,” she said when the woman answered the phone. “I am so sorry to bother you, but I’ve managed to—uh—spill coffee over some of the notes I took t
he other day when I spoke to you,” she improvised.

  “Oh, honey, I do clumsy things like that all the time,” Georgia replied with a friendly laugh.

  “I was wondering if I could double-check some things with you...just for the record?”

  “Of course. Whatever I can do to help.”

  “You said you saw Abigail when before the murder?”

  “A couple of days before. Let me think....” Georgia paused thoughtfully. “Abigail was killed on a Wednesday and I guess it was Monday when I met her for lunch.”

  Samantha felt the flurry of excitement dance inside her. “And when did you tell me Kyle was born?”

  A long pause followed. “I’m not sure what Kyle’s birth date has to do with Abigail’s death.” A decided chill had replaced the friendliness in Georgia’s voice.

  “Neither do I,” Samantha said. “But I’m wondering how it is you had a hysterectomy when you were thirty-five, then gave birth to Kyle when you were forty-two.” She heard Georgia’s soft gasp.

  “You’ve done your homework well, Ms. Dark.” There was another long pause. “Kyle was adopted, but I would prefer you wouldn’t mention that fact to anyone. We decided not to tell Kyle. As far as he is concerned, as far as Morgan and I are concerned, he’s ours.”

  “But I have a copy of his birth certificate here that shows Morgan as the father and you as the mother.”

  Again a pregnant pause filled the line. “Money can do miraculous things,” Georgia finally answered.

  “Thank you, Georgia, that’s all I need from you for now.” Samantha hung up the receiver and stared at it thoughtfully. So Kyle was adopted. Big deal. And Morgan and Georgia had obviously paid somebody off to hide the truth. How could that information help in Dominic’s case?

  She left the kitchen and went into the study, where the Marcola crime-scene photographs were spread across the top of her father’s desk. Thankfully, the photographer had been zealous, as if he were being paid for each individual shot. There were pictures of Abigail on the bed, pictures of the champagne bottle and two glasses in the living room. Each and every room of the Monroe apartment had been captured on celluloid. Flipping through the more graphic ones, Samantha came to the photos of the kitchen.

  “There,” she said triumphantly as she stared at the picture that perfectly captured a foil-wrapped loaf of bread on the counter. A blue ribbon rode the center of the loaf. Blue for Wednesday. The day Abigail had died.

  Georgia had lied. She’d seen Abigail at some point on the day of the young woman’s murder. Why would Georgia lie unless she had something to hide?

  Samantha went back to the kitchen and sank down at the table, suddenly chilled. Was it possible Abigail Monroe had somehow discovered the truth about Kyle and had threatened to tell the young man? Was it possible Georgia had killed Abigail in order to keep their secret safe? Samantha remembered the strength in the older woman’s hands as she’d kneaded the bread dough. It was possible.

  Where was Tyler? She needed to bounce these things off him, make sure she wasn’t completely off track. Even if this hadn’t been the motive for the murder, Samantha could use some of this information to cast reasonable doubt that Dominic was guilty.

  She got up and began assembling the ingredients for the omelettes. As she chopped onions and green peppers, she tried to think of any other scenario that would make sense. As she diced ham and shredded cheese, she contemplated the strength of the information she’d gleaned.

  She had no idea how long Tyler would be, so once she had everything ready to cook, she went back into the study and looked at the photos again. Even though she couldn’t prove anything, would this information be enough to cast reasonable doubt? That was why she needed Tyler’s input. She lacked the necessary objectivity.

  She also scanned Wylie’s report on Georgia again. She’d told Wylie she wanted to know everything there was to know about Morgan, Georgia and Kyle Monroe, and Rick Brennon. Wylie had been a genius, detailing their lives with information Samantha suspected he’d gained through both legal and illegal methods.

  Georgia’s hysterectomy had been done in a Kansas City hospital and Samantha suspected it had been performed there specifically so that nobody in Wilford would know about it. In the months preceding Kyle’s birth, Georgia had been out of the country. Again, Samantha had a feeling she’d left so that nobody would know she wasn’t pregnant. The adoption had probably been illegal, without proper paperwork or arrangements. But was that secret big enough to kill for?

  Samantha raked a hand through her hair thoughtfully. She was savvy enough to know that sometimes it took a very small threat to drive a potential murderer over the edge.

  She went to the window and looked out into approaching night. Where was Tyler? Surely he’d had enough time to run errands and get home. Where could he be?

