“I don’t have to believe anything of the kind. If you really love me, then fire her.”
He looked like he’d just been told that his dog died. “Kate. I can’t do that.”
“Of course not! I guess your proclamation of love is just empty words.”
“This isn’t you. You’re not an unfair person. How can you ask me to fire her when she’s doing a good job? When if it weren’t for her father, I probably would have never even gone to college and had a career? I can cut her off personally, but I won’t fire her.”
“Then we have nothing else to talk about. I’ll expect you out by the end of the day.”
His voice rose now. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re out of danger.”
She would call her attorney and see if there was a way to make him leave. “I’m just going to sit here, then. So if you want to get any work done, you’d better go to your real office.” She wanted him out of the house while she talked to Anderson.
He stood up, grabbed his briefcase, and threw some papers in. “Fine. But I’ll be back tonight.”
She left the room and went back to the kitchen to check on Annabelle.
“Annabelle wants to go and see the horses,” Hilda told her.
“All right,” Kate said. “Just make sure you take a guard with you.”
She heard the garage door opening. Simon was leaving—good. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled out a sheet of paper. She needed to write everything down for Anderson. Sabrina could have sent the flowers to Selby’s if Simon told her they would be there.
A noise made her look up. Blaire had come in.
“Hey, you. How’re you doing?”
Kate put the pen down. “I’m nervous. Simon was just talking to her on the phone. I’ve been thinking. What if Simon is the one that snuck that picture into Annabelle’s coloring book? He’s an architect, he can draw. For that matter, Sabrina can too.”
“I guess that’s possible.”
“I told him to move out, but he refused. I did get him to at least go to his office today.”
Blaire poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table. “So he’ll be here for Annabelle’s party tomorrow night.”
“Yeah. I can’t keep him from that, but I’m going to talk to my lawyer and see what I can do to get him to move out of the house. I called Anderson. He’s on his way over now.”
“I think you’re on the right track,” Blaire said.
“And you know what else? I think Mother must have said something to Simon after all. Maybe it was Sabrina who went to Mother’s. Maybe she’s the one who pushed her and killed her and then called Simon, and now they’re lying to cover their tracks.” She looked at Blaire in horror. “Now they’re after me.”
Blaire was looking at her intently, nodding slowly. “Your father told me that Lily mentioned the trouble with Sabrina. So it was definitely on her mind. Let’s see what Anderson says.”
The door chimed. “That must be him,” Kate stood.
When Anderson walked into the kitchen, he looked surprised to see Blaire there. He nodded. “Dr. English, Ms. Barrington.”
“Can I get you anything?” Kate asked.
“No, thank you.” He took a seat across from Kate.
“I’m worried about having Simon in the house.”
“Okay, we’ll talk about that. But first I have some questions that are quite personal. Perhaps Ms. Barrington could leave us alone for a few minutes?”
Blaire stood up before Kate could answer. “Of course. I’ll be in the study.”
After she’d gone, Kate looked at the detective. “What is it?”
He sighed. “I need to ask you about the car accident when your fiancé died. That summer you were in therapy—intense therapy, apparently.”
Kate’s face was hot. She didn’t want to talk about the accident. And how did he know she’d been in therapy? Her medical records were private. “What does that have to do with anything? And how did you even know about that?”
“Actually, when we questioned Ms. Mitchell, she told us.”
Sabrina? Simon had to have told her . . . “How did she know? When did she tell you this?”
He studied her face a moment and then continued. “Your husband is her alibi and she’s his for that night. They claim they were both working late. I called her back in for questioning yesterday, and she continues to insist she was working late that night with your husband. She mentioned that your husband was getting worried about your behavior, that it’s been erratic and that he’s concerned you might be having another nervous breakdown.”
They were trying to make her look crazy to Anderson. But why? So he would dismiss her suspicions? She looked at Anderson. “First of all, I never had a ‘nervous breakdown.’ ” She put the word in air quotes. “Not that it’s at all relevant now, but I went through a tragedy. I saw a therapist that summer for trauma related to the accident. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve dealt with anxiety most of my life, but I handle it—just like millions of other people. I am not delusional.” She was up now, pacing.
Anderson said nothing; he watched and waited.
“Don’t you see? The fact that she even knows about that summer, that the two of them are discussing my mental health, is completely inappropriate. What other proof do you need that they’re plotting against me?”
“Dr. English, I’m not suggesting that you’re crazy or delusional. And I agree that such discussions between your husband and Ms. Mitchell are inappropriate. But you need to try and remain calm.”
“How am I supposed to stay calm when the killer could be living in my house?”
“I understand your concern, but I have no authority to make him leave your house. However, might I suggest you ask your father to come and stay with you for now? That might make you feel safer.”
“I’m still upset with him. He hasn’t told me what he and Mother fought about that day.”
