As Boyle made it to where we stood near the island, Moss and I moved to the other side of the kitchen.
She searched each cabinet, the pantry, even opened the stove and microwave. From where I was in the kitchen, I could see the deputy had opened the entertainment center and was looking through the DVDs.
Boyle opened the fridge and started going through its drawers and when she moved on to the freezer I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Help yourself to a Thin Mint while you’re in there. We keep them next to the severed heads.”
The detective ignored me and finally let the door close with a whomp.
“We’ve catalogued all the items taken from your sister’s office, car, and briefcase Sunday. We’re missing something.”
“Oh?”
“It’s something your sister mentioned to you.”
“When?”
“Sunday. She asked you to handle a party for her, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Boyle looked at me expectantly.
“You’re going to have to give me a better hint,” I told her.
“She told you about a file on her computer. She asked you to download it to a thumb drive and give it to her colleague.”
“Right.”
“Where is it?”
“I gave it to Kendall.”
“No, you didn’t. We asked her.”
“Well, she’s mistaken. I remember printing the file.”
“I’m not talking about the file, I’m talking about the thumb drive.”
She held up the warrant, as if that would help me understand what a thumb drive was.
Wes and the deputy he’d been shadowing approached from the hall. The officer shook his head, then held up a plastic evidence bag with a small black rectangle inside. “I found a USB stick, but it’s not yellow.”
Yellow USB stick?
Oh hell.
A memory leapt into my head.
Sunday night. Jake and Boyle waiting outside as I rushed to find the file for the party and copy it to a USB stick. Moss nudging under my hand as I tried to plug the USB stick into my sister’s computer. In a blur of yellow it had sailed into the kitchen and landed . . . somewhere.
It took all my willpower not to start scanning the kitchen floor to make sure it wasn’t sitting out in plain sight. Thankfully, Voodoo chose that moment to come careening into the room, chasing her favorite toy, a ball with a little jingle bell inside.
With the kitten as an excuse to look down, I glanced at Voodoo then let my eyes slide furtively over the floor and along the base of the cabinets.
No sign of the USB stick.
Looking back at Detective Boyle, I said, “Listen, I admit to e-mailing a file from my sister’s computer before you took it. I’m sure you saw that in her out-box. I left the original copy of the file on her desktop. It was a bunch of stuff pertaining to the party that night. Nothing nefarious.”
“And the USB drive she mentioned?”
“I couldn’t find it. That’s why I e-mailed the file.”
The second deputy stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, looked at Boyle, and shook his head. By some unspoken directive, both men turned and walked through the foyer and out the front door.
Voodoo bumped into my foot as she chased the ball and it rolled away to bounce off the bottom of the fridge.
In a flash of sudden, terrible clarity I knew where the USB stick was. I’d seen it, or rather part of it, a few nights before.
With deliberate effort, I pulled my gaze away from the base of the refrigerator.
Detective Boyle scrutinized me.
Don’t look guilty, I ordered myself. And don’t look at the fridge.
“You’re sure you haven’t seen it.”
“Yep.”
I tried to think about something else, but kept seeing the yellow USB stick in my mind’s eye—spinning under the fridge. I focused on Boyle’s face and had started counting freckles on her nose when I heard something slide across the floor. I glanced down at Voodoo and saw, with horror, that my kitten had abandoned her jingle ball and was focused on something under the fridge.
I realized too late that my thoughts had probably inspired the kitten to investigate the area.
Damn cats and their infernal curiosity.
Before I could think of a way to distract the kitten, Voodoo nudged the yellow USB stick out from under the fridge. In a heartbeat, it was batted across the marble tiles, clattering over the floor to bounce off the cabinet.
There was nothing I could do—the kitten was headed straight for us, pouncing and slap-shoving at the yellow rectangle in crazy kitten abandon.
The stick clattered between Moss’s legs and I did the only thing I could think of.
Moss, sit!
I let him feel my urgency and, for once, he didn’t try to bargain for a treat, but planted his furry rump on the floor.
Good boy!
Voodoo, whose attention span was only a little longer than a gnat’s, lost interest and scampered off to get a drink of water from the freshly filled bowl.
“So.” I looked from Boyle to Wes. “Are we done?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Great. Wes will show you out.”
Boyle hesitated, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She swept her gaze around the room then reluctantly followed Wes to the front door.
As soon as I heard the door close, I peeked into the foyer and motioned to Wes to return to the kitchen.
“You’re not going to believe this,” I said in an unnecessary whisper. Urging Moss to stand, I retrieved the USB stick from the floor. Wes had stopped at the entrance to the kitchen with his face angled away, eyes shut.
He held up both hands palms out and said, “Wait. Don’t tell me.”
I curled my fingers around the USB stick and stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Okay.”
Wes lowered his hands and looked at me.
“I don’t want to know.”
