She rounded his desk. “I told Kincaid you were one of the good guys. You may be pigheaded and hardheaded, but you won’t be intimidated.”
Cruz had been a good cop, the kind who followed her instincts and she had excellent instincts. She read him right.
Brophy had always taken pride in the fact he never let anyone or anything get in the way of justice. An intensely private man, Brophy had only one objective: not letting anything interfere with his job.
She paused a moment before she continued. “Kincaid received a tip about an inmate down in South Carolina. A Harrison Taylor. The tip said that he had been framed. It caught Kincaid’s eye because Harrison Taylor was Jack Ashcroft’s last client before he killed himself. Kincaid asked me to look into it to see if it had any merit.”
“It must have.”
“I ran the IP address of the tip back to Helen Barlow’s house, Florence Ashcroft’s former personal assistant. Red flags went up.”
Brophy waved his hand in front of his face, gesturing for her to stop. There was no need to go any further, not with finding two of the Ashcrofts on Barlow’s doorstep with the lady bludgeoned to death inside.
Experience had taught him not to put blinders on in an investigation. He still had to check out Barlow’s son’s questionable past and the rumors the man owed money to the Russians, but the Ashcrofts’ connection certainly came front and center.
Hell, he hadn’t a clue what the connection meant, but he would press the matter. If there was something there, no doubt, he’d soon find out what it was.
* * * *
Riley sat in the grand walnut-paneled library of her family’s Boston townhouse, a beautiful home by all accounts. Nestled in a lovely neighborhood of beautifully restored redbrick buildings, the twenty-million-dollar Boston brownstone was the epitome of what wealth and status brought.
The house had been renovated ten years previous, modernized, but the essence of its character remained, preserving its original splendor: gorgeous hardwood floors; large spacious rooms with high ceilings; bright, sunlit rooms; and a heated four-car parking garage on the first floor.
Over the years, the cold, icy room had witnessed many family events. The last had been her nana’s funeral. Despite that she had once lived in this house, she thought she would never return when she left that day. The days of coming and going without a thought had ended.
Nana was gone. Riley was no longer welcome in the house, which her uncle now owned.
A sudden, overwhelming memory of a long ago Christmas Eve surfaced and warmed her heart. What was wrong with her? Happy memories were few and far between in this family…house…but there had been a time once when it had all been so different.
How old had she been? Eight or nine. Closing her eyes, she saw the scene so vividly. The library had been decorated in the most festive fashion. The tall evergreen fir, placed in the corner by the oversized window, faced the street below. The heavily flocked tree decorated in green and red of traditional ornaments glistened in the lights; a beautiful porcelain angel topped the top of the tree.
Garland draped over the door and mantel with a large ornamented wreath above the blazing fireplace. Antique heirlooms littered the room, with a traditional train set chugging round the base of the tree where the tree skirt ended.
Sounds, chatter and laughing, resonated around her. Happiness. She could see her father so clearly in front of her, holding a glass in his hand, ever so handsome. He stood between his brothers and father, talking…chuckling.
Jack Ashcroft had been half a foot taller than his brothers and father, having taken after his mother. His fair complexion and striking sky-blue eyes contrasted his brothers…and his smile charmed the hardest heart.
Riley had learned at an early age that people were drawn to her father. Charisma, Meme, their housekeeper, had called it.
Leaning over to Nana, Riley remembered sipping her nana’s eggnog and snuggling close to her. The day had been perfect…perhaps not at the beginning. Her excitement in coming to Boston with her daddy for Christmas had been squashed when on her arrival her cousin, Olivia, teased her about her clothes.
Daddy had always let Meme, their housekeeper, pick out her clothes. Down in Whipple, there had been no need for such fancy dresses. Her heart swelled remembering how much care Meme had taken in picking out just the right dresses for her…but Olivia sneered the moment she saw Riley.
