“I understand how she feels.”
“Do you? Do you also know how it hurts the family to see her going without?”
“Maybe she needs to feel independent,” Dorothy asserted, somewhat annoyed.
Patrick shrugged. “Independence doesn’t heat the house or feed the stomach. She’s too stubborn for her own good.”
Dorothy wasn’t sure if she should leave, argue with him or change the subject altogether. He couldn’t possibly know anything about her situation, yet it almost seemed as if he wasn’t just talking about his sister.
She gestured to his cup, deciding to change the subject. “I’ve noticed you like your tea as strong as coffee. Is that an Irish preference?”
“My mother brewed it that way when I was growing up. Never could abide the sugar she favors, though.”
“How about whiskey or brandy? My father said nothing took the chill off better than a mug of tea laced with whiskey.”
Patrick’s eyes gleamed. “Now there’s a man I would have liked. But how did he raise such a delicate lady of a daughter?”
“Lady? Delicate? That’s nonsense.” Yet she smiled, even as she scoffed. Her father would have liked Patrick, too. Brian Dunnigan had fought in World War II and been a man’s man—decisive, direct and keen on the outdoors. After returning home from the war, he’d determinedly put aside his dark memories of combat and focused his attention on getting an education, and later on raising a family when a girl twenty-two years his junior convinced him to marry her.
Dorothy knew her mother wasn’t sorry for her choice, though she was spending her senior years alone because of the age difference—Adele celebrated her memories and didn’t waste time with regrets. It would be nice to follow her example, but it wasn’t that easy...suicide wasn’t the same as passing peacefully in bed at the age of ninety-six.
* * *
THE WEATHER TURNED hot on Tuesday and by Wednesday, Layne was miserable. Usually it cooled off in the evenings around the Puget Sound, but every few summers they had periods when it stayed muggy and warm all night long.
The doorbell rang while Layne stood in front of her open refrigerator, fanning cool air onto her skin. She reluctantly left the small oasis and went to answer.
“Oh,” she said, startled to see Matt on the porch.
He lifted two bags. “I hope you haven’t eaten.”
“No.” Puzzled but curious, she stepped to one side.
Matt headed for the kitchen and put one of the bags inside the freezer. “Four pints of ice cream,” he explained over his shoulder. The second bag he put on the counter.
Layne’s nose twitched. It smelled like garlic and peanuts and was making her mouth water, though she hadn’t been hungry because of the heat.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Pad thai. You mentioned liking practically everything.”
She should politely kick him out, but she loved pad thai and the containers were from one of Seattle’s best restaurants.
“I brought the background checks on the employees your aunt remembered,” Matt announced as they settled on the couch in front of her electric fan. She’d given him the names the last time they’d talked, almost as an afterthought.
“That didn’t take long.”
He forked up a mouthful of noodles and chicken. “I’m not sure where Connor learned all his skills and wouldn’t dare ask him, but he’s good.”
“Wouldn’t dare?”
“There are some things you know aren’t a smart idea to ask. Connor has connections everywhere.”
Matt had talked her cell phone number out of her and had called each day since, discussing the case as if they were the best of friends and cohorts. He took an envelope from his pocket and dropped it on her coffee table. “Here they are. Actually, Connor’s still checking one of the names. Do you know how many Henry Browns are listed in the area?”
“Quite a few, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, he’s going to send someone out to verify which one works for Hudson & Davidson.”
“No,” Layne said hastily. “I don’t want anyone getting more uptight about me calling. I’ve only talked to a few of the employees, but apparently word has already gotten around that I’m asking questions. They don’t like it any better than your stepfather.”
“Then I’ll tell Connor to back off.”
Relieved, she stretched her bare feet toward the electric fan. Perspiration trickled down between her breasts and she would have taken off her shorts and T-shirt if Matt hadn’t been there. Lord, she hated hot weather; she was miserable, yet he looked cool and unwrinkled.
It was revolting.
And sexy.
Layne squirmed. Being attracted to Matt was both dumb and futile. He’d shown no signs of reciprocating—which wasn’t surprising considering he’d already met Jeannie—but he was also Matt Hollister, an avowed bachelor. She wasn’t a kid—she didn’t want a brief, meaningless affair. She wanted something real and lasting. Besides, she couldn’t compete with the women from his past, much less the ones he was meeting now.
“How is your aunt doing?” Matt asked after he’d polished off his pad thai. “You were worried that she could lose her house.”
Layne winced. Her mouth really ran away with itself around Matt. “Things are about the same. She works awfully hard. I can’t tell you how often I find her working in her studio in the middle of the night when I stay over. Some of that may be insomnia, but not all.”
“Studio?”
“She mostly does commercial art. She doesn’t enjoy it, but there isn’t much choice. While she sells a few paintings every month, it isn’t enough to live on. Uncle Will admired her talent so much. He’d be appalled that she’s spending her time on greeting cards and the like.”
