“Not one of your strengths.” Terry smirked.
“Hey.”
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
She pursed her lips and put the car into drive, her mind on hitting the first Starbucks they came across. “How are you coming along with finding a safe-deposit box in her name, by the way?”
“Nowhere yet. I’ve checked the major banks in Stiles and none of them have any record of Claire Reeves.”
Ten minutes later, she parked the car in front of a downtown Starbucks and turned to face him. “I’ll take my regular.” She flashed him a cheesy grin.
“Oh, so I’m going in?”
“I can’t very well just leave the car idling here.”
“You could turn it off.”
She shook her head. “Nope. You get the caffeine, and I’ll call Legalities.com.”
Terry locked his gaze with hers for a few seconds. “All right. Deal.”
He got out and she watched after him until he’d entered the coffee shop. She pulled up the browser on her phone, found a contact number for the company, and called them.
“Legalities.com, where we make your legal matters an ease.” The receptionist sounded robotic, and it wasn’t until some silence passed and she said, “Hello?” that Madison realized she was on with a live person and not connected to an automated service.
Madison introduced herself as a Stiles PD detective. “I’d like to speak with a manager.”
“One moment pl—” The woman had clipped herself off and transferred Madison’s call.
“Hello, this is Lucy, ID number six-five-three-two.”
“Lucy, this is Detective Madison Knight with Stiles PD. A client of yours has died, and as an officer looking into her death, I’d like you to send a copy of the documents she’d purchased from you.”
“Let’s start with their name,” Lucy said without missing a beat, the death of a stranger not affecting her at all.
“Claire Reeves. She’s from Stiles.”
Lucy clicked keys and paused. “I see her file. I will just need you to verify the credit card information she has on file with us.”
“I don’t have that.”
“You said you’re a detective.” Lucy’s voice was riddled with skepticism.
“I am.” Madison didn’t have time for this woman on a power trip.
“Then you should have the number,” Lucy said pleasantly.
Madison rolled her eyes. “As I said, I don’t have that information to give you.”
“Then I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
You’re not sorry at all.
“By denying me access to her files, you are interfering with a police investigation.” Madison’s earlobes were heating with anger.
“How would I even know that you are who you’re saying? I’m sorry, but—”
“Please put your supervisor on the line,” Madison ground out.
“I am a manager.”
“Fine, get who you report to on the line. Now.”
“One minute.” Lucy’s tone was fiery but that wasn’t Madison’s concern.
“Hello?” No name or ID this time, and it was a man. “What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem is that your company isn’t cooperating with an active police investigation.”
“Police investigation? One moment, please.”
“No, I—” Too late. She was back on hold.
Madison tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and watched pedestrians strolling along the sidewalk, their breaths fogging in the cool air.
“Detective?” The man was back on the line.
“Yes?”
“I would be glad to help you.”
The only thing that could account for the change of heart would be a quick Google search; he’d confirmed Claire Reeves had been murdered.
The man continued. “We keep records of not only the document types purchased but also the final document.”
Madison’s heart sped up. “Can you tell me over the phone what types of documents she purchased?”
“Certainly. It looks like a will and a business contract.”
She’d be able to see beneficiaries. “Send the information to…” She rattled off her e-mail address.
“I’ll get it right over. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“That’s all.” She hung up at the same time that Terry opened his door.
“Here you go.” He extended a cappuccino toward her and she took it from him. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.
“Legalities.com is probably forwarding Claire’s documents as we speak.”
“Wow, you got them to cooperate? And without a warrant?”
“Seems so.”
“They had a copy of her will, then?”
“Yes, and another partnership contract.”
Terry lifted his Starbucks cup as if about to make a toast.
Madison pulled out of the parking spot and merged with traffic, wanting to get back to the station to look at the paperwork.
The first traffic light she came to turned red.
The second one turned red.
And the third one turned red.
“Oh lord, can’t we just catch a break? I should put the lights on.”
“And abuse the system?”
“It wouldn’t be abusing it. We are on a case.” She glanced over at him. By the time she turned back to the light, it was green. She gunned the gas.
“Help me.”
She looked at him again. One hand hugged his Starbucks and the other gripped the front dash. He lifted it to point out the windshield.
“Eyes on the road, please. You don’t want you to hit someone.”
“Hey, I’ve never hit anyone—”
“You’ve come close before.”
How she wished she could slam back a rebuttal, but it was the truth. She had blamed the situation on being a good detective, too focused on the direction of the case to focus on the road. Deflection was the perfect response in this scenario. She lifted her hands off the wheel. “Look, Terry, no hands.”
Sheer panic washed over his face and Madison laughed.
“You’re such a girl.”
