by Gin Jones
"Sorry to disappoint you." Helen dragged over one of the leather guest chairs from where they lined the wall near the entrance.
"You would never disappoint me." Spencer waited quietly, knowing better than to offer any assistance while she sat and hung her cane over the arm. Then he asked, "So what can I do for you today?"
"You can stop being so pigheaded and let Tate help you during the investigation into Danica's death."
"Ah." He glanced at the flashing lights on his phone system. Apparently none of them required immediate attention, so he continued, "You've been talking to your niece. She said the same thing to me yesterday. In identical words, I believe."
"I assume Adam gave you the same advice too," Helen said. "So why aren't you listening to them?"
"I listen," Spencer said. "I just don't agree with the advice. Really, there's nothing for you to worry about."
"You may not want anyone else to worry, but you can't convince me that you're not worried yourself. I know you are." Helen pointed at his headset. "You're wearing red and orange together, and not as an ironic commentary on fashion rules. That tells me you're distracted by something. It's not a big leap of logic to conclude it's the police investigation."
Spencer reached up to remove the headset and shook his head at it ruefully. "Anyone could forget something like that. It's not like I can even see myself once it goes on." He unplugged the headset and, without looking, reached into a drawer to pull out a green one that perfectly matched some small dots in the paisley tie. Apparently Spencer wasn't so upset that he couldn't process options and make choices quickly.
That didn't mean she was going to let him off the hook. "You're changing the subject. Some people might forget to match the headset, but you wouldn't. Not unless you were seriously distracted."
He plugged in the new, matching headset and stared at the phone, as if praying for someone to call and save him from the conversation. When no one obliged, he sighed and looked at Helen. "I'm not worried for myself. It's more for my parents. They're not in the best of health. The stress of hearing that I'm a suspect in Danica's death wouldn't be good for them. Plus, they don't like having their routines disrupted, and I might have to miss some visits with them if the police take me in for questioning."
"Tate can help with that. Once he's officially representing you, he can work out a convenient time for that questioning, not leave it up to chance."
"I know." Spencer wiped a hand over his face. "It's just that I'm already indebted to Mr. Bancroft. He lets me set my own hours for the most part, so I can work around whatever time I need to take care of my parents. My father can't handle the least little change, and something's been going on at the nursing home recently that involves switching around some of the staff's shifts, and he doesn't understand when a different person shows up to work with him. He's been difficult a few times, and they've had to call me to come settle him down, so I've had to leave work on short notice a lot lately. I can't ask my boss to do anything more for me."
"If you don't, you might end up in prison. Then you'll never be able to repay Adam's generosity, and you won't be able to help your father if he needs you."
"Is it really that bad? I can understand why the cops would want to talk to me, but I hadn't seen Danica in over a week before…" Spencer's square jaw tightened. He regained control of himself after a moment. "Before she died. I suppose it doesn't look good that she dumped me, not the other way around. I wasn't happy about it, but I'm not a kid. I know that if one person wants out of a relationship as badly as Danica did, it's over and there's nothing left to salvage. It's not something that I could change on my own. I wasn't angry, just sad. I'm still sad, but not for myself any more. It's for the loss of such a young, passionate, and talented person."
Spencer was the first person she'd talked to who had a good word for Danica, at least with respect to anything other than her martial arts skills. Perhaps Helen had been too hasty in assuming the woman was as bad as the first impression at the House of Sambo had suggested.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Helen said. "It sounds like you cared for her deeply."
"I did." His head dropped forward slightly, and his eyes closed.
Unlike Tate, Spencer couldn't hide his feelings if his life depended on it. He had definitely been intensely affected by her death. Perhaps his emotional state was interfering with his usual common sense, and that was why he was being so stubborn about not accepting Tate's help. He probably hadn't had anyone to talk with about his loss. He had to have known how much his parents disliked Danica, and he might not have trusted anyone else he could share his feelings with. Spencer wasn't a lawyer, but his paralegal training had to have made him aware of the risk that anything he said about his relationship with Danica might get passed along to the police. Maybe if he could finally talk about his grief in a safe environment, it might jolt him out of his state of denial. He might trust Helen enough to open up a little.