“It should help when Peter sells the company. He told me he has a good offer.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” Layne pressed her lips together to keep from saying more. Matt must not know his stepfather was trying to keep virtually all the proceeds from the sale of Hudson & Davidson, and probably wouldn’t believe it if she told him. She poked at the pad thai with her fork, then set the container on her broad coffee table.
She wanted to scream, but it wasn’t Matt’s fault that his stepfather was a louse. And it was nice that he seemed concerned about Aunt Dee—maybe he wasn’t as shallow as she’d believed.
Damn.
It was hard enough being sexually turned on by Matt, she didn’t want to like him.
She dropped her head backward so the breeze from the fan could have better access to her neck. There was so much to do. The mountain of papers to go through seemed endless, and waiting for Uncle Rob to call was putting her on edge. But the thing bothering her the most was waiting for the autopsy report—Aunt Dee had requested a copy, but who knew what was holding it up, or if they were going to send it at all. They could have deliberately lost the request in bureaucratic red tape or be withholding it for another reason.
The secrecy alone seemed questionable—if no one had anything to hide, why were they so uptight about providing information? Layne knew enough about police procedure to realize some details were always withheld so a suspect’s story could be cross-checked, but if they truly believed William Hudson was their embezzler, what was the problem? Moreover, the Carrollton Police and the D.A.’s office weren’t just withholding some details; they’d hardly told her anything.
It was exactly the sort of thing that turned a perfectly normal person into a conspiracy theorist.
* * *
MATT FELT LIKE a voyeur as he watched Layne from the corner of his eye. She was short, definitely not curvy, and looked fourteen with her pink toenails and hair pulled high in a ponytail. It didn’t make sense that she was affecting him so much. Yet even though her bust was smaller than he pre
ferred, he had a strong urge to see beneath the thin fabric clinging to her damp skin.
The faint scent of warm peaches rose, tickling his nose, and he restrained a groan.
Maybe he was having trouble with his libido because it was easier than thinking about Peter and wondering what was going on with Hudson & Davidson. He was getting better at reading Layne, and he knew something was up from the tension in her body when he’d asked about the sale of the company. But surely Peter was handling it ethically. Hell, his stepfather was now the Chief Financial Officer of the Eisley Foundation. He’d damn well better be doing the right thing.
“Uh...how about some ice cream?” Matt suggested, putting his empty food container on the coffee table, as well.
“Sure. You said you got four pints. Do you always go overboard like that?”
“It’s Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. You can’t go overboard with Cherry Garcia.”
Layne raised an eyebrow at him. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the cherry ice-cream type.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d have expected something more...I don’t know, sophisticated, like...kiwi and passion-fruit gelato with kirsch. What is kirsch, anyway?”
“It’s brandy made from cherries, so you’re partly right. And in my opinion, it’s great with Cherry Garcia ice cream.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it—I’m not much of a drinker. I prefer soda water.” Layne got up and returned a few minutes later with two bowls of ice cream.
“So, what was your sister’s big news at the family dinner on Saturday?” Matt asked, dipping his spoon into the creamy concoction.
“She’s getting married.”
He choked and nearly inhaled a large chunk of cherry. Layne thumped him on the back as he coughed.
“You did say it was your other sister making the announcement, not Jeannette, right?” he asked, recalling the prowling gleam in Jeannette McGraw’s eyes only a few weeks before.
“Yeah, Stephanie is engaged to Owen Fitzsimmons, the author. I didn’t know they’d met, but apparently Steffie operated on his grandfather and one thing led to another. She’s a neurosurgeon.”
“Jeannette didn’t mention that,” Matt murmured, trying to recall what Layne’s sister had said about her family at the gala. Not much, actually. Other than commenting that her parents were doctors, she’d mostly wanted to ensure he didn’t have any interest in Layne.
“Steffie is brilliant. She went through medical school and her training in record time. And my brother, Jeremy, is running for Congress next year. Obviously he didn’t go into the medical field, but my parents are okay with it.”
Matt ate another bite of ice cream. “So when can we go through your uncle’s credit card statements?”
“With so much going on I haven’t had a chance to talk to Aunt Dee about it. But I’ve been thinking. I know Mr. Davidson doesn’t want me investigating, but I need to talk to more employees. You never know what piece of information they could tell me that would be important. So I’d like to ask him for a full employee list.”
“Pete feels the case is closed.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Layne, my stepfather didn’t want me to tell you anything,” Matt said bluntly. “I did it because I believed it was right.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“I can try getting Pete to agree to a meeting, but even if he sees you, I don’t think he’ll cooperate. You’ll probably just be wasting your time.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
Though Matt knew he was going to regret it, he nodded reluctantly. “Okay, I’ll talk to him in the morning and ask if he’ll meet with you.”
“I’m willing to come whenever he’s available. My work hours are pretty flexible,” Layne said eagerly. “I met Mr. Davidson a couple of times when I was visiting my aunt and uncle, but I don’t remember him that well. In the meantime, I’ll keep calling the employees my aunt remembers, along with the names the ones I’ve talked to have given me.”