Anderson appraised her before answering. “We’ve cleared him. We have CCTV footage of his car leaving the hospital after she’d already been killed. And hospital staff can account for his whereabouts all evening before he left. Dr. Singer was on vacation when we first questioned the hospital staff and he’s now confirmed that he was with your father during the two hours we couldn’t account for his whereabouts. There was no way he was home when your mother was killed.”
A wave of relief flooded her. Of course her father had nothing to do with her mother’s murder. How could she have even entertained the thought for a minute? She would call him after Anderson left and ask him to come stay. Blaire had offered to stay with her for the next few days as well. Simon wouldn’t try anything with both of them around. And she’d make sure the guard stayed outside her room, and that Annabelle was safely inside with her at night.
“I also wanted to let you know that we got some information back from the florist. Not surprisingly, a prepaid Visa card was used to purchase the roses. We’ve narrowed down the batch and will be trying to determine where it was purchased.”
That was something, Kate thought.
Anderson stood. “Please take care of yourself. We’ll be watching Ms. Mitchell, and I’ll let you know as soon as we have any more information on that credit card.”
“Thank you.”
He left, and Kate went to the study to talk to Blaire. When she opened the door, she saw her sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, typing on her laptop.
“Am I interrupting? “Kate asked.
Blaire looked up. “It’s a welcome interruption. I’m stuck on this chapter. What did Anderson want?”
Kate walked over and started pacing again.
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“What?”
“Sabrina told Anderson about the accident and my seeing a therapist that summer. She said that Simon is concerned about my emotional stability.”
Blaire’s mouth dropped open. “Sabrina? How did she know?”
“How e
lse? Simon told her.”
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22
Blaire was due to meet Carter at the Prime Rib restaurant downtown at eight, so she made a hasty retreat after Detective Anderson left. She hadn’t told Kate she was meeting Carter, because she didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. The truth was, Blaire didn’t have any lingering interest in Carter’s few remaining masculine charms, only in whatever knowledge he was willing to share about his and Simon’s business interests. It seemed like Kate was finally opening her eyes to Simon’s treachery.
Back at her suite at the Four Seasons, Blaire opened the closet and pulled out the outfit she’d bought especially for tonight. After slipping into the slinky green dress—green had always been Carter’s favorite color—she spritzed on some Clive Christian perfume and changed into the Miu Miu jeweled pumps that perfectly showcased her shapely long legs. On her lips, Cherry Lush by Tom Ford. She would be the complete opposite of his tamped-down, boring wife.
As she entered the restaurant and looked around at the old familiar haunt, she was glad she had suggested they meet here. It had a sensual feel, with its shiny black bar and soft gold lighting. She saw Carter waiting at the bar and gave him a warm smile as she walked toward him. His face lit up as he stood, his gaze traveling the length of her body. She gave him a hug and let her lips linger on his cheek just a moment longer than necessary, pleased to see the flush on his face when she pulled away.
“You look sensational! I’m so glad you called,” he said as they took their seats on the black leather bar stools. “What are you drinking?”
She leaned back and crossed her legs, not missing the fact his eyes kept returning to them. “Bowmore. Neat. A double,” she finally said, knowing he was a Scotch man, and he flagged the bartender over and ordered two. Good. She needed to loosen him up, and she knew he’d make himself keep pace with her.
She raised her glass to his. “To old friends.” She paused. “And old lovers.”
He clinked her glass and took a swallow. He was practically drooling. “I can hardly believe I’m sitting here next to you. You don’t know how often I’ve thought about you over the years.” He leaned closer to her. “I dream about you sometimes, you know.”
He was making her sick with his hungry fawning, but she pretended to be flattered. “Really? I’ve wondered over the years if you still think about me.”
He warmed to the subject. “More than you know. Have you thought about me?”
Only how you screwed me over and what a pompous ass you are, she wanted to say. “Of course,” she replied instead.
He took another sip. “At my house the other night, you made it sound like you were pretty in love with your husband.”
She tilted her head and gave him a flirty smile. “That’s true, I am. I love my husband, but no one can really hold a candle to your first. You know?” She had to force out the words, almost choking on them.
His eyes widened. “I didn’t realize. Oh, Blaire. If I’d known.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you get in touch all this time?”
As if it would have changed things? She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. We both have our own lives. But that doesn’t mean we can’t recapture a little of the old magic, right?” She took a long swig from her glass and watched as he did the same. “You have a nice life. Kids. Your own company. You really seem to have it all.”
He beamed. “I guess it looks like that.” His hand moved to her right thigh, and he ran it up and down. “But I don’t have everything I want.” He gave her a knowing look.
She gamely put her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. If enduring this could lead her to Lily’s killer, then, well . . . it would all be worth it. “Well, who says you can’t?” She moved toward him and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She pulled away. “Maybe we should save that for later. We’re in public, after all. My hotel isn’t far from here.”
