Intrusion

by Kay, Arlene

  I wanted to slap that sneer right off his face, but I didn’t. That’s where training took over. I silently repeated Kai’s mantra: lose control, lose the issue. Losing was not an option, not when Tommy’s killer might be facing me.

  “Thomas Yancey was a man of many parts,” I said, “but one thing I know. He would never mix fantasy with business. Trust me on this, Arun. If one of you killed my friend, I won’t rest until you’re caught and punished. Count on it.”

  “Me, too,” Candy chimed in, pumping her fist.

  A wall of silence confronted me. The space seemed airless, more tomb than conference room. Even Officer Francie Cohen gulped a big lungful of air. Lucian was the exception. He didn’t try to hide his smile or the conspicuous wink he gave me.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Candy gathered her purse and joined us. We made a fearsome quartet as we filed out, three grim adults and one herding dog. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalk, casting their ghostly shadows on the pavements. It was ten o’clock, the time of night Tommy last walked this slice of earth. I felt his spirit, linked forever with Kai’s, cheering me on. Let others scoff. I felt it.

  Lucian’s frown expressed another opinion. “I’m concerned about you, Elisa. You may have placed your life in danger. Taunting a murderer is unwise.”

  “You forget,” I said, matching his frown, “nothing scares me, not anymore.”

  Lucian squeezed my shoulder. “Except, perhaps, the thought of loving again, having a normal life. Alors, I must be your protector then, your guardian angel.” He smiled without soft-pedaling his meaning.

  “Lucky girl,” Candy said. “Guess I’ll have to rely on this.” She reached into her purse and retrieved a canister of pepper spray. “Just let him get near me!”

  Brave talk. Somehow it sounded perilously close to hubris. The thought of petite Candace Ott tangling with a murderer made me shudder. Tommy had had a black belt in karate, for all the good it did him. The thought of losing another friend was unendurable.

  “Come,” Lucian said. “We will take Ms. Ott to her car.” He escorted us, arm in arm, toward the street.

  Twenty-Two

  Lucian came back to check my home for intruders. That was the official reason. I confess that the thought of having his arms around me was both thrilling and disquieting. My transformation from wan widow to blushing ingénue had rocked my tranquil life, resurrecting emotions I’d buried with my husband. Kai had made me feel beloved. His tenderness aroused my passion, and his playfulness awakened a wry humor I’d never dared show any other man. When he died, the droll, sensual Lizzie Mae left with him. Until now.

  I lit the bronze torchère and switched on the Bose, flooding the room with the soft, sexy sounds of Diana Krall.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Lucian asked, gently stroking my hair. “You may need protection.”

  “Are you up for that?”

  “Perhaps I should demonstrate.” His lips swept down my neck like a feather, making me shiver with delight. “Do you not feel safer now?”

  “Maybe. Show me more.”

  Fortunately, the dim lights hid my blushes. Lucian spun me around, gently kissing my forehead, nose and lips. I stood on tiptoe, welcoming his touch, pressing his head toward me.

  “You are so special. Stop fighting me. This was meant to be.” The intensity of his blazing azure eyes riveted me.

  “I … it’s too soon for me, Lucian. I can’t.”

  He flashed that grin again. “Tonight I saw a lioness, unafraid of death. Can you not face a man who loves you?” He gathered me in his arms and carried me to the sofa. “Come, ma petite. Open your heart.”

  I was drowning, swept away by euphoria. Intellect and reason ruled the life of Elisabeth Buckley, MBA, JD. Tonight this sober, sensible woman had been banished by a wild, passionate creature without boundaries. Had my ears deceived me? Had Lucian Sand told me that he loved me? I cleared my mind, focusing only on the pleasure his body brought me.

  The sofa enveloped me in a velvet cocoon as Lucian caressed my every part. I bit my lip to avoid crying out. It was maddening, pulse-pounding torture, and I wanted more. He winced as I raked his back with my nails. How incongruous to see those pale pink nails raise welts on his skin. That shade was way too neutral, a relic of the starchy Elisabeth of yesteryear. They should be blood red talons with a touch of black. Chanel’s Vamp nail varnish would be perfect.