“But—”
He held up a peremptory hand. “It would be unethical for me to tell you not to hand over something like that to the police. Point of fact, it would be unethical for me to know you have it in your possession. Do you understand?”
I nodded, then said, “One thing’s bugging me. Hypothetically.”
Wes gave me an exasperated look, but didn’t tell me to shut up, so I continued.
“Why does Boyle want the yellow USB stick? What does she think is on it?”
“In my humble opinion, she’s interested in it because Emma asked you to get rid of it. It was the only thing Emma wanted out of the house before the police came to take her computer.”
“She didn’t ask me to get rid of it, she asked me to give it to Kendall.”
“Which amounts to the same thing.”
“But, if I’d given it to Kendall, the cops would have just found her and gotten it anyway.”
“True. Unless Kendall would have known what to do with it.”
“What are you talking about, Wes?”
“I’m only suggesting Emma’s intent may have been to keep it away from the police.” He glanced at his phone. “We are now very late. Come on, we’ll talk in the car.”
“Uh, wait . . .” What was I supposed to do with the USB stick? I didn’t want to take the very thing the police were looking for to a building crawling with cops. “Give me two seconds.”
With a perceptive nod, Wes headed outside.
I gave Moss a treat for his assistance, thought about dropping the USB stick in the box of doggy biscuits, and then decided to bury it in the junk drawer Boyle had taken extra time searching.
Grabbing my purse and phone, I hurried out the door.
“Now, tell me everything you know about this Kendall person.”
�
��She’s a party planner, she works for the Ritz. Here”—I grabbed my phone from my purse—“I have her number.”
Wes entered it into his phone, then looked up, waiting for more information.
I shrugged. There wasn’t much to say. Kendall knew and respected Emma and seemed happy to do her a favor. The young woman dealt with the pre-party chaos without batting an eye.
“Did she ask you about the phantom USB stick?”
“No. In fact, she hardly looked at the printout I gave her on the party.”
Wes considered that and I felt obligated to add, “Though that might have been because it came out magenta. The printer’s out of the other colors.”
“Anything else?”
I shook my head, then remembered a tidbit. “She told me Emma helped her get a job in the business.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know. If skill is an indicator, I’d say a while ago. She was good. Reminded me a lot of Em.”
“Did she say how they knew one another?”
“No, I assumed it was from work, but that wouldn’t make sense, if Emma got Kendall a job. Did you ask Emma about Kendall?” I asked as the driver glided onto A1A.
“No, but I will.” Wes opened the little cooler built into the town car’s side panel and pulled out a small bottle of Perrier.
I shook my head when he offered me one.
All the talk about Kendall and parties made me realize something with a start.
“Holy crappoly! Today’s Thursday.” Emma worked events Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. “The weekend’s almost here.”
Wes saw the panic in my eyes and patted my knee. “It’s okay. I’m having Emma’s calls forwarded to Claudio. He’s delegating.”
“Oh, thank God.” I sank back into the plush leather seat. Wes’s assistant, Claudio, was superhuman. I was pretty sure he could juggle the scariest things on the planet. Swords, chainsaws, flaming batons, weddings . . .
“Which reminds me, have you heard of the Sanctuary of Saint Giles?”
“No, why?”
“They called asking to speak with Emma.”
“What is it, a church or something?”
“I thought so, too. Maybe related to a wedding, but when Claudio asked for details, they refused to give any.”
“Did you ask Emma?”
“She said it was a charity she’d given to, but . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” Wes looked out the window for a moment then back to me. “Something about the way she brushed it off seemed strange.”
“Like she didn’t want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “It’s probably nothing. There’s something more important I wanted to tell you before your visit with Emma.”
“Okay, what’s up?”
“When I saw her earlier, she was”—he appeared to be searching for the right word—“down.”
“She’s in jail.”
“It seems to be more than that.”
“Did you tell her Claudio is handling the events for her?”
“Yes, and she was grateful but”—he sighed and rubbed his eyes—“I don’t know how to explain it. She wasn’t herself. I wanted to tell you for two reasons. One, I don’t want you to be taken aback when you talk to her.”
“What’s the other reason?”
“I want you to make sure she knows I’m on her side.”
• • •
Wes had been right about Emma—she wasn’t herself.
I asked her if there was anything she needed or something I could do to help but she just shook her head.
I tried to come up with a way to at least let her know I still had the USB stick but knew Boyle would be watching and listening to everything we said.
“Wes is working on getting you out of here.”
She nodded.
“I know you didn’t kill Tony. You wouldn’t have been there if he hadn’t been trying to contact me.”
“Grace.” She reached over to clasp my hand, and the handcuffs scraped over the tabletop as she moved. I stared down at the shining metal and felt a lump clog my throat.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“This is not your fault.”
“It’s crazy,” I said with more despair than I’d intended. “That’s what it is. Crazy and stupid. And the cops are crazy and stupid to think you did it.”
