by Zara Chase
She chuckled. “If your sexual innuendoes are supposed to distract me, then you might as well know they’re working.”
“Not lost my touch then?”
“Actually, the fond family reunion made me feel better,” Naomi said, her laughter fading. “That confrontation was long overdue.”
“I’m gonna ask Connor to get a locksmith in,” Jared said.
“Why?” Kent asked. “Redford doesn’t have a key and the porter’s desk is manned 24-7. No one will get in if they don’t belong.”
“Someone has Frank’s keys,” Jared reminded him. “They were missing when he was taken into hospital.”
“I don’t have a high opinion of my family,” Naomi said, blinking up at Jared as he unlocked the door to Saul’s flat. “But surely you don’t think they attacked Saul?”
“I’m just being cautious,” Jared replied.
He slid a protective arm around Naomi’s waist as they walked into the penthouse’s foyer. He could sense her hypertensive breathing as she looked around the open space and was glad she hadn’t seen it before, or been there when Saul was still alive. At least she wouldn’t be haunted by those sorts of memories. Jared, who had visited the penthouse frequently, could sense Saul everywhere he looked and half expected him to appear from the bathroom, rubbing his hair dry with a towel, a puerile smile lighting up his features as he asked Jared what was new.
“Okay?” he asked, chasing the image away. Naomi was the only one allowed to get emotional. He and Kent were supposed to be tough enough to have her back.
“Saul had good taste.”
“He must have got that from you,” Kent said.
There was an enlarged black-and-white photograph of Saul stretching for a ball on the lounge wall. Naomi studied it for a long time, tears streaming down her face. Jared and Kent stood back, giving her some space.
“Show me the rest of it,” she eventually said.
They did so. It was as Jared had left it, except a little untidier thanks to the paramedics and police presence.
“Seen enough?” Jared asked after a while, swooping up Saul’s laptop and mobile phone. “We’ll take these with us and look at them at home.”
Banging noises came from the front door, where Connor was supervising the locksmith. He replaced the cylinders on both locks and handed Jared three sets of new keys. Jared thanked him and sent him on his way.
“Let’s get ourselves home,” Kent said, consulting his watch. “We’ve earned ourselves a drink and we can assess what we’ve learned so far when we get there.”
Jared paused at the porter’s desk to give him a set of new keys, strict instructions not to allow anyone to have access without Naomi’s expression permission, and a twenty-pound note to ensure his instructions were adhered to. He specifically warned against letting Redford or his sons in under any pretense.
Chapter Nine
“Any idea what Saul’s password was?” Kent asked Naomi, firing up Saul’s laptop as they settled in the conservatory with pre-dinner drinks.
“No, sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I can run a password cracking program.”
“You can?” Naomi looked surprised. “Is that legal?”
Jared shrugged. “You can buy them online for next to nothing. But this one is top of the range courtesy of a colleague of ours at Discretions.”
“Oh well, I guess that makes it all right then.”
“It’s not actually legal,” Kent admitted. “But then again, you’re Saul’s heir and we’re doing this for a valid reason. Using it to hack into people’s accounts just for the hell of it, or with criminal intent, would be another matter.”
“I wasn’t criticizing. I’m as anxious as you are to know who Saul had been in touch with.”
“We’ll soon have some answers.”
Kent set the program to work.
“While that’s running, let’s assess what we’ve learned today,” Jared said, leaning back in a wide chair with legs splayed, propping a bottle of beer on his thigh and idly twisting it around. “We know Saul was full of anabolic steroids, but all three of us also know he wouldn’t have knowingly taken them.” Kent and Naomi nodded their agreement. “We know Saul and Frank were assaulted on their way home. Their attackers didn’t care about hurting Frank but Saul wasn’t injured because there were no abrasions on his body when he was found.”
“So Saul was their target,” Kent surmised.
“Right. And it’s reasonable to assume that his abductors took him back to Saul’s apartment and talked to him about whatever they had on their minds.”
“Must have been something important to go to so much trouble,” Naomi pointed out.
“Right. Perry Dalton is one possibility,” Jared said. “We know he’s in England but I’m not convinced he would go that far, just because Saul was his rival on court and eclipsing him off it. We need to find out if Sam Rhodes, the former love of Saul’s life, is in the UK, or if he’s been in touch with Saul recently. His email ought to throw some light on that.”
“I don’t see it,” Naomi said. “I know I was the one who brought Sam’s name up, but still…”
“What are the most common motives for murder?” Kent asked her.
“Jealousy, revenge and…er—”
“Money,” Jared and Kent said together.
“Sam doesn’t need money, and I don’t suppose Perry Dalton does either,” Naomi said.
“Okay, but jealousy and revenge would still work for either of them.” Jared fixed her with an appraising look. “How’re your father’s finances?”
“He hasn’t worked for a while and sponged off Saul, until Saul wised up. Well, I think he wised up and wasn’t just telling me what I wanted to hear.” Naomi sighed. “He bought Dad a house, if you can believe it after the way he treated him as an adolescent, and advanced him a load of cash so he and my step-brothers could buy into a sports bar.” Naomi shook her head. “I tried to tell Saul they’d drink all the profits but Saul was one of life’s optimists. He believed there was good in everyone, if they were given the right opportunities.”