"What was Danica like?" Helen asked. "I didn't have a chance to get to know much about her firsthand, so I've had to rely on what others have told me. About all I know is that she was a fierce competitor."
At that, Spencer opened his eyes and smiled sadly. "She was definitely competitive. It was the one thing she was always trying to change about me to make me more like her. I'm just not particularly into competition, at least not in the ways that she was. I joined the House of Sambo because Mr. Zubov is an excellent trainer, but I wasn't interested in the martial arts beyond the fitness aspects of them."
"I heard that Danica was Kolya's star pupil."
"She was amazing in Sambo matches. That's where I got my first glimpse of her, in fact. Mr. Zubov had an open house when the place opened, and I went to see what it was all about. Danica was there, doing a demonstration. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was so alive." Spencer's smile faded. "And now she's not. I keep thinking her competitiveness is probably what got her killed."
"You think another martial artist killed her?"
Spencer shook his head. "I had a different kind of competition in mind. She'd set her sights on acquiring the Wharton B&B a few months ago. She was really annoyed when they put in a pool over there. She had some guests cancel their reservations, saying their kids wanted to swim."
"She could have just installed her own pool," Helen said. "The yard is more than big enough."
"Anyone else would have done that, but not Danica," Spencer said. "She claimed it wasn't safe and there was too much risk of a lawsuit if someone drowned, but that wasn't the real reason. She was deathly afraid of water. Had been ever since she was a toddler, apparently. As soon as she was old enough to refuse to get into a bathtub, she started taking showers, and never went back. Wouldn't even get into a hot tub when we went on a vacation together."
"Then why acquire the Wharton B&B and its pool?"
"So she could remove it and fill in the hole."
Seriously? Helen remembered just in time that Spencer had loved Danica, so she managed not to express her disbelief out loud. "That seems a little extreme."
He nodded sadly. "Yeah, that was Danica. Always taking the extreme path. Of course, her motivation to acquire the other B&B wasn't entirely about the pool. That was just an excuse."
"For what?"
"For getting back at the one man who'd ever dumped her."
"Neil Campbell." She didn't bother to make it a question. It made total sense. She'd been told that Danica had a thing for muscular, unavailable men, and she'd seen for herself plenty of evidence that supported that pattern. All Helen had to do was look at Spencer. His build was somewhat camouflaged by his perfectly tailored suits, but nothing could hide his broad shoulders, and the easy way he moved suggested he was in excellent physical shape. His parents' disapproval of Danica could have made her see him as "unavailable," and therefore worth pursuing.
Given that muscular and unavailable were what Danica was looking for in a romantic partner, Neil Campbell would have fit the description to a tee. He was more blatantly
muscular than Spencer, and his commitment to his family business had probably made him somewhat hard to get.
"You've met Campbell? How did that happen? He hardly ever leaves the B&B." Spencer's piercing blue eyes narrowed as the explanation dawned on him. "Wait. Have you been doing just what Mr. Tate probably told you not to do—investigating Danica's murder?"
"I had other reasons to visit the Wharton B&B."
"I'm not buying it. You were looking into possible suspects." He leaned back in his chair, and this time there was genuine amusement on his face. "So what I want to know is why you think I should listen to Mr. Tate when you certainly don't."
"I listen to him," Helen said. "But he's not my lawyer any longer, so sometimes we agree to disagree. The big difference, though, is that I'm not a suspect in a murder investigation. You really need to talk to Tate, and then you can decide whether to accept his help."
"Or else we can agree to disagree?" Spencer asked. "Mr. Tate might not be so accepting of that with anyone but you."
"I tell you what," Helen said. "Agree to spend an hour with Tate as your lawyer, and then if you still want to go it alone, I'll talk to him about accepting your decision."
