Rio didn’t miss the gibe. He’d refused to sit earlier, preferring to stay on his feet around the man who’d gotten into office only because of what Rio believed was a political attack on the former mayor that had removed her from office posthaste. The special election had worked in Mayor Charbonneau’s favor, too. Many people had questioned the election results, but after an intense investigation there’d been no evidence of wrongdoing with the election, so no charges had been filed. The only charges filed were against the former mayor, Amelia Donner, who was looking at three to five years in a white-collar holding facility if she lost her case. The case against her was being championed by an attorney directly tied to the former cult. Rio hoped the pressure SVPD was putting on the former cult members would reveal a way to clear Mayor Donner’s name.
“Cynthia, when did you come back in from law school?”
“Yesterday, before noon. It’s only a twenty minute drive from Carlisle. I’m in the Penn State law program at Dickinson College. I have an apartment there.”
“Do you have friends who were with you at school before you left?”
“Yes. We were studying for our finals in the library for the past few weeks, and we’ve started to prepare our study schedules for the bar. We’ll only have three months to study after graduation.”
“And you have contacts I may question about this?”
“Of course, but is that really necessary?”
“I’m conducting a murder investigation. Every question is necessary. Mayor, when did you see Cynthia last?”
Tony’s head drew back and his brows rose. “What, do you mean when she got home? I guess it was after work, wasn’t it, honey?”
“Yes, but you were late because you were answering police questions.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Cynthia, who was the first person to see you when you got back into town?”
“My stepmother, Gloria. She was in the shower when I came in, early yesterday morning. I stayed downstairs and made a pot of coffee, which we shared when she came downstairs a while later.”
“Did the housekeeper or your mother’s personal assistant see you?”
“Once they arrived for work, yes, but I got in very early.”
“I guess that’s student life—burning the candle at both ends. So you studied until late and then drove to Silver Valley early. You got up at what, four o’clock?”
“I’ve always been an early riser, Detective Ortega.” She’d sure been through law school. Quick on her feet, sure of herself. He didn’t begrudge her that but her alibi wasn’t sitting well with him. He revealed nothing to either her or her father.
“And, Mayor, approximately what time did you see Cynthia? Please be as specific as possible.”
“It would have had to been around six thirty or so, when I came home. Gloria was out at her spinning class at the gym. We ordered pizza and started in on a six-pack of Yuengling.” The mayor grinned. “We love to drink locally brewed beer wherever we live, and it’s our favorite. Our father-daughter thing.”
If Rio wasn’t a detective he’d be taken in by the happy-family shtick. He wouldn’t see the two very similar political animals in front of him. Tony was a hardened politician who’d been drummed out of New Jersey for his nefarious dealings in local politics, a point that had come up during the mayoral race two months ago. But accounts of his history hadn’t gained traction if his landslide victory was to be believed. Rio didn’t doubt for one instant that the election results had been tampered with, but he wasn’t an expert in such matters. He was looking for a murderer.
“Mayor, I need you to stay in town for the next few weeks. Cynthia, I’ll need to be able to contact you at any time. I know you have to go back to school before the wedding, and that’s fine, since you’re close enough in Carlisle.”
“You think you’ll have the murderer by then?” he asked.
“I have law school to finish! I can’t be disturbed when I’m studying.”
Both Charbonneaus spoke in rapid-fire sentences and Rio held up his hands. “Sorry, folks, it’s standard procedure during a murder investigation.”
“We’re not suspects. How can you ask us to stay?”
“You are both persons of interest. You, Mayor, because Meredith worked for you and you were the last person to see her alive, right here in this office.” He pointed at Cynthia. “Your timing for coming home from law school is questionable. You understand, it’s just protocol.”
Tony recovered a beat sooner than his daughter.
“We’re here to give you whatever you need, Detective. Meredith was a good worker, even if she had some personal problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“She was a little obsessive. Her record keeping, for instance—she kept asking me to purchase more computer servers for storage space. The last time I saw her I had to tell her to stop worrying about making copies of everything and just do her job as my assistant.”
“My dad means that he thought she might have some OCD,” Cynthia said, and Rio thought it was a good effort at trying to cover for her father’s slip. One thing Rio knew about criminals was that they often overcompensated for their guilt. Tony had no reason to tell him about Meredith’s mental issue unless he was trying to deflect Rio’s attention.
“OCD?”
“Obsessive-compulsive disorder. It makes sense as she was so incredibly organized. I wish I had a little of that myself.” Cynthia’s quick laugh was hollow and completely inappropriate, Rio thought.
“Are you saying that Meredith’s mental state might have brought about her murder?”
“No, not at all.”
“Of course not!”
Again, father and daughter spoke over one another.
“That’s good to hear, because for a minute it sounded to me as if you were discounting the brutal, vicious way Meredith was murdered.”
