Unwed and Dead (The Dead Ex Files Book 1)

by Claire Kane

  Of course the location was Greg’s idea. Victor would have ground his teeth over the thought, if he could. At least the man didn’t touch the small of Lacey’s back as he led her to their reserved seating in a covert corner. Greg was good enough to slide Lacey’s seat out, and she sat graciously, giving him a smile that was a little too real for Victor’s taste.

  Don’t forget who died trying to propose to you, he thought at her. He felt her roll her eyes, but was impressed at how she kept it from showing outwardly.

  The producer sat, and raised his hand for service. A waiter appeared a moment later, and Greg jumped at the chance to order wine, promising Lacey it would be the best she’d ever had. That made her think of Victor. Victor prided himself on picking the best wines ever. Lacey couldn’t help but think how the fact that Victor was poisoned with cheap wine had added insult to injury. She imagined Greg dropping powder into his drink, that night. The thought made Lacey’s face burn with anger. If he did it, Victor, Lacey sent her thoughts, here’s your chance to find out.

  I’m already looking into it, babe, Victor returned. Lacey smiled, and Greg, of course, thought it was all for him.

  After ordering their entrees, Greg raised his glass. “How about a toast?”

  “A toast to what?” she asked, lifting her glass.

  “To you feeling better. To giving me another chance to talk with you about the future.”

  The way he said the future was flirtatious for sure. Lacey’s toes curled with discomfort, but she decided she’d play a bit more interested tonight, to get inside his little brain. She knew Victor wouldn’t. In fact, he had suddenly disappeared, surely not wanting to torture himself by watching every one of Greg’s moves.

  Greg sipped his drink, looking up at her with smoldering brown eyes.

  Lacey politely smiled and took a drink. “What exactly do you mean by ‘future’?” She humored him. “Do you strictly mean business?”

  That question was obviously enticing to Greg. “There could be more… if that’s something you’d be open to?”

  Lacey played coy. “What about your wife? How are her headaches doing?”

  Sucking in a deep breath, Greg’s deep purple dress shirt strained against his muscular chest. “So there’s some news there.”

  “Yes?” She couldn’t read his expression.

  Victor reappeared in an instant, frowning as he put a hand on Lacey’s shoulder. Uh, oh.

  Greg lightly pulled at his orange tie, and took another sip of his wine. “We actually signed divorce papers. It’s been a few months.”

  Lacey put on her most intrigued expression and leaned in, eyes narrowed just right. “Really?”

  “That got his heart rate up,” Victor muttered. Lacey tried to ignore it, but felt her skin began to crawl when her ex-boyfriend followed up with a growl. “Wow. This guy is really on the hunt.”

  Greg took another sip, and gazed back into Lacey’s eyes. She saw what looked like real sadness, and it tugged at her heartstrings. “Yeah,” he said. “She filed. I tried to talk her out of it, but the headaches really mess with her mind. She kept making things up, trying to make me look like the bad guy.”

  With a supreme act of will, Lacey managed to keep her skepticism in check. “That’s too bad,” she offered. “She must have said some terrible things.”

  “She did,” Greg said perking up.

  Lacey dropped her voice. “Probably even accused you of stuff you didn’t do.”

  “Yes!”

  “Sleeping around?”

  Greg nodded vigorously.

  “Illegal acts?”

  “Several, actually.”

  Lacey leaned in conspiratorially, placing a hand on the table. Victor leaned in as well. “Even,” Lacey whispered, “murder?”

  Greg rocked back in laughter. When he calmed enough to talk, he reached out and placed a hand on Lacey’s. She flicked her eyes toward it, then back at Greg, before giving a shy smile. Greg responded by squeezing her hand gently. “You’re a ball, Lacey Ling,” he said. “Hiring you was the best decision I ever made at KZTB.”

  Victor growled, wishing he could knock “Mister Television” into the following Tuesday. He opened his mouth to say something, but came up short. Something felt… off. Immediately he cast his eyes about for Legion but was relieved to see that, despite the dimness of the room and the shadiness of some of the patrons, the demons had not yet manifest for the night. Instead, there was something less sinister, but still clearly angry, and it was close. He began searching with his mind.