"And Mr. Bancroft? He keeps pestering me too."
"Adam too." She'd talk to anyone Spencer wanted her to, although she was pretty sure that neither Adam nor Tate would listen to her, and they'd continue doing whatever they could to protect Spencer.
Fortunately, Spencer didn't know that.
"It's a deal." Spencer extended his hand across the desk for a shake.
Helen took his hand without any hesitation. Tate could handle things from here on out. At least when it came to legal representation. Finding useful evidence was a different matter. At least for now, while Almeida was in charge of the investigation, Helen had to trust that the police would be able to take care of that.
* * *
Spencer turned to his right to answer the phone, and Helen rose to drag her chair back where it belonged, so she happened to be facing the entrance when Detective Hank Peterson barged inside.
A subdued-looking Detective Almeida came in behind her boss. She winced at the sight of Helen, which didn't bode well for anyone. Or for a successful conclusion of the murder investigation.
Peterson came to a sudden stop and glared at Helen. "What are you doing here? You promised my colleague here that you wouldn't meddle with her investigation."
"I'm a friend of Adam Bancroft. I visit here frequently for reasons completely unrelated to anything the police might be working on." Helen glanced at where Almeida remained a few inches behind her boss, letting him do all the talking. "And it appears that this isn't her investigation any longer."
"She had her shot at it," Peterson said smugly. "Now it's time for someone with real experience to take over. I'm putting you on notice that if I see you anywhere near anyone involved in this investigation, I'm filing charges against you."
"I'm sure you'll do whatever you think is best," Helen said. And so will I.
Peterson looked over his shoulder at Almeida, clearly signaling an order: Get that Binney woman out of my sight.
Almeida urged Helen into the hallway that led to a small conference room and Adam's private office. Helen let herself be guided but stopped before they'd gone more than six feet. They were out of Peterson's line of sight there but could still hear what was going on in the other room. Almeida was obviously discouraged by her demotion from lead detective on the case, but she didn't seem to blame Helen for it and didn't insist that they continue moving.
Helen mouthed, "I'm sorry."
Almeida shrugged and took up a relaxed position between Helen and the outer office, leaning against the wall. Almeida might not be leading the investigation, but she probably wanted to hear what Spencer said as much as Helen did.
In the other room, Peterson cleared his throat.
Spencer had continued chatting on the phone throughout the police's arrival and Helen's eviction, but he was finally winding down the conversation. "Excuse me, Ms. Rosen. I'm afraid I've got a situation here. I have to go, but I'll make sure Mr. Bancroft calls you as soon as he returns to the office."
Helen tiptoed around Almeida and peered into the outer office to see that Detective Peterson, who had his back to the hallway, was taking advantage of the fact that Spencer was seated and therefore easier to look down on. Peterson puffed himself up, clearly trying to look intimidating.
Spencer ruined Peterson's power play by not noticing it. He calmly keyed something into the sleek phone console, presumably switching it to voicemail, then took off the headset and acknowledged the senior detective. "If you're looking for Mr. Bancroft, he isn't here right now. I can take a message if you'd like."
"I'm not here for Bancroft," the detective said. "I'm here for you."
Helen turned back to look at Almeida. Judging by the woman's carefully neutral face, she wasn't happy about this turn of events, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Almeida might not be able to stop Peterson, but Helen knew who could. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found Tate's number. She texted: At Adam's office. Peterson here with handcuffs.
Helen peeked around the corner again.
"I seem to be in great demand today," Spencer said as he leaned back with his hands resting lightly on the arms of the chair. "How may I help you, Detective?"
"You can come down to the station with me."
"Can it wait half an hour?" Spencer reached out to tap the current day's page in the red leather appointment book open on his desk. "Mr. Bancroft should be back by then. He's got a client coming in."
"We're investigating a murder," Peterson snapped. "We don't have any time to waste."
"I'm happy to go down to the station with you if it will help to find Danica's killer, but I can't leave the office empty in the middle of the day."