  “Your skin is silk, pure silk.” Lucian slowly stroked my collarbone until I moaned. “Are you ready? Tell me and I will stop.”

  I gritted my teeth, unwilling to yield to him. My body was wedged against the sofa’s arm, and it wasn’t comfortable. There was only one answer, one I’d tried to avoid.

  “Follow me.” I took his hand, leading him and Della up the stairs. The bed was waiting, clothed in layers of down and fine Italian sheeting. Queen sized. Kai hadn’t wanted anything larger. “I need to touch you in the night, Lizzie Mae,” he’d said. “I need to know you’re there.”

  I turned down the comforter and switched off the lamp. Lucian slid in beside me and held me tight.

  ~

  I spent the next morning working feverishly and mooning about Lucian. Did he really love me? Did I care? Despite my growing attachment to him, I couldn’t banish one nagging thought: Lucian met every test for the outside man in the murder scheme. His motive, if he did it, was revenge, the destruction of CYBER-MED, pure and simple. I was collateral damage, an unavoidable wrinkle in an otherwise flawless plan.

  I moped through a dreary lunch of fat-free yogurt and broth, hoping that I was wrong. When Candy’s call came through, I almost spilled my guts. Almost.

  “I’m a genius,” she trilled. “Tell me that, or I’ll clam up.”

  “OK, you’re a genius. Now earn your keep. What’s up?”

  She immediately sensed my mood. “Oops. Someone’s awfully grumpy. What’s the matter, Betts? Didn’t the Love Doc put out last night?”

  “Don’t be absurd. Now what’s going on?”

  “Terrell Tate.”

  “Who?”

  Candy’s sigh was bigger than Brooklyn. “Mary Alice Tate’s nearest and not so dearest. My assignment, remember?”

  “Sorry. Temporary amnesia. Tell me everything.”

  It’s difficult to pin Candy down when she’s on a roll. She spends plenty of time on the setup, backstory and secondary characters. By the time she reaches the main event, you’re either exhausted or asleep.

  “It wasn’t easy,” she said. “Only a skilled trickster could even try.” She waited, as if expecting applause. “I took the direct approach—after a few cocktails, of course.”

  I gasped. “You confronted a potential murderer? Candy!”

  “Keep your shirt on, Betts. I’m smarter than that. I spent thirty minutes bitching about my partner, what a millstone you were, all that money you siphoned off.”

  “You used me as the tethered goat? How could you, Candy?”

  She ignored everything. “Goat, smote. Bottom line, I got results. By martini three, Terrell confided in me. Seems she had a similar problem, someone who tried to muscle in on the family fortune.”

  “Mary Alice Tate?”

  “Right you are. Anyway, Terrell found a contact at CYBER-MED, someone who outed Mary Alice and blabbed about her DNA match. Mary Alice was a flake, of course. World class. She offed herself when the money spigot turned off, leaving Terrell rich and relatively blameless.”

  “Oh, my God, we were actually right. Did she say who her contact was?”

  “Nope, only that it cost her half a million bucks. Cheap at the price, Terrell said.”

  A sinking sensation overwhelmed me. That kind of money could easily buy a Porsche, fine clothes and a big bank balance. A degree from MIT meant that the skills were a foregone conclusion.

  “Still there, Betts? I done good, right?”

  “Yeah, sure. One more thing,” I said. “How did Terrell get connected to CYBER-MED?”

  “She
was a bit vague about that. Some chance meeting at a charity event.” Candy paused. “Oh, I remember. It was that Joslin thing you went to, the diabetes charity.”

  Now I really needed to think. Half of CYBER-MED attended that event, but a big bucks donor like Terrell Tate was unlikely to mix with the staff. That left Arun Rao, Meg Cahill and Dr. Lucian Sand as my best bets. Tommy may well have sensed something that night. He had probably been right there, front and center, observing his future murderer.

  I had no one to confide in. Candy knew everything, but like me, she was personally involved. I needed someone with a clear head and some sense of objectivity. Only one person met the test

  My next call was to Rand Lindsay. I acted nonchalant, saying that I wanted to verify some of the firm’s charitable donations. Can’t screw with the IRS, you know.