  “I lost a good woman, Lacey,” Greg said, half surprising her, and distracting Victor from his search. “I loved Deidre more than life itself. But the woman I married,” and Lacey noticed the tears pooling in his eye, “she’s gone now.”

  It was Lacey’s turn to put a hand on Greg. She made soothing noises as she stroked the back of his palm.

  “Easy, girl,” Victor said, trying to remember it was all an act. He could still feel Lacey’s sense of disgust roiling just beneath the surface, and it comforted him.

  “Oh, Greg,” Lacey said, “that is so sad. Maybe she didn’t deserve you after all.” Greg half smiled, but said nothing. “All those trips overseas—I bet she accused you of a lot of things when you got home.”

  He nodded without gusto. “Yeah. I tried to make it up to her every time, but it just didn’t work. I spent a ton on gifts, Japanese clothing, chocolate, wine, and still she kept insisting I was sleeping with local call girls. Or even—get this—staff.” He rolled his eyes and Lacey faked a laugh, trying hard to hide the fact her heart was racing.

  “Let me guess,” Lacey said, “she accused you of slipping something in their drinks and taking them back to your apartment.”

  Greg sighed heavily and buried his face in a hand. Victor, Lacey whispered fiercely. Are you getting this? What’s he thinking?

  Victor concentrated on Greg’s thoughts; on the surface, they were flipping back and forth between how good Lacey looked and how it might not be a bad idea to slip something into her drink before the night was over. Again, he felt that strange sensation of nearby anger.

  “Get away from this guy, Lacey. Before he does something.”

  Lacey pursed her lips, passing it off as sympathy. Did you get proof, Victor? Did Greg poison your wine?

  Victor shook his head. “Not quite. But he’s thinking about drugging you, that’s for sure. Whatever you do, do not go home with this guy.”

  Lacey perked up immediately, and summoned a waiter, who arrived a moment later. “Yes,” she said to the woman, “can we actually get boxes for these? Something’s come up, and we need to leave early.”

  Greg looked up in a flash, confusion plain on his face.

  Lacey patted his hand. “I think we should find somewhere a little more private to discuss these kinds of things. I was just going to watch TV at home, after dinner, but something tells me you could still use a listening ear. My place? What do you say?”

  Victor threw his hands up. “I just said don’t go home with him. Not ‘Take him to your house and pretty much invite him to do whatever.’ What do you mean ‘listening ear’? I don’t even have to be a mind reader to know how he took that.”

  Lacey bit her lip and let her free hand caress the gun at her thigh just for comfort. Greg eyed her dubiously; she needed some better bait, and quick. “Look,” she said quickly, “I’m sorry if that came off as a bit too forward. I just, well—I can tell that you really need a… friend… tonight. Food’s still warm. Let’s just eat it somewhere that lets us talk a little more… freely. Eh?” She sighed inside, and Victor groaned.

  “Lacey, Lacey, Lacey. You’re killing me. And no that wasn’t meant to be a dead joke.”

  Greg bit his lip. “Well, the divorce is finalized, so no one can accuse us of anything.” He chuckled nervously, and Lacey copied him. His face softened slightly. “Thanks, Lacey,” he said sincerely, “I could really use a good heart-to-heart.”

  Victor’s fists
clenched instantly, hearing Greg’s follow-up thought. As Lacey got up, Victor stepped right in front of her. “Do not take this guy home, Lacey. I’m telling you—”

  Please, Victor, she said, stepping through him again, trust me. I know a little about men. Just because you never figured that out while you were alive doesn’t mean I’m a dunce.

  “Hey, Lacey?” Greg said, signing for payment. “Can we make one quick stop on the way back?”

  Lacey hesitated, then smiled. “Sure. How about we take my car? We’ll pick yours up in the morning.”

  Greg smiled wide. “Now that’s one of the best ideas I’ve heard all night.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Lacey’s heart hammered as they pulled into the parking garage at the KZTB tower. Night had fallen early under a thick bank of Seattle’s best cloud cover. Greg had been silent most of the trip, but, thankfully, had also kept his hands to himself. Aside from the occasional glance at her, and a few directions, he may as well not have been in the car. Victor, of course, spent the whole trip rattling off the sordid details of Greg’s thoughts, none of which included anything about Victor, cheap wine, or murder.