MADISON SETTLED BEHIND HER DESK at the station and Terry at his. She was bringing up her e-mail program when she heard someone approaching. But she didn’t want to look up. New messages were coming in. Were any from—
“Do you remember the fluff from the kitchen floor?”
Madison pried her eyes from her monitor and looked up to see Cynthia next to her desk. “Of course. I found it.”
“Well, I traced its composition. It’s a type of down found in top-end skiwear, and Claire didn’t own any.”
“Were you able to determine which manufacturer?” Madison asked, unable to shake the feeling that a coat had already been mentioned in regards to the investigation.
Cynthia shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. But once you find the jacket, you’ll be closer to solving this case.”
“Oh, that’s all,” Terry pitched in drily.
Cynthia shot him a glare. “Yes, that’s all. I can’t do everything for you.”
“Hardy har.”
“Anyway, moving on,” Cynthia began. “The boot prints from the backyard? They were going toward the house, and the stride indicates a person of about six feet.”
“Richards told us the killer would be about five eleven,” Terry began. “That’s close enough to six foot for me.”
Madison recalled how a jacket tied into the investigation now. My, her mind was messed up because of her relationship with Blake. Terry must have forgotten, too. “Claire’s neighbor—” Madison glanced at her partner “—saw a person walking toward the house in a puffy jacket the night she was murdered.”
>
Cynthia opened her hands, palm out, and addressed Terry. “There you go. You’re halfway there.”
“We’re not halfway there. Not even close,” Madison responded and softened her tone when she continued. “But we are ahead.”
“That’s right.” Cynthia sauntered off, having delivered her news.
Madison’s attention went back to her inbox and there was one from Legalities.com. She clicked to open the e-mail.
“Life would be so boring if we solved cases right away,” Terry rambled.
“Really? I think I could handle a straightforward case once in a while.”
He laughed. “I know you better than that. Heck, you would complicate the easy ones.”
“Oh—” Her focus was on the body of the email.
“Maddy, aren’t you going to tell me to shut up, walk over here, and punch my shoulder?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“All right, that’s it. I’m coming over.”
She looked up at him. “The e-mail says that they have a record of her purchasing a detailed partnership agreement from them but that the server containing that data was corrupted and they weren’t able to retrieve the information.”
“Kidding me.”
“I wish. Not that it makes a difference, but they apologized for the inconvenience.” She clicked on the attachment that they had included, though. “They sent the will.” She scrolled down the screen and felt chilled when she saw the two names staring back at her: Darcy Simms and Darren Taylor.
-
Chapter 22
MADISON AND TERRY ENTERED BY DESIGN. “We’d like to speak with Darcy Simms,” Madison said to the receptionist.
“She’s in a meeting,” the woman replied.
“We’ll need you to—”
Darcy walked into the front area and did a double take. “What are you doing here?”
“We could ask you the same.” Madison glanced at the receptionist “We were told you were in a meeting.”
Darcy jutted out her chin. “I was. What do you want, Detective? I’ve told you all I know.”
What do I want? A good friend would be helpful to the cops investigating her friend’s death. Allison had been right about the woman.
Madison took a step toward Darcy. “If you’d like, we could discuss Claire’s will out here.” Madison looked over at the waiting area where a man was sitting cross-legged. “It doesn’t matter to—”
“Sarah, hold my calls.” Darcy swaggered down the corridor to her office, parked behind her desk, and leaned back against her chair. “I don’t know what more I could possibly tell you. As far as I’m concerned, this is getting old.”
“Getting old? Your supposed best friend was murdered less than a week ago. You don’t seem upset by it. Of course, if I stood to inherit one million dollars…” Madison tossed out the bait.
“I didn’t kill her.” Darcy bit whether she realized she had or not.
“So you know you are a benefactor of Claire’s will?”
“Of course, I do.”
Madison gestured her hand between herself and Terry. “To us, that looks like possible motive to get her out of the picture.”
Darcy’s face flushed. “She was my best friend.”
“Was she?” Madison countered, not taking her eyes off the woman for a second. “People have killed for a lot less than a million. There’s no way you were close to Claire.”
“What the hell would you know?” Darcy’s cheeks were almost crimson now.
“You seem more upset that we’re suspecting your involvement in her murder than you were in the news that she had been killed.” Madison’s accusation sank in the air like a stone. “Her death made you rich. Why hide that from us if you’re innocent?”
Darcy took a deep breath. “It’s not like I intended to hide it. I—” she swallowed deeply “—I just didn’t think it would matter.”
“You didn’t think it would matter that you stood to benefit from her death?” Madison asked, unable to mask the skepticism.
Darcy ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“You helped Claire set up her will, manipulated her to include you?” Manipulated might have been too strong a word, but it was out there now.