Four years older than Riley, Olivia had always been idolized by her younger cousin. The taunt cut Riley deep. Water welled in her eyes and to Riley’s horror, tears streamed down her cheeks.
She had no need to fear. Nana had taken care of her. Riley hadn’t even had time to put her suitcase down when Nana took her down to Newbury Street and bought her an elegant party dress.
How she loved that dress! She recalled every detail of the dazzling gift. Green taffeta glittered flower flocking with a black velvet bolero jacket. She felt like a princess.
After her return from shopping, Daddy waited for her with Olivia and Freddy. He took them down to the Frog Pond on Boston Common and skated the afternoon away. Of course, she didn’t know how to skate. But to her delight, Olivia took one hand, Freddy the other.
Nana and Grandfather even came down and had hot chocolate with them. Afterwards, they had an amazing Christmas Eve dinner, where they came back to this room… Such a lovely time…so long ago…so much had changed.
“Umm, Riley, I said.”
Abruptly, she looked at Walter. Long ago, she had stopped using the term of endearment of uncle.
Short, no more than five seven, his graying hair had thinned and his waist had expanded since his youth. He was not a man who most would have noticed in a crowded room, but Riley knew him well—a dangerous opponent when it came to protecting what he considered his.
He sat behind his desk with a solemn expression. “I know you will agree that during this time, the family needs to present a united front to the public. It would be for the best.”
She stiffened. Her every nerve went on alert. She wasn’t a fool. Despite his assertion, she comprehended only too well that her uncle had not changed from the ruthless and merciless man she had come to know.
For as long as she could remember, Walter Ashcroft, Jr. bowed at the altar of the almighty dollar, trying to imitate the legacy he had been born into. “Old money” begat money. Doors of the elite of Boston opened to his knock. The problem: he wasn’t Walter Ashcroft, Sr.—Witt to those who knew him.
Riley had heard the whispers about her uncle—that he wasn’t the businessman his father had been. Too reckless. Too impatient. Too arrogant. WAS stock had dropped by fifteen percent since he had been appointed CEO.
She would never forgive the heartless bastard for keeping her from Nana, while her beloved grandmother lay on her deathbed. No, Walter was just as unfeeling as he had been when he had left her to fend for herself at fourteen after his brother had killed himself.
Now, he had the nerve to demand her presence for a family emergency.
A coldness swept over Riley. “Best for who? A family you have made clear I’m not a part of anymore?”
His hardened eyes fixed on her face. “Don’t be childish. Everything that has happened between us was brought on by your own behavior.”
His words burned in her soul. Her fault? Her throat went dry. She refused to be intimidated by this man anymore. Clutching her hands tightly, she tried desperately not to let him see her tremble.
She drew in a deep breath. “Is this why you had me brought here? To be insulted?”
“I had Ellis bring you here to clear the air. We need to put our differences aside…at least for Freddy’s sake.”
“Why?” Glancing quickly around the room, Riley shook her head, confused. “Where is Freddy? For that matter, where is my Jeep?”
“He is safe.” Ellis spoke for the first time since he had escorted her to her uncle. He stood at the window, staring down at the activity on the street. He turned to Riley. “I didn
’t lie to the police. Freddy was admitted to Mass General after abandoning your Jeep.”
She looked at the man who once had been her father’s best friend. Tall and lean, Riley wouldn’t consider him a handsome man. His nose was too sharp, his eyes, too narrow but Ellis was polished, refined, and Harvard educated.
The Ivy League school had been where he had met her father. Both had played basketball for Harvard. Their friendship continued through Harvard Law. After graduation, her father had even helped Ellis land his first job at Lincoln and Sullivan, one of Boston’s most prestigious law firms.
Her father had left the law firm to move down South. Ellis had become a permanent fixture at Lincoln and Sullivan. Now, he was a senior partner in the firm and the Ashcrofts’ private lawyer.
“Then would someone explain what has happened?”