He felt the anger of two intelligent people boring into him. Nothing he hadn’t experienced before, but what he hadn’t felt in quite a while, not since he’d taken down a drug ring three years ago, was the sense of pure hatred he felt from the mayor and his daughter. As if Rio was the enemy.
Interesting.
CHAPTER 7
Kayla was happy to be able to drive with the windows down. The unseasonably warm air swept through the van’s front seat. She’d texted Rio to let him know she was going to her appointment with Gloria, since she’d promised to keep him informed of her contact with the Charbonneaus.
What she wasn’t going to tell him was that she was planning to do some investigating of her own. When Keith was charged with negligence, she’d learned to hold her suspicious thoughts and hunches close while she acted on them. And it was always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Keith had found his calling as a firefighter and risen to the top of his game when he’d been promoted to chief years ahead of his contemporaries. He’d helped get an aging firefighting squad in shape and provided Silver Valley with one of the best teams in the state. That was why the blow dealt to his career last Christmas still had him, and all of SVFD, reeling. He’d been blamed for the fire that had been started by a psychopathic killer, all because his crew hadn’t found the accelerant before the Christmas service. Kayla was shocked when he told her he was being investigated for other crimes he hadn’t committed, including not getting the churchgoers out of the burning building fast enough.
Someone wanted Keith out of SVFD. The more she thought about it, the more she suspected that maybe the same person or persons wanted to dismantle SVFD entirely. Not unlike what had happened to Mayor Donner. It certainly seemed that someone was trying to tear apart the solid community Silver Valley had been only six months ago.
As she pulled to a stop at a light in the center of downtown Silver Valley, she took
a moment to take in the budding trees. The forsythia had already burst forth and the lilac trees were almost in full bloom. Silver Valley had such a small-town feel, but the population of over twenty thousand afforded it all the conveniences of a sprawling suburban community. Without the traffic and, usually, without the kind of crime she’d stumbled upon last night.
Kayla turned the van onto a stately street lined with houses that dated back three centuries. The Charbonneaus lived in a well-preserved Victorian home. The outside was painted hunter green and the gingerbread trim was creamy yellow with gilt highlights. She wondered if Gloria would prefer living in one of the many upscale developments in the more suburban parts of Silver Valley, with their McMansion-style decor. Something closer to her and the mayor’s showy taste.
The mayor of Silver Valley needed to reside in the historical town proper, however, so the Charbonneaus had purchased the Victorian a month before he was elected to office. A bold move considering the election had been expected to go to a younger politician who was well-known in town for her athletic accomplishments, first at Silver Valley High and then at Georgetown University in Washington. Now retired from women’s basketball and returned to her hometown, Poppy Hopper had been a shoe-in.
Until Anthony Charbonneau showed up.
Parallel parking in between two Priuses wasn’t easy, but Kayla did it, since there were no driveways in Silver Valley’s historical district. The fuel-efficient cars were as ubiquitous as the Bradford pear trees that dominated much of the local landscape.
The home’s front porch was wide and welcoming, and a hand-painted sign declared Mayor and Gloria Charbonneau resided there. Kayla rolled her eyes at a tiny chipmunk that was busy studying her from one of the potted tulips she’d delivered last week. He twitched his whiskers and darted out of sight. It reminded her that she needed to tend to the flower beds in her own garden, but it would have to wait. With everything she had scheduled, the chipmunks would probably eat all her bulbs by the time she had a chance to put her fingers in the soil again.
The door opened as Kayla lifted her hand. Only then did she notice the unobtrusive security camera set in the middle of the door knocker.
“You must be Kayla. Gloria is in the dining room. Let me show you back.”
“Thank you.” Kayla smiled. “And you are?”
“I’m Sylvia, Gloria’s personal assistant.”
“Nice to meet you in person.” They’d spoken on the phone when Sylvia placed the orders for official functions, as well as for the house. Jenny handled most of the weekday deliveries.
Kayla noted that Gloria’s weekly arrangement sat on a pedestal table on the right side of the hallway, where every visitor would see the fresh flowers. She hoped many asked Gloria where she’d purchased them.
“Kayla, please, have a seat.” Gloria sat on one side of the huge maple wood table, motioning for Kayla to take the seat opposite. The table appeared to be set for formal tea, with the china clearly matching the period of the house.
“This is beautiful.” Kayla felt a little out of place in her usual work outfit—black leggings and a V-neck purple pullover with her shop logo embroidered over the left breast. At least she’d taken the time to run her fingers through her pixie cut.
“Yes, we’ve taken measures to keep everything as authentic as possible. It’s so important to preserve Silver Valley’s history.”
Kayla smiled in an attempt to appear sociable. While she adored flowers and natural beauty, Kayla was more interested in a person’s character than outward appearances. Gloria’s passion appeared to be outward appearances, not unusual for a politician’s wife.
“Please, dig in and enjoy your meal while I outline my plans for Cynthia’s ceremony.”