Helen knew that, in fact, he could close the office if he wanted to, since he'd done it before to visit his parents at the nursing home. She chose to believe that meant he was stalling so he could make good on his promise to consult Tate before talking to the police.
"Excuse me, Detective Peterson." Helen stepped out of the hallway and into full sight of the senior detective. "You might want to know that Spencer has an attorney. He's on his way."
"Is that true?" Peterson snapped at Spencer.
"Yes. I only made the arrangement a few minutes ago, and I wasn't sure if he'd accepted the terms." Spencer looked at Helen, who nodded back at him. "Apparently, he has. You'll have to talk to Mr. Tate if you wish to interview me."
"Tate's retired," Peterson said, addressing Helen.
"So am I," Helen said, "but that doesn't stop me from helping people when I can. Besides, I think Tate's been restless lately. He needs a hobby, something to break up the monotony of his retirement. Representing the occasional client will do nicely. He can't spend all of his time making wooden bowls."
"Tate's not going to have any time for woodworking as long as you're around," Peterson said. "It's going to be a full-time job keeping you out of jail."
She didn't bother to explain that Tate had given up trying to keep her out of jail. At the moment, he'd probably be just as glad if she weren't around to pester him about whatever he wasn't telling her.
"Have Tate call me as soon as he's talked to his client," Peterson snapped and turned to leave. He stopped with his hand on the door as if he'd just realized he'd forgotten something—or someone—and couldn't remember what.
Almeida stepped into sight and called out, "I'll meet you back at the station, sir. As long as we're not taking Mr. Nagle down to the station right now, I have a few loose ends to tie up."
Peterson grunted as he pushed the door open and disappeared through the opening.
Almeida waited for the door to shut completely before turning to Helen. "We need to talk. Privately."
Helen asked Spencer, "Do you mind if we use the conference room for a few minutes?
I know where it is."
Spencer waved them down the hallway as he put on his headset again and picked up a phone call as calmly as if he hadn't just been implicitly threatened with murder charges.
Once inside the conference room, with the door firmly shut, Almeida turned to prop her rear end against the top of the sturdy table that could seat six people for a deposition or real estate closing. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, "I can't help you if you push Peterson too far."
Helen dropped into the chair at the head of the table next to where the other woman leaned. At least Almeida wasn't sugarcoating her words like Peterson would have done before he'd gotten to know her better or like Tate had been doing recently. It freed Helen to say what was on her own mind without stopping to choose her words carefully.
"My very existence is enough to push him over the edge," Helen said. "I haven't done a single thing that Peterson could have complained about while you were investigating. At least not until just now, and he'd already taken over the lead on this investigation. How did that happen anyway?"
"Nothing you did," Almeida admitted, relaxed enough to turn and settle into a chair with her back to the door. Unlike her boss, she wasn't the sort to loom over anyone if it wasn't absolutely necessary. "He got a call from State Representative Jane Silvia. It seems she was a friend of Danica's, and she's anxious to get the murder solved yesterday."
"It's only been two days," Helen said. "She couldn't possibly expect that fast of an arrest. If you don't count the rare situations when you find the killer standing over the body with the murder weapon and begging to confess, the investigations always take more time than that."
"Not according to Silvia." Almeida laughed ruefully. "After all, the most brilliant crimes imaginable only take an hour to be solved on television. I don't even know for sure what Silvia said to Peterson. Or what he said to her. I'm just afraid he might have told her the same thing he told me when he took over the case, that he'd have someone under arrest within twenty-four hours."
Still, it was far too soon for anyone to be calling for a change in the way the investigation was handled. Helen knew, better than most, how political favors were traded. Successful politicians never asked for a favor too soon, not when there was still time for the situation to be resolved without having to spend any political capital. The only exceptions were when the politician was desperate to avoid a scandal that would get her kicked out of her office, which didn't seem to be the case here, or was so closely involved in the situation, like with the death of a family member or close friend, that she wasn't thinking rationally. Could Silvia have really been that connected to Danica?