He was staring at her, his eyes glazed, and she controlled the urge to slap him across the face. Breathe, she thought. Picking up her glass, she held it up again. “To later,” and downed it all.
Carter followed suit. “I’m going to see if our table’s ready. The sooner we eat, the sooner we can leave.” He gave her a wink.
“Why don’t we just have dinner here at the bar? It’s so cozy.”
“Great idea.”
They ordered. A steak for her, and shrimp scampi for him. While they waited, she asked for two more drinks.
“I’ll bet you’re the one with all the great ideas at your firm,” she ventured. “Simon doesn’t strike me as all that brilliant.”
Carter straightened his shoulders and gave her a slight nod. “Well, I guess I do come up with a lot of the creative ideas and new business contacts. But don’t get me wrong,” he rushed on, “Simon’s a pretty good architect too.”
She uncrossed and crossed her legs again. “But you’re the real star, aren’t you? Admit it, Carter. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“Well—” He smiled and bowed his head for a moment, then looked up at her. “I guess you could say that.”
Right. As much as she disliked Simon, she knew all too well how charming and winning he could be. And he was smart. She couldn’t take that away from him. She would bet that Simon was the anchor around which the firm revolved, and the one the clients wanted to deal with. “I’m thinking you’re probably the one who keeps an eye on the money too.”
He gulped down the rest of his drink and sighed. “When there is money to keep an eye on. We lost a big job a few weeks ago. A longtime client.”
“What happened?” she asked.
Before he could answer, the bartender was back with their food. “Will there be anything else?” he asked politely.
“Thank you, we’re fine,” Blaire said, turning back to Carter. “So . . . what was the story?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. One of Simon’s accounts. But we need to make up for it, or we’re going to have to put in more of our own money. A lot more.”
“I see.” She watched as he put a shrimp in his mouth. A trickle of butter ran down his chin, and she reflected again how very different he was from suave and sophisticated Daniel.
It was more of the same over the next half hour. They were losing money, and somehow he and Simon were going to have to come up with a considerable amount of cash to save the company. But Blaire wanted to have the full picture of the noxious mixture of ingredients that could make Simon a killer.
“What about that new hire? Sabrina, I think her name is?”
Carter stopped eating, his fork poised in midair. “Simon hired her. The last thing we needed was another architect on the payroll. But I have to admit, she’s got a way with the clients.”
Blaire was certain that Carter enjoyed ogling her as much as the clients did.
He shook his head. “In fact, I took Simon to task over the fact that he left her behind when he met with a potential client in New York. She was the one who’d reeled them in for the meeting. We’d probably have gotten the job if she’d went.”
If she’d gone, Blaire wanted to say. So much for his expensive prep school education. She looked at him with curiosity. “Why didn’t she?”
Carter threw his hands up. “Not exactly sure. But it was after he got a call from Lily.”
Blaire’s ears perked up. “Go on.”
“I was in his office when his assistant patched the call through. Simon seemed a little surprised. After a few minutes, his face turned red, and he waved me out. Next thing I knew, he was telling Sabrina she had to stay behind.”
“Hmm. So you think Lily said something about Sabrina to him?”
“Must have. You know you women and your jealousies. Maybe she was looking out for Kate, if Kate was feeling jealous. Although I think it’s a bit inappropriate for her to interfere. Not to speak
ill of the dead,” he was quick to add.
Blaire wondered if Carter knew more about Sabrina and Simon than he was letting on. She took a deep breath and put her hand on his leg. “I’m a little jealous, too. Thinking of you working side by side with such a gorgeous woman. How do I know something isn’t going on between you and Sabrina?”
He put a pudgy hand on hers and tried to slide her hand farther up his leg. She didn’t resist, curious to see how far he intended to push things. He stopped at the very top of his thigh.
“You have nothing to be jealous of,” he leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “Sabrina can’t hold a candle to you.”
She needed to get this back on course. “I’m happy to hear that. What about Simon, though? Do you think he’s really getting a little extra on the side?” She cocked an eyebrow to make him think she was being playful.
“I honestly don’t know. He could if he wanted to—it’s clear to everyone at the office that she’s got the hots for him. But he’s a pretty discreet guy.”
“No guy talk?”
“Nope. But I wouldn’t blame him.”
What a revolting pig. She pulled her hand off his thigh.
“How about a nightcap at your place?” he said, licking his lips.
“Gee, Carter. I’ve got this awful headache, all of a sudden. Can we just pay the bill and do that another time? I’ll split it with you.”
His whole body seemed to droop. “Sure. Another time.” He picked up the leather check holder, looking crestfallen. “This is mine. I insist.”
“Thank you, Carter. Next time it’s on me.”
But there wouldn’t be a next time. Thank God.
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The Last Time I Saw You Page 19