Inhaling, Victoria straightened her back. It’s time to be strong, you’ve been here before. Her demeanor turned emotionless and cold. “Will’s dead.” She told her housekeeper matter-of-factly.
Beth gasped and touched her arm. “I’m so sorry.”
Victoria turned toward at the men, her voice flat and to the point, “When will we get the report from the Medical Examiner?”
“As soon as possible.”
“And confirmation on cause of the fire?”
“Same.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do for you?”
“Yes.”
The officer reached into his pocket and pulled out a notebook. “What’s the best way to reach you?”
She rattled off her cell phone.
“Do you have accommodations?”
“Yes. When will I be able to go back into my home?”
“There’s still a lot to do. The scene will need to be photographed, forensics will need samples…So, tomorrow. Sometime tomorrow.”
“I’d like someone stationed here overnight to assure no one goes on the grounds.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
The men glanced at each other then back at her. “We’ll be in touch.”
She nodded and looked at the crowd. “Will you please escort Beth and myself to my vehicle?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
The officer shielded them from the shouts and questions as they walked briskly down the street. In the car, Victoria checked her text.
“Where are we going, Vee?”
“The Four Seasons.”
* * * *
“Dabrowski here.”
“Hey, dickhead.”
He leaned back in his office chair and smiled. “Ah, my favorite lesbian.”
“I already got the tox back on the ravine guy.”
“Wow, that was fast. Thanks. Results?”
“Clean as a whistle.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“No booze, no drugs?”
“Nope. Nada.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” He shook his head. “Why the hell would he be driving so damn fast down that road then?”
“That’s your job to figure out.”
“When will you have the autopsy complete?”
“Considering it’s almost nine at night now, probably tomorrow.”
“Great, thanks Jenny.”
“Will let you know.”
“Thanks.”
Click.
Danny rubbed his head. Okay, so John Mortin wasn’t drunk or high. So, what would cause him to go rocketing down a treacherous road and tumble off? Fall asleep at the wheel? Heart attack? Maybe he just had a really bad day? He tapped his desk with his pencil, which was a habit of his when he was in deep thought.
“Hey, Dabrowski.”
Danny looked up at the doorway. “Hey, Smith. What the hell are you doing here so late?”
“Getting some bullshit paperwork done.”
Bobby Smith was a fellow officer and good friend of Danny’s. He had been on the force for over twenty years, had one kid, and been divorced twice. He was five foot ten, with a muscular body and almost completely bald, which he compensated for by buzzing the remaining hair as close to the scalp as possible. Danny advised him to shave it countless times, but Bobby insisted on holding onto the last few hairs he had as long as possible.
“Hear about the King house?”
Danny put down his pencil. “No, what?”
“Burned to the ground.”
“Really?”
“Yep, everyone’s still there.”
“King, as in William King?”
“Yep.”
“The CEO of King Chemicals?”
“One and the same.”
Danny looked down at his open folder containing the notes from John Mortin. “Humph. This John Mortin was some big shot at King Chemicals.”
“The ravine guy?”
“Yep.” Pause. “Cause of fire?”
“Not sure yet. They think a gas leak.”
“Bodies?”
“One. Assumed to be William King.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. Housekeeper said he was in the house at the time.”
“Wow. This is going to be high profile.”
“Sure is. His wife showed up about thirty minutes into the fire.”
Danny picked up his pencil and began tapping it on the desk.
“Who the hell writes with pencils anymore, Dabrowski?”
“Your head looks like a penis, Smith.”
Smith laughed.
“Who’s there?”
“Campos and Sanchez responded. And half the town’s crowded on the sidewalks. Media’s there too.”
“Chief know about it, yet?”
“I’m sure.”
He tapped faster. “I’m going to stay close to this one. The publicity will be a nightmare.” He looked back down at the Mortin folder.
“I assumed you would. Beer?”
“Yeah, let’s…no wait. Have they talked to the wife, yet?”
“I’m assuming so, to tell her that her husband got burned alive.”
“Where is she now?”
“Don’t know.”
He stood up. “I’ll catch up with you later. I’m going to talk to the wife.”
He grabbed his cell phone and jacket and made his way out the door.
Chapter 6
“Vee!”
Victoria and Beth walked into the front lobby of the Four Seasons. The cool air conditioning hit them like a slap in the face.
Brooke jumped up from a plush couch by the door. “Vee! Are you okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for taking care of the hotel reservations.” Composed and back in control, Victoria continued her brisk stride to the front counter.
“Do you need anything?” Brooke wrung her hands together, worried sick.
Victoria paused for a moment. “You know…I’m not sure.” She glanced down at her workout clothes that she still had on and looked back up at Brooke’s panicked face. “I’m sure anything I need, I can get here. Why don’t you go home? It’s getting late.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, thank you so much for your help already. I’ll be in touch…we’ll have a lot to deal with.”
“Okay…did you find Will?”