“How’s that bar doing now?” Kent asked.
“I have no idea, but I’d be surprised if it was thriving, which means they’d need another handout. They wouldn’t believe Saul would hold out against them indefinitely.” She shrugged. “He hadn’t given them any reason to think that way. So, although I find it far easier to imagine those three resorting to violence to get what they wanted, with Saul dead their supply of on-tap cash died with him. I mean, Saul was doing okay, but a lot of his income depended upon results and sponsorship, and they had no way of knowing how much he had put away that might come their way in the event of his death.”
“But it was obvious they expected to benefit from Saul’s demise,” Kent said gently. “And they were dead keen to get into his apartment. That could have been just to save on hotel costs, but you can bet your bottom dollar that they would have stripped the place of valuables before we even get around to arranging Saul’s funeral.”
“You won’t get many takers for that bet,” Jared said, curling his upper lip derisively.
Naomi nodded, her expression a combination of anger and desolation. “They haven’t stopped milking Saul, even in death,” she said with a sad little shake of her head.
“Right. Your old man’s also been offering himself up to do paid interviews, no doubt painting a picture of a loving family making all sorts of sacrifices so Saul could follow his dream,” Jared snarled. “That sort of exploitation makes me sick to the stomach. We see it all the time in our line of work. Ambitious parents interfering in their kids’ careers, trying to tell us how to do our jobs.” He flashed a brief smile. “Most of them aren’t as bad as your lot, though.”
“Add them to the list of suspects,” Naomi said forcefully.
“I’ll do better than that. Do you know where your father banks?”
“Probably still at his local Bank of America.”
Jare
d jotted down the address, picked up his mobile and dialed a pre-programed number.
“Don’t tell me,” Naomi said when he hung up again after a brief conversation. “Another colleague from Discretions.”
“Right. If your old man is in serious financial shit, personally or with his bar, we’ll know about it within a day.”
“Why was Detective Regan so anxious to make this an accidental death?” Naomi asked after a brief, contemplative pause.
“Same reason as the NHS is creaking at the seams,” Kent replied. “The police have targets and are under a lot of political pressure to meet clear up targets. The murder of a rising tennis star on the eve of Wimbledon would see them put under even more pressure to catch the killers, to say nothing of the adverse publicity it would create for the UK.”
“And the pathologist’s findings do all point to an accidental overdose,” Jared reminded her. “We know better, of course, but I’m afraid it’s up to us to find evidence. If it exists.”
“Why do I get the impression you would prefer for it not to?” she asked sullenly.
Kent and Jared exchanged a helpless shrug. She seemed to trust them absolutely, then withdraw that trust, appearing wary. She had to trust them to a degree, Kent conceded, otherwise she’d never have indulged in such uninhibited sex with them both. That had been more than just a diversion from her grief. She wasn’t the type to enter into casual affairs, no matter how dire the extenuating circumstances. But it was almost as though she didn’t trust the same instincts that led her into those sexual interludes when it came to uncovering the reasons for Saul’s death. Kent was on the point of asking her why that was when Alice called out that dinner was ready.
The tension created by Naomi’s comment prevailed throughout dinner and none of them attempted to make much conversation. Naomi, Kent noticed, picked at her food and probably didn’t even taste what she was eating. The moment they’d finished they moved back to the conservatory and Kent checked Saul’s laptop.
“I’m in,” he said, pressing some keys.
Naomi and Jared peered over his shoulders as he trawled through Saul’s email, feeling a bit like a voyeur.
“Bingo! He heard from Sam a few weeks ago.” Kent scanned their correspondence. “Sam said he was coming over for Wimbledon. He arrived a week ago. Saul said he’d be happy to see him but warned Sam he was in another relationship.”
“Did Sam say why he wanted to see Saul?” Naomi asked.
“No,” Kent said, scanning the rest of their communications. “But my money’s on a reconciliation attempt.”
“If he’s the control freak you had him pegged for and Saul refused to get back together.” Jared looked especially grim. “If I can’t have you, no one else will.”
“Hmm.” Naomi didn’t sound convinced. “What else do you have there?”
“There was some stuff between him and Perry.” Kent scrolled through it. “Accusations and stuff, but…hello, Saul agreed to see Perry at his apartment the night before he died.”
The three of them stared at one another.
“That can’t be coincidence,” Naomi said. “We ought to tell Regan.”
“When we know more,” Jared replied. “Perry won’t be going anywhere.”
“What is it with you two?” she demanded, fists planted on her hips, scowling.
“We were about to ask you the same question,” Kent replied calmly. “We’re doing everything we can to help you, and yet you seem suspicious of our actions at every turn.”