  “How can I help you, Miss Elisabeth?” His soft southern accent reassured me. At least one member of my new business team was friendly. Rand quickly promised to unearth the information and send it to my iPhone.

  “And Rand,” I said, “keep this between the two of us. No one, not even Dr. Cahill or Rao, needs to know.”

  “What if the Sandman asks?” He couldn’t suppress a giggle.

  “No one.”

  ~

  I didn’t take his call. I was way too busy on a day like this to chat with Lucian. Besides, last night’s tryst had roiled the waters, threatening the balance of power in our relationship. Who needed love? I was doing just fine.

  Something about Tommy’s death list bothered me. I retrieved it from my safe and scrutinized all four names. Excluding CYBER-MED, what common factor linked all four? It must be fairly obvious, the old hide in plain sight thing that my man Poe wrote about. Tommy with his puzzle obsession would be on that like a seal on a fish. Why, oh why didn’t my friend give me more clues?

  I jumped when my iPhone buzzed. Rand Lindsay’s message jolted me out of my stupor, putting me on high alert. He’d attached a list of ten names, CYBER-MED’s attendees at last year’s big shindig. As a bonus, he’d included names of anyone else who sat at the head table. My stomach lurched as I scanned the familiar names. He was there big as life: Lucian Sand. There were other suspects, of course. Meg, Carter and Arun had all trooped in to honor the charity. Seeing Tommy’s name gave me a temporary twinge. I felt that same way every time I heard Kai’s name. Emptiness. Unrelenting sorrow.

  One small surprise. Tony “Tornado” Torres had attended last year. Funny. He’d said only the single guys got tapped for duty. That thrust him right back into the murder mix with everyone else. I texted Rand with a request to do a full bio and background check on Tony Torres including bank records. Top secret.

  The honorary guests were also an interesting crew. “Oh, my Lord.” I muttered a really bad word under my breath as I scanned their names. I’d almost missed it. The additions to the head table included Terrell and Mary Alice Tate, Judge and Mrs. Jacob Arthur, Mr. and Mrs. Ian Cotter, and the Honorable Richard Chernikova.

  That was it, the missing link. Each of the victims, plus one intended target, had broken beignets together that night. The murderer was almost certainly among them. Tommy must have noticed it, pieced it together and signed his death warrant. Six months later he was gone.

  Somewhere, somehow, Terrell Tate made a contact that night. Her pseudo-sister Mary Alice took her own life eight weeks later. I got a sudden brainstorm and tapped into Google. One by one I checked the Globe’s obituaries for the three victims. Just as I thought, they had died in order: Tate, Arthur and Cotter. I shivered, taking solace in a big swallow of espresso. My theory was just supposition, but it made sense. Mary Alice Tate was a test case. The murderer tried a relatively low risk strategy that netted him or her a cool half-million. No doubt the Evil Empire ran on referrals. That was standard business practice everywhere, even at Sweet Nothings.

  Candy had one more guest on her agenda. This afternoon, she was scheduled to meet Tatiana Lake about a fashion shoot. My ears rang as I imagined the distortions Candy was spreading. Oh, well, it was in a good cause. If Tatiana Lake and Terrell Tate ever compared notes, they’d have a consistent story.

  When the phone rang, I answered it automatically.

  “You will not take my calls,” Lucian said. “Did I frighten you last night, ma belle?”

  I’m a dreadful liar. Visions of mortal sin, eternal damnation and Sister Adelma zoomed through my mind.

  “Not at all,” I said. “I’ve just been busy today.”

  “I sensed it when I said I loved you. You weren’t ready. It was too soon. No matter. I am a patient man. I can wait forever if need be. Do not shut me out.”

  “Don’t you ever work?” I asked him, changing the subject. His supreme self-confidence made me cranky.

  “Ah. You would not want a lazy husband. Not a worker like you.”

  “Husband! I never …”

  I imagined his cocky grin as I sputtered. Lucian was downright annoying. His hubris was off the chart.

  “How can I help you, ma petite? I am at your service.”

  “You met every one of those victims at the Joslin last year. That’s when all this started. Tommy caught on somehow.”

  “You suspect me, no?” He paused. “Ask me anything. I have no secrets from you.”

  I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. Tommy’s murder cried out for vengeance or at least justice.

