He rifled through a few items and then stepped back. A folded paper square fell to the floor. Arden could see it in a patch of sunlight. She didn’t know if the note had come from one of Reid’s pockets or if the intruder had dropped it. If he bent to pick it up, he would surely see her. He didn’t pick it up. Instead, he kicked the note back into the closet, as if he didn’t want it to be found. At least not right away.
The closet door closed. The footsteps receded across the bedroom floor, into the living room and then down the stairs. Arden lifted her head, turning her ear to the sound. She was almost certain she heard the back door close, but she waited for what seemed an eternity before she ventured from her hiding place.
She grabbed the note as she scrambled to her feet and all but lunged from the closet, drawing long breaths as she tried to calm her pounding heart. Then she slipped through the rooms, pausing at the top of the stairs to listen once more before slowly descending. She went through every room checking doors and windows, and only when she was satisfied that she was alone did she go back into Reid’s office and open the folded note.
A woman’s name and phone number were scrawled in flowery cursive across the paper and sealed with a vivid red lipstick print.
The crimson kiss of death.
Chapter Eight
Arden jumped when she heard footsteps on the front porch. She was seated at Reid’s desk trying to concentrate on work, but now she leaped to her feet and hurried over to the window to glance out. She could see Reid through the sidelight. Before he had a chance to insert his key in the lock, she drew back the door, grabbed his arm and all but yanked him inside. She’d never been so relieved to see anyone.
“Hello to you, too,” he quipped, and then he saw her face as she closed the door and turned the dead bolt. He tossed his jacket on the banister and removed his sunglasses. “Arden? What’s going on?”
“Someone broke into your house after you left.”
“What?” He took her arm. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
Even as shaken as she was, his concern still gratified her. “I’m fine. I wasn’t touched. He never even saw me. When I realized it wasn’t you, I went upstairs and hid.”
“How did he get in?”
“He came in through the back door.”
His hand tightened on her arm as he glanced past her into the kitchen. Then his gaze shot back to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I was scared and I’m still a little wobbly, but I’m fine.”
He laid his sunglasses on the entrance table without ever releasing her. “When did all this happen?”
“A little while ago.”
“Did you call the police?”
Arden hesitated. She hadn’t called the police. She hadn’t called anyone. The reason didn’t matter at the moment. They would get to that later. “There wasn’t time. It happened so quickly...”
He took both her arms and studied her intently as if he needed to prove to himself she wasn’t injured. She inhaled sharply. She’d forgotten how dark his eyes were. A deep, rich brown with gold flecks that looked like tiny flares in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He’d removed his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He was very tanned, Arden noticed. She wondered if he still went to the beach on weekends. She wondered a lot of things about Reid’s life, but now was not the appropriate time to ask questions or wallow in memories. An hour ago, she’d been certain an old killer had come to track her down. She could still picture his shadow across the closet floor, could still hear the sound of his breath as he stood in the doorway searching through Reid’s clothes. Had he known she was there all along? Had he left her alone in order to prolong his sick game?
“Arden?”
She jumped. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
Reid canted his head as if trying to figure something out. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She nodded. “I said someone broke in, but that’s not entirely accurate. He had a key. He let himself in the back door, and he didn’t seem at all worried about being caught. He must have seen you leave and thought the house was empty.” She moved away from Reid’s touch and turned to glance back out at the street. Everything looked normal, but she could imagine someone out there watching the house, perhaps plucking a magnolia blossom from a nearby tree as he vectored in on the window where she stood.
“Did you get a look at him?” Reid asked. “Can you describe him?”
“Not really. I only glimpsed him through the window. He seemed to be about your general height and build.” She scoured a neighbor’s yard before turning back to Reid. “Have you given a key to anyone lately? A repairman or a neighbor maybe?”
“I don’t give out my keys.” He spoke adamantly.
“Did you get the locks changed after you moved in?”
He winced. “I’ve been meaning to.”
“Reid. That’s the first thing you’re supposed to do when you move into a new place.”
“I know that, but I’ve been a little busy lately.” Now he was the one who turned to glance out the window. He looked tense as he studied the street. They were both on edge. “This is my fault,” he said. “I should never have left you here alone.”
She scoffed at his reasoning. “Don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t have known something like this would happen. And you did caution me not to let anyone in. That’s why I hid. I kept thinking about what you said earlier. We’re both connected to that murder. If your warning hadn’t been fresh on my mind, I might have confronted him. Who knows what would have happened then?”
“You’ve always been quick on your feet,” Reid said. “So you went upstairs to hide. Could you tell if anything was missing when you came back down?”
“I don’t think he took anything. But he may have left something.”
Reid frowned at her obliqueness. “What do you mean?”