Without hesitation, “Will’s dead.”
Brooke gasped, covered her mouth and people in the lobby began to take notice. Victoria put her hand on Brooke’s shoulder, consoling her. “Look, I’ve got to get to the room. I’ll call soon.”
“Okay, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Henry. Oh, um, Natasha’s been calling like crazy. Would you like me to pass along the news?”
“Yes, please, tell her I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Will do.” She bowed her head, hiding her tears. “Bye, Mrs. Henry.”
Victoria and Beth hustled to the check-in desk. “Victoria Henry, checking in.”
The lady gave her a look of pity and concern. “Yes, ma’am.” Click, click, click. “We have you in the presidential suite. How many nights?”
She paused. “I’m actually not sure. Please reserve it for the week.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She motioned to the bellmen. “He’ll show you to your room.”
As they stepped on the elevator, Beth turned to Victoria. “Vee, I’ll stay at my sister’s house until…until things get figured out.”
“You can stay here with me, as long as you’d like.”
“Oh, no, Vee. I don’t want to intrude and I know you like your space. But, of course, I’ll be there for you in a moment’s notice.”
Victoria nodded. “Thank you.”
Beth reached for her cell phone to call her sister.
* * * *
Once in her room, alone, Victoria poured herself a vodka on the rocks. She leaned against the counter and looked around the spacious presidential suite.
She was numb. It was like her world caved in—for the second time—and then she was just left alone to pick up the pieces. It was an all too familiar feeling.
She thought about Will. He’s gone, he’s dead.
When her father was murdered, Victoria had been hysterical, inconsolable. A hole had been cut in her life that still remained empty today. It was a loss that changed the very fiber of her being. And now her husband was dead.
But, this felt different.
She sipped her drink. She was emotionless about her husband. She didn’t feel sad. She didn’t feel happy, she just didn’t feel.
No tears. Nothing.
Her head started spinning as she thought about all she would have to deal with tomorrow. The lawyers, the police, the media. What was she going to do? Where was she going to live? She wanted to crawl into a cave and hide until this was all over.
Breaking her trail of thoughts, the door chimed. She jumped, sloshing some of her vodka on the lush carpet.
Eleven o’clock. Who could be visiting her now?
She walked to the door, paused to listen, and then cautiously opened it with the chain still intact.
“Good evening, Mrs. Henry, Lieutenant Dabrowski.” He flashed a badge over his face.
Why the hell is the police here? She couldn’t handle anymore tonight. She closed the door and took a deep breath. Feeling uneasy, she unlocked the chain and opened the door.
She took a few steps back when Danny walked into the suite. His six-foot-three frame filled the doorway and she was immediately taken aback by his unassuming handsomeness. He had dark, shaggy hair that needed to be cut. Piercing blue eyes, a square jaw and thick neck with a five o’clock shadow beginning to fill in thickly. He wore a light blue shirt that fit tightly against his muscular chest and broad shoulders. Her eyes trailed down to his khakis and boots. No coat, jacket or tie. He looked worn and rough around the edges.
He smoldered with rugged sexiness.
Thrown off her game, she looked down and tried to pull herself together.
A drip of condensation dripped off her hand and she realized she was still holding her half empty vodka drink. Tension hung thick in the air.
“Mrs. Henry, I apologize about the time. I was informed you left the house less than an hour ago, so I assumed you’d still be awake.”
“No problem at all, Lieutenant Dabrowski.”
Realizing they were still standing in the entry way, she took a few steps back and motioned to the sitting area.
“Please, have a seat.” She led the way and sat on the sofa. Danny sat across from her.
“Please excuse my drink.” She looked down at her glass. “It’s obviously been a hell of a night.”
“No need to apologize.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear about Mr. King, Mrs. Henry.”
Her gaze trailed to the carpet. “Me too.”
Her hand shook as she sipped her drink. She noticed his eyes lingering on her and she suddenly felt very aware of his gaze. Was he trying to read her? Intimidate her? Why the hell did she feel so…she couldn’t explain it. But, she knew for whatever reason, he’d thrown her off her game and that irritated her.
Breaking the stare, he looked around the suite. “Is your housekeeper here?”
“No. No, she went to stay with her sister.”
“Ah, okay.” Pause. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Mrs. Henry?”
Her stomach tickled with nerves. She didn’t like the sound of that question, but she knew that not complying was not an option. “Of course not, go ahead.”
“Would you mind recounting your day for me?”
She paused, narrowed her eyes and felt her guard starting to coming up.
“Well, I woke up about five this morning, as usual. I arrived at the gallery around seven-thirty. I stopped by Starbucks on the way, as usual. I spent the day working and around seven this evening, I decided to go for a run. I stopped to get a smoothie on the way back, where I saw my house burning on the local news.”
“You said you got to work at seven-thirty in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Your gallery opens at ten, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you get there so early?”