Ellis walked over to the side of Walter’s desk. “What your uncle is trying to tell you is despite your feelings toward each other, you both care for Freddy. Freddy needs for the family to come together for him. He needs protecting. This time, not only from himself.”
Her throat turned to dust. “The police? You can’t believe that Freddy had anything to do with murdering Mrs. Barlow. I was there.”
“Yes, you were,” Walter interjected, his voice quite agitated. “The question is what you were doing there…”
“Walter!” Ellis surprisingly reprimanded his client. “I thought we agreed how to handle this.” He sat on the corner of the desk and leaned toward Riley. “Riley, we need to clarify exactly what happened this morning.”
For a moment, she stared at the both of them incredulously. “You know why,” she said to her uncle when she found her voice. “Freddy said you asked him to pick up some papers of yours that Mrs. Barlow accidentally took after she left.”
”I did no such thing! I would never send a pothead to collect papers for me.” Walter was angry now. He pointed at Ellis. “Why do you think I have him on retainer? Have you lost your ever fucking mind?”
Taken back by his intensity, she murmured feebly, “It’s what Freddy said.”
“And you believed him? Look where it got us!”
Ellis raised his hand to calm the rising situation. His face expressed his own frustration. “It would serve no purpose to draw your uncle into this mess and have things escalate from bad to worse.”
There was a long pause before she replied. “I won’t lie.”
Ellis cleared his throat. “So, look, Riley, the deal is both you and your uncle need each other at the moment.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Freddy wrecked your Jeep, Riley.” Ellis then added, “He was high as a kite.”
“High? No way,” she said, trying to make sense of all that had happened.
“If you don’t trust your uncle, trust me,” Ellis asserted. “I saw Freddy myself. Luckily, I got to him before the police and was able to get him to the hospital. He was messed up bad. I had to place him in the lockdown unit.”
Riley said nothing as she thought back to the morning. It was hard to focus. All she kept hearing was his scream from within the house… All she kept seeing was a dead man lying in the doorway.
“We need to contain an impending catastrophe. No one here believes that Freddy did anyone harm, but there are questions that the police are going to want answers to.” Ellis sat down in the chair next to her and took her hand. “It would be my assumption that Freddy was desperate for a fix and went there to burglarize the house, thinking that Helen wouldn’t press charges against him if he was caught. He used you for an unwilling accomplice.”
“In broad daylight? That makes no sense,” Riley insisted. “You weren’t there. He wasn’t high.” She looked at her uncle. “Freddy was trying to help you. He talked me into driving him. He said it was important to you.”
“Freddy has always been a great manipulator.” Ellis’s solemn tone brought her attention back to him. “Riley, he was caught ransacking Mrs. Barlow’s bedroom while she lay dead on the floor. Freddy’s prints are all over the crime scene, from which he ran and stole your Jeep.” He shifted his position and looked straight in her eyes with his intense, dark ones. “What if the police believe he killed them last night and came back to give himself an alibi…to explain why his prints are all over the scene?”
Riley sat back, not believing a word of it. She knew her cousin well enough to know when he was high. He would have been nervous and anxious. She shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. I was with him this morning. He was trying to make amends to me…”
“That’s exactly what we can tell the police. That Freddy was trying to make amends. You can confirm it.”
“Confirm what?”
“What you two were doing at Helen’s home this morning. I believe it is very feasible that Freddy was reaching out to all the people he feels he’s done wrong, which includes Helen.”
“Yes…yes…” Walter agreed. “It’s believable.”
“As long as Riley confirms Freddy’s statement,” Ellis added. “It’s important to show family solidarity at times such as these.”
She laughed humorlessly. “Solidarity? Am I to forget all that has happened? Ignore the fact that I’m about to be kicked to the curb…or ever forgive—”
“No, you’re right. There has been too much senseless bickering.” Ellis spoke firmly. “Obviously, Walter is willing to make concessions to bring the family back together. He has agreed to immediately put a hold on all legal proceedings dealing with the estate of your grandmother until this situation has been contained.”
