A Murderous Game

by Paris Patricia

  Simms gave a tight nod. "Thank you. My partner will sit in as a silent observer to ensure I conduct the remainder of this interview by the book."

  "Let's forget about the property in Florida for the moment. No one is accusing you of anything here, but we've received conflicting information, and I hope with your help we can uncover the truth."

  "I'm not afraid of the truth, Detective Simms. It's a lot less scary than anything that's come up in this interview so far."

  Despite the dig, the corner of Simms's mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. "Duly noted, Mrs. Carpenter. Getting back to my earlier point, you've denied you and Carpenter were trying to reconcile. Yet, your ex confided to a friend that the two of you were getting back together. That same friend informed us that on a subsequent date, when the two met for lunch, your ex was incensed because he'd discovered you and Mr. Faraday were carrying on an affair."

  "You're talking about Harold Billings, aren't you?" Abby crossed her arms tightly.

  The detective nodded.

  Billings knew damn well there hadn't been any talk of getting together again. What motive could he possibly have for telling the police otherwise? It didn't make sense, unless Dick had lied for some reason and told Harold they were trying to reconcile. No, that made even less sense.

  "I don't understand why he told you that. It's not true, and he had no business speculating about my relationship to Mr. Faraday."

  Simms sat back, rubbing the tip of his index finger back and forth over his mouth, watching her. "Billings gave me the impression that you and he were friends. Aside from admitting to some disappointment over your husband's claim you'd been having an affair, he had only good things to say about you."

  Abby sputtered. "Friends!? Good things to say! Oh brother." She snorted her disbelief. "Are you telling me Harold Billings is the source of your conflicting information? Detective, Harold and I have never been friends, and I can't imagine why, but for some reason only he knows, he lied to you about Dick and me."

  Simms tapped his pencil against the yellow legal pad he'd been taking notes on, continuing to study her as if her nose might start to grow any second, and he didn't want to miss the spectacle. It made her want to scream.

  "As I'm sure you're aware," he said, sitting forward again, "we've had you and Mr. Faraday under surveillance for the last week. This isn't meant as a moral judgment, only an observation, but it does seem the two of you are more than business associates."

  "I don't understand how our involvement is relevant," Abby said, tamping down her growing frustration. "It's got nothing to do with Dick's murder." Gage made her happy, despite her concerns it wouldn't last forever, she loved him, and she didn't feel she needed to justify their relationship to anyone, even the police.

  "Tell me again, how long have you known Mr. Faraday?" Simms asked offhandedly.

  "A little over a month," she said, losing some of her patience. "He hired our firm to develop a marketing campaign, and I was assigned to manage the account. We've been over all this."

  "And you want to stick with that story?"

  "It's not a story," she said defiantly, tired of rehashing the same old stuff. "It's the truth. I don't know why you won't believe me. You can check with my boss, Mr. Norwell. He'll confirm the date Mr. Faraday came to our firm to discuss hiring us to manage his account."

  Simms picked up the leather portfolio he'd brought in with him. Reaching inside, he pulled out a plastic bag containing a little red book and tossed it on the table.

  Abby's eyes widened with shock as she stared at her old diary. "Where did you get that?" she asked in a strained whisper, feeling her world suddenly tilt off balance.

  "Is it yours?" Simms's tone sounded less patient, as if he didn't like games and thought she'd been trying to play him.

  "I thought I misplaced it. How did you—"

  "As I said, we did a subsequent search of your ex-husband's house and found this. Billings had told us your ex had shown him an old diary of yours that might shed some light on the investigation."

  "Dick stole my—" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "But…but what does my old diary have to do with any of this?"

  "Considering it details an intimate relationship between you and Faraday that took place a number of years ago, it proves you lied about how long you've known each other. It certainly doesn't mean you're guilty of murder, but it does make me wonder what else you might have lied about."

