Notorious

by Allison Brennan

  “It’s just a small nonprofit.”

  “Small? It paid for this condo. And nearly one hundred thousand dollars of annual income to Ms. Parker over the last two years.”

  “Where are you getting your information?”

  He was edgy, bouncing on his feet, and belligerent.

  “DLE also has the title on Ms. Parker’s car.” Max took a leap. “I can’t help but think she was attacked because she had planned to meet me. Do you know what she wanted to tell me? Do you know why someone would want to kill her?”

  “I haven’t talked to Dru in months. Now leave.”

  “Months? Then why would her roommate have suggested she was spending the weekend with you?”

  “Get the fuck off my property or I’m calling the cops.”

  That would be interesting. “Do you own a black sedan?”

  His face was red. He couldn’t speak. He pulled out his cell phone.

  She doubted he’d call the cops, because she had a lot to tell them if he did. But she walked back to her car and drove down the street. She stopped at the end of the block and waited.

  She didn’t have to wait long. A motorcycle with a rider in a red jacket identical to the one J. C. had been wearing flew past her.

  She quickly wrote down the license plate while she followed the bike.

  He didn’t go far. Four miles up the road, in Burlingame, he turned off El Camino Real and wound through a neighborhood until he was at the top of a hill. Another nice neighborhood, though not as pricey as the Crystal Springs area where J. C. lived. He parked in the driveway and strode up to the door. A woman answered and he started shouting at her, then the door closed and Max couldn’t see or hear him.

  She ran a title search. The house was owned by Rebecca Cross, and had been for the past three years. No husband on the title. A Google search told Max that Ms. Cross was an instructor at Cañada College.

  The circle was complete. Cross was a professor at Cañada and Dru was a student. J. C. Potrero—whether he was her boyfriend or employer or something else—knew both of them. And he certainly hadn’t been overjoyed with Max’s interest in DLE or the attack on Dru. Now Max had to figure out what DLE really did, and how Jason Hoffman’s murder figured into the scam.

  Maybe Jason found out about DLE and confronted his friend Dru. She tells him what’s going on, he tries to help her get out of it, and gets shot.

  From everything Max had learned about Jason, he was a helper. He helped his family, he helped his friends, he was generous with his time and money. It would fit his profile that he would help Dru. Except it wouldn’t be why Dru wanted to meet with her. Unless she felt that Max was getting too close and guilt made her want to come clean. It had happened to Max several times in the course of a cold case investigation—guilt motivated a witness to come forward.

  But when Max talked to her, Dru didn’t seem like the type of person who could lie so smoothly about a friend’s murder. More likely, she didn’t make the connection until Max asked questions and had her thinking.

  Except … Dru hadn’t called Max until after Nick Santini came to question her again. Had his questions prompted a recollection?

  Max parked down the street and walked to the house. J. C.’s motorcycle was still there. She walked along the side to peer into the garage. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the garage, she saw a black BMW. The rear driver’s side was damaged.

  Bingo.

  She jogged back to her car and called Nick.

  “I found the car that nearly hit me last night.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “Are you there? Nick?”

  “Where are you?”

  She told him, then explained what she’d learned through Dru’s banking statements, how she tracked down her boyfriend, and then followed him to Rebecca Cross’s house.

  “Maybe you should have been a cop, not a reporter.”

  “Um, you wouldn’t have been able to get the information the way I did.”

  “I need a plausible reason to get a warrant.”

  “I gave Gorman a description of the car.”

  “Color and general size. Black is rather common.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Detective. You have Dru’s phone. You grabbed J. C.’s name off her Facebook profile. Her roommate confirmed they were dating, at least had been dating recently. You tracked him to Rebecca Cross—followed him like I did. Now you have questions.” He didn’t say anything. “Or I can simply go in and interview them for an article I’m writing.”

  “No,” he snapped. “I’m on it, do not do anything, Maxine. Promise me.”

  “Define what you mean by ‘anything.’”

  He abruptly ended the call.

  Max was confident that Nick Santini would take care of this. And if not, she knew where Rebecca Cross lived and she would be back to talk to her.

  Besides, she had another errand. Jasper Pierce had returned her call. His voice mail said he would love to meet for drinks—or dinner—at seven that evening. He suggested Evvia, a Greek restaurant Max had been dying to try.

  She had just enough time to shower and change.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jasper Pierce was everything a wealthy entrepreneur should be—attractive, well dressed, charming, and a flirt. His short sandy blond hair reminded her a bit of Daniel Craig, until she approached and she noted that he was well over six feet. The restaurant was warm and hospitable with a large hearth fireplace and the wonderful, rich smells of Hellenic cuisine. Max’s mouth practically watered. Though the place was crowded, Jasper had procured a large, round corner table near the front that could have comfortably sat four. Other two-person parties were at much smaller tables.

  He took her extended hand in both of his. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Ms. Revere.”

  “Thank you.” He pulled out her chair for her. “I have wanted to eat here since they opened,” she said, “but I’m rarely in town. Call me Max.”

  “I’ve been friends with Jackson Sterling since high school. He speaks highly of you.”