“I think…I think you cared about Saul, but you care about the reputation of your precious agency more.” Anger poured off Naomi in tangible waves as she strode up and down, venting because, Kent supposed, she needed to let it all out and they were handy targets. “I mean, you’ve only been in business for ten years, Jared. Yeah, I looked you up,” she said when his head shot up. “I looked you up when Saul first started raving about you, just in case you were out to fleece him, too. Ten years on your own, five with Kent, you’re only thirty-five and yet you have all this.” She waved an arm around the conservatory in an expansive arc. “Of course your first loyalty will be to living sporting legends. Only the living can further your wealth.” She shrugged. “Who knows, perhaps Perry Dalton will consider a change of agents one day. Wouldn’t do to fall out with him.”
“Oh boy!” Kent shook his head, wondering how Jared would respond.
“Just so you know,” Jared said in a deceptively mild tone that Kent knew belied his own anger, “I was a wealthy guy before I went into business.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. If you’d done a better job of your research you would have found that out, too. My father inherited wealth, increased it during his lifetime through shrewd investments, and it passed to me when he died. We’re blue-blooded English aristocrats who can trace our roots back to Norman times. Get used to it.”
“I didn’t know,” she said, somewhat meekly.
“There’s no reason why you should have. I don’t shout about it. The class system is still alive and kicking in this country but there’s a lot of resentment toward the upper echelons. Fuck knows why. My family had more responsibility than most, took it seriously and worked themselves ragged to keep their heads above water, as well as looking out for those that depended upon them for their livelihood.” He shrugged. “Sounds feudal, I know, but that’s the way it’s always been.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry. I got it wrong. You don’t need to explain.”
Kent was surprised that Jared felt the need to. He almost never mentioned his background and whenever interviewers brought it up, as they inevitably did, Jared managed to change the subject.
“By the time the family silver filtered down to me,” Jared continued, “I was very well off, thank you, and could have done nothing with my life, but that’s not the way I’m programed. I was a promising football—what you’d call a soccer player—but not quite good enough to make the big time. I saw how agents were all over the best players and decided my future could lay in that direction.” He shrugged. “I’m like my old man and have a shrewd head for business.”
“Five years ago when I almost made the British Olympic swimming team,” Kent said, “Jared was interested in signing me. When that didn’t work out, we’d already become good friends because of…well, because we have interests in common that you already know about. He offered me a partnership in his company—”
“And Kent has worked his backside off to prove himself.”
“Most of the time,” Kent said, thinking of Poppy Price and her bloody Assam Jungle Cabernet tea.
Jared fixed Naomi with a look of mild rebuke. “So yes, we care about our business future. No one likes to fail. But we have top stars lining up, waiting for us to represent them. We won’t because we only take on those we can give our full attention to. The last thing we need to worry about is losing face.”
“Sorry,” she said quietly.
“I’m glad we’ve cleared the air,” Jared said in a tone that told Kent just how much trouble he was having, holding on to his temper. “Now, it’s your turn. Why are you so reluctant to trust us? You liked what we both did to your body, but you’re still not sure about us. What have we done to make you so suspicious?”
* * * *
Jared’s voice had levelled off but he continued to nail Naomi with frosty midnight eyes. Part of her accepted his derision—understood it even. Damn, her emotions were still all over the place and she didn’t know which way was up, but still…They’d tried to help her every step of the way, ascertaining the facts before piling in with accusations, which is what she’d most likely have done.
She was still trying to get over the fact that Jared came from such a well-heeled family. The English still had all sorts of fancy titles and she wondered if Jared had one that he didn’t use. English accents had all sounded a bit the same to her when she’d first arrived, a bit like American accents probably did to foreigners, but already she was starting to tell
them apart. And Jared definitely had what the British called a cut-glass accent. He spoke beautifully, never dropping his h’s or, God forbid, splitting his infinitives. She might have realized it sooner if she hadn’t been sidetracked by Saul’s death, or blown away by Jared’s looks.
She hated the way they were both watching her now with varying shades of irritation and impatience reflected in their expressions. She like it a whole lot better when those expressions smoldered with hot intentions that made her melt with desire.
And yet…and yet, she couldn’t get past that locked door upstairs.
The silence stretched on indefinitely as her two Greek gods waited for her to respond to Jared’s question. Unlike most people, they clearly didn’t have an issue with silences and the ball was now firmly back in her court. She couldn’t really blame them for that. They’d cut her more than enough slack already but, as usual, her tendency to add two and two and come up with fifty-seven was in danger of biting her on the ass.
Again.
She suppressed a giggle. If there was any ass-biting to be done, she’d prefer it if one, or both, of these guys did the honors.
“That locked room upstairs,” she blurted out. “You’re hiding something.”
She sensed the tension drain out of them both, and they actually spluttered with laughter.
“Is that what you’ve got your panties in such a twist about?” Jared asked.
“Why lock a bedroom and not your offices?”
“Shall we show her?” Kent asked.
“Do you think she deserves to see?”
“We ought to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s grieving, after all.”
“Yeah, but it’s a trust thing. She doesn’t trust us.”
“And is she ready for what’s behind that door?”
“She’s not big on obedience.”
“We could probably train her.”
“I’m not a dog!”
“No one’s speaking to you,” Jared said sharply, not looking at her.
“We’d have to punish her, of course.”