“Not really.”
My mouth dropped open in shock.
She smiled and I got a glimpse of my sister peeking through the stoic veneer.
“They’re looking at the easiest, most logical target. It’s what they do. And with good reason.”
“Occam’s razor,” I muttered.
“Exactly.”
I arched my brows.
Her smile widened; she loved surprising people. “I hoped once the police started peeling layers away from Tony’s life they would find a more viable suspect, but it seems that’s not the case.”
“You don’t seem very upset.”
“Oh, I’m upset. But it won’t do me much good. I figure you and Wes will be doing enough stewing for all of us.”
“He’s doing all he can, you know.”
“Of course. He needs to get some rest. So do you.”
“Your boyfriend called me at the crack of dawn.” I told her, knowing she’d know I was talking about Hugh. “He wanted to come over and talk about how great you are.”
“Did he?”
“We talked about Boris, too.”
Emma’s eyes widened as she got my meaning. “Well, I’m glad you talked about it. It’s been a long time coming.”
“He said he’s going to visit you later.”
“That will be nice.” Her face softened and I was struck again by the realization of how much she liked him.
Anger bloomed through me in an unexpected wave.
My sister had dated plenty of guys. Men fell all over themselves to talk to her. But Hugh was different. They’d connected.
The thought of her missing out on a second of that connection pissed me off.
“Grace?”
“Sorry, what?”
“How’s the hunt for Heart going?”
My anger fizzled out at the mention of Heart.
“Slowly.” I told her everything I’d learned, then said, “I feel like I’m letting him down, Em. All I know for sure is he’s not with Jasmine, which means he’s not where he should be. I don’t even understand why anyone would steal him in the first place.”
“Why don’t you ask Sonja? The ASPCA keeps information on stuff like that, don’t they?”
They did. “Emma, you’re a genius.”
“I have my moments.” Her smile was almost as brilliant as usual.
I detected the sound of muffled voices in the outer corridor. A glance at the clock confirmed our visit was almost over.
“Gracie.” My sister squeezed my hand so I’d meet her gaze. “I think it’s time to call Mom and Dad.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
• • •
The visit was over more quickly than I’d have liked. But rules were rules. Wes needed to stay and go over some things with my sister so I headed out to find the town car and catch a ride home.
I was enveloped by the scent of roasting coffee as soon as I stepped outside.
A half a block away, the Maxwell House plant must have been making a giant batch of hazelnut. It smelled amazing. I paused, drew in a breath, and, despite the growing warmth of the day, immediately wished I had a steaming cup in my hand.
Maybe I needed to cut back.
I rejected the idea before it had fully formed and turned to walk toward the parking area.
Jasmine called while I was standing at the curb wai
ting for my ride.
“I’m sorry for the delay getting back,” she said. “I’m at the airport on my way to Texas to help Tony’s family make arrangements.”
“Of course.” I knew the Ortegas were from somewhere in Texas, so it stood to reason his funeral would be there. “Thanks for getting back to me.”
“Heart’s registered name is Heart of Midnight. Though I believe his paperwork lists the name in French. Which would be Coeur de Minuit.”
I asked her to text it to me so I’d be sure to get the spelling right.
“Have you found anything?” she asked.
“No, but I have a friend who’s going to make some calls.”
“I’ll be on a flight soon and have some obligations later but if you find anything . . . I could really use some good news.”
“If I get any, I promise to call.”
A few seconds after hanging up, the text with Heart’s French name appeared. I forwarded it to Hugh and hoped he’d make headway with the info.
Just as the town car pulled to a stop at the curb, I heard, “Grace, you got a sec?”
It was Jake.
Wes’s driver had gotten out of the car to open the door for me, but I motioned for him to wait and turned to the detective.
I started to ask “What’s up?” but remembered what Wes had said about how many people would have been privy to Emma’s imminent arrest. The question I ended up asking was: “Did you know? When I talked to you yesterday morning, did you know about Emma?”
“You mean did I know your sister was going to be arrested? Yes.”
I don’t know why, but I was surprised he admitted it. Jake, being a detective, noticed.
“You expect me to lie?”
“I expected you to feel bad about it.”
“How I feel ain’t gonna change things, Grace. But if it makes a difference, I’m sorry.”
“There was a news team there. They recorded the whole thing.”
“I heard.” He paused, jowls drooping in a frown. “That’s not how I would have done it, but it wasn’t my call.”
I just looked at him.
“Listen, you asked me to look into the missing horse. I did.”
“And?”
“Boyle did have one of our guys check to see if any horses like the one you’re trying to find came through the Port of Miami. I double-checked with him, and he’s gonna get me a copy of the paperwork. I’ll let you know as soon as I get it.”
Horse of a Different Killer (A Call of the Wilde Mystery Book 3) Page 19