“I always get to work early, Lieutenant.” Her tone was calm and collected, but beginning to reflect irritation.
“Why?”
She could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew he was getting under her skin. And, he seemed almost amused by it, which pissed her off even more.
“I don’t see how this is relevant, but I catch up on the morning news, go over the day’s schedule. Run through paperwork, and…I paint.”
“Paint?”
“Yes.”
“You paint before work?” He asked as if it were incomprehensible.
“Yes.” She took a deep sip of her vodka. This time, her hand was steady.
“What do you paint?” An irrelevant question.
“Paintings, Mr. Dabrowski.” Her smartass tone thick.
“Okay.” He looked down for a moment and she swore she saw his lip curl up. “Did you leave the gallery at all during the day?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Not for lunch?”
“No.”
“Who worked your gallery that day?”
“My assistant, Brooke and the office manager, Jessica. My art director also was there for a bit.”
He scribbled on a pad of paper. “After work, you mentioned a run?”
“Yes.”
Frustration flashed in his eyes. Apparently, he was getting annoyed by her one word responses to his interview questions.
“You ran about seven o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you run?”
For a moment, she considered telling him she thought someone had followed her, but decided against it. Why the hell was he making her go through her day? Anger began to bubble up.
“I ran on the downtown trail, Lieutenant. And I don’t see how any of this is relevant.” She drank the last sip of her vodka. “Now, I have a question for you. Do you believe the fire was arson, Lieutenant Dabrowski?”
Without skipping a beat, he coolly responded, “There’s nothing to indicate that at this point, Mrs. Henry. But with someone so high profile in the society, we look at all angles.” He cocked his head. “Why do you assume I think the fire was arson?”
She met his cool tone. “You wouldn’t be here asking me all these questions if you didn’t. So, if it were arson, then my husband was murdered. Do you believe my husband was murdered?”
He blinked at her boldness. Now, she’d thrown him off his game. Good.
“There’s nothing to indicate that at this point, Mrs. Henry.”
They stared at each other for a moment, like two boxers about to begin a match.
He leaned forward. “Do you believe he was murdered, Mrs. Henry?”
She raised her eyebrows. “As you said, there’s nothing to indicate that at this point.”
“Did your husband have any enemies?”
“I have no doubt he did. He was the CEO of an extremely successful company.”
“Any enemies you know of, directly?”
Other than me, no, she thought, but decided not to be so candid. “No.”
“Think hard, Mrs. Henry…anything in the past?”
Her stomach sank. She lifted her drink, but it was empty. Her body temperature started to rise. God, she hated cops. She especially hated this one.
“No, I’m not aware of anything in his past that would warrant anything sinister.”
His eyes narrowed. “People only reveal what they choose to, about their pasts.”
She rubbed her arms. “I suppose that’s right.”
Tension hung thick in the air.
“What about your past, Mrs. Henry?”
That was enough. She met his gaze with fierce green eyes, ready to fight. “That’s none of your damn business, Lieutena
nt.” She stood, and his eyes locked on her.
Eventually, he stood. “Thank you, Mrs. Henry.” He sidestepped her and walked to the entry way. Just as he was about to open the door, he turned around. “I’ll see you again, soon, Mrs. Henry.”
Fuck you, she thought. And her eyes said it.
* * * *
Danny closed the door and immediately unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. It was hot as hell in that room. For various reasons. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
“Where you at?”
“The usual.”
“See you in ten.”
Danny needed to walk to clear his head. He stepped out the hotel door and welcomed the fresh air, taking a deep breath. His thoughts were running a mile a minute. He needed to talk to Sanchez and Campos, stat.
He also needed to get the vision of Victoria’s body out of his head.
He needed a drink.
He walked down the steps and began recounting his visit…everything about it. She had opened the door wearing black yoga pants and a skin tight pink tank top that left little to the imagination. He assumed it was what she ran in earlier. The joggers on the trail must have really enjoyed that view.
Her black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Loose strands fell around her face. Her body was something out of a James Bond movie. Unreal. Slender, but curvy. Curvy hips, round rear and perky breasts. But what struck him the most was her face. A mysterious, alluring beauty. Her green eyes seemed to glow like a cat’s. Her red lips as lush as an apple.
He shook his head trying to get the image out of his head and was surprised when he realized she’d gotten him a little sweaty under his shirt.
Wow, that woman had really got him going. But, he’d learned long ago to never be deceived by looks.
She might be a supermodel, but that woman was guilty as shit. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but she was definitely hiding something. And he wouldn’t put murder past anyone, after all he’d seen.
A brisk ten minutes later, he stepped up on the bar patio. A live band was playing an old Willie Nelson song, strings of lights twinkled above the sitting area and a large oak tree sprouted right out of the middle of the wooden planks. Uniformed men sat at the bar and around the tables. Being close to the station, this was a regular cop hangout.
He walked over to his buddy, Bobby, at the bar.
Lethal Legacy Page 5