  Max laughed. “He’s probably the only one in my family who would.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.” He gestured to the wine. “I ordered a Rapsani red, one of my favorites. The grapes are grown at the foot of Mount Olympus. But I can also recommend a white, if you prefer.”

  “I’ll trust your judgment.”

  He smiled and poured the wine. She sipped. It tasted like it had been cultivated for Zeus himself.

  They chatted about mutual friends and ate a full meal—the owner obviously knew Jasper and kept bringing out plates for them to share. Max didn’t remember ordering anything, but felt like she sampled half the menu.

  They were on their second bottle of wine when Max said, “You’ve been very hospitable, and I almost feel guilty that I need to ask you some questions.”

  Jasper smiled. “Almost guilty?”

  “It is my job.”

  “I’m all yours.” He leaned back and smiled. Definitely turning on all the charm.

  “Did you hear about Dru Parker?”

  “Yes. The receptionist. She’s been with Evergreen since she was a senior in high school. Works hard, has poor taste in boyfriends but a strong work ethic, and that’s really all I care about. Jason was friends with her. I thought they might have dated now and again, but I can’t be sure.”

  “She planned to meet with me the night she was attacked. I am certain she knows something about Jason’s murder, even if she doesn’t realize she knows something. She’s still in recovery at the hospital, but I’m hoping she’ll be up to talking tomorrow.”

  “Why do you think she knows anything?”

  “She said something strange had been going on at the Atherton Prep construction site the week Jason was killed. Jason was preoccupied about holes in the trees. Do you know what that means?”

  “Possibly. Jason said someone was digging on the site, and he was worried that there was a
n environmental issue that would impact our ability to get the final building approval and break ground on time. I assured him that all the EIRs had been filed, that there was nothing to worry about. And when I went out to the site, I realized he was concerned about the grove of redwoods on the west side of the property—more than a hundred yards from our construction perimeter. I didn’t pay much attention after that—haven’t even thought about it until you brought it up.”

  “You were close to Jason.”

  “Yes. Gordon Cho and I have been friends since we were kids. His parents sent him to Bellarmine, not ACP, and we lost touch then and during college, but we both settled back here and I’m his daughter’s godfather. I knew Jason had a gift, he was very talented, and I hooked him up with Gordon to intern as soon as he was in high school. He would have made a wonderful architect. It’s truly a great loss that he’s gone.”

  “The Robeauxs—Brian and Sara—come from modest means and, honestly, you come from money. You weren’t raised in the same town, didn’t go to the same schools, and they’re older than you. How did you become a partner in Evergreen?”

  “You’ve done your research.”

  “That’s a comment that usually means you don’t want to answer my question.”

  He sipped his wine. “Hardly. I hired Evergreen ten years ago on one of my first buildings—it was a renovation project, and Brian underbid. I was skeptical that he could get it done at cost, but I liked his no-nonsense attitude. He did an amazing job, and after the fact I learned he hardly made any money on the project. He’s not a money guy. I made a proposition that I’d be a silent partner and help with his financing and bids—I know how businesspeople think, I know the market. The problem was that Brian, though gruff on the outside, has a soft streak. The economy really hit him harder than most. So I approached Jackson about putting together the funding for the new sports complex, and he hooked me up with his grandfather, Archer, and the rest is history.”

  “And the no-bid project?”

  “Evergreen was cut a break. It happens all the time. Brian didn’t know until after the fact—Jason and I kept it from him. If he thought it was competitive, he would have completely undercut the project and Evergreen would have completed it, and Brian would never earn a dime. I have an interest in the company, but it’s small compared to my other businesses. ACP is getting a fabulous project and a very good deal. You know how it is—business is about who you know.”

  “How did Brian feel when he realized you and Jason had gone behind his back in bidding on the ACP project?”

  Jasper stared at her. “How do you know about that?”

  “Confidential sources,” she replied.

  He assessed her before answering. “Brian was upset at first, but I convinced him it was best for the company. Jason had graduated from college with a degree in architectural design and a minor in environmental impact, he had experience with Gordon Cho, one of the most respected design firms in the country, and, to be blunt, me. I couldn’t continue to funnel money into Evergreen if Brian was going to turn down clients because he didn’t like their politics or because he didn’t like how they talked to him. Jason had a personality that made everyone like and trust him. I really liked the kid—I hope to someday have a son just like him.”

  He had an odd look in his expression as he looked at the candle flickering on the table. Forty, single, lamenting the lack of a prodigy. Max’s urge to fall into bed with him for a brief fling went from hot to cold in a snap.

  She asked, “Could Brian have killed him?”

  “Why?”

  “You didn’t say he wasn’t capable.”