  "I haven't lied about anything," she insisted, but it was becoming more and more obvious the detectives didn't believe her. She was innocent. Why couldn't they see it? Maybe she should think about contacting a lawyer.

  A disturbance started somewhere outside the interview room, and the detectives looked at each other as heated voices continued to rise in volume.

  "I don't give a damn about your fucking procedures. Show me where she is, or I'll rip this place apart until I find her."

  Abby recognized Gage's voice and almost came out of the metal chair where she'd been sitting for the last half hour.

  Detective Baker smirked. "Sounds like someone told your boyfriend we invited you down for a little visit."

  Simms threw him a warning glance. "I'd better get out there before Faraday tries to follow through on his threat. Make yourself comfortable until I get back. And Baker," he added with a meaningful look, "do not start without me."

  "You son of a bitch," Abby heard Gage say a moment after Simms walked out.

  "Is Faraday always so hot tempered?" Abby ignored Baker's question. "So how long have the two of you been lovers?"

  She gave him a sideways glance. "Are you hard of hearing or just poor at following orders?"

  Baker chuckled and Abby looked away. She was more concerned about Gage than playing games with the detective.

  "Just settle down." She heard Simms command. "We're not holding her for anything. And unless you're trying to get yourself arrested, you'll sit down, shut up, and wait until we've finished."

  Their voices lowered, and she couldn't make out what followed. Within minutes, Detective Simms returned. He wasn't happy.

  Before either of the detectives could ask anything else, Abby cleared her throat and said, "I don't think I want to say anything else without a lawyer." She folded her hands on the table. "I've answered your questions, and now if you don't mind, I'd like to leave."

  To her surprise, Detective Simms didn't attempt to stop her. He stood up and put his notes and the diary back into the portfolio.