Terrific.
Matt spared a brief, longing thought for the period in his life when all he’d worried about was having fun. He wouldn’t go back to those days and didn’t regret giving them up, yet it had been so much easier to drink a piña colada on a beach than be an adult with real responsibilities.
* * *
LAYNE DRESSED CAREFULLY for her meeting with Peter Davidson the next afternoon. She didn’t have a high opinion of the man, but it wouldn’t do any good to offend him by seeming too casual.
Matt had called that morning arranging for them to get together in his penthouse on the top floor of the Eisley Foundation building. He was waiting in the foyer when she arrived and took her up in his private elevator.
“Peter sent a text message that he’ll be delayed a few minutes,” Matt explained as he escorted her into the living room.
Though Layne figured the “delay” was a power strategy, she didn’t mind. It gave her time to gape at the view, which was even more spectacular than the one from Matt’s office. As for the rest of what she could see of the penthouse, it was rather cold and stark. The large room had an open industrial look with the original brickwork and old iron pipes left exposed. The furniture was black leather, and a handful of metal sculptures provided focal points.
“Have a seat.” Matt motioned to one of the chairs.
Layne sat down, her pulse speeding up when she heard the restrained chime of the private elevator. What would it be like to have an elevator opening into your home? Matt had used a special key and code to operate it, so he had privacy if he wanted, but it still seemed weird.
“Hello?” called a voice.
“Come in, Peter.” Matt walked toward the partition screening the elevator and an older man appeared around it. They shook hands and Layne watched, trying to discern as much as possible from Peter Davidson’s face.
He was handsome, startlingly so, with light brown hair that was silvery at the temples. His tall, athletic build reminded her of a tennis player—a game he’d have plenty of time to play once he sold Hudson & Davidson. It also wouldn’t hurt that he was married to the daughter of an obscenely wealthy man.
As for whether he was the real villain, stealing from the company and then killing her uncle to pin it on him...? It was most likely that Peter had simply taken the expedient route of assuming Uncle Will’s guilt and brushing everything under the carpet, but who knew?
The two men turned and Peter’s tight smile faded as he stepped toward her.
“Ms. McGraw,” he said coolly, extending his arm.
“Mr. Davidson.” Layne had an impulse to wipe her hand after their fingers touched. She felt an instant dislike for her uncle’s business partner, though she was willing to acknowledge she was already biased. The only good thing she had to say was that Peter hadn’t claimed it was a pleasure meeting her.
She looked closer and saw that the expression in his eyes wasn’t cold...it was furious.
“I wanted to ask if you would give me a full list of employees who were working at Hudson & Davidson seven months ago. Particularly from the accounting division,” she said without preamble, figuring there wasn’t much hope of calming him down.
“Why, so you can make more trouble?”
“I’m not trying to make trouble. I’m just trying to find the truth.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. “We know the truth.”
“Actually, the only thing I know for sure is that my uncle was accused of a crime and died before he could defend himself,” Layne countered, trying to keep from losing her temper.
From the corner of her eye she saw Matt sink onto a bar stool with a resigned expression. He probably expected her to blow up and make everything worse.
“The people who matter know what happened.”
�
��The people who matter?” she repeated in disbelief.
“Yes. The district attorney, the police and myself. Or are you forgetting that I’m the one who had to clean up the mess William made? And now you’re asking questions and making more problems for me to handle. The only reason I took this meeting was to tell you to stop. William’s assistant phoned me several days ago, saying you’d spoken to her. We’ve finally found some peace, and now you’re stirring things up again. He was guilty, plain and simple. Accept it and move on.”
“If you’re so sure of the evidence, why won’t you let the Carrollton Police Department and the D.A.’s office talk to anyone?” The query was a stab in the dark; Layne didn’t know for certain that her uncle’s business partner was behind the bureaucratic stonewalling though it seemed likely. Her research had revealed that Peter was not only friends with the D.A., but a major contributor to his last two reelection campaigns. The D.A. was probably happy to do him a favor, especially if it helped keep a large company like Hudson & Davidson from going out of business.
Peter crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet like a bulldog. “I’ve tried to keep the details out of public view to save the company, my reputation and what’s left of William’s good name. It’s the least I can do for his wife.”
“The least you could have done was to stand by your friend when he told you he was innocent,” Layne said quietly. “The way he would have stood by you. And maybe if you’d tried to find the truth, we wouldn’t be here today.”
She got up and walked to the elevator, feeling curiously calm. Matt had explained you could exit without the special key, so she pushed the button and the door swooshed open.
Nothing had been accomplished, but her dislike for Peter Davidson had turned into outright loathing.
CHAPTER TEN
MATT HAD NEVER seen his stepfather so angry. He rested an elbow on the breakfast bar, watching Peter pace the long length of the living room.
“How can you help that woman?” Peter demanded. “I couldn’t believe it when you said you’d told her about the case.”
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