“He went up to your apartment. By that time, I was hiding in your closet and I couldn’t see anything. I heard him walking around in the bedroom, opening dresser drawers and looking out on the balcony. When he came over to the closet, I was certain he knew I was in there. You can’t imagine the things that went through my head. I even thought I smelled magnolia...” She rubbed a hand up and down the chill bumps on her arm. “You must think I’m crazy.”
He gave her a strange look. “Because you smelled magnolia? No, I don’t think you’re crazy. Far from it. What happened then?”
“He dropped a note on the floor. Or else it fell out of one of your pockets. He kicked it to the back of the closet as if he didn’t want you to find it right away.”
Reid had gone very still. Something flickered in his eyes. “Do you have the note?”
She took it from her dress pocket and handed it to him. He unfolded the paper and scanned the contents. Arden watched his expression. The look that came over his face frightened her more than the intruder.
“That’s the dead woman’s name, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.
He glanced up from the note. “How did you know?”
“The police chief had a press conference earlier. I streamed it while I worked.”
“Did he say anything about suspects? Or the magnolia blossom?”
“He was pretty vague. They’re pursuing several leads, leaving no stone unturned and all that, but he didn’t say a word about the magnolia blossom.”
“They’re still keeping that close to the vest,” Reid said.
“Or else they have no idea of the significance.”
“I think they know. They don’t want to panic the public with premature talk of a copycat killer.”
“Maybe,” Arden said pensively. “I keep going back to my mother’s murder. The magnolia blossom left on the summerhouse steps was all but forgotten because the crimson kiss of death soon became Finch’s signature. You said yourself only a handful of
people would understand the implication of a white magnolia blossom. You and I are two of them. My mother’s killer is a third.”
“I don’t want to get sidetracked with a long conversation about Orson Lee Finch’s guilt or innocence,” Reid said. “Right now, we need to focus on our immediate situation.”
“I agree. First things first. Why would someone break into your home and leave that note? Did you know this woman?” Arden had expected an instant denial; instead, he dropped his gaze to the note, pausing for so long that her heart skipped a beat. “Reid?”
He glanced up. “I didn’t know her, but it’s possible I may have seen her on the night she was murdered.”
Arden caught her breath. “When? Where? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t know until last night. I’m still not certain it was her.”
“Reid—”
He headed her off. “I’ll tell you everything I know, but I need a drink first. It’s been a long day.”
Arden followed him into the kitchen. When he got a bottle of whiskey from one of the cabinets, she took it from him and poured the contents down the sink.
He didn’t try to stop her, though his look was one of annoyance. “Why did you do that?”
“Because a drink is the last thing you need,” she said firmly. “Until we figure out what’s going on, we both need to keep a clear head.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue, and then he shrugged. “Water, then.”
She handed him a chilled bottle from the refrigerator. He took a long swig before recapping and setting it aside. “Let’s go sit in my office. This could take a while.”
Arden led the way this time, taking the position behind his desk where she had been working earlier. Reid didn’t seem to notice or care. He plopped down in a chair across from her, his long legs sprawled in front of him as he braced his elbows on the armrests.
“Where should we start?” Arden asked.
“I’m still trying to figure out why you didn’t call the police,” he said.
“I told you. There wasn’t time.”
“I mean afterward. Why didn’t you at least call me?”
“You said you had meetings all afternoon. I didn’t want to leave a voice mail. I thought it better that I tell you in person. As for the police...” She paused. “How long have we known each other? Since we were four years old, right? Has there ever been a time when I couldn’t read you like a book?”
He lifted a brow but kept silent.
“I knew the moment you came to Berdeaux Place last evening that you were keeping something from me. I felt it even stronger this morning. I didn’t want to involve the police until I could figure out what you might be mixed up in.”
Reid looked taken aback by her revelation. “You were trying to protect me?”
“Why does that surprise you? We’ve always had each other’s back.”
“Fourteen years, Arden.”
“So?”
“That’s a long time.”
“Some things don’t change, Reid.” She tried not to think about the loneliness of those fourteen years. “My turn to ask the questions,” she said briskly. “Who was that man on the street you talked to this morning?”
He answered without hesitation, as if he’d decided it was pointless to keep things from her any longer. “Dave Brody.”
“Your father’s ex-client? What did he want?”
Reid sighed. “It’s a long story—in a nutshell, he has a bone to pick about his defense. Ever since he got out of prison, he’s been coming around making veiled threats. He watches the house, follows me when I leave. That sort of thing.”
“But you weren’t his attorney. Why is he harassing you?”
“He wants me to help prove that my father was responsible for Ginger Vreeland’s disappearance.”
Arden stared at him in shock. “Responsible...how? He doesn’t think—”
“No, nothing like that. He thinks she was paid to leave town.”