  "In that case, thank you for coming in, Mrs. Carpenter. I hope we haven't inconvenienced you too much." He picked up the recorder and tucked it under his arm. "We'll be in touch," he said, then glanced at his partner, hitched his head toward the door, and walked out.

  ~~~

  "They think I killed Dick. They think I murdered him for the money." Abby's fingers tightened, flexing uncontrollably against the sleeve of Gage's suit jacket. "Twelve million dollars. He tricked me out of the property and sold it for twelve million dollars, and I never suspected a thing."

  His mouth compressed into a tight line as he studied her pale cheeks and read the desperation in her worried green gaze. "Look," he said, cradling her shoulders. "I've got my chief legal counsel making arrangements to have one of the best defense attorneys in the country meet with us later today. Everything's going to be all right."

  Two furrows appeared between her brows. "You hired an attorney for me?" She searched his face. "Do I look so guilty, even to you, that you felt compelled to hire someone to start planning my defense?"

  He opened his mouth to object but she forestalled him.

  "No, it's not just that. I'd already decided to contact an attorney on my own. I can take care of myself, Gage. I don't need you or anyone else trying to run my life or make decisions for me without consulting me first."

  He tried not to be offended. "I wasn't trying to preempt you," he said, keeping his tone even. "When I heard the police brought you into the station, I was worried they m
ight try to arrest you. I did the first thing I thought of." He glanced out the window of the cab as it turned onto

  Walnut Street on their way to drop Abby off back at her office. "I didn't realize you'd be so opposed to accepting my help." He heard her sigh beside him. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to hold her, but her comment about not needing him had felt like a slap. She'd said she loved him, gave herself over to his loving with an enthusiasm that left him breathless. But he knew in his heart she held something back, a part she would not give over, no matter how often he reached for it.

  Silence enshrouded the cab. Her thigh brushed against his. He fought the desire to turn to her, to be the one to reach out again. His pride wouldn't let him. How many times had he coaxed her emotion, asked her to trust him? What the hell was so wrong with needing him? He felt her hand on his wrist and flinched.

  "Gage," she whispered.

  He turned his head in impassive silence. "What?" he asked, his tone lacking the emotion he felt.

  She bit her lip, her eyes rising slowly to meet his. "It seems I've done it again."

  "Done what?" he asked blandly.

  He wanted to kiss her until he drove every ounce of resistance from her lovely body, and she wanted nothing more than to lay within his arms, safe and sated in the shelter of his love. Love me, Abby.

  "Taken my frustrations out on you," she said. "I felt like I was on trial in there. I felt like I couldn't defend myself. No matter what I said, they didn't seem to believe me. I'm positive Detective Baker's already convicted me."

  He ground his back teeth. She didn't want his defense; she didn't want his concern. She wouldn't want to know he felt like telling the cabbie to turn around and take him back to the station so he could give Baker a complimentary nose job. He wasn't really sure what she wanted.

  "Gage," she said again, his name sounding like a plea. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. I hate not being able to control what's happening to me. It happened with Dick."

  "I'm not Dick," he snapped, angered by the comparison.

  "No, you're not." She wrapped her fingers around his hand. "You're nothing like him, nothing. But when Dick's affairs were exposed, it was horrible. My life became public property. I was put on display, scrutinized for my faults, judged, found lacking. I hated every second of it, and I was helpless to change it."

  His anger began to dissolve. He didn't like being shut out of any part of her life, but he could understand her need to feel as if she had some control over it.

  "I'll tell Mel to cancel whatever arrangements he's made." He pulled his cell phone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and flipped it open.

  She stayed his hand. "You don't have to do that. I know you weren't being manipulative. I overreacted. That's what I was trying to say. I didn't kill Dick, but the police think I did. The more I tried to explain the more I seemed to incriminate myself. It was the same as before. I had no control over what they thought."

  She glanced up at him. "I felt powerless, cornered. I wanted to scream. When you said you'd made arrangements for an attorney, I jumped on it, on you, because you were there, and I needed something to—" Her lip trembled and she caught it between her teeth. "I'm sorry."

  "So am I."

  "You're sorry?" She frowned. "For what?"

  "For being such a selfish bastard." He pulled her into his arms.

  "Do you want to explain that?" she asked against his chest.

  "No."

  She tilted her face up to look at him. "Would you do something for me?"

  "I'd sell my soul for you."

  "I didn't have anything that drastic in mind."

  He smiled for the first time since Rachael had called to tell him Abby had been taken to the police station for questioning. He trailed a finger along her jaw line, the delicate skin there as soft as warm silk. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, wishing they were on the way to his penthouse instead of her office.

  "A kiss," she said shyly, as if it embarrassed her to ask. It amazed him. He'd explored every part of her body, and she could still feel self-conscious asking for something as simple as a kiss.