Kayla took a generous swig of the iced tea from a crystal glass and settled into her meal as best she could while Gloria went through list after list of the flowers she’d need for each room of the house. Her note cards were embossed with her name in gold ink and she used a fountain pen that probably cost more than Kayla’s Blooms made in six months.
“We’ll need everything fresh, crisp and with no signs of wilting anywhere.”
“Of course. That’s what I do.” Kayla smoothed the pale blush napkin on her lap. “I’ll make up all the arrangements as close to the ceremony as possible. We will need to get the gazebo done the evening before.”
“But what if we have a very hot night? Or if we get a late freeze?” Gloria’s Botoxed forehead allowed just enough expression for Kayla to make out her genuine concern.
“I’ll worry about that. If it was still this coming Saturday, we’d have more to worry about, but the weather report looks okay temperature-wise. They used to say we’d be free of frost worries any time after Mother’s Day, but the past ten years have been milder.”
Mother’s Day was the hallmark date used by gardeners in the central Pennsylvania region to mark the full arrival of spring.
“We had an awful winter and I read that the ground is having a hard time warming up. Don’t you think we should wait until the morning of to put out the garden arrangements?” Unlike anyone else in Silver Valley, Gloria used the European term garden for backyard. Kayla had to keep from smiling.
“Let’s not worry about that today. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to make the day perfect for you.” Thank God she only had to worry about flowers and not the cake or wedding dress.
“Oh, and I’d like you to coordinate with the baker so that the cake has similar flowers.”
“No problem.”
“I’m using the best bakery in Harrisburg. You’ll need to go out there, since Veronique is too busy to come to Silver Valley.”
Kayla was grateful for the tuna salad in her mouth so that she didn’t have to bite her lip until she sprayed blood on Gloria’s fine linens. She’d had to work with Veronique Bleu twice before and both times had been a challenge. Veronique had grown up in the Harrisburg area as Veronica Bluestone, but after graduating from the Le Cordon Bleu she came back to the area a born-again Francophile. Her baked goods were phenomenal and until Kayla had met the difficult woman behind the concoctions she’d treated herself to one of the bakery’s éclairs on special occasions.
“I know Veronique. We’ve worked together before.”
“Really? She didn’t mention it, but then, she is very busy. Her cakes are sent all over the world.”
Yes, Kayla knew this, too. No matter. It was her job to work with the baker and so she would.
Gloria’s assistant appeared in the dining room.
“Gloria, you have a call in your office.”
Gloria looked at her assistant and Kayla watched an emotion she never associated with her play across her face. Fear.
“Please excuse me. I’ll have the tea and dessert brought out.”
Kayla nodded, wondering where she’d put any more food after the rich lunch. As soon as Sylvia and Gloria were out of sight, Kayla quietly pushed back from the table and went out in to the hallway. Voices drifted through two closed antique doors as old as the house.
“I told you to tell him I’m in a meeting.”
“I’m sorry but he insisted he had to speak to you.”
“Stay here. I want a witness.”
A witness?
“Hello, Tony.”
“Gloria. You didn’t put me on speakerphone, did you?” She recognized the mayor’s voice as Gloria must have indeed put the call on speakerphone.
“I did, but only because I’m in the middle of sorting files. Don’t worry, I’m alone in my office. Sylvia is keeping the florist busy in the dining room. How are you, darling?”
Why was she lying to her husband?
“Up to my ass in alligators. It’s a pain in the neck, this job. We should have kept our focus on the big race and not taken this detour. And now we have to find
me a new assistant. Have you gotten anywhere on that this morning?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Remember what I said. Don’t let Cynthia’s wedding planning take precedence over this, Gloria. We need a new assistant and I can’t be the one looking for her. It wouldn’t be smart, not this soon.”
“The wedding will take care of itself, darling. Cynthia is a simple girl who doesn’t want a big fuss. For your assistant, I was thinking of a man this time, Tony.”
If this was a “simple” wedding Kayla did not want to know what kind of wedding Gloria considered lavish. There was a long pause and Kayla wondered if Gloria had turned off the speaker.
“Whatever, Gloria. I need someone eager enough to be willing to do what we need without being too nosy or concerned about all my personal projects.”
What kind of projects?
“I know that, Tony. I’m only looking out for you, sweetheart.”
“You always do. And thanks for the bag of burner phones. You’re always a step ahead of me.”
“I didn’t expect we’d need them this soon, but I’m glad you have them.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will be looking at me since Meredith was out there on my dime, but there’s no connection.”
“No, honey, of course there’s not. But you don’t need the added stress of an investigation right now.”
“The florist, did you get a chance to talk to her?”
“I did one better. She’s going to work with us on Cynthia’s wedding here.”
“Is that a good idea? Maybe you should hire someone else.”
“She never got out there last night. Doesn’t know a thing about it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I know how to keep my enemies close, Tony.”
Kayla felt a single drop of perspiration make its way from the nape of her neck to the small of her back as she stood stock-still on the hall carpet. Just how close did she want to be to these people?
Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set Page 73