“That’s still insane. Boone Sutton is one of the best defense attorneys in the state. Why would he get rid of his own witness?”
“Apparently, Ginger kept a little black book with all her clients’ names and their preferences. Kinks. Whatever you want to call them. Brody is convinced my father was one of her clients. He was afraid of what might come out during her testimony so he arranged for her to disappear.”
“But she was prepped for her testimony. Wouldn’t he have known what she would say before he called her to the witness stand?”
“Witnesses have been known to fall apart under cross-examination,” Reid said. “Plus, we don’t know what went down between them before she left town. Maybe she blackmailed him. Offered to keep quiet in exchange for money.”
“Wow.” Arden sat back against the chair. “I have to say, this is getting really interesting.”
“I’m glad you’re entertained.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not. Boone Sutton and a prostitute? Wouldn’t that set tongues to wagging!” A dozen questions bubbled, but Arden batted them away so that she could remain focused on the situation at hand. “What happens if we find Ginger Vreeland and her little black book? What does Brody plan to do with the contents?”
“My guess is, he’s looking for a big payday. Barring that, he’ll settle for my father’s public humiliation.”
“And you’re helping him,” Arden said. “So what does he have on you?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes, I think I’d better.”
He told her about the confrontation in the alley and Brody’s claim that he had photographs from the bar. He told her about the note, the laced drink and the possibility that someone with a lot of power was setting him up for murder. Arden leaned forward, watching his expression as she hung on his every word.
By the time he finished, she was aghast. “This is unreal. Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure Brody’s not the one setting you up? Or maybe he’s just making it all up to get you to help him.”
“He showed me a photograph from the bar, so he’s not making everything up. As to the rest...” Reid shrugged. “I don’t put anything past him.”
“What are you going to do?”
“For the time being, try to keep a low profile.” He massaged his temples with his fingertips.
“What did you tell the detective who came by here this morning?”
“Nothing of what I just told you.”
“Why not? If someone is setting you up, the police need to know about it. At the very least, you should tell them about Brody’s threats.”
Reid dropped his hands back to the armrests. “You saw the way Detective Graham looked at us this morning. He didn’t even bother to hide his contempt.”
“He did have an attitude,” Arden agreed.
“More than an attitude. He came to my front door with a chip on his shoulder. Turns out, our paths have crossed before. He arrested me several years back. Apparently, my father pulled strings to arrange for my release and have my record expunged. Then he made sure Graham wasn’t promoted to detective for another five years.”
Arden digested that for a moment. “Does your father have that kind of clout with the police department?”
“Yes. But if he interfered with anyone’s career, it likely had more to do with my black eye and cracked ribs than it did with the initial arrest.”
“Graham beat you up?”
“Not personally, no. Two thugs jumped me in the holding cell, and I’d be willing to bet Graham was behind the attack. I think he wanted to teach me a lesson. Maybe he still does. The point is, if he gets a look at those photographs, he’ll zero in on me to the exclusion of any other leads or suspects. If he goes to the bar and asks the righ
t questions, someone may remember that they saw me leave with the victim. I didn’t,” he added quickly. “But Brody is right. The power of suggestion is a real thing. That’s why eye-witness testimony can be so unreliable.”
Arden shook her head. “I had no idea all this was going on. No wonder you looked like death warmed over when I got here this morning.”
“Felt like it, too.”
She said hesitantly, “This is a long shot, but you don’t think your father could be behind this, do you? You said you were fired from Sutton & Associates. It must have been a serious falling-out if he also disowned you. Maybe this is his way of teaching you a lesson.”
“Boone Sutton is a lot of things, but he’s no murderer,” Reid said.
“Maybe that girl wasn’t supposed to die. Maybe Brody was just supposed to harass you so that you would be forced to return to the firm. But he took matters into his own hands because he has his own agenda.”
“It’s possible, of course, but I don’t see my father getting into bed with a guy like Dave Brody. Not with their history.”
“Their history is precisely why he would have thought of Brody in the first place. But leaving that aside, is there anyone else who would want to frame you? Do you have any other enemies that you know of?”
He scowled at the window as if he were deep in thought. “There may be someone,” he said slowly. “You’re not going to like hearing about it, though.”
“I take it you don’t mean Detective Graham.”
Reid’s gaze came back to hers. “Your grandfather was waiting for me when I came out of the courthouse earlier. He asked me to take a ride.”
“What?” Arden could hardly comprehend such a thing. “Clement Mayfair asked you to take a ride? Why? What did he want?”
“He warned me to stay away from you.”
“What?”
Reid nodded. “He thinks now that your grandmother is gone he can have a relationship with you. He doesn’t want me standing in the way.”
Killer Investigation Page 10