  “Anyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances,” Jasper said. He poured the rest of the wine into both of their glasses. Max stopped him before he finished with hers. Jasper sipped, then said, “Brian didn’t kill Jason. I would stake my reputation on it. He loved Jason like a son. Jess and Jason were like his own children. He’s truly only a nice guy around them, and Sara. He’s angry and bitter about the economy and his struggling business, but he works harder than anyone I know. Physically hard labor that he’s not up to anymore, but he does it anyway. He can be judgmental and rigid, but when it came to Sara and her kids, he was kind and even flexible. Honestly, if I didn’t admire his work ethic and job quality, I would never have put up with Brian all these years. But I understand him now, after working with him for so long. He had the patience of a saint teaching Jason the tools of the trade. If Brian had killed him, it would have been an accident, heat of the moment, and he would have confessed immediately. He’d never forgive himself. I just don’t think he could do it. Not that he couldn’t kill, but he couldn’t kill Jason.”

  Jasper’s assessment had a ring of truth. More, he had an insight into people that Max appreciated.

  “So, are you done?” His eyebrow arched, making him appear even more charming and handsome.

  “I’m certain Detective Santini asked you all the standard questions—did Jason have any enemies, was he worried about anything specific or vague, how was his relationship with the employees, et cetera.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Anything come to you now, five months later, that you didn’t think about then? Particularly in reference to the trees that Jason was obsessed about.”

  “I wouldn’t say obsessed.”

  “Dru Parker thought she was dying—and she’s still not out of the woods—and the last thing she said to me before she lost consciousness was about how Jason thought there was something odd about holes in the trees. Maybe that’s why he was there late Saturday night.”

  “Maybe we should go look at them.”

  “Can you show me what he was looking at specifically?”

  Jasper nodded. “He took me out there but I didn’t see anything that caused me to be suspicious. Someone had been digging around, but it didn’t look like a big deal. A few holes in the dirt under the redwood trees. He asked me to talk to the school and find out if they had a science class or someone working on a school project. I asked; they said no. They’d banned students from that side of the campus because of the pending construction. We’d already put the fences up.”

  Max wanted to do it first thing in the morning, but she needed to talk to Dru first. “I don’t know what my plans are tomorrow, but the morning is shot,” she said.

  “Tuesday I’ll be at the site meeting with alumni who are planning to invest in the interior of the sports complex. I’ll be done with them around noon.”

  “I’ll be there. I appreciate it.” Maybe she could get Santini to meet her there—it was worth a few minutes of his time.

  “And then perhaps we could have another meal together.”

  His eyes were sparkling and Max smiled. Jasper was attractive, very smart, and educated, the type of man Max enjoyed spending time with. But most of the men she dated thought they could handle her independence and drive, but within weeks they were clingy and urging her to spend more time with them and less time with work. Which meant they’d never listened to her, let alone understood her. They paid lip service to her dreams and her career drive, all the while thinking that great sex would keep her chained to them. It’s why she maintained the long-distance relationship with Marco—no strings, great sex, and she would never in a million years move to Florida, and Marco would never leave. It was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

  Jasper was looking for a wife, it was clear as day. His wistful expression thinking about Jason as a sonlike figure, lamenting his own lack of a family. This was a man with an agenda, and Max needed to steer clear. He might say he was worldly and cherished her independence, but he wouldn’t remain that way for long. She pictured them in bed together, and all she could see were little sperms defeating all her birth control measures and invading her eggs.

  But she had to admit that she liked Jasper and found him to be both sincere and honest; rare qualities.

  “Maybe, but I’m trying to wrap things up so I can get back to New York.”


  “Wrap things up? Like what?”

  “Like finding out who killed Jason.”

  * * *

  It was well after ten by the time Max arrived back at her hotel and the desk clerk approached. “Ms. Revere? You have a guest waiting for you in the bar.”

  If it was Andy, she was going to ignore it.

  “Who?”

  “He didn’t give his name, but he was at your table yesterday.”

  “Blond or brunet?”

  “Brunet.”

  Nick. “Thank you,” she said and walked into the bar.

  He was sitting in the far corner with both a folder and a beer in front of him. She had no opportunity to sneak up on him—his eyes were on her as soon as she stepped into the bar.

  She asked the bartender for her favorite wine, and slid into the booth next to Nick. He closed the file he was reading. The tab referred to Jason Hoffman.

  “If I’d known you wanted to see me,” she said, “I would have rushed through dinner. Good news, I hope.”

  “Neither good nor bad,” he said. “But since you gave me the tip on Parker’s boyfriend, I thought I’d fill you in, at least as much as I’m able to.”

  “Is she awake?”

  “Not yet, but they expect her to be conscious tomorrow.”

  Max was relieved. “Good.”

  “I spoke with Potrero. He has an alibi for the time of the attack.”

  “Did you check it out?”

  He stared at her, his green eyes narrowed like a cat about to pounce.

  She smiled. “Of course you did.”

  “But he was definitely squirming when I spoke to him. I’m checking out his employer and I hope Parker is forthcoming tomorrow.”

  Max knew better than to ask if Nick could get a warrant for Dru’s house or Rebecca Cross’s car—Max’s statement wasn’t going to get him anything. He needed probable cause, which he might get if Dru told him whatever she had planned to tell Max before the attack.

  “I have a friend of mine digging around on DL Environmental.”

  “Maxine—”

  “Just trying to find out how much money they’re pulling in, what they’re doing. They could be totally legit, but paying for Dru’s car and Potrero’s condo—”