“Cut to the chase. What are you telling me?”
“That you may live in your grandmother’s house without fear of being evicted until a time that a settlement can be arranged.”
Silence. Riley stared at the two men with the startled realization they were blatantly attempting to bribe her. She hesitated.
“Your Aunt Cora wants you to attend the gala in honor of Mother at the Museum of Fine Arts,” Walter offered.
Taken back, she was at a loss for words. She finally managed, “It was made perfectly clear to me last month that I wasn’t welcome.”
Walter sighed, a long-suffering sigh. “After careful consideration and discussion, Cora and I realized Mother would want you there. I have already seen to all the necessary arrangements, along with a limousine to pick you up Saturday night. Of course, you will be included with the family.”
“This is a major gesture on your uncle’s part to repair the damage that has been done to the family,” Ellis emphasized, playing down her unwillingness. “Moreover, Riley, we need to think of Freddy. Do you really think he is capable of murder? Do you think he could survive an investigation?”
“Don’t play on my emotions,” she warned, not bothering to hide her skepticism. “I won’t be manipulated.”
“So you think Freddy killed both Helen and her son?” Ellis pressed her hard.
“You know I don’t think Freddy killed—”
“Then it is settled.” Ellis’s eyebrows rose with a thin, patronizing smile. “I will have Cora make all the necessary arrangements. But, Riley, remember the importance of taking a low profile concerning this morning’s unfortunate incident. The press would make a field day of Helen’s association with the family. I am already going to have to investigate why Josh Kincaid was already at the scene.”
“Josh Kincaid?”
“The man who was with you at the scene. He didn’t introduce himself?”
She looked at Walter and then back at Ellis. For years, both men had been a thorn in her side, throttling her inheritance away from her, trying to dictate what she could and could not do…like they were doing now…trying to control her…
They assumed they had silenced her. Infuriating, that’s what it was. Impulsively, she said under her breath, “He didn’t have to.”
“That’s good…good…you recognized him from TV.” Ellis nodded his head in his arrogant way, confident she would
n’t have incriminated Freddy.
Her nerves frayed. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that haughty, conceited smile off Ellis’s face. She said simply, “No, not exactly. We’re seeing each other. I’m dating Josh Kincaid.”
She succeeded.
Chapter Five
The only thing Riley was certain about was that sleep would not come easy. When she closed her eyes, she saw dead bodies. Still and motionless…with a single bullet hole in the head. The dead men’s faces merged into one…her daddy….Daddy.
Consciously, she realized her mind was mingling the past and present, but it did little to alleviate the shock, the pain, and the fear she felt. She relived the scene time and time again.
Wearing only a T-shirt and gym shorts, she cuddled on the couch with Bailey and watched reruns of The Big Bang Theory. The comedy had done little to divert her attention away from the day’s events.
The drink she held in her hand was another matter. She had just downed her second shot of Jameson. With any luck, the bottle that sat in the middle of the coffee table would erase the memories that had been haunting her…at least until morning.
She rubbed her face with her hands. Nothing made sense, but it hadn’t for a long time.
God, she was tired. Sick and tired. Since the day she found her father with his head down on his desk, lifeless, she had constantly fought to keep from falling into an abyss of despair. Time and time again, she had to pick up the pieces of her life.
Now, her resolve was challenged once again.
The day had started with such promise. How had it gone to shit so quickly? Poor Mrs. Barlow dead. Freddy in a psychiatric lockdown unit. Her Jeep totaled.
At least with the arrangement with her uncle, she wouldn’t be homeless. Not that it helped much. Her roommates, her extra source of income, had all left to find other places to live, except for Lonnie. But he, too, would be leaving soon.
Moreover, she wasn’t under any illusion. This was only a temporary arrangement. The minute Walter felt he had no need for her, the offer would be rescinded. She expected it.
Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) Page 4