  Tyler had been offered a partnership in Bruner, Sandorf and Kearnes of St. Louis. Before seeing Leo Bruner off at the airport, Tyler had told the older man he would think about the offer. Bruner, Sandorf and Kearnes had a good reputation and was one of the powerhouse firms in the Midwest. Tyler knew he would be lucky to be a part of the business.

  After running his errands, Tyler pulled into the parking space in front of Justice Inc. and for a moment simply sat in the car, staring at the building where he’d spent so much of his life for the past ten years.

  Justice Inc. would never be the powerhouse that Bruner, Sandorf and Kearnes was. Jamison hadn’t cared about expanding, bringing in more lawyers, more money. Justice Inc. had been his—and Tyler’s. Tyler had put his heart and soul into the firm, making his work the single focus of his life.

  He got out of the car and went inside. Instead of heading directly for Samantha’s office, he went up to his own and sat down at his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, his thoughts still a jumble of fear and regret, emotion and logic.

  The idea of leaving Wilford and Justice Inc. caused an aching grief to pierce his soul, and yet he knew it was necessary. He couldn’t remain here, working with Samantha, loving her yet remaining unwilling to take steps toward a permanent commitment to her. She deserved more than he could ever give.

  But maybe he wouldn’t have to leave, a small voice prodded hopefully. Samantha hadn’t told him she loved him. Perhaps he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe she really was just having fun, experimenting with her first sexual relationship. Eventually the novelty would wear off and she would seek a more permanent, life partner.

  He had no idea how long he sat there, lost in thought, when he heard the first faint noise that told him he wasn’t alone in the building. He leaned forward, straining to hear, wondering if it had just been the clang of the heat ducts or something more ominous.

  A new noise, the furtive slap of feet against a floor, made his stomach tighten in response. Had he sat here so long that Samantha had grown tired of waiting and come to retrieve her briefcase herself?

  He left his office and went to the top of the stairs and looked down. A faint light spilled from the doorway of Samantha’s office. Apprehension turned to irritation. She was the most impatient, irksome woman he’d ever known. He could hear the shuffle of papers from where he stood.

  “Samantha, I told you I’d get your briefcase for you,” he said as he came down the stairs. The sounds ceased and once again Tyler felt a whisper of anxiety sweep through him.

  Samantha would have answered him. She would have had a smart-mouth reply. Tyler paused midway on the stairs, unsure whether to go forward or back.

  The silence stretched taut. Tyler imagined he could hear the sound of the person’s breathing, then realized it was his own. Cautiously, he stepped down a stair, then another and another until he was on the ground floor just outside Samantha’s office door.

  Drawing a deep breath, his adrenaline pumping like fire in his blood, he whirled into the office. Nobody. A glowing ring of light from the desk lamp surrounded the desk. Tyler frowned. Had he only imagined the noises?


  When he saw the files spilling out of the cabinet and the papers strewn around the floor, he knew he hadn’t imagined anything. Somebody had been here. Somebody other than Samantha.

  Hearing a sound behind him, he spun around. “You!” Tyler gasped in surprise, just as Jamison’s favorite pewter statue came down on his head.

  Chapter 13

  Samantha looked at the clock for the hundredth time in the past hour, wondering what could be keeping Tyler. When the doorbell rang, she jumped up from the desk, certain it must be him and he’d forgotten his key.

  She pulled open the door, surprised to see Bones standing on the porch. “Bones! What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve got some information for you, Samantha. Stuff that might help your client.”

  “Come in.” She gestured him into the hallway, then pointed to the study doorway. “Let’s go in there and we can talk.”

  “Hey, nice place,” Bones said as he stepped into the study. He walked over to the bar, eyeing the bottles. “Do you mind?”

  “Help yourself.” She sat in one of the wing chairs and waited impatiently for him to help himself to a healthy shot of Tyler’s favorite brandy. “So, what have you got for me?” she asked once he’d seated himself in the chair opposite hers.

  He took a sip of brandy and leaned back in the chair with a contented sigh. “Ah, this is the life. I can’t believe you left all this behind when you left Wilford.”

  “There’s more to life than a big house,” Samantha returned, patience wearing thin. “So, what do you have to tell me, Bones? I’ve got precious little time to figure out how to save Dominic from a conviction.”

  “Did I ever tell you I used to do a little gardening?”

  Samantha stared at the tall, thin man, wondering what on earth he was talking about. “That’s nice, Bones, but—”

  “Yeah, worked for Georgia Monroe for a couple of years. Sweet lady, Georgia. I was there when Morgan told her he wanted a divorce.” He shook his head, his eyes glittering as they focused on Samantha. “Sad. The poor woman was devastated. After all she’d done for him. She took in his illegitimate child, raised him as her own, and that’s the thanks she got.”