  “You’ve got plenty of money, more than any professor should have. The murderer probably cleared at least four million dollars tax free on his hits.”

  Lucian’s voice was gruff. “You would prefer a poor man, Elisabeth? One who needs your fortune. I see. How much easier to reject such a man when he loves you.”

  I hate stammering. It’s very unbecoming in a business executive. “No, not at all. You’re wrong.”

  “Nevertheless, I will tell you. You must trust me, ma belle. You are at your computer? Look up this website: Sandblasters, An Innovation Factory.”

  “What is it?” My fingers flew over the keyboard. “Some kind of brain trust?”

  This time, his mirth was genuine. “You might say that. I hold twelve patents on various computer algorithms. They have been quite successful.”

  My face felt warm again, but I forced myself to speak. “I’m sorry, Lucian. Forgive me.”

  He made a strangled sound. He was laughing. Lucian Sand was mocking me.

  “What’s so funny, Dr. Sand?”

  “You. You are so brave, my Elisa, confronting a man you thought was a murderer and all to avenge your friend. Such loyalty is priceless. We all need friends such as you.”

  We spent a moment considering his words.

  “I must go,” Lucian said. “A graduate seminar.”

  “Me, too, or Candy might fire me.”

  “Until the next time. Take care, mon ange.”

  Twenty-Three

  “OK,” I said after Candy chowed down. “Tell me everything.” She had bribed me into having a late night snack at one of Boston’s toniest restaurants.

  Candy gulped her martini and reprised her showdown with Tatiana Lake.

  “Not as satisfying, I’m afraid. I tried everything I could think of, but I couldn’t crack her. Tattie stuck with her story that Todd Brantley knew about her affair with Ian and didn’t really care. She cried on my shoulder a bit and told me they have a sham marriage. Todd keeps a mistress in every city.” Candy gave us an eye roll. “Goodness, that boy must have energy.”

  “Why stay married? They both have money.”

  I knew the answer even before I heard it.

  “She loves him,” Candy said. “Who knows why, but she does. So I guess we struck out on that one.”

  “Not necessarily. Ian Colter pissed off a string of husbands. Not everyone’s as forgiving as Todd Brantley. We have to expand our search. Wasn’t Ian’s wife at the head table?”

  “Yeah,” Candy said. “That’s kind of odd putting an exercise guru at the table with the Secretary
of State. After all, this is Boston, not Hollywood.”

  I flashed back to something Lucian had said about a wealthy older man who worried Ian. That ballroom was probably full of likely suspects.

  “Too bad Terrell Tate won’t give a statement,” I said. “Andrews would have to listen to us then. I know he thinks I’m some sort of wacky conspiracy theorist.”

  “Who says she won’t?” Candy wore her Cheshire cat look. She reached into her purse and extracted her iPhone. “I just happened to record this when we had our girl-to-girl chat. That should put the fear of God into her.”

  “Hold on,” I said. “You just broke the law. Massachusetts has a two-party consent statute, meaning that what you have is an illegal recording. Terrell Tate could sue you, my dear girl.”

  Candy shrugged. “BFD. Put the cuffs on me now. We’re not going to use it. I just want to convince Andrews.” She pressed the button, sharing a perfect rendition of Terrell Tate’s conversation.

  “It’s frustrating,” I said. “There should be some common thread here, a motive we can unearth, but other than CYBER-MED I can’t think of one.”

  “I’ll have another crack at Mrs. Jacob Arthur,” Candy said, “although I have to say that unlike you, Betts, she doesn’t seem to miss her late husband one bit.”

  “Find out more about that trial, if she knows. Meanwhile, I’ll dig around the public records and check out the guy who was on trial. Didn’t they say he was connected or something?”

  Candy took a healthy swig of her martini. “I guess I’m glad I’m not married. All this bed-hopping, and nobody cares. Ian’s wife, Tatiana’s husband, even Meg Cahill. What’s wrong with these people?”

  I flashed back to my conversation with Lucian. Most spouses, male and female, would be jealous or at least mildly put out if their marital partner screwed around. I would have died if Kai had cheated on me. Maybe infidelity was the link. Even the lugubrious Judge Jacob Arthur might have strayed occasionally.