  Hoping to tease out details, Lacey had brought Victor up a couple of times, but Greg offered terse, almost bored answers with barely the right amount of sympathy in them. His ambiguity was nearly infuriating, but Lacey maintained her coy, flirtatious act just enough to ensure Greg’s interest didn’t wane. She was starting to wonder whether this whole thing was for nought. Still, something inside drove her on.

  As if to reassure her of his “friendship,” he hopped out of her car the instant she parked, and hurried to get her door. Victor was there first, of course, with a look that Lacey knew meant, “I would have been here first anyway.” Lacey smiled gently inside, and placed a hand on Victor’s arm, even knowing she wouldn’t feel it. His face softened, and he moved to let her pass.

  “So, Greg,” Lacey said, scanning the parking lot. Most of the day staff had gone home, but the place was far from empty. Yet the glare of fluorescent lights on the zombie-like parked cars did nothing to ease her nerves. “We go out to dinner, and your idea of a romantic epilogue is more office time?” She chuckled, but Greg only gave a weak smile.

  “I guess I could have picked a better place, but I’ve got my reasons. Let’s get up to the helipad.”

  Lacey arched a brow. Victor snorted a warning.

  Greg half smiled. “You’ll see.”

  *

  The helicopter waited on the roof like a predator, silent and patient as Lacey and Greg approached.

  “I know how you hate the wind of the rotors,” Greg said as he helped her into the passenger’s seat, “so I figured I wouldn’t call ahead to have it started when we arrived.”

  Lacey gave him an appreciative look, and put a hand to her chest. “That was so thoughtful of you, Victor.”

  Greg frowned. “Come again?”

  Lacey paused, feeling the blood drain slightly from her face. “I meant Greg. Sorry. I guess talking about my ex got him lodged in my mind. Like a chicken bone, or something.”

  Greg half chuckled. “Well, don’t take it personally if I accidentally call you Deidre, or something, tonight.” They both laughed at that, but Victor wanted to howl and to tear the guy limb from limb for what he was thinking.

  “Oh, and thanks for indulging me that little stop in the office,” the producer said, as he climbed into the cockpit.

  “What little stop?”

  He smiled. “I’m teasing. I just checked in with someone when you stopped to use the ladies’ room on our way up. Standard procedure before checking out little pieces of equipment like company helicopters.”

  Lacey humored him with a laugh.

  Greg set his headphones in place and Lacey did the same. The man started flipping switches all across the control panel.

  Lacey didn’t like how he suddenly had the upperhand, that he was taking her somewhere out of her control. Was she making a huge mistake? Even if she found no evidence to believe he was Victor’s murderer—which was looking increasingly likely—she was sure he was still a criminal. And as a criminal, she doubted his scruples. The thought of the TV exec flying her to a remote location to rape her came to mind. Victor concurred and she shuddered.

  Victor was now surprisingly resigned to not talking, taking a spot behind her.

  “Well,” Greg said, “let’s get going. We’ve got some things to talk about.” He turned and locked eyes with Lacey. “And I need your opinion on something important.”

  Somehow she doubted that…

  TWENTY-TWO

  Victor groaned as the chopper neared Greg’s warehouse again. Chilling memories of his last visit to this place haunted him, and he wondered if he remembered the way to that Catholic church he’d taken shelter in—the one in which he’d seen Mr. Taniguchi dressing down the mousy accountant.

  Meanwhile, Lacey was truly absorbed in what her former employer was saying. Almost as soon as they were in the air, the floodgates had opened about his concerns over his partnership with Mr. Watanabe. He explained that he’d taken the helicopter just to ensure that no one would be listening in or watching them, and mentioned that he’d let a trusted individual in the office know where to look for him in case he disappeared.

  “That ‘little stop’?” Lacey asked.

  The man nodded. “Yeah.”

  “He’s lying,” Victor said abruptly. “But he’s not thinking about whomever he actually saw, so I can’t see what the truth is.”

  Lacey made a note of Victor’s comment.