  The cab pulled up to the curb in front of Abby's building. Gage glanced at the driver. It didn't matter. He couldn't refuse her; he couldn't refuse himself. He bent his head and gave her what she wanted.

  Too soon the kiss ended, leaving him hungry.

  "That was nice," she said.

  "That was just an appetizer."

  She caught her lip. "So. . . when do I get the main course?"

  He chuckled. "Tonight. Followed by dessert."

  "Promise?"

  Gage growled and opened the cab door. "Keep it up and you'll be getting a seven course meal in the back seat of the cab."

  He got out and took her hand, her eyes smiling up at him as she slid out of the car. "Wait here," he told the driver.

  "I'll call you after I talk to Mel and let you know what's happening with the attorney." He held her gaze. "Are you all right with that?" he asked, wanting her to know it was her decision.

  She nodded. "That's fine. Thank you."

  He resisted the urge to kiss her again. He saw the same longing in her eyes. It would have to wait.

  "I'll see you tonight," he said softly, and as he turned to leave, he brushed against her, his fingers trailing over the back of her hand, hidden from the passersby.

  "The Heritage Place Building on Chestnut," Gage said when he climbed back into the cab.

  He glanced out the window. He could see Abby crossing the lobby through the glass front doors. He was worried. Twelve million dollars was a hell of a lot of motive.

  He flipped open his cell and called Grace.

  "Are Mel and Brett still there?"

  "Brett's in your office. Mel stepped out but should be back shortly," Grace told him.

  "Put me through to Brett, and then try to get in touch with Mel on his cell and tell him I need to meet with him and Brett in my office in fifteen minutes," he said.

  Five seconds later Brett came on the line. "Christ, Gage, what the hell's going on? The way you ran out of here no one knows what to think. Mel's been doing fucking cartwheels to get Quentin Robertson to fly here this evening to talk to you, and he can't even tell the guy what's so goddamn critical he needs to drop everything he's doing to come."

  "I'm on my way in. I'll talk to you and Mel when I get there. In the meantime, Matt's down at the site. Call him and tell him to meet us at the office in—" he glanced at his watch "—an hour and a half."

  He heard Brett's heavy sigh. "Does all this have anything to do with the AG's probe?" he asked.

  "I'll explain what I can when I get there," Gage said.

  "Is there any chance your explanation will make Mel and me feel any better about what's going on?"

  "Probably not."

  "I was afraid you'd say that."

  Ten minutes later Gage walked through the front doors of

  Heritage Place. The day was half over, but his work was just about to begin.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tuesday afternoon T. Eugene Simms stared at the yellow pad on his desk and asked himself the question that had been bothering him for over a week.

  If Abigail Carpenter was guilty of murdering her ex-husband, or convinced Faraday to do it for her, why wasn't she acting more like a guilty person?

  In his experience, the guilty usually played it cool, even arrogant, or they were so nervous they gave themselves away or made sloppy mistakes trying to cover up. She knew they suspected her, yet she'd come to the station willingly when asked and allowed them to question her. He didn't think she was stupid, quite the opposite, but instead of refusing to talk to them, as was often the case when guilty, she hadn't even thought of contacting a lawyer until Baker had backed her against a wall and frightened her.

  He loved a puzzle, he always had, and if a piece didn't fit, he arranged and rearranged until everything fell neatly into place, just the way he liked it. On the surface, sol
ving Richard Carpenter's murder looked like a slam dunk. He had two seemingly obvious suspects. He had motive, and he had what some might consider compelling circumstantial evidence.

  He linked his hands behind his neck. There were those in the department who said they trusted his intuition more than they trusted evidence. Right now it told him to keep shuffling the pieces.

  Carpenter and Faraday were lovers. He knew that from the surveillance he'd set up, and although both of them had basically told him it was none of his business, they hadn't denied it. He also knew they'd been lovers years ago. Carpenter's diary had chronicled the affair in steamy detail.

  He smirked. It was hard to imagine someone like her involved in an illicit affair when she'd been just a kid. He shook his head. Looks could be so deceiving, but he'd seen the proof.

  The decedent had admitted to Billings he'd taken the diary from his ex-wife's house. Apparently, he'd gone there to try to patch things up although after talking with Abby Carpenter yesterday, he wasn't sure who to believe on that account. Regardless, when she wasn't home, Carpenter had let himself in with an old key, found the diary, and started reading it.

  Gene rubbed his chin, running possible scenarios through his mind. The man became enraged by what he'd read, left with the diary, and then what? Confronted Faraday? Confronted his ex-wife? Threatened one or both of them?

  Who else might have wanted Richard Carpenter out of the picture? He leaned forward and jotted several names on the legal pad. Beside Abby Carpenter and Gage Faraday's names he put a P for primaries.

  He included the names of four women they'd discovered Carpenter had had affairs with during the last two years, the husbands of the two who were married, and Rachael Gooding. He tapped his pencil against the pad. He added Harold Billings. He tapped the pad again. He added Senator Carpenter as well as Abigail Carpenter's parents.

  He didn't consider them all suspects, but one of them knew something important, even if they didn't realize it. He glanced at the list and frowned. Gaining the cooperation of some would present a bigger challenge than others.