Darcy was shaking her head. “I didn’t make her do anything. As I’ve said, we were best friends. Do you know what it’s like to have one?”
Madison’s mind went straight to Cynthia. “I do.”
“Then you should understand that the first thing on my mind when I heard she was murdered wasn’t the money.”
Madison’s temper was ebbing. “All right, fair enough. But if there’s anything else you have to tell us, now’s the time.”
“You have nothing on me.”
Quite a defensive response, and it piqued Madison’s interest. “You would be the right height for the killer.” Out of her peripheral, Madison saw Terry’s head turn to her. “If you were elevated somehow, had a good pair of boots.” She was reaching, of course, but sometimes you had to push to get people to talk. Madison continued. “And maybe you didn’t do it yourself. You could have hired someone. As her best friend, you’d have had access to her house.”
“Sure, I had access. So what?” Darcy Simms picked up her pen and doodled wide, wild loops. She was using her right hand again. Had she just happened to pick up the pen with her left before? Or was she aware the killer was left-handed and was keeping up a charade? Darcy paused doodling and looked up at Madison. “I should probably get a lawyer here.”
A threat with no teeth, as Darcy didn’t make a move for her phone or to get up. “Only the guilty have a lawyer,” Madison responded.
“Or the smart.”
Why did that statement sound familiar?
Darcy solidified eye contact with Madison and continued, only proving her mention of retaining a lawyer was an empty threat. “Claire taught me a lesson early on.” She glanced at Terry, blinking deliberately, the rise and fall of her eyelashes almost seductive. “It’s not going to look good for me, so I’m trusting you to do the right thing,”
Madison wanted to cuff the woman. She was trying to use her femininity and sexual appeal to distract them from justice. Terry wasn’t having anything to do with it, though. In fact, it was strongly the opposite reaction. His jaw was rigid and a pulse tapped in his cheek.
“Of course, Miss Simms. You have our word,” Terry said politely.
“All right, then.” Darcy clasped her hands on her lap. “What I’m about to tell you happened a long time ago. And I have moved on.” There was a strain to her voice which belied her claim. “By now you probably know what she did for a living?”
“You refer to screwing people.” Madison put it this way to see what sort of a response she’d get from Darcy.
“She didn’t screw people as you so delicately put it, but she was a shrewd business woman.”
So Darcy felt some loyalty toward Claire.
Darcy went on. “If she had been a man, she would have been revered and respected for her business sense. She kept business as business. She always said that people take their work too seriously, too personally.”
“It’s kind of hard not to when facing bankruptcy or failed marriages,” Madison said.
Darcy glanced at Madison, but put her eye back on Terry. “Anyway, as I was trying to say, she taught me a lesson early on. I had a business.”
Darcy Simms wasn’t listed as one of the business owners on the USB drives, but Madison ran with it as if Darcy had been had worked over by Claire. “Did she ruin your business?”
“I learned valuable life lessons early on.” Darcy didn’t take her gaze off Terry.
Did she keep saying that because she was trying to convince herself that being taken was for her own good?
“I’ll ta
ke that as a yes, then. As you said, this doesn’t look good for you. She screwed you over?” Madison deliberately used the word Darcy disliked, and the woman’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I find it hard to believe you were okay with it.”
“It’s a good thing it doesn’t matter what you believe.”
“It does, actually,” Madison stated drily.
“Whatever. I was thankful for her, at least eventually. Of course I hated her initially, but Claire would have none of it. She took me under her wing and explained how business worked.”
“And that made you okay with taking her side in a fight against yourself?” Madison asked incredulously.
“It wasn’t like that. Anyway, I was honest with you. The past has no bearing on the present or the future.”
“There’s more than one thing that’s not adding up for me in regards to your story,” Madison began, “but the glaring obvious is that your name wasn’t included among the business contracts Claire had in her home safe.”
“You’re not as smart as you think you are.” Darcy held eye contact with Madison. “Claire did a number on me, and my credit was ruined, what I figured at the time, for life. I wanted the entire thing behind me as fast as possible, so I changed my name.”
“And yet you became friends with the very person who caused your trouble. That doesn’t make sense to me,” Madison said.
Darcy rose to her feet and gestured to the door. “If that will be all.”
In the parking lot, Madison turned to Terry. “We’ve got to figure out what her name was before she became Darcy Simms. I still believe there’s a whole lot she’s not telling us.”
“I’m leaning that way, too.”
“Finally, you’re coming around to see my point of view.”
Terry slid her a sour look.
“Hey, sometimes I think you just disagree with me for the sake of disagreeing.”
“You got me.” Terry rolled his eyes.
They got into the car and she conducted a quick search on Darcy Simms, and there was the answer as to her former identity staring at her from the screen: Anita Smith.
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