  “Anyway,” Greg continued, “Orochi is an astounding businessman; I’ve got to give him credit for that. But in case you missed the implications of what I’ve said,” though Lacey knew very well what Greg had implied, “I’m just going to spell it out: I think he’s in with the Japanese mafia.”

  Lacey gasped as expected. “Greg, why would you think something like that?”

  Greg frowned as he steered the helicopter over the warehouse’s roof pad, but didn’t put the craft down. “A lot of things. Emails, faked checks, hints of drug deals, various comments. Even a few deaths.”

  Both Lacey and Victor perked up at that. “Deaths?” Lacey asked, eyes wide.

  Greg continued to let the helicopter hover. “Let’s just say that I’m not sure all his books are legit. He and his buddy, Taniguchi, well, there’s something you should know about stockholders: they expect to see a return on their investments. But in real life, things fluctuate. You have good quarters, you have bad quarters. These days, though, stockholders don’t want to see bad quarters. It’s self-preservation to, you know, make some tailored alterations to one’s financial records.”

  “You mean, cook the books a bit,” Lacey said.

  Greg cocked his head and shrugged. Lacey didn’t like how flippantly Greg dismissed corporate fraud, but she kept it to herself and nodded like she agreed.

  Victor leaned between the seats. “Ask him how many times he’s cheated the system, Lacey.”

  Quiet, she hissed at him.

  “Anyway,” Greg continued, “Orochi’s becoming a liability. And a threat. I need to make a quick, clean break with him before he drags me into criminal territory against my will. Territory that would put my own life at risk.”

  “Listen to this guy,” Victor scoffed. “As if he wasn’t already in deeper than a submarine.”

  Lacey frowned. Will you shut up, Victor?

  “C’mon,” Greg said, finally letting the chopper descend. “I’ve got something to look into in the warehouse. And I’m going to want your eyes on it.”

  *

  The warehouse was, thankfully, demon free. Victor noted that it was not long past 9:00, but he’d seen Legion out as early as mid-dusk in certain parts of town, and then there was that one at the jewelers he hadn’t been able to explain. On his guard, he followed Lacey and Greg through the bowels of the dimly-lit structure, absently wondering why there was no security presence until he notic
ed that Greg had had the good sense to have some surveillance cameras in place. Turning his mind back to the woman of his dreams, he immediately picked out her spike of nervousness as they passed a crate labeled “perfumes.”

  Greg paused and looked at the crate, then turned a smile on Lacey.

  Lacey kept her cool, hoping Greg couldn’t hear her heart slamming against her ribs. “There will be time for fragrances later,” she said playfully, before putting on a stoney face. “For now, business.”

  Greg grinned. “Always so focused. You really will do great with my morning show. And with this business,” he said, gesturing around. “I should have picked you up a long time ago.”

  “If you so much as touch her…” Victor growled.

  Lacey broke the tension by taking a few steps forward, into an intersection of aisles. “So, Greg, what is it you wanted me to see?

  Greg stepped up to her and stared for an uncomfortable length of time before answering. “It’s there in the back. With the parakeets.”

  Lacey blinked in worry.

  The KZTB manager’s brows bunched. “Something wrong, Lacey?”

  She nodded openly. “I have a… bad history with parakeets. It seems I’m allergic to them.” She pushed back against the memory of clinging to her toilet bowl for a half an hour, wishing she could die.

  “Ah,” Greg said knowingly. “Well, I have just the thing. Stay here.”

  Lacey complied, and not a minute later, Greg returned with a pair of hospital-style facemasks and some foam earplugs from a bulging pocket. He handed a set of protective gear to Lacey and slipped his own on. “I have to admit, the birds have been in pretty bad shape since they got here. That screeching makes me want to claw my eyes out. And I don’t know what’s up with their eyes, but all that dust, it makes me gag too. And don’t you tell anyone about that,” he added, jabbing a finger at her in mock accusation.

  “Of course not,” Lacey said. “At least not right away. I have to have some dirty little secret to leverage against you.” She winked, then laughed. Greg laughed with her, but Lacey could see the tightness around his eyes, and immediately knew that he was accustomed to being betrayed; and she suspected he’d done a little betraying himself. That in mind, she quickly slipped on her mask, and